CW: sex, adult themes
Yesterday morning, I watched some Russian guy fuck a pocket pussy that had a tiny torso. He’d put it on top of a big rock in the midst of some crumbling ruins, jacket on the ground to protect his knees. At one angle, behind his shoulder you couldn’t see the pussy – he was fucking straight into the dirt screaming beyond what seemed reasonable, like a man who’d lost something. Around midday, I went for a walk through the bush to a little dam. As I was going, I noticed old copper pipes like over-large, decaying pool noodles strewn around, brick that once encircled them almost completely worn away. Some were still dribbling fresh water into the stream. A man in his sixties, wearing a dri-lite polo shirt and dirty dogs said a polite hello as he passed me. I imagined him folding me over a tree branch and absolutely drilling my pussy. Me, fucking without body but as dispersion made temporarily whole. Him, pouring water from the stream over my disintegrating form, screaming like a man who’d been found.
