Poets worship birds simply because they wish to fly away, but they are too proud to admit those birds who fly away always fly back. We call it 'migration'.
Coldplay once sang:
Just a flock of birds
That's how you think of love
Well, if you ask me what it feels like when love is gone, I won't say a flock of birds. When it's gone for good, it's just like an international student leaving the country with no fucking reluctance.
That was how I felt at the moment when I knew someone probably worthy of trying was leaving. And the worst part was that there had been no love at all.
'Is this ever fucked-up life another joke to me?' The stronger the anger I felt, the deeper I realised that I needed Rachel in my life.
It won't take years for anyone to fall in love. Falling is always as quick as a click and as unexpected as a thunderbolt. I had such strong feelings for her even before I got to know her. And I didn't care if she had peevish temper or intolerable personality. Biologists call it procreative urge. Poets call it love. And poets are right this time.
Meeting up the next day right after the first hookup, we fucked right after we entered her room. It was just so natural and passionate. But I was as quick as a virgin's first night. When I jerked over her sweaty body, a feeling of sympathy overwhelmed me in a very odd way.
We twisted our legs together while she was touching my Adam's apple and I was holding one of her snow white skinned breasts. It must be an enjoyably aesthetic picture if a painter was there observing us. We were just silently discovering the most holy and symbolic part of each sex.
'Can I just love you for one month?' I finally whispered.
She looked up at me bewildered, 'What about after?'
'Have I asked any questions about you ever?' I watched her into her eyes.
'I don't understand.'
'I don't ask what your stories are or about your responsibilities, your plans, your bright future or your dreams.' How could I not want to ask, but I just said,'I don't have a plan for this. All of this. Lucky or unlucky, I was struck by a thunderbolt. I just want to follow what I feel this time.' I sounded a bit emotional.
'I have feelings for you too.' Her voice almost melted my heart.
'Can I just love you for the rest of your time in Australia?' I asked again in a much stronger tone.
She said nothing but kissed with her passionate tongue tangled with mine. I knew that was a yes.
To love a person for a month's time was more of a vague concept for me than to make love with her. But I wanted agree on her terms with no hesitation only because I had no social burden at the time.
A poor 22-year old student. What could I lose? With unlimited time and energy to gamble, I was curious about anything. I was horny all the time. I couldn't care less about what the world thought about me. I would agree any terms she proposed no matter how dangerous it might sound.
'You know, I've been a "good" girl all my life.' She raised up and rode on me looking down in my eyes. Her face was blurred with her long hair but I could still see that smile from the heaven. 'I have no idea about my future. What am I gonna do? Where am I gonna go?' She kept talking in a very casual way. Her smooth butt rubbed slowly on my crotch. I tried my best to focus on what she was talking about - I had to admit that it was way more difficult than to listen to my Ethiopian lecturer - I was getting a huge boner again. All I wanted was to fuck her but she just kept torturing me with her sentimental talk and seductive moves. Her soft lips quivered but all I could hear was 'Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!' That was the moment I realised I wanted her more than anything else, for the first time.
'Why not staying?' My cock was already in her body and all I could do was to keep my sentence short and my tone normal. She was just there taking on her pace. I watched her cheek turning pink knowing that she was enjoying me inside of her. She was my goddess and I worshiped her with my rock hard cock.
'It's a family thing. They've got a job for me, a house, and a husband too. My future has all been planned out. This is called parenting, they say.' Her voice started to tumble, same as her breasts and her vagina. It was all so perfect and mysterious being controlled sexually sometimes. I played the dominant role most of the time, but with the right person, being submissive could give me a sense of fulfilling. She was mine and I hers.
'That's kinda fucked-up.' My hands were caressing her silky thighs. Her temperature was getting higher. Suddenly I worry if she was going to melt like a snowman. I grabbed her harder and fucked her deeper. She was mine and I hers.
We'd done talking. I sat up holding her sitting between my legs, tumbling, moaning. My lips seeking hers, our fingers crossed, I wanted to open her, discover her, ruin her and absorb her. My mind was blurred when we reached the climax together. She was so messed up and beautiful.
'What are you up to for the rest of the week?' She stood up looking for water.
'Nothing much. Just the miserable part time job in 7Eleven.' I took the loaded condom off my cock and she brought a glass of water to me while drinking her own.
'Wanna go traveling somewhere?' She didn't quite care about my job obviously.
‘Fuck 7Eleven then.’ I like her wilful smile. Money meant nothing in front of her no matter how much I needed it.
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