There is beauty in pain

I was too drunk to fuck by the time she told me to call her Hermione.

We had stumbled out of the bar a half hour earlier, and I thought the cab ride home might have cleared my sense. I hoped that back at my place—with her shirt lying on the ground and my hand wrapped around her wrists—it would all fall into place. Hope, I realized very quickly, is for the sober.

“I thought you picked me up ‘cause of my scarf. If you don’t want to fuck a Gryffindor then what the hell do you want? Come on, say her name again.”

She was trying to jerk me off as she said it and there was bitterness mixed in with desperation. She tugged and yanked as she touched herself with her other hand, and she whispered something incomprehensible into my ear.

“Look, let’s step back for a second,” I said. The room was spinning and stepping anywhere was out of the question, but if she tugged any harder she was going to hurt me.

“Oh, fuck! I knew those shots were a bad idea.”

She leaned down and whispered directly to my penis.

“Come on big boy. You can do it. Get hard for Hermie. Get nice and big for cute little me so I can bury you so far up my cooch I forget your name.”

“You don’t even know my name,” I mumbled as I watched with an almost smile.

“Shut up. I’m not talking to you.”

“Oh fuck,” I moaned as I leaned over the bed, and I grabbed the basket next to my nightstand. I started puking the second it was beneath me, and she was off the bed so quickly I nearly fell. I closed my eyes before I realized that was a mistake; the room spun once more as I emptied my stomach into the trash can.

“Oh Christ,” she groaned as she gathered her clothes up. When I finally sat back up she was standing next to me shaking her head. Her gold and red scarf was hanging around her neck, and it was only then I noticed the lion tattoo on her arm.

“Obliviate,” she said, waving her hand at me before walking to the door. “Not that you need any help with that.”

I was holding the basket again seconds later, and I didn’t even hear the door close. I tried to steady myself as I coughed and shook, but it was a long time before I could sit up again.

I looked down at my feet and my unbuttoned jeans around my knees. My dick was rock hard and standing straight up.

“What the fuck is a Hermione?” I mumbled.

Guy New York

(Source: quickienewyork)

Notes