Black Bimbo

I observe myself in the mirror now like every morning. I see the man before me growing older, but feel the mind inside beating his chest and feeling as youthful as ever. I often hear that men lose their urge to procreate with their partners after a certain point, but as I stand here watching my wife’s reflection. The rising and falling from her gentle slumber, I dont think thats the case for me. I love her more than ever, but my desire is ravenous and has a boyish vigor that she has not quenched in ages. I haven’t fallen out of love, but maybe she has.

I shake my head, in a futile attempt to force the painful thought from my head.

Perhaps it’s the two kids that are about to start college, the stress of work, or my weathered face from working in factories all my life. I think trying to rationalise this despair I feel In my chest, but in whichever the case may be, the cravings are becoming more than I could ever possibly bare on my own. I tug at the bottom edge of the mirror exposing the contents behind it.

Several bottles stand tall and beg for attention, but only one seems to catch my eye, so I find myself taking up the bottle of depression medication yet again. I turn the container around and around in my palm trying to alleviate some of the tension and stress I’ve been feeling within my soul when I take its contents. I know that If I take it I will feel like a zombie, I know It won’t kill the urges for long, nor alleviate my contempt for the dependence of it.

I uncap the bottle and spill out some of the contents into my hand, before tilting them back into the container, save for two of the little tablets.

I toy with the thought of dumping in the trash, but I know it won’t help. I recap the bottle, before I can try and tilt them out into the sink’s drain. I replace them in their designated spot and close the mirror. I see her body roll, and the moonlight resting upon her exposed breasts. I grip the counter my cock already throbbing. I look at the little pills.

Should I try and see If she would be willing tonight? My cock points out angrily at the sink as though telling where to lay the pills. I obey its command and deposit the pills on the side of the sink just incase I need them to combat this pang of desire.

I open the cabinet again and grab some lube from within its bowels. I pop the cap and slather some on my engorged cock, before closing it all back up. My cock penetrates the moonlight long before my hips do, so I seize the shaft and travel my hand up and down it, spreading the glimmering liquid over it.

I pull at the sheet unsheathing her hips and the furry mound between them that had brought me years of bliss. I stoop down to kiss her ankle, all while enjoying the smell of her scent. My teeth seek sustenance from her skin begging to be released upon her, so I unshackle them through my lips to devour her flesh. She groans, once I begin my journey up her shin. I kiss my way towards her knee, all while knowing that once their she would moan again.

The excitement of having her under my lips again makes me draw in a deep steadying breathe and send my hand backwards so I can stroke myself.

I peck the skin of her knee and I feel her toes curl against my leg. I protrude my tongue and press it against her kneecap, forcing that moan I do so enjoy to crawl out from behind her lips.

A feeling of satisfaction washes over me, and I feel an urge to press on with my journey. I dance my way up her thigh toward my goal, but find that I am shunted with my efforts, as her hand now resting upon my hair.

“Honey,” She whines, pushing my head back making the pain that I felt at the sink well up within my chest and spread into my limbs. “It’s too early in the morning.”

An Invisible burden in dropped onto my shoulders, and I slowly retreat from the bed as she pulls the sheets around her and curls into a ball. My guts begin to twist in sorrow, and I return to the pills that love me so much.

I swallow them.

This cycle seems to go on and on for some time, but as the months go by my desperate frustrations slowly warped until I found I became resentful of her rejection. I gave my wife an ultimatum… one that she didn’t care to meet. All these years I have shared with her and the two boys we have raised… I haven’t wanted any woman besides my wife. Time has gone by and I have enter an existence of pure repetition, I find my home empty of all the joys I cherished above all things. my wits are nearing their end and I fear no pill will save me from where my thoughts now stray.

For weeks now I’ve been feverishly looking for someone to plug, in a vain attempt to fill the hole I have carved in my soul. Being without the familiarity of my now estranged wife’s warmth next to mine each night, I find the only way to sleep is to force myself into a drug induced slumber. I’m not looking for commitment, I had that and here I lay alone. No, what I need a release, something stronger than a drug and more efficient. I may have a way…

I work in the industrial district of my city, and I’ve caught glimpses or heard rumors of women that wander the streets at night. They’ve been known to mostly traversing between the all night dinners and run down hotels that encircle the district. These businesses, and their very active clientele, almost seem to make a cage around the wealthy fools trapped inside this translucent bubble. Where within women… hookers, hunt the company men that lie within this cluster of factories for the deep pools of cotton they have hidden away in their pocketbooks. I never really had a use for a prostitute, so I mostly thought of them as a nuisance to the younger men that work around me.

I use to grow annoyed to hear their stories of their seedy quests they had ventured into the night before. The constant chiming of a place they call “B and A” began to become a jingle in my mind. “B and A” became a tormenting fantasy location, one that has the possibility to soothe my woes and silence my lust, That holds a promise of traveling between the thighs or lips of untamed and skilled “trades women” for no more than a few dollars.