give me a brek

Camus meets Derrida

People always ask which I miss most: my cock or the woman that took it.

Men think the answer is simple: “Of course the cock”.

Well, buddy, Emma ain’t the type to make things simple and that’s not the complicated part either. A real disruptor. She didn’t destroy, she deconstructed everything she touched. Derrida’s touch. One would think how I pulled a baddie like that.

You see, not to brag, but—I can fuck. Okay, well, could fuck, back when my cock was still attached.

They called it “Goldfish”. I don’t know how big the Goldfishes they’ve seen were, but mine, was the size of a nail clipper.

Travel size.

Don’t start casting your judgement with your hog-hogging, size-queen freaky yearning. There’s more to the nail clipper than meets the pinky.

Can tell you that much.

Emma wasn’t like other girls (she said this a lot).

Five foot seven, I could never tell if she was latina or white, but something in the way she crashed out resonated with me.

Spoke to me on a spiritual level.

It had to be fate.

We first stumbled upon each other on an instagram post.

I commented something ‘bout Team Puerto Rico slurpin’ on our ‘Merican sausage (they beat us again). I’m not even from the USA but Canada never makes it to the World Baseball Classic (past the first round).

Emma liked it and shared it to her story.

On her linktree, her reddit account was plugged (below a link to an Amazon wish list).

Gave it a follow.

We crossed paths on a gangbang subreddit (r/gangbang).

Her handle was: u/lookmomnohands96

Not gonna lie, had to pretend I didn’t see what was there—that it didn’t sit in a nook—etched to my prefrontal cortex like names on a tree.

She followed me back on the gram, so she knew what she was in for.

I don’t hide behind a clean image.

No point in it, how can I ever get to someone meant for me if I hide behind the shell of a ghost?

Like a pistachio.

Our first time behind closed doors felt like going to Disney Land for the first time (never been). Her place: spotless. Emma had an eclectic interior design style.

She put on Ponte Nasty by Rauw Alejandro, Jowell y Randy.

The whole song went over my head, like her legs (technically on my shoulders).

Channeling Gene Simmons, putting my best tongue forward, your boy gave it all.

Lapped it all up.

After that, Emma got up and patted my head while still kneeling (her dog).

Good doggy, Emma said, strutting to the bathroom. Seeing her from the back was my equivalent of rolling down a hill made of puppies, over and over again.

Made the clipper extend its nail filer.

Do you have shampoo? Emma asked.

Yeah, let me get it (sure, I’ll fetch the toy).

Here you go—laying her eyes on the bottle she burst in laughter.

Babe what’s this? Travel size? You’ve seen my hair? You’re so cute, she said.

Maybe she’s going to shower and go for an actual round…

Waited a good minute.

Are you rea—as I said this—Emma interrupted me saying: We should get something to eat and we did. Everything she said, I did.

While there, at the restaurant we got some dishes on the house. The waiter kept coming to the table and every word out of Emma’s mouth was enough for us to get a: Compliment of the chef.

One day, she suggested we take a weekend to check out ‘Merica’s pistol grip state. Not long after this, we flew to Florida. Visited the Wynwood Walls. By then we were quite comfortable with each other. Got her a remote vibrator from some love site, if that makes sense. Buzzed the hell out of it as we walked from wall to wall.

We stopped at a goldfish mural, where the fish was painted in such a way it made me back up, thinking it was coming at me (took a tab before the walk). It made me feel some type of way, inadequate. Couldn’t quite point it, and don’t know if it was the acid or something deeper, but for it being a mural, it was quite small, the goldfish was unusually small for a mural.

Bzzzzzzz

Here, take a photo of me, said Emma handing me her phone, her face a strawberry.

Flipped it, and as I was framing the fish and Emma—Yum, plugged too? Love it—a message came in. Snapped a good six or seven and passed it back to her.

Thanks, baby, she said, and blew a kiss at me.

Emma took a minute, probably looking at the photos and thinking I’m Garry Winogrand.

Blushing, told her: Emma, why don’t we head out somewhere else. Maybe to the house? Pressing the button on the app: Bzzzz.

Her eyes glimmered wet; my balls grapefruit heavy.

Actually, I was going to say, let’s go to The Sylvester. It’s close to Midtown, she said. Concentrated on her phone, her fingers busy, probably posting the photos, she had to be editing or writing the caption where she praises my skills as a photographer and lover.

On the love site said: “Orgasmic spasms with mixed thrusts and vibes.”

Bzzzzzzzzz

Once at the restaurant. We casually met with an old friend of Emma: Raúl. Just hearing him roll that R I could see Emma’s eyes glaze up, and it wasn’t me and the app’s doing.

Mine was so clunky: Breck E. Alderson.

Hello, friend, Raúl said, Christ on a cross in all its golden splendor lay on the chest behind his open shirt. You could tell he worked out. He was a photographer, gave me a card with a link to his website.

We shook hands. In my mind that would’ve been it, but no, he joined us.

Per Emma’s request.

Between calamari, and every fried item you could get, Raúl led the conversation.

I understand where you’re coming from, Breck. Really, I do, Raúl said.

No, no offense, but… (in my mind this pause would made me more interesting)

It’s more complicated than it seems.

Emma was sitting across from me, to Raúl’s right, I was to his left.

Bzzzzz

She wrapped her hand on his forearm and said: What he’s trying to say is—her stare cut deep on mine—he doesn’t think it is fair to say his truth is nonsensical.

Shit

I don’t think his truth is. Neither is he. It’s the connection between the two, Raúl said. Where his human experience intersects with his dilemma, his truth. That being the world, his world or interpretation of it. That holds true for everyone. The absurdity of it all.

Ha, okay, Raúl. Did you learn that in your latest audiobook? Right? asked, looking at Emma. Her hand still on his arm.

I’m just joking, I said.

Oh, no, friend. I take no offense and yes, as a matter of fact I finished it last week, it was leg day when I finished it, that’s why I remember.

Of course he finished whatever philosophy bullshit book on fucking leg day

Oh thanks, yeah I did wonder what muscle group you were exercising as you finished… what book?

Oh, it was—

Sorry, I think that server is coming to take our order, said, cutting him off.

Why don’t you try the croquettes, Breck? asked Raúl.

Yes, let’s get them, said Emma looking at the server.

Anything to drink? asked the server.

Emma ordered the Blurred Lines, Raúl got the Vaxxxed & Waxxxed and I got the Banana Hammock.

After we got in our food, one would have thought to be too focused on eating to continue with the verbose.

Aw, look at those tiny croquettes, baby, said Emma.

Raúl looked at her—flashing teeth like curtains drawn.

Hey, Breck. Emma was telling me about your double major. The pursuit of academic knowledge is a commendable enterprise, he said.

Yes, well the academic landscape is disappointing. Not what it used to be, it shows with all this inclusivity and acceptance of disgruntled individuals that want to pose their bitterness through an intellectual concept that’s just as appropriated as the culture they denounce has been stolen from them.

Oh, my God. You’re adorable, Breck. Eat a croquette, baby, Emma said. Haven’t you thought about things being more… fluid? Rather than solid blocks with one sole concrete meaning. You’re coming off like a smug.

It’s okay, don’t feel bad, Breck. On the contrary, you should feel okay, her way of seeing things wouldn’t put a permanent label on you, said Raúl. Right, beautiful?

Wait. What the fuck?

Right, I mean. If I’m a slave of anything is of you, baby. I’m your doggy, I said.

Ha! See, and their lies the absurd. You see it right? asked Raúl.

You’re hilarious, Rau, said Emma, now playing with the necklace on his chest. I saw your webpage, is that you in that portrait? she asked.

Yes, wow, I forget I have that there. I was quite overweight in that photo. But, hey, we have to accept ourselves.

Raúl’s ‘Overweight’ Self Portrait

This continued longer than I could care for, but in the end Emma had the wonderful idea of inviting Raúl over. Throwing a big double dildo in the middle of our plans.

We drove three hours north, to Cocoa Beach. Well, Raúl drove, I sat in the back, they said because of the acid. I kept my finger on the button. Buzzing Emma’s vibrator.

The whole three hours.

Buzzing.

Bzzzzzzzzz

My godfather landed big with some widowed white lady. A retired programmer. Had a house with a private lake and everything.

They weren’t in state, so he let us stay however long we needed to.

Once there, something took over Emma.

She went feral. Ripping shirt and pants off… Raúl. She said, Come on doggy. Sit.

I sat.

Emma and him kissed, tongue battled right in front of me.

I sat.

Emma knelt and bit on his bulge her eyes nailed on his—So fucking hot—one hand on his cut abdomen and the other anchored behind his big thigh.

I knew she wanted this to turn me on. But if I learned something that day, is that Emma also didn’t care if it didn’t. This wasn’t a performance meant to entertain me, to pleasure me, or Raúl.

Raúl picked her up and took her to the bathroom.

She shut the door.

Emma’s voice filled the lake house.

It filled the lake.

I sat at the door.

After an hour, of incessant clapping with no hands, they came out.

Good boy, puppy, said Emma, glowing.

Raúl came out, his veiny cock still hard—graced and almost poked my eye as he passed by—smiled to me and said: Hey, friend, what’s with that shampoo?

Emma went to our bedroom and called me in.

Hey, baby. Having fun? she asked.

Sure, can I play now?

You are playing, baby, you’re being a good boy. Right, Rau? said Emma.

Definitely. You’re doing great, Breck.

Excuse me—his cock told me to move out the way.

I pulled my nail clipper.

Yes, baby, come here. Sit there.

I sat next to her. Next to the bed.

Raúl pushed himself inside Emma on missionary, her hand extended mantled on top of my head, the uncomfortable angle didn’t stop me from jacking off.

Aaaaggh. Fuck. You’re so fucking thick, said Emma. You heard that, doggy? Fuck! Aaaagh!

Raúl grunted.

The bed creaked. Headboard smashing against the wall.

I stood.

Doggy… ah… sit down, doggy, said Emma, moaning.

Cut my useless dick, baby. Make me your dog.

Aaaaah! Emma’s screams kept getting louder.

Every sound did.

Every wet smacking sound.

Come on baby, I said.

She pushed Raúl, looking at me, got on her stomach, her face flat on the mattress, her ass up—that’s when I noticed the plug, and it all made sense—Grab my hand doggy, Emma said.

Come here, doggy she said.

I got as close as I could.

So close I was getting second hand wet.

Give me that goldfish! Aaaaghh, fuck!

Rude. Seemed that every time Emma talked to me, Raúl would thrust harder; Emma’s hands on my Goldfish gripping for her life; everything felt hot below the waist; Raúl kept pounding away with the force of a comet impacting earth again and again and again and again and it wouldn’t stop.

Can’t deny it didn’t turn me on. It was weird.

In one hand, I was appalled. On the other, my mind was exploding with pleasure.

Like I was behind a wall where I could be whoever I wanted to be, and I wanted to be me.

Felt so safe.

Aaaaaaaagh. Fuck. Fuck. Yes, yes. Yes. Fuck, Raúl, said Emma. Harder.

Aaaaaaaahg!!!

I felt my nail clipper turn into an open faucet.

Spraying blood by the liter.

Emma dug her nails and grabbed my cock so hard, she ripped it off when she yanked it by reflex when cumming.

Raúl drove us to the hospital. Emma stayed with me while at the hospital.

Last time seeing her was the day we got back from Florida.

Her body left, but her essence always stayed with me. Dug in.

Every day I have to pee through a bag, I think of her.

Every time I crack a pistachio, I think of her.

She took my cock and my heart.

I wonder what book Raúl finished on leg day.

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