Dear Girls I Don’t Yet Know, I Love You.

“When life throws you lemons, grab life by the tits and fuck the shit out of it.” -livingnowalways

It’s been an all nighter. My brain feels heavy from all the weed, my body from lack of sleep. I spent all night chilling with my friends working on our latest project. I step outside. The air’s moist, warm from the sun which has been up for an hour. It’s not even 6am. The sun is so bright! Why is it in my eyes. I wish it wouldn’t shine in my eyes. My feet crunch over the gravel, it smells like morning.

A girl, maybe 20, jogs by plugged into her iPod. She wears black spandex pants and a grey tank top, ponytail tucked through the back of her baseball cap.

She looks fine, damn.

I begin walking toward the train station; I’d love to get home so I can go to bed already. My heads pounding, contacts are really sticking to my eyeballs now. I must remove them. I pass the local business men, some rushing off to the train in oversized baggy suits, some still exercising. I pass deliverymen delivering fresh papers to local homes. Those homes. So neat, little white picket fences, dogs running loose in yards. I smell fresh coffee being brewed, can almost hear bacon sizzling on stoves.

I wish no part in their life style, my own pursuits prevent that, yet this glorious morning makes me realize that’s no excuse for me to stay awake nights and sleep half of everyday. I’m accomplishing. I really am. But I must get back on track. I will be a whole new different type of person. I’ll get up early, eat properly, exercise outdoors. By the time 10AM hits I’ll be energized, dressed and showered, ready to further my career, read smart books and blog.

There’s a balance somewhere.

“And this is where shit gets twisted.” -livingnowalways

A part of me is depraved. And proudly so. I love to meet new girls, drunk,  high and forget life for a moment or two. Or live it. Yet, there’s also something to leaving your phone at home, trading in lust, for genuine love. Temporary, perhaps. Genuine nonetheless. I understand as much as the next guy, the thrill of the Hunt, the thrill of the chase for a new girl to fuck silly. But that doesn’t have to be without love. Is one to say that i can’t love many girls at once? Perhaps I can love humanity! So, here’s my letter to the cute girls of the world:

Dear _______,

You’re really sweet. We fucked the other night behind the bar where we met. You were so hot, so horny, and so helpless, you practically melted my cock with your sweetness. But instead, you took it like a champ, moaning with pleasure all the way through. We should get to know each other, perhaps go for coffee. Perhaps we share a common favorite book, or artist, and can go catch a book  signning, or jam session. Please don’t ask me if I’m using you just for sex. I don’t even know what that means. You’re cute, have great tits and ass, and you enjoy getting fucked as much as I enjoy fucking you.

So, let’s go to a lake, go boating, go on a hike, dust off those spandex. Let’s be healthy together. We’ll eat well, sleep well, and fuck well. Living, really LIVING, doesn’t always have to be under the influence. lets go out to the mountain side, leave our cellphones behind, and just be with eachother. I’ll lean against a rock overlooking a cliff and you’ll lean up against me, so that I can hear you breathe, and I can feel your ass up against my cock. We’ll feel together, in a loving way, yet so depraved, as you’d be so vulnerable to virtual stranger, and I to you. I’ll be happy to share an experience with you, and I hardly know anything about you; I don’t need to. Your breathing gets a bit shallower and quicker and my hand slides down over those spandex. Moist, like the air of the morning. I softly kiss you, and slide my cock over your thighs, and while hugging you closer I enter your wetness, and it feels good, I feel like I’ve known you forever, like I want to hold you forever. You and that cute little ass of yours.

I may do this again tomorrow, with your best friend, who also has brown eyes and perky breasts, and for the no reason thinks you’re a bitch. I’m not using you, and you’re not using me. We’re loving eachother, in the moment.

And yes, perhaps after our hike and fuck, if we have energy when we get home, I’ll turn down the lights, turn on the music, and we’ll have a mini Amsterdam mega-club right here in my own NYC living room, with all its illicit connotations. But for a moment, just a moment, together, we can clear our vision, and in the fresh mountainous air we can love, and be loved. I like looking at you. The way your beautiful breasts are outlined by your black tanktop, the way I can trace the outline of your slim body. Do you know at this moment I love you. I do not lust for you. I look at you, and am overcome by intense caring and love. I’d do anything for you, and you mean everything to me. 

And I barely know you. 

With every fiber of my body, the strain of my cock against my boxers, and the tears in my eyes as I’m overcome with emotion, love and passion, you’re truly mine,


“There are no lines between love and lust. Only passion exits.” -livingnowalways

“Imagine no possessions. I wonder if you can.” -John Lennon