**NOTE:** Before you start to read, if you want to know why this story seems weird at times, go and read the authors note at the end. If you want to discover what’s going on for yourself, be my guest….
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I still remember that fatal night with you, my love. It was raining in a light drizzle, a misty fine spray that covered the city, fog curling and billowing underfoot. I was tired that day, too tired to describe, with my face an ashen sculpture of abject sorrow. My bones felt like lead, and my muscles screamed with every step that I took.
In my mind, much like the fog beneath my feet, despair and pain gushed and crashed like tidal waves of emotion, the rocking rhythm of their dance cracking blows at my own subconscious. Deep within me, beyond the pain, behind the barriers that made up my facade to society, there I lay, as an infant baby born raw from the womb.
Alone, terrified of the world, and my own uncertain future.
When the bridge that was always a welcome respite from the dreary asphalt of my commute came into sight, I was unmoved, feeling as if I saw an old friend yet didn’t recognize him. That bridge, ever the bulwark for my mind and its precarious balance, felt abjectly *foreign.*
That was when I realized it.
That no matter what I did, no matter how many tears, drops of blood or painful shrieks I screamed and shed, no one was going to help me. No person, no animal, no God in high heaven. No one would save this man.
So, in that infinite span of time, that lasted less than a few, ticking seconds, I decided. Not to bow down to the damn system that us vile humans had built to filter out the high class from the lower, to grind and burn the hopes and dreams of the average man into mortar to build the houses of billionaires.
No, no one would take this man down, not on their terms.
I decided that I would go out on my own terms.
So I walked, firm in my decision, to the bridge that greeted me as always. And suddenly, I *felt* again. Felt the small, gentle pats of rain on my suit, felt the fabric slowly soaking in the heavenly water.
In those moments, walking to the middle of the bridge, keeping to the edge, I felt alive again, after what felt like a century of darkness. Light finally graced my face, and with it, the world, this terrible, terrible, despicable world, felt filled with life and color.
When I finally reached the end of my walk, and simultaneously, the start of my new journey…
I hesitated.
I will admit that. There was a certain fear to the jump. It felt like staring down an angry, roaring tiger out for your blood. The chill down your bones, and the way you shiver, a shivering that isn’t merely of the body, but also of the soul.
It was terrifying. It was all-encompassing.
I hesitated there.
But when I remembered why I was here, why I had devoted myself to this task, I firmed my heart. But still, I believed in the humanity of the animals that called themselves “human”. I stood on the railing, and loosened my tie. I took off my jacket, and pulled out my wallet. A small, measly sum greeted my eyes. Somehow, the thought of taking this little money to my watery grave seemed poetic to me. I put the wallet back into my pocket.
As I stood there, on the railing, open for everyone to see, I waited.
I waited for someone to come and save me from my decision, and to lend a hand to me….
No one came.
I lost my hope then. It broke me a little, I think.
As I contemplated the long, shadowy fall into the murky abyss below, that was when it reached me.
A soft, lilting song, a harmony of notes that diffused into my mind, warming up my body with just their symphony of love. Alongside that, a gentle perfume of elegant and rustic tastes combined, a spice of mischief mixed within the two.
It was a welcoming smell, one of love and mirth and raw, blistering passion. I felt intoxicated by it, stepping down from the railing, and as if in a dream, walked towards that lustrous smell, jacket forgotten in the thinning rain.
It was when I reached the end of that old, metal bridge, that I saw you, my love.
You were young and spritely, a picture of bubbling life and ecstasy. For me, watching you shelter in the patio of that restaurant, I felt cold, hard shackles, the existence of which I knew nothing about, melting around my heart. You beckoned to me, with your exotic figure and tantalizing smell, to come and enjoy you, to fill the hunger that had sank into the depths of my stomach.
When I neared the place you stood, and saw that your creator was letting you be sold for your services, I immediately fished out my wallet, and praying all the while, counted the money that was now damp and soggy.
It was just enough.
So I bought you for your time, and we walked, hand in hand, to a secluded place, away from the drizzle of cold rain, and into the crisp, dry air of indoors.
You wore a pure white dress, the fabric crinkling with your every move, every touch of my hand. For a time, I did nothing but take you in, the way your body was sculpted, every curve of your sinuous figure, I took in with voracious eyes.
And you, seeing the fire within me, let out a tinkling laugh, accompanied by you taking my hand and removing the snowy scarf from around your neck.
Your plump bosom greeted me, ripe, full of juicy, flavorful meat, the globes of flesh surrounded by your rosy blush. The rain had streaked down your cleavage, and sweat from our walk had caked your collar in a way that drove me mad.
The hunter within me roared in primal lust, but my self-control kept it in check. Barely.
I wanted to relish this experience, slowly taking my time. I started with your dress moving down and removing all of the deliciously dripping dress that you wore, teasing it off of you with a loving hand.
It came off with a slight peeling sensation, and I threw it away with nary a glance. Your soft skin, a cream-coloured affair, gave way to my searching, seeking hands.
Supple white folds dripping with the lactating juices of passion beckoned to me with a delicious, lewd smell. Finally tired of holding myself back, I went to thrust my steaming and salivating tongue into your crevasse, caressing the delicious sauce of love that coated them like seasoned sauce on a fine steak.
Our mating frenzy, with your steaming breath and my deep growling moans resonated for what seemed like an infinite moment, the rain outside seeming to stop and spectate the dance of passion that we followed. In that span of time, it seemed that i knew everything, and my worries faded away to nothing. You cured me in the entire sense of the word, addicting me to your sweet, sweet body and love.
As I guided myself inside you, I let out a grunt, the pillowy soft walls of your tunnel engulfing my tongue in its entirety. Your satin walls gripped and pulsed around me as my tongue plunged into your most intimate depths, lubricating juices leaking around my tongue as your passage clung to me.
Eventually, even that magical moment ended, and both of us spent, we cradled each other until you tired out. I carried you, and your clothes, and brought you back to your maker, who accepted both without a word.
I left that day, looking back many times at your figure, searing your memory into my mind lest I forget.
I didn’t expect you to stay.
Nor for you to like me back.
Now, as you walk beside me to our home, I feel that life, just maybe, is fair.
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Author’s Note : I have no idea why, how or even when I wrote this. My mind has permamently scored that time from my memory. Sleep deprivation is crazy sometimes. That aside, if you’ve come here either before or after reading whatever the fuck I wrote, to make it clearer, substitute the lady with a shawarma wrap and you’re good to go. I think I may have ruined shawarma for myself.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/mezq15/m_trial_by_shawarma