Coke Dick Whiskey Dick

“You’re not allowed anymore of that (substance).
You’re going to get coke-dick.
You’re going to get whiskey-dick.
You’re going to get all kinds of dick
except the one that stands up straight
and is of any use.”

Such a tough crowd.
She had her arms crossed.
Doll-Junky, you’re my true high.

Naked. 3PM at a motel room table.
I had just uncorked a bottle of red
with my keys because right now
I could do anything
except her.

She looked around the room and the ceiling, bored.
She said, “Read me your story -the one about the princess.”
“Sweetheart, they’re all about the princess.”
“You’re such a pretentious fuck.”
She lifted her legs, straight and narrow.
Neon toenails…“I want my feet massaged.”
“I want a yacht.” I returned.
“I want to fuck.”
“Well, which do you want,” I asked, “the coke or the whiskey?”

She smiled. “I’ll take the yacht.”

I sighed, fetched my first draft and a glass of whiskey
then I began to read.

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5 thoughts on “Coke Dick Whiskey Dick

  1. “Naked. 3PM at a motel room table.
    I had just uncorked a bottle of red
    with my keys because right now
    I could do anything
    except her.”

    been there. and thats the feeling. anything but the hole staring at you, begging for your crazy cock. great piece. (books weekend at skeeziest hotel in town…)

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