fellatio moments while in harlem

"Life isn't a matter of milestones, but of moments." - Rose Kennedy

Those sneaky moments when you're a teenager; sixteen, you've just got done with the extravagant activity of female fellatio on a girl you're in a sense technically pseudo dating, it's the right moment, wrong time, and hell of a wrong place. Her home, 4 o clock after school and both of you have just heard the door casually open. "Shit my dad's home." Quickly she's putting her clothes back on as you're trying to find your shirt, book bag and maybe your shoes. You hear the footsteps slowly making it's way to her bed room as the voice of a burly fit man speaks "Sweetie I'm home, how was school?" She's struggling yelling back, "It was alright.." Her voice transfers into the classic "Womp womp womp womp." As you're trying to make it pass the mesh screen of your window. Bumps, bruises, and a yelp all happen as you fall from the second floor into a bush, followed by the classic "Who the hell is that?!?!" and "Where's my gun?!"

Those hilarious moments of bad timing that you can just look back on; you're with close friends, a bottle of scotch, shot glasses, half empty beer bottles, and whatever popular music plays in whatever era you're in. Laughs all around as you explain how as you picked yourself up out of the bush you realized half a branch was piercing through your lower abdomen. Another couple shots are taken and the conversation continues to even deeper moments of explanation of bad timing.

Feelings of closeness, feelings of being "right", just those simple times when I'm in the right moment, though I've never had my timing set. From something as simple as speeding; my adrenaline pulsing, the blur of the road becomes nothing, I'm free in that moment until I see the lights and sirens behind me. Or even falling in love with someone; things are hot and heavy but it turns out perhaps she's married, or she's moving to a distance within the short period of time that there's the illusion of hope for something more, but there really isn't. All in all living in that moment has almost always caused me some sort of consequence. Though what builds us really? What am I able to tell at the end of the day at a table with friends? Truth be told, it's these moments that make our dull lives just all a little more interesting. Like an artist creating something out of clay; his art is never truly his without it's own imperfections, just as our lives are equal to that metaphor. Our imperfections in these moments that we live are what defines us, they're our signature in all truth. They're what people remember at the end of the day, they're who they remember of us truly, our inner personality, our imperfections.



"share a drink, stain the glasses, share your laughs, but at the most share your moments." - Ryan D.