Golf-India-Romeo-Lima Ch. 05

Some time later Helena came back to us with a bottle of champagne. That was the right idea at the right time. I felt thirsty like a camel after crossing the Sahara. We shared the content of the bottle between us three which did not take us long. I laid down on my back and closed my eyes. I felt Melba's hand on my tummy and her dense curls at my shoulder. I relaxed, fulfilled and satisfied and worn out like after a marathon race. I dozed away.

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I woke up because of a slurping sound. I opened my eyes and saw the butt of the redhead presenting me her snatch shamelessly. Her head got up and down over the lap of her lover as she applied for morning dew.

"Where the fuck am I?"

I raised my head to get an overview.

Bad mistake!

Each single molecule of C₂H₅OH and C₂₁H₃₀O₂ which I had abused during the night had entrenched along a front line from temple to temple right through my head and raising my head was the signal for my body's own armies to push them back... and they just started up with artillery. But not with sporadic gunfire. It was a Battle of the Somme like barrage shelling the shit out of the foe. And this battle took place right behind my forehead unfortunately.

OH, ohhh, ouch!

I grabbed my head and pressed my fingertips against my temples to squeeze the piercing pain out, but it was useless. Then I caught sight of my lap and was shocked.

What ever combination of molecules I had used, I had found the secret formula to grow dicks on chicks. From my lap stood an impressive cock upright like a proud soldier and kept watch.

My goodness! I was about to freak out.

Then the insight reached me through the dense fog of gun smoke that billowed through my brain, that this cock was only strapped to my waist. So I could get rid of it and I did. I still owned my pussy and I felt thankful. Then I saw the bodies of Melba and Helena sleeping next to me and I got some puzzle pieces of memory back.

A hell of a party, no doubt about. Freaky fuckin' New Year, yay!

I tried to walk with soft steps as each jolting released another volley of artillery along the whole temple to temple front line. Slowly and carefully I left the room for the library. Some guests had left already while others were still lying unconscious. Except the redhead who was busy preparing her protein shake for breakfast and her enjoying lover.

Did they have a break at all? I wondered and vanished into the library where I collected my clothes.

I put them together to a bundle and checked my status. My chest was covered with dried spurts of cum and between my legs the situation was obviously worse. I needed a shower urgently. So I went around the rooms to find the bathroom.

Though I had no closer look around because I was too dizzy, I noticed that the penthouse was really beautiful and gentrified. But I had no admiration for the interior because I was close to collapse. Finally, I found the bath, took one of the large towels from a cabinet and went inside the shower.

The water pouring on me was warm and helpful. Though it did nothing to ease my headache, it put some life back into my body. It helped me to get rid of the traces the night had left on me. I took my time to enjoy the cleaning water until I felt alive again. Well, kind of as my head was humming still. I left the shower and dried myself. I saw to the mirror over the sink and noticed a pack of one-way toothbrushes on the shelf beneath.

Great! Someone has used his nous.

I brushed my teeth, slowly of course as I did not want to risk any jolting to my head as I saw a guy entering the bath. I could not wrap a towel around fast enough, as I already felt his hand on my butt.

"Good morning, cutie," he grinned and was about to slide his fingers between my thighs.

I dropped the toothbrush and looked at him through the mirror. "Keep your hands off, I tell you," I hissed with lathery mouth.

"Don't fuss. You haven't been so prudish as you made out with the girls," he gave no hint he would follow my words.

Don't play this game with me, prick. Not while my head explodes."

I whirled around like a flash and hit a hard blow with the side of my hand to his wrist that sent his hand off. "No means no, prick. You don't look like one of the girls, so leave me alone before I get really pissed," I growled at him.

"Wow, easy," he stepped back. I think the foam at my mouth let me appear like suffering canine madness. Anyway, he left and banged the door close behind. I cleaned my mouth and dressed up in a hurry. Suddenly I was eager to get out of this place.

As I was dressed I had a look at the party room but I found Melba and Helena still sleeping. I felt no need to awake them and left the place, accompanied by the angry glance of a guy rubbing his wrist.

I fled from the building and was slapped by the cold and fresh air outside. This was poison for my head, so I was informed by a piercing ache. I had a look at the next corner and read the street names at the signs. I called for a cab after I had figured out where I was.

Not much later I stood in my own bathroom and took a package from the bathroom cabinet. A Fischer-Z song came to my mind:

Pretty paracetamol you soothe my aching brow,

I need you when my head is spinning round,

I look into the looking glass but none of them is me,

It takes at least an hour to put me down

I looked into the looking glass after I had dropped right two of the pills.

Is that you? I saw into the eyes of my image. I had to congratulate me. From normal - I admit, almost normal - girl to slut in less than a year. Nice performance. My participation at this orgy was so far the all time low of my capers. But I did not think much about my sudden holier-than-thou attitude. I was simply happy as the artillery ran out of shells and the pain eased. Chemistry can be a real life saver.

I went to bed and pulled the blanket over my head. All I wanted was to sleep. Sleep, dear gracious sleep. Take me away and send me some dreams. Pleasant ones, if I may express a wish. Fortunately I was wasted enough that I did not have to wait for long until I slept deep and dreamless.

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Prometheus had cheated on Zeus once to favor mankind, but as he challenged Zeus the second time and brought the miracle of fire to mankind, his fate was sealed. He was chained on a rock and each day an eagle feasted on his liver which grew back during the night. Day by day, week by week, year by year.

But Prometheus' gift fell on fertile soil. During the ages Prometheus stood tortured, mankind learned to use his gift. For heating their homes, melting metals out of ore. Forming the metals and using the fire for their purpose. Finally, they discovered how to enclose the fire into metal tubes; igniting it a several hundred times each minute. Using it to power piston and rod. Combustion engine.

I only needed a thumb on a button to get this sophisticated machine to work. The torque pushed the machine slightly against my thigh, then it coughed one time, took a deep breath and awoke out of its hibernation with a dark grim roar. It shook its fatigue away and vibrated full of expectations between my legs like a tiger before the hunt.

My personal calendar had reached a new season: bike time.

During the dark winter month I had done my best to keep sedated and to divert my thoughts through activities, work and encounters. This somehow was no match to the feeling which overwhelmed me while riding my bike.

The force of acceleration when I twisted my wrist. The smell of the trees while riding through a road that was cut through a forest. The warmth of the sun and the freshness of the wind that blew around my head like a hurricane while I raced straight ahead.

The rhythm of the road and its corners. Feeling the centrifugal force while tilting the machine deep into each turn. Getting into the rhythm and melting into one with machine and road. This was a much more satisfying drug for me than anything else I tried so far.

While I was the ball during the winter more or less just rolling around, with springtime I became the slugger again. It was like I was rising myself out of hibernation and I became alive, fresh and new born.

This fresh air of springtime, piercing through like an arrow, blew away the dullness and brought back my thoughts. I saw clearly what I did during the last months. Though I was not driven by moral assumptions, I could not escape the perception that I had hurt others. Those who had been abused by me during my useless attempts to fill the emptiness inside, while they were hoping for something better. While I myself was hoping for something better.

I felt disgust for myself. Had it not been my principle to treat others as I would like to be treated? I broke this rule more than once and I started to regret it. Though I was not hiding anything and telling in advance that it would be nothing more than an encounter, I understood where I failed. Magdalena for example. This cute, slightly naive girl that had so obviously had a crush on me. She was melting in my hands and decayed under my kisses. I should have spared her at least. Each of her tears burned on my guilty consciousness like drops of liquid lead.

Moreover I understood that the person I had abused the most was myself. I was about to lose myself and this came clear as the riding blew my mind straight again.

I kicked one gear down and opened the throttle valves as if I could escape myself. Neither I nor my thoughts were left behind as I darted sideways into the next corner to get rid of my followers. They kept the pace anyway.

To make matters worse the second anniversary was close. The day as Sasha called for the first time. Her voice through the line which sounded so pleasant. I remembered how she shot me with her six-shooter spray cream can one year ago and how beautiful she looked wearing her golden dress. I was such an idiot to waste that. I felt so tired of being me.

I followed the road automatically. I paid attention about its curves and bumps, but not where it leads to. Eventually I figured out that I was near the place where the railroad crossed the small river. My favorite secret place that we had enjoyed so much. I took the tiny way and drove there. Reaching the river I parked my bike and crossed over the bridge.

On my way to the tiny beach I collected some dry sticks and branches. I settled down and started a small campfire at the beach. As the flames went cracking along the wood I observed the mesmerizing dance of the yellow and orange ghosts. I undressed my jacket and rolled it up like a pillow. I laid down and watched the flames devouring the wood. Somehow I had devoured myself in a similar way.

It became crystal clear that I was on a road to nowhere. That I would not be able to rip the feelings out of my chest that I still felt for Sasha, no matter how hard I would try. I had to talk to her, because there were too many things left unspoken.

I realized that I had to tell her these unspoken words to come clear again. If not with her, then at least with myself. I took the decision to talk to her. I would call her and ask her, beg her, I would kneel down just to make her listen. I was afraid of it like nothing else but on the other hand I felt eased.

At last, I had taken a decision. I would turn around on my way and return to the very beginning in order to find a new path which would hopefully lead to a different destination than self-destruction. I turned on my back and watched the clouds above me which were driven by the winds. I could see animals inside them, faces and abstract ornaments.

I call her tomorrow, I promise!

I closed my eyes and felt the slight wind breezing from the river that fondled my face with its freshness. I was certain and I would not chicken out. Not this time. Maybe it would not heal this way as there was no guarantee. But it was guaranteed that it would not heal if I did not give it this chance. I did not hope for regaining her love or to fall into the honeymoon phase again. But I hoped for a clean slate and the chance to make a fresh start for myself.

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I was freezing as I opened up my eyes. The campfire had burned out and it was almost dark. How long had I been sleeping? I checked my watch and leaped up. Dammit, I would be late for work. I hate being late!

I took my things and rushed over the bridge to get to my bike. I jumped on it and hit the road again pushing hard. The headlamp sent a piercing beam of glistening light through the crepuscule of dusk as I flew along the road.

Breaking, two gears down, inside the corner and flat out. Then time stood still.

There are certain situations when you either panic and become stunned unable to do anything or you get a rush of adrenaline and everything your body is able to employ kicks in at once. Your brain works as fast as you have never thought it could. It is like changing the frame rate from 30 frames per second up to an astronomic count that feels as if everything is decelerated to slow motion.

As the light beam caught the head of the deer standing across the road the deer experienced the first option, blinded by the light and stunned. I experienced the second.

I remembered the ride with Sasha.

"Why so slow?" she had complained from behind.

"Dusk," I had explained, "Many deer around in this area. You wouldn't like me to shoot one for supper, would you?"

"OH!" She had hugged me tighter. "Responsible driving, I like!"

I taunted myself - a Darwin award worthy fucktard.

I was done!

I was much too fast to push further down and pass the animal behind its tail. To pass at its head would lead me directly into the woods. At this speed a rather bad option as there were some pretty hard trees waiting. To hit the deer directly seemed similarly suicidal. I did the only thing which seemed to include a slight option of survival.

I don't want to die, not now. Not this way. Not before I had the chance to talk to her one more time. May be the last talk we ever have but only that last talk.

I jumped off and let the bike go. The impact at the asphalt was hard and I slid along observing the sparks of metal scratching over the road as my bike sled along another way. Then my body overturned and I was thrown upside down and head over heels. The forest, road, deer, sky - everything was spinning around as if I was sitting inside the drum of a washing machine looking through the door window while being spun at full speed.

My Icarus experience, my fall, my living - all of a sudden it all came to an end as I hit the ground and received a hard blow to my helmet.

Silence.

Darkness.

Naught.

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I thank you for your interest as you made it that far and I sincerely hope you found it interesting to read. The next chapter is soon to follow, if Chris will survive.

Every vote and comment is very welcome.

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