Today is the first day I have actually been out of bed for this long. I am sick sick sick. Body aches, shivers and sweats, chest congestion, sore throat, pounding head, scratchy painful cough, way meaner than usual–the whole bit. Just plain sick. You know I am really sick when I don’t even feel like making myself cum. I watched a little porn, but it did nothing for me. I stroked my kitty a little, it felt nice, warm and wet, but did not have the energy to do anything about it.

I had an insane sex rape dream, in which Philip Seymour Hoffman was starring, not as the rapist, but a freak I fucked none the less. I was lost, lost in my own city it was strange.  I had just gotten my lime green back pack stolen, so I was on the chase, the pack had my cameras in it–with compromising pictures of me–I had to get it back. It was late or early how ever you want to call it, around Bryant and Division streets. Isolated. Two guys pass me, moving toward a guy who was behind me, who I had know idea was behind me. They do some weird handshake followed by odd acrobatics right there in the street. I watch for awhile then keep walking, I sense the same man is behind me. I keep walking, walking until I am lost. He finally approaches me. Questions, eyes penetrate, his thick blond hair is wild and flowing. I glance down, his cock is throbbing hard. Reaching to me, begging me to stroke it. It’s as though I can see it through the fabric of his Adidas sweat pants, I cant control myself, my hand reaches for his hard beam. I can picture it even now, solid reach, that thick seam running the back side–almost like bone within a bone. He is so hard his balls are reaching up too. Only seconds pass before his flesh is filling my hands, my mouth.

He is not aggressive, not until I back off and walk away, then he turns. Then he becomes that fuck animal. Grabbing my pushing me to my knees he forces me to suck, devour that cock. He pre-fluid flows, it’s sweet, I lick it up like he is not really forcing me too. His hand locks to the back of my head and he force feeds me his rock cock. It is raw. He drags me over to these abandon cars, bends me over the hood and yanks my pants to the ground. When he slams his fingers into me he begins laughing in hysterics, calling me wet slut.

His finger fill me up and I hate it and I love it. Bending me further over the hood, kicking my legs apart, he does it. He stabs into me with his cock, over and over and I am crying and I am hating and I am wet and I convulsing around his cock. I dripping in my own juice, angry at myself. I reach in the broken window and begin honking the horn. He fucks me harder. I keep honking, it is like he cannot hear it. Soon the cops show, the cops being Philip Seymour Hoffman. They pull him off, he breaks free and fucks into me again, they get him restrained, looking back at him, his eyes are full of fire, he is unaware of what is going on, and his cock–his cock is dripping, so ready to cum. They toss him into the back of an unmarked car, naked, cock throbbing. His eyes continue to penetrate.

Then I wake up.