(dedicated to Moreno, Sebastian, Emily and all my other friends bakers)
Fuck. Whip. Heavy velvet curtains. The cold air conditioner whirlpool. The snap on my skin. Fuck. Whip. Watery eyes but I'm happy. I remember Claudia dressed completely in leather. I can not stand the latex, while the skin, that is. It smells. He belonged to an animal. Vive. You seem comfortable with the rubber cock. What kind of people have become? I think as you do crack the whip on my buttocks. I want to talk, but I would say to stop, then say nothing. DICK. When pleasure becomes unbearable I close my eyes. But not quite. From the window of opportunity remains open I see the distorted reality. Claudia is like an ice cream poison, a cataract insensitive. I do carry the touch. The feel is tutto.FRUSTA. All touch. As the skin is impregnated with sweat and generates sweat. Grates catch a glimpse of the passers-up in principle, have to queue for a sfincionello. Ironic, no? A long line that twists up to four quarters, for rationing. But do I care? Are baker and my wealth is directly related to others' poverty and despair. I'm the only baker left and so I can take the luxury of me hanging from Claudia, the daughter of the goalkeeper, Piana. No. I do not longer enough cannoli. I am not longer enough cannoli, give me your daughter, if you want bread. But Claudia is perfect. Fuck. Whip. There was no need to teach her anything. It's like exit out of the sourdough. I feel rise. Now I know what it means to be happy. Now I know. It's the fear, the certainty that that big rubber cock penetrate me. The desire, in the end. Above all desire.
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