Time has become meaningless. She won’t let me stop. Her ass tightens around my fingers, buried to the knuckle.
This is an SOS, typed with one hand.
Provisions have run dry. Someone please send water—I’m parched. I can’t remember the last thing I drank, but I think I remember the last thing I ate.
It was her—maybe her ass, maybe her cunt. Hard to say. Malnutrition clouds judgment. Hydration is a distant memory.
She’s lost count of her orgasms. I’ve lost feeling in two fingers.
My hand has been declared MIA.
Reinforcements are cocked and ready.
