It is August in Los Angeles. In the morning, smoke from the fires hazes the sky, and we are briefly given a grey rest from the white bright sunlight that otherwise lasts from 6am to 8pm. 14 grueling hours of desert sun incinerates everything in it’s path. Blazing into our eyeballs and keeping us awake into the night, long after it has set. It drives us all into a frenzy of lustful energy. Everywhere I go I see frantic eyes scanning the crowds. Everyone is hyper aware, searching for someone compatible, desperate to bang. The burning trees from our forests is incense in the back room that is Los Angeles, and we are all high on the stash of hormones our feral bodies are producing. I can feel it the second I leave my house. The desperation. The wild sexuality. Beautiful, hideous, male, female,  undefined. Everyone wants it. Everyone is looking for it, and it is always available.

    Lately, it seems like everyone I know is trying to fuck me. If not actually, than in a monetary  sense. But most of them quite literally. People I have known for years are coming out of the woodwork and offering me relationships or dates or straight up sex with no strings. All my chickens are coming home, and I’m not sure how much room I have in the hen house. I’m keeping it down to a few solid relationships, though.

    Lawrence is great. Easily the funniest, most kind. We sleep the night together. We wake up and laugh, then do it in the sunlight. With Lawrence, I could see how a girl could want to settle down. 

    Leo is the pedigree. Ivy League, professional, great dresser, great big dick. Easily the biggest of all my current lovers, and he is not afraid to use it. He has central air too, and that is a huge plus, even if I don’t spent the night with him. 

    H is the problem one. I am not sure if it is just a perfect anatomical fit, or we have something really special. Either way, he descends upon me and I find it impossible to free myself from his talons. Sometimes when I am lying in bed, I get a vision of him over me, fucking me, and I can feel his weight on top of me. My knees pull up and my belly contracts and I start to actually come. I know he is doing this remotely to me. He has that power, and he knows my body well, even from the distance of the few miles that separate our homes. So far I have let him do this without letting on that I know, but I love it. Sometimes when Lawrence or Leo is fucking me, I will whisper H’s name into the mattress and tell him how much better he is. I’m calling him. I want him to see me. 

    We are the same in so many ways, sometimes I think the relationship is pure narcissism on both our parts. It is kind of like fucking myself but with an awesome dick that hits every spot I need hit. We are straight up junkies. We crave the dopamine the other provides. I don’t know if any other kind of relationship is possible between us. I don’t totally care. 

    I don’t need the other lovers, mind you, I am happy with just him. But he only loves me when others are having me. When it is just him, he grows bored. He wants me to fuck other people, and he loves me to tell him about it. 

    I sit on his lap and whisper to him the details of what Lawrence did to me days before. How he flipped me over to my belly, wrapped his arms around my torso and pounded me into the mattress while I squealed with delight. I come with him, but hIs dick slips out sometimes. It is not made for me like yours is. 

    I tell him how Leo’s dick is too big for me. When I leave his place I am limping back to my car, and it affects my step for days. I do that thing that you like, where you’re doing me from behind and I reach for your balls, I do it to him, and it drives him mad. He makes me come hard, and his cock is so big, but I am thinking about you the whole time. 

    Then he chastises me. Why where you thinking of me? You should enjoy yourself! Don’t get taken out of the moment. He commands me over his lap, and spanks me for not coming as hard as I should have. He says I am not to think about him when I come. Even when we are together? Especially, he says. HIs fingers tickle my outside labia, moisture is just below it. I want him to reach the well, and begin to move into his hand. He pulls away. I whine, and receive a solid smack on my little bundt cake for it. 

    I’ll do anything you say, I find myself murmuring over and over. And I mean it. Anything he wants. I’ll take on a hundred men just to have him watch in the shadows. None of them means anything to me, all I want is your dick. Your command. Your will upon me. Just touch me below the top of that hot lake between my thighs, in the way that only you can. Show that beautiful cock to me. Let me make it rise from a mushroom to a bull’s horn. I want you. I need you. I adore you. I’m not even sure all those things are true, but it doesn’t matter.

    Lawrence has a birthday, and I have promised to come by his house to give him his present. It is a long sloppy blowjob that ends with him crying “Oh Shit,” at the top of his voice and coming in long silken threads onto the sheets. Then we hug and laugh, and he thanks me repeatedly. He fucks me proper, after we stop laughing, the way he loves to, with me on my belly and his arms wrapped around my torso. I can’t wait to tell H how repetitive he is. 

    By pure coincidence, Leo’s birthday is two days later. I am spread eagle with him feasting on my clitoris, enjoying the air conditioning, by 9pm. I am drunk on white wine and the occasional toke, but Leo is sober 100%. I kind of wish he had something to drink so that dick would be slightly less formidable. Any amount of blood that could be derailed from that monstrous cock would be appreciated. I have to get a little drunk myself so my muscles will relax enough to take it. I am already writing the story I will tell H, and I try not to think of him as I come. He will know if I lie to him. 

    H’s birthday is just after mine, in January. We are Capricorns. Winter children, playing with these summer babies. He and I could hide in the snow, fucking each other in a nest for months. The others need to run and play in the wide open. And when winter rolls around again, I know these summer friends will vanish. H will remain. In my meditations I see him entering the fire and becoming stone. A volcanic stone that can burn and burn, but never turn to ash. 

    But he will leave me again, as he has a few times. He needs to be free to fly where he wants. I will be heart broken again, I know. Then I will find new lovers to attempt fill the void he has left. Then he will return again, and I will take him back again. And I will squirm for him as he tries to teach me a lesson, knowing that I cannot be taught. 

    And all this while we burn and toil, and wait for California to finally break off and sink into he ocean. All this is happening under every roof top, in every apartment, in bar bathrooms, under bridges in parked cars. It is a constant stew of sweat and pheromones and desperation. California. Oregon. Sweden. Australia. Borneo. The world is on fire, and everyone here is fucking.

    s