A Lack of Nicotine

She used to take my breath away.
Sometimes she still does.
I slid my hand along her waist, her chest…heard her gasp & sigh in pleasure. Kissed along her neck, breathed into her ear…she sat up and kissed me long and hard on the lips. I groaned as she slipped her small hands past the elastic of my underwear…caressed me softy, just like we taught each other…
“Who the fuck is Tamara?”
“What?” I opened my eyes, groggy.
“You were moaning her name.” The familiar voice faded away into sobs. Not again I thought. I held my emotional girlfriend in my arms as she sobbed, and told her automatically, like a robot, that it was a mistake, I always meant her name, I always meant Amanda.
“I…I’m going to have a shower.” As she stood up, her lean and frail body was bathed in sunlight. I felt a pang of misery at remembrance of Tamara’s curvy body. I shook my head and lay back down, waiting for sleep to wash over me again. It didn’t come.
“Morgan…I’ve been thinking.” Startled, I didn’t even hear the taps go on. “Morgan. I think we should break up. I’ve packed all my stuff. I’m going to live with my sister.” She moved around the room, picking up her things. Silence, for a few moments.
“Is this about this morning?” I said finally, lighting up a cigarette.
“No.” She rounded on me, “It’s not. I can’t live with you any more. You smoke, you drink every night, and I know you haven’t given up the Pot! Look at you, you’re stoned now! And I can’t take it anymore!”
She stormed out of the room. I looked around me, at the half-empty room.
The now half lived-in house.
I felt a pang of regret, and took a long drag.

She took my hand and led me down the corridor.
Giggled as we got to her bedroom, then started stripping off. First the shirt, then the skirt…she wiggled over to me and started undressing me too…
She put a firm hand on my neck and pushed me down onto the bed, crawling on top of me. She started kissing my lips, then my face, then my neck, softly biting my ear, moving back down to my neck…then going down, down, down…I looked down and saw a look of rabid greed as she buried herself in between my legs…
“Tamara? Who the hell?” His rough voice echoed through the abandoned toilets.
“Oh…uhm…” I tried to pull something out of my head, but the words wouldn’t come. I felt too groggy and doped-up to care too much. “Does it really matter? Just shove it in me, okay?”
“Er…I can’t fuck a dyke.”
“What?” I said, bolting upright. Errg…too fast…
“You heard m-“ I stopped him by throwing up all over him.

She burned me with the wax and the look she gave me,
I pictured her as I shoved my hands down my boxers. All dressed up, stilettos, fishnets, thong and corset…she knew how to do it for me…
Whipping me, making me scream with delight,
I rubbed harder…moaning softly. Tamara…
Her fingers were deep inside of me…just like they used to do,
Tamara…
I rammed her hard, her eyes rolling to the back of her head…
Tamara. Oh…oh Tamara…
We were fucking each other, staring at each other and screaming, moaning, panting, dripping in sweat…
I sat bolt upright.
In my head and in my boxers, I came.
“Have another good dream honey?”
Tamara sat up and wrapped herself around me.