The rotting shed

it was going to be tight. tight, but doable. the aroma of almond oil was masked entirely by the distinct fresh citrus of pine forest in early days of summer and dark earthy notes of a shed in late stages of decomposition

one hand was slick and oily. this made unscrewing the plastic jar lid mildly inconvenient. it needed to be kept clean, if not sterile, but that was hard to do in a rotting building

it would have to do. the jar ended up on the cross beam that had become exposed after whatever had covered it had disappeared. there were rodent droppings amongst the dust and detritus. it could always be wiped clean later. the cellphone likewise. focus

not going anywhere fast with the usual stuff. so much beauty on display, but standing with shorts on knees, and holding green flannel shirt away from the nether oiliness with one hand, was awkward. this would require darker imagery

blonde bbc was far more helpful in reaching conclusion. perhaps the shame of enjoying watching multiple strutting blackness's enjoy the milky white softness. it was reciprocal. blissful abandonment, ecstasy of such a pretty girl. the end destination was approaching

with surprising dexterousness a few gushes gathered into a puddle of maleness, filling an unsatisfactory small part of the specimen collection plastic jar

pleasure faded fast and the video was hastily closed, before the fear of wanting to know what being shared like that, could descend further into manifestation. that particular consciousness was consigned back to the shadow

a success, everything considered, despite the awkwardness of having to pull the paper napkins out of the right short pocket with the left hand. the one not covered in almond oil

cleaned up. jar "filled up". a residue of mild disgust at what was witnessed, but it was not enough to demand acknowledgment

the legs started to itch where they had brushed stinging nettles. they would do so again covering the short distance through the thicket where a garden had once been

reaching the car the clock confirmed drop-off would be within the deadline. close, but on time. strange to hope the sample did not contain life. getting the snip was not an op that would be repeated

emasculation feels like a joke punchlined by Death