Tomic Riter

Tag: writer

  • Hangover maybe.

    They make sad faces everywhere. Faces with subdued smiles. Because if they really open their mouths and laugh, this world will come to an end. Such hideous creatures. Such dull monsters. Such jackals tearing up and the sky and the earth with their shallow sadness and boring humour and boring talking. Such rats not even good enough for our laboratories, or for feeding to our mean stupid heartless cats. I want your hands on my balls again. Your lips on my lips. My fingers inside you everywhere. But you died last night, only I died before you. Woke up with a headache. I think it’s from the terribly caustic rum I drank last night. It has turned me into a desert, robbed me of water. Waiting for electricity since yesterday morning. ‘Hey motherfucker. When will the electricity be back? What happened?’ I asked a man last night. ‘Hey sonofabitch. Something blew up badly. It won’t be coming before morning,’ he replied. It’s morning now and he was just talking shit. ‘Hey motherfucker. You said it would come back by morning. What the hell happened?’ I went to the same old man this morning and asked. ‘Hey sonofabitch. I don’t know. Something blew up badly. Maybe it will come back by noon,’ he replied. ‘Fine,’ I said and drank a cup of tea and then drove back home.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Banging on my desk.

    Working saturday sucks. It sucks more when it’s a holiday but you are supposed to work because you didn’t finish the work earlier on time. It sucks because the work will really never finish but your life surely will. And on your death bed, you won’t remember and cherish a single moment spent on correcting Excel sheets and Word documents and producing copies of copies of copies of the same folder on your computer. It’s noon now and too hot outside. I am sitting in front of a water cooler and it doesn’t make any difference to the amount of sweat on my forehead and around my lips. I am sitting and staring at the computer screen in front. I would rather we make love now. We could make love at the back on that table. We could make love right here on the floor. We could make love right here right now in my chair, you on top of me, me removing your bra, you pulling down my trousers, my cock inside you, your mouth inside my mouth, your hair in my hands. I don’t give a fuck about this job and this work. It’s an unending drudgery. It has destroyed my ass, my heart. We both want the same. We both want to make each other wet, make so much love. I am having an erection already, my hundredth erection since I woke up, thinking about you and me.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • I want you all the time.

    My face between your breasts. Your clit warm in my hands. My palms on your butt. I am kissing you and licking you. My face rubbing on your breasts. Your breasts pushing me down under them. I am warm under you. I am loving it. I am touching your clit, sucking your nipple, taking it with my tongue, then with my whole mouth. I am sucking you deep, sucking so nicely, my lips never leaving you. I am raising my hips to touch your clit with my cock. I am hard so hard. You rubbing your clit on my cock. It feels so good, so wonderful, so beautiful. You clit up and down on me. I am holding you tightly, my cock inside you, deep and strong. Your hips opening to me, my cock in and out of your sweet well, in and out. In and out. In and out. You moaning for me. You wetting for me. I am opening you more and more for me. I want you deeply. I want you badly. I want you all the time.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • All that without punching a single wall.

    I don’t remember at what time I fell asleep last night. But so what. It was past midnight and that’s all I remember. I remember removing my clothes and lying down next to you in bed. I remember your head on my chest, my arms on your back, you falling asleep on me. Woke up this morning without enough sleep. Woke up too soon. Woke up at 6:10, washed my filthy eyes, removed leftover dinner from the fridge, left it open on the sofa. Fell down in bed at 6:21, setting a new alarm of 6:35 in my cellphone, otherwise I wouldn’t have woken up until noon. Threw away the cellphone, closed my eyes. 8 in the morning is too early to go back to work, too early to to go back to that goddamn desk littered with pointless documents, too early to wake up for anything unless we are making love. Woke up at 6:35. Turned off the goddamn alarm. Closed my eyes. Woke up again at 6:42. Sat on the bed, cursed my job. The weather was still cool. It won’t be the same an hour later, I thought. Nothing is same an hour later, whatever hour it is. Got up naked, walked to the toilet, pissed on the yellow stained wall, pissed in the hole that never gets tired of taking my shit, pissed for ten minutes, pissed all of it. Got out, walked to the sink, Opened the tap. Picked up the toothbrush, applied some paste. Threw away the toothpaste. Washed my face with right hand, brushed my teeth with left, looked with both eyes half opened at all the dirt in my kitchen – plastic bottles, salt everywhere, cooking oil flowing down the granite slab, roaches crawling around, roaches sleeping in their homes on the back side of my induction stove. Watched and brushed for so long. Walked to the leftover dinner, poured all the rice and curry in a pan, placed the pan on the stove, turned on the stove, walked back to the sink with limp cock and dry throat. Noticed half the toothpaste dripping down on my stomach. Stopped brushing. Filled my mouth with the awfully dirty tap water, spat all in the sink, spat thrice, poured some of that water on my stomach, wiped with my palm. Threw away the brush. Left dinner on the stove, left it to turn magically into my breakfast. Walked to my bedroom, wore a pair of blue jeans, the same one that I have been wearing since the big bang. Wore my plain orange polo t-shirt, walked to the stove, turned it off. Picked up a spoon, mixed rice and curry. Whatever was there in the pan, it looked good enough, even kind. At 8 in the morning, what else could I expect! Walked with pan to my bedroom , sat in my chair, ate everything, drank water, got up. Threw the empty pan in the sink, turned off the only fan running, closed all the windows, picked up my bag. Left you sleeping. Stepped out. 7:43 on the clock. Everything done poorly. Everything done anyways.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Shaking up the things.

    Sleepy eyes. Sweat on my back. Scorching sun following me everywhere. Sitting for hours at one desk. Often, I forget I have the choice to stand up. Often, I forget to take a piss. Often, I forget to drink water. Often, I am just sitting there at my desk, waiting for the working hours to end so that I can go back home and make myself some black coffee, play some old gold music, do a little writing, look out of the window of my bedroom, lie in bed and imagine you on me and end up masturbating and then back in my chair. Today is another day when you won’t be here until late. You are tired, I know. You want to get done with it as quickly as possible. I wish you were here. I could have given you a nice body massage before you went to work, and then we would have made love again. We are making love now. In my head, we are making love all the time, your skin on my skin, me touching you everywhere at once. There’s dust buried in the corner of my eyes, dust flowing through the window and settling down on my sofa, dust everywhere on the road to my home. Caffeine has started kicking in. I can feel it in my eyes more than anywhere else. I can feel it clearly. Tomorrow, I run out of water. But that happens tomorrow and it may never come. Gulping down the last of this coffee now. Putting down the cup. Touching my cock. Closing my eyes. You are here.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • I am growing for you anyways.

    Back home after a short day at work. A colleague, who is a fucking asshole, got tested positive. So we all packed our shit and left all the files and documents, urgent or not, on a goddamn table and we locked that hellish place and drove off. On the way back, it started raining. My clothes are still wet. I am sitting half naked in my chair and thinking about how it started raining out of nowhere. I wasn’t prepared for the weather. But then, I am hardly ever prepared for anything. I am sitting bare-chested and thinking about how the raindrops were hitting my head like giant boulders falling from the sky. I am sitting and sipping hot coffee and thinking about your lips on my cock this morning, about your hands on my skin, I am thinking about you under me. We look so beautiful, so wonderful like that. We become the most peaceful of all the creatures. I love you under me, my legs between your legs, my chest touching your breasts, you wanting my mouth on those big and pretty nipples. I love us. I love me and you moving together. I was thinking about your ass back at work, and I am thinking about your ass now. I am thinking about your ass all the time, how it moves for me, how it makes me want you so badly. You are gone again but I am growing for you anyways. Your lips have torn apart my head. Your tongue puts me out of any misery. I could feed on those lovely nipples of yours all my life. It all feels so great and alright with my cock deep inside of you. I feel happy and alive. It’s noon now and your thoughts continue to make me wet. I will take a piss and change my clothes and go out and find something warm to eat.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • With all that and all those.

    At this speed, it would take me a hundred days to finish the first draft. Pathetic. Yes. Pathetic is what I am to say the least. Pathetic is what I do best. Even caffeine doesn’t help. It only burns my chest. Sleep comes to me like a sexy goddess, like you, and it tries to climb up my legs, paralyzing me out of ecstasy, sending my cock in a mad frenzy. I can’t help but think about your wonderful ass. It makes me feel good. It makes me whole. It brings out the best in me. I can’t help but think about your lips. Your lips licking my lips. Your tongue licking my tongue. I can’t help but think about your nipples. Your nipples on my chest, keeping my skin warm. Your nipples growing wild and bursting with my lips on them. I can’t help but think about you sitting on my cock, my hands on your ass, your mouth in my mouth. With all that ass and all those nipples and all those lips, you are not here as I go mad alone and put myself on fire sitting on my bed.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • A little something before I fall again.

    Who really cares about writing in the afternoon! Afternoon is a dead time. The most dead part of the day. Afternoon sucks. But for some reason, the tree leaves appear greenest in the afternoon. Slap me if I am wrong. Pull out all my teeth. But I will say that again. My legs are still aching. Yesterday morning, I walked more than I should have. But I couldn’t help it. The weather was so good. I couldn’t help but walk more than usual. I remember waking up today morning with cramps in my right leg. All the muscles there were aching and it felt like they totally dried. I felt like screaming. But soon I fell asleep again and I didn’t scream. Believe me, I didn’t. I just drank some water and fell down on my pillow. I finally woke up much later and it took me some time to realize that I had completely failed in hearing the alarm ring. God woke me up. And why wouldn’t he. He loves to fuck up my day. Any day. He woke me up only to throw me into the giant money thresher. I am just a pawn. Worse, I am an intelligent pawn. He would make sure I get sucked up before I fall dead. There’s no rest for me. No break. No mercy. Salvation doesn’t seem like a feasible option. I sometimes wonder if I would die of a simple heart attack, or it would be something more dramatic, something more time taking. My eyes are getting heavy again. I hate to cough. I am sitting almost naked in my chair and watching the greenest tree leaves ever created, the yellow of the sunlight falling through the window on my pillow. Now the yellow is gone. Must be the clouds gathering above. Yeah. Everything is beginning to slow down under the monotonous humming of the ceiling fan. I am slowing down. I stop.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • You can call it day one or whatever.

    The cyclone has started pissing everywhere. Grey sky today. Sunlight did fell down for some time in the noon. I had to change my sleeping position several times Now it’s just windy and dim and a few people are taking a walk outside. The cyclone won’t be hitting us that bad. I don’t live on earth. I am living somewhere between Mars and Earth, because you can find here none of what you see on Earth. At this point, it is natural to assume that I have been fooled all my life, and that I have no idea about what I am talking.

    Woke up after a long slumber. Thankfully, my head isn’t aching. I am just feeling drained. I ate too much in lunch, and whenever I do that, my half day goes to waste. Some white-haired half bald short man is walking alone half naked in my garden at six in the evening. What the hell! What’s going on! Is this even my home! It must be Monday. Yeah. It is indeed. Mondays are great only for the unemployed. I miss my days of unemployment a lot. I think I have said that on several occasions. When I was unemployed, I was so free. So fucking free. I want those days to come back. I am tired of this white-collared slavery. It’s a pain in my ass. It’s the path to lifelong hemorrhoids, to cancer, to irregular blood pressure, to diabetes, to complete failure at doing anything of worth. There’s no adventure. Life crawls out of you slowly but steadily. You can feel it. You can really feel it.

    I better get back to my short story. It has been alone for long. It’s a beautiful story inside my head. I just want to put it down before it dies in my terrible head. Before that, a cup of black coffee will be all.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Back to misery land.

    Got home. Unlocked the door. Stepped inside. It was fucking dirty. Why wouldn’t it be. I had been away for quite long. The virus had fucked me up. But now, I am fine. Almost fine, I would say. Cleaned my bedroom and that’s all I could manage to clean. It was all so fucking dirty, I felt like changing my home again. There was no electricity. GREAT! And no drinking water. BRAVO! And certainly nothing much to eat. Got naked. Put a bucket of water to heat. It was freezing cold. Soon, it started raining. I realized that I had left open all the windows. By the time I reached the main hall, water was gushing inside through the window. Cold, pure rainwater straight from the grey dark hell above. I ran to the window, shut it, and moved back. There was soil all over my skin. A thick layer of it. It proved to be a long journey and somewhat tiring.

    I was looking for a chair to sit down when I remembered that I had left both the chairs on the roof. I forgot to bring them inside before I had left home. I ran upstairs, opened the iron door to the roof, found the chairs upside down, blown away several times by the winds, washed dirty by the rainwater. Their arms had turned black from dirt. Their color had gone away back to the sunlight. I brought one chair downstairs with me, took it to the bathroom, washed it with water, then kept it outside to dry. I also noticed that the electricity was back. In ten minutes the chair was looking clean and fresh, only without color. It looked as if the meat had left its bone, but the bone was shining and looking good enough, and one could think about sitting on it. In ten more minutes, the water had heated sufficiently. I lifted the bucket, took it back to the bathroom, mixed some cold water, had a quick bath using minimum soap and a drop of face wash gel, came out wearing a towel, sprayed a lot of deodorant on my skin everywhere, and waited for my skin to dry.

    Outside, it had stopped raining, the cool winds were swaying the leaves and tress in my garden. I noticed that a few trees had broken down. I had no energy to look further into the matter. The trees laid down on the floor like brown skeletons. I started feeling sleepy. I wore a fresh pair of underwear, and then I walked to my chair, sat in it, turned on my laptop. I desired a hot cup of black coffee as I began munching chocolate cookies. I straightened my backbone and began typing.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.