It's ninety degrees on an early August morning. There's a can of Coke in the back of the fridge. You take it, because you're an adult and it's fucking ninety degrees and the sun's just barely pulled itself over the horizon. You've been awake for at least an hour, thinking about the Coke. Driving yourself half mad with thirst. You're throat is all clicky clacky, making strange, tribal sounds all on its own.
The can feels colder than ice in your hand. Frost embraces your grip.
You've waited so long. Take me
That can, Red and Black. Glistening with condensation. Part of you wants to take it upstairs - to take your pleasures in your bed. Another part of you, throbbing with urgency, screams that there is no time. Every second in your hot little hands wamrs it's contents. Kills it.
No! You two have waited too long. The time is now. Here. In front of your fridge. With the door open. The cool air your only foreplay.
You pull the tab.
OMG. That sound. That sound is all promise and invitation. That urgent hiss that sounds like a prom date whispering do it.
She's only 12 ounces, you fucking animal, but you don't care. Like a vampire, you mouth is on it, and your throat is flood with sweet icy carbonation.
You don't exactly cum, that's what your thinking.
One gulp. Another.
Swallow you bitch. You whore.
You deserve it all. The frosty taste and the humilation.
Later, at the end. She'll be all warm backwash and you'll wonder what you ever saw in her.
But for now.
Swallow, whore.
