Gollum Meets James Bond

“Come fucks us, precious. We wants it inside of us.” It says these things like it would turn me on, like this is something it has seen on television that works in seduction.

“James Bond is on now, so I can’t,” I reply. I am running out of excuses and this is one of the worst I have used.

It contemplates the statement, a quizzical and accidental look on its face. It has more to say: “Our pussy is wet, yes it’s wet. We wants its cock inside of us. Yes, inside of us yes, sexing us.” It smiles, teeth black and yellow and completely disgusting gleam with wet saliva.

“Moonraker is an integral Bond film,” I lie. “This is like the best one.” I do not mention that I could just pause the shittiest Bond film ever.

“It doesn’t wants to fuck us?” Its former eagerness seems to diminish. But it still has a goal for the evening that completely opposes my own wishes for the rest of my life. “We wants its warm and juicy cock inside of us.”

I am not overly familiar with people describing penises as juicy, maybe vaginas, but everything it does is absolutely scary and crazy. Perhaps the penis reference is in description of literally eating good meat. I would hate my dick to be anywhere near that grotesque mouth.

It is all my fault. I got myself into this situation, and I have allowed sympathy and empathy to intrude upon my sense of fulfillment, but I can’t do it very much longer. I hate to hurt it. I can see that my excuses are getting too thin, and it has been months since I was able to penetrate her, primarily for a complete lack of any desire to do so.

“Look, baby, maybe tomorrow.” Another lie made to make myself more false. Still, they are starting to feel less white and more malicious as the days pass. There can be an extremely thin line between white and other lies and this is something new to me.

“Okay, precious, it fucks us tomorrow. Okay we will waitses, yes, waits for tomorrow. We loves you.” It seems content as it positions its body next to mine in our bed, making me shiver and feel so shallow. Its lust seems temporarily satiated until the next time I have to invent a bullshit excuse.

It is nice to me. It is just very unaware of the nature of reality, and maybe so am I.

Tomorrow will never come, but it is not aware of that at the present.

Okay, this is not for publication as it goes against anything I would feel applicable. Tolkien and Fleming own this more than I do. Just expressing something here. If ever I use either of those characters seriously, it will be in passing, mentioned by characters of my own making.

Gawain