Waking up to the forever-painful-reminder-of-having-drunk-way-too-much-wine-and-having-smoked-way-too-many-cigarettes-and-more-than-one-puff-of-white-widow was, strangely enough, becoming a habit.
It was 10:17 am and the birds were singing outside. I could hear their goddamn conversations as if they were sitting next to my left ear. I was always able to hear better with my left ear. It was like when women tell you that one of their tits is bigger than the other, or when serious looking people tell you that they have one arm or leg longer than the other. But for men, it's always the balls. One is always hanging lower than the other 'cuz it's bigger and produces more sperm, so that is why it's bigger and heavier. For me, it was my hearing abilities. I could hear better with my left ear.
I was still drunk, sweaty and I had this strong urge to piss. I could't get up. It hurt to even think. The noise outside felt like atom bombs exploding inside my skull. This had to be what if fells like when you die, or when you are born. Everything was so painful. The light, the sounds, the thoughts. Had I been born again?
I tried to recall the events that took place the night before. I just remembered I had tons of red wine. Fuck, I needed a cigarette.
I managed to get out from the painful comfort of my own bed. I looked for a cigarette in a futile attempt to numb myself out of this all. I searched everywhere but apparently i had ran out of smokes. Deep inside my shoulder bag there was an almost destroyed joint. Not what I had been longing for but definitely something I could puff on, and maybe something that would help the pain go away.
I took out my zippo lighter and lit the crooked joint. I began smoking mother nature's remedy.
Soon I felt better. As if I had just begun feeling the booze kick in. It was nice. So I made my way into the toilet. I needed to release some pressure from my bladder. I lowered my briefs and took my cock out. I never liked wearing boxers. I had always liked to keep my cock and balls concealed into a nice bulging shape. Hence avoiding the uncomfortable feeling of my nuts jumping all round when I danced.
I was sweating alcohol. With my left hand I held the joint. With my right one I held my cock. I puffed another white cloud of this miraculous medicine. I looked down and tried to aim my piss at the center of the toilet bowl. I didn't want to miss the spot.
A nice, almost transparent discharge of piss came out of my cock making me feel somewhat aroused.
This was the side effects of drinking too much red wine, I thought.
I could smell the alcohol leaving my body in the form of urine. I exhaled what seemed to be a white wind whirl byproduct of the widow I was smoking.
I continued to piss. And as I did, I could feel my cock getting harder and harder. The feeling that you get when your cock is getting bigger, in your hand, someone else's mouth or in your pants, is something so amazing to try to describe it.
I began shaking my dick, as men always do when they are done pissing. All I could think of was my friend's almost wise words: "A mouth is a mouth. As long as a mouth is wrapped around your cock, you don't really care if it's a dude's or a chick's". All I could think of was that I wanted a mouth to suck on my hard cock. Goddamn red wine, I thought. It always makes me so fucking horny. I began to masturbate.
As I continued stroking I realized that this was not my toilet. And that someone had been standing behind the ajar doors long enough to catch a glimpse of me and my cock.
A mouth is a mouth, I thought to myself.