Fiery

"The world should not have been the same, and yet it resisted change, and that world changed. Once again, humanity, without wanting to, found itself at those breaking points, in which the future became more uncertain, and the past struggled to remain in everyone's minds, achieving it for a time despite everything. For those, it was a discovery; for others, it was a fateful encounter. The truth is, he could consider himself lucky in the midst of the misfortune of almost five hundred years.  It could be a thousand years, and human memory is convenient. Fiery. Is there another word to describe her every time she asks for anal sex, sex in the hut, or oral sex without any words of love?. She, who had simply betrayed, returned, excited, masturbated, sucked, but never said I love you. Never. Mack, however, said he was happy. Why not? If those minutes of premature ejaculation, tugging, and penetration were enough, no matter the cost. This was the Caribbean, a place of unfortunate but intense encounters. Those misfortunes that rum, of any kind, intoxicate not to forget but to remember without so much pain. Fiery, she never said she loved me.

It was more than persistence and stubbornness with the fortune of the happy ending that allowed them to survive and return. That which led to survival and became life is fiery human activity. But, it could be part of the individual uncertainty that is only broken by the intimate desire shared for the first and only time. Hence, tremendous and beautiful poems are increasingly copied and rewritten. But humans rarely reread, much less what they have once written. Sometimes, something written by others doesn't have many characters. He couldn't deny that he saw her in the grossly voluptuous and sensual bodies. This Caribbean had too much sexuality and sensuality between the poverty and opulence of the others, the foreigners. She, past, they a present that no longer told her anything, not even wet dreams. Nor desire, just the memory of her fiery spirit, her smile, and that feminine look that was increasingly blurred as a memory. He wouldn't end up ejaculating on some breast. Nor would he seek to tell them the words of love of other times. It was NOT a question of forgive and forget. It was more about feeling and seeing the night and them dancing, but he couldn't love them. No more.

The human in his ego did not recognize love or desire most of the time. When he did it, he was already alone. Whether that loneliness is real or simply the terrible company of another, more broken human. In any case, they are internal quests resolved in the development of other stories and never in stillness, in waiting, or in reading different stories that are not their own. It is then easier to justify what belongs to others than what is one's own, even if innocence or guilt is not necessary. Instead, contribute to boredom and not be exposed. He had to look for her in any bar on the continent, but in '77, she approached him, and they danced. Two rounds later, their lips were without knowing their names. They had three beers and three batches, and they felt each other's excitement. At two in the morning, they were looking for a motel to make love anonymously. It wasn't just sex. It was making love. At 3:10, he asked that woman of copper, sun, and sea his name, and he didn't really remember his name. She did him, and she would remember it for a long time, with that same desire for the second song, not the third, but that second one: "How he knows how to move it," she said to herself, laughing, and he noticed that smile, although he couldn't decipher why.

But not everyone is afraid of being exposed. Some don't care, and others wait for the moment when it becomes so, not for themselves but for others. In this situation, not even justification was painful. It simply either contributed to pride or was not given fundamental importance. In any case, pride, instinct, and pleasure come together to provide something in common with the intensity of life with others. Of course, as long as there is no rejection, no shame, no fear. Even with that, and without that fear, it is possible to overcome greed. Shame didn't have to exist. About what? Why? It is more a question of opportunity and reality. In the end, nothing other than a hot bath that cleansed her, even of her evil and malice, transcended her nights even when she was young; she had learned to enjoy and have all the orgasms possible without having to fake them, to guarantee desire. Everyone remembered her in her ecstasy. From the father of her only child to that old man who had supported her for a while until he got bored, but he enjoyed it, he said to himself as he watched her pass by the beach with a foreigner who was her new lover. She sometimes remembered one or the other. But never to him. And that saddened him profoundly but also freed him."