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The Last Time

L at the last time you saw your best friend from school. The last time you were at the bar, in that Asian country. The last time I tasted this liquor. The last time I kissed ...

A born and die everyday situations that never happen again, but the irresponsibility of this is to not live in a constant and dramatic farewell.
However, at other times. Other so many times, if we are aware that "this" is the last time. And we live the anguish of foreplay, trying to cling to the sensations to transform them into memories that deform detalladísimos over time as we please, to be less unhappy. To invent, at least, the past.
However, it also happens that the consciousness of the last time, if it is previously determined, can be rewarding. As the prisoner lives awake the night before his release, because the last time is the beginning of a life without counting the days.

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Perennial Memories

A a memory the feel of her tongue into my mouth, leaning against the bookcase in your living room while the dining room door ajar I could see his wife preparing dinner. Nor I can forget the moment when his hand up my skirt and fingering my ass, whispering: "I know what you like-. Nor have I forgotten his ability to be alone with me.

There unforgettable sensations in life. In life, as a whole. As I was disgusted every time I approached. The nausea I came to see him appear. What I felt dirty. The panic when it rang the doorbell and was alone at home. The fear of going out and find them on the ladder. The unexplained guilt. The anguish of not being able to tell, since nobody would have believed that the gentleman, so respectable, was abusing a girl of ten years.