John Dillinger Pussy

By Rhonda Baughman

A clichéd longing is still no less a longing … you should attend to it faithfully.

… And a nugget of elemental truth shrouded in glistening fluid will be nestled deep inside her pussy.

You just have to find it.

It’s your destiny, a duty – to all mankind; a challenge of her new order, demanding focus, precision, timing, and creativity. More than likely you will not possess the qualities necessary for such a mission, and ultimately you will fail in the quest, but the fact that you have even undertaken such a calling demands an acknowledgment of your efforts.

I’m 31 now - the same age as Dillinger when he was shot.

Did you know the first bank he robbed was in Ohio?

You’re not required to answer – just let her talk. Keep your mouth full, not shut.

I’ve been to the Hotel Congress, in Tucson, where Dillinger and his crew stayed.

You know a fire broke out there – and you’re hoping for one now. It seems to be working – but you’re just a man, a mere mortal mired in sugar goddess, fanning flames, singeing your flesh - what do you know, really. Nothing. Nothing but the ache in your jaw and crystalline syrup in your nostrils – and her voice – gangster cold beneath clipped sentences and shallow breathing.

I wonder how many thoughts went through his mind before he died – how many breaths he got before he went down. Three shots hit – I wonder what came out …

You wait to rob her of her surety – just like Dillinger, but the money is in her pussy – and you’ll only need one bullet.