I woke up horny this morning, recalling the events of last evening, reliving them mentally. I started to jack off and it hurt to do so, hurt because of the events of last night. My penis was sore from over-exertion last evening, but knowing that memories lose their luster quickly, details become confused, and the participants blurred, I jacked off despite the soreness, wanting to continue last evening while I still could, before this erotic memory either faded or became replaced in the nickelodeon of my erotic imagination by a more recent sexual encounter or by a hoped for one.

I went out into the last hurrahs of the nor'easter that hit yesterday, getting soaked with rain despite my umbrella, went out to this dirty party. The party was underattended because of the rain. The two hour open bar helped me to overlook this. That open bar helped with other things.

At one point in the backroom, G was sitting next to me on a bench and both of us were getting blown by random boys. This perhaps may have been my favorite point in the evening, the feeling of fraternity that overwhelmed me at that point, and the closeness I felt to a friend, him sitting next to me, me able to feel his body, and both of us getting off. My penis was in probably too many mouths. A couple were in mine. I came in a few mouths, pissed in one.

There were lots of sights I saw last night that turned me on then, and which I looked at for the pleasure that the sight gave me then but also, greedy, because I knew that the recollection of those sights, of that couple fucking in the corner, would give me a pleasure, repeatable, with its recall. There was the pleasure of his dick in my mouth, and though that is said in the past tense, there still is that pleasure, still is when I wake up, drowsy from sleep, still in those moments, that dick still in my mouth and me jacking off again, recalling and reliving the moments, doing so, and doing those things last night, because of their impermanence, because to not do these things and live while there is that option would be too terrible, that memories only last so long, and that other things, those things that form memories, also only last so long.