Astrid

The first time I met her, from an ad in Backpage, Astrid was sort of roundly and assertively fat, enthusiastic with fetching eyes, and carried big round half melon tits high on her chest. She loved smoking the crack I offered. I would learn later that she had been released from prison just three days before, was almost surely on probation. She looked very butch. The sides of her head were close shaved, sporting a faux-hawk, and I swore she was lesbian, but she protested, pressed her round body and firm tits against me, and gave me a seemingly hungry, very upbeat, and skillful blowjob.

She’d gotten skinny and spooky (with a rainbow dyed mohawk), and lived with a whore I hated, and I’d gotten skinny and spooky (grew my hair out into a stringy white medusa) and lived with a whore she hated

My simultaneous digital explorations of her body were appreciated, or at least not turned away, but Astrid would not settle into a groove that would allow her to enjoy herself, because we were both too fucking high; and yet this giggling impairment presented no real problem because she was great fun to be with.

I was able to enjoy more quality time with Astrid a year later, after we’d both been around the block once or twice, when interestingly she seemed 10 years younger. She’d gotten skinny and spooky (with a rainbow dyed mohawk), and lived with a whore I hated, and I’d gotten skinny and spooky (grew my hair out into a stringy white medusa) and lived with a whore she hated, but I never felt a moment spent with Astrid was wasted. Astrid was a pro or at least wanted to be and she was willing to put in the work, to keep commitments. She was also a stoned junkie crack ho. I believe she will survive. I hope she does.