Snorting the last line of cocaine off the Brazilian whore's ass, Dali Cannon whistles and slaps, whistles and slaps. Before he cums, he knows he wants what he needs. She knows he has no money...
Barefoot, he wakes up in prison with a terrible hangover and it smells like urine. Dali remembers everything before the orgasm and does not remember anything after. This was the third day in three days that Dali Cannon had blacked-out. He asks himself, "Am I trying to escape reality?"
The answer is yes. Yes, he was trying to escape the reality he had created for himself. In Dali's world alcohol was water and women were wine. He was always drunk on one and than the other. It was easy to pass off as an innocent and youthful lust for life up until now. Now his good natured ass was in jail. How this happened, Dali had no idea. Images of beer and cigarette smoking on verandas over looking beautiful gardens of weed flashed through his mind in black and white. Fast the vivid scenes of the past few hours played out in Dali's mind. A true ball of confusion greater than Buddha spoke about under the Bodhi tree. Zig Zag papers gathering crumbs of white powder together in a line and clearing the sinuses of an old retired skeptic matched with some Hawaiian pot that was like Maui Wowie mixes with plusultra's free beer and Bacchus' anti - depressant medication...
"That was a very strange dream!"
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