Photography by Joy Garnett
The COVID-69 series from Evergreen is a modern day Decameron, helping to fight off fear, isolation, boredom, and Puritanism with conscientious and creative depravity. STAY SAFE BUT STAY HUMAN!
COVID-69 is an ongoing series. Please pitch us your coronavirus/quarantine-themed porn at email@example.com
“They won’t hire anyone with Aries in their chart,” my friend says about a job she just interviewed for. “The first question they asked me was my sun, moon, and rising signs. They said Aries can’t be trusted.”
“What the fuck!” I reply. “I’m Aries rising, Virgo sun, Libra Moon.”
“Well, you can’t work for them.”
“Virgo stabilizes Aries. Someone on Quora called it scorched earth.”
It was winter. A year before COVID.
“Where are you?” he texts.
“8th Avenue,” I answer.
“I’m across the street.”
He was standing in the rain. We’d never met. Preppy (Burberry?) neutral colored coat, stiff. He holds the umbrella over both of us as we walk to the subway. In the wine shop he picks out a bottle of red. He’s polite.
At his apartment, in front of his bed. I’m on my knees and there is a mirror behind me, so he can watch. I feel discomfort and the hardness of the wooden floor beneath me. He stands over me in boxers while I take his half erect cock in my mouth. The tip grows along the length of my tongue. He brushes the back of my hair with his fingers. I let his cock drop out of my mouth and onto my breasts so he can fuck my tits. He thrusts, tall above me, shoots his cum onto my chest.
I lay back on a couch in front of the television and tell him to finger me. He leans down over me to tease my nipples with his tongue. He does what I say easily. With his mouth on my nipple and fingers on my clit, my thighs shake and I orgasm. When I leave he hugs me goodbye.
“Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe,” he says.
Crossing the Williamsburg bridge in the back of the car on the way home, I think I can’t believe I just came in that man’s apartment. I think about relationships, about the past year. I think about disappointment.
“Sorry, I can’t do casual.”
“Did you get fucked last night?”
“No, what about you?”
January 23rd, 2020
Wuhan’s on lockdown. Something very strange looms, many of us are in denial.
“Do you think they’ll close the building?” I say to a colleague at work one day.
“Not a chance,” he says. “We’ll be fine.”
Sunday night, alone, bored, lying in bed. I’m swiping on one of the extreme apps.
“Come to my hotel.” It’s that man again.
“We’ve hooked up before,” I respond.
“Last year,” I tell him.
“Mmm those soft tits,” he remembers.
“I’m kind of tired and I don’t feel well,” I reply.
He leaves New York the next day. During the following week his texts become frequent. We trade fantasies. He texts me on Saturday mornings. After Valentine’s Day he texts:
“Did you get fucked last night?”
“No, what about you?
“No, late night Thursday,” he says. “Stroking thinking about you.”
“What are you thinking about?” I reply.
“I want to watch you get fucked,” he texts.
“I’m into that.”
“Mmmm a really big cock.”
“That’s hot,” I say.
“I don’t feel like it,” I say.
“Moody,” he replies.
“No, I have to go to yoga.”
“Just two minutes,” he persists. “Don’t you want to be the center of attention?”
“I want your cock in person.”
“This is the next best thing”
“I want to sit on your face.”
“Mmmmm will you cum in my mouth?” he asks.
“While I finger your asshole?”
He is an Aries. He is manic when I don’t respond fast enough.
“Stroking thinking about you”
“Want those tits and mouth so bad”
Punishes me when I don’t give him the right attention.
“I went out last night to eat another girl’s pussy since you were bad,” he texts.
On my way to work, I laugh out loud on the subway platform. His attempts to make me jealous are deranged but I’m so charmed.
“Not hard to find cheap pussy,” I reply.
“Loll who said anything about cheap?”
“You can do what you like. I’d still worship your cock.”
“Do you deserve it?”
On the train, we exchange texts back and forth. My skin is burning, my face gets hot. Eyes wide, smile psychotic. A woman seated across from me looks unnerved.
“I want you to fuck my mouth,” I say.
“Milk it out of me?”
“Suck it right out of the tip.”
“I have a huge load for you,” he says.
As soon as I find a private bathroom, he calls and I watch him jerk off. He strokes faster. The adrenaline rushing through my veins makes me dizzy.
“Show me those tits.”
I pull my breasts out of my bra. I watch him drain his cock for me from thousands of miles away.
“Did you really eat another girl’s pussy?” I inquire gently.
I like the drama, I need it. I am scorched earth. I crave his attention and when he’s not there I panic. He crosses boundaries and gets defensive. He wants to be adored. I want to be adored. His voice drives me crazy. Aries rising run hot, we are impulsive. Always reacting, losing control, wanting control. I need to cool myself down. In Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Suzuki says,
Even though you try to put people under some control, it is impossible. You cannot do it. The best way to control people is to encourage them to be mischievous. Then they will be in control in its wider sense. To give your sheep or cow a large, spacious meadow is the way to control him. So it is with people: first let them do what they want, and watch them. This is the best policy. To ignore them is not good; that is the worst policy. The second worst is trying to control them. The best one to watch them, just watch them, without trying to control them.
The weekend before New York’s stay-at-home order, I’m at the laundromat. Some people are wearing masks, most are in gloves. I ask the laundry attendant folding clothes if I’m allowed to wash my hands in the out of order bathroom. She shakes her head. Another customer calls me over and pulls a plastic bag out of his pocket to offer me one of his own Lysol wipes.
The streets are empty as I walk back to my apartment. I’ve been alone for months now, maybe almost a year. I’m used to the silence. I send him a text message. He is far away but consistent. I worry that his governor isn’t doing enough to protect him, I worry I will never see him again.
“This is the porn I came to thinking about you,” I share a clip I watched the night before. The title of the video is Stepbrother and Sister Play Weird Game. She is tempting him, her body is similar to mine. Thick thighs, large breasts, brown hair and a pretty face. The “stepbrother” is nerdy and in awe, can’t hide his erection. She lays back on the couch and tells him to fuck her. I slide my fingers inside my pussy imagining him. When he sticks his cock inside her I orgasm.
“Did you use fingers or toys?” he asks.
“Do you have any toys??”
“I have a butt plug.”
“I want to watch you put it in your ass.” He tells me.
“I’m not sure,” I answer.
“No fun… want to help me cum?”
“Show me your pussy,” he texts.
Week 3 of quarantine. We’re in Aries season. I show him my pussy again. I need to fuck him. Pacing around my apartment during the day, I practice yoga at night. I have intense melatonin-laced dreams. The darkness inside him fills me up. I fantasize about what sex will feel like. The pressure, the depth. The first time he sticks his cock inside me will it be missionary or will I be on top? Will he pound fast or slow? Where will he kiss me while we fuck? It’s so far away, the uncertainty is consuming. I want someone to assure me everything will work out.
“I took pics for you,” I tempt him.
I send him three selfies. One with my face and my tits. One on my knees, spread apart, so you can see the curve of my thighs, my fingers stroking my nipples. The third in a light yellow dress, unbuttoned, tits exposed, sitting on the ground with my knees apart stroking my pussy.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. So sexy.” He responds.
I position myself in the chair next to a window and close the curtain enough to still allow in sunlight. I pull the black lace covering my breasts low enough to expose my nipples. I scan the surfaces of my body to make sure I look perfect. The FaceTime ringtone plays and I hear his voice: it’s aggressive and scary.
“Good girl, I didn’t even have to tell you to get your tits out,” he says.
I’m staring at his erect penis, he’s standing in a shower. Always in his shower. Always his cock sitting on my phone screen while he speaks dirty words to me. I lick my lips.
“Spread your legs,” he tells me.
“It makes me so horny when you talk like that,” I tell him.
I open my legs further apart and aim the camera at my pussy.
“I want to feel your mouth on my pussy.”
“Mmmmm,” deep growl. “I want to bite that clit.”
I start rubbing circles around my clit.
I flip the camera back around front and hold my breasts in my arm.
“Push your tits together,” he tells me.
I drop my shoulders and my breasts sway in front of the camera. I begin to bounce my breasts in the air for him.
“Show me where you’re going to take my cum,” he says.
I position my mouth in the frame and stick out my tongue.
He shoves the head of his cock closer to the camera on his phone. Stroking faster.
“You’re going to suck on the tip.”
“I want to watch you cum. Show me how much.”
I begin to pant while staring back at myself on the screen.
“Cum for me now.”
His cum squirts far across the tile of his shower.
“So fucking hot.”
“What a wonderful way to start the morning,” his voice is warm again.
“Haha. Thank you, daddy.” I hang up.
Could there be anything worse? Of course there can. A time of great uncertainty, but so much feels the same. Come here, go away, watch me, give me space, don’t leave, fuck me, love me. Exhale.