Game One

Baseball_(crop)Jennifer was worn beyond words. And since she came more than she could count or even quantify, I assume she didn’t care that I wasn’t going to. After a quick nap she took an uber home. Ten minutes later I was on my Cumslut’s porch, fishing the key out of one of her broken clay pots. When I walked through the door she was watching Game One of the World Series, which was a big deal because she was from Kansas City. She was surprised to see me, but still happy to have a visit from Daddy. I fingered her on the couch for good luck. Then I opened up my pants and pulled it out. Underwear is for chumps. I told her to put my cock in her mouth.

“That’s what good girls do.”

She said she didn’t know, it felt wrong, and I slapped her across the face.

“That’s what good girls do.”

She quickly gobbled it up and said she could taste another girl on me. I forced my cock deep down her throat just to shut her up and reached around her to finger her pussy while I fucked her mouth. It might sound generous but I was still being selfish; I loved the feeling of her cumming with my dick in her mouth – all her muscles tightening, her moans muffled, it always made me feel so powerful. Then I bent her over the couch and squeezed my bare cock in her. She told me to close the shade because she was scared of the frat house neighbors seeing in. I told her to just shut up and take it.

Then I dragged her into the bedroom and pushed her onto the mattress and climbed on top of her and I loved how soft her bed was because it cradled us and pushed us closer together and I thrust myself inside her, with my right hand on her throat and my left hand around her ankle pushing her leg back up by her head and I punished her pussy until she shook and growled and came and came and came and I stopped when I could physically no longer fuck and I told her I wasn’t going to cum and she sucked her juices off my cock and then I got an anatomy lesson when I fisted her and licked her clit, and she said i eat pussy like a lesbian, and she claimed to have the most intense orgasm of her life, and her pussy had something like an otherworldly tongue inside and it undulated and bucked and forced my fist back out, and then I buried my meat inside her again and banged up against her cervix until I just started fucking her with the tip, and my body was cramping and my arms were shaking and my throat was hoarse with empty breaths and that was actually enough to make me cum, like I was hit by a bus and my seed was pulled out of me like some undiscovered law of physics and I groaned and moaned and screamed in her face and I filled my Cumslut up to the brim, and I collapsed next to her, barely touching, exposing as much of my surface area as possible to the cool air, and she hungrily spooned my cum out herself and ate it up, and my balls ached as though they were hungover and she said,

“Daddy, it’s past my bedtime.”

I couldn’t move.

“Oh, Princess, I’m sorry,” I squeezed out between breaths, “I forgive you. I can make an exception this time. It’s past my bedtime too.”

I fucked Jennifer for her. It was a warm up so I could go long enough to give my Cumslut a series of crushing orgasms. And I came out of the bedroom and Game One of the World Series was still going and I took a knee against my will and I almost collapsed and I got up and used her bathroom sink to wash her juices off my junk and it was just the right height to let my balls dangle in the basin, and as I went home of course I went to the Checkers drive-thru and got a couple cheeseburgers and chicken and fries, and when the lady said another bacon cheeseburger would be only thirty-eight more cents I said no thank you, and that’s what I call self control, and I went home to a sack full of brown food and video game violence and coca cola and a bowl and a fistful of raw mustard greens, and I knew exactly where that fist had been, and it was just another Wednesday.


Nothing is Perfect


Jennifer and I finished fucking and it was a long aggressive session, and I took off the cock rings and I stopped recording, and the bed was on fire so I got up and walked into the living room and sat in the lazyboy and tried to expose as much of my surface area as possible to the cool air, and my balls lay on the recliner fabric like a panting dog tongue, and I got a text from this girl asking if I was getting into anything good tonight, and I chuckled with heavy breath, and Miley Cyrus was on Jimmy Fallon and the sound was still off, and she was wearing some sort of rasta k-pop thing,  and I noticed there were shards of viagra still on the tv stand, and I smoked a bowl and reclined naked and tapped an ice cold coke and everything was perfect.

Except it was really a Pepsi because nothing is perfect, and Jennifer came out and said she thought the brownie was starting to work and I told her about the time the frozen acid didn’t kick in until after I fucked my ex girlfriend because there was a single acid paper I was keeping in the freezer and it was there for almost two years and in fact, it moved between two apartments and I just never had the right opportunity to trip, and it was maybe not even enough for one person and I was bored one night and out of pot so I just said fuck it and my girlfriend had been convinced through experience that she couldn’t be affected by LSD anyway on account of her spinal injury, and after an hour or two I didn’t feel anything and I thought whatever and we fucked and then as soon as I came and rolled over I sank into the bed and kept sinking and sinking and sinking and I was sort of locked into a trip for the night and I was sort of an asshole just curled up at the edge of the bed watching a movie with Marlon Waynes and Steven Segal and kept her up all night when she had to work in the morning and I could’ve gone into the living room and I had no pot to even me out and I went to sleep as soon as she blew me and left for work.

Jennifer let out a charming cackle and turned around. She wiggled her butt as she walked back into the bedroom and three breaths later I was on top of her with my right hand around her throat and my left hand pinning down her wrist. Her other hand gripped my forearm, pulling at it with delightful futility. Her legs were wrapped around my waist as best as she could manage while I pushed my fat wood inside her. I let go of her wrist and grabbed a handful of her bouncy, tight, curls, which were slightly slick with coconut oil. I liked when she wore braids but I loved her natural hair; it just felt right, and she smiled when I pulled back on it. I’ve heard many people say you should never mess with a black woman’s hair. Bullshit.

We had just started up again and my cock was sore already, but I kept going, weak and shaking. She was still in pain, no longer bleeding, but each thrust still presented a challenge to her tolerance. She was mine to do with whatever I wished.

This was becoming a familiar scene. They all seemed to love it this way, their free will taken away. With my hand around their throats, they like being deprived of blood flow, air flow. There’s a thrill. I came to the conclusion it’s only enjoyable because they have faith and trust that their breath will come back. Even gasping for air, gurgling, aching inside, it will come back. If I ever feel myself anxious, slipping away into that darkness, the light receding, my breath with it, if I feel the abyss staring back at me, maybe I can accept the same faith and emerge from my panic with a smile on my face the same as they do.