My Life as a Perverted Piece of Garbage Pt.03
Chapter Two-My Descent into Peversion (continued)
It is the new year. I am still with Midge but not enjoying it. My taste of total depravity with Gwynn is always on my mind whenever I have sex with Midge. Sex with her is getting less frequent but every time I fight the urge to rip the condom off and cover Midge's face with my load. Every single time I do her from behind I bump her asshole "accidentally" with my cock. I can't go there any more. I have started downloading pornography again. I always have a separate, hidden server downloading all hours of every day. I am on track for around a terabyte of filth by the end of the year. I am downloading bondage, BDSM, facials, bukkake and as much anal as I can get, which is a lot. I am downloading faster than I can categorize. I am also getting interested in transsexual pornography but from a heterosexual perspective. Yes, it is homosexual but I cannot stand to see the "guy" suck or get fucked by the transsexual, it disappoints me. The whole point for me is to see lots or anal sex and I do not consciously notice the hot blond with the fake tits has a dick.
I still visit Bill and his strip club. Midge knows that I go there to see naked chicks but at this point as long as it keeps me happy and out of her vagina I think she is fine with it. I do not really go there to see naked chicks. I do not even go there to have sex, and haven't. I go to escape the blandness of sixty plus hours of work, a bitter girlfriend, spoiled (by her) k**s, and mixed sexual feelings. I talk to Midge all the time to see if there was anything I could do to make her happy but it all comes back onto me. We still love each other and seem to want a future together but I don't know if anything is wrong or if this was the way things were meant to be.
Small world. I stopped to get some fast food burritos on my way to Bill's place and guess who was inside the restaurant, Gwynn. She recognized me as I pulled up to get my food. She was still hot but looked like she had aged ten years. She started yelling at me saying I ****d her. That was when her (I'm assuming) boyfriend came shooting out the side door, jumped on my car, then slugged me in the jaw. I floored the car sending him flying then rolled up the windows. The police were there seconds later; apparently they were at the chicken place next door.
Her story was that I ****d her. My story was that I didn't. I was terrified but also strong for some strange reason. I found courage that I had never had before. I said that I met her as a stripper at the club this guy owned, we had consensual sex and it was a one night stand. I was put in the back of the cruiser and in handcuffs. Her boyfriend was put in the back of another cruiser that pulled up shortly thereafter. I stuck to my story.
About a half hour later I was released. The officer asked if I wanted to press assault charges against the boyfriend. I asked if I should for insurance reasons, trying to appeal to a more sensible situation and appear reasonable. The officer said they found methamphetamine and marijuana in their possession. She was claiming it was his and he had a prior so he was off to jail and then would be sentenced to six to twelve months. I figured the guy didn't have insurance and my insurance would have a deductible and I would end up paying for most of the damages. I didn't press charges against either of them.
Hours later I was on the road again. My jaw was sore but I would live. I gave the entire story to Bill. He was amused, and was sympathetic.
My perversion is satisfied so infrequently that when it happens it feels like the best sensation in the world. Maybe that was the way sex was supposed to be. Maybe sex was supposed to be normal most of the time making the perverse, kinky sex more of a treat or reward for doing something right. Maybe anal sex was like having a steak dinner after weeks of macaroni and cheese and ramen noodles. Ejaculating a monster load of thick, gooey semen on her face was the fish and lobster dinner after enduring the bland, un-fulfilling healthy food you were supposed to eat.
One evening she was more frisky than usual. I gave her lots of foreplay and managed to hold off long enough to give her two orgasms. I asked if I could finger her anus. She agreed. Luckily she was clean and loosened up quickly as I massaged lubricant inside her tight hole. I pulled the condom off and then slowly worked myself inside her asshole. It was perfect. I have missed this sensation for so long; the incredible sensation of every inch of her muscular rectum gripping and massaging the length of my cock. The anal sex lasted only five minutes, leaving me happy and spent over the lake of sperm on her back; it looked like genetic spaghetti.
About a month later she felt guilty because I had a wet dream; felt she was not doing her womanly duty by keeping me happy. That part was true. A couple days later she started sucking me off as I lay on my back on the bed. I should have simply enjoyed the blow job and not tried to push my luck. My urges were overwhelming. I wanted to deposit my entire load on her face. It was wrong. It would lead to anger towards me. It would have been taking advantage of a situation. Those reservations began disappearing with each stroke of her lips on my cock. I held up as long as possible knowing she would eventually take my cock out of her mouth and stroke me off when catching her breath. The first big blast went up her face and through her hair, some of it landing in front of my chin. She stopped stroking as the next three squirts found her face. I feigned an apology but my semen and the look of disgust on her face could have been seen from space.
"Fuck you" she muttered as she retreated to behind the bathroom door.
I felt guilty but pleased with myself. It was a nice load and it looked good on her pretty face. Her left eye was probably glued shut as that side of her face took the brunt of my gooey onslaught. My guilt eventually overwhelmed me. I knew she hated that but I did it anyway. Instead of being normal I completely pushed through a boundary of taste, respect and normalcy.
As I fall asl**p, though, I want more.