

Gargle, Spit  
Repeat...

© Connor Philips 2015

Welcome to the FUK'd movement.

Never make a decision with a full ball-sack, and fuck the arbitrary concept of projecting reality into fiction. You know what? Fuck the Literary norm.

Gargle, Spit,  
Repeat...  
By  
Connor Philips

Chapter 1

I was a good little whore, mouth opened wide ready to have the thick, veiny cock shoved down my throat. Hand massaging the balls, eyes wide, waiting for the eruption of sperm that was academia to shoot down my throat and out my nostrils.

To be fair he was a good Professor, very enthusiastic. He thoroughly enjoyed his chosen subject, and that just pissed me off. It puts too much pressure on the student. He's up there with a raging hard on and you're just sitting there like, "Don't get it in my eye!"

"The Panopticon," he kept yammering, "is a representation of the form of control democracy took from religion. So," he took a swallow from his soda, I never understood why he didn't just take the swallow before starting a new sentence. "What do you do when a cop is driving behind you?"

It was a sincere question, but everyone had a cock lodged too deeply in their throats to answer. He still waited- looking around as if someone would be capable of pulling the thick, throbbing dick out of their mouths. His eyes settled on mine.

When a teacher looks at me I use a trick to make sure they don't repeat the offense. Mostly because I don't want to answer, but also because it's just fucking fun. I stare back unblinking, no emotion on my face. Mouth half-open, eyes vacant.

For a moment he was trapped, skin crawling, cock softening, and then he finally broke eye contact. "You panic even though you aren't doing anything wrong. You do a mental check to make sure you aren't breaking a law." He lowered his voice and leaned forward, this was the only thing he wanted for us to write on the test, "You punish yourself even though you haven't done anything wrong."

Mind blowing right? Pppfffffbbbbbbttttttttt, with extra spit and some of the leftover cum in my mouth. Yeah, yeah we get it prof- to establish order from chaos you need control. It's all part of society... Astounding teacher though. If I were one for reviews I would give him a good one. Four out of five cocks!

Doodling.... Doodling... Doodling.. Oh look I drew a guy blowing his brains out with a gun that looks an awful lot like a big cock! It's the only way I can ever get through classes.

Praise whichever imaginary friend seems appropriate, he finally wrapped it up.

I'm never in a rush, fuck it I say, but I'm also punctual to the point of always being early. Leaving I have the same motto- just fuck it. Plus, I don't like the whole discussion in the hallways. I don't care what you have to say. I'm trying not to commit suicide myself; I don't need your shit on top of that.

And wouldn't you know it one of the little Cockstains was taking his precious time. He always leaves first, never taking a second to arrange his shit. I know this because I'm always the last to leave. Other than the teacher who has to answer all the fucking texts he received while flapping his labia and queefing. Bzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzz, bzzzzz...

I knew he wanted to talk, and I groaned inwardly. Yay, I just love inane mouth vomit. I tried to take my time but you can only go so slow and still look normal. The little fag even held the door open for me. Still, I respect a man that does that for anyone. It's the sign of a gentleman, but I knew he wanted something thus, he became a fag.

"God man, that test was hard," it was almost laughable at the attempt he made for conversation. I've noticed, depending on the association, people talk about three things when they don't have anything else to say: classmates bitch about class, coworkers bitch about work, and everyone else bitches about the weather. The goddamn weather. We've all done it.

"Yeah man," it's like they make me lie to them. No it wasn't fucking hard! Pull your gelled head out of your lubed-up ass and try listening to the fucking professor. A tape recorder is a better student than most actual students. A fucking little toy. A new-age version of spinning gears.

"I barely made a B." Why the fuck did he think I cared? "What did you make?" Why didn't he just fucking ask his question?

"Yeah me too," I lied again. On and on he went, dumbass question after question. Down the hall to the stairs and down three flights. There's nothing like watching two nice thick and tanned thighs in tight shorts descend stairs. Well, maybe ascending would be better. I watched her ass shift left to right, I thought it would cause a tsunami on some oriental island, and I was okay with that. Seemed like a fair trade.

Oh yeah, I guess now is the time I should interject into the story to describe myself. That way you can picture me and all that shit. But are you really going to remember? Fuck no. I'm a walking asshole farting into the wind. It doesn't matter, I'm really just a voice to you. To hell with the literary norm.

The ass disappeared out the door about the time he quit talking about the weather. Always the fucking weather. "So," I opened the door for him, the reach around, and tried to get him to the fucking point. "Which way you headed?"

"Oh," he pointed the same way I was going, "I'm up in the campus lot."

I couldn't even hide the smile as I pointed in the opposite direction, "I'm that way man." I'm such a fucking pussy, I could see his face drop and it reached some recess of the nitrogen crystal that was my heart. "Just text me later and we'll chill." There was that smile on his pretty face that just screamed cover me in cum. I have to admit, it did make me feel better about departing.

Great, now he was going to text me. I could make up some excuse to not hang out, but I would still have to talk to him. It was either that or having another torturous conversation. I much preferred texting.

As if on cue, my phone started vibrating- another groan. At least until I saw who it was, Erica. I'm on really good terms with all my exes, at least we still fuck, but Erica was the only one that I actually considered a friend. She was like a sister. Without the whole blood relation, and we still fucked once in a while. But other than that she was like a sister.

"What do you want?" See your real friends you can be an asshole to and get straight to the point.

"WahhE Ahhh Ahhhh," great she was fucking crying. Who's drunk at 2:00 in the afternoon? I knew she was drunk because that was the only time she could ever show emotion, much less cry. We were just a match made in heaven.

"Stop it!" I was a complete gentleman, "I can't understand you when you cry. Now calm the fuck down, and then speak."

I crossed half the campus before she was able to stop crying, at least to get to a point where she was intelligible. "H-he," great her boyfriend did something stupid again, "hit m-me!"

My heart exploded, fire raced through my veins, I felt myself shaking. My voice was a growl, "Where are you?"
Chapter 2

They say you shouldn't drive drunk or under the influence of any other drug; well, I think you shouldn't drive when you're angry. Gas pedal pressed as far as it would go, RPMs never going under 2,000. Changing lanes erratically: left, right and even the suicide wasn't off limits. I wasn't even paying attention, just straight tunnel vision.

I covered twelve miles in about seven minutes, didn't even turn off the engine or close my door. A cul-de-sac lined with loft apartments. A landowners dream in a college town rife with spoiled northerners.

"You need to breath. Gotta be calm," Henry said on my right. It didn't even startle me anymore when he just showed up. Even if it did my tunnel vision would have dulled the surprise.

"I know, I know. Just fuck off okay," I really wasn't in the mood for his shit, but I knew he was the right. Long deep breaths, I could feel it working- slightly. Enough that I had my wits about me as I stood in front of the door. I wanted to kick it down, but reason prevailed and I knocked. Firmly but controlled.

"So," Henry lit a cigarette and leaned his shoulder against the side wall, "what you gonna do?" Fuck if I knew and he knew that. He took a deep pull and expelled a cloud of thick smoke, "You can't go in there halfcocked."

"Fuck off Henry. I don't need your shit today." I really didn't, it was hard enough to calm myself without him pushing my buttons.

He shrugged and shifted so his back was against the wall clearly displaying the bullet hole in the side of his head. A piece of hanging skin and shattered skull flapped as he spoke, "She's always getting into trouble isn't she?"

I knocked again, "Yeah. She's dumb like that."

"Lucky she has you huh?" I wanted to smack the fucking smirk off his goddamn face.

He was saved by the door finally being snatched open, "What the fuck do you want?" God her boyfriend was charming.

My fist clenched involuntarily, but I kept my temper under control, "Where's Erica?"

His face twisted as if he was about to spit, "She doesn't want to talk to you." Good old Skeletor Mike, always equipped with a comeback. I hated all of Erica's boyfriends, but this guy just pissed me off on a personal level. Fucking pretty boy fag with a big mouth and tiny balls. Tall and lanky, that kind of skinny that made you look ripped even if you didn't work out. A walking erection spewing douchey cum. How's that for character description?

"Ooh, he's scary," Henry said with a lisp.

I ignored him, "Look Mike, I really don't give a fuck. Just let me speak to her."

I could smell the alcohol on his breath, "If you don't leave I'm calling the fucking cops." He attempted to slam the door shut, and I just held out my arm. The impact stung against my palm, but I'm a fucking man so whatever.

"Let's call the cops then," I'll call his fucking bluff. Pussy-ass wannabe drug dealer. I knew he didn't want any cops sniffing in his shit. They'd probably find oodles and oodles of gay porn.

"Look mother-fucker," I could see him snap, and the retard stepped out towards me. His stick like arms reaching for me, like one of those inflatable tube men. I felt them touch my shoulders...

"Oh," Henry was laughing, "he fucked up." Indeed he did. I'm average height, but I'm 195 pounds. Pull-up fucking champion and boxing expert. As long as I don't come up on a real expert.

He stepped towards me so I stepped right into him. I felt it, the darkness. Shadows narrowed my vision and I saw his tiny fucking throat highlighted in red. Like a bullseye calling me. Years of boxing with weighted gloves had made me fast. Really fucking fast.

Fighting is simple, you just need to kill your opponent or at least render him incapable. No sense in punching someone repeatedly, or kicking or any other shit. Just go for the throat. Like a feral wolf.

His throat was thin, and his windpipe was even thinner. Right at the top of a person's neck under their chin is everyone's weak spot. It only takes two fingers, thumb and forefinger. Wrap them around and squeeze until they meet. It takes about seven seconds and you're done. Like popping a fucking balloon.

I knew what he was feeling, I had been there myself. First it's shock, you can't breathe, and then it's panic, you realize you can't do a fucking thing. His eyes bulged like a fucking cartoon and I watched purple sweep across his face. I spoke through clenched teeth spit hitting his terrified face, "If you ever lay hands on me again I'll rip out your fucking throat." I squeezed a little tighter just to let him know I could. Five seconds and I felt him go slack, his futile slaps ceasing. I let go. Like a faulty tower of Jenga-blocks he crumpled to the ground.

FLOOMP!

Henry knelt down beside Mike's comatose body, "Serves him right." He looked up at me and smiled, a trail of blood dripping down his lip, "I think you killed him."

I clenched my hand over and over again, I could still feel the flow of life. A life that I could have easily taken, "Check him then."

His pulse was steady and there was air coming from his wide open mouth. Henry flicked his ashes into Mike's mouth, "He's fine. Damn," he squashed his cigarette on Mike's forehead and stood up, "I was hoping for some more company."

"Matt?" My head jerked up hearing Erica call my name. Even drunk and strained from crying it was still beautiful.

"Erica," I stepped over Skeletor's body and made my way to her, "are you okay?"

She rushed to my arms, so soft, she always fit so perfectly. Beneath the alcohol I could smell the succulence that was her. She looked up at me from in between my arms, deep brown eyes glistening with tears, "I am now."

****

It pisses me off when bitches cry; I don't know what to do. I'm completely helpless, and that's what pisses me off. She cried the entire ride back to my apartment. A shitty little hovel in a run-down apartment complex, but it was my home.

I half-carried her inside, gave her a bottle of water, and she kept bawling. "He's such an asshole!" I completely agreed. "I'm never going back. He's so fucking mean. He--"

"God," Henry lit another cigarette, "she just doesn't shut the fuck up. Just wah this and wah that."

"Shut the fuck up Henry. Don't be an ass," it felt so nice to have her in my arms even if she was crying. I didn't want him ruining it.

"Yeah, yeah," he flipped me off, "I forgot. You're a fucking queer in love." I just ignored him. "Why don't you quit pussy-footing around it and tell her already. Oh that's right, you're a fucking fag."

Erica looked up from my chest, tears trickling down her face, "Do you know what that's like?"

Fuck! I hadn't been paying attention, "What, what's like?"

"To watch your father slowly waste away." When the fuck did she get on this subject? Fucking drunk bitches just want to cry. "To take care of him and watch him slowly die. His mind wasting away. Can you imagine what it's like to watch your father die?"

Oh no! My heart stopped and ice shot through my veins. Why the fuck did she have to bring this up? I shook my head trying to shake the icy feeling. Then I heard it, the sloshing and bubbling.

"Yes Matt," the voice came with a gurgle of liquid. "What is it like?" I didn't want to look, I knew what stood there. Not a who, but a what. "To watch your father die slowly." Henry had been replaced by the face of my father. Still in his swim trunks, grey skin, and glistening with thick droplets of pool-water. Water flowed from his mouth as he spoke, garbling his speech, "Tell her. Tell her what it's like."

No, no, no. Fucking no!

I couldn't take my eyes off of him, the rest of the world darkening. "Go ahead Matt. Tell her."

I knew the wrinkled bastard would never go away. Henry I could manage, but my father was the worst. Self-indulgent alcoholic bastard. Piece of shit cum-guzzler.

"Did you watch Matt? Did you watch me drown?" He started screaming, "Did you just sit there and do nothing? You helpless little bitch!"

"I-I was four." My voice was a whisper, "I couldn't even swim."

"Oh," a stream of water exploded from his mouth, "but you could talk. You could walk. You could have gotten someone. Someone that wasn't a giant pussy like you!"

I felt reality slipping, sliding through the pungent odor of shit. Erica's voice was a high pitch squeal in my ear, my father's voice a dull hum. I didn't know if I was shaking or she was. I couldn't handle all the noise. Only one thing ever made the voice go away. I kissed her mid-speech.

She was drunk and vulnerable, but all girls are sluts and I needed to pursue my own advantage. Plus, she would have fucked me anyway. She kissed me back and I forgot the world. Forgot the pain of the past; forgot the voice of my misdeed.

God her tongue was soft. I hate it when a girl uses too much tongue or too little, and she always used the right amount. "Yeah fuck me away you piece of shit!" His voice was still making it through.

I stood up and bent her over the couch, I had to get rid of the voices. She squealed with surprise, delighted surprise. Yanking down her shorts and panties I unzipped my pants. "Oh you're a big fucking man now. Where was that when I was dying?" I wanted to scream, it was too much. I spit on my dick for lube and slammed it home. I had to fuck the voices away.
Chapter 3

If you have ever waited tables before you know the golden rule: the customer is stupid, and that's your responsibility. Now, there are plenty of good customers. Good normal people that are just fucking hungry. Then you have the assholes- the ones who want you to serve them like they are paying thirty dollars a plate when they are only paying ten.

"Ohashi taka nay soun." Is he Japanese? No, but he's in an American-style Japanese restaurant and I'm white as shit. Obviously, speaking in false Japanese is a must, and in no way offensive.

"Ok," I know how to deal with assholes like him, it happens a lot. "The steamed octopus with seaweed," I pretend to write it down-- another doodle-- and turn my attention to the next guy at the table, "and what would you like?" The asshole is speechless, he thinks he actually spoke Japanese. The stupid are so fucking dumb.

By the time the other guy had finished ordering the asshole had recovered, "Wait. I want to change my order."

"Ok," I pretend to scratch out my doodle, "what do you want?" That's what waiters have to deal with. Dumb shits who think they're funny and don't realize we have ten different things to do. All of which their puerile nonsense is keeping us from.

We are all whores. Everything we do is just one exercise or another in some form of sodomy. You're either taking or giving it in the mouth, or bent over sobbing into a pillow. Social discipline manifested internally. All that bullshit. Just take the shot in the mouth and get payed little slut.

VIBBBB, VIBBBBB.

At least Erica could make me smile, I knew it was her. Still, I had shit to do. The tidal wave of spoiled bitches was a coming. Dumb cunt after dumb cunt. Doodle after doodle. You know what I fucking hate? When you ask someone an "OR" question and they say yes or no. Fucking disrespectful. It either means they are stupid, which is already established, or they just weren't fucking listening. Always pay attention to your waiter- unless you're not hungry.

Once I was finished slutting it up for a few bucks I checked my phone. It was from Erica! A smile swept across my face, and just as quickly plummeted.

Erica\- <He wants to say sorry>

What the fuck? The dumb bitch went back? Apparently some sluts just like being beat. I took a breath before responding.

Matt\- <Hey, after he kisses you ask him how my dick tastes>

****

"Whiskey, neat. Crown or better, Woodford Reserve if you have it please."

"And a beer," of course Henry had to chime in.

"And a beer," I added, sliding a twenty across the bar counter. She smiled, but I was only looking at her sweet tits. Every other bar in this town uses men. I never understood that. Especially seeing as how men are always buying the drinks. Feminism only goes so far.

"God I'm glad you're here," Henry said lighting a cigarette. "I've been trying to get her attention for hours now."

"Mmmm," it wasn't so much an answer to him as an appreciation for the bartender. She had to bend over to grab a glass, and her ass was just as nice as her tits.

"Heard about Erica." Why did he have to bring that up? "Dumb bitches."

"Keep the change," I gave her one of my special smiles. I couldn't remember if I had fucked her or not. "Yeah her fucking slut mentality," I took a sip and grimaced. "Next time I'm just going to leave her ass."

"Yep," when Henry nodded the skin on the side of his head flapped along. It was quite comical. "I've been saying that for months now. You need to just get over her. Fuck a new girl. Look at that piece of pie over there." I followed his pointing finger and laughed.

Your basic bar has a normal break down. Or rather, the slut-field has its typical divides. You have the bros circling the bar for easier access to booze, and to prey on any girl that happens to walk in. The roaming sluts that flit from table to table taking free drinks, like flies buzzing around shit.

The cloud of smoke that surrounds the stoner table, not sure if it's cigarettes or pot. They pretty much don't give a shit about anything. The exploding table that is packed with so many occupants multiple chairs have been pulled up. Effectively portraying their assholish nature by completely blocking the flow.

The lonely losers, sets of both girls and guys. All clumped based on gender. The guys are too much of a pussy to foray into the whore floor, and the girls are too ugly to have any one at their table. The glee club, typically a mixture of homosexuals that just want to dance and scream at the top of their lungs.

And then you have the whine-o's. Too drunk to do anything but cry and vomit. There's always at least one and she hangs out by the bathrooms waiting for her next hurl, or victim. Grabbing the next full bladder that walks by and spilling their imaginary problems. Or giving out blowjobs.

"People just can't handle their alcohol."

"People just can't handle themselves," Henry sipped at his beer. "It's all an excuse. Give them orange juice and tell them it has vodka in it and eventually they will all get drunk. Like fucking Jesus. He didn't turn water into wine, he just told them he did. Greatest fucking con artist ever."

If you ever talk to someone that's dead about religion, don't. They are pretty pissed off about it all. The whiskey was good though, "So everyone else is just stupid?"

"Yep," again more skin flapping. "Like Erica." Why the fuck did he have to turn it back around? "I bet he duped her into forgiving him, and she believed it. Because she wants to. Women like getting smacked a little. Reminds them of when daddy used to spank their tight little asses."

"You've got fucking problems." I tossed the rest of my whiskey back, "I'll talk to you later."

"Where are you going?" He almost seemed offended.

I pointed towards the bathrooms, "I'm gonna try out the new blowjob machine."
Chapter 4

There I was- a little six year old sniveling bitch. Smiling wide and innocent like a choir boy waiting for the glorious cock of Jesus himself. Or the priest. Whichever holy semen I could bathe in.

My first foray into the homoerotic extent of sharing a bed with another boy. The sleepover as it is typically referred to. Well, it's not exactly sexual at that age, but just one erection and an open asshole away.

It was a modest house: lawn, garage, and all the other bullshit that screams I quit getting laid. I gave my mother a kiss goodbye like a good little bitch, and ran towards the house. Towards the promise of unbridled friendship. Towards the curse.

What do six year olds do for fun? Stupid shit. Just utter dumbassery. Nothing any amount of drugs could ever make you do again. The ignorance of sex is really dumb. Imagination exploration, I'd much rather explore the nipples of a hot piece of ass. Did you know after thumping your nipple it gets hard within seven seconds?

How the fuck do kids even get that dirty? Dumbassery that's how. It's strange how acceptable it is for kids to take baths together. Wonder when that stops? Probably about the time boobs start to grow. Or erections start for the homosexual.

We were telling secrets under the covers, lies all lies. You lie constantly at that age. You know you're lying, and yet for some reason you think the other person is telling the truth. Kids are fucking dumb.

"Hey Matt?"

"Yeah Henry?"

He wanted to show me something cool. Realization, and I want to scream. No, no, no! Fucking no! Please no! My bitch-ass said yes. I watched him walk away and return shortly with something in his hands. No!

"Check this out Matt." It's so heavy in my hands. I trailed my fingers along the handle. Up and up. Up to the trigger.

BAM!

****

CRASH!

I'm still a little bitch as a pseudo-adult. Drenched in sweat, heart pounding, tears leaking like a pussy. Might as well put on a dress and heels. I should have been used to the dream; the memory. Instead I was bawling like a bitch on the rag.

"Fuck!"

I groaned, wiping the trails of salty pussiness off my face, and got up. I knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep, and who the fuck was in my house. I felt like a fucking zombie, stumbling through my own house feeling completely empty. I entered the kitchen and found the origin of the clamor, "What are you doing?"

"Heeeep," CRASH! Another broken glass on my floor. "Oh Matt," my mom clenched her hand to her chest. "You scared me."

Shitty kitchen, shit-stains and coffee grounds. I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, "You didn't answer my question."

She held up a half-full bottle of whiskey, the one I had just bought, "I couldn't sleep. Want a glass?" Yeah just drink all my shit you alcoholic bitch. I nodded. She grabbed two glasses, without breaking any, and side-stepped over the shattered glass.

The golden liquid flowed, or whatever shit you want to say about it. It gets you fucked up and that's all that matters. Still, I stared into the liquid- nice and warm. I enjoy a nice warm whiskey. It makes you feel like a man. Plus I'm Irish. Or at least raised to be.

"It's that bitch again isn't it?"

"Mom!" Erica may be a bitch, but my mom was The Uber-Bitch.

She shrugged pouring her own glass, "I never liked her."

"That really doesn't matter does it?"

She swirled her whiskey around like a pretentious connoisseur, "She's going to be the death of you." I stared at her imagining bolts of lightning twisting her body into blood-frothing convulsions. "Fine," she rolled her eyes, I wanted to knock them the fuck out. "What is it this time?"

How do you tell your mom that you're addicted to a girl who cums from giving blowjobs? Whose tits are hypnotizing while they bounce? Whose screams sound like a torture victim's? Who just moans when you call her a dirty whore? "Same shit. She jumps dick like it's the fucking Titanic."

"Told you she's a bitch," she met my eyes with a resolve as if saying, Do something nigga!

I finished my glass, she refilled it, damn I love whiskey! "I know. I guess I'm just attracted to bitches. The whole Oedipal complex and all that shit."

"Fuck you," she laughed though. "Look Matt. I've told you this a million times, but you're too fucking dumb to get it. She will never stay with you because you're never going anywhere."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Women like sales." Just like a clunge to break it down into shopping. "Especially clearance sales. Because they are going to be gone. Nothing gets a bitch wet like a going out of business sale."

"You're a cunt."

"Yes I am."

VIBBBBB, VIBBBBB.

I checked my phone already knowing who it was. Only Erica would text me this late at night. Like a fucking virgin school boy my hand flew to answer. My mom's hand slammed down on my arm. "Don't." Her voice was serious, the perfect blend of matriarch and PMSing bitch. "Be the sale not the Walmart fucking guarantee." I felt the warmth of liquid and looked down. The slashes from her wrist to elbow were seeping black blood.
Chapter 5

I wasn't a good whore. No gaping mouth or spread ass-cheeks. Hungover and miserable. Waiting for the John that was my teacher and the nonconsensual sodomy that would accompany her arrival. Always late, and always loud. So fucking loud.

I felt like I had been skull-fucked the night before. Satan's own massive, thorny cock. Thrust down my throat, gagging me until it was finally ripped forth and gushed like a fucking geyser. Covering me in thick hell mucus. Saturating my eyes so they still felt glued together.

There's a story I heard once about a college's dorm. Prestigious college mind you, football and plenty of Asians. The plumbing fucked up and they had to replace it all. When they found out the cause they ended up charging the students. Apparently, cum mixes with water and forms a cement-like substance in the drain.

"Morning class! Who got fucked last night?" If a teacher said that I don't know if they would be fired or applauded. Instead it was Henry bursting through the door dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and nothing else. Nice cock though.

He marched down the aisle addressing the students as if they could hear him. "Today I'm going to teach you bitches how to properly suck a dick. Hands and mouth. Hands and mouth." He paced continuing his rant, arms behind his back cock swinging as he walked. He had some good points though. Bitches do need to learn the proper technique. Hands, mouth and teeth.

"Good morning class, how is everyone?" Now the teacher walked in. Like a fucking herd of sheep the rape victims answered in unison. Apparently everyone was doing well. I would love to just see one stand up yelling, "Fucking terrible," and blow their brains out. Wonder how the sheep would handle that. Bleat with fear and turn to their Pimp of a God for guidance.

"First," Yay that means something's next! "I'm going to give you all back your tests, and we'll go over them. Together, as a group." BAAAAH BAHHHHH!

"God," the only time Henry didn't smoke was when he came to my classroom, "she looks like she needs a good fucking. Just some nice pounding and choking." To enunciate his pronouncement he humped the desk. He was quite good. Hip swivel and everything.

"I don't think a 68 is funny Matt." Great! I just had to laugh when she was dropping off my essay. She fucking hated me. I'm pretty sure she wanted to fuck me. "D's are serious young man."

"Yeah," Henry spoke up, "seriously wreck that pussy." I watched her back away slowly like I had the Herp. Nobody ever understands my humor, or why I randomly laugh...

She recovered nicely and dawned her priest's garb to commence the sermon. "All praise the holy cock of God. Give thanks to have him fuck you. Let us all willingly go to the slaughter. Rape is divine." Durrrrrrrrrrrr!

Really she was going over the assignment, an essay over the cause of the First World War. I don't see how I even got a D. Obviously she was fucking retarded. Oh that's right, she believed in morality and ethics- not truth. The fact that they sauntered to the Marne as if it would be a nice cookout. A simple show of prowess like the 19th century, and everyone would go home happy. Because with our advancement of civilization we had advanced our humanity right? Yeah, the human condition of being egregious pieces of shit. More people died in that first battle then every American war, other than the Civil War, put together. Civilized technology doesn't make one moral. It merely makes one better at destroying each other. Whatever, take the stick out of your ass and cook some bacon or some shit you damn hippy.

VIBBBB VIBBBBBBB!

Fucking loser-ass Cockstain texting some trivial shit, "What's up man?" The most useless waste of fucking time. Nobody really cares what or how you're doing. They just want something. So get to the fucking point.

"Not Erica huh?" Henry's breath always smelled like cigarettes and decay.

"What makes you say that?" Fucking asshole.

He hopped on top of my desk crossing his bare legs, generous cock flipping over his thigh. It stared at me. "Because you reached for it like the giant pussy you are. Then your face twisted like someone shit in your mouth."

"Fuck you!"

"No thanks," he hopped down and started doing jumping jacks, cock flying up and down. "Bet Erica's fucking him right now. Begging him to cover her in sperm."

It's hard to ignore a big flopping cock two feet away from your face, but I tried. The teacher spewing green chunky vomit like a demon-possessed bitch. The sheep scurrying to and fro lapping at her feet. Sucking down the bile waiting for their chance to regurgitate it.

"Don't be such a pussy," he finally stopped jumping and decided to do a few squats, wide-legged of course. "Listen to your mom. She's a cunt but she knows the psyche of the vagina."

The students bathed in the filth. Swimming and diving, a fucking vulgar orgy. Tossing chunky bits of vomit into the air to rain on their heads once more. Mouths wide, snapping at each half-digested piece.

"Such a fucking pussy," I could feel his pungent breath on the back of my neck. In my ear, "What would your father say?"

Fuck! No! Just Goddamn fucking no!

I could feel it, the world shaking, the darkness closing in. The chill, the fucking freezing chill. I could hear it. The BLOOOB BLOOOB of his dying breaths.

FUCKKKKKKK!!!!!

I couldn't let it take me again, the dread of rotten flesh and stale water. I searched frantically for anything: face, tits, ass, legs. Fucking nothing! Skinny bitches and underdeveloped bodies. Scouring like a crackhead combing the carpet I found something. A pair of crossed legs, foot arched, flip flop dangling, cute blue nail polish on adorable toes.

BLOOOB BLOOOOB

I grabbed my cock through my pants stroking, concentrating on the foot pop. Up and down in unison my hand glided. Stiffening, deafening the ominous bubbling. Faster, faster, tightening, up and down up and down. My body tightened from head to toe and I curled like frying bacon, exploding.

"UUUUHHHHHHHHH-OOOOHHHHHHHHHHH..."

"Matt?" I looked up at the teacher feeling the cum soaking my pants. "Are you okay?"

****

Nothing like running around for six hours waiting on pretentious ass-hats in cum-soaked undies to put life in perspective. It's exactly what prostitutes feel like. Serving up hot steaming piles of tube-steak.

KUSO ROKUDENASHI!

Your feet are shattered after working a shift. Even if you have shoe condoms made by a professional podiatrist. It fucking sucks, and everyone's a god-damn critique.

"I'm not trying to be mean." Oh, but he was about to be. Why do people think a statement like that entitles them to be a super douche? Like a disclaimer. If you are under 18 years of age please do not click ENTER! Yeah that fucking works. "But you are the worst waiter I've ever had." I'm not your goddamn mom teaching you how to masturbate.

He decides to give me constructive criticism. YAY! That's just what I want. To learn how to be a better waiter. Because that's exactly what I want my career to be. Did your drink stay full? Did you get your food hot and quick? Did I not dick-slap you for being a cum-guzzling fucktard? Everybody thinks they're at Burger King or a five star restaurant.

That's what you want to say, but instead you curl your tail between your legs and spit shine their shoes. "I apologize sir. I'll remember that." Want a fucking rimjob too while you're shitting on me? What if I had of said, "I'm not trying to be mean, but you're a fat-ass douchebag that needs to be locked up outside in stocks with a bucket full of condoms next to you so everyone can ass-rape you until cum bursts from your mouth"-- would that still be okay? There's a fucking disclaimer right?

There's always one. The one narcissistic butt-muncher that can't see the restaurant is busy and you're understaffed. Fuck the other ten tables you have, what about me? Me, me, me, me, me....

I never understood why it's postal workers that go on killing rampages. Servers hate people so much more. Oh, you start all nice and innocent, but then misanthropy sets in. It's not even a cynical attitude, just having to wipe so much shit off your head from pretentious faggots.

So yeah, that's why I drink. Well, that's why I was drinking that night. A bottle of good whiskey, finished the other one the night before, and sifting through the shit on television. One whore spectacle after another. Porn is the only honest media there is. No censorship or propaganda to distract from the hideous nature of human convorting. At least you get a cumshot with porn.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.  
Who is that?  
Scratching, howling at my door-  
A dumb cunt?  
Stupid bitch; insipid whore...
Chapter 6

Smoke twisted in the air telling the story of the three sexes. Ripped apart, cursed to roam aimlessly in search of their other half. Homo and Hetero mere words. Humanity reduced to lumps of hideous flesh. Beautiful lumps melding together into convulsing screams of agonized pleasure.

It was the quotable moment when the world was an image of perfection. Her juices drying slowly on my cock, her erect nipple under my finger. The adhesive feel of dried cum on her wonderful tits. That pretty much describes Erica for you- the perfect pair of tits.

"Look," Erica's voice broke my revelry, she could fuck but she never shut the hell up. Big fucking mouth, good for blowjobs. "I came here to talk."

"Really?" Her naked body sticky with sweat belied her statement.

"Yes really. It's about Mike."

"Oh Skeletor?" I had to crush my cigarette so I wouldn't get too foul of a taste in my mouth. Kissing her was enough tasting his dick, now I was getting his ass. Or taint.

"Shut up," she pretended to scoff and shit, but I saw her tits shake with laughter. "He wants to tell you he's sorry and explain."

"Don't care."

"Matt!" She raised up to get all serious and shit, but it's hard to concentrate when D-cups are swinging right in front of your face. Her nipples were divine, a blend of reddish pink and brown. Like chocolate covered strawberries. "It was an accident. Someone spiked our drinks. We have never been that drunk."

The dumb bitch actually sounded like she believed her own fucking words. "Who the fuck would want to spike his drink? You're not that dumb."

"We were sharing a pitcher." Typically she gets all vaginally pissy when I call her dumb. She was really trying her best.

"Do you know how much it would take to spike a pitcher? That would be a waste of money." Logic only works on people that want to believe. It's funny, if two people argue about a subject and neither one concedes you only call the one you disagree with stubborn.

"Seriously Matt. I would really like it if you two would get along."

"Nope." It takes about a minute of silence before you feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck like you're in a horror movie. Painfully, I tore my eyes away from her heaving breasts and actually looked at her face. You can always tell a bitch by the eyes. Cold and emotionless except for anger. Like they were born with their pussy lips sewn together. "What?"

"You're my best friend Matt, and he's my boyfriend. You two need to get along. We already fight because I hang out with you- he thinks we're fucking."

Hypocrisy at its best. A self-righteous slut. "But we are fucking."

Whore logic activate, I swear she has DBS (Dumb Bitch Syndrome). She waved her hand like a self-denying cunt, "That's beside the point."

"Why are you so concerned that we be amiable to each other?" Yeah why was she? Plenty of fucktards she dated before never mattered.

"Don't use big words. This one matters Matt."

"Don't give me arbitrary bullshit Erica. Why?"

I have watched her shit in the bushes and wipe with leaves before, but I had never seen the look of shame that crossed her face. "Because we are getting married."

"Well stick a shotgun up my ass and blow my brains out...Like really?" Just shove it deep and pull the fucking trigger.

"Yes really. And I don't want it to ruin what we have."

Fucking slut. "All we have is sex Erica. You say you're my best friend but all we do is fuck."

"Exactly. And I don't want to fuck that up." Spoken from the herpes laden whore's mouth. "Just because I'm married doesn't mean we have to quit fucking."

"Yes it does Erica. That's the only reason two people get married. They turn to each other and realize that's the best they're going to do, and if they don't already have STD's, they don't want them. All marriage means is 'I promise, I won't fuck anybody else.' It even says it in the vows."

"It's not in the vows."

"Well it should be. That and 'I promise I'll never make you have anal sex with me again'."

She laughed and I was pretty sure that's why she stayed. That and my dick. Leaning in she kissed my neck, my cock jerked, "Well, it's okay to break a few vows."

She trailed down my body, each kiss sending waves of fire, my cock growing harder with each touch of her luscious lips. "You're going to hell for being a whore," I groaned.

Her hand wrapped around my dick and I felt it surge. There's nothing more beautiful than a hot naked bitch staring up at you from your cock with an open mouth. She kissed the tip and smiled, "Why would I want to go to heaven? You can't suck dick there."
Chapter 7

They encircled me staring and judging. Silent statues of doom. Cold and distant. But fuck it. Someone said shit like this helped. "Hello. My name is Matt and I'm..." I'm a what? I don't know if I'm an addict or what. I could only be honest. "I'm fucked up."

"I met her in a bar, deep in drink. Her beauty shun through my inebriation. A perfect visage of beauty and the tits to match. See I'm a tit man. Well, I'm also an ass, leg, and anything I can stick my dick into kind of guy. If it jiggles wiggles and giggles I'll give it a spin." I was already drunk, and that made me honest.

"I made her buy me a drink. I don't believe in buying bitches drinks. Call it a waste of money or a cry for feminism. Whatever helps you look at me without hurling. I made her laugh and she made me hard. I told her she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She told me she loved sucking dick. Well with a declaration like that I really didn't have a choice. I took her home.

"A shot for the road, and a twenty dollar taxi ride home. Fucking gougers. During the day it's ten tops, but after a few drinks they double their price. Goddamn vehicular rapists.

"As soon as we walked through the door we turned into animals. Just fucking morphed right across the threshold. Tongues down throat, fingers up holes. It wasn't long until she made good on her confession. God could she suck a dick. I mean just perfect. Two hands, tongue and teeth, and just general enthusiasm that can't be taught." I couldn't help but laugh remembering it.

"The sex was amazing, but it was so much more. When I'm inside of her I feel like a babe in the womb. Returned to my vaginal resting place. Everything is just perfect. She made me cum and stole my heart. It was an automatic psychosis. I never thought I could feel like that. I know it's gay as shit, but I loved her, and won't quit. I need her..."

I turned my bottle of whiskey up and chugged. Breathing heavily I stared at the tombstones surrounding me. "And now the cunt is getting married. Gone. She's fucking gone."

A light flickered amidst the graves, Henry lighting his cigarette, "God you're a pussy. Confessing your love to cold corpses and not the one that matters."

"He's always been like that," my father's soaking corpse spoke from my other side. Liquid spilling, "Giant fucking pussy."

"I told you," my mother just had to chime in. "That bitch was a nuisance. You should have left her alone long ago."

Henry inhaled, a wisp of smoke flowing out the hole in his head, "He was born a pussy. Always has been always will be."

"Fuck that," a flow of brackish liquid spilled from my father's mouth. "He didn't get it from me."

"Me either," my mother held up her arms showing the deep cuts down her wrists flowing blood. "I'm no pussy."

"Fuck all of you!" My face was red and I screamed into the darkness. "I'm not a pussy. I'm a fucking man."

"Then, what are you going to do?" Their voices asked in unison.

I laughed, the whiskey the delusion or just my fucking life twisting my mind. "I'm going to fight. I'm going to fucking fight."

"How?"

I stared at the bottle of whiskey in my hand, the gilded emblem reflecting the stars. "I'm going to make him regret being born."

****

Nothing like waking up in a dew-drenched graveyard to start your morning. Body stiff, neck throbbing, pants crusty with dried cum. It all came back to me. The fucking bitch was getting married!

I knew what I had to do. Had to make a plan. I didn't want him dead, but I wanted to make him suffer. Death was a fucking blessing. I didn't know exactly what I was going to do, but I knew my endgame. Erica. Her beautiful tits and soft lips. I had her body, but I wanted her soul.
Chapter 8

I looked exactly how fucking terrible I felt. Still drunk, but that drunk that you know if you don't get another beer you'll receive a heinous hangover. Dirt and grass staining my day old clothes. Typically I try to stay showered and clean. You never know when a girl will be kind enough to bless you with spread legs, and you really can't expect head with a dirty dick. No bitch likes stank dick or at least if they do, it's not a bitch you want to enter.

I was late, looking like Satan just shit me out a minute ago, and every-fucking-body else was waiting to judge me. No matter the situation always own it. Back straight and head held high. Yeah I know I smell like booze and shit little sorority bitch, but at least I don't reek of a yeast infection you fucking herpes-slinger. Fuck you, fuck you, and especially fuck you teach- extra hard up the ass until you're spouting blood and pus.

The professor gave me a snarky look. Little bitch. He already fucked up the first week of class pushing the start time ahead by fifteen minutes. After that people got the feeling he was extra cool, and by cool I mean a transcendental pussy. Now, every time someone walks in late he doesn't say shit, but you can see it in his eyes- he wants to. Remember folks, you do something once you have to keep it up.

Yay- fucking retard discussion day! Let me tell you all about philosophy kids: a long time ago some pretentious bastard decided religion was hokum, so he created philosophy. That way he could judge people as inferior while not actually doing anything himself. The ultimate extent into laziness. Why work in the fields when you can contemplate the meaning of life. Let me save you years of contemplation- it's about getting your dick wet. That's it. Millions of wordy tombs all circumventing the inevitable ejaculatory desire. Fucking poofs...

That day I drew a headless woman strung upside down over a burning candle. Not bad if I do say so myself. I even used shadows and shit.

And the fucking Cumstain was waiting to leave with me again. I was just praying to Jeebus that I would finally get to find out what the hell he wanted. Like a god damn mystery show. Everyone always seeks their own advantage. Learned that in philosophy. Thanks teach.

"Hey man." I swear I hate salutations. They are the most useless form of expression. Just whip your fucking dick out.

"Hey." See? He even made me say it.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you."

Because obviously we weren't talking, just an out of body experience that I found extremely painful. A war was raging inside of me. On one hand I really didn't feel like putting up with any shit, and on the other I was just fucking curious. "Yeah, what's up?"

He looked around... He fucking looked around! What, was he about to tell me a fucking black joke or something? Chances are if you don't want someone overhearing what you're going to say- don't fucking say it. "It's just," he didn't even meet my eyes, "I saw you the other week."

Oh joy- you mean he saw me in a class we have together two times a mother-fucking week. Astonishing. "Yeah. And your point is..?"

"Well uh..." Is it just me or do you want to shove your fist so far down someone's throat that they have to eat through their asshole when they use the word 'Uh'? "You were uh..." Gonna punch you soon kid... "Kind of..." I noticed his hand making a stroking motion.

Fuck! Yeah Henry was being a fucking douche from Tartarus that day. Had to shut him up somehow. I felt embarrassed, but you always have to own it. "Yeah I jacked off. Cummed all in my pants too. Took me ten fucking minutes to take them off they were so sticky."

Yeah, he definitely wasn't expecting that. I'm the one who got caught masturbating during class, and he was the one blushing like a nun in a brothel. I swear it took him almost five minutes to recover. "Yeah. I'm not judging or anything it's just..." I fucking hate it when people trail off in the middle of a sentence.

"Get to the point. I've really got to go change my clothes. Sticky pants and all." I had reached my fucking tolerating dumbasses limit.

He cleared his throat, to get all the cum loose. "There's a club I'm in. We meet once a week."

Yeah that's not weird at all. "To sit around and jack-off?"

"No, no man ewww." Great a fucking homophobe. "It's like the opposite of sexaholics anonymous. We meet and discuss our sexuality and fetishes. That way we don't feel ashamed."

"Yeah that's not creepy at all. Let me guess, a whole bunch of fugly dudes talking about how small their dicks are?"

I think he was getting pissed, I don't know if it was the shame he wasn't supposed to have or the truth of his micro-dong. "Look man, just check it out. Tonight at 9:00 in the Allen Hall room 224."

He handed me a card and almost ran away, probably to go jerk-off so he could have some material for tonight's discussion. The card looked legit. Apparently it was even sanctioned by the school. All progressive and shit. Contact info and all the other fecal matter that screams organized. The club was called, /KinGk/. Gay as butt-fucking could be...

****

The financial aid office of any college is essentially the skid marks on Satan's fucking undies. Dried and crusty, pungent and generally disgusting. Cover your mouth and nose for fear you will vomit. Vomits like a fucking canister of Pringles: once you start you can't stop!

"I'm sorry Matt, but it seems as if you're ineligible." I knew it wasn't her fault but that didn't change the fact I wanted to slap her across the fucking face and hate-fuck her.

"What? How?"

"Well," I swear they don't actually do anything when they type on their computer. It's all for show. "According to your FAFSA you were only eligible for Fall semester not Spring, and you lost Hope." Yeah I fucking lost hope a long time ago.

"What about student loans?"

She made a face as if I had slapped her. Didn't she assume that would be my next question? "Let me look." Yeah look bitch. Click, click, Solitaire. "You've already received quite a few loans," yeah because I'm broke as shit, "and your credit isn't good enough to get more." Fucking credit score. How am I supposed to accrue credit while trying to get through college? Goddamn catch 22.

"Okay, so what can I do?" You know other than going on a fucking killing spree and burning the entire fucking campus to the ground. "It's only the second week of school and if I don't figure this out soon I'll be kicked from my classes." She had to understand right? "These are the last two classes I need to walk."

"We have a Nelnet payment option you can sign up for."

"How do I do that?"

"You'll have to discuss that with the Business Office." Oh bureaucracy. There is no knowledge or communication between any fucking department on campus. As soon as you make headway in one you have to start all over again in another. And repeat until the desired effect of potential suicide has been achieved. If the Financial Aid office was the skid marks, the Business Office was the dingle-berry dangling from Satan's asshole. The entire education system being the crusty rectum itself shitting out nice little turdies for us to all gobble down.

I overheard someone bitching about his major requiring four years of a foreign language, fluency. I was curious and asked what his major was. I figured something pertaining to foreign aspects or linguistics right? No. Fucking English. To major in English he had to essentially minor in an entirely different language. I'm of the opinion that people should master the English language in general before raping another countries language. Tru Dat yo! Like what the fuck?

Come to find out a lot of majors have a similar insipid requirement. Anywhere from two to four years' worth. Then, now get this, I learned foreign language classes cost more than other classes. So classes that really don't fucking matter, but are required, cost more? Yeah way to adhere to the curriculum created in 1919 by Columbia University. Way to siphon even more funds.

Meanwhile, you and I are running around developing hemorrhoids and ulcers, stressing out about being unable to pay for college. Taking out extravagant loans to finish and spending the rest of our lives paying them off. While simultaneously paying bills, taxes, 401 K's, and all the other bullshit that keeps us chained as civil social members. Yeah go ahead and fuck me again.
Chapter 9

BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZ BZZZZZ  
Erica\- <hey>  
Matt\- <Don't text me that useless bullshit. Pull the dick outa your mouth and say what you want to say>  
Erica\- <Someone's in a wonderful mood>  
Matt\- <You know me. Always happy>  
Erica\- <Anyway if you can pull your head out of your ass, I want you to come to dinner with me and Mike>  
Matt\- <I would love to, but I already made plans to repeatedly punch myself in the nuts til I pass out. Really can't flake on this>  
Erica\- <WTF? Seriously I want you two to be friends>  
Matt\- <And I want him to die a slow painful death from anal rape>  
Erica\- <Don't be an ass>  
Matt\- <What? My feelings don't get taken into account- it's all about what you want>  
Erica\- <Yep! Come on I know you're hungry. I'll even pay for your food>  
Matt\- <Free food? Ok I'm in. I'll just punch myself in the balls later>

****

I hate fucking douches! Everyone does and yet, they propagate like fucking maggots whittling away at the fabric of humanity. Even douches hate douches. Bitches bitch about douches. I firmly believe Hitler chose the wrong people to persecute. The Jews were innocent, but goddamn douches deserve heinous fucking acts. Death to the Douches.

"Yeah man I'm a rapper." Which is always the answer you want to hear when you ask someone what they do. Fucking douche. So, do you have an album, a hit, or anything similar? "I'm still working on my flow. One day I'll be famous." Yay! Text book paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur. Even if I didn't already loathe the little fuck for dating Erica, I would despise him for just fucking sucking at life.

Do you know what makes a good rapper, or for that matter good at any aspiration? Drive and necessity. If you have never had to live with your power and water cut off, dragging jugs filled from your local creek to flush your poop down, then you don't have the feel of necessity. And if you honestly think you will be great at something then you don't have drive, regardless of prosperity. Everybody's shit stinks, like runny fucking diarrhea that burns your asshole, and you have to work until you get solid shit. One day you'll have that shit you just want to take a picture of and change your Facebook profile to.

Oh joy... He's going to rap for me...

"Yeah, Yeah! My names Mike-E I'm a mean MC, shippin out bricks swingin a big Ol dick..." Yeah, fan-fucking-tastic. He's going to go far.

Luckily I had Henry to keep my sanity, "Yeah, Yeah! My name's Mike-E, a giant pussy, thin as a stick with a corkscrew dick..."

Apparently he took my appreciation for Henry's remix for an appreciation of his own. "See man easy. I can teach you."

"That's okay," and that's the nicest way I could say it.

He looked all butt-hurt and shit, but lucky for him, so I wouldn't rip out his offensive fucking throat and save the world from more dumbass wannabe rap music, Erica intervened. "So, what do you want to do next? We could have a few more drinks and stay for karaoke?"

Yay! More ridiculous fucking singing from the delusional. Now, how to interject the fact that I still needed to keep my appointment with punching myself in the balls?

BZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZ  
Cockstain\- <Hey man, you coming to the meeting?>

Oh joy now the possibilities are endless. So what do I choose? Stick around with the pretentious ghetto white boy, or go circle-jerk with a bunch of micro-dong bitches.... Then again, my balls still needed to be beat.

"Well, I would love to," I'm like a pathological liar, "but I have to meet a friend about school." And yes I gave her a kiss on the cheek when I left. Come on pussy, do something! Should have gone for tongue...

****

"So," Henry lit his cigarette leaning against the brick wall of the school like some fucking 80's cool-kid wannabe, "you really doing this huh?"

"I guess, otherwise I'm fucking delusional." We all had a good laugh at that. "How bad could it be?"

"Bad," good old Henry. "What if no one else is there and the little Cockstain tries to rape you? Or what if they are all there and they try to gang-rape you?"

"I'll kill them, or just close my eyes and go to my happy place."

"I'm just saying," God, he was actually being serious, "why would you even want to go? What could they possibly offer you?"

"Release you dumb fuck. Maybe they could offer me release." I fucking hated having to deal with all of them all the time. Hated having to jerk-off just to get some peace and quiet. Maybe they could offer me something. That was my only hope while I walked away from Henry and into the building.

Henry called after me like a babe screaming for a tit, "Release from what?"
Chapter 10

Six fucking Faggoty-Andy's sitting in a circle. One pulled out his dick and started jerking...

"I just can't help it," one of them started sharing. He was the third to go so far, and each had been more fucking pathetic than the last. "It's always rubbing against my pants and there are so many hot girls. I can't even concentrate in class. They are just sitting there all fresh and soft and..." I swear if he had of grabbed his cock I wouldn't have been surprised; I would have left, but not been surprised.

Apparently the little Cockstain was running the group, "It's okay Tom. A strong sexual desire is a healthy thing. There's nothing to be ashamed of. We just have to learn how to control it and release at the appropriate time. Ray, would you like to go next?"

"Huh," Yay a stoner in the group, this should be fun. "Yeah, uh..." I had to literally clench my jaw. "Well I'm a sadist. I just can't seem to cum unless the girl is experiencing pain. It really hurts my relationships. My ex was in to it but gradually stopped. At first she rarely ever used the safe word and then she started using it quicker and quicker. Finally she told me she just couldn't do it anymore. We broke up and now I'm paying sixty dollars online just to hear someone scream."

The Cockstain nodded like a fucking cliché- he even had a goddamn clipboard. "That's understandable. A sadist has a particular fetish that has to be addressed. At least you know what your kink is and can go from there. Now how about--"

"Wait," I had to interject. "You pay sixty dollars a month to jerk-off?"

The stoner shook his head, "A session."

What the fuck? "A fucking session? Sixty goddamn dollars for five minutes just to go whheeeeeeeee pwullch?"

Apparently I was being antagonistic because old Cockstain spoke up real quick. "It's not unheard of Matt. In fact most of us here do. If you want good porn you have to pay for it."

"Or," Did they not realize it could be a hell of a lot easier? "You could get a real girl."

"Not into the kind of kink we are." God they were hopeless. Did they not realize women invented kink? Without them saying okay, men would never be able to do anything weird to them. How often have we asked our girlfriends for their fantasy first? They know what we want.

I just let it lie, "Well there is one good thing; at least you know you're not a sadist."

"No," the stoner finally looked alive, "trust me. I know I'm a sadist. Something about a girl in pain just gets me."

"But they aren't." I couldn't believe he was so ignorant to his own self-proclaimed fetish. "If you use a safe word then they really aren't in pain. A true sadist cannot use a safe word. Otherwise they wouldn't feel pleasure until after their submissive partner had said the safe word. Because only then would they be in real pain. It's the reality of pain that brings the sadist pleasure not the portrayal. Real sadists are sociopaths, you're just a voyeur who likes to hear girls scream, and that I can agree with."

It's simple logic really, and that simple logic astounded all of them. Everyone is under the wrong impression about sadists. "Well," the stoner recovered quickly yay! "Then I'm a dominator." I don't know if he was trying to convince himself or me.

I shook my head, more with pity than anything, "No. Your partner is submitting to you, not being dominated by you. A true dominator has to have absolute power, and the act of willingly submitting to you would negate that. They still retain the power to refuse and to stop you. A true dominator is a rapist. You have to have a completely unwilling subject to derive any pleasure if you're either a Sadist or a Dominator. That's the reason people pay dominatrixes, because the dominatrix doesn't get any pleasure. If they did they would do it for free."

They were all wide-eyed-- and mouthed-- sluts waiting to slurp up my words. Honestly, how does a club revolving around sex not know anything about it? I felt like one of the teachers shoving my cock down their throats. "Do any of you actually know what a fetish is?" I finally understood my professor. I asked a genuine question and none of them could stop sucking my dick to answer. They were scared of being wrong. Come on! So what if you're wrong?

"The only thing that's actually sexual in origin is cumming. Sticking your dick in a pussy," or ass I was pretty sure for most of them, "and skeeting all up in that shit. A fetish is when you give a sexual quality to something that has no sexual orientation. Asses are for shitting and tits are for breastfeeding, yet we are all obsessed with them. They are not sexual, we make them sexual."

"Then why do we have fetishes?" Good boy. Look at you asking questions.

I shrugged, "Cause bitches are hot. It can be media, first masturbatory experience, Oedipal complex or any number of shit. There doesn't really have to be a reason. Some shits just hot. The only problem is when you give names and meaning to shit that doesn't matter. It makes every-fucking-thing convoluted. Like how people think they're sadists because society gave it a shitty half-assed definition. It's just a fetish of assuming control. You delude yourself into believing. That's what a fetish, is a sexual delusion."

"But it really turns me on..."

"Of course it fucking does," fucking helpless! "That's the entire point. If we didn't delude ourselves into a fetish then the vulgar truth of sex would be devastating. It's about procreation, and us feeling good cumming is our incentive. With a fetish we can enjoy sex without realizing its truth. Because who the fuck wants to bring a child into this donkey-fucking world?"

BLIPP BLIPP

Just in time, saved by the fucking pussy. I knew only one girl messaged me online. "Look I've got to go. This was fun though."

****

Ware the ass that makes the mouth drop, for the origin of it is purely psychotic in nature. If a girl has an ass that can stop a freight-train, it's an ass that can start a war. Helen of Troy had an ass you just wanted to eat breakfast off of, and it destroyed a glorious nation. Though, its progeny did form Rome and Britain...

In my experience the craziest bitch is the one with an ass that just begs to be smacked like a bongo drum. Her name was April, and she had that perfect ass that influenced the shape of the romantic heart. An ass you had to bite, and just wanted to bend over and ride until the sun came up. The only drawback, she was fucking insane! Like choke me I'm a slut, stalk your ass, and you're going to have to change your phone number and move just to get rid of me. Best fucking sex I've ever had though.

She liked it rough, self-delusioned into believing pain was love. The only downside was she was married, and I couldn't leave any traces. I'm a biter. The first time we hooked up I bit her nipple so hard it bled; she still has the scar. I marked the bitch as my own.

Now when choking a girl there's a right way and a wrong way to go about it. The wrong way is to actually restrict her esophagus, and that's how you wind up with a dead bitch and a dilemma. The correct way is to block off her carotid arteries. That way she gets the feel of a warm strong hand around her throat and the lack of oxygen to her brain she craves without the negative repercussions of accidentally crushing her throat. You would be surprised how many people don't understand how to have sex and just dick around like a bunch of ignorant pussies. Knowledge is key to safe sex, safe dirty, dirty fucking sex.

Hair snatched back in one hand, the other clenching her carotid, and her ass serving as a wonderful cushion for my thrusts. The best part about only blocking off the carotid is that you can hear her scream. "Punish me daddy. Punish your dirty slut." Well she asked...

When you feel like you're about to explode and don't want to stop, just switch positions or shove your cock down their throat. I chose the latter. She was the perfect picture of a little Goth-slut. Short hair dyed purple, ivory skin dotted with piercings, and crystal blue eyes. I loved watching them fill with tears while I crammed my cock deep down her throat. Her black lipstick smearing my dick.

I yanked her head closer until her teeth hit my pubes, I could feel the ribbed edges of her throat convulsing. She was such a sweet slut, on her knees rubbing her clit with one hand and pinching her nipple with the other. I grasped her hair firmly and used my other hand to pinch her nostrils shut. I was mesmerized watching tears draw black lines down her pale face with mascara.

I couldn't hold it in anymore, a thick trail of saliva followed my dick out of her mouth. She was such a slut and still capable of looking innocent. She pouted her lips and pleaded, "I want your cum daddy. Feed your little slut. Please daddy, I've been a good girl." So I did. "Oh yeah daddy. Cover me. Mmmmmmmmm."
Chapter 11

The cost of one semester is $4,500 over the span of four months. Rent at $450, electricity at $75, water at $35, and groceries at $150 a month. That's $7,340 dollars to live and go to school for just four months, and that's not including extracurricular, utility fluctuations, and actually eating good food.

$7,340 divided by minimum wage, $7.25 an hour, is 1,012 hours. Spread out over four months is 253 hours a month, which is basically 60 hours a week. Which is 20 more than full time. That's double shifts, night shifts, and any fucking other shift you can pick up. Meanwhile, having to do a shit-ton of homework and classes spread out in the most inconvenient way possible. Well that is if you're not a mommy and daddy dick sucking spoiled brat.

And all for what? To get a job that has nothing to do with your degree, or to get one that you could learn in two weeks' time. Pushing papers and shit just to work constantly to save up enough money so you can finally quit fucking working and die. We are all delusional.

I was fucked, and not in a good way. Like walking down an alley whistling and you get jumped by five guys. The five aforementioned guys then decide to brutally sodomize you. I wonder how many dicks one person can fit in their mouth.

"Why are you so fucking mopey?" Henry asked in his usual happy voice. I flipped him off. "Is it Erica?" Fuck! I had forgotten that fact. The fucking slut marrying that pretentious dip-shit. Woe is me and all that shit.

"Now I am. Fuck you man."

He wouldn't even look at me the faggot, just kept his head down typing away on the laptop. Click, puff, click, puff. "You should really be more concerned with your overwhelming lack of money. Wait," he looked up with a genuinely quizzical look on his face, "or would it be underwhelmed."

"Fuck," I poured a glass of whiskey, "just fucked. Whatever word you want to put on it, it's just fucked."

He shrugged and went back to his fucking candy crush or whatever the hell he was doing. "True. Well you're fucked. Now what?"

"If I knew that I wouldn't be fucked now would I?" What was I going to do? I had signed up for the payment plan and that just raised the cost by $800 after interest. Two months of fucking rent!

"You could get another job at night. Fuck sleep."

I couldn't help but groan, "Yeah who needs to sleep. Then I can get another job to pay for the coffee to stay up for the second job. A goddamn catch-22 of butt-fucking."

Click, puff, "It's really going to cut into our downtime isn't it?"

"How the fuck will it affect you? I'm the one that has to do everything. You just sit around and play fucking online games."

"I'm not playing a game," click, puff.

"Well whatever the hell it is you're doing."

Click, puff, "I'm making a website."

"See useless shit that won't be affected." Damn selfish prick sitting around making a website while I was freaking the fuck out. Wait a goddamn minute? "How the fuck did you pay for a website?"

Click, puff, "The prepaid debit card you got for Christmas."

"You pus-filled cunt. Did you not get the memo? I'm fucking broke. I only have like forty bucks."

"It was only $19.99."

"Only!" Half my fucking money! "Do you just want me to be tossed on the street jerking cock for French fries?"

Click, puff, "I'm doing this to help you out don't be an ungrateful ass."

Ungrateful ass? "How the fuck is your little queer site supposed to help?"

"Give me one second," click, puff, click-click. "There. Take a gander my perpetually puckered asshole of a friend." He swung the laptop around.

Local Bounty, was the title of the site, and other than that I couldn't discern much else about it. "What the fuck am I looking at?"

"The answer to all your concerns."

What the fuck was he talking about? All I saw was a mostly empty site. "What the fuck is this?"

Henry crushed his cigarette and proceeded to light another, "Have you ever seen a really hot girl on campus?"

"Fucking duh."

"Okay. Then after have you ever searched through porn sites trying to find a girl that looks like her?"

"Well, yeah. I do the same thing with celebrities too. Everyone does."

"Exactly," he acted like he had just trapped me. "What if there was a member's only site that had sex videos of not a similar girl but the exact girl you saw earlier that day?"

"That would make it a lot easier I guess."

"Now, what if said site was a pay site. Would you pay a small fee to watch the video?"

I had to think about that for a second. Would I? "If the price wasn't too steep then yeah, why the fuck not?"

"The real question though," he took a long drag savoring the silence, "is do you think those micro-dongs from earlier would?"

Shit yeah! "If they would pay sixty dollars for some video shit, they would definitely pay for a girl they actually know."

"Yep. Now what if all that money they paid went straight to you?"

Cha-Ching. I could taste the sweet paper that makes a whore wet. "Alright I'm on board. Tell me how this works."

"Ah, ah ah," he said waving his finger like a fag. "First tell me you're sorry for being such an uptight douche."
Chapter 12

VIBBBBB VIBBBBBBB  
Erica\- <Do you think I'm making a mistake?>  
Matt\- <Your parents made the mistake. You're just a byproduct>  
Erica\- <Don't be an ass!>  
Matt\- <I'm a dick not an ass>  
Erica\- <WTF is the dif?>  
Matt\- <Dicks are always right...>  
Erica\- <Fuck off. Seriously am I making a mistake?>  
Matt\- <Doing what?>  
Erica\- <Shooting up heroine... Marrying Mike. WTF do you think I mean?>  
Matt\- <Of course I fucking do. Dudes a piece of shit>  
Erica\- <No he's not>  
Matt\- <Don't ask my opinion if you aren't going to believe me.>  
Erica\- <What should I do?>  
Matt\- <It's your life do what you want>  
Erica\- <Matt, you're my best friend. I need your help>  
Matt\- <Just fucking dump him in the trash like the douche he is>  
Erica\- <But I don't want to be alone>  
Matt\- <You've always got me or some other gay bullshit>  
Erica\- <Not like that. I'm fucking 27. I need to be married. I can't keep fucking around>  
Matt\- <Marry me then>  
Erica\- <Haha. I'm being serious>  
Matt\- <So am I>  
Erica\- <We've been through this three times. We don't work>  
Erica\- <Why would you even say shit like that?>  
Erica\- <You're the one that left me remember?>  
Erica\- <Matt?>  
Erica\- <MATT?????>

****

They should just change the name of Facebook to fucking Stalkbook because that's exactly what it is. All you need is a name and you can find everything. Location, likes and dislikes, intelligence, religious denomination (all under the heading of how much of a slut they are) and a multitude of inane ramblings. You don't even need to be a hacker.

My job helps, being located downtown in a college town means one thing- lots of fine-ass bitches. I love spring and summer the most. Dumb cunts actually pay me money to look down their shirts. I have the perfect aerial view and I use it to maximize my creepiness.

They always use groundhogs to tell when spring is coming, which is just retarded. Spring has arrived when the thighs make their first appearance. A sea of sumptuous flesh. Legs you just want to pick out of your teeth.

Unfortunately for my dick it was still winter. Two months away from the barely clothed vixens. I fucking hate winter. Not the cold, but how every hot slut seems to want to hide their voluptuous bodies. Still, you gotta take the good with the bad.

Yes please hot girl pay with your card. Let me run it and pretend to look at the expiration date and verification code just to get your name. Sometimes the card receipt won't have it.

Now, it's not like I did it to every girl, just the hottest ones. After two doubles I had compiled a list of ten of the sexiest bitches that walked in. It wouldn't just be enough for them to be hot, they also had to be girls that were well known on campus. And by well-known I mean they were in plenty of people's spank-bank.

Before you start on a feminist rant let me clear the air and my name. Fuck off you faggot-ass-bitch! You knew what you were in for when I first opened my mouth and raped your goddamn skull. I'm not some costuming pseudo-Christian, I'm a piece of shit. At least I'm man enough to admit it.

Plus, have you dated a girl? They're like fucking financial vampires. Buying them drinks, food (God bitches can eat), and any other thing to play with their titties. I believe in capitalism, and sorry to all the hoity-toity ass-wipes, bitches are a commodity.

Still with me?

God you're fucked up...

But that's all I needed, ten hot sluts and Facebook. Search name, click profile, click photos, sift through until you find the perpetually titled folder "Summer (insert year)" and find one of them juicy pics. Tits and ass, the only reason I have ever wanted to believe in God. Why can a woman post pictures in a swimsuit, but people will get all butt-hurt if she poses in underwear?  
Look at them Tig-Ol-Bitties!

Milk Mama, Milk.  
That Juicy Ass. Spank that shit.  
Thick thighs and blue eyes.  
Pouty lips and wide-angled hips.  
Tan lines and erect nips.  
Grab your dick and give it a squeeze  
Skeet, Skeet- Drip Drip.

Bitches are so hot and they know exactly what they're doing when they take those fucking pics. I couldn't help it, had to unzip and placate the dragon in my pants. It was kind of hot that I somewhat knew the girls. This could actually work.

And don't be a prude, I'm positive I'm not the first guy to jerk-off to someone's profile on Facebook. What do you think teenagers do if they don't have porn? Bet you've done it and probably to a 16 year olds profile you sick fuck.

KNOCK KNOCK

Fuck! "Go away... I'm busy."

"Put your dick up and open the door Matt." Oh shit Erica. What to do, what to do? What do you think I did?

I opened the door sporting a pair of navy blue boxer-briefs hole open, glorious boner hanging out. "What do you want?"

She decided to walk right in, the erection not even perturbing her. "We need to talk."

"Hello," I pointed both hands to my erection framing it nicely, "kind of busy right now."

"I don't give a shit. Put it up and talk to me. This is serious."

I was kind of hoping she would jump on my dick like the little cock-goblin she was, but obviously she was all serial and shit. "Alright what is it?" I asked not really wanting to have to listen to her flap her goddamn blowjob-hole.

"How could you text me that shit?"

"Excuse me?" Like really. What the fuck was this bitch talking about?

"The texts Matt. The fucking texts."

The sound of a lighter being struck cut through my confusion. Fucking Henry. I had been so consumed with the tits and asses that I hadn't even noticed him fucking with my phone. The smug son of a bitch. "Ohhhh. Those texts. What about them?"

"What about them? Are you fucking retarded? The whole bit about us?"

What the fuck did Henry do now? He was always fucking around in my life. "What about us?" And that's the point I realized I was legitimately retarded. Or mentally handicapped for you PC ass-hats.

It really pisses me off when bitches cry, more so when I know it's my fault. "Fuck you Matt. I can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what? What the fuck is going on Erica?"

"Us. The whole will he or won't he trope. I'm tired of this. You know what? Thank you. Thank you for stopping any doubts I may have had."

Never grab a girl by the arm when she's pissed and crying, storming away from you. She will slap you, and it will fucking hurt. "Don't ever touch me asshole. Oh and by the way," she snatched the door open and stopped to pierce me with her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes glistening, "his dick's bigger than yours." SLAM!

"What the hell did you do Henry?"

"Same thing I always do," he tossed my phone to me, "tried to help you." Whatever vestige of humanity I had left dissipated with each text I read. Fading to pure misanthropy. By the end I was dead inside.
Chapter 13

Sixteen, sixteen fucking times! Wait, I didn't ask the question. I always fuck that part up. How many times can a man masturbate in one day? Sixteen, sixteen fucking times. A whole new meaning to the term self-abuse.

I couldn't talk to Henry, and none of my other sluts were nibbling. How the fuck could he do that? It was devastating- realizing I was so close to what I really wanted. To be fair he did almost help; it was the lack of communication that destroyed everything. And if I'm honest, what pissed me off was he actually had a plan when I didn't. Who knew all you had to do was tell a girl how you felt? Fucking crazy right?

Every time I heard his loathsome fucking voice, I grabbed my phone. Porn sites on favorites yo! You would be surprised how much free porn is on the Internet. Well, maybe you wouldn't you sick fuck. It's alright-- we all jerk-it.

Still, I could only keep it up for so long. Chaffing and drained sack and all. Plus, I had to go to work which was terrifying. Not because of Henry, well partially, but because I was scheduled to work with one of the dumbest cunts ever to come into existence. It was a moot point to even talk to her. Either she wasn't listening or she was just stupid. One of those veritable Christian young girls.

I may not seem like it, I use the term faggot a lot, but I'm all for gay rights. Fuck that. I'm all for rights regardless of which term you use. I've seen domination porn where a guy was forced to suck a dick. Shit was hot- he was very enthusiastic. If it wasn't for tits I could be gay. Well, no. I just don't find men attractive. I like soft and supple. Still, I'm glad girls can find us men attractive, so how can I fault anyone else?

If you think being gay is a choice then I have news for you- you're gay. If you can entertain the thought that someone is capable to choose either gender to be attracted to then, by correlation, you must think you can choose. Which means that at some point you've seen a nice hard cock and thought- yeah, I could definitely suck that shit. Because if you didn't see the same gender as a viable candidate then you couldn't process the thought that someone else could. Dumbasses. That's why it's called homophobia.

I couldn't help but twist my face in an image of borderline vomiting when I looked into her vacant fucking eyes. "You seriously think being gay is a choice?"

"Yep!" Like oh my god tee-hee! I wanted to gouge her fucking eyes out.

"So you think that one day someone just wakes up and decides they want to start sucking dick?"

"Ewwwww."

"You're fucking ewwwww."

The fucking child-bitch shook her head at me. "I'm going to pray for you." Yay! I bet God's tired of hearing my fucking name.

"Don't waste your breath. Instead maybe you should spend your time thinking instead of letting some money-grubbing priest shove his wrinkly cock down your throat."

"You're disgusting!" Under statement of the year cunt. "They aren't money grubbing. It says in the bible we are supposed to give ten percent of what we earn."

"Where?" Such a simple word, but to her it was like a punch in the tits. Though she was part of the itty-bitty-titty-committee.

"Uh..." Yeah definitely needed to be punched. "I don't know, but everyone says it."

The cock rammed down her throat. "Do you know who Martin Luther was? And if you say the Civil Rights leader who gave the Dream Speech I will rip your hair out."

"No," after two minutes. I think I was scaring her. I don't give a fuck, I'm okay letting you indulge in your ignorance, but when you start judging others who aren't around to defend themselves it fucking irritates me.

"All the Christian bibles were written in Latin. Latin pretty much died out around 600 ad. Around the 16th century Martin Luther finally translated the bible. Up to that point everyone had to have a priest tell them what the bible said or learn a dead language. Luther believed each person should be able to read the bible for themselves. He believed they should be free from the forced control of the canonical rule."

She was just too fucking dumb to comprehend it. I sighed, "Never-mind. Your soul may be saved but your mind is fucked. By the way, the tithe, or tenth, was started by the Judaic people in the twelve tribes of Israel. It was a form of taxes the others paid the one tribe that essentially governed everything." I had to walk away. How could you ever believe in anything without researching it?

I was still muttering obscenities the entire walk to the bathroom. Stupidity infuriates me. Open, flip the light on, close, lock, turn...

SLAM!

Henry had been waiting for me, the little shit. Stars exploded and I felt his sharp ass elbow pinning my throat. "Shut-up and listen!" God he was angry. "Look I'm sorry or whatever other bullshit you want to hear, but we have more important things to discuss. And I can't have you getting rid of me. Now if I let you go will you listen?"

How could I refuse such a sincere request? I nodded emphatically, or rather tried to but it was hard with his arm constricting my head. He let me down and oxygen slowly returned. "Jesus fucking Christ Henry. Trying to kill me?"

"I just want to talk."

God my fucking throat hurt. "About what?"

"Your future Matt. The site."

I shook my head, "I'm over it man. There's no way. I need to concentrate on getting Erica back. Fuck school. I'm withdrawing Monday."

For a dead imaginary delusion he sure could fucking punch. "Don't be a dumbass Matt. What if both goals could be accomplished simultaneously?"

I rubbed my jaw trying to make the pain dissipate. "I guess I'm listening."

"Do the site, get the cash and fucking graduate. Get a job and show her you've grown the fuck up."

Could it be that simple? He was right about the direct approach earlier. "That's still a slim chance."

Henry's grin would have terrified Satan himself, he would have tightened up his asshole until it was in his stomach. "Don't worry the odds will be in your favor. I'll make sure of it."

"You know what fuck it. What have I got to lose?"

"There's just something you have to do first."

"What?"

"Get some videos for the site."
Chapter 14

As much as I bitch about the price of college, you do get a lot of perks. Gym, health center, public transportation, Internet, library, recreational facilities and electronics all at your disposal. For me- it was the electronics I wanted. Cameras, lots of fucking cameras.

My room was cloaked in cameras, a 360 view. It wasn't any spy shit so I had to hide them slightly. As long as the lights showed the bed fuck the visibility of the cameras. Plus, the bitches' eyes would be rolled back.

I had three days until the next meeting. Well four really but no one goes out drinking on a Sunday night. Monday through Saturday every slut was out ready to be painted white. And I was just the guy to do it.

You can't use drugs to rape bitches. Well, that is any drug that can't be taxed via the government. Alcohol on the other hand was an open target. Sluts love drugs, and alcohol is the highest grossing drug. Date-rape drugs are for miserly, sloth mother-fuckers without any patience. It's only rape if they don't willingly take the drug. Shit, they'll open wide for any shot you want to give them.

Whiskey neat, Crown or better. Woodford reserve if they have it. A gentleman's drink to aid in the not so gentlemanly activities. I was a goddamn bounty hunter sipping the warm liquid calmly. I had my list of ten and I was sure I would run into at least one of them.

Scanning, scanning, target acquired! Number 6- I think her name was Annie but I just called her Legs. Thick and tan, perfectly formed with a nice sheen that screamed 'Lick me'.

Now, there are three ways to pick up a girl at a bar. You have the hopeful moneybags that sits with a girl plying her all night with free drinks and recounted tales of his prowess. Typically every tale is a lie, and the money he's slinging is his week's paycheck. He works hard for the pussy. Any man that really had that much money would surely accost a hotter bitch.

Money Bags' bane is the Vulture. This guy plays the waiting game and swoops in once the girl is sufficiently inebriated. He spends no money and gets to reap what the earlier man has sewn. I like this maneuver. Mostly because you don't have to spend any fucking money and I'm as broke as an eighty-year-old man's dick.

Then there's the direct approach. You walk up, buy her a drink, and literally charm her pants off. You have to be confident and handsome to pull this off, and your prey has to want it.

Make no mistake, women are capricious. Each moment they are looking for something different and you have to act accordingly. A girl amidst a group of girls is not looking for dick... Yet. She's out to have a good time for the moment. The vulture approach works best with this one. A girl with a group of guys you need to approach the same way. Wait for the other guys to find their local dicking-hole and pick her up off the streets like a stray.

If you're ugly, fat, got a small dick or a combination you better have some money. Unless you're after an ugly and or fat girl. But honestly, who wants one of them? Yeah, if you're hammered or really want to regret the next morning.

Legs was a third type, the huntress. Dressed to kill and waiting for her mark. She couldn't have been more obvious if a guy in a bright orange vest and a flashlight was motioning towards one of her three dick-holes.

Study your prey, notice everything from clothes to jewelry and shoes. Red-dress screams fuck me in the bathroom, black dress screams take me home, and any other color scheme between means please love me. She was in a black dress.

Sluts wear their thoughts on their faces in the form of make-up. None means she's stressed out or just doesn't give a shit. Too much of a gamble in the sex department. She'll either fuck your dick off or lie there like a blow-up doll. They make really life-like dolls now. Good news for some of you...

Too much make-up just screams I have flaws give me a compliment. Probably an Adler complex or daddy issues. They will suck your dick off. I likes me a trashy ho. Something about my cum drawing lines down her face just really makes my balls tingle.

Legs' make-up was like fucking Goldilocks- just dick-sucking right. Perfectly blended and tinted. Mascara, blush, and all the other shit that just makes your dick jump. The make-up that says she spent hours on it so please mess it up.

Essentially if you're looking for good sex look for the prim and proper slut. If they won't spend more than twenty minutes on the way they look they won't spend more than that on your dick. The more work she puts in on herself the more she'll put in on you. And that's what you want. Otherwise you have boring snoring sex.

"Annie right?" I forced an unsure look as if I hadn't been stalking her profile moments earlier.

"Yeah, you're Matt right?" It's always a good sign when they know your name. It pretty much means she's thought about you while flicking her bean.

"Yeah. God I almost didn't recognize you all dressed up. What's the occasion?" All girls just want to hear they're pretty. They even do it to themselves. They never complement each other on intelligence, humor, or anything about their personality. It's always pretty clothes or looks- anything in the superficial vein. Bitches are all superficial. I don't care if it's a hippy living in the mountains not shaving for years, she will still brush her armpit hair to make it look good.

She blushed, and while blood rushed to her face it rushed to my balls. "Thank you. No reason. I just felt like getting dressed up."

"Well you look too nice to be in a shit-hole like this." Throw in a swear word as soon as possible. If she cringes at a simple word in her ears, she won't let you stick it in her rear.

Either she didn't care, or she felt too complimented to notice. "You're sweet." No I'm not slut.

"You know I cheated off of you in Political Science?" You have to show they meant something to you when you saw them last. No girl likes being ignored. Plus I'm setting something up. You'll see.

"Oh god," she giggled, I love it when girls giggle. "Which test?"

"I don't know," show her the test wasn't memorable, just her, "but I'm pretty sure I got a C." Just like your cup size.

A genuine laugh this time, "Yeah that sounds about right. Sorry."

"No, no. It's better than what I would have done." Take out your wallet and don't be clumsy about it. Fuck tight pants. "Let me buy your next round as a thank you for helping me pass the class." Bam! I'm in.

Two drinks and half an hour of pleasant conversation. I know it's hard to listen to the sounds that come out of a girl's dick-hole, but sometimes you have to. Remember two small things, then repeat them back at the right time tying them into whatever she just said. It will get her so wet. Oh, here's a guy that actually listens. Could he be the one?

Fuck no. Well, one out of your next twenty.

Back to my place and just when I worry about how to turn on the cameras she asked to use the bathroom. Fortuitous. I keep a stereo in my bedroom just for situations like these, fuck iPods. No sense in wasting another half hour talking in the living room when we could get to fucking.

She came out and I was putting a CD in the stereo. She avoided the living room and came straight to the bedroom. Now she was in my lair. I didn't want to wait long. Remember, kiss a girl like you love her and you'll never be alone.
Chapter 15

I had three nights and I only scored twice. Struck out pretty badly the second night. In fact she slapped me... I kind of deserved it. She told me she had a boyfriend and I told her I didn't ask that. What's a little casual sex between consenting adults? Yeah, definitely deserved it.

Oh I'm sorry, did you want me to go into detail about the fucking? I'm not writing smut here. There are plenty of websites you can jerk-off to you sick perv. Don't touch your dick while reading my words. It's fucking sick. Would you jerk-off in the middle of a conversation? Then don't jerk-off while I'm talking to you. Uncouth bastard.

I mean I could describe the feel of their teeth on my dick. The wetness of their pussy. How they were so tight I had to use spit for lube and I thought I was going to explode way too early. Tits bouncing, ass smacking, and a little nipple twisting. But honestly, you've had sex, hopefully. Just dub in whichever encounter you want. It's fucking sex. A molding of fleshy debauchery. I cummed all over them if that makes you feel better.

I went to class, I worked, drank and fucked. It was all a calculated blur. I even took off Thursday from work so I could edit and upload the videos. I was surprised that I actually got good shots. I hate amateur porn where there's that one angle that only shows the guys ass pounding up and down. Like what's the fucking point?

People don't watch porn for bouncing balls. We watch it for bouncing tits, jiggling asses, screaming faces, bent legs and clenching hands. Editing is the most crucial part, you have to get the aforementioned amenities. Otherwise you're just watching yourself masturbate. Don't you hate it when you're about to cum and the camera zooms in on a guy's dick going in and out of her pussy or straight to the guy's contorted face? It's kind of fucking gay.

The website was already untraceable to me due to the money gram debit card and the fact that I high-jack my neighbor's Internet; it's really their own fault for not password protecting it. Uploading the videos needed to be just as untraceable. This is where the perks of the collegiate library comes into play.

Put the edited videos on a USB, and upload them to a local library computer. With another USB have a simple video editing software. Use it on that computer to faux edit. Which is to just shave off a few seconds so the editing trace is to that computer file. Another USB, and another computer, and upload it to the site. Too much traffic and editing to successfully trace. Plus, if they did it would just go to my neighbors Internet address.

The videos were uploaded and I was walking down the hall laptop in hand. I was getting a little hard just thinking about it. Even if it didn't work it was kind of fun.

I was a little late but that's okay. They nodded welcome to me, which was really fucking surprising. I thought their assholes would pucker in disgust. It was kind of a letdown. Woe is me...

The stoner was recounting his latest masturbatory exploit. "I was in an online video session, $75 for a private session, and I was two strokes away from cumming I swear. And wouldn't you fucking know it someone knocked on the door." Like a farting buck they all grumbled with shared dissatisfaction. Apparently this happened to a lot of the sexually challenged. "I know right? Freaking buzzkill.

"So I get up to answer the door, obviously." Obviously, it's not like you could just turn up the volume and ignore them until they leave. Right? "And it's two Mormons. To make a long story short." Dear God please. "It took ten minutes to get them to leave and when I got back the session was up. $75 down the freaking drain."

Grumble, grumble. Grumble, grumble. Who the fuck really cares? Apparently the ejaculatory frustrated. A chorus of oh man, damn, sucks etc. arbitrary ejaculations. I was twitching with anticipation. Hurry the fuck up! I had to wait on a Skeeter-boy. Well he looked like a skater wannabe, but you get the fucking picture.

Skeeter-boy actually primed the entire group for me so I had to begrudgingly thank him. "I take World Lit with this girl Catherine. Have y'all seen her?" Catcalls and whistles. She was actually on my top five list of the ten I had compiled. I was really kicking myself for not being able to hunt her down.

"Exactly. Too fine. Well, she was wearing those leggings that all the girls wear and they were just cupping her ample ass. It was like watching two perfectly formed pillows that you just wanted to take a nap on. All I could do was stare at the top of her hips while she was leaning over taking notes. We covered some old-ass book that no one cares about, and honestly I much preferred what I was studying." A nice round of laughter. I kind of liked Skeeter-Boy.

"I literally ran to my car and into my house to find her Facebook page. Get this, she does ballet. I found an entire album of her in her tights in various exotic poses. I jerked-off twice." A round of applause for this honest mother-fucker. It couldn't have been a better set-up for me.

Finally it was my fucking turn. I know these meetings were about opening up and listening, but I only wanted to use them like cum-rags. They were actually waiting eagerly for my speech. Like it or not people like it when you piss them of. Anger and disgust are true emotions. Unadulterated really.

"I too was scouring Facebook profiles of girl I knew by sight alone. Which I believe a lot of us have done." They all nodded like blowjob queens. "I think there's just something about sexualizing someone you actually know that's better than anonymous girls in porn. Don't you?" They all agreed and I knew I had them. First rule of getting anyone to agree with your main idea is to get them to agree with a simple one first. If they can't refute the first they are mired along the trap to the main concept.

"And that's when I found it. A website that will benefit all of us." Now they were curious. Ambiguity and altruism always works. I had prepared an entire speech highlighting everything, but I'm an impetuous fucker. "What if there was a website where you could find porn videos of those same girls you were searching Facebook for?" Silence. Confused silence. Confused but intrigued.

I flipped open my laptop, already on the site. "I found," don't let them know it's mine, "a website just for that." It took a few minutes but their eyes took it all in. Names muttered one by one as I scrolled through the page. Legs, Tits, Ass, Thighs, Eyes, and every other name. I don't care for names, there are a thousand Emily's but only one Ivory-Thighs. "There are two of the girls profiles already embedded with videos."

Skeeter-Boy was the first to speak up, "What the hell man?" Indeed. "That's illegal." I think he was trying to assuage his own conscience.

"I know," I had to agree. "But it's a hell of a lot better than Facebook stalking."

I could see the conflict in each of them. Head and dick warring. Is there really a difference between scouring their photos and watching a video if the intent is the same? Cockstain broke the silence, "What's the name of the website?"
Chapter 16

$132 in less than an hour. Each one of the squealing moral bastards had signed up and purchased both videos. It was fucking sweet. Two obstacles remained: I needed more, so some sort of advertising was in order, and I needed to get the money out without it being traced to me.

"Why not just send it to your bank account?" Henry asked while doing very obscene motions with a zucchini. Let's just say always wash your fruits and vegetables.

"Because you dumbass, then it would be traced to me. That's the entire thing we're trying to avoid."

He shrugged tossing the zucchini aside, "You'll think of something." Hopefully I fucking would. I needed a bank account without putting up any identification, and I needed to figure it out quickly. Probably should have been working on that first. How do professional criminals launder money?

"Ohhhhhh," Henry was like a goddamn child, "can we get a cantaloupe? I hear if you cut a hole in it and put it in the microwave you can fuck it like a real pussy." Just ewwww.

"No," I had to walk away, "we only have twenty bucks left on the debit card remember?"

"No."

I had to restrain myself, it wouldn't look good to start yelling at an invisible person in the middle of a grocery store- no matter how much of a fucking pest he was being. "Well you should. You're the one who spent it on the website. Honestly, how much of your brains did you lose?"

"No," his voice was low and I immediately felt the 'oh shit feeling'. "I mean I didn't use the debit card."

What? "What do you mean?"

God I wanted to punch him in his broken face making a confused look and shit. "I don't know any simpler words to put it in." He shouted like I was deaf, "I didn't use the debit card!"

A chill ran up my spine like someone had just shoved ice cubes up my asshole. "What card did you use?"

"Mike's card." He said it so fucking nonchalantly and just walked away.

I shoved the cart forward cutting him off and squashing some gourd-like vegetable in the process. "How the fuck did you get his card?"

The shit he had done and he looked at me like I was stupid. "I didn't get his card just the number. When he paid for his meal. You ran the fucking card. I was right next to you for Christ's sake."

Fucking bastard! I didn't know if I was irate or elated. On the one hand it was kind of shitty, but on the other hand he may go to jail. Morals are fucking confusing. I mean just fuck. "Why did you take his number though?"

"I don't know I just did. It worked out though. Told you I had a plan. Now," he held up the cantaloupe almost begging, "can we please get this fucking thing so I can fuck it?"

****

Early as fuck! Henry's ass jumping on the bed like some puerile piece of shit. Who needs an alarm clock? He was like a Goddamn puppy, wagging his dick instead of a tail. Following me everywhere. When a man is taking a dump\- please just leave him alone!

"Why the fuck are you so excited?" God I needed coffee. Probably straight up the ass for better effect.

His smug look was antagonizing, "I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"How to get the cash."

It took a moment for his words to process. I was straining to get a thick-ass turd out. When the water splashed my asshole his words registered. "What? How?"

A fucking wink and a flash of his ass, he hated pants, was all I received. He strolled down the hall singing, "I figured it out. I figured it out. When you couldn't." Over and fucking over again.

I wiped as quickly as possible and almost tripped over my boxers running after him. "What the fuck is it? I hate these fucking games."

"Uh-uh-uh," he shook his ass at me. "If you want to know you'll have to listen to the story." Fucking ass! I groaned knowing there was no way around it. Thankfully he had a pot of coffee made and even got me a cup. The prick even pulled out a chair for me. The smell of the exploded cantaloupe from the microwave filling the air like molded pussy.

He cleared his throat for a minute straight and I snapped, "Will you get on with it already."

That stupid fucking grin, "Well, while your lazy ass was sleeping I decided to do some research. Google is fucking divine! Did you know that the latest date Easter can fall on is April 25th?"

"Why the fuck do I care?"

"1943 was the last time it happened." I was a moment away from chucking my full cup of coffee at his annoying face. "I Googled the obvious, how to get a bank account without an ID. It's fucking impossible. Who knew that an institution that wanted your money was so fucking nosey?"

The coffee was nice and warm on my throat, I imagine that's how sluts feel about warm cum. "Yeah. They instituted a lot of changes because of money laundering. Which is exactly what we're trying to do."

"Exactly," Henry slammed his hand down on the table, fucker almost made me spill my coffee. "After a few hours on that shit I realized I was asking the wrong question. Well, I was asking the question when I should have been asking the answer."

"Henry, I can't do this existential shit this morning. Just get to the fucking point."

He sighed like a little pussy, "Fine, fine. What I mean is I kept searching for how to get a bank account, when I should have been searching for how to get cash from a third party."

"Still not following you man."

He rolled his eyes like I was fucking retarded. "Money laundering has to go through a third party and I was trying to skip it. So what I searched for instead was what websites send you cash."

It kind of made sense but, "Wouldn't that get you a lot of scam sites?"

"Fuck yes, but I did find something interesting." He just stared with that fucking annoying grin tapping his finger.

Tap, tap, tap...

"For fuck's sake man, just say it already."

His voice made it sound like he was unveiling some new invention that made your dick triple in size, "Gambling sites."

God I hated him. It made sense. I could send the site money through PayPal, and then withdraw it to my pre-loaded debit card. I just had to make sure of all the particulars but... Technology is fucking amazing. To Hell with traditional laundering. This way I had a chance of possibly making money instead of losing a percentage.
Chapter 17

Like an ejaculated clump of cum falling from the top of the Empire State Building, the website gained momentum. By the time I was off work Friday night, a mere 24 hours after telling people about the site, I had $308. The site had grown from the original six to fourteen. And all I could do was curse myself for going shopping Thursday night instead of going out hunting. But there was still Friday and Saturday.

Of those two nights I was only successful in trapping a skank once. 3 out of 5, 60% success rate. Not bad, but none of the girls were from the top three and there were over two thousand sluts on campus. Yes, every girl is a slut. Fuck, everybody is a slut.

It was too much work and I was losing money. $483 by Sunday evening and it could have been so much more. That's when I incorporated a new feature for members, the bounty hunt. Members are loyal and if you let them they will almost run the site for you. Think of members as employees that pay you.

The bounty, any and every girl that was hot. The payment, free month of user access and a percentage of the video sales. The catch, no fucking one angle ball bouncing shots. Three angles and send them to me to edit. I fucking liked the editing part. People just don't know how to make fucking look good. Especially amateur shit.

It was a mother-fucking hit. Now the momentum was like a hundred guys ejaculating of the Empire State Building. It was raining cum. Sweet, sweet green cum. I had enough to pay my college fees within two weeks. Shit, I was even thinking about quitting my job. I was fucking ecstatic. But remember people, life is like a horny old man- it's just waiting for you to bend over so it can fuck you in the ass.

****

VIBBBBBB VIBBBBBBB VIBBBBBBB

Erica\- <Hey>  
Matt\- <What do you want?>  
Erica\- <Why do I have to want something? Don't be an ass>  
Matt\- <People only text or call when they want something>  
Erica\- <I can't just say hi>  
Matt\- <No. Not when you left saying you were done with me>  
Erica\- <You're my best friend Matt>  
Matt\- <Just ask what you want to ask>  
Erica\- <Fine. What are you doing next week?>  
Matt\- <Why?>  
Erica\- <I want you to come somewhere with me>  
Matt\- <Where>  
Erica\- <To the courthouse. Mike and I are going to get married>  
Matt\- < WTF? Seriously>  
Erica\- <Yes>  
Matt\- <Why the fuck would I ever come to that atrocious shit?>  
Erica\- <Because I want you to. Please>  
Matt\- <I don't want to watch you make a dumb mistake>  
Erica\- <It's not a mistake>  
Matt\- <Oh so you like being beat huh?>  
Erica\- <It's not like that. He's changed>  
Matt\- <You can change how you look on the outside but you'll always be the same loathsome piece of shit on the inside>  
Erica\- <Please Matt. I need you there>  
Erica\- <You're my best friend and the closest thing I have to a father>  
Erica\- <Please>  
Erica\- <You're the only person I have. Please>

****

"You need to forget about that heinous cunt." I watched the blood trail down from my mother's slit wrist as she filled up my whiskey glass.

"If it were that easy I would have done it long ago. She has-"

"Tits," she stated. "That's all a woman is. A pair of tits and ass with a wet pussy. There are billions of them."

"What wonderful feminism mom."

She shrugged, "I don't give a shit. Feminism shmeminism. Give a qualifier to anything you want, it's still the same thing. Men are just walking dicks and women are just walking pussies."

"I don't want to give her up."

"Therein lies the problem son. You have to want it."

"Well I don't."

"Then fucking do something, quit being a little bitch and actually do something. For fuck's same don't sit around with your dick in your hand."

Somehow she could always make me smile. "Why did you kill yourself mom?"

"Why not? Life fucking sucks."

"But," I felt the fag-like moistness of tears, "I thought we were having fun?"

She laughed, "You call sucking dick for crack fun." I remembered. It's funny how you forget fucked-up shit like that.

"Still, we had our own place and everything was going decent."

She sighed, "You were selling drugs and smoking crack right next to me. How the fuck was that decent?"

"I don't know."

"Look Matt, everyone has an expiration date. Sometimes the only power a person can exert is by taking their own life. It's all about what power you have and how you can use it."

Power. There is no such thing as oppression merely self-repression. If you want something you need power. I knew what I wanted and I knew what power I had.
Chapter 18

Waiting rooms were invented by Satan. I think Limbo would be just like the DMV. There you are waiting for your number to be called-- 23blue7orgasm-- and they are perpetually stuck on 6. A million forms and one old lady telling you that they aren't complete, and when you do complete them you did something wrong. Back to the fucking end of the line. That's if you ever get called.

Do you think people in Hell just accept their fate? Okay say that you do have a physical body. If it goes through physical torment and heals up again, why not just break free? How can they hold you if they can't kill you? Pain would be arbitrary in that situation.

Yeah people just accept their fate. If it was me, I would kick Satan in the Goddamned (See what I did there?) nuts and butt-fuck him. Maybe Hell is an endless cycle of people butt-fucking Satan...

There I was sitting on an extremely uncomfortable bench fucking waiting. Mike, Erica, and some douche that was Mike's friend. Yay weddings! I was actually happy though.

"Ugghhhh," Erica was fidgeting like she had to take a shit. "What is taking so long?"

Mike actually had a logical explanation, "We have to wait until it's our turn." Fucking duh right?

Apparently the same office that passed out ill-fated marriage licenses handled quite a bit. Courthouses are amazing. Fucking car tags, business taxes, and any other shit they could siphon off of you. They'd take your dick if they could.

"Next?" Like a fucking gong.

I watched them walk the mile. The mile to a livelihood of trailer parks and retarded children. Diabetes and heart attack. The destination that is the end of the cornbread-fed world. Glorious marriage. I watched my hope fade with her swaying ass. They were both dressed nicely. Then again, this is the closest stupid people get to a real wedding.

My asshole puckered for all of five seconds, I didn't want that paper signed. Then the door opened and four officers and two men in suits walked in. Like a massive dump I felt the weight lift.

Did you know that porn has escalated into a federal crime? It's not just child pornography that gets heavy crimes. There's also obscene porn, and the exploitation of people's privacy for profit. It's much worse when it's for profit.

"Mike Raylor?"

In that moment I wanted nothing more than a bowl of popcorn. His head swiveling around slowly, utter terror in his eyes. For a wannabe drug dealer any law official saying your name will make you piss your pants. He didn't say yes, but he didn't have to. They had been provided a picture and plenty of incriminating evidence.

"You are under arrest for exploitation and invasion of privacy with intent to distribute." Why do they say intent? It was definitely distributed. I still had $4,000 after paying for my semester.

"What?" His voice hit a high-pitch typically reserved for opera and when someone gets hit in the nuts.

It was hopeless, he really had nowhere to run. He was in the lion's den for the cliché. He looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing barely making a gurgling sound. He didn't have to be told to remain silent.

Watching Erica collapse in tears was probably one of the most painful experiences of my life. I had to believe that it would get better. Had to believe it was in her best interest as well as mine. I picked her up, so light and vulnerable, and left with her. She was mine.

****

People were fucking pissed. After word got out about the website, and the "fact" that Mike had started it, bitches were out for blood. Lawsuits on lawsuits. And the judge was an older woman who probably started feminism. They ended up letting it go to state, probably to make sure he got the stiffest penalty.

He cried like a little bitch. 15-20 years for one little site. I wish I could say I felt bad, but I didn't. Dude was a fucking douchebag and deserved to be ass-raped in jail. He was a pretty boy after all.

Yeah I'm fucked up, we've been over this. And you still wanted me to get my punishment. Sadistic bastard.

Good news, they were never married. Bad news, it had been over a month and Erica was still devastated. Watching him being tried and sentenced had really done a number on her. She didn't even cry, I don't think she had any tears left.

"Fuck!" This time I slammed my hand on the table and Henry jumped. "I think I fucked up big time."

"You think?"

"Fuck you Henry. This was all your plan anyway."

"But you agreed to it. Plus, hello! I'm fucking dead." I knew he was right, but it was easier to blame him than myself. "Look," he tried to seem comforting, "she'll get over it soon enough. All she needs is time." Don't we all? Now how was I supposed to get her?

"I say leave the bitch be," my mother's comforting words. "If she's that hung up on that faggot it's not even worth it."

"Stop thinking with your dick boy," my father gurgled through mouthfuls of water.

VIIBBBBB VIIIBBBBBB  
Erica\- <I'm sorry. I hope you have a good life. I love you>

Ice shot through me. What the fuck? I called, no answer. Again and again, still no fucking answer. Keys, door, car, gas. She lived ten minutes away and I had the pedal to the mother-fucking metal. I parked in her lawn and ran to the door. I knew something was wrong.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

No answer. I reared, back panic and adrenaline burning through the ice.

SLAM SLAM SLAM!

I was in, tore the door down by the fucking frame. "Erica! Erica!" Screaming like a maniac I ran through her apartment. Kitchen no, living room no, bedroom no. I stopped ice washing over me again. I found her...
Chapter 19

I stared at the flowing whiskey, the last bit in the bottle. The liquid way to tell the world to fuck off.

"You should go," my mother's voice was low. "You've worked so hard for this."

Worked hard for what? A degree? A piece of paper? Some Xeroxed receipt for tens of thousands of dollars' worth of self-mutilation?

"Think of everything you've done for this," my father's fucking gurgling.

Everything I've done? Everything I've fucked up? Every fucking God awful thing I could think?

"Do it for us," they echoed in unison. "Do it for Erica."

****

I was part of the herd, the fattened heifers milling about waiting to be slaughtered. One by one we trickled across the platform. Thank you. Thank you so fucking much for all the lack of sleep and unnecessary stress. Thank you for taking our money.

His hand was so fucking sweaty. Having to shake hundreds of people's nasty-ass hands will do that. Germaphobes beware. Just another gear in the machine. Names called and toilet paper given. The paper felt so light in my hand and I could actually measure futility.

So much fucking noise. It didn't matter, I had removed myself. It didn't matter. Everyone with their Goddamn families and loved ones, and there I stood alone. I scoured the audience, fucking dumbasses. Smiling like they hadn't paid to get raped.

Then I saw them, my mother and father. Not dead and gory as they always appeared, but clean and almost life-like. They were smiling. It made me smile. That fucking warm feeling. Fucking gay. They hugged and like the phantoms they were they disappeared. They had gotten what they wanted for now. Sentimental bullshit and all.

I couldn't listen to the cum-dribble anymore, fuck it. I had to leave. I got my paper, made my parents proud, and got a little of everyone else's cum on me. Fucking devoid. An empty husk.

"Congratulations," I heard Erica's voice call from ahead and pure joy coursed through me. She was waiting at my car and I ran like a little puppy to her.

I scooped her in my arms and planted a deep wet kiss on her soft lips. "Thank you."

"I'm so proud of you Matt. You've worked so hard." You know what? Yeah I fucking did. We piled in the car and she turned to me with the most beautiful smile, "Now what?"

I smiled and caressed her face, down her soft cheek to her neck. I paused and lightly touched the purple and black ring around her neck from the rope. The flash of finding her hanging from her ceiling creeping over me.

"Yeah man," Henry popped his head in from the back ruining the moment. "Where to?"

I smiled. My best friend and the girl I loved. We were all together, until the...

End

Oh I'm sorry. Did you want more of the day to day arbitrary bullshit?

100 bottles of whiskey, 10 uploaded videos, 20 slaps, 17 in-class masturbations and an uncountable number of dumbass conversations. Now, find some porn jerk-off and tell the woman you love just that. Don't be a pussy...

About the Author:

Connor Philips is a... You know what? Tired of fucking writing in third person when I'm talking about myself. It's fucking riDICKulous. Why can't I just say what I have to say in first person? Bullshit I say, Goddamn bullshit!

I'm a college student taking shits and masturbating like all the rest of you. Sucking the proverbial cock that is academia. Constantly being told what the rules of literature are and are not. Haunted by word counts and descriptions that tend to do nothing more than corrupt a story. That's why I'm in the FUK'd movement. Fuck the literary norm. Why the fuck does it matter if you still convey the story?

Stuffy bastards!

My advice, write what makes you want to cum in your pants. Oh yeah, and fuck any opinionated asshole that tries to tell you otherwise. And always live for love.

Yeah, I'm done- fuck it. Here's my fucking email:

fukdmovement@gmail.com

Oh yeah, and thanks to any unfortunate bastard that has read this far.
