Edens Laundromat

In a month he went from being a king in Florence to complete self degradation, rotting for hours on end in front of a computer screen. It's astonishing how his mind is still able to conjure sexless thoughts. At the laundromat, he peels back his cap, severs some cords and throws the pink matter into a washing machine; the one in the corner, with the picture of a G-String getting swallowed by two hungry butt cheeks taped to the circular window. He needs someone to lift him out of this rut. The restless porn binging he was slave to during his adolescence was making a harsh comeback.

However things were different this time around. He was fit now. Still twiggy in a sense but these branches were more defined. Never was in a fight but looked like he could provide some security now. His mom was proud of him now. He had friends, he fucked women. There was cool in him, people noticed it, he knew it. And yet, he wanted more. The women he fucked were good women. A good women is one that needs to get comfortable with you before she allows you to stick it in her asshole. A bad women leaves all holes always open for business. I truly mean 24 hours. "Even if she's sleeping, flip her over like a patty and just start stabbing at it till that special sauce is ready," a Don Juan once told me. She doesn't discriminate; a cock is a cock, white, black, or yellow.

Eden believes it's unfortunate what this society does to these women. "We put these whores on blast while we should be putting them on a pedestal. Any nymphet that goes savage when she sees a cock is a queen in my book. It's the ones that don't appreciate the image of a nice cock that are devil-spawned."

This has been Edens battle. His mind doesn't compute the monogamist dynamic anymore. Eden's the type to scarf down an entire cornucopia featuring this forbidden fruit, all the while getting condemned by god. He'll eat the fruit straight out of Eve's asshole.

This is why he goes to the laundromat and peels back his skull cap. Addicted to women with whorish aesthetic and mannerisms. He's conjured many ways to get by with his addiction, even "live graciously" with it as he says. It's been chasing him since he was an adolescent, only 11 at the time when he first stepped through that door.

There are a couple ways one can attempt to keep a slut-wife tamed. The most sensible solution would be swinging. This is a win-win situation; he gets to watch his wife getting her brains fucked out by an eager newcomer while he himself gets to excavate someone else's property. Vacations may consist of all out fuck-fests on kinky cruise ships and dancing naked on the beach, Hedonism II. That's the life he dreams about in many ways. But "The way dreams make you feel don't always match up in reality," he worries.

Eden is not a weak man. He's also not a soulless man. He's quite territorial and doesn't tolerate when individuals outside his circle mess with his mates. His personality conflicts with his lustful desires. He worries about getting close to a women before landing bedside with her, her orgasmic moans piercing his eardrum; in a scenario that is fixed no more! The dick becomes a variable, some other brut is digging her out. These moans aren't yours anymore. According to your monkey brain she's not yours anymore. The only thing you have to fall back on is reasoning and there might be too much emotion in the air for it to save you.

Too strong to be a cuck, too weak to avoid the temptations of the laundromat. How is a place like this legal? It's changing the dynamic of sex everyday. I worry that if this place closed down without warning Eden would start handcuffing women to poles midday. Eden is conscious of all this. He stares at the next man. On the basis of his physical traits and composure, pictures that man in the portrait of a great general! Instead this victim, slave to desire, spends his days erupting into the void; defined by a false sense of bliss, vegetating while his noggin gets tossed around a metal bucket.

Tomorrow I have arranged for Eden to see a therapist. A pink jewel will be situated just outside her tight little asshole. His nature won't allow him to hold back; he will take the fixture out and skillfully replace it with his own fleshy plug as if he was pulling off the diamond heist of the century. Tomorrow she will attempt to rinse out a mind tortured by years of brainwash.