What kind of sick bastard are you for reading this crap? Thank you!
Chapter four
Cathy slowly woke in the late morning to the whistling of Harry coming from the bath room. She rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but she just couldn't. With every little movement, she felt her aching muscles crying out for relief.
She called out to him, "Harry, would you please look in the medicine chest and get me some aspirin and a glass of water?"
He came sauntering into her bedroom, totally nude, wet, obviously just showered and said, "Hey, I ain't your fucking servant. Get it yourself. Anyway, moving around will help you feel better."
She was still tired, as she gazed at the man who had reached into her brain and made her aware of her most secret, nasty desires. He stood there in all of his naked glory, a man in his fifties, a huge pot belly, which folded over itself to create a roof for his crotch. His body was covered with black and gray hair to the extent that he looked like an old bear. Harry's filthy comments and over all vulgar way of addressing her had opened up a side of her that she didn't know existed. Cathy never would have guessed that she could be turned on by the vile things he had exposed her to the previous night.
She remembered licking his smelly armpits and belly, before taking his sweaty, stinking cock into her mouth and sucking him off, until he blew a load of cum down her throat. As she tried to envision what she had looked like when was she groveling at his feet, Cathy felt a stirring in her loins.
Dear God, she thought, it's true. I'm attracted to the grossest sexual behavior. I'm a closet slut and didn't know I had it in me. Still, she had to admit that she had never experienced such incredible pleasure in her entire life. She may have cum more than a dozen times last night; she had lost count. And how many cocks had she sucked on, and how much cum had she swallowed? She vaguely remembered crawling on her belly, as she sucked up the drops of white, creamy goo that men had shot on the floor. It further jogged her sex machine, when they laughed at her and called her names like whore, slut and pig, as Harry plowed into her asshole.
Harry was nearly dressed, when he shouted at her, "Hey cunt, stop playing with yourself. Why don't you get a shower? You'll feel better."
Cathy was embarrassed, because she didn't realized that she had begun to massage her wet pussy. She looked at him and asked, "Would you like me to lick your asshole and blow you?"
He shot back, "Naw, I gotta job lined up and it's good money; so I ain't gonna turn it down.
"You need to slow down kid, or you'll wear that thing out. Get cleaned up, and then get something to eat. It'll help to clear your head. Why don't you go through your clothes and find a few outfits that make you look like the slut you are. Then go hunting for some fun."
She gave him a pleading look, "But I thought that you were going to be here today, to help guide me."
He laughed. "You fucking cunts are all alike. Once I show you the door to a different world, you expect me to hold your damn hand, while some body fucks you. Listen kid, you did good last night. You found a new you. And you don't need me anymore, not after the show you put on."
Now she was troubled. "But I really don't know what to do."
His short temper flared, "God damn it, I introduced you to Wanda, I showed you Jimmie's adult store. Those are great places to find the kind of kink you're looking for. I gotta go sweet cheeks." He leaned over to her and kissed her on the forehead like a father, while his finger grabbed her pussy, and then he rammed three of his stubby digits into her. Her sharp intake of breath, as she arched her hips up to his probing hand, gave proof to the existence of the new, dirty Cathy.
Harry removed his fingers, wiped them on her stomach and waved good bye. "Aw shit!" she cried out. He was gone in a flash and she was now horny as hell. And in the absence of potential relief, her mind became aware of another problem. She was really feeling just how sore she was from last nights activities. Maybe a warm bath was called for.
As the hot sudsy water eased the considerable discomfort of her strained muscles and joints, Cathy tried to focus her thoughts on minor problems she was having at work and projects she had been putting off at home; but it was to no avail. Her sore jaw was a reminder of the many cocks which had plundered her face, and her sore elbows and knees were a reminder of the time she had spent sucking and fucking like an animal. Those thoughts always reminded her of her most humiliating and thrilling performance, when she groveled on her belly and licked the cum of strangers off of the floor. That mental image caused instant lust to throb in her loins.
Her fingers worked their way down to her wanton, hungry mound and began gently caressing the lips of her pussy. Her desire took over her thoughts and she imagined herself crawling on all fours as men jeered and cursed at her, as she sucked the scum from their balls, while sucking their cocks. It didn't take long for her to achieve an orgasm, yet the flavorless pleasure of doing it alone left her wanting far more than she could accomplish by herself.
She began to cry, as the realization set in that only by totally immersing herself in some crazy twisted scene, in front of and through the abuse of others, could she reach the heights of sexual bliss. She needed the same degree of stimulation, which she had attained the night before.
It was with depressing honesty that she uttered out loud, "Dear God, I'm a born slut. I was meant to be a woman who grovels before men and enjoys servicing their cocks with my mouth and cunt."
