I sat on a beach chair stroking my dick. It was nice. My dick liked the fresh air. I liked masturbating outside. The possibility of being caught reminded me of having sex at boarding school. In order to have sex at boarding school you would have to go into the woods or sneak into a classroom at night. Getting caught was easy. One time the entire track team discovered me naked leaning against a tree being spanked.
It had only been a year since I graduated from boarding school, and my memories of having sex there were still fresh. I could think back to them and get erection after erection. So there I was, sitting in a beach chair, rubbing my privates and searching my memory for material. The problem with tapping your memory for masturbation material is when you recall someone you miss. Most of the sex I had at boarding school was with Zoe. Thinking of her hurt as much as it was arousing. So I would try to think of other things. Like my seventh grade English teacher, and her huge breasts, and how they were covered in freckles. I would imagine her rubbing my face into them as a reward for being a good student. These thoughts would get me very aroused, but I could only keep them going for short periods of time. Once I got really turned on, I would have less control over my thoughts. Memories of being naked with Zoe would become all I could think of. Then, after I came, I would curl up into a fetal position wishing she was there.
My hand squeezed my penis hard. It made the head of my penis look purple and bruised. My hand let go, and my penis went back to normal. I decided to go inside. I walked into the house and then to my room. No one else was home. Everyone was at work. I didn't work. My father gave me money. My friends always told me that I needed to get a job. They told me if I got a job that I wouldn't be so depressed all the time. I couldn't see how routine and boredom could cure depression. On top of that, I was too lazy.
My bedroom was a mess. Books and clothes and other garbage carpeted my floor. I pushed some crap off my bed. There was still a picture of Zoë on my wall. Thinking of her hurt, but I couldn't cry. Crying left me in too heavy of a daze. I needed to jerk off.
The movie I put on was called "Nasty Sluts Chug Cock." It showed a variety of girls giving head to men that had strange bodies, ponytails, tattoos, shaved crotches and awkward facial expressions.
(There was one man with a particularly large dick. His balls were small and clung tightly to the end of his massive private part. I wanted to lick it. The task of fitting it all in my mouth seemed unimaginable. I just wanted to lick it, and have it press against my face. I'm sure he would hurt me. He would force me to put more of it down my throat than I could take. The idea of getting him to cum seemed exhausting. The girl in the video had incredible stamina. She worked it for longer than my neck, and jaw, could ever stand.)
This woman was beautiful. Her name was Desperate Debby. She had tremendous breasts. They hung in a way that is rare in porno. Most girls in porn have strange dome like breasts that wobble. Her best feature was her butt cheeks. They were well toned and dramatically changed shape as she moved. I was always a big fan of butt cheeks. The sight and feel of them had always enchanted me. Sure I like them big, and of course I like them firm, but really, I like any kind of butt. The only kind of butt I don't like are the flat wide butts secretaries always seem to have.
Desperate Debbie's tongue licked the tiny balls at the end of the behemoth's shaft. Her pale butt cheeks and swollen lips had filled my head, leaving no room for Zoë. She did amazing things with her mouth, things I would be lucky to ever experience. I tugged on my penis at a frantic pace. At one point clear fluid came out of my little hole. I knew what desperate Debbie would do if she were there. She would rub it on her lips, like it was Chapstick, and my penis would love the affection. The giant pulled out and came on Debbie's face. "mmm I love hot cum," she said to the camera. It dripped down from her forehead to her lips. She opened her mouth for the camera. A pool of cum gathered on her tongue.
My own cum covered my gut. I rubbed it into my skin, then pulled my shirt down. I still wanted Zoë lying next to me. The thought of Desperate Debby curled up next to me brought me no comfort. It was only comedy. I wanted Zoë's head pushing into my neck, while one of her long legs rests over mine. I wanted her smell. What was she doing right now? Was she with another guy? Thoughts of her sucking some guy's dick hurt my stomach. I needed food. Eating food always seemed to shift focus.
I only had six dollars, and it needed to go toward cigarettes. There was no money for food. The video was still playing. A Hispanic girl sucked on one penis while she fondled another mans balls. I thought again about Zoë going down on another guy. My stomach felt worse.
The kitchen was poorly kept. My dad was constantly lending me money, and I couldn't even wash the dishes. I felt pathetic. My father was a nice man. I had graduated from high school, and moved back home. He lived in a cottage with his new wife and let me live in the house I grew up in. We lived in an expensive neighborhood on the east end of Long Island. It must have cost him plenty to have me live there. My home wasn't as lavish as most of the houses in town, but it was a nice one story house with a decent yard and a pool, all of which I had let go to shit.
On top of all that, he let me have whomever I wanted to, live there as well. I was in charge, and I couldn't even do the dishes. My father deserved a better son. I tried to do the dishes. I washed a couple. My stomach needed food, so I stopped.
There was bread, and there was cheese, but no butter. I put the cheese between two slices of cheap bread, and then threw the combination in the microwave. The cheese melted quickly. I ate the sandwich, and my stomach felt a little better. The dishes still needed to be washed, but I just couldn't get myself to go near them. Instead I called my friend Lauren.
Lauren came over at about ten, with a twenty-four pack of cheap beers. We talked about sex. We always talked about sex. It seemed to be a subject we were both obsessed with. She had a new boyfriend. She always had a new boy friend. The newest one was forty years old. The night before he had video taped them having sex. The idea of a forty year old mans cock touching an eighteen-year-old girl disgusted me, but it also made me horny. Things that disturbed me always seemed to make me horny.
I kept asking questions about her new lover. By the end of the conversation I knew him in a way that I'm sure few men did. His dick was thicker than it was long. It occasionally made Lauren loose control of her limbs. He was a skinny guy who got jealous easily. One guy got too close to Lauren, and he took the guy out by swinging a beer bottle into his throat. After he came he liked to act like a baby. She would hold his gangly body in her arms, and he would make baby noises, and then pretend to suckle milk out of her nipples. What kind of disturbed freak had Lauren discovered? Regardless of the bizarre nature of the relationship, she seemed to be having fun. Meanwhile I was masturbating to cheap porn whenever I felt sad. I was in no position to critique anyone's relationship. Sex was good, and she had it a lot.
"Bobby, have I showed you my new tattoo?" she asked.
"No you haven't."
It was on her butt. She put her torso on the kitchen table. I pulled her skirt up. There was no under wear, only skin. I like that kind of surprise. The tattoo ran across both of her butt cheeks. She had great butt cheeks. They were round in just the right way. On her right cheek was a bumblebee with a naked woman on its back. The woman carried a shield in one hand, and a machine gun in the other. Bullets came out of the gun and went from one butt cheek to the other. On the left butt check was a man in a tux bleeding to death.
"She's killing corporate America." She told me. "My boyfriend designed it."
Tattoos never did much for me. Too many people had too many ridiculous tattoos, and no one told anyone what they really thought of them.
"I like it." I told her. "It's very original."
I leaned closer to the tattoo, and then I sniffed what scent I could pick up. The funk was there. It was the smell of a combination of vagina and ass. I needed a beer. All I wanted to do was take her, but couldn't. She didn't want to. Even though she had her ass in my face, I could tell that she didn't want me in her.
My friend Scotty walked in at about eleven. He was a tall kid with a stupid goatee and a stupid pony tale. He gave me a big hug. "Aw Bobby man, how have you been?" He asked even though he lived in my basement, and I had just seen him earlier that day.
