On Saturday we handed out MISSING flyers for Nikol’s son who ran away. Hundred and six degrees in the valley; heat-angry people think you’re trying to sell them something when you walk up and say excuse me. I’m a bad person. An old woman stiffarmed me and said “sorry.” I yelled after her: you’ll die alone, you leathery old cunt. Not interested, said a fat bald man. Like no one will ever be interested in you, you fat disgusting bald sack of shit. I’m in the right here, I reasoned. I’m trying to find a lost child for Christ’s sake. No one will take a swing at me because I’m tall and I lift weights a lot. Continue reading
She’s freaking out because I went down to Tijuana with El Chuco and fucked a bunch of street whores. Get tested, she tells me. Sent me an article where six per cent of them have HIV. Well, I like those odds. Plus, they’re fastidious about condom use. They’re fastidious about every fucking thing; blowjob is extra, getting them to take their god damn top off is extra. Otherwise they just awkwardly jerk you off until you have a half pipe with enough structural strength to get the jimmy on, and crouch on top of you in a full sweater set. They don’t want to look in your eyes. You have to hold their face to get a glimpse of what you assume will be despair, and it turns out they’re trying not to laugh. They’re all nineteen and they all have kids. My baby is six years old and he learn to play the guitar. Good, I tell her, good. Get him started this young and he’ll be great when he’s older. Que? I realize she only has one English sentence memorized to tell Americans. Why make it about your kid then. Continue reading
Previously on Passions:
William Z. “Billy” Krojcek of Sherman Oaks needed you to laugh at his small cock while he peed in a diaper. On his back with garbage bags spread over the bed. He would greet you at the door in his adult baby getup. Go to the bedroom, open the diaper, he pees, and you laugh at his tiny little willie. Maybe blow on it soothingly. While he’s pissing he gets hard; hopefully the piss all comes out before this happens but more often, not. The fundamental flaw in piss fetishes is, it’s hard to piss with a boner. Piss would go all over the place, then he’d jerk himself off while you cooed at him and pop in two seconds. The rest of the hour they’d talk. Billy was a teacher; he gave good advice regarding her son’s education. Don’t let them push him out of the honors math class. Have him retake the test in the school library without other students and distractions, say it’s his right as a student with a learning disability. Sometimes he would feel it coming on again at the end, put down fresh bags, don a fresh diaper, start anew. Her cooing and giggling and saying “it’s SO SMALL!!!! No woman is even gonna be able to feel that when you grow up! I’m gonna tickle those tiny little pink balls!” Not in a mean way. In a motherly way. He would cum again, sometimes so fast his boner was half strangled and cocked to the side, barely hard before puking up thick gouts of smelly jizz. Thank you so much, you’re really wonderful. I’ll call you again next week.
Raymond R. “Ray” Jimenez Jr. of Los Angeles needed her to pantomime shrinking him with a shrink ray. Then she would talk like he was six inches tall and crawling all over her body, into various crevices. Talk like she couldn’t see where he was and might step on him, squash him. Then he got a blowjob. She didn’t understand how this didn’t crush his suspension of disbelief, but, she was just the help. He would be so hard from the oh no I’m gonna squish you talk that he too would cum in seconds. Her blowjobs were also, as you would expect, excellent. Imagine if they hadn’t been. A life wasted. The aptly named Ray was less talkative. Or maybe the roleplay was so talky that he was just talked out. Why, she wondered, didn’t he buy a toy gun to stand in as the shrink ray. Sucking dick isn’t a big deal but standing there with a straight face holding an invisible gun and saying “ohmigod you’re getting SOOO SMMMALLLL–” she earned her check. I’ll call you next week. Continue reading
Previously on Passions:
The thing about whores is they don’t feel like fucking. Whores feel like the best and most expensive sex toy ever devised. Like you just paid a hundred bucks to jerk off. There is nothing in the pleasure of a whore you can take with you. No memory. It exists only in the moment.
She was kneeling over his back, ticking him with her hair. She looked exactly like a girl from his high school. Cathy Chao. Cathy Chao was tall, like a model. She had a face like a model too. Everybody wanted to fuck her. The first time you saw her you would choke as little like you’d swallowed a bug. But hard to jerk off to. One of these women where you can’t beat off to her because she is too beautiful. You can’t conjure up a scenario where she might fuck you plausibly. You end up beating off more to the chubby girls than the beautiful ones. She ended up marrying some Persian MBA and then leaving him for his boss.
This hooker looked just like her. She looked just like her in high school, not whatever used up version of her existed now. He choked when she walked in the room like he had swallowed a bug. He suddenly felt self conscious lying there nude with a coarse bleached towel over his nuts. She was all smiles. She had no idea. Maybe she thought he was new at this. She gestured for him to flip over. Continue reading
I used to do coke for three days at a time and then crash by compulsively masturbating for hours. I used to roll around with my degenerate buddies in the back of a pickup truck, fucked up on pills, throwing homemade pipe bombs at people’s houses. I dated a crackhead and was engaged to a needle junkie. I impregnated one girl who miscarried on heroin and another, a daughter of one of my professors, who was fifteen years old. I went to a mental institution after threatening to jump out the window of my fiancee’s apartment. I took 50 10-mg. ritalins in one night. I resuscitated a guy from a heroin overdose in my house by giving him CPR; he had been eating coffee grounds for some reason and he vomited them when he awoke. It looked like potting soil. I fell off my bike and ripped off my entire thumb; it had to be surgically reattached. My girlfriend overslept when we had a date and I reacted by kicking her car over and over, leaving dozens of huge dents. I often had the chance to fuck hot girls but I was impotent from cocaine so I would pretend that I wanted to stop for emotional reasons. I only ever devirginized one chick but I came from the tightness when I got it halfway in– so I pretended, again, that I wanted to stop for emotional reasons. She was menstruating so I don’t think she noticed my nut. I made out with a man a couple times. I have fucked prostitutes on several occasions and in fact barebacked one repeatedly. I had a medical condition that would cause me to shit myself at work. My left nut is the size of a fist. The first time I ever masturbated, I thought that it was something no one had ever accomplished before and that I would be renowned as a great genius for discovering it. I fucked a three hundred pound woman. I once fucked a hooker doggystyle with a hemorrhoid coming out of her butthole. I jerked it a bunch to horse porn, and a couple times to a Japanese chick getting fucked by a boston terrier.
Anyway, good morning.