Weekend Journal: One More for the Road

30 May

Ardea alba

She was a thick black chick and her cunt smelled like celery. Thicker than her pictures but I’m so thirsty I’d fuck a possum carcass. We met by the duck pond. She was leaving town that night. Whatever showed up, I was fucking it.

Now my bed smells like celery. There are pustules on my crotch. Not near my dick. Way off to the left by my inguinal crease. If I get some infection, fine. As long as it’s something condoms wouldn’t have prevented. Because then it’s like: what are you gonna do. I promised myself I’d never wear a condom again. After the Philippines. I put my bare dick in whores, in a country where the average net worth is a chicken. Came back, paid extra for the full bore VD panel. Nothing.

STDs don’t exist. Not for people like me. Every guy I know with herpes has five to eight lifetime partners. Got it from his Brown University econ major fiancee. Guys like me who creampie Throw Momma from the Train against a bar urinal with half a piss soaked pizza slice in it: nothing. Sewer rat immunity. These whiteheads are just a rash from her filthy summer cunt sweat.

She studied zoology. Knew a little about ducks. We saw mallards. They mate for life, she said. It’s romantic. Well yeah, but they also gang rape corpses. Look it up; it’s true.

We walked around the pond holding hands. There are no girls there anymore. It’s all families. 17 year old Mexicans and 45 year old whites walking with their 3 year old kids. Wheezing French bulldogs. Is there more than one kind of egret at this pond, she said. I perked up for a minute. A great egret stalked fish in the reeds, but I couldn’t see whatever else she was talking about. There’s a blue crowned night heron somewhere, I said. But she was looking at double crested cormorant. I pointed out the one pair of American coots left after the migration. They’re an interesting duck, she said. Well no. They’re part of the rail family. Jesus Christ, there’s no hope for anyone.


This is an attractive woman’s ass and crotch

We got back where we started, by the lily pads. Two male mallards were trying to rip another one’s neck open with their rough snail crushing beaks. They got on top of him and held his neck underwater, screaming. Drive me home, I said.

I’d jerked off five times that morning and couldn’t cum. Had to say I needed a break. Pull out, go limp, rub her ass a little and look at her fat purple pussy so I could picture it. After that I put it in half soft and pumped for fifteen seconds until I shot hot ropes in her navel like a machine gun. She must have been ovulating. Ten awkward minutes and she left.

Sunday I went to a barbecue at a porno shoot. The best looking girl was half black. That’s why Monday I needed to fuck a black stranger from the internet. Director was an old guy; he was in Vietnam in the navy. He saw body parts float past his boat in the Gulf of Tonkin and it meant nothing. You could get a meal and a beer and fuck for five dollars, he said. If one guy caught the clap his buddies would all fuck the same girl out of solidarity. We were nineteen, he said. What are you gonna do.


Corn ‘n’ Porn

I shouldn’t have done it. I’m meant to be past this. But if you don’t fuck for too long your spine starts to hunch. Your eyes get nervous and you smell like a leper. Your face looks stupid and your job starts to matter. What if I met my future wife but I was like that. She’d look at me like an insect. I can’t take that chance.

7 Responses to “Weekend Journal: One More for the Road”

  1. Pat Pong May 30, 2015 at 10:58 am #

    I’ve had gonorrhea twice. Once from a black hooker on heroin and the other time from a slutty Mexican single mother.

    I also have herpes. I think I got that from a really slutty white girl who hooks sometimes, but I’m not sure.

  2. Zelcorpion May 30, 2015 at 12:39 pm #

    Funny. Good stuff.

  3. Anal Trauma May 30, 2015 at 3:18 pm #

    You’d fuck a snake with an infected asshole. That is depressing. You should be past this at your age. You’re too skinny. You look ill. Good looking women like men with a bit more beef and large muscles. Stop giving yourself away to trash. Take up an addictive pastime like fly fishing – you’ve now got the car to reach those rivers and creeks. Will add flavour to your writing. A Houellebecqian Hemingway. Could be a new genre. Start boxing – violence is a rush.
    Besides the above, I strongly suggest you ingest your own semen.

    Serving Suggestion Only.

  4. jiminy cricket May 31, 2015 at 2:46 am #

    you ever get tested for something called mycoplasma?

    i’d never even heard of it before three months ago. bane of my fucking life now.

  5. lolz June 1, 2015 at 5:19 pm #

    The clap sucks. Got it 3 or 4 times. I still dont use condoms. Black pussies are pretty nice. Too bad about their awful hair and faces and hands and feet and everything and their selves.

  6. “We walked around the pond holding hands.”

    You’ve written some reprehensible shit in the past, but this is just beyond the fucking pale. You really are subhuman garbage.

    • Anonymous June 4, 2015 at 4:00 pm #

      ^this fucking guy

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