A young man engages in sex with 31 different women before fallling into the dark, gay underworld.

It is Friday.

No scorecard tonight.

Charlene is off work and on her way over to my place. I have the camera system from Electronic City set up in both my bedroom and living room. It is a cheap ass black and white unit, but we’ll see what it does. At nine sharp, Charlene is at my door. A true vision of perfection.

Black, shiny tall boots, faded nearly white jeans, sparkly tight white tee shirt. Small pink jacket. No bra. Nipples up, it is cold outside. Hot smoke, she looks good. She drops her purse on the floor and we get to it. Necking, two starving dogs. Good looking dogs, though.

She was exactly my height with the four inch heels. Actually, she was an inch taller. I had to look up to her. When this fact arrived in my cortex, a tingle ran through my balls. I knew right then I would be servicing her for most of this session. I felt loose, sort of weak, hard to describe. She would be the boss tonight.

We broke our embrace and took seats on the living room couch. I excused myself, slipped into the bedroom and fired up my recorder. The living room recorder was already running. Then back out to the kitchen. A bottle of Irish Creme, two glasses and some ice. Back into the living room. Charlene had her jacket and shirt off.

Hungry bitch, wasn’t she?

I poured the booze into the glasses, handed one to her. Staring at her tits. Not large, but perfect. She chugged her drink, I chugged mine. I was excited. This was all going to be captured on video. The spike heeled boots, the tight jeans, the perfect tits, the long hair reaching down to her ass. I took her hand, guiding her up from the couch. She looked taller with her shirt off. Why?

I twirled her around; she was thrilled to show off the hot body.

What was on her lower back?

I could see four colored stars. One red. One blue. One green. One yellow. There must be a fifth star twinkling below those jeans. Because this was definitely, a five star girl.

I escorted her to the bedroom. Dimmed the lights, but not all the way. I needed to see her, all of her, and I needed the camera to see her. I felt a twinge of guilt because of the cameras. Damn, I liked this girl. I think my plan to turn her over to Danny was done. The five star ass sealed the deal. Sorry Danny, I did yours, but you aren’t doing mine.

I lay her back on my king size bed. Peeled off her boots. Her jeans. A bit of a chore, but a fun chore. Those jeans had been sprayed on. Underneath those jeans was a black leather some-thing. Some type of underwear. Charlene laughed as I tugged the black boots back on her. I hoped the camera was getting all of this. Her skin was smooth; the contrast with her boots and the panty thing was awe inspiring.

I crawled between her legs. Immediately, the pheromones crashed against me. My tongue was out and I was only at her knees. I began to pant and sweat, I needed this bad. I needed cunt. Her cunt. Wanted it. Would have begged for it. Could have, would have said please, if she made me.

Her hands were suddenly in my hair, pulling me forward. My face hit her pussy square on. Actually, the material thing pretending to be underwear. My tongue went out and tasted leather. My cock leapt in my pants. I sucked and mouthed away at the leather thing. Her wetness was coming through. I pushed the leather thing around with the tip of my tongue, then was able to enter her. She was wet and ready. Within seconds she was moaning.

“Right……fucking………there!” she said.

Her breathing was heavy. The words were difficult.

She had two more.


I kept the pressure on her spot. I felt a low frequency electrical impulse at the tip of my tongue. Another new experience. My tongue seemed to be numbing as the electrical impulse grew. How weird was this?

She let go of my hair and grabbed at the blanket on the bed. She intensified her moaning as the electricity built up in my tongue. She was tearing at the blanket, her moaning was now speech. Words in some language yet to be invented. Bad Klingon or something. Her legs weren’t moving, but her ass and core were quivering. I kept the pressure where she had said, not exactly sure what was happening here. Her smell was overpowering my senses. A flood of hot wet came with the smell. Along with the guttural scream of an ancient animal.


Frightened wasn’t the word, but shaken was. I was about to pull away when a vice grip of two hands grabbed my skull and began to grind my face deep into her pussy. If I didn’t get my cock off the bed, it would blow under my body weight.

When did I get hard?

I tried to crawl up onto my knees. Charlene wrenched my neck as she twisted my mouth deeper. I inhaled and nearly suffocated on her wetness. She continued her loud, scary animal sounds, grinding out orgasm after orgasm, bucking at my face. I sucked at her pussy, sucked hard. Taking in her wet ejaculation, swallowing it down my throat. On her hardest buck, I began to squirt in my pants. I pounded the bed, squirming as my load shot out.

We both collapsed. She was soaked from head to toe. An outrageous, orgasmic flop sweat. I was soaked as well, my crotch hot and sticky and wet. I gasped for air, finally free of her wet furnace. The pheromones were thick in the room. Musty, damp and pungent. By the time our heart rates had settled, the fragrance called ‘Sex by Charlene’ had restarted my cock.

My pants came off, then my shirt, finally my gooey underwear. I crawled up over her, mounting her face. I lifted her head, stuffed a couple of pillows behind her neck. Slid my cum covered knob into her mouth.

“Mmmm,” she murmured.

Great. She loves cum. She loves my cum.

Charlene licked and sucked at the cum, then swallowed and began to work my knob. I pushed slowly in, then pulled back out. Yes, she was good at this as well. I wrapped my arms around her legs, pulling her boots up in the air. I could see her beautiful heels and watch her suck my cock at the same time. Was I ever going to pound her wet pussy. Pound it, jackhammer it. Obliterate the hot leather panty thing.

I began to fondle the outside of her boots. When the strange sensation of lightness and weakness began to come over me again. What the fuck was it?

I ran my fingers over her heels. I wanted to lick her heels. To lick her boots. To suck on her heels. To have her step on me, grind on me. Beat me.

The pressure on my cock was hot and wet and powerful. As if a Shop Vac had swallowed me. I was ready to shoot down her throat.

I had to fuck her first.

I dropped her legs down on the bed and pulled out of her mouth, leaving her gasping and wanting. I slid back to mount her, but I slipped too far on the bed and ended up face down be-tween her boots. I crawled up over her, and got whacked in the head with her smell. I stopped right there, knowing I wasn’t going to fuck her tonight. Her pussy scent was not going to allow me to get away.

I fell back in, face first. She was sopping. This time I got my hands under her ass. I was going to do her my way. I pulled her ass up, lifting her legs and boots into the air. I pushed back on her legs until her boots hit the head board.

Now bitch, who is the boss?

She was the boss, because I was servicing her.

Not even going to fuck her.

My cock began to twitch. I lifted up on my knees. This forced her further back on the bed. Forced her to spread open for me. I buried my face in deep, probing with the magic tongue. The poor girl was pouring out all over my face. The moaning began, and then the crazy language. My cock was twitching, despite being free and untouched.

Her mad hands found my hair and her fingers tangled. She yanked me deep into her pussy. Her powerful legs surrounded my skull, locking me in place.

Who was the boss now?

She was.

She began to buck as her crazy language morphed into guttural sounds. Her pussy and my face were one as she wrenched against me. We were a giant facefuck ball, primitive and wet. I thought about the power she had. The tall girl in the black heeled boots with the amazing arm and leg strength. The power of the ages, the power of the orgasm. For once, woman ruled man. I loved it. Absolutely loved it. Loved being dominated by this chick. In fact, my unfettered, untouched cock began to spurt, not from anything else but my mind. Wow. This was truly my first mind fuck. Charlene came right then, over and over and over again.

Once more we collapsed, in the facefuck ball, her tight thighs around my skull. I simply fell into her pussy and breathed her in. Drank her in. Ate her in. Beaten. Dominated. Defeated.

Before this night ended, I might actually fuck her.

It wasn’t to be.

There was one more eating session, this one lasted nearly an hour. She came. I came. I came for the third time, eating from her mighty pussy. Unreal. The next morning video show was a grainy, shit quality movie. Cheap, big box, no name equipment. However. The action was amazing. What a porno movie. Damn, people would pay to see this stuff. A big powerful guy being totally schooled by this chick. Owned by this chick. Doing nothing but servicing this chick. The perfect skin and the black boots. Too much.

No, I did not actually have my cock in her.

No, I never did find the fifth star.

Not on this date.

I would though.

No entry on the scorecard tonight.

If there had been an entry, it would have read Charlene, ten. Charlene, twenty.


Before I hit the play button, I struggle with yet another string of thought. Could my fast fading memories and uncharacteristic behavior be drug induced? Did the pissed off bartender spike my drinks? I didn’t think so. At least not the first night. He wasn’t pissed off at me until after I paid him. Twenty bucks cash for a twenty buck drink. No tip.

He might have been pissed at me when I showed up the second time. In nearly six hundred bucks worth of brand new leather and boots. Six hundred bucks for the gear and too cheap to tip. Exactly what his brain would have been telling him. I had watched Mr. Fag Bartender make my second drink, for no other reason than he was good at his job. The bartender had nothing up his sleeve. The glass came up empty from beneath the bar. The ice came from a bucket on top of the bar. The five shots of vodka directly from the bottle. The mixer came from a quart carton of brand name juice. The orange wedge was dipped in a bowl of sugar before being dropped into the big glass. Presto.

Twenty bucks, plus a five buck tip. Twenty-five per cent tip on the drink, or twelve and a half per cent tip for this drink, and twelve and a half per cent tip for the drink two weeks ago. The problem of the angry bartender was solved.

I couldn’t have been drugged because nothing else went in my mouth. Stop it. Except for Stevie’s tongue and Stevie’s cock. Unless one of those two things was laced with drugs.

It wasn’t drugs.

Perhaps it was the ‘other’ thing. The ‘other’ thing, the gay thing. A faggot. A cocksucker. A ‘bottom’, as the fag world called it. A male who gains sexual satisfaction by kissing, sucking off and being fucked by another male. A male who achieves ejaculation by engaging in any of the above mentioned acts. A true homosexual.

Wouldn’t I be excluded from such a definition? I mean, the thirty-one chick record and the fifty plus before would totally discount the ‘I am gay’ theory. Right? Because fags did not fuck women. They couldn’t. They were hard wired not to fuck women. Or cross-wired, might be a better term. Actually, mis-wired, would be the best term for the diseased ones.


How many chicks in the last year, buddy boy?

Well, none.

How many simple dates in the last year?

I can count them on one hand.

Can’t seem to get the fire going. I am working on my problem.

Oh, are you? How? By becoming a faggot?

I take another long pull on the bottle. The heat burns all the way down my throat. I shift in my leather pants on my leather couch. The leathers crackle as they friction each other. Time to stop thinking and start the show.
I hit the play button.

The movie starts. The camera is a bit unsteady. Whoever is operating the camera is seeking a solid purchase, probably on a tripod or on the mattress top. I can see two guys close together. Only their midsections. They must be near to the camera lens. I can make out two pairs of leather pants. The pants are crushed together at the front, crotch on crotch. I breathe in. I can see the bulges in both of the actor’s pants. Because thus far, there are no faces. The two leather boys are actors. Sounds okay to me.

My own pants are bulging as well. I can feel it, but don’t want to look. I am mesmerized by the extremely personal, yet anonymous porno movie playing on my TV set.

Hands flash across asses, pulling and tugging. The room is a little brighter.

I get it now, smack between the eyes. Stevie was turning up the lights to get a better picture for his camera man. Very nice set up, Stevie. With me as the victim. Touche, you bastard.

Stevie is on his knees. In front of me. I don’t remember this at all.

Did he? Did he actually do it?

His thin, long fingers are on my zipper. He is looking up at me, wetting his lips. His fingers tug down, then open my button. My pants are pulled off my ass. The lights brighten further. It isn’t Stevie working the lights. It must be the camera operator, with a damn remote control. Room one twenty-nine must be the set up room for this video taping bullshit. Assholes.

My thick cock is out, bare and throbbing.

“Holy fuck!” I say aloud.

My cock is giant. Enormous. Thick and veined. The camera zooms in. The glorious knob is full and throbbing. Taking up the whole TV screen. My shaft is twitching. Jesus Murphy. I thought the guys in porno had big dicks. I was looking at the king of all television dicks. I guzzled from the bottle. More hot poison ran down my throat.
It must have something to do with filming and camera angles. Anorexic chicks appear full bodied on the big screen, Cameron the dog Diaz comes to mind. Normal chicks appear thick on the big screen, the news and weather girls. Then there is the queen. Oprah. Oprah on the big screen. Huge. Same as my cock. Huge on the big screen.

Wow. I might have a career in porno.

The quality of this video is much better than the crap I had set up in my place.

The camera blurs as Stevie the fag stands up. Shit. What a downer. He didn’t blow me after all. I never did get even. I never did get the redemption I went in for. I sure as hell didn’t parade around in my new outfit, tempt the faggots, laugh at them, and walk out. Both parts of the mis-sion had proved to be terrible failures.

The camera blurs again, and then backs out. The blurring was me, settling on the bed. Pants off, stomping boots off. Completely naked. Stevie pushing my knees apart. One hand holding a tube, the other hand receiving the contents. His wet hand moved to my ass, rubbing, probing.

The camera shifts to my face.

Oh shit!

My face. There it is.

A little blurry, then the definition kicks in. Wait a damn minute. My face. Shot from above. A camera in the ceiling. Really? Wasn’t that a smoke detector? Hell, all of the cameras. Is this not a lawsuit in the making? Breach of privacy? Yes, what a great idea. Sue the bastards in a public court of law. Have the video played to prove it was indeed me being victimized. Let the judge and jury and gallery see me in all my legal glory. I would probably win the case. Yes, I am I sure would.

What a loser.

Up until now, it had been an anonymous fag getting prepped by another anonymous fag. Suddenly, my face was on the screen. Identifiable. Clearly identifiable. God damn. My eyes were wide open, probably wondering what was going on with my ass.

I see myself trying to prop up on elbows. Out of nowhere, a slap across the head, I get sent back to the cot, hard.

Jesus! Nasty, you little cunt.

The memories are snaking back. I look shocked, angry and determined in the video. I push back up onto my elbows. From out of camera range his full fist tags my mouth. Blood splatters as my head cranks back against the mirror wall.

Fuck me!

A full out punch. I looked stunned in the video. I fumble for the clicker and push pause. The bottle is at my mouth. I am drinking. I look at the bottle. Half of it is gone. I sense the throbbing in my pants. The leather bulge is impressive.

What the hell is going on here?

Am I getting horny watching myself being beaten up?

How sick?

I hit the play button and toggle up the volume. Christ sakes, Stevie is pulling me upright by the hair! His blue bottle is in my nose. I can hear muffled dance music in the back ground, and I can hear the pump being activated in my nostrils.

“Suck it in deep, Davey boy,” I hear Stevie say.

Loud and clear. Great. We have audio.

Davey boy? Who the fuck is Davey boy, I wonder?

I hit pause, and rewind. Then push play.

“Suck it in deep, Davey boy,” I hear again.

I hit pause and rewind. I take another drink, then cap the bottle and lean it on the couch. Since I am not this Davey boy, I will role play a little here.

I take my own brown bottle which I have not touched for two weeks, remove the top, and ‘suck it in’. I inhale through both nostrils, long and deep. As per instructions, I hold it in until I can’t breathe. Slowly exhale. I recap the bottle and sit it on the couch. I wait for the throbbing to start in my head. In my groin.

I hit play again.

“Suck it in, Davey boy, suck it in deep. Be a man.”

Okay, I have done it. Nice and deep. I am a man. Role playing as this Davey boy character. Experiencing whatever comes next for him. In this ultimate porno movie.

Davey boy’s eyes begin to flutter. I can see him floating into surrender. I feel the exact same sensation. I am sliding down on my green leather couch. Losing myself. My eyes want to close but I don’t want to miss the screen action.

I can’t miss the screen action.

Something in my brain knows it is me.


The dog collar is being place around the faggot’s neck. Holy shit. Not again. Better watch out for the Pit Bull Man. Stevie violently tosses the fag back against the bed. The fag’s head bounces up and down. Stevie is moving his hand quickly. The hand is dripping with grease and is on the fag’s exposed ass.

“One finger,” Stevie coos.

Holy fuck. Stevie is fingering the guy. The camera is completely focused on the ass action.

“Two fingers, girl,” I hear Stevie say.

My own cock is throbbing as one with my skull. I can barely keep my eyes open. My lids are heavy with surrender. Passion. Sickness. I fight to keep watching. This is too good to miss.

“Three fingers,” I hear next.

I moaned aloud. In my condo. On my couch. What an asshole. My role playing skills are better than I thought. Any second, my cock is going to burst through my pants. I reach down and fondle my own leathered bulge. Suddenly, Stevie punches the prone fag square in the face!

My cock stretches against my pants, screaming for release. I manage to find the clicker and push pause. The pounding in my head is subsiding. Not my cock. This is nuts. This is way too real. This role playing shit.
I pull myself back up to my original sitting position on the couch. Shit. I had been nearly prone. I was being the fag in the video.

I move the footstool away from the couch. I pick up the bottle of Jack and slide my ass down on the carpet. I uncap the bottle and swig. Well over half gone. I am good and buzzed. I am hammered. Again. Every two weeks. A pattern is developing.

I am sweat soaked from head to toe. My cock has stopped throbbing. I grab the brown bottle and engage in a nice double shot. I recap the little brown devil and lay my head back on the couch seat.

I remember my new nipple sensations. I hit the play button and slowly brush my nipples as I exhale the brown bottle poison. The thumping returns between my ears and between my legs. The gorgeous black pouch is full. I want to touch it, but I have to rub my nipples and watch the movie. I keep rubbing, circling over them with one finger each. I am mesmerized by the direct link to my cock. I feel the warm heat from the brown bottle flush through me. I can barely keep my eyes open.

I am able to let one nipple go. To rewind the disc. I want to see the third punch again. Three punches, to go with three fingers in the fag’s ass. I hit play. I fight to keep my eyes open. I toggle up the sound. Here comes the punch.

A loud smack!

Red blood sprays from the faggot’s mouth. Along with a cry of pain. A cry of fear. My cock is pounding. Stevie is annihilating this bitch.

Go Stevie, destroy the cunt!

What a position of power to be in!

Dominating power.

The boss. The king.

I think my cock is going to blow any second. Stevie is pushing the fag’s legs apart. I mimic the move by sliding flat onto my back. I part my legs. Stevie is pushing the legs back, exposing the ass. The cameraman hits zoom, angling for the hole. Disgusting, the fag’s hole is dripping with grease. The hole is red and open, thanks to Stevie’s three finger assault. On the carpet, I am spread and bent. The pressure of my pants is strangling my cock. With one hand, I reach for my zipper. I must release the fucking beast. Now.

I struggle to keep my eye slits open. Please, I beg myself, stay with it!

The action on the screen is better than any porno I have ever seen. Mind blowing stuff. The fag on the bottom is beautifully muscled, with a rippling abdomen and deep tanned skin. He is sweat slicked and smooth. Exactly like me, I think. I am working my nipple with one hand, try-ing to free my cock with the other. I am staring at the dripping hole when the camera blurs. The camera quickly refocuses. My head and poor cock are near ready to blast off. The camera has refocused on something long and white.

Holy shit!

Stevie’s bare cock is out. It is pure white, and motherfucker, the thing must be a foot long. No wonder my ass was torn to bits. I had to admit, he had one amazing cock.

Why did I have to admit this?

Never mind.

Stevie is maneuvering on the bed. His hands have lifted the poor fag’s ass in the air. Stevie is pressing his monster cock against the fag’s hole. I feel the first spasm deep in my balls, somewhere near my ass. With both hands I rip my zipper down, unsnap my leathers and yank out my cock. One last look at the screen. Stevie’s purple knob is pushing hard at the fag’s ass. Any second, it will disappear inside.

The camera angle switches to an above view.

Damn. Confirmation. The little red light on the ceiling was a camera. Not a smoke detector. Holy shit. I should have known this, shouldn’t I?

Stevie is climbing on top of his prey, hooking his arms under the fag’s legs, pinning the helpless creature back on the bed. The two of them are prone, Stevie on top, the fag spread eagled on the bottom. The camera has switched back again to side view. Stevie is biting at the fag’s mouth. The camera zooms in tight on the face. My face. Stevie is licking and sucking at my blood. Blood is spattering all over our chests and faces. It looks as if the lion is eating the gazelle. The biting turns to kissing. The TV speakers clearly pick up the strong moans of the gazelle on the bottom. The gazelle is whimpering, suffering and scared. Begging to please the lion, sucking and slobbering in oral passion.

The second spasm is rocking through my balls. My body is flushing out completely. I can barely follow the perversion on the screen. Stevie pulls off, returning to a standing position. The camera lingers on my face, panting, gasping, smeared in blood and saliva. The camera pans down to my cock. Thick, pounding, full, monstrous. Alive.

The audio pops and hisses.

Goes out completely.

Suddenly, Stevie is hovering over my cock. His white fingers lift it straight up. The cock looks heavy; a foot long and a half a foot in diameter. His thick lips are brushing my knob. My knob disappears in his mouth. A third spasm begins in my balls. My chest begins to rise and fall as my breaths come quicker. I am mesmerized at the sight on the screen. The camera is in tight on Stevie. Stevie is sliding down, down, down on my cock. I see his throat bulge as he takes it. An anaconda swallowing an anaconda. His face is pretty, he is a girl. Doing what girl’s do best. And he is definitely, performing for the camera.

The camera jerks around, from Stevie’s close up to mine. The camera moves in tight. There is sharp red blood splotched all over my chest, neck and face. I look like I am being slaughtered. It doesn’t appear to be me, the face is contorted and messed, bruised and battered. The camera lingers on the defeated face. Stevie must be continuing his oral assault, because my face is beginning to squirm, possibly in the throes of a major ecstasy, or possibly terrified of being punched again.

The lights have been toggled up to full intensity. I hear my voice, clearly. Quivering. Not in control. A nightmare to my ears.

“Fuck me. Fuck me please.”

I said what?

“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed aloud.

I fumble for the clicker. My balls spasm a fourth time, mightily. The camera has pulled back again. Stevie is in fuck position. Perspiration is pouring from Stevie’s thick shaggy hair, dropping as rain. He struggles to penetrate the cherry beneath him. The sound is echoing from my surround sound speakers. Stevie breathing hard and grunting , a true animal. The fag on the bottom, whimpering and moaning. The ropey muscles in Stevie’s thin arms begin to flex as he tugs hard on the fag’s ass. The camera work is professional.

How do they get these angles from another room, I wonder?

And there it is!

Stevie’s bell punches into the fag’s ass!

Perfect audio, the grunt of the pusher, the splat of the compressed lubrication, the cry of the faggot on the bottom.

I was stunned.

Too much!

My cock began to spurt, shooting streams of white across my belly. I slammed my head back against the couch. Again. Again. My entire body shook. I emptied my balls all over myself. Heaving, breathing hard, sweat soaked. Cock jerking the last of the juice out. Depleting me. No girls in sight. No girls in this room. No girls on the screen. No girls in my head. No girls, period. Only two men. Two animals.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Shocking. Shocking and dismaying at the same time. An actual full on, anal penetration shot. Except. This wasn’t two faggy actors in a movie, was it? This was real. My real.

I tried to settle my breathing.

Gather my brain cells.

Understand this new reality.

I couldn’t begin to think. I was done. I could take no more of my movie tonight. I felt strangely empty. Spent. Truly morphing towards disgust.




Stupidity times a million.

Take the thing out of the DVD player and destroy it. Toss the stupid brown bottle in the garbage. Keep the pants and boots for Halloween. Get off this track I am heading down.

My personal highway to hell.

[to be continued.......For full 164,000 word text, download the EBOOK from KOBO, BARNES & NOBLE, SMASH WORDS, APPLE OR SONY.]

----------see "Trailer for Thirty-One Days", on YouTube----------

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Anonymous readerReport

2015-01-31 18:37:51
five stars for sure!

Anonymous readerReport

2015-01-19 17:13:14
Charlene Rocks!

Anonymous readerReport

2015-01-11 16:04:58
welcome to the jungle, big boy!

Anonymous readerReport

2015-01-07 20:07:12
you aint seen nothing yet!

Anonymous readerReport

2014-10-22 19:00:58

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