THIRTY-ONE DAYS…PART 2 [chapters 7-11]

CHAPTER SEVEN


I met Danny at The Wing Hut on Monday night. Nine p.m. Danny was holding our favorite table. As I approached I could see his scorecard on the round table top. With three empty beer bottles. A fourth in his hand. Oh. Oh. Not good. I was expecting to see two names on Danny’s scorecard. There were none.

The four Amigos were using golf scorecards to record our game. From the Wisconsin Breeze Golf and Country Club. Two cards each, eighteen holes per card. For a total of thirty-six holes. Holes. How appropriate.

How many holes could we plug?

How many holes-in-one could we sink?

There were thirty-one days in December. Therefore, two scorecards were required. We had crossed out the last five holes on card number two. They would not be needed.

I had filled my card out accordingly. Hole number one, Lisa. Hole number two, Jenna. I also gave the girls their attraction rating and their sexual fun rating. We had agreed to be diligent in our documentation. One had to be careful when chasing the record.

Hole number one read Lisa, six point five for body, face, and over all attraction, and a six for fun in the sack. Hole number two read Jenna, six and six point five. I tossed my scorecard on the table for Danny to peruse. He didn’t bother. I could see his depression along with the empty bottles.

I was kind of shocked when he admitted his failure. Was he ever pissed. At both himself and his ex.

What? Women couldn’t fuck while they were on the rags? Says who?

Danny dumped her the next day.

Danny was the guy who had brought us this big sexcapade story from the internet, and he had a tough time grasping the fact he was already out. Day one. Day one and done. Pathetic. Of course I called him a no-fuck loser, which didn’t help matters. I bought him his next two beers and a plate of wings.

He seemed to be calming down when his ex walked into the place. She was a looker all right. Twenty-four years old, short to medium height, long dark hair. Nice face, small ass and small tits. About a seven, perhaps seven and a half on the scale. She looked hot tonight. Angry hot. At Danny. She had already been drinking, drowning her sorrows from the big breakup.

What sorrows?

They had only been together for two weeks. Actually, three times total, in those two weeks. Not exactly a lifetime commitment. Especially for one of the Four Amigos.

Too bad about the rag thing though. What a bummer. Women and their stupid problems. Whatever, not my problem.

Susie blew past our table, calling Danny an ignorant jackass or something. Danny ignored her. He was thinking. About his failure, I suppose.

I was busy doing some thinking of my own. I had done some research on this supposed California sex record. The criterion was one chick for each twenty-four hour calendar day. This meant my two-for methodology was a sound and accepted principal. One before midnight, and one after midnight. I would be doing as many doubles as I could. Maybe some triples, for the fun of it. Perhaps, I would drive the thirty-one day total through the roof. Put it out of reach for the next stud.

“Why not her?” Danny slurred.

“Who’s her?” I responded, not sure what we were talking about.

Danny spit out the words.

“Little Miss No Fuck Susie,” he answered.

I nearly chicken wing choked.

“Susie? Your girl?”

“I’m done with the bitch. She’s already drunk. Go ahead and do her. If you can. You have to get by the rag thing though.”

Yes. As does she.

Wait.

What?

I shook my head out. Danny’s girl? What?

“Are you serious dude?” I questioned.

“Yep. Go for it. Do her at her place. The bitch. You don’t want her shit all over your sheets.”

I was surprised as hell, but then I wasn’t. The Amigos rolled as a team. Bros before hoes and all.

I had never done a raggedy doll before, but I knew there would many firsts during the big quest. Actually, a lot of firsts. Fat chicks. Married chicks. Sisters. Kinky stuff. Sex in cars. Sex in bars. Something. Anything. Everything. The thirty-one girl in a row quest was bound to uncover a whole bunch of new shit.

I had never done an ex-girlfriend raggedly doll. Definitely a first. Danny finished his plate of wings and stood up to leave. I stood up as well.

“Stay,” Danny said. “Tell me how it goes. Good luck. I’m out of here.”

We shook hands, he left, and I sat back down. Not stunned. Yes stunned.

What other sacrifices would be made for the cause?

I looked around the Wing Hut. The cheap pitchers were going down fast. Loud laughter and shouting and good times and the hook up game being played at full speed. Loud music covered the sports chatter from the flat screens.

I caught little Susie’s eyes across the bar. I gave her the sympathy look. She was eyeballing lonesome me, possibly wondering where Danny went. She was alone in her world. Despite her two female drinking buddies, she had lost her man and was in the vulnerable zone. I had only met her once before, but I could offer her my condolences, or some such shit. Talk to her. Be there for her. Listen to her. The things a guy has to do to get laid. Later, Susie, I will get back to you.

I had to scope the place for number four. Susie would be my Monday, my number three. I wanted to bag Tuesday as well. Right after midnight. Then get to bed. Tomorrow was another work day.

Low and behold, number four crossed through my field of vision. This waitress was new. Brand new. Shiny as a penny. She sure was. I had never seen her before. My cock sensor began to tingle. Here in our town, new was exciting. I pricked up.

She moved in a mysterious way, the swaying, sensual walk.

Long, hard, bare legs. Nice to see in the dark, cold of winter.

Gorgeous ass.

Older than me, maybe twenty-nine or thirty. Immaculately maintained. Lots of aerobics and road work. Long blonde hair in corn rolls, beautiful face and smile. Tanned. I could watch her sling beer and wings all night. This chick was at least an eight, some might argue, an eight point five.

The age thing worked perfectly. If she was interested, she would make a quick decision and pull the trigger. I thought a little more about the older chicks. The married chicks. They would fuck and then throw me out. To get back to their lives, their kids and their obligations. Good for them. Good for my mission. Yes, a couple of ringed ladies would be a nice fit for me. The domestic set. There might be an attraction there, after all.

The new girl walked by my empty table. Stopped. Charlene was the name on her tag. Wow. She was good looking. The eight point five became a nine. The usual hellos and nice to meet you and chitchat and what time to you get off tonight ended with Charlene promising to drop by my place at midnight. I gave her brief directions on a napkin. As she walked away, her ass swayed a little extra for my benefit, and my head swayed with it. The nine rating turned into a ten. Yes it did. A long, lean, rock solid ten.

It was time to move on Susie.

Susie was good and drunk; my offer to drive her home was met with such an appreciation for her wounded psyche. Nice of me, she kept repeating, ad nausea. Easy Susie, I’m not such a nice guy, as you will find out very soon. If you remember anything of this night. Which you probably won’t.

Susie was pretty when she was sober, not pretty when she was drunk and displaced. I will be generous and give her a seven. As the car ride began, she snuggled over beside me. Her seat belt off, the alarm beeping quietly, I simply turned the music up louder. A small hand found my thigh and began the comfort rub. Maybe she thought I was Danny. Maybe she was very drunk. Didn’t matter. My sympathetic arm was around Susie’s shoulder, rubbing her neck, fondling her hair, showing her the way down. The zip of the zipper and the warm, wet mouth indicated Susie was already getting over her ex. Or pretending I was him.

Should have gone to hers, but back at my place, we got down to it. The rag thing made everything a lot more slippery. Her panties resembled a small diaper. Gross. Sick me for attempting this.

As I drove into her, the blood began to splatter. I didn’t mind the sensation, but the smell was overpowering. Nasty. A bleeding deer. Then the smell controlled itself, settling at a feral level. I got used to it quickly. The red on my white sheets was, different. Exotic. Dangerous.

Ten minutes later we were finished. Susie was in danger of falling asleep on my bed. No way, number three. Tick went the counter in my brain. You need to be stepping girl. I got her dressed, not fun; it was always better undressing them. Got her shoed up and jacketed and bundled back out to the car. I had Susie home in record time, despite her sniffling and clinging and ‘nobody loves me’ bullshit.

I needed to get back to my place for the cake. Charlene. I checked the time. The new girl was on her way. I had enough time to shower the raggedy girl off my crotch, stomach and legs.

Twelve minutes after my shower, Charlene was at the door.

Did she ever look hot.

Her work outfit was on, except for the footwear. The work shoes were gone. Replaced with heeled ankle boots. The heel was enough to amplify every muscle and curve in her legs. My apartment once again screamed sex, bloody sex, and I cringed as I inhaled. Either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care. We didn’t make it out of the kitchen before it started. Charlene was an animal. A gorgeous animal. By the time we stumbled into the bedroom, she was naked, save her boots. Her boots were staying on.

I was about to shove her down onto the bed when I saw the dark stained mess from the raggedly girl. I should have listened to Danny. Taken her to her place.

Ah crap, who cares?

What was the Def Leppard song?

Animal?

The bloody sheet reminded me of an animal kill. Me doing the killing.

I pushed Charlene into the mess and climbed on. Because I had shot about twenty-five minutes earlier, my cock was hard but staying in the neutral zone. I was able to saw at Charlene for a good fifteen minutes. I pulled off once to give her some tongue. Very sweet tasting. Something about matching pheromones. I could have eaten her all night, but she yanked me up by the hair. Once again the begging oozed out of a girl’s mouth.

‘Fuck me please’.

Sure babe, if you insist.

I grabbed her by the boots and folded her up. Damn. I scolded myself for not having a video system running. This Charlene was hot. Smoking hot. Fuck me senseless. I did. The poor girl thrashed and cried and screamed and of course, she saw god.

It was me after all.

We collapsed in a heap when I blew, soaked and spent. Another cunt’s blood all over her back. Awesome.
The slayer, in action.

Check. Number four. Four up, four down.

Charlene, I could get used to. I was actually thinking of her as girlfriend material. I would love to parade her around my bar and buddy circuit. I don’t believe we scratched the surface of our mutual sex-ploration.
Sad. Duty would be calling me soon. I had a long way to go before taking her again. The long way being, twenty-seven more days.

Well, not necessarily.

I could get together with Charlene regardless of my quest.

She wouldn’t count any further on the scorecard, but she would always be my magic number four.




CHAPTER EIGHT


Two full weeks have passed since my infamous debut. The fag was right. I came back. I am in the parking lot across the street from the House of God. Slowly sipping a can of beer. I am not going to get hammered this time. I am not going to lose control of my bodily strength and functions. I am not going to be ‘servicing’ anybody tonight. I am here for redemption. For answers.
To some exceedingly disturbing questions.

About me.

About what happened to me.

For two weeks, I have replayed in my mind, what went down on ‘the’ night. Okay. Bad choice of words. I mean, what went down, other than me. The four beers in the parking lot. The two beers I brought in. The twenty dollar, no-tip drink at the bar. Things got fuzzy then. A basketball game on a giant television screen. The Lakers and the Clippers. Superman and Steve Nash. Talking to the leather pants fag in the bar. The ugly Pit Bull Man dragging the towel man with the stupid name away, at the end of a dog leash. Too unbelievable. Me, back in the small mirror room. Where the memory thing got fuzzy.

Me in the mirror room with Stevie.

Was I actually kissing the guy? On the mouth?

Damn, he was such a girl. The lips, the face, the tongue, the shaggy hair. The ass. The leather girl ass. Suddenly, I was immobile, kneeling, and his cock was in my mouth. I was sucking on his long white cock as the sensation of separation took me away. Even now, I am separated from the ugly fact a cock had been in my mouth. It wasn’t me doing it. Not the everyday me. It was the other me. The dumb ass who was taking a walk on the wild side. This was the only way my brain could deal with it. Good thing I spent most of my life as the normal me.

Still not making sense, but making sense enough to survive this bad episode of my life. This is the sickest part. The domination. I recall him with fistfuls of my hair, forcing his cock down my throat. Pumping his leather ass, wearing those big black boots. I was choking, suffocating, trying to heave my guts out, trying to breathe, trying to stay alive. The salty, hot taste of his cum, staying with me for three days. Shit sakes. What an idiot I was.

Why would I allow this?

The straight me? The sick me? Any me?

Why?

Right this second, and every single time I have thought about this over the past two weeks, my cock is stirring. It must be the domination thing, or the super submissive, punk ass thing. I am not sure which. I know it’s not the fag thing or the gay thing.