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a better life

5/24/2008

this is part one of what will be a long miniseries, so if some
of it seems pointless, remember that there is much more
to it. all will be explained in the end. also remember that
this is pure fiction, and is absolutely not based on anything
that has happened to me or anyone else.


do stay tuned in


-the ghoul





"A BETTER LIFE"


CHAPTER ONE


Women say I am too hard on myself for thinking this, but I
know I am a total nerd. I live with my dad and rely on him for
rides, I play video games all day (games that aren’t even
popular), I live out a fantasy persona on the internet,
and by the time I learn about something cool, it is totally
out of style. I still see hit movies from the 80’s for the
first time.


I do have a girlfriend whom I have been steady with for about
two months now. She could be the best thing that has ever
happened to me. Not only does she accept me for who I am, but
she also caters to my every need, she’s always thinking
about me, and she’s way hot. Plus, she’s always ready to
go whenever I am ready to go; I get all the sex I could possibly
need from her.


I should really be nice and faithful to this woman because
she is the best thing I will ever have a chance at. But I can’t
help myself- there is a girl at work I can’t stop thinking
about. I have to have her.


I only see her when she comes out of the office to deliver
paperwork to somebody in the warehouse or the factory.
She hardly ever comes out to the shipping area where I work.
But when she does I become a total puppy dog. It’s impossible
how perfect her hair is, like she just got it done by a stylist,
up above her head in a bundle that looks messy because of
how it bounces and flails while she walks, except it isn’t
messy- it’s- it’s just perfect. Perfect, natural blonde
hair. She usually has sunglasses on, (designer, of course)
but when she doesn’t I get the privilege of seeing her soulful
brown eyes darting about. I can tell there is disdain in
her eyes, especially when she looks at me, but also at the
other workers. Her eyes are wide and attentive, but at the
top is a wizened, horizon-like brow that gives her an impetuous,
defiant look. She has the nose of a celebrity, and lips that
could best be described as the most forbidden of pleasures,
a little pouty, but always reserved. I can also tell she
spends a lot on beauty products, too: lotion, expensive
perfume, non-smear makeup that never looks runny. She
probably also goes to girly places like tanning salons
and beauty parlors, too. It shows. It really, really shows.
Plus her clothes look like they came from a store so expensive
that they would throw me out on sight. I love staring up and
down her high-heeled sandals, her nylon tights (or sometimes
she wears silk), her miniskirts, and her tight, revealing,
totally unprofessional shirts. And her body has to be the
fruits of unending labor, the way it is so perfectly supple
and soft, yet thin and athletic at the same time. She could
probably escape even the mythical satyrs. I can tell she
runs when she is not at work, but I wish I knew where. I would
love to catch her jogging some day.


Which reminds me of those tits. I don’t really care how much
she spends on designer shoes or sunglasses. All I seem to
want to look at is her cleavage. She shows ever so little
of it- in fact, I have never really seen her showing much
of it at all. But I still get treated to maybe a one-inch line
at the very top of her shirt. Only in the winter could that
ever be completely concealed. But despite her desire to
hide them from me, I know how huge they are. Everybody knows,
and everybody talks about them, and what they would like
to be doing with them.


Why I fantasize about this woman when I have such a hot girlfriend
I don’t know. I have had many deep, saddening guilt trips
about it and I often wonder if I am a terrible man for how easily
I would betray my love. But there is one thing that keeps
me safe: I am too much of a nerd to say anything to her.


Today I am working out in the inventory yard, and the sun
is beating down hard on us. My eyes often sting from the sweat
pouring into them, as well as the shampoo that melts and
runs down my forehead. (That hurts!) I stop now and again
to pour water onto myself and get a drink of it, but I get the
usual talkin’-to about it. There isn’t anything to do half
the time, but it has to look like we are working or somebody
will get mad.


It has been particularly bad lately because everyone is
worried about being laid off. We have been busting our backs
working hard and increasing the productivity as high as
it will ever get, at least because of our efforts. But when
the customer isn’t buying, he isn’t buying. That’s just
the way it goes.


Out of nowhere, a dust storm hits us, spraying us all with
dirt, garbage, staples, and other debris. By the time I
find cover the dirt has already turned to mud on me by mixing
with my stinking sweat. The dust storm settles, and I start
trying to get the dirt specks out of my eyes, or at least get
them to go behind my eyeballs.


I start to realize I can’t really see at all out of one eye,
so I talk to my boss about it. He says I have to go and talk to
the last person I would ever want seeing me in this state:
Cora.


Yes, Cora is the lady I am infatuated with (even though I
shouldn’t be). I know she wouldn’t take me if I were wearing
an Armani suit, and I couldn’t do anything with her right
now, anyway, my eye being as it is, but I still want to be presentable
if I am seeing her! Still, I always figured that with me working
this dirty job and her being around, she has already seen
me (and smelled me) many times before and not liked it. The
only difference is now I have to interact with her.


So there I am, underneath her as she spreads my eye wide open
and drips some kind of solution into it. I have always fantasized
about her touching me, but it didn’t involve her getting
grime off of my face with her fingertips and me reeking of
a hard day’s work.


But it is no less arousing. Her face is so close she could
kiss me, and her nipples occasionally brush up against
my shirt. I don’t know why they seem so pointy. Maybe it is
a nervous reaction from being so close to someone, maybe
she just isn’t wearing a bra. Or maybe she is aroused. Nah,
couldn’t be. Not from me. In any event, I know she would prefer
for them to not be touching me, if she could do anything about
it at all. But those tits are so huge, it’s all she can do to
not press them against me fully.


Her fingers are so soothing that my face tingles with excitement,
just from her touching me. Her breath is sweet. I can tell
she has eaten, and isn’t using a breathmint, yet it still
smells so nice. Apparently she takes great care of her teeth.
And above all, what really drives me crazy is the perfume.
Here I am, stinking from work, and she smells of tropical
fruits and botanicals, strongly. Every time I breathe
I get more excited, and I know I am pulsing, throbbing. Everywhere.
My heart beats so fast and intensely that I wouldn’t be surprised
if it came out of my chest and punched her.


I don’t remember anything I said to her. I don’t even know
whether I am talking to her right now, or whether she is talking
to me.


“Quit moving your eyes! You have to hold still so I can do
this. Okay, I have found the speck.” she says. She must be
referring to how my eyes wander up and down her, like they
always do.


It seems a little weird, of course. This is not a skilled
eye surgeon or something. This isn’t even a nurse. This
is an afternoon shift safety coordinator who spends most
of her time working for other departments besides her own.
The only reason I am seeing her is because I know that my job
depends on it. If I demand to go to a hospital on workers’
compensation and end up generating a bunch of paperwork
and a bad safety rating, I will be on the hit list for layoffs.
It’s very cheap, inhumane, and illegal, but in these days,
this isn’t the only company doing this kind of thing.


She has me turn over and hold my eye open so it can be irrigated
out. Somehow, some way, it works. Either she’s really good,
or I am really lucky.


She tells me to take the rest of the day off. I don’t know why
or how, but I end up breaking the ice: “When do you get off?”



“I am supposed to be off right now. As soon as I get done with
you, I’m going home.”


My mouth just goes without me: “So you’re not done with me
yet?” It could be an innocent statement, like asking what
else there is to do in terms of paperwork and such. But the
look on my face says it all. There is an implied message,
and she could take it somewhere.


This is the part where they always have to use the word “boyfriend”
in a complete sentence. “Yeah, then I get to go and see Junk
Man with my boyfriend. He almost never takes me to places
I want to go anymore.”


“So he takes you places, but only boring places.” I ask,
in a statement sort of way.


“Exactly! You know? He wants to be seen with me when he’s
grocery shopping and stuff, so everybody knows they can’t
have me. But he doesn’t want to be seen with me when he’s doing
actual fun stuff, because he wants to appear to still be
single at the same time.” she responds.


“I can’t imagine a guy cheating on a girl like you.” I say.
Of course, how could I be contemplating cheating on the
wonderful woman I have? My own self-respect plummets.
But in a way, it climbs because this beautiful girl is actually
talking to me.


“He doesn’t. But he just- I don’t know! He’s just weird.
Well, I gotta’ go now. I hope you feel better tomorrow.”



So much for her talking to me.


She’ll be gone for the weekend, and when she comes back is
the day my weekend starts, so that’s four days I have to spend
without her. Already I am starting to feel like a puppy.
She has shown no interest of any kind in my kind, and I am counting
the days until I get to see her again.


When I arrive in the parking lot, it’s not my dad, but my girlfriend
who is there to get me. She looks so cute, like she must have
dressed up just to see me. Her makeup is done, she has high-heeled
sandals on, and a low-cut dress. She’s not done up like a
debutante but just enough to let me know that she considers
seeing me, and turning me on, to be very important to her.



I remember all of a sudden that we are supposed to do lunch
somewhere close.


So I tell her what happened and she says: “Aww, poor baby!”
in a joking way. “So we get the whole day to ourselves?” She
is so excited about spending time with me, and all I can think
about is the woman who can barely stand me.


I feel like a total piece of garbage, and I know I am. This
would be so much easier to live with if my girlfriend was
a twat.


She takes me home to her house, an immaculate, spacious
two-story home in an upper middle class neighborhood.
You can always tell the upper middle class neighborhoods
because there are neighborhood watch signs everywhere,
and all the houses look nondescript and ultimately private.
Meager differences in the yard or what car someone drives,
but no flags anywhere (except for the occasional American
flag, for those who really want to make a bold statement),
no toys or trash in the yard, no plants that aren’t native
(to England, that is), no distinctive mailboxes, nothing
that might give someone the wrong impression about their
humanity or lack thereof. Even the cars lack decals, and
there are no personalized license plates, except for the
occasional plate that says something like “prestige”
or “success” or “wealthy” or some other statement that
the car’s owner wishes were true.


The house is one of many properties that my girlfriend’s
parents own. They let her live here because they don’t want
her worried about rent or roommates while she attends college.
The woman is brilliant, and one day she will be a robotics
technician. Why she is going to school in this area for something
like that, with the parents she has, I don’t know. But while
the University of Nevada is not the most prestigious for
robotics, it still has a well accepted program in the technical
community. She won’t be starving for work with her high
GPA. Sometimes I am astounded by the things she says, and
I wonder if she is even making the right choice, being with
me.


Right now I know she isn’t. A woman like this deserves a man
who loves her. I do love her, but apparently not enough to
keep it in my pants. I am sitting right next to one of Reno’s
hottest women and the reason I am aroused is because of another
woman who isn’t even around anymore!


What is it? What is the difference? Is it that she has a better
body? It’s a hot body, but my girlfriend’s body is the best
I have ever had. I don’t even know how I managed to land this
deal. Is it some kind of chemical attraction? Is it just
the fact that she doesn’t want me back that makes me want
her so much? Is it....


“Baby, why don’t you take a shower, and then we can go eat
like we were supposed to.” says Lena. My girlfriend’s name
is Lena, see.


I am so tired I don’t want to get off of her couch, even though
I know I am making it filthy just by being on it. My tired bones
and muscles deny me the right to move from my relaxed state.
In fact, all I really want is a damn beer.


But I get up somehow and get into her bathroom. Piece by piece
I slowly and painfully remove my clothing. The stink is
practically withering when I take off my steel-toed boots.
My eyes actually roll up into my head a bit when I get the socks
off. The worst part about all this is that the shower is almost
pointless since I don’t have clean clothes to change into
when I get out.


But I get clean. Me and my solid cock. It’s just so hard that
it hurts. I try thinking about other things. I even try thinking
about disgusting things, just to get my mind off of her.
But nothing works. I end up grabbing it.


I don’t want to beat off in my woman’s bathroom, I just want
to relieve the tension. The swelling and stiffening only
continues. The pain recedes a little only to come on massively
strong again when I stop. Before I know it I am jacking it
off. I end up coming all over the shower walls, spraying
above the faucet and the knobs. I can see where I came and
I rinse to cover up the evidence of what I did. I feel guilty
just about having a fantasy!


Despite all of my efforts to get this dick to settle down,
it is still hard, and it still hurts. I try again, but I am
not getting there. I try thinking about very dirty thoughts,
things that are beyond taboo. I try thinking about Cora,
and what I would do to her. Nothing works.


I fight through the pain of this week’s work on my poor, aching
body, and the pain of this raging hard-on I have, to get clean.



When I finally feel shower-fresh, I come out of the shower
and my girlfriend is standing outside of the bathtub, staring
at me.


“I heard what you were doing in there.” she says.


I blush. I can even feel that I am blushing. What next? Does
she want an explanation? I sure hope not. But I am a clever
man: “I was just getting it ready for you, baby.”


“Oh, you were, were you? Are you sure you weren’t thinking
about other girls?” she asks.


I lie: “Positive, baby. Why would I think about anyone else?”



“Yes, you were. Don’t lie.” She couldn’t possibly know,
so I know she is teasing me. Then she asks me something that
makes me even more uncomfortable: “Do you ever think about
Emily?”


I almost gulp. Emily is her roommate and her best friend.
I was just thinking about Emily a moment ago. “What kind
of question is that, baby?” I ask.


“Don’t get all defensive now. I was just hoping you would
be open to something. But (sigh), never mind.” she says.



“What, baby? Open to what?” I ask. Now I am very curious to
know what she was getting at!


“No!” she giggles, squeaking as she leaves the bathroom.
I chase her and she runs away faster. “You don’t get to know
now!”


“Why? What did I do?”


She lures me to where Emily stays. I stop outside the door,
being wet and naked and all. I think I know where this is going,
but I can’t be entirely sure since she never even hinted
at anything like this before. I cover up and back away but
Lena grabs my arm and whispers to me: “It’s okay, baby. She’s
been hoping I would let her fuck you ever since I brought
you home.”


“What about her boyfriend?” I whisper back.


“He’s an asshole! Forget him. We won’t tell if you don’t
tell.” Lena says.


I just can’t believe it. Nothing like this has ever happened
to me in my entire, nerdy, miserable life. In fact, the last
time this was about to happen to me, I woke up late for work.
I’m not even sure what I will do when I get it. But I know one
thing: this dick will definitely last long enough to wear
these women out if it keeps going like it is now.


Lena has brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin and a thick build.
She is the sort of girl who is fun to wrestle, maybe even slap
her ass or her thighs and you know it won’t hurt her. Her ass
is, by far, my favorite thing. I love how it’s so round, supple,
and yet firm and tight. I can feel her buttock muscles when
I am in her from behind, slamming back into me with how bad
she wants this cock to go deeper and harder. From time to
time she even wants it up her ass. It’s not really my thing
but I do it for her, and I have to admit it is fun once in a while.
Her appetite for sex is almost unquenchable, and I am always
up to the task. Despite how often she wants me to make her
come, though, she still gets on her knees when I need to be
blown, or lays on her back to be tit-fucked, ever so submissively.
It’s almost enough for her that I get off. Almost.


Emily is mixed race, being half white and half Hispanic.
I know nothing about her libido, but I know her body. I always
worried that Lena might catch me staring longingly up and
down her legs, or at the cute looks she gets on her face when
she is happy. I love the apparel she wears around the house,
showing off every inch of her pretty feet and smooth, slightly
muscled legs. I have always wondered what a woman with leg
strength like hers could do in bed.


Maybe Lena caught me staring. Maybe she talked to Emily.
Maybe I will find out.


Lena whispers to me. “Wait outside. Don’t peek, and don’t
come in until I tell you to.” These sound like simple instructions,
but I have a feeling they will be impossible to follow. “And
no jacking off!” she says with a grin. She pushes me to the
side so that I am not in view of the door and gently on
it before opening it and stepping in.


“Hello, sexy.” Emily says. I can’t believe what I just heard!
I also hear a large textbook shutting and being put on the
floor. “What can I do for you?”


“Oh, you can definitely do something for me.” says Lena.
My heart pounds as I hear the sounds of passionate kissing.



“Hey, isn’t your boyfriend here? Shouldn’t you be fucking
him?” Emily asks, abruptly ripping her mouth away and sounding
worried.


“He’s still in the shower. I don’t know what the hell he’s
doing. Fuck him. Besides, I need a woman’s touch right now...
Something gentle, something romantic.”


I still can’t believe what I am hearing. My girlfriend and
her roommate have been dykes this entire time without my
knowing it.


...Gods be praised!


“Noooo!” Emily playfully denies Lena. “He’ll hear!”


“Isn’t that what you want?” Lena asks.


“No!” Emily giggles. “Why? Do you think he’d be cool with
it? Aren’t you two supposed to be... you know, faithful
and stuff?”


“You and I both know I haven’t been. I’ve been with you! If
he hears and doesn’t like it then he’s just a fag, anyway.”
Lena says. Couldn’t have said it better myself. Then I hear
a bounce on the bed. “Now shut up and give me that cooch.”
Lena says, smothering any more of Emily’s objections while
she gets her pants off.


Couldn’t have said it better myself!


I have no idea what is happening. All I hear are gasps, which
I assume to be coming from Emily. I have always loved Emily’s
voice, but I have never heard it quite like this! It is hushed,
like she is hiding her pleasure, until she finally says
“Mmmmmmmmmm!” in a rising crescendo and starts moaning.



Lena seems to detect better than I Emily’s shyness and just
shouts, yells out: “Come on! I want him to hear you! Be loud!”
I can tell there is a trembling in Lena’s voice, like she
is picking up the pace of whatever she is doing, and it is
definitely labor-intensive. “Let me hear you! Let me hear
you come!”


Emily gets loud and utterly Paleolithic in her guttural
screams of orgasm. She starts to sound like her orgasm is
about to climax, but then her voice gets desperate, like
there might be a bigger, better orgasm coming on. She seems
to hold onto the feeling and Lena doesn’t let up.


I have never made a woman come like this, so loud and out of
control. I have to know what these women are doing that is
so good. Here I am, instructed to stand outside like a loser
while they get it on! Is this Lena’s way of showing me a good
time? Or is it Lena’s way of showing that she can have a better
time without me?


Emily belts out her love for my girlfriend (yes, she actually
says the words: “I love you” to her) while she reaches the
zenith of her orgasm, then her screaming seems to recede,
not because it is over, but because she has to take deeper
breaths between shouting, then, with a final scream, she
finally gets to that special place, and is reduced to panting.
She repeats: “I love you.” and then says: “Hold me.”


I sit outside while my girlfriend has an emotional, moving
moment without me. Speaking of moving, my dick keeps bouncing
up and down and around and around. I can’t believe I am actually
doing what my woman wanted me to do. I can’t believe she is
having sex with this chick without her knowing that I am
listening. I can’t believe how badly I need to fuck.


I hear more kissing, I hear Emily whimper a little gasp,
then I hear Lena shuffling around the room (I figure it isn’t
Emily because I wholly assume that Emily has been thoroughly
defeated and is content to lay, motionless).


The next thing I hear is a click, and then some buzzing.


So that’s it. No more obedience! I will not stand here and
listen to this any longer! I have to at least watch.


Emily takes a massive dildo, easily, EASILY bigger than
any meat I could hope to provide, out of Lena’s hands and
turns it upside-down, dragging it up and down across her
clit. I see because the door was left slightly ajar, and
I silently just pushed it all the way open. I am watching
from around the corner, and if they notice it is open, I can
step back outside and hope they think it was the wind.


Lena keeps spreading Emily’s vaginal lips apart while
Emily plays with herself. Sometimes I see her arm quiver,
the one that’s holding the giant dildo. She almost inserts
it, but Lena instructs her to wait. Awfully bossy today,
that Lena. Damn tease.


Yes, I told you all yesterday that Lena gives me everything
I want and always satisfies me in every way, especially
sexually. But right now she is a damn tease. I can see her
round, firm, ghost-white ass arched toward me. She has
to know I am watching, the way she is positioned. There is
no way she was serious about the order to stay outside and
not watch at least. Every time that ass comes toward me I
can remember how it feels when she slams it into my pelvis.



Lena lays on her back and says: “Oh, no! You don’t get to come
yet! Give me that cock.” She sounds like she could just rip
it out of Emily’s hands, but Emily obediently stops immediately
and hands the massive dildo to Lena, who points it up in the
air, holding it at the bottom with both hands. Lena now has
it right where it would be if it were hers, still buzzing
loudly. “Do you want to sit on it now?”


“Yes” whispers Emily, still panting and probably still
on the verge of another orgasm.


“What?” Lena asks in a rude tone.


“Please, please, please!” Emily whispers out, working
her clit with her fingers to try and stay in that special
place and not lose her chance at coming.


“You wait for me this time. This time, when you come, I want
you to be polite and ask first.” Lena commands. It is a dominant
side to her I have never before seen, and in fact, it seems
to come out of nowhere since just a few minutes earlier she
was getting Emily off again and again, then nurturing her
like some kind of motherly tutor. There was never any protocol
about it until now. I wonder if she will ever snap like that
with me, and start ordering me around.


I would like it.


Slowly, inch by inch, Emily starts to get on that giant toy,
the vibrating slightly muffled now that it is in her, and
getting fainter as it goes deeper. She shudders with every
plunge she takes on it, then looks horrified that she is
being denied the right to get off on it. I feel denied, too.
“Take it all. That’s a good girl.” says Lena in a hushed voice
that isn’t a whisper but still barely audible.


I can’t even tell how deep she has gone now; her pussy has
disappeared below my view of Lena’s head and tits. “Wow,
look at that!” Lena exclaims, still barely speaking. “You’ve
really become mine now, haven’t you?” Emily is ever-so-slowly
rocking backward, fighting with all her will the urge to
start fucking this massive dildo full-on. Lena can tell
that Emily can’t take anymore: “You want to come now?”


The thought of being relieved almost sends Emily into full-fledged
ecstasy right away, but not quite; she is well-trained.
“Yes.” she whispers (it sounds almost like a sob. “Please,
let me come.”


“What?” Lena asks loudly. Lena starts bucking her hips
upward. Her forearms are flat against her belly so I know
this is sending the dildo into Emily, just like she is getting
fucked.


“Please! Please!” Emily screams in a guttural way, her
voice grinding like ice on gravel.


“Alright, come on it!” Lena shouts, straining to be louder
than Emily. Emily immediately starts shouting and gushing.
She is in such ecstasy that she could collapse, the only
thing keeping her up being her desire to ride the toy in Lena’s
loving, thrusting lap. But Emily’s elbows fail her, buckling
abruptly and sending her onto Lena’s firm, ample, and sweaty
tits. Lena turns her head to the side to bark encouragement
into Emily’s left ear.


Emily looked right at me when she falls, but I am sure she
couldn’t have noticed me because her eyes are now rolled
up into her head, then she shuts them forcefully while she
humps the solid toy a little more. This is no rubber dildo-
it doesn’t bend or even budge beneath her. The only mercy
Emily gets is when Lena moves it.


Emily’s death metal screams are finally reduced to low
purring as she bears down on Lena’s body. Lena bends her
head back and looks straight at me. I reflexively start
to step to the side and hide, but halfway through I stop myself,
knowing it is pointless now. Lena was already grinning
widely when she tilted her head back, and she flickers her
fingers at me to say hi.


Bitch.


I know there has to be more to this! There just has to be. She
has never left me unsatisfied before. I just know she is
about to invite me in.


“Was that good, baby?” Lena asks Emily.


“Mmmmm...” Emily purrs, just before giggling. Lena helps
her roll off onto the bed and cuddle up again.


“Guy, you can come in now.” Lena says, finally revealing
that I was here the whole time.

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Very stimulating. Keep them coming!

5/26/2008

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Your a bad boy who needs a spanking

8/2/2008

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Very interesting i look forawrd to reading more

12/6/2008