He opened his arms and smothered me in a sickly, foul smelling embrace, pulling me into him with a hand on either buttock. He gyrated against my erection while trying his best to kiss me. I pushed him hard in the chest until he released his grip and fumbled backward.
“What the hell is the meaning of this?” I screamed. “Who are you?”
“I’m your fantasy, baby.”
This was followed by a resonant cackle. Adrenaline shot through my hopeless legs and I ran away. Where was Sexualis Delirium? What the hell was happening? Why did people want to hit me with umbrellas?
CHAPTER 17
I continued my escape, running without direction in an effort to simply get away. Not just from the deviant in the alleyway, but from everything. My adrenal gland could only provide so much assistance before it had nothing left in which to propel me forward. This mindless momentum could no longer sustain itself, so I nestled amongst some refuse and tried not to cry. I stared at the cruel persistence of my erection, which unlike the rest of my body was alive with vitality. I balled up my fists until my knuckles had lost their colour and started punching at my crotch. Blow after irrational blow. Other than inflict more pain, this achieved nothing.
My imagination was conjuring scenarios whereby Windsor, ever valiant, saved me from the madness unfolding around me. I pictured his regal construction and sobbed. I was full of love and hopelessness in equal measure.
“You’ve got such a sexy fucking head.”
My eyes slurped up the tears like spaghetti, replacing the sadness with horror.
“Oh god… your hair is driving me fucking wild, you slut!”
I surveyed my surroundings with frenetic jolts of my head. The calamity refused to abate.
“Head fuck me. Slide that head all the way inside. Fucking do it!”
Warm liquid began to slither down my brow and into my mouth. It tasted like a rotten ocean and I spat it out as fast as I was able. My bowler hat was tightening and writhing.
“Holy shit this feels good.”
“Shut up!”
“Just keep fucking me.”
“SHUT UP!”
I tore my hat away and hurled it toward the road and watched as cars swerved to avoid it, before giving up and flattening it into the asphalt. I had reached a breaking point. The foundations on which my life had rested had been systematically destroyed. I had endured more disservice than was reasonable. My ideology had been attacked. My sense of morality had been forced into corrosion and now… now my hats were turning against me. Other than my darling Windsor, there was nothing in the world that meant more to me. Hats had been the parents, friends and relationships I never had. In the black heart of loneliness, the hats had rescued me. When standing before my reflection in superior headwear, there was nothing that could harm me. I became more than other men. I had conquered the vast wasteland of the self and stood proud where so many others flailed about within their own kingdoms of waste. Was it unreasonable that I wished to avoid sex? Was this a punishment for transcending the human condition?
“Worthington? Is that you, man?”
I snapped my head in the direction of the voice, half-expecting it to be the latest in a long line of objects hell-bent on fucking me. It was dear Hooster! My hat man of choice.
“Hooster! You have to help me.”
“What the devil’s happened to you? To say you look unkempt doesn’t come close to doing your appearance justice.”
I clambered for his leg and hoisted myself up to his waist. “Where am I? I want to go home.”
He regarded me with abjection, as though I were a new breed of creature. I couldn’t even portray a façade of dignity. I was weeping openly with a jutting erection and frightful hat hair that curled in terrified wisps. Hooster kindly helped me to my feet and pretended not to notice my penis, but the look in his eyes suggested he could focus on little else.
“I’ll get a taxi for you. For heaven’s sake though… get some rest and wash up. You’re better than this!”
I used Hooster to prop me up and watched him attempt to flag down several taxis. They would slow their pace as if to stop, but when they caught sight of the passenger they would be inheriting, each sped away.
“You’re rubbing the world the wrong day today,” he said in an attempt at playfulness.
I glanced across at the hat trolley Hooster had been pushing through the streets. Each hat possessed its own beauty. I reached toward them. “Do me a favour, Hooster…”
“Of course, my man. What are you after?”
“Let me try on one of those hats.”
He didn’t immediately grant this request, but he and I had a history that couldn’t be ignored. With a nod he reached for a Borsalino fur felt and handed it to me. I nodded my thanks and lowered it toward my head.
“You dirty fucking cunt… you want a piece of this, don’t you?” whispered the hat.
I screamed and flung the hat just I had the last. Everything was trying to fuck me. Hooster yelped as his stock lost the fight against the passing traffic.
“I’ll reimburse you for that,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m very sorry.”
Having had his fill of me, Hooster attempted to flag down everything remotely vehicle-like that drove past – anything to get rid of the deranged madman he was propping up increasingly against his will.
“I don’t know what the deuce is up with you, but you need to get some help. This is beyond the pale.”
All I could do was agree with his assessment. A boy in an ostrich-drawn carriage eventually responded to Hooster and didn’t run away when he saw me. I told the boy my address and he was happy to give me a ride. I motioned to tip my hat, but of course, there was no hat to tip. I unleashed another shameful scream, which made the child giggle. As I was carried away, Hooster shook his head in pure disbelief.
Based on the erratic movements of my mode of transport, I could only assume that ostriches weren’t naturally inclined toward pulling carriages. It seemed as though any inconsistency in the road was deliberately targeted. Each pothole was a magnet we were drawn toward and it wasn’t long before a pothole significant enough to throw me from the seat interrupted my passage home. For a brief moment I was in the air and soon after, my body thumped against the road, knocking the wind from my lungs. Rather than truncating the ride, it merely ensured it was much more uncomfortable. My pants snagged on a wheel hub and tore apart until my underthings were revealed to the world around me. From these tattered pants, I was dragged along the road, feeling it burn against my raw back.
It was in this position, staring up at the sky in abject agony that I had reached my lowest point. I reflected upon the events that had forced me into this position and I felt a rage unlike anything I have experienced. The world had made a point of treating me with enmity, which in turn imbued me with spite. Rather than allow everything to fuck me, perhaps it was I who should be fucking it. My cock was still pulsing with arousal and no amount of self-imposed anti-sexual standards would change that. So fuck it! Why should I try and change it. Maybe I was a fuck machine capable of making the world cum. If my body was telling me to fuck, who was I to argue?
CHAPTER 18
Windsor watched from the front of our home as the ostrich drawn carriage approached, with me being dragged indignantly behind.. When we came to a stop, the boy cut through my snagged pants with a swordfish and left me splayed on the road, erection reaching to the sky above. A salacious grin was plastered on my face that I had no desire to wipe away.
“What’s happened to you, Monty?” screamed Windsor.
I rolled onto my chest and dedicated a good amount of time to the often-undervalued skill of standing up. My clothes were in tatters, but at this point it was difficult to care.
“Take me to our apartment,” I said.
Windsor led the way and I followed. I caught myself leering at him from behind, sexualising him with my eyes. His concern for my wellbeing was radiating from his each and every movement. In
the elevator he tried to engage me in conversation, but now wasn’t the time for such uselessness. What would talking accomplish at this point? I’d wasted so much time talking. I had so many systems in place to live life successfully, but where had any of those systems gotten me? A system can become corrupted in an instance and when it happens, the structure the system supported breaks apart.
We had barely entered the apartment when I started tearing off what remained of my clothes. My erection was glistening and hungry.
“What’s wrong, darling?” said Windsor. “Tell me what’s happened.”
I coughed up a ball of laughter, which I mashed beneath my foot.
“I’m going to fuck the hell out of you,” I said to Windsor.
I gripped two of his legs and hoisted him above my head before making my way to the sitting room.
“What are you doing? Put me down. PUT ME DOWN!”
When we were where I wanted to be, I obeyed his command and put him down hard, right in the same place we were during our first sexual encounter. The first time he forced me to fuck. I pressed my bare backside into him and wiggled my hips.
“How does that feel, baby?” I said. “You want that fucking arse, don’t you?”
For whatever reason, Windsor thought it necessary to respond to me with tears, as if what I were doing was in some way unsolicited.
“Stop it,” he sobbed. “You’re hurting me.”
I gripped my penis and jerked at its agitated mass, making sure to apply as much pressure to Windsor’s seat as my strength would allow.
“I want this to be good for both of us,” I panted. “Just surrender to the moment. Let’s fuck like no one has ever fucked before.”
His androgynous wail persisted, and it was quite a feat of mental coercion to convince myself he was crying in unadulterated pleasure.
“You’re the only chair I can sit on. None of the others are good enough for me. You’re mine.”
I was building to a sensational climax. My muscles were tightening and toes I didn’t even know I had begun to curl in delicious anticipation. Windsor attempted to shuffle away from me, but I was seated too heavily and he could barely move.
“I’m going to cum, baby. I’m going to…”
My orgasm was a bird that flew in circles above us. I screamed with the intensity of the release, my body jerking as the orgasmic spasms abated. Windsor was completely still beneath me, the only signs of life being his occasional, utterly pathetic whimpers. I blocked these out of my mind, instead choosing to concentrate on the relaxation that now possessed each tortured muscle. As long as this moment graced me with existence, all the others meant nothing. Windsor stayed beneath me while I found the sweet embrace of sleep. It was only while lost in this embrace that he tried to escape…
…
I awoke with my face mashed into the carpet, not immediately sure whether I still resided in the same world I used to. Windsor had left me alone in the sitting room and I had no idea where he was.
“Windsor!” I yelled, but there was no response.
A sense of isolation overcame me, which allowed panic to set in. I crawled toward the door, which had been locked, I assume, with a mind to keep me trapped. It was an affront to the sanctity of our relationship. How could he have done this to me? Windsor was perfectly happy when I was the passive masturbatory tool that sat atop him, but when, god forbid, I tried to exercise a little control, he made me out to be a monster. He had no idea how fortunate he was to have me as a part of his life. The world was reaching out to fuck me and I avoided each and every advance without question. Even when my precious hats tried to have their way with me, I tossed them aside. Did he really have the nerve to treat me like some predatory monster?
I belted my fists against the door, trying to shake if from its hinges.
“Let me out!” I yelled. “You have no right to do this to me. I am your lover and I deserve respect.”
My words continued to meet silence. I pressed my ear against the door and listened.
“Fuck yeah!” said the door. “Rub your ear all over me.”
I tried to ignore the door’s attempts at seduction, which only seemed to act as a challenge.
“Come on, you beast. Get some blood in that cock of yours and thrust it against me.”
This planted a seed of rage inside me, which bloomed with the speed and intensity of a firework. A primal growl escaped my mouth. I slammed my whole body against the door, determined to continue this action until the door was no more. I alternated between fists, feet and shoulders until nothing stood in my way.
I stood on the door’s flattened carcass, flexing my muscles and appreciating the pleasure of rampant masculinity. I was a fucking warrior!
“Windsor! Where the fucking hell are you?”
It bothered me that he hadn’t sought to offer me sympathy during what was an undoubtedly trying time. Perhaps I had been a bit crude in my sexual antics, but that was something he started. A precedent had been set the first time he made a show of his own lust. He was the one responsible for planting the fuck in me.
“Windsor… if you’re in here, make it known.”
I was willing to concede that perhaps he needed some time to himself… to work out whatever I had inflicted upon him. But the fact remained, without Windsor, I was unable to leave this impossible apartment, which posed an understandable quandary.
“Fucking hell, Windsor. Get your arse out here now! I’ll fuck every fucking chair in this fucking house if you don’t act like a man and confront me.”
If he was in the apartment, he wasn’t making this fact known. I had begun looking in the most unlikely locations, such as in cups and under rugs. Had I not possessed my wits, he would have out-foxed me. Dear Windsor was in the apartment alright, but he adopted the cunning ploy of hiding in plain sight. He may have been a chair, but via the filter of our relationship, I didn’t regard him as a mere chair. He was my significant other… my lover. The first few times I hobbled past the dining table, I didn’t focus on the chairs that sat around it. It was only while looking beneath the table that I noticed his handsome legs. He had wedged himself between the common chairs, assimilating into an image of his function.
“You crafty bastard,” I said, re-emerging from beneath the table. I dragged him back into the sitting room. He remained silent and made no attempt to flee my grasp.
“Well? Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?”
Still no response. I had never seen him so sullen. It was difficult to garner respect. This silent treatment was a staple of less dignified relationships, but certainly not ours.
“You stubborn bitch,” I said. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. All I wanted was to find solace in the comfort of your seat. But no! Unless you’re calling the sexual shots, you want no part of me. That’s pathetic, Windsor. Absolutely fucking pathetic!”
In lieu of anything resembling communication, I decided to sit myself back down on his seat. I wasn’t going to take the risk of the little drama queen running away again.
“I’m not going anywhere until you start talking to me again.”
Whether Windsor was acting difficult or not, this was the safest place for me to be. If I remained seated on the once place that made me feel safe, I wouldn’t have to contend with the sexual advances of every object I encountered. They weren’t good enough for me.
“Talk to me, you arsehole!”
It was so frustrating having to contend with the emotional fluctuations of those in your life. It was another of my principal objections to relationships. Beyond the sexual element, relationships are a fertile environment in which to grow pettiness and redundancy. Perhaps when Windsor started talking again we could discuss an arrangement that didn’t involve so much one-on-one time. I could see benefit to both parties in this scenario.
“Windsor!”
You know… if I were being honest, I’d have to admit that not wearing a hat during this time was quite liberating. We certainly
become enslaved to our obsessions, don’t we? If I couldn’t wear a hat without it trying to fuck me, good riddance! It was just more complication to free myself of. This primal state of nudity was quite agreeable really. Not having to bother with the complexities of wardrobe and fashion… what a revelation!
“WINDSOR!”
Why wasn’t he talking? Surely, if nothing else, he’d want to end the awkwardness of the situation by telling me to ‘shut up’, or something? He may as well have been dead.
“WINDSOR!!! SAY SOMETHING!!! I’M NOT GETTING OF YOU UNTIL YOU DO.”
Still nothing.
“I love you, darling.”
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
CHAPTER 19
You know, as I sit back and reflect upon what I’ve just told you, it dawns on me how preposterous it all sounds. I’ve told the tale to the best of my recollection at the time, but even now, I wonder how much of it is accurate. I do know that I find myself in something of a predicament, and I’m not positive this predicament has an end. In a sense, I’m stranded on my darling, Windsor. He has remained silent for god knows how long now, and not even telling my story has stirred him. And it should be noted, I lost track of the number of times I have told this story months ago. It seems naïve, but I had hoped that reigniting the curious trajectory that brought us together would galvanise him into action. I mean… it wasn’t completely unpleasant. We had some immensely jocular times, he and I. And even if my story couldn’t provoke fondness, I thought at least he’d want to correct any inconsistencies with my story. People love to correct others. It’s one of the activities in which we excel as a species.
When considering Windsor, I’m reminded of those volcanoes one hears about on distant islands. Volcanoes that once churned with the explosiveness of life, but fell dormant for whatever reason. In this dormancy they resided, until their latent power was forgotten, or under-estimated by the game of Chinese whispers that is history. One day, for reasons unknown, this dormant beast finds it necessary to engage the world once more and erupts, unburdening itself of the repression forged by its sleep. The power of this eruption cannot be contained, nor can it be truly measured. Windsor sits beneath me, silent but not gone. In his dormancy he is combining the ingredients required for his explosive return to the world. And when that return happens, I will be here ready to embrace him.
How to Avoid Sex Page 10