by Patrick Kill
My hands balled into fists again as I approached her.
She was still on her knees, looking up at me.
“You fucking bitch!” I yelled. “How could you—”
She unzipped my pants.
“—fuck around—”
She pulled down my underwear.
I fell back on a rocking chair next to the door.
She put my dick in her mouth and my anger suddenly ceased.
I started to say, “No” but I felt my dick pulsing, betraying me. I was supposed to be pissed off, taking a stand, but, obviously, my penis had other plans.
Usually when my penis talked, I listened. It had more control over me than rage, but I was lucky: I had a sensible penis. And one that actually held conversations with me. Of course, no one else could hear those conversations, but I could. It was a form of telepathy I had somehow acquired during puberty, one that allowed my penis and me to communicate. Of course, my penis didn’t have vocal chords, so a spoken language was impossible. But it somehow developed the ability to project thoughts into my mind, as if my personality had somehow split and my penis controlled its own alter-ego.
So my penis said, Relax! Let her blow you, then give her hell. She’s trying to make it up to you.
Wait a minute, this is fucked up, I thought. What was in the room fucking her?
I felt my penis start to deflate.
Whoa, it said. Look at what you’re doing to me. Focus, for Christ’s sake. We’ll figure it out after she’s done. OK?
He had a point (a well-rounded one, too).
Rebecca was going to town. She administered head while wiggling her ass like some porn queen. Our bedroom seemed suddenly surreal with the flickering candle and my wife’s strange behavior.
But I still felt a presence in the room and my thoughts shifted again.
Hey, my penis yelled. Concentrate, asshole! It’s not very often she gives head!
True, I thought, and looked back down at Rebecca’s bobbing figure. Her eyes were closed again, and she was taking my entire cock into her mouth and then licking my balls every second or third stroke.
I closed my eyes and felt the pleasure building. “Oh yeah,” I said.
I opened my eyes again, wanting to watch her in action. I focused back on her ass. It still wiggled with every bob. I placed my hand on the back of her head, guiding her up and down. She responded by increasing her pace. She then started thrusting her hips rhythmically, like she was dry fucking the air.
That’s when I noticed that something was fucking her from behind, as her ass cheeks were parting to an invisible prodding.
“What?” I said, but I was already beyond the point of no return.
I focused through the dark room and could see the flesh of her ass jiggling with each thrust from behind.
Looking down, her head bobbed wildly.
Everything started to spin around me. I grabbed her hair to pull her way, but she kept blowing me.
I came into her mouth. She didn’t even complain. In fact, she took it all in and then climaxed herself. A stream of milky liquid ran down her legs.
She collapsed on the floor, totally spent.
* * *
It’s not an easy thing to curse at someone who just swallowed your load. After blowing my seed, I suddenly felt at peace and mellow.
But then the strange presence bothered me once again.
Rebecca hadn’t moved on her own since collapsing on the floor. I had moved her to the bed after checking to make sure she was still breathing. Luckily she was. I didn’t need to explain that one to the police. What was I supposed to say…an invisible man fucked my wife to death while she was blowing me? I can’t imagine something like that holding up in court. That’s crazier than saying that a one-balled man did it!
My eyes darted around the room, fearing that the thing that was fucking her would come back and target me. And that scared me. Nothing like going back to the office on Monday with a prolapsed sphincter. Try explaining that one while having to stand up during the staff meetings.
I nudged my wife, trying to wake her up. I wanted to get the hell out of the house. These strange events were too much to take in. I no longer felt safe in my own home. I recalled the strange event, feeling like a voyeur, watching my wife have sex with another man. Only it wasn’t another man. I could have beaten the shit out of another man. Or I could’ve kept an eye on my wife better, not allowing her the free time to meet up with that particular man. But when Casper the Ghost fucks your wife, then disappears before your very eyes, there’s really no redemption.
Moonlight shone onto my wife’s sleeping body. She was face-down on the bed. Besides the dried bodily fluids encrusted on her face, she looked amazingly sexy.
My penis perked up. What are you waiting for? Put me in her ass. Come on! She wouldn’t let you before.
I don’t know, I thought, Rebecca hates anal sex!
She seemed to like it earlier, my penis reasoned. It doesn’t matter anyway…she’s fast asleep.
I looked down at the curve in her back. My penis was growing, slowly bridging the gap from my crotch to Rebecca’s nether region.
Come on, teamwork! You lead me to the ho and then I grow, it chanted. Let’s get this show to a flow.
I straddled Rebecca’s legs, parted her butt cheeks and positioned my penis within.
Once inside, my penis said, This is one small step for you, one giant leap for your penis.
Moon landing, huh? I asked nervously.
You’re in the crater, baby, it replied.
I shook my head and started thrusting.
Rebecca’s body was limp and relaxed and I felt guilt slowly coming to the surface. It felt wrong, like I was raping my own wife. But hadn’t she deserved this for what had happened earlier?
Yes, my penis answered.
But a few strokes later, Rebecca’s ass muscles locked in a vice-like grip around the main thruster unit.
Oh shit, my penis said.
Her head rose and she glanced behind her, obviously furious at being violated.
My jaw dropped.
Her ass cheeks tightened.
As she rose to her knees, she pulled my penis with her. Pain shot through my balls, as I whimpered out loud.
My penis was talking a mile a minute, obviously nervous at the change in events.
Finally Rebecca let go. She sat on the bed, turned around, then slapped me across the face.
“How could you?” she asked, “You know I don’t like it that way!”
“But—” I started to argue.
“Butt is right!” Rebecca said, raising her voice, which was a rare occurrence. “If you ever do it again, I’ll rip your dick off, you hear?”
My penis and I said yes at the same time and that was the end of it.
It’s funny how the blame can shift in an instant and how the man can always be on the losing end of that sudden change.
* * *
It was one of the most awkward breakfasts I’d ever had.
Although a fury of questions fought to be freed, I said nothing. Instead, I glanced across the kitchen table at my wife and watched her eating a banana. When she looked up, I’d look back down at my bowl of alphabet cereal. I had managed to gather the letters W, H, O, and R with my spoon. The E was submerged in milk, somewhere at the bottom of the bowl.
Just when I had fished out the E, Rebecca said, “I’m sorry, OK?”
Her voice startled me and my hand jerked the spoon, disassembling the letters. All that remained was the WHO in WHORE. Which was a good question to start with.
“Who were you fucking when I came home?”
Rebecca’s face reddened. She looked away, out the kitchen window. Tears formed in her eyes.
“You were at work. I was lonely,” she said. “I was just thinking how it’s not fair that we can’t have a child of our own.”
As she hesitated, my thoughts jumped ahead to solve the puzzle. What my mind finally came up with involved Rebecca
going to an antique store, purchasing an old bottle. When she came home to clean it, she rubbed it three times and out popped a genie that just happened to be hung like a horse. After taking her for a ride on his magic carpet and getting her drunk, he talked her into granting three of his own wishes—vaginal, anal and oral sex. Those genies can be sneaky like that.
It turned out that I was way off. Her story didn’t involve a genie.
It was much worse.
I felt myself tense up. Rebecca had been trying to get pregnant for more than a year. Our failure to conceive was finally taking its toll on our relationship. I knew this, but was hoping that our situation would soon change. It seemed that all she even cared about anymore was getting pregnant. Whenever we had sex, it wasn’t about the act of being together or having fun, trying new things…it was all about the drive to impregnate. The thing that bothered me the most was that it seemed like our life together was no longer good enough for her, that Rebecca needed something else.
“I was reading the Bible and praying,” she continued. “And I was horny.”
“Yeah,” I said. “So what?”
“Well, one thing led to another and I kind of asked God to fuck me.”
“You what?!”
“I know it was stupid,” she stated, “but I didn’t think it would really happen. He never listens any other time.”
I was about to argue, then I thought about it. It seems as if God and I were on the same page when it came to women. Like most men, I never listened either until sex was mentioned. Then I became the world’s best listener. It was hard not to. Rebecca was definitely one of God’s greater creations: tall and long-legged, her natural blonde hair was shoulder-length, her bright blue eyes looked innocent one minute and mischievous the next. One sideways glance from her could pump up my sex drive instantly.
“So you think that God fucked you, is that it?”
“I don’t think, I know,” she replied.
“How do you know? Did you see Him?”
I could see a smile almost forming. “No, but I felt His presence.”
“Well, obviously!”
* * *
After that night, everything changed.
Our nights of lovemaking ended.
I only tried to get intimate with my wife one time after that terrible night, and it failed miserably.
I awoke one morning and entered her.
My penis said, All systems are ready.
About three strokes into the mission, something went terribly wrong.
Daryl, we have a problem, my penis commented.
I ignored it.
My penis then screamed at me, For the love of your pete, retreat! Get me the fuck out of here!
Rebecca stopped bucking beneath me. She asked, “What’s wrong?”
I wiggled my penis in farther, but it wouldn’t budge. It just stayed there shriveling at the edge of its once beloved hole.
What’s wrong with you? I asked it.
There’s something staring at me, my penis reported. It’s pointing a little digit at me, like it’s summoning me…or condemning me. It’s freaking me out!
What? I asked.
The only time my penis had ever lied to me (other than the anal-oopsy with Rebecca) was during my senior year prom night. He told me that Sally-Anne Preston was hot and eyeballing me. My penis had a “nut-feeling” that it could get inside her that night. But it turns out that 300-pound lesbians don’t cave in very easily. And when they do (and insist on being on top) then you’re the one that ends up caving in. But ever since my penis and I were traumatized during that horrific event, we made a pact to be honest with each other.
So if my penis said that there was something looking at it, then I believed it.
Which could mean only one thing.
And that was quickly confirmed as Rebecca doubled over and puked in my lap.
Although my penis received third degree acid burns throughout its entire head and body, it eventually recovered.
So our nights of passionate sex were over and the morning sickness began. My days became a blurred routine of mindless work at the office. I found myself working late each night, trying to climb the corporate ladder…anything but come home and face my empty life.
I’d sit in my cubicle during the day and wonder if my wife was getting corn-holed by God during her afternoon soap operas. I’d go into a jealous rage, only to come back down to the realization that there really was no way to compete with having God as your wife’s sex partner. What would I have that He didn’t? Certainly not a bigger penis. Or a better job. Or that special touch of someone who knew the female body. For fuck’s sake: the Omnipotent Bastard made the female body. How the hell was I supposed to compete with that? While I poked around aimlessly for several minutes just trying to find the Goddamn hole, God, on the other hand, was pounding the G-spot more accurately than an ace dart player nails a bulls-eye.
And if the humiliation wasn’t enough, a few days later my wife finally confirmed the fact that she was pregnant.
My life spiraled downward from there. And the funny thing about the whole situation was that I never even believed in God until he knocked up my wife!
Now my wife was giddy; her life was complete. A child was on the way: the Son of God, no less. Nice! Although I had held out hope that the child was mine, I knew God’s seed was a little more potent than my own. Hell, I’d tried to help create a single baby for well over a year without success. God created the entire fucking universe in less than a week!
During the third trimester, I snapped.
In the midst of a long and sleepless night, I took a little walk outside. It was a cool, fall night, one of those crisp nights where every star in the sky could be seen. The moon was full and bright when I confronted God.
“Why?” I simply asked. “Why did you do this to me?”
I waited, watching plane lights flash across the sky.
No response came.
“So you can fuck my wife, but you can’t answer a simple question?”
Nothing.
“You at least owe me an answer!”
Silence.
“You don’t talk, you just fuck, right?”
I dropped my pants.
“All right then,” I said, “You already fucked me once by impregnating my wife, so you might as well just fuck me again.”
I bent over, waved my hairy ass in the air.
“Come on, do what you do best then, you fucker!”
I laughed, whistling up at the night sky, spreading my ass cheeks wider.
“What’s the matter,” I asked, “you getting too old to get it up or something? What are you ten thousand years old now? Need some Viagra?”
A lightning bolt shot from the clear night sky and drilled me in the ass.
I fell face-first into the cold earth.
I woke up hours later, smelling the stench of ozone and burnt ass hair. My anus throbbed. It felt as if my asshole had mutated into one monstrous hemorrhoid. My testicles and prostate felt as if they were rerouted to pump noxious fluids into my stomach. I feared that if I belched, I’d come in my own mouth.
As all these awful sensations struck me at once, I didn’t even realize that my head was cradled in someone’s lap.
“Rebecca?” I whispered.
I turned over, carefully repositioning my ass.
I looked up and met the gaze of a woman. On further inspection, I discovered that she was no ordinary woman, but an angel, no doubt, sent by God.
One look at her face and I knew God was omnipotent. She was pulled directly from one of my most secret sexual fantasies. She was totally nude. Her legs were muscular and thin. Her blonde hair barely covered the tips of her perfectly-shaped breasts. Her bellybutton was pierced with a small diamond and she was lightly shaved throughout her pubic region. A pair of white wings extended from her feminine shoulder blades.
She said nothing, only looked at me with a pair of cerulean eyes, and smiled.
My p
enis stiffened and said, Charge!
I rose and she spread her wings and legs before me.
Between her legs there appeared a vagina-mouth. A pointed tongue protruded, licking her vaginal walls in anticipation.
I wasted no time. As she lay before me, I quickly mounted her. As my penis slid tightly into her vagina, the tongue inside her began to flick back and forth. The warmth of her womb met my penis as I thrust deeper, the ravenous tongue coiling around my head and shaft, bringing me to a quick orgasm.
Ah, the best of both worlds, my penis commented.
As soon as I deposited my seed, I was rejuvenated, and started the cycle over.
The angel made no sound. She just stared at me with those deep blue eyes.
I ravished her for hours until the sun came up. Finally, she rose and I pulled my pants back on. She kissed me and ascended into the sky just as the first house lights turned on and the traffic crept onto the empty streets.
* * *
All was right with the world again as I sat in my tiny cubicle, tired as hell, but feeling like life had finally made a turn for the better.
Before I felt shunned by both my wife and God. Now, I found that I could live with my wife harboring the bastard son of God. Hell, I’d even help raise it, call it my own, if that’s what God wanted. All because the Almighty saw fit to reward me.
I felt special for the first time since Rebecca came into my life. I felt chosen again.
But before lunch break arrived, I discovered that He had rewarded me with something else as well.
A bad case of angel VD.
Not just genital warts, herpes or chlamydia, but an extremely discomforting combination of them all.
Before the end of the workday, my penis and scrotum were riddled with dime-sized sacks of pus. Something yellow oozed from the tip of my penis, depositing a warm mass into my underwear every ten to fifteen minutes. The lesions grew bigger, finally growing to be golf ball-sized.
My penis whined throughout the rest of the day. Oh, it burns…Help, I’m drowning here. . . Look, I’ve become a freak, it complained.