And they also talked about how much they enjoyed fucking each other and getting high together when she had spent the night at her stepmom's house a few days ago, before I finally got to see her after I had picked her up from the Greyhound bus station. So the first person she fucked when she got out was not me, her so-called boyfriend, but her brother. Awww, good old family values.
When Kayla called me the next day to come pick her up again, I told her to go fuck herself. She was baffled and asked me why I was being so mean to her. I told her I wanted nothing to do with her anymore, because I knew she had fucked her brother. She called me crazy and paranoid, and denied everything. So I texted her screenshots of her and Josh's private Facebook messages to each other, where they explicitly talked about having fucked each other while getting high together. She didn't have much to say after that. She just gave me some bullshit about how she was sorry that she didn't tell me sooner that she had a problem being monogamous.
Honestly, I couldn't even really say anything about her cheating on me, since I had been cheating on her for months with Morgan. So it was not like I could sit on my high horse and preach about morals and loyalty. But, seriously, your brother? You're gonna fuck your own brother for drugs? That's just sick. I'm pretty sure even Jerry Springer would have a little problem with that.
I wasn't really hurt about her cheating on me with her brother, because I didn't have deep feelings for her after she had been gone for almost a year and I had been living with Morgan. But I was insulted and disgusted. A few days later, Kayla ended up moving back to her real mother in Sayville. We never talked to each other again after that.
A few weeks earlier, Hussy had started texting me again. She told me how sorry she was about everything she had done to me, how ashamed she was of all her lies, and that she had grown up a lot since the last time I saw her, and if I could forgive her, maybe we could try it one more time. That all sounded oddly familiar again.
I told her I had someone else living with me, but Hussy and I kept in touch anyway.
Now that I was no longer seeing Morgan or Kayla, I started hanging out with Hussy again. I know, I know, I shouldn't have. I really didn't believe that she had changed, but I really liked her unbelievably tight pussy, and we did have some sort of emotional connection after having known each other for so long, and having had sex hundreds of times.
I figured as long as I always keep my guard up, and as long as I remember that I can't trust anything she says, I can still enjoy having sex with her. I didn't want her to be my girlfriend, but I liked that we were friends with benefits again.
I was also seeing Haley again, because I knew that no matter what Hussy said, she wasn't going to be faithful to me anyway, so I had no reason not to see other people, too.
After Hussy's landlord kicked her out of the house near Sunshine Boulevard in Lehigh Acres, she had moved back in with her so-called ex, Dick, the abusive child rapist who lived in a trailer with his mom and sold pills to addicts in the Suncoast Estates trailer park.
Hussy told me she hated Dick and really wanted to get away from him, but she didn't know how, because she had those two young boys and her baby girl, and her job at 711 simply didn't pay enough for her to get a place of her own. So she was trapped at Dick's trailer, unless maybe I could help her get her own place again.
Remember I mentioned earlier that Hussy had been in a bad car accident as a teenager, and she had lost all her teeth? One day she came over to my house without her dentures. She said something about Dick taking them so she wouldn't be able to leave the house, or something like that. I don't remember. Anyway, here she was, with no teeth. I had known for a long time that she wore dentures, but this was the first time I ever saw her without her teeth. She looked like a 90 year old woman. Her lips caved inwards and her voice sounded different. Her lower jaw sat much higher when she closed her mouth, and her face looked shorter. It was not a pretty sight. We had sex that day, like every other day, and I got my first toothless blowjob. (Don't knock it, til you've tried it.)
A few weeks later she told me she loved me, and that she had always known she loved me, but was scared that someone like me would never really be interested in someone like her. But if I would have her, she would like to come live with me, get married, have her tubes untied and have another baby with me.
Since my condo in Bonita Springs was too small for her three kids, she asked if we could move into one of my bigger rental houses. She knew I used to own a beautiful 3000 square foot house with 4 bedrooms in Lehigh Acres.
But when I told her that I had sold my last rental house in Florida a few weeks earlier, she asked if we could rent a 4 bedroom house in Naples and move in together. We actually went to look at a few different places, but I was hesitant to sign a one-year-lease anywhere.
I really did care about Hussy. How could I not? We had known each other for a long time now, and we had been through a lot together. And I knew that she didn't lie all the time because she was really a bad person. She was just really fucked up in the head, because of all the things she had been through in her life. Deep down she really was trying to be a good mother and a good woman. Lying was just the only way she knew how to survive in a cruel world.
But I really didn't trust her at all at this point, because she had lied to me so many times. I didn't want to put a lease in my name and be on the hook for a year, and then she was gonna pull some shady shit behind my back again and she'd end up living with Dick in a house where I pay the rent. No thank you.
Hussy knew me very well by now, and she knew that when someone is in distress, I am always the first to try to help. It goes against everything I believe in, to leave someone hanging in an emergency.
I would like to believe that there is some sort of cosmic justice that maintains a natural balance between good and evil. Or in other words, I like to believe that Karma is real, and that it's true that what goes around comes around. It's just a comforting thought, that if someone does something bad, something bad happens to them in return, to restore balance to the universe, you know?
Well, I guess I'm not the only one who likes to believe that. I guess that concept is the underlying idea behind heaven and hell. I don't believe in life after death, but I would like to believe that somehow Karma makes sure that good people are rewarded somehow, and bad people are punished for treating others like shit.
And I'd like to believe that if I do my best to help other people, then one day, if I ever need help, someone will help me, too.
Hussy knew that if she had an emergency, I would feel compelled to come to her rescue. She purposely got into a huge fight with Dick, so he would kick her out of his mom's trailer. She figured I would have no choice but to help her, and find a place to live for her and her kids.
And her plan would have worked, if I wasn't already busy dealing with someone else's emergency. I had met someone new. Her name was Veronica, and I had my hands full with her. So when Dick kicked Hussy out, she ended up on the side of the road with her suitcases. Her parents had to down to North Fort Myers to pick up her and her kids and bring them to Ocala. Hussy ended up living there for the next year.
VERONICA
"The ability to be in the present moment is a major component of mental wellness."
Abraham Maslow
Remember the online ad I placed a long time ago? The one that Hussy, Kayla, Crystal and Manuela had answered. Well, apparently it was still floating around on the web somewhere, and suddenly, out of nowhere, this girl Veronica wrote me an email. She said she had seen my ad online, and she was interested in a mutually beneficial relationship.
Veronica sent me a picture of herself. She was only 20 years old, 6 feet tall, skinny, with long blonde hair. She was beautiful. She looked like a model. I had a hard time believing that was really her in the picture.
She was staying at the La Quinta on Route 41. Right there I knew she was a hooker. 20 year old girls don't live in hotels, unless they are drug addicted hookers.
&n
bsp; After all the crazy and painful things I had been through with all the other girls who had responded to my ad, I should have known better than to agree to meet her at the La Quinta. I should have run the other way. But she was freakin' beautiful, and I'll be honest: I wanted to have sex with her at least once.
I met Veronica for the first time on December 6th, 2011. When I got there at 11 pm, as agreed, she told me that she had to run an errand first, but she would be back shortly. I knew what that meant. She was on her way to get drugs.
When she got back, and I came up to her room, she was even more beautiful than her picture. She looked like an elf from Lord of The Rings, with her long blonde hair, pale skin, dark brown eyes, and her graceful features.
She wore a tight white v-neck t-shirt and skin-tight black yoga pants with the word PINK on her behind. We sat down on one of the two beds and talked. I told her I knew she was on drugs. She gave me a surprised look and asked if I was a cop. I said no. I told her about my experiences with Alice and the girls I had met in Florida. Now Veronica felt comfortable enough to tell me her story.
She suffered from severe anxiety and PTSD. She used to be a very good basketball player and was hoping to get a scholarship. But then she got into an accident and hurt her leg and back. Her promising basketball career was over before it started, and she ended up being addicted to pain killers. She told me she supported her drug habit by having sex with a handful of "friends."
I learned to hate when girls use the word "friend" when they talk about the dope boys and johns they have sex with. None of these "friends" really care about the girl. They feed her poison and use her for sex. With friends like that, who needs enemies?
Anyway, after talking for a while, Veronica and I took our clothes off and she began to gently suck my dick. Suddenly there was loud knocking on the door. We both were startled, and I hastily put my clothes back on.
Veronica was still naked, when she opened the door just a crack and whispered to someone on the other side. Then she turned around and said: "Sorry, my friend needs to get something out of the room."
"Can't that wait?" I asked.
"No, the room is actually in her name. She's just letting me use it. So I have to let her in," she replied.
She opened the door, and some grimey, mangy old crackwhore with sun-damaged leathery skin, no teeth and strawy hair that looked like a bird's nest came into the room and frantically searched everywhere for something.
I felt really uncomfortable, because that woman obviously knew that Veronica and I were having sex in her room. Awkwarrrd. But Leatherface didn't care. Her mind was on whatever she was trying to find in the room. There was a hectic sense of urgency about her. Veronica gave me a look that said: "I'm so sorry. It's not my fault. My friend is crazy."
Then Veronica said to Leatherface: "Can I have some privacy with my friend?"
Leatherface was visibly annoyed and said: "I'm doing you a favor so chill the fuck out! I just need to find my fucking stem!"
Finally Leatherface walked out of the room, and angrily slammed the door behind her.
"She was looking for her crackpipe," Veronica explained.
I took my clothes off, and she started to suck my dick again. She had to start all over, because I lost my erection. I loved being inside of her mouth. She was so beautiful. I got hard again. Then Leatherface started banging on the door again. This was getting rrreally annoying.
Ever since my father tried to break down my bedroom door and kill my mother and me, I have been suffering from PTSD myself. I never really knew that that's what it was, until I happened to run across some articles about PTSD many years later. But all my life I've had a hard time being emotionally grounded in the moment. I have always been emotionally detached, removed from the situation. I've always felt like an observer rather than a participant. I often feel like I am an audience member watching my life, instead of being in the starring role.
Nothing that happens to me or around me ever makes me extremely angry, even if that is the appropriate reaction. And nothing makes me extremely happy, not even when I got my first $92,000 check for my Embarrassing Moments website. And nothing makes me extremely sad or scared. Everything is just sorta ho-humm, as if the part of my brain that's responsible for the appropriate emotional response is padded in styrofoam.
Things barely register on my emotional scale. It's as if my emotions are stuck in neutral. My divorce from Donna and the resulting depression were the only thing I really really felt in a long time. And the even deeper, almost suicidal depression after losing Alice too was the strongest, most painful thing I had ever felt in my life.
When my father killed himself, it didn't really faze me. I was kinda relieved that he was gone. And when my grandparents died, it didn't really bother me all that much either, because I wasn't that close with them. Divorcing Donna and then losing Alice were literally the two most painful things that had ever happened to me. Besides that, nothing really felt much like anything, good or bad.
Even when I have a naked girl right in front of me, the situation doesn't seem real enough, not intense enough, to get much of an emotional reaction out of me. Just being in the same room with a beautiful naked girl is not enough to get me aroused. Not even if she is lying in bed right next to me. I might as well be standing next to a little old lady at a bus stop.
A girl actually has to touch me before I get hard. And even then I have to force myself to really concentrate on the moment, really concentrate on what I'm feeling right now, and really focus on the fact that I'm having sex. And even the smallest distraction, like annoying rap music on the radio, will make me lose focus.
So when Leatherface kept banging on the hotel room door every few minutes while I was trying to have sex with Veronica, it was not helping at all.
"I'm sooo sorry, but she's not gonna stop until she takes a hit," Veronica said. "Just bear with me. I'm gonna have to let her back in and help her find her pipe. But you don't have to get dressed again. Just chill in bed."
Veronica let Leatherface back in the room, and they looked for the crackpipe together for a couple of minutes. Veronica was naked the whole time. She had no shame. Leatherface finally found the pipe in her bag on the floor next to the bed I was lying in, naked under the covers.
"What's up?" Leatherface asked me.
"Hey, what's up," I replied nonchalantly, pretending to be Mr. Cool, like this situation was totally normal and I wasn't weirded out at all. Just another Tuesday night. No biggie.
Leatherface left and Veronica started to suck my dick for the third time. She was very gentle and it felt really good. She got me really hard. Then I got on top of her. I couldn't wait to finally be inside of her pussy. And it felt amazing. Warm and soft. She lay there with her legs spread wide, quietly, barely moving her hips, kissing me, gently embracing me, softly running her hands down my back, and pulling me deeper inside of her. She didn't try to control the rythm and she didn't overact like a porn star. She was perfect.
For some reason I was more turned on by her than by any other girl I had been with before. Maybe it was her breasts. They looked completely different than Donna's. Veronica had smallish, perky, young girl breasts, with very small nipples. They were the most beautiful breasts I had ever seen, even if they were by no means the biggest. They were completely unspoiled by age or gravity. I kept looking at them, and kissing them, while thrusting my rock hard dick into her perfect little pussy faster and faster.
I was about to cum, when Leatherface started banging on the door again. "I need the room!" she yelled.
"God damn! What the fuuuck?!" I moaned.
"Go ahead, baby, finish. Cum inside of me," Veronica whispered.
"I can't now. All that banging on the door is really distracting," I said.
"Yeah you can. Let me feel you cum in my pussy. I want to feel your warm cum in me," Veronica whispered while kissing my neck.
But it was no use. It was all over for me. There was no way I was gonna cum now. Especial
ly not while I was picturing Leatherface standing on the other side of the door, tapping her foot impatiently.
I got dressed. I was really frustrated. Veronica felt guilty. She gave me a worried look and apologized over and over. "I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you next time, if you want to see me again," she said.
Sex and Crime: Oliver's Strange Journey Page 29