September 1, 2009

a note from Fornicator

Hey, you bunch of pansies, it's Fornicator From The Asylum. I know you've been anxious to hear from me. Jesus, it's only been a couple of days. I told you not to get your fucking panties in a bind. Sometimes it takes awhile to get computer access around here. You gotta know who to fuck, and when they want it, and even then it’s a crapshoot. Trust me-you try the wrong nurse on the wrong night and you find yourself in fucking solitary. Which is fine if you like sleeping in your own shit. (Not that I'm judging you if scat is your cup of tea. Let she who is without sin, and all that jizz… ) Anyway, you'll be lucky if you hear from me once a month. We've been getting a lot of new inmates lately. Must be the humidity. Humidity brings out the sexual psychotics like the full moon brings out the weirdos. It's a scientific fact. But I promised you something when first we met, didn’t I? Far be it from me to blather on about the asylum when there you sit, lube on deck and dick in hand, waiting…

We are alone in this dim cellar. The air is moist and somehow virile. Furry dark things linger in the shadows in malevolent anticipation. I can feel you looking at me in the dark. You move closer, out of the darkness and into the faint circle of light cast from the dirty bare lightbulb, and your eyes are narrowed and there is a vague smile on your face. I can't tell precisely what it means, that smile, but I know I'm gonna get it, and good. You slap me across the face and I feel the heat rise there. And as you grab me by the hair and shove my face against the wall, I feel the heat rise in other places, too. I feel the cold rough concrete of the basement wall against my skin as you force your other hand between my thighs, parting my legs, opening me up with your fingers, and then your dick slams its way home and you fuck me fuck me fuck me against the wall. You finish and abruptly withdraw, wiping the cum that drips off your dick onto my ass cheeks. And I am left slumped on the cold basement floor, sticky and raw and scraped and bleeding, and I grin.

Until next time, my darling fornicators...

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