Roger Hornsby - The sex procurer

Suddenly I was shaken. It upset me badly. I didn't want to be locked out. I didn't want her to win a victory over me. So I pleaded with her, urged her to leg me enter the apartment one last time. "For old times' sake," I pleaded. "Please let me be with you just this one afternoon, Janice. Please."

She relented and let me in. I tried to ease the situation by speaking of different matters. Soon we were drinking pop together and were again on that sofa in the living room. This time, though, she wore a dress, and she kept trying to stay away from me. She begged me to respect her on that one last occasion.

And that's when I said, "All right, Janice. Just let me fuck you one last time, and I'll never ask for anything else. Honest I won't. Will you do that? Will you let me fuck you one last time?"

She said it wouldn't work. She said there was nothing left between us. She said I ought to go. But she didn't outright refuse me, and I moved in for the kill. It wasn't long before she was in my arms begging me not to go further, and yet yielding up to me all I ever wanted. Within mere minutes, she was stripped and we were ready for action.

That's when I suggested we go into the bedroom. "No," she said. "The baby's awake. He'll cry." It was exactly what I wanted. And I finally made her go with me there for the screwing. Let that little bastard see his mother getting dicked.

He bawled, of course, in the minute I appeared. Janice fretted, tried to soothe him, but was too hot from my constant cunt-tickling the whole time she was soothing him. And, being the broad she was, a broad like all broads, she flipped and let me throw my meat to her while her kid bawled in his crib beside the wide bed where I savagely stuck my dick deep into his mama's narrow and small twat.

And I banged her with a vengeance. Oh, it was a beautiful fuck. I felt my dick's head skin back and forth against the lining of her vault, and I wanted to cream the world, so good was the feeling. And she responded in kind, forgetting totally about the bawling little bastard who stood in the crib, holding its rails, screaming his torment and fear at what he witnessed.

Then when she was again up those scales, I pulled out. But this time I didn't intend coming in her face. I had something else planned. I went off the bed and brought from my jacket pocket a series of silk scarves tied together the way magicians tie scarves together. And I began inserting them to her bunghole.

She was confounded. "What are you doing?" she asked dumbly even while she desperately tried to bring me atop her again to ride her to that come she badly wanted. "What are you doing, anyway?" And she cried out from the pain of taking scarves up her ass even while she tried to get away from the stuffing act.

I told her to shut up or I would beat the shit out of her. When she tried to fight me away, I punched her face hard, almost knocking her out, but definitely stopping her resistance. Meanwhile Randy bawled in his crib louder than ever.

Then I succeeded in getting every single one of those scarves up her bunghole. I left only the tip of the final one sticking from her rectum. It was a little red thing and looked like her clit. And then I went back to fucking her.

Oh I had her worked up beautifully, believe me. She couldn't get enough of my wonderful stuff. I had her crying for more, moaning and begging that I bring her to a solid come. And you'd never think that she had a dozen scarves tied to each other up her asshole.

Once more when I had brought her almost to the top of the ladder, I stopped. But now I went into another kind of action. Even while she begged that I not halt, I was busily pulling – yanking, and damned hard! – that long line of scarves out of her bunghole. They seared her with the velocity with which I pulled them out, and soon she was coming insanely, screeching from the pain of those scarves tearing out her very asshole in their release. And she was rocketing to the moon, crying and screeching from the agony of her sudden violation, the ecstasy of her anguish.

It was beautiful. It was a little thing, a side touch, but it was beautiful. And before she could recover, I got out an electric cock I also had brought with me in my jacket. I inserted it to her asshole, turned up its controls to the fastest speed imaginable, plugged its cord to the wall socket and set it in motion. Then I took those same scarves and bound her hands and legs, stuffed enough into her mouth to gag her, and then did the final thing of all; I poured mustard and relish, also brought for the purpose, over her tits and belly, inserted a hot-dog to her twat, and took bawling Randy from his crib and turned him loose on his mama.

It was a lovely sight. She couldn't speak, couldn't stop fucking from that crazy electric cock up her asshole, couldn't stop her son from licking her tits and belly and finally trying to eat the hot-dog out of her cunt. All she could do was watch everything in terror, and cry, cry, cry. Poor fucking stupid idiotic bitch. She deserved everything she got.

But it was too much for me, and that's why I'm here. Don't ask me why. Maybe there's a time when we can't go on any further. Maybe there's a time when we suddenly come face-to-face with ourselves, see everything we've done, and wonder why we did a thing. I don't know. That's your job to figure out; not mine. I only know that, once I had left Janice and her little boy in that scene, something in me suddenly snapped, suddenly went out of me; and I found myself crying in the middle of the street, bawling at the traffic signals as I drove my car away in some new search for value that I suddenly realized more than ever that I never would find.

It's been six months now since all that happened, and nothing since then has really mattered. I've traveled the land, crossing and criss-crossing a nation. But there's no happiness. Do you realize that? There's no happiness. I just can't find happiness. And that's why I'm here, that's why I've told you everything. Maybe by revealing my sordid soul, I'll gain some kind of grace and salvation. I don't know. I've been thinking about religion; but I'm not much of a religious man. Yet somehow I know something's missing. I don't know what's missing, but something's missing. And all I can do now is ask for help. That's all I can do; just ask for help.

Can you help me?