Wrath White - Like Porno for Psychos

My eyes fell upon a diminutive Winona Rider look-a-like with breasts so large they seemed to be nearly half her body weight. She was wearing a black motorcycle jacket similar to mine, overtop a thin white tank top through which her large round breasts were clearly visible. The tiny hard nipples seemed to be pointing right at me. Her eyes clouded over with that smoky hypnotic lust that identified her as a fellow sex addict, even as her clothing identified her as a lesbian.

She wore tight, black Levis with a thick leather belt. A small chain led from her belt loop to the leather wallet in her pocket. She had about six little silver hoop earrings in her right ear and four in the left. On her leather jacket was a small pink triangle. I normally tried to steer clear of my kindred addicts as they represented a high-risk group, but as lesbians were at the lowest risk for AIDS, I had often made exceptions where they were concerned. I looked at the small cotton swab taped to the inside of my arm and thought to myself that it was all a moot point now.

I returned her gaze with an equally lascivious look complete with a head to toe appraisal. We both smiled. I turned and walked down the steps onto Haight Street. I looked at the line that trailed all the way down the steps of the free clinic, out the door, and down the street, all the way to the Panhandle. I saw a guy that I knew from the clubs standing in line with his girlfriend. I wasn’t sure whether that was sweet or just tacky.

“Yo, what’s up Ali?” I said.

“’Sup, Shark? You got yours already?”

“Yeah, bro. I ain’t even been to sleep yet. I been in line since I got off work at two in the morning and there were still like two hundred people ahead of me.”

“Yeah, you oughta been.” Ali whipped his neat, perfectly, groomed dreadlocks back out of his face and flashed his feline, almond eyes at the scrawny little white girl with the mousy brown hair that clung to his arm like it was a life line. She was so pale she could have gotten a sunburn indoors at night.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m sayin’ you done fucked half the bitches in this town. It’s a wonder you ain’t dead already. You’s one lucky muthafucka.”

“It’s not luck, dude.” I held up a six pack of Trojan Magnums. “I live in Latex.”

I knew there were rumors going around about my sexual exploits. The chains with the leather restraints that hung from the ceiling in the living room of my apartment didn’t help matters. I put them up there when I was dating this stripper who was heavy into S&M and B&D. I’m not really as sexually extravagant as people think. My tastes are pretty simple. I like to fuck. Where, how, and who doesn’t really matter that much. I’m open-minded. If a girl wants me to tie her up and whip her that’s cool as long as the night ends with my nuts slapping against her ass and my cum dripping off her chin. My preference is sex as opposed to no sex.

“I hear that shit. What’s up for tonight?” Ali asked. His girlfriend was still attached to his side like some kind of 112 pound parasite. She stared out at me with huge wide eyes and her expression seemed to change along with Ali’s. She never said a word. The chick was weird.

“I got a cult meeting tonight.”

“A cult meeting?”

“Yeah, you know...Sex Addicts Anonymous. My daily reprogramming session.”

“It don’t look like that shit is working. I heard you got thrown out of the Sound Factory last night for fucking one of the cocktail waitresses behind the speakers.”

“She told me no one goes back there. Dude, there was like three other couples back there. Security swooped down on us before I could even get my nut off.”

Ali rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Yeah, that’s a real tragedy.” He replied sarcastically, “Hey, yo, the line’s moving. I’ll peep you later.”

“Cool.”

The young raven-haired lesbian emerged from the clinic. Her breasts were bobbling around under her T-shirt like a bag of basketballs, the nipples poked through like tiny pink darts. I turned to look her full in the face as she walked up towards me, smiling up at me from chest level.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” I asked.

“Simon.”

“Simone?”

“No, Simon.” She said forcefully.

“Alright. That’s cool. My name is Shark.”

“Shark?”

“Yeah,”

“Is that your real name? I mean is that what your mother named you?”

I looked at her like she was an idiot.

“Stupid question, huh? Well, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

I smiled, trying hard not to let too much of my lust show through in the expression. Still, I jumped right to the point. I knew what she was and she knew what I was. There was no need for formalities between sex addicts.

“You have anywhere you need to be?”

She shrugged,

“Not for about two hours.”

Our eyes burned into each other and I noticed her pelvis was making small circles, humping the air, even as I noticed that mine was doing the same. I could almost smell the taste of her arousal. My erection was clearly visible, forming a tent beneath my baggy Hugo Boss jeans. She reached out and casually traced her finger down the length of my manhood without breaking eye contact.

“Let’s go to my place.” I said

“We’ll take my car,” She replied. We could both barely suppress the urge to run to her little white ‘79 Volvo, parked on the other side of Haight street.

My senses were on fire with want. The ride from the free clinic to my apartment was only four blocks but I’d already unbuttoned her pants and slid my hands down between her legs into her silky wetness. I had two fingers sliding in and out of her pussy while my thumb flicked back and forth over her clit. She reached over and unzipped my pants, pulling my engorged member out of my pants, stroking it with her right hand while still driving with her left. I continued to finger her wet little pussy.

We pulled up into the driveway of my apartment. I couldn’t wait until we got inside. I wanted her now. I pulled my pants completely off as we sat in the car. She looked at me quizzically, then smiled, leaned over, and swallowed the whole length of my erection, taking all nine inches down her throat. I was amazed. I could feel her tonsils. Her head bobbed up and down slowly at first then faster. Her lips and tongue slid along the smooth skin of my bloated organ accompanied by her hand, which had the shaft of my cocked gripped firmly. I played with her nipples and watched her beautiful face as she pleasured me. A tingling sensation went from my balls to the base of my cock. I lifted her head from my groin, dislodging my cock from her mouth with an audible “Slurp!”. It was too soon to cum. I reached my hands under her arms and lifted her onto my turgid flesh.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Do you have a condom?”

She began to laugh and my own booming laughter joined in. With the exception of pregnancy, for which there had long been an antidote, we would never again need a condom for any reason. It was such a liberating realization that it seemed to arouse us both even greater. I lowered her onto me, feeling the wetness of her, the tightness of her, the delicious sensations of flesh cocooned within flesh that no condom or lubricant could come close to simulating. She bounced up and down on my dick, pounding it deep inside her as we fucked furiously in her little Volvo. I clutched her tiny hips and pulled her even deeper. She let out a little squeal as I pushed up into her guts. She pulled off her T-shirt, revealing the most magnificent set of titties I’d ever seen. I greedily sucked and licked at her hard little nipples as her breasts bounced up and down to our rhythm, slapping me in my face. The little Volvo rocked and swayed.