This is the tale of some of the days of my life. As the title says, I am your run of the mill, friendly, mild-mannered and soft-spoken psychopath. As I got older and wiser, I realized that my life was becoming quite a story that really needed to be told. Having never gotten the hang of writing, I found myself a personal biographer who was kind enough to volunteer.
These are the stories that I told him on our long evenings together in his mansion in western Maine. Think of this as 'Interview with a Vampire' but without all (or most) of the blood and gore.
Be advised: Acts may be described that some people would perceive as violent. Also some acts of an explicit sexual nature will be mentioned. In all cases I am just telling it as it happened, nothing added, nothing hidden. Foul language, I have always felt, is for those who have no other means of expressing themselves and will only occur when actually spoken by such individuals.
So sit up and pay attention! You are about to get an insight into the life of a truly free and self-sustained individual; it will lighten up your short and pointless existence.
Northern America, Midwest, sometime last decade
It was one of these afternoons. Scientists had just proven that it would be possible to grow donor hearts outside the human body and I had acquired another speck of dirt on my brand new shoes. It is strange: If you shine an old pair of shoes they look good for days on end, but a new shine on a new pair of shoes gets dirty in minutes. How does dirt know that your shoes are new?
Anyway, I did not mean to get carried away: There I was, dirty shoe and all, at the entrance of the Hilton in some reasonably large Midwestern town. I really cannot remember its' name and when you think about it; if they really wanted you to remember, they would make these names descriptive and memorable would they not? "You are now leaving 'Stinking Cesspool With Many Lights' - you come back now!" That I would remember!
A snot-nosed kid, 17 tops, dressed in a portiere uniform, rushed up to the door ahead of me, activated the sliding doors and then stepped back with a smug smile. Apparently I looked like someone who would be unduly strained by having to activate sliding doors. I paused long enough to give him a good kick over the calf (using the filthy shoe) and proceeded to the doors. Sadly, kicking him had detained me long enough for the doors to get bored and start closing. Instantly I was back in Nam (where I spent a hellish vacation two years earlier, opening my own doors all week) and flung myself through the diminishing gap, just making it.
I rolled a couple of times, barely missed a marble ashtray and came to rest next to a pair of some of the longest legs I had ever seen. They just went on and on. From my angle it looked like only a pair of boobs and a chin topped them. I knew that was highly unlikely and returned my sights to the legs instead. They were pearly white and smooth. I moved my head in between them and could almost make out the outline of a vagina, but there was too little light. I was just about to get my lighter when the female started screaming for no discernable reason. I got up and walked away.
The hall porter was a large, triple chinned man who seemed to be resting against both sides and front of his desk area all at once. He looked like something out of a Monty Python movie and I felt an absurd urge to feed him a chocolate mint.
"Can I help you, sir?" he said with a voice so high pitched that I actually rose on my toes to look for the woman he was hiding. There seemed to be no one there and I smiled down at him just in case he was an incredibly ugly, unshaved female. Living on the edge teaches you not to be picky!
He squirmed under my glare in what was either a brilliant imitation of a straight man being hit on by a homosexual or the real thing. Letting him off the hook I said:
"I'll have your cheapest room and a bottle of you finest Scotch." I had no intention of staying in or paying for the room, but I had standards to uphold. He seemed nonplussed and started tipping on his computer. The card I gave him turned out to be valid, but I had expected no less. I had had it for less than an hour and the previous owner should still be unconscious if indeed he was ever going to come around again.
I was given my key-card and a 'good day' and made my way to the elevator. It was one of these brass-and-mirror-jobs that look like they are keeping two cleaning ladies busy all day. Never the less I was somewhat surprised to see two Hispanic ladies in aprons and white gloves busily working away in the elevator. One - middle-aged-ish, short hair, fat - was shining brass on her knees just by the entrance.
I pressed the button for the top floor and waited till the elevator was between 2. and 3. Then I hit the emergency brake. I never wear underwear and when the fat one turned her head to see what was wrong, I had my penis ready. Grapping her jaw with my left hand I pushed lightly and inserted my tool when she opened up. She did not generate much suction but the height was just right and I was able to push it all the way in. My testicles hammered repeatedly against her chin and were tickled each time by her facial hair.
The novelty wore off fast. I pulled out of her oral cavity and indicated that I was done and that she was free to continue her work. Then I turned to the other one who was staring wide-eyed at my love-muscle. She was maybe twenty, beautiful and petite (French for 'small with big brown eyes and long dark hair'). She had been polishing the mirrors in the back and was still half turned away from me. I grabbed her hips and pulled her towards me. She started jabbering away in that incomprehensible language of hers and kept saying something that sounded like 'non, non', but who can tell what such strange noises might mean?
The short uniform was easily pushed up and the panties pulled down. She looked dry, so I told her to play with it while I put on a condom, but I don't think she understood me. She bowed down and grabbed her panties instead. I placed a foot on them and shook my head when she looked up at me. I held her eyes for a couple of seconds and then lifted my foot and let her free her fingers. She seemed to resign herself to the facts of the situation and stepped out of the panties and widened her stance.
At exactly that time I had the condom secured and was ready to rumble. I spat on two fingers and applied the moisture to the condom. Then I neared my face to the light-brown ass and spat twice at the rear hole. When my saliva reached her little love-hole I caught it with the tip of my rod and made a few stabs at penetrating her. We were still a little too dry but working slowly and carefully (lest I break the condom - you can never know where these brown girls spend their nights) I made way.
Halfway down the road I felt a familiar blockage and retracted quickly. There are a lot of things that can be wrong with a virgin of course, but most of them won't kill you! Playing the odds I ripped the condom off and placed myself at her entrance again. De-virginization is a specialty of mine: If you do it wrongly, it can be quite painful, but done correctly there is virtually no pain involved. I pressed back into her and swirled my (little) head, looking for the weakest spot. It was located in her left side a little toward her back, as, strangely, it often is. Clenching my teeth I took aim and rammed through at full speed. As most always it worked and I felt no pain.