FOUR STORIES
by anonymous

The sun sinks away into my hair. Strange contemporary electronic music on the radio confuses me. In the distance, a gunfight. It does not concern me. I am invincible. Pictures of you, enflamed, do not even singe my skin. I climb up a building. I masturbate, ejaculate truth. The weak and the displaced drink my rain. They learn to not care. They learn true happiness.

*

I am painting your name on the walls. Everyone must know your name! I use sky blue mixed with semen I drained from you myself. The lettering I use is long and thick. I think of your cock, long and thick and hard for me in bed every night. I think of you on top of me, taking me, whispering lustful imaginings in my ear. I think of me under your desk, sucking you off as you type away at your computer. I think of you and I together forever, kissing and resting and happy. I rub my cock hard, attach the new cock ring you purchased for my birthday, dip it into the blue-filled can, and paint my love.

*

She woke me. I was having a very strange dream about a long-haired man holding a copy of Kesey's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". He was walking on water and saying it's because he did a lot of crank.

"What?" I moaned.

"I . . . just had an orgasm," she said, kissing my collarbone.

"What?"

"I've read about this in some of my books. I just had a 'nocturnal orgasm'."

"What?"

"I was dreaming. I think you were there. Yes, you were. And you were taking me. I didn't want to, but you insisted. You just . . . took me, and . . . had me. You did everything to me.

"I was half-asleep. I mean, I was aware I was asleep and dreaming, but I was also aware that I was sleeping. I was touching myself. I had two fingers in me and in my dream you were taking me from behind and pulling my hair and talking real dirty to me."

"And then you came?"

"I came."

He kissed her forehead lightly. "That's nice," he said.

"Fuck me," she said.

He rubbed his eyes, looked at her. She wasn't going to let him fall back asleep.

So he fucked her. Hard and fast and rough, from behind, like in her dream.

"Talk dirty to me," she said. More like a demand.

He started talking.

She quivered and came almost instantly and then so did he (it felt too good) and they collapsed on the bed and soon they were both asleep, both very much content.

*

We were drinking together at her place. It wasn't like that, we were just friends. Had been so since before high school. She was married now. I was seeing someone. Her husband was at work. My girlfriend was out with her friends. So her and I were hanging out, drinking, talking.

"How's school going?" I asked.

"Good. Just a handful of classes to go before I finally graduate." She was a part-timer, going back to finish a degree she left nine years ago because she had no money. Now she could afford it.

I sipped my beer. "How's that Modern Europe class? I know you were having trouble with it last time we talked."

"That's no longer a problem."

"Did you hook up with a study group or something?"

"No."

"What then?"

"I let my professor fuck me."

I stared at her. "You let him fuck you?"

She smiled, nodded.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why not?"

"One, you're married. Two, you're better than that. Three, you're smarter than that. Four, you're married. Five . . . I can't think of five, but I'm sure there is a five, and I'm sure that there's also six through ten."

"One, the professor is fucking hot. I mean HOT. Two, he's done if before, my friends from school told me so. Three, I'm young and carefree, and poo poo to you if you have a problem with it."

I sighed.

"He fucked me in the ass," she said casually.

"In the ass?"

"He has a nice cock. Silky and long."

I sighed again. I finished my beer. I wanted another one. "Did you," I said, "at least use a condom?"

"Of course. I'm not dumb," she said.

"Does your husband know this?"

"Uh-huh."

"What does he have to say about this?"

"He shook his head a lot, just like you're doing. Then he fucked me for two days straight. He fucked till it hurt. He said he was gonna do it so good I'd never look at another man again."

"And did he?"

"He was good."

"Good?"

"Very good."

I sighed. She got up and got me another beer. I opened it and sipped it.

"The professor was just sex. It was good sex, but it was just sex. I love my husband. I'll never leave him."

I smiled. "I'm happy for you," I said.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because you're happy with him," I said.

She smiled, leaned over and kissed me. It was a nice kiss.

We talked more. Around one in the morning I left. We hugged, kissed again, and I went home. I stripped off my clothes and got into bed. I fell asleep wondering what a scene it must've been. The professor, young, studly, a female student bending over for him, spreading her ass for him, he inserting his silky and long cock into her waiting asshole, he fucking her in the ass, maybe coming in her ass, promising a good grade for the class, watching the cum drip out of her ass and down onto his desk, messing some important papers. (I knew they'd used a condom - she'd said so - but this's my imagination, and anything's possible. . . .)

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