She let a little moan slip. I had to admit: she looked hot in that lingerie one piece. And she looked cute in that makeup. I liked the way she cupped her breasts with her hands and squeezed as she rocked back and forth. She let more of her weight weigh down on my face. I could feel the rubbery rim of her asshole now rubbing against my chin. Her lips were parted and now I could taste the sweet wetness of her cunt. I could feel the little bulb of her clit teasing my top lip. “Oh, shit,” she moaned after a minute, and then a sudden gush of warm liquid suddenly fell on my face. Some of it got into my mouth. And that was all I could take. I gently pushed her off and then I used the pillowcase to wipe my face. Little known fact: female squirting is mostly just pee—and I didn’t like being peed on.
“Sorry,” she said. “But I feel like you secretly liked it.”
“Don’t be gross,” I said. “Roll the die.”
She picked up the die and tossed it. She landed on a blue space, so she picked up a blue card. “So all you have to do this time is watch,” she said with a big grin. She reached into the game box and pulled out a small blue dildo. She brought it up to her lips and ran her tongue along the rim of the toy. I wondered if she washed it before I got home. I didn’t think that anyone had used it before, but it was certainly handled by someone at the game factory—whoever put it in that box. And maybe they didn’t wash their hands after using the bathroom.
And what kind of game comes with a dildo? It also came with that satin blindfold, and who knows what else was in there. It must have been very expensive, setting us back quite a bit.
Angie brought the dildo down to her pussy. Her cheeks were red. She looked down at the toy and pressed a little button, making it hum as it vibrated. She’d never masturbated in front of me before, so this was a first—and I’d obviously never watched her masturbate before. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. But the sight of her rubbing that dildo up and down her wet pussy was arousing. My cock started to harden, rising up. I couldn’t pull my gaze away. I took a deep breath as she gently sunk the blue toy into her cunt. She let a little gasp slip as her legs trembled. The black lingerie was blacker around her crotch, which was all wet now.
I was tempted to reach down and stroke my cock, but I didn’t do it. The thought of masturbating in front of my girlfriend was too embarrassing. But I was very much enjoying the show she was putting on—which stopped suddenly. “That was a minute. Now it’s your turn,” she said with a grin. I could feel that my face was red hot.
I rolled the die and landed on a blue space. I picked up a card. It took a moment for me to figure out what the picture was. My heart sunk into my stomach when I realized. It was a woman on her stomach, with a man eating out her asshole. “Do I really have to do this?” I asked.
“You do. But don’t tell me what it is,” she said. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”
“But it’s just gross. It’s not sexy at all.”
“Babe—just try it for crying out loud. It’s not going to kill you.”
I sighed and put the card down. I bit hard on my tongue. I didn’t want to do it. It just seemed gross. I never understood why men were obsessed with assholes. Men have assholes too, and they aren’t any different than the ones women have—so why the interest? It’s almost like men don’t understand what the purpose of an asshole is…
“Lay on your stomach,” I said with heavy reluctance in my voice. She flopped onto her stomach and I got into position. I shook my head before pulling aside that thin strip of fabric covering her tight hole. Then I spread her cheeks, revealing that puckering anus. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do it.
I leaned in and stuck out my tongue. I closed my eyes tightly and I could feel my skin turning a slight shade of green—but I managed to tease the rim of her hole regardless. It didn’t taste gross like I was expecting. It actually tasted like nothing, which was relieving. I ran the tip of my tongue in circles, and hoped that would be enough. Angie swayed her hips slightly, pressing her butt cheeks upwards, as if she wanted me to dive in deeper. I stuck my tongue deeper, penetrating her tight hole. I didn’t go too deep at first. She wasn’t sitting on my face this time, so she couldn’t control what I did. But as I realized it wasn’t so gross, I went deeper. I liked the way she squirmed as my tongue moved around inside of her. Maybe eating asshole was something I could get used to. But I still wanted all of this nonsense to be done with.
“I think that’s a minute,” I said, wiping my face. She sat up with a red-cheeked smile. Maybe she was having fun—but I still thought all of this was a giant waste of time and money. “It’s your turn.”
She rolled the die. “Red card!” she announced, as if it was a big deal. Both of our pieces were now in red card territory, so it was probably going to be mostly red cards until the end of the game. She picked up a card quickly and held it close to her face. She made a big smile. “Maybe I should pick something different,” she said.
“Or maybe we should just have sex and be done with this,” I said.
“C’mon. Let’s just live a little bit. Roll onto your stomach,” she said.
My heart fluttered. Why did I have to be on my stomach? If it were a blue card, I would have assumed that I was going to get a back rub—but it wasn’t a blue card. It was a red card, which meant it was something sexual. I was slow getting onto my stomach. She wrapped that blindfold over my eyes. “Okay, just don’t freak out,” she said. And then there was a silence. I felt strangely exposed on that bed, even though I was just in the company of my girlfriend of nearly four years. I took a deep breath, and then I suddenly felt it: the dull tip of that sex toy pressing between my butt cheeks. She was about to fuck me in the ass!
I sprung up and threw off the blindfold. “Are you crazy?” I said as I stood next to the bed.
She showed me the card: a picture of a girl sticking a dildo into a man’s asshole. “It’s on the card,” she said.
“I don’t care if it’s on the fucking card. This is crazy. This game is stupid. And now we can’t get our money back because it’s used.”
“It won’t kill you to just try it,” she said.
“I don’t want to try it. I don’t want to try any of those disgusting cards. I need to go brush my teeth.”
“You need to live a little bit,” she said.
“Maybe you need to tone down the living,” I said before storming off. My heart was still pounding. I couldn’t believe she actually tried sticking a dildo in my ass. I felt sick—but I would feel sicker in the morning, and I had no idea.
CHAPTER II
I was surprised when I rolled over and threw my arm over a pillow the next morning. It took me a moment to realize Angie wasn’t in the bed, which was unusual because I was almost always up before Angie. “Angie?” I called out, thinking she was maybe in the bathroom. But the bathroom door was open and inside was dark. I looked over at the clock. It wasn’t quite 7:00 AM. At first, I thought she was in another room planning some sort of sex surprise—it would be hard to top the stupidity of the board game.
I sat up slowly and called for her again. “Angie? You there?” The whole house was dark and I could hardly see—but something felt off. The room felt strangely empty and the whole house seemed strangely quiet. I got up and placed my feet down on the cold floor. Angie had always begged me to get in-floor heating in the bedroom, but it was terribly expensive, especially since we hardly ever spent any time in the bedroom, unless we were sleeping.
I went down to the living room, which also seemed strangely empty. “Angie? Are we playing hide and seek now, or what?” I flicked on a light and saw that the mantle was missing a few items. I walked over. Our pictures were still there, and so were the little knick-knacks I had before we moved in together—but all of her things were gone. “Angie?” I called out one more time, and then I noticed the note on the kitchen table.
“George, I’m leaving you. We had a good run. I’m sorry that I left in the middle of the night. Over the past few months, I’v
e come to realize that we just aren’t compatible. You like your comfort zone and I need some excitement in my life. We keep trying to change each other, and that’s not fair to either of us. I’ll be staying with my parents until I find a place of my own. But I really do wish you the best of luck. Love, Angie.”
I fell down onto the nearby chair. I took a deep breath. My heart was a stuttering mess. I read the note again, and then I pinched my arm in an attempt to end the nightmare. But it wasn’t a nightmare—the note was real. I ran and grabbed my phone. I called Angie, but her phone was turned off. I paced around for the next twenty minutes. Her parents lived in a different province, almost a thousand kilometers away. I couldn’t just get in my car and drive to her, especially if her mind really was made up—it would be a complete waste of time and gas. But what else could I do, other than accept the reality that I was now single?
I finally got Angie on the phone three days later. It was a short phone call. I ended up crying and saying, “Is this because I wouldn’t let you put the dildo in my ass?”
“It’s not because of that, George. We’re just different people. Maybe things can be different one day. But I need to be with someone who isn’t afraid to live a little bit. I used to think that I knew you, but now I don’t even think you ever knew yourself.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I need to go, George. We can still be friends. Maybe call me in a few weeks and let me know what you’ve been up to.”
“In a few weeks? Why in a few weeks?”
“I’m going to Cambodia. I don’t think I’ll get very good cell service there.”
“Cambodia? With who?”
“By myself. I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Are you insane? This is literally the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Bye, George,” she said, and then she hung up the phone. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was still in shock, still waiting to wake up from the nightmare, still waiting to roll over in my bed and feel her warm body next to me. But each morning, I rolled over and felt only the cold sheets. She was really gone.
It was another couple of weeks before I started to accept reality. Angie was gone and I was alone now. And maybe she was right—maybe we were never really good together. She always wanted to do crazy things, and I liked the status quo.
But now that she was gone, I wasn’t sure if I really did like the status quo. Now, I could really stick to my comfort zone. I could eat my toast and butter every morning, and then have my basic takeout each night. I didn’t have to go to see raunchy comedy movies or gross horror movies. I didn’t have to try to find new restaurants because Angie didn’t like eating at the same place twice, even if that place was perfectly fine. I could wash the bed sheets at the same time every Friday without being judged and called neurotic. But it got boring fast. I no longer had Angie around to spice things up, and I couldn’t decide whether or not that’s what I wanted.
It had been a long time since I’d masturbated to pornography. Angie was always open to have sex when we were dating, so there was never much need for masturbation (occasionally I would succumb to my urges and rub one out in the shower). Now, I had no way of getting off, and no one around to see what I was doing. So for the first time in nearly four years, I pulled out my laptop (after closing all of the blinds in the house) and went to a porn website. I was shocked to see how much variety there was—much more than there was four years before.
I clicked on a video with a particularly sexy woman. The video started with her by herself, doing a bit of a strip tease. It seemed nice and vanilla, and the production value was good. She had big, fake tits, but they didn’t look bad. I liked the way she rubbed her nipples between her thumbs and fingers. A man came into the room and immediately started sucking her tits. She made some sexy faces as if she was really liking it. My cock was already hard, so I started stroking myself.
The man got the girl down onto all fours, and then he flipped up her skirt. He pulled aside her panties and started eating out her asshole. I was surprised to find that I wasn’t put off, now that I knew eating out an asshole wasn’t really gross as long as the girl is clean—and the girl in the video certainly looked clean.
Then the girl sucked the man’s cock. He had a big cock—bigger than mine. I was never very fond of watching other guys get sucked, so I skipped ahead in the video. Now the girl was on her stomach and the man was fucking her in the ass. I rolled my eyes. Of course it was an anal video. Apparently pussies just didn’t cut it for guys anymore. The cameraman got in close, showing that thick cock sliding in and out of that tight hole. Then they showed the girl’s face as she had a very long orgasm. And I had to admit: the orgasm looked real. And goddamn, she was sexy.
And then the man pulled her up onto her knees, so he could fuck her doggy style. He reached down between her legs and grabbed her pussy. But he wasn’t grabbing a pussy—he was grabbing a cock. I gasped, and winced back. The woman was actually a man: a tranny. I was watching tranny porn.
I looked at the title of the video: ‘Sexy trap gets a nice ass fucking.’ What’s a trap? Was ‘trap’ the new word for tranny? I felt sick and strangely guilty. My head was spinning, as if I’d just been terribly betrayed by my own computer. I took a few deep breaths and found another video to watch. The woman in the new video had a pussy, which squirted when fucked, just like Angie’s pussy. I had to pick another video, because the squirting made me think too much of Angie, sending me into a bit of a depression.
The new video was basic enough: a woman being fucked missionary-style. It was an amateur video, but it did the trick. I got off quickly, cleaned everything up, and went on with my day. And the very next day, I found myself back on that porno website, looking for a new video to do the trick again.
It was three days later when I got tricked again.
I was watching a video of a sexy woman being fucked in the ass. She was still wearing her panties, which the man had pulled aside, and she was still wearing her skirt, which the man had flipped onto her back. I watched that video for nearly ten minutes, jerking myself off while the girl’s beautiful tits bounced up and down and back and forth. I was just about to come when her cock fell out of her panties and started to drip long strands of white cum. It was another trap video, but this time there was no warning in the title.
But it was hard to believe. The woman was so pretty. Her body was so perfect and her face was so convincing. But that cock didn’t lie: she was actually a man, at least biologically speaking. And I couldn’t click away from the video. I was already coming. My legs were trembling and I didn’t want to ruin the orgasm. So I stared at that woman’s coming cock while I came, and then I felt horribly guilty and gross at the same time. It was all I could think about for the next hour. Why was the Internet suddenly filled with so much tranny pornography? How had it become so popular in four years? Were people actually getting off to it, or was it all just there to prank guys like me, who were unsuspecting?
I ended up finding a porn website for boring men like me. It was actually a porn website for women, but the videos were more my speed: vaginal sex between men and women, without too much rough stuff, except for the odd spanking (which wasn’t really my thing).
Angie called me after her month-long trip to Cambodia. I was half-expecting her to tell me she wanted me back. I was not at all prepared for what she really had to say. “I’m really not sure I should be telling you this, but I met a guy in Cambodia. His name is Karl. He’s Swedish. I’m going to live with him in Sweden for a while. You would like him. He’s really nice.”
I was speechless. I wasn’t able to muster up any sounds—not even a murmur. “George? Are you there? You aren’t upset, are you?”
“No,” I managed to say. And it was all I managed to say before saying, “I should get going. Bye.” I spent the next week in a depression. I couldn’t believe how quickly she’d managed to move on. Was she never really that int
o me, or was it easier for her to move on because she was out doing things? Maybe I needed to get out and do things. Maybe I needed to spend less time sulking in my apartment. But what could I do? Where could I go? I didn’t want to go to Cambodia. I didn’t even want to leave my apartment to go to a bar. But I needed to do something, or the depression would soon take over my life.
CHAPTER III
It was a couple of weeks later when I installed Tinder on my phone. I’d never used it before. In fact, it didn’t even exist before Angie and I had started dating. So it took me a while to figure out (I even had to watch a YouTube tutorial to figure out how to properly swipe).
I swiped right on a series of pretty girls, and then I swiped right on a series of average girls. I wasn’t expecting to match with the pretty ones, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. I was just looking for any excuse to get out on a date, so I could start the process of getting over Angie, even though it had already been two months since she’d left me. I was shocked when my phone dinged to let me know I’d matched with a girl.
Her name was Cary and she was a petite blonde with a cute button nose. I stared at the empty chat screen, trying to think of something to say. I read online that the guy should always open with a joke if possible, but I couldn’t think of any joke, so I went with a simple, “How are you doing, Cary?” After sending the message, I realized that I sounded old like the girl’s grandpa.
“I’m doing great. How are you doing?” she replied. And I was shocked that she replied. Maybe this dating thing wouldn’t be so hard. Maybe there was a chance for me after all.
Womanized Page 7
