The Restauranteur

Dear Diary, there was once a man so fat, and round, like Humpty Dumpty, and had a gnarly penis that smelled so badly of piss and vinegar. And I, being the desperate fool I was during that time as he was my only client, fucked him without a condom several times. I even let him orgasm in me.

He was "fixed" and he was manipulative and I had nothing going on in my life. He led me to believe that we were in a mutually beneficial and monogamous arrangement. Did I mention that, not only did he own a restaurant and has a cookbook out, he is the author of a piece of fiction? Alas, I was asleep at the wheel, and as cunning as he was, I shouldn't have bought into his lies and excuses!

Why did I allow him to defile me in such a manner? I felt guilty that he was an easy lay, and I did not want any further demands on his part to exceed my tolerance for sex with him. How shall I put this so you understand it? I was desperate, very desperate, for money. I have only been desperate for money twice in my life, and this was the second and last time. I was suffocating in my current relationship and dying to get out of it, my boyfriend and housemate abused me physically, tormented me mentally, and I suffered a great deal emotionally. I could not find God when I needed him the most, I hated the thought of going back to "work," hence hooking up the familiar old face of "Un-Savory."

"Un-Savory" is originally from upstate New York. He shared a house with his brother in Washington DC and rented the attic to some man who also worked in the restaurant business. And, on occasion, Un-Savory's son would visit and stay in the guest room. I had an ad in the local rag and Un-Savory was my second caller. He was friendly, he was eager, and he was well to do. We met before I became entangled in my own private Les Liaisons Dangereuses with the utterly despicable boyfriend who would enter the picture months down the road.

Un-Savory was one hell of a cook, my dear Diary, and it was through his meticulous preparations of hearty New England stews, chowders, and other gastronomical delights, plus the assortment of delicious wines, that rendered me helpless and under his spell. Each visit was a culinary feast and I felt so taken well taken care of and secure with him. With food like his, one could easily gain weight and not so easily shed the pounds yet he was in a perpetual state of denial. Each time I had to nod my head in agreement as he stated that he was losing weight. He only looked fat to me and worsening.

Now to his penis. His penis was small and stood like the Lone Cypress on a huge, hilly mound. It was not majestic or photogenic, it just seemed lonely among the rolls of fat it had to compete with to get attention. I pushed his stomach up and before I placed my lips on the tip I recoiled from the smell! My God, it was almost too much for a woman to bear! I held my breath and sucked softly, then harder as requested to get it out of its flaccid state. He was unbelievably disgusting. I unrolled a condom and mounted him. We have only been able to do it in one position and I am at a loss as to how to describe it. I propped myself up on my arms as I rode him with my legs stretched across his beast of a belly. It was quite a challenging feat but bankable.

This went on for some number of months before I fell in lust and Despicable decided to monopolize every minute of my day. Naturally, I had no choice but to seek employment in the real world. I worked as a model and actually got paid for it, with a few acting gigs here and there, not to mention mundane work in a variety of offices and I'm sure there are some other dead end jobs listed on my resume. I was even interviewed on a local radio station and scheduled to make an appearance in New York on a major radio show that was cancelled, thanks to an outrageous stint orchestrated by the two radio jocks who now air on satellite.

Once my relationship turned south and the abuse continued, I made a decision to get out. I had to make quick cash and I resumed my relationship with Un-Savory. But this time, he wanted bareback. The bastard knew I was desperate. He convinced me by saying he was incapable of getting anyone pregnant, which was true, but it was really a lousy excuse to compromise one's health for a few lousy hundred. What could I do? I was getting my ass beaten down every day, not always literally, and I was wearing thin. My self esteem took several major hits so I wasn't thinking straight. I am embarassed, my sweet Diary, and ashamed that I let this pig fake my skin to skin. And when he let it slip that he was fucking some 18 year old girl from his restaurant who obviously had the same self esteem issues, I was livid. How much was he paying her? He had accidentally mentioned that she was blackmailing him by saying she was pregnant and threatening to expose their relationship to mutual associates.

Let me tell you what I told her, he bragged, I told her that an old man fucking a young girl doesn't look so stupid as a young girl fucking an old man. When he realized what all he said, he calmly tried to back track and change his story with excuses so absurd it was implausible.
Especially with knowing the history of the girl in question, I couldn't imagine what diseases were festering on his dick.

Girl In Question (GIQ) was a loose cannon and and a nymphomaniac who worked as a cashier in his restaurant. She was a striking and statuesque blonde with big blue eyes and a body to die for, the type of body only an 18 year old could have. Taut, toned & free from the ravishes of childbirth and sun damage. Un-Savory had numerous pictures of her glued to various men's dicks. In one set she is facing the camera while riding some lanky boy with a big dick and in another set she is fucking one of Un-Savory's friends from upstate New York, the same friend he tried to coax me into doing. I refused as I don't fuck friends of clients and certainly not in the same house where both men can easily overpower you and conspire to bury your body in the woods or throw it over a guard rail and into a river.

It is another thing if it's my own time, there is nothing like having two cocks at once. But I shall refrain from disgressing and stick with the story at hand.

Lest I forget, for months Un-Savory had been desperately trying to arrange a meeting with the both of us. She had expressed interest in trying another woman, as she put it, and he thought we'd be a perfect fit. True to form I said no as I refused to serve as an outlet for his deviant imagination. I suspected that it was his idea and solely his idea and like me, GIQ was under the spell of this fat, smelly warlock who must have laced his food with the teat of Venus to manipulate us into fucking him without a safety net, to suck that foul, smelly worm of a penis and do his bidding without caution or question.

The final straw was Un-Savory forgetting to pay me my fee. He promised that he would have it the next time we were to meet. He also manipulated me, once again, by requesting my help on his new book. I was flattered that he wanted my input on one of his characters, a Middle Eastern seductress slash terrorist who is able to snare some high power guy on the Hill and milk him of our America's secrets.

When did you turn your first trick? was the first question out of Un-Savory's mouth. I was floored. How dare he? How dare he even speak to me like that, like some cheap and common street prostitute. He crossed the line with his derisive question and I performed my duty and left. He actually had the nerve to write me a check that bounced. I was shocked that a man living in a house such as his would do such a thing. I called and after much nagging he made an appointment so I could get paid for last time. Then, he tried to get another free one in. Unsavory indeed. I left with the excuse that I had forgotten to lock the doors on my car and I never looked back. It was the end of the debacle between Un-Savory and I.

The Masochist

Dear Diary, there is something I must tell you. I once shit in a guy's mouth for one hundred and twenty dollars. I cannot recall the exact dollar amount but I do recall it was insignificant compared to the acts I performed that day. The Marquis de Sade would be so proud! The grandmaster of debauchery would turn in his grave to pay tribute with an applause.

He was a man from of Eastern European origin who lives in a spectacularly pricey high rise in a posh suburb not far from my present location. A professional, as one would have to be to afford such splendid accommodations. He called me up during an uneventful afternoon, of meandering with housemates and drinking coffee as I sat and stared at the television. Would you like to make some money? he wants to know but not quite in those exact words. For you see, he did not want full service, he only wanted me to sit and shit right on his face and into his mouth and use and abuse it as a toilet.

Sure, why not? I am up for anything and it was easy money, even if it was half my fees and for half an hour as he had pressing arrangements immediately thereafter. Diary, those are the best clients, the one who must be somewhere and they are squeezing in fuck time because, simply, they leave. They leave so you can go about your business as they go about theirs and you can both pretend nothing happened, if you are so inclined to live in denial.

He was an ugly man. He looked like a dreadful beast from a Brothers Grimm tale. He was a literal descendent from a long line of trolls who live under a bridge and mauled and ate scores of children walking home from school. He had pock marks on his face and was short and squat and one hundred percent grotesque. He had mentioned he worked in an office and was in a rush to get to a meeting. Have you ever done this before? he asked and he is standing at the stove melting chocolate to line his mouth with so he can take in my shit better and make it sweeter or something.

But of course not I have not done this before, as explained over the telephone, and I am slightly nervous and I must keep my wits about me and pretend it was some handsome screen hunk whose lips would be pressed against the pucker of my anus.

We must convene in the bathroom. I follow him to the toilet and he brings the pan with him. He asks me to stick my finger in the ominous looking liquid and I dip it, twirl it, and smear it inside his mouth. It is such a humiliating feeling for me, to feel the intimate moistness of his tongue with my finger and I cringe and shudder and carry that feeling with me to the final execution of plan. He is lying prone on the floor and I squat with my ass facing him. Lucky for him that he has the sweetness of sugar coating his mouth because I had eaten spicy food earlier and he was going to get a mouthful of my peppery shit. I can feel his mouth and what a horrid feeling it is, to have this human toilet beneath me but he is so ugly and a troll and he is getting what he deserves. It's not so hard to release after all and out it goes, who knew I could carry such heaven in my bowels.

Once I am empty, I reposition myself by standing over him and I watch him as he sits up and spits it all in the toilet. A quick flush, and an apology. He usually swallows, he said to me, but not today. However, we are not finished. I want to ask if it is good but I am sidetracked by the box he retrieves from beneath the sink. He has yet to stand up and he slides his pants off after handing me the box. I open it and in it are some pins. What is this for? I inquired.

He wants me to stick it in his penis. He wants me to humiliate it by pushing the pins through his skin. I shudder at the thought but he didn't want full service and I suppose it was not too much to ask. I do as he bids and stick the tiny pins through the delicate skin. I am not sure what it does for him, I do not recall him ejaulating. But the look on his face is one of pure ecstasy, as a man of God may look when indulging in self flagellation. We wrap up, what's the point, I do not know, but I am paid and a few dollars richer and we both leave with our souls seemingly intact although I do suspect that we've engaged in some flagrant violation of the flesh.

Genesis

Dear Diary, I want to confess all to you and I shall begin here. I want to tell you how a young, sweet girl such as I fell into this sordid line of work.

My heart has been broken many a times. I have always been a creature of a highly sexual nature, I began to indulge in my dark desires at a young, tender age and went down the path of least resistance, a path that no girl my age had any busy walking down. But I needed love, so much, my parents could not provide it for me so I found myself at the mercy of all the boys and the attention they lavished on me made up for all the ills in my limited child's world. I decided to spread my legs for the eldest of the group of lust scavengers, a boy who drove a muscle car and played rock music so loud he could kill the living and wake the dead. He was much older and we did it at my friend's house and he popped my cherry and it hurt because his dick was so big, and now that I've seen so much dick, I can attest to the fact that its size was indeed it was larger than average and wide in girth and beautifully shaped, an exquisite piece of work, if there ever was an art gallery for penises his would make the cut. I pulled my shorts aside for him to enter me. The pit of my stomach was filled with apprehension and toe curling anticipation. The ache was so sweet and delicious, the fever for cock from that moment on was branded in my loins and so a new girl was born.

I rushed home to wash my shorts. My parents instilled the fear of God in me and for them to find such a wretched red spot right on white shorts signified much ado about something. They never caught on and that led me become bolder in my quest for cock. I needed it so bad and word soon spread around in our tiny community that I was the slut to get your rocks off with and so I would sneak out at night, very late at night, and meet a boy, here and there, and have sex with him.

The anticipation was almost as exciting as the sex. I was never physically satisfied, it was more of an emotional fulfillment but I loved to climb the gate that separated the upper middle class from the riff raff and help these guys bust a nut, usually on my chest or ass or face. I had regular meetings with a boy who was sixteen, attractive and olive skinned, and I will never forget the first time we did it. We were in a gigantic shed filled with a panoply of tools for working class men, and he fucked me really good and told me to "hold on." Moments later a taller, thicker figure made its entrance and I gasped and pulled my top close to my chest. He introduced himself as "the older brother" and dropped his pants. Not quite as attractive but he would have to do. He did me too and left me and I cleaned up as best as I could and walked home, climbed the gate, and slipped into bed after hiding my clothes.

Another time the olive skinned boy fucked me up the ass and then fucked me in the pussy while I was on my period and made me suck it. I will never forget the taste and I don't recall it being as unpleasant as the image it conjures in one's mind. I only remember the taste of my metal and iron on my tongue. Thereafter, olive skinned boy fucked me up the ass all the time and without the use of lube. I had never even heard of lube so I could not demand it. Maybe he used his own spit, that I am sure he did, he must have crudely spit on his hand or let it drip from his mouth onto my anus and then slipped his huge cock in. It would be a pattern since the first one - the penchant for huge cocks - and I never ceased to attract them. My pussy was a magnet for it, it beckoned all the riff raff with huge shlongs to covet my hotbox.

One day olive skinned boy decided that he wanted to have me with his best friend, a blonde boy with pock marked skin and a surly smile. They took me to some abandoned place and as I got on my hands and knees and sucked one, the other fucked me from behind doggy style. I had two dicks in me and I loved it. We switched into a variety of positions where I sloppily sucked their greedy cocks and let them come on me and finger my pussy and I have no doubt they left happy and satisifed.

My longing for more loving left me vulnerable to the vultures. Soon, every guy in school wanted a piece of me and every girl wanted to be like me. My best friend began to employ the use of brazen coloured makeup to her eyes, lips and cheeks in the hopes that she could get as much attention and dick as me. But she wasn't born with a wanton slut face as I was blessed and cursed with nor did she have it in her soul to carry out such debauchery. She was lucky in that regard, I, on the other hand, would forever be ruled by the seedier inclinations of Venus.

My Funny Valentine

Dear Diary, I am so glad that I found you. What joy I shall have composing my thoughts and revealing my innermost secrets to be scrutinized and revered and reviled under the harshest of lights. But at this juncture in my sordid life, it is a far, far better thing to do it here than in that tiny box of a confession booth. I tried to go to church but the men look at me like rabid wolves thirsty for blood and hungry for fresh, my sweet flesh, and their wives are seething below that saintly veneer. To be wanted and and hated all at once, it is an unbearable burden to be the object of many a man's desire. To be used and crumpled by many a man's lust strikes a bitter chord in my heart and loins. They must pay, all of them, pay for their desire and they shall, oh, dear God, they shall pay with their beautifully lined pockets of gold.