GIRL 15
PSYCHO GIRL
All my efforts to find a brunette proved fruitless. I'd set up a search criteria on the famous internet dating site, which would boil down to, "send me a fucking
brunette!"" None of them liked me. There were no responses at all.
And then something happened. A brunette, a gorgeous one, winked at me.
It took all of two minutes on the phone, subjected to her intensity, to
realize she was a complete psycho. She'd been divorced for some 18
years, but was still madly obsessed with her husband. She lived in a
house that was paid off, and didn't have to pay a cent toward a
mortgage. She had a one year old SUV, fully paid for, courtesy of her
ex. She was paid a six figure sum for child support every year, with
never a collection issue, all thanks to the decency of her ex. But that
wasn't enough for her. She was so furious at having ""lost" her divorce
(she apparently defined "winning" as having his decapitated head on a
stick on her front lawn) that she sued her divorce attorney for
malpractice and created yet another legal juggernaut battle. It was all
too familiar, as this was pretty much what my first wife did.
So on our first date, after dinner and dessert, I pulled my cock out of
her rectum and came in a rush all over her grateful face, her tongue
and lips slurping up the sticky goo of my climax, and when she had
swallowed it all and lay satisfied, nestled in the crook of my arm, I
asked her exactly what it was she had to be so bitter about.
It took three hours to drag the ten words of the fundamental
information out of her: He found a younger woman, fucked her and
married her.
I've never understood why the female of the species so resents that other females roam the earth.
So she got rejected by one man. Big deal! Hell, in the last year, I
thought, I was into the high triple digits in the rejection arena. Deal
with it! Grow up! Get a thicker fucking skin!
For every sixty seconds I spent fucking her, I spent an hour giving her psychotherapy.
But it was no good. Psycho Girl insisted that her world was completely raped by her sinister ex-husband.
The great thing about cell phones is that you can change the ring tone.
I programmed her ring tone to be silent and forgot about her.
At least I tried to. A few days later, she was on my mind. I called her
out of curiosity. She had signed onto Adult Friend Finder dot com and
was having purely sexual relationships. She could skip all the "how is
it that you're single" questions from her dates and proceed directly to
the anal sex and facial cum shots she loved so much. I wished her well
and hung up the phone. I remember it was about 7 in the evening, and I
was in the warehouse office of the petrochemical company I was building
a project for, in the coffee break room. I stared into space for a
moment, trying to make sense of the world, and when I looked at my
watch again it was half past 8.
I got in my truck and started the long drive home in the rain. I heard
the crinkle of foil as the supreme being, once again, and as usual,
without permission, took my gum, shoving three pieces into his mouth.
"What?" he said. "I like Trident."
"I suppose you inspired their gum chemists in their sleep too, right?
So the gum is really your creation? Like the Jack Daniels?"
He smiled. "Sometimes people come up with great things on their own," he said.
I shook my head. "What the hell was that about?"
In the rear view mirror, I could see my traitorous penis, Tyrannosaurus
Rex, sitting in the passenger seat. He looked glum and haunted. I think
Psycho Girl scared him. A sexual dinosaur, frightened by a woman. Go
figure.
The supreme being shrugged. "She didn't listen."
"So all those hours I poured advice and counsel into her, that was all wasted?"
We drove for five minutes before he answered. "Sometimes it takes a
while for the words to reach their target. I have something else
planned for her. When she experiences it, your words will echo in her
mind, and she'll move to the next level."
"My words. You mean your words."
The supreme being glanced at his Rolex. "I gotta run. Listen, next time
you're surfing on Match, I wantyou to look outside your usual search
criteria. Your usual blonde or brunette thing? Something different this
time."
"What, you mean a redhead? Copper auburn."
His eyes drilled into me. "No. I mean non-American. Non-white."
I dropped my jaw. "Oh. Okay. I didn't realize I liked non-white non-Americans."
He smiled a devilish grin. Quite a trick for the supreme being. "Once you try black"
"You never go back," I finished for him.
"Oh, by the way?"
"Yes," I said.
"Forget we talked about this," he said.
"About what?" I said, wondering why my mind had wandered for the whole conversation.
"Nothing," he said.
"No, tell me," I insisted, but he was gone. I looked at Rex in the rear-view. "What did he say?"
"You expect me to keep up with all this metaphysical shit? Listen, I'm
responsible for the sexual happiness of the female, that's all. I fuck
the pussy. The mouth. The ass. I press against the girl during the
first kiss. Thrills'R'Us. That's all. Everything else is your job.
Which, frankly, is why this girlfriend search is going so poorly. Why,
oh why, didn't the supreme being assign me to the pro football player?
I could be getting some major tail right now. Instead, I end up giving
the big head therapy." He sighed.
"Wait a minute, you're responsible for the sexual happiness of me," I complained.
"If it were up to me, my man, we'd be knee deep in female right now.
You're the enemy of intimacy. I pull us toward the feminine soul. You
drag us away."
"Really?"
"Duh," he said, his sarcasm dripping out of him.
"Oh, fuck you," I said.
"I wish I could get fucked," he said, still caustic.
And then he was gone. Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the shower,
toweled off, and started up Match dot com. I put in a new search
criteria. Slender. Tall. Educated. Under languages I clicked "any."
Under race, I bit my lip, then selected "any."
I pressed the SEARCH button.
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