Greater Expectations (12 page)

Am I ever going to stop?

How much fluid do I have?

It was after 5am when she left, still nameless. I caught myself from asking for her number. Ignorance was the only sensitivity I had left to offer. What use would she have for a phone? I wasn’t merely dry by the time she had finished using me, my last
two orgasms were simply smoke.

I was on my way out the following afternoon when I bumped into my next door neighbour. Instead of the usual nod and “hello”, he actually stopped me and asked “Hey Z, is everything okay with you?” What made it worse was that he seemed annoyed. I really didn’t want to engage with him, especially over my situation with Gemma, so I brushed it off with the customary “Yeah, everything is fine. Thanks.” and I continued walking to my car.

“You sure?” he persisted.

“Yeah, why?” Time for a little defence. I really have no time for this.

He threw his thumb in the general direction of my house and said, “It sounded like you were murdering someone in there last night. You
sure
everything is okay?” As far as I could tell, he was genuinely concerned. He must be serious as he waited for an explanation, and this was not the weather for idle chitchat.

I had to laugh. Sometimes I am so bloody thoughtless. Okay, make that most of the time. Being a man ensures that there is no further explanation required for this condition. Last night I had been so wrapped up in what was happening to me that I had never considered her nor
, it would seem, my neighbours.

This is merely another accepted sympto
m in the burden of being a man.

However it came as a monumental surprise, with a delightful twist of irony, to discover that she was a screamer. Not the “When Harry Met Sally” sort of
screamer. No, not in that way.

Rather she screamed like Chewbacca.

Only louder.

As Oscar Wilde once said, “I can resist anything except temptation”, and her screaming had presented way too much of an opportunity for me not to have fun with. She was going to be screaming anyway, so why not? I have long since accepted that I am destined for hell and I am okay with that knowing that’s where my friends will be. So knowing she was deaf only appealed to my own sense of mischief. When it had been
my
turn to take
her
doggy style, she was screaming away in blissful ignorance as I was shouting
“YEEHAA, TAKE IT ALL BITCH!”
mixing it up with a few
“RIDE ‘EM COWBOY!”
along with a number of other choice phrases, just for good measure.

I had actua
lly sang
“The Deadwood Stage”
–the song from the movie
“Calamity Jane”
–and synchronised my rhythm, nearly falling completely off the bed when it got to the
“Whip crack-away”
part!

It wasn’t just sex then. It had become an exercise in venting every last ounce of frustration that I had stored deep within me, within the relative safety and comfort of my own home. All on my own terms. There was no real insult intended towards my playmate, who was completely unaware of my cathartic antics, as was every other woman in the world. Every single other woman that I had also been fucking at that particular moment. Fucking them all. Every single one of womankind who had, collectively, fucked me over.

It was wonderfully liberating.

Or, at least, it had been. Now I know that we had woken my neighbour. His mannerisms suggested that I was supposed to be feeling guilty and embarrassed about it but, in reality, I was actually quite pleased with myself. It made me feel more of a stud than the actual fact of the matter for, in truth, I had been the student and she the master.

Anyway, whatever. Fuck him.

Penny is going to love this. I hope so anyway. If not, fuck her too. I am newly single and answerable to nobody anymore. Only myself. I know that this pain, hurt, anguish, and heartache will pass but not soon enough. I yearn to be reconciled with the beautiful, wonderful, enigmatic members of womankind, although I would never admit it.

Least of all to myself.

Yet here I am feeling dirty all over again and all because of this prick. I told him I was fine and that he shouldn’t concern himself. I also foolishly apologised and escaped into my car. Yet there was a time, not so long ago, when this guy, or someone just like him, would have been congratulating me on my performance and angling for the details. Was she a looker? What kind of figure did she have? What size were her tits? Normal men conversation.

It was what guys did.

Not this guy. He looked at me with disgust, like I was a slut. That fucker, my neighbour, that prick right there just fucking judged me.

This is ridiculous.

Why is it that it is me who is feeling dirty from these one night stands? When did the rules change and these feelings come into play? I am the man, I should be the one who feels gratified and satisfied. I am the abuser, not the abused. The predator, not the prey. Maybe it is time for me to take control of my own fate for a change. My abuser certainly taught me one thing, I am far more sexually naïve than I thought and not so much with the worldly wise.

I can also see that there has been some sort of sexual revolution that nobody told me about.

I guess there is no other option but to join Supasexxx.com if only for personal research. It would be instrumental in educating me to understand what women now want and expect sexually. This would allow me to broaden my own horizons by expanding upon my own, painfully basic, knowledge. Even a fool such as me can see that the days of women accepting whatever men have to offer, sexually or otherwise, are over. It is this beautiful and wonderful modern woman, nameless and faceless, fragile yet powerful, who is forcing me to join this sex site in order to ensure that I am never again sexually embarrassed.

Ever
.

This new modern woman als
o seems to be a bit of a bitch.

17

PussyQuack69

Sunday 22nd February

I was experiencing some unforeseen difficulties in my efforts at logging into the Supasexxx.com website. It was just after 9pm and it had been over two hours since I had enjoyed my Chinese takeaway and sat down at my computer. I had followed every link and lead in my mindless
endeavours of surfing the net–not normal behaviour for me–and yet I still could not find it within myself to actually type in “Supasexxx.com” into the address bar.

I have absolutely no idea why.

I sat back and gazed aimlessly at the screen in a futile attempt at evaluating of my own dilemma. Living alone rules out any reason to fear being caught by a flatmate, or anyone else for that matter. In any event, the door was locked. Just in case. Yet whenever I attempted the simple task of typing in the site name, my head suddenly swivels to every corner of the room as I irrationally scan around to see if anyone is watching me.

The curtains are not only closed but overlapping to ensure and protect my privacy.

Where was my earlier bravado? My cavalier
“fuck ‘em all”
attitude? It seems to have deserted me and departed on
“The Deadwood Stage”
. I am sat here trawling through articles that are of absolutely no interest to me, all the while pretending to myself that they are. Why do I care about what fucking celebrity is dating who or, worse still, what they are fucking wearing? I mean, who cares about this shit? Do people not have lives of their own? It takes me all my time to actually care about what I want to wear, me being the man with the “Super Z” T-shirt for fuck’s sake, far less worry about anyone else.

Yet this is now seemingly
important stuff for me to know.

In the midst of my personal crisis, the phone started to ring and I shat. Panic gripped me and I instinctively slammed the laptop lid closed with an irrational fear of being caught. Like the caller can magically see through my unanswered phone and know what I’m doing. Once again, my own behaviour and reactions baffle me. It never used to be like this. My nerves are frazzled and yet there is no doubting the sense of relief that I feel for having this new focus, e
ven if it is just for a moment.

Bizarrely, I take another look around the room to confirm th
at I am alone before answering.

This rude interruption is not what I need right now. Feigned anger overwhelms me but I managed to compromise with myself that I shall immediately log in to Supasexxx.com once this call is over. I am almost convinced of my own sincerity. In my confusion and, again completely out of character, I eventually answer without looking at the caller ID. I am more interested in scrutinizing my now closed laptop, ens
uring that it cannot betray me.

Some things simply must remain private.

“Hello?” I attempted to speak in as confident a manner as could be mustered, although it is immediately apparent that my throat is dry. I quickly swallow and replace the initial hoarse croak with an altogether more acceptable “Hello?”, one that actually sounds like me.

“Hey, what’s new?” replied Penny
in her usual airy tone.

I really have no idea what came over me. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the burden from carrying the monumental weight of the cloak of shame that apparently came as a free gift with my curiosity in Supasexxx.com. Most likely, it was a combination of them all. Whatever it was, her simple enquiry resonated deep within me, obligating me to tell her everything.

“
What’s new? Well if you really must know...”

I held nothing back. It wasn’t a tirade but more a statement of the facts. I told her every single intimate detail about my one night stand and my resultant attitude thereafter. Maybe I do need some counselling as I just cannot keep anything private from this person and I have no clue why.

“…so there was me, standing in front of my judgmental prick of a neighbour who is waiting for me to explain myself, and all I am thinking is ‘fuck him’. Then, inexplicably, my thoughts turned to you and how much you would like hearing about my conquest. Although it wasn’t really my conquest as much as I was hers. The knowledge that you would realise this made me think ‘fuck you’ too and, for that, I am really sorry Penny.”

Why can’t I just stop talking? It used to be so easy. This is a new and deeply disturbing development for me.

Why ever would you be sorry? You never actually said it to me so there is no offence given and so none taken, but I completely understand why you thought there is. It is the fear of me, your friend, judging you. I have those self same thoughts when I think my friends are judging me too. It’s only natural Z.” Her understanding gave me the confidence to continue.

In for a Penny and all that.

“Well, speaking of ‘natural’…” I then went on to tell her of my chat with Taylor and his insightful suggestion of Supasexxx.com. Its easier to tell her by deflecting all my shame towards Mike, and should she be as disgusted as I am with myself, then he can be easily blamed. “You see, he doesn’t think I am ready for a committed relationship but more that I am ready for a purely sexual one. After my latest experience, I tend to agree with him. That is the sole purpose of sites like these. Statistics show…” I was about to tell her that the revenues that these sites generate are, in some cases, as high as that of the more mainstream dating sites. This would suggest that there are likeminded people, such as myself, out there.

However, Penny interrupted me.

“Did you see that Supasexxx.com has had 881 new members today alone? That is mightily impressive. I was expecting the girls to be all old, fat, and ugly but that is certainly not the case from what I can see here. Especially from the 1873 members currently online.”

Not for the fi
rst time, Penny had shocked me.

“You are actually looking on the site now?”

“Of course, how else would I know what I just told you. Oops, my mistake, 884 new members now although I am not one of them. Not yet anyway.” Said with such an air of mischievousness that it was all but impossible to tell if she was joking. I quickly realised that nothing would surprise me about her.

It was also a wonderfully liberating realisation.

Yet I suddenly found myself feeling very protective of her. There was another feeling too, something different but familiar, but what exactly?
Was I jealous?
Surely not. I quickly flipped up my laptop lid and seemed to wait for an eternity for the screen to kick into life.

Without any further hesitation, I logged straight into the site.

“Okay, I’m on it too.” My initial reaction was one that surprised me. “It really is quite professional, more so than I thought it would be.” The site had its “Supasexxx.com” banner logo displayed in the top centre of the page. At either side, equally sized, were the logo banners for “AnalSupasexxx.com” and “OralSupasexxx.com” with unnecessary pictures of models in the respective poses for such endeavours.

Surely the words were descriptive enough?

“What did you expect? It is a professional business and, judging by the number of members I see here, quite a profitable one. Although I would guess that there is a parent company and so membership of one would ensure basic membership of all. A sex sites pyramid as it were. I have no doubt some of the members on here would not be averse to fulfilling that particular sexual fantasy.” I could hear her clicking away in the background so knew she was still exploring her way around the site. She had been talking to me but it was obvious her concentration was elsewhere.

“I suspect you are right. Although, given my size, I would be more for the bottom of any such pyramid than the top.” I scrolled down the front page and saw the
“Members Online”
section with pictures of women and men in various stages of undress. Predictably, the male members seemed to favour displaying their alternative “heads”. Without thinking, I verbalised my thought. “Surely some of these pictures have been doctored.”

They must have been for some of these guys were just
huge
.

“Hmmm, hard to say really.” The pun was lost on her. “Although they are
very
off putting for a girl. I mean, a penis is not an attractive appendage. Not forgetting the testicles that are housed within the ‘hairy brain’. No, the whole area is, aesthetically, quite repulsive. Most girls will tell you that if you were to ask them.

Yet one is somewhat helpless to one’s rudimentary urges and desires towards the opposite sex, however illogical they may seem. There is no doubt as to the pleasure and satisf
action that the penis provides.

In any event, men seem to be completely obsessed with the idea that their size, in itself, is what makes them sexy. Of course size does matter, but certainly not to the extent that men believe and it’s definitely not what makes them sexy. It’s all about a man’s confidence, his presence, his gait and his attitude. These components are far sexier to us ladies than the size of his penis.

Ironically, the penis is quite a small consideration in the grand scheme of things. Don’t get me wrong, size
does
matter, but it works both ways. A man can be too big. Mind you, looking at some of these girls, it would seem that you could drive a bus through them.”

She was perfectly serious and it was obvious she was completely immersed in the site. She had no idea how much funnier this had made her sound and I had a chuckle to myself.

It was also quite comforting to hear her thoughts on size although there is absolutely no reason why it should matter to me at all.

Not. At. All.

My mind drifted to thinking how many millionaires had been fortunate enough to share her bed, and her body. As she was single now, it was obvious that they must all have been pompous assholes.

She continued speaking and broke my train of thought.

“Also, men do not realise that, to a woman, a penis is most like a car. Look at the percentage of a man’s wage that he will waste on a car. Yet this is a purchase that they cannot fully enjoy it for fear of wasting its future value. Did you know that the average car is only used for between 3-5% of any given week? Therefore, logically, it is this same percentage amount that the average man should spend on buying and running a car. Yet statistics show that the actual figure well exceeds 10%.

It is much that same with his penis. You do know what
‘Dr Phil’
says don’t you? If you have a great sex life, it takes up about 5% of your time. If your sex life is unsatisfactory, it takes up 95% of your time, and that is because it becomes a preoccupation and so you cannot stop thinking about it.”

It was a very disturbing comparison. Wors
e still, it made perfect sense.

I rapidly drew my attention back onto the site and saw the section showing pictures of the
“New Members”
and, further down at the bottom, a final
“Hottest Members”
section. The amount of faces looking back at me was astounding. I noticed that in the corner of some of the photographs were numbers with a camera symbol. Obviously, this denoted the amount of pictures uploaded onto their profile. I clicked onto one in the hope of seeing these hidden gems. I was redirected to the
“My Profile”
page where I was informed that I could see nothing further until I had registered.

“Have you joined yet?” Penny asked.

“How odd that you ask, I have just been redirected to a page that prompted that very question. No, not yet. You?” Surely not.

“Just completing a basic profile now. This is most fascinating Z, and fun. Thank you.” Her keystrokes were audible in the background.

“No problem. You aren’t worried that you could be found out by the media? This would be manna from heaven for them.” I was genuinely concerned for her now. This is the moment the joke could go too far and I didn’t want to risk our friendship, fragile as it was. I could manage the embarrassment by simply relocating and already had plans afoot to shift some of it onto Taylor. However, Penny’s would be a scandal of totally different and devastating proportions.

All for what, a curiosity that was mine?

“Z, please, give me some credit. My profile is as basic as it needs to be for full and free access. So, none of my credit card details are provided and I can enjoy complete anonymity as anyone that works here has access to the computer. I have spent my whole life ensuring that I can cover my tracks when needs be.” She had gently chided me. “Although thank you for your concern.”

“So what else are you thanking me for then?” She surely was very puzzling to me.

“I had never known that sites like this existed and, now that I do, I can observe human behaviour at its most basic and natural level. It’s like “people watching”, but online. Nothing is more basic and natural than sex. Sex is something that we yearn for, an intimacy that we all need. That feeling of being desired just for our bodies rather than the whole rubbish that comes with a relationship. Yet this is more than just a sex site. Every single person on her has an agenda and it is intriguing to me and so I want to look into and explore that.” So much for her fleeting interest.