doggy

Her name is Blaspheme. And she loved to fuck. There’ve been wild stories floating around the club that I haunt on weekends. Even on the restroom wall, the words Blaspheme loves cock are scrawled. So who is Blaspheme, I asked the bartender one night and he simply shrugged. He’d heard of her name, but never seen her.

“I can take you to her,” a younger woman said. She couldn’t possibly be more than nineteen.

First thing I noticed about my guide was her tits. They were magnificent. The most supple pair you ever seen.

“Any chance I go home with you instead?” I asked. “You know for a quick one?”

“If you want to meet Blaspheme,” she said, “it’d better be quick.”

I didn’t have enough high school sex, I tell you. I see these barely legal vixens cruising the streets in miniskirts and thongs and I begin to wonder where this sort of pussy was when I was eighteen. I used to fantasize about girls with cunts like the ones strolling around at the mall, spending way too much time in my room stroking off. The imagines in my head would get so extreme that I even contemplated taking up public masturbation in the high school restroom all those years ago.

Thankfully, I’m not old enough to be their fathers, but I am old enough to be their senior year English teacher. And I don’t know what nature is putting in the eighteen-year-olds of this generation, but God knows what I’d like to put into their bodies.