P03E17

It was on the third day that things started to get long-winded, maybe even boring. My cock had become completely used to the constant fucking. It still provided hornification to my body, but the challenge to my mind was dwindling to zero. Howard had gone to work, Marcy was still banished to the motel room, and me and Heather were alone in the house. Heather usually passed out about three hours into the daily fuck, after that she could only moan and shudder and cum. It basically left me alone, doing the solitary job of thrusting into her. The thrill of it subsided, and it became toiling labor.

I was tired of watching her tits when she lay on her back, or her ass when I flipped her over. She wasn’t really a pretty girl, the tits were saggy and shapeless, and her ass was a bleak-ish plump heap of flesh without much structure or shape. I got tired of watching them bounce around beneath me. I took my phone and tried texting, but it wasn’t really possible in the fucking motion. Watching a movie worked, but I still couldn’t really get into the story. I unloaded into her twice, but it was more motivated by boredom than arousal, and both shots were rather shallow and without much volume or sensation. Time slowed down, the hours just creeping by until Howard came home.

“I’m bored, Howard! ,“ I complained. “And I am tired and hungry, and I just want to stop! “

“Yes, I understand. Let me take over from you for a bit.”

He took my place between her legs. He had to jerk his dick to stiffness before he could penetrate her. The pitch of her moaning changed a bit. Maybe she was vaguely aware that it was a different dick poking into her now, or maybe it was just a coincidence.

I really couldn’t watch her anymore. I went back to the kitchen counter, made myself a sandwich and sagged out on a couch. It took me a while for the pumping of my heart to slow down and my panting to subside. There was a melancholy feeling that I couldn’t put my finger on. I had thought that I had landed in paradise, having all the sex that a testosterone laden adolescent boy could dream of. I was disappointed that it had taken less than a week to grow weary of it. The act of fucking had turned into a rather tedious job. Could the dream of paradise really be destroyed so easily, when you actually got there?

I could still hear Heather‘s moaning through the open door, as Howard mirthlessly continued my job on her. An orgasm was clearly recognizable. It disgusted me, SHE disgusted me. I hardly even knew her. She was just another bitch in heat, taking a shitload of orgasms, like a punching bag of flesh. I certainly realized that it was even harder for her than for me, she got even fewer breaks, and I’m sure she still felt the daily whippings throughout the day; but I really didn’t care. There wasn’t even the dominant feeling, that it was in my power to subject her to all of this.

I thought of Emily. Even now, the fantasy of fucking her hadn’t lost its power.