Perversion

“If the stray dog stays, leash it. If the stray dog wanders, kill it.”

• Old Mexican Proverb

I.-

She didn’t tell me how old was she, and if she told me, she told me in Japanese, which I don’t understand, so it would have been exactly as if she didn’t tell me.

I had never been in Japan before. Never had an interest in doing so. I’m not the kind of person that likes to travel. All places are the same place if you ask me. But every year I spent a week somewhere else with Mervyn, the only person I’d be obliged to call “a friend”. Every year he picked the place and every year I was surprised by his choice. Last year, I had turkish twins, thick eyebrows but bald cunts, licking my balls and rimming my ass at the same time. Couple of years ago we were taking turns to skullfuck the senses out of a french little thing, down to the point of vomit and tears. How did he managed to know about these places, these people, it was something I neither knew nor wanted to know. I guess it was some kind of talent. Some people are good at sports, or math, or wit. Some people are good about finding ways to indulge in their own sleaziness.

This year it was Japan. Before me she was, pale skin and raven dark hair in a bob cut. Purdy thin mouth and a flat nose. Her name was Sayako, I think. She was cute. I have never been too much afflicted with yellow fever, but I must recognize she was delightfully adorable. The kind of girl every man dreams of ruining. Mervyn had told me this kind of thing was not outspoken in society, but it was fairly well known. Enjo kôsai. Compensated dating. Joshi kôsai. High school girls accepting gifts or money just to hang out with middle aged men or perverted tourists. Like me and Mervyn. Even actresses and singers were meat available in this market. They would walk with you through the city, hear your inane thoughts, have some dinner and then let you do whatever you felt you had to do with their juvenile bodies in some love hotel.

I knew what I wanted to do with hers. I’ve always known. I wanted her to lay down on the big bed on that “Hello Kitty” themed pink room and to lift up her little skirt to reveal her luscious trunk. I wanted to lose myself on that small, round, young ass. She had the exact divine proportion of fat down there. The size of a ripe cantaloupe. Probably, the sweetness too. I wanted to go down on my knees and push my nose inside her tight anus. I wanted to smell her filth and shame. I used to do this with my wife, when she was still not my wife, but nowadays I don’t. In part, because I don’t know whose cock has been there. In part, because there’s no shame on her anymore. It’s the smell of shame in the air that gets me going. I didn’t even take off her panties yet. I’m a patient man. I teach literature. I know that pacing is the golden secret to a satisfactory release. I grabbed her cheeks and parted them, holes still covered by that white plain cloth traced by subtle spots of wetness, and pushed my nose hard inside her. The almost ethereal scent of teenage dampness. She was trembling, softly, and whimpering like they only whimper in Japan. I grabbed her by the legs and lifted her and put a cushion in the shape of Hello Kitty’s face down her flat baby belly to make her ass more accessible. I had studied the ergonomics of anal sex for years, so I kind of consider myself a connoisseur of the field.

Slowly, I took her panties down to her feet, still covered by white socks and dark shoes, and admired the openings of her inner sanctuaries. I didn’t believe any of those holes were intact, she had probably been ravaged before, but they looked narrow, virgin enough to fantasize. Her wrinkled stinkhole was firmly clenched, so much could barely fit the pinky in there without lube. Of course, I always carry lube with me in my travels with Mervyn. I put some drops of the oily substance on the tip of my fingers and proceeded to circle them, gently, on her entrance. She was gasping, moaning. Pretending she had never been fingered in the backdoor before. Pretending pure innocence. It took some time of massaging until my fingers slid into her, her hole widening to let me in, tightening around the phalange. I could feel the pressure of her nerves and muscles. Her tries to keep me out of herself.  The excitement and the embarrassment of being finger fucked in the ass by a guy that doubled her age. You don’t need to know Japanese to understand that. It’s a universal language.

I managed to shove one of my fingers completely inside her and so, I introduced a second one. She grabbed my hand, trying to stop me. With my second finger inside her, her moans amped up and her gasps turned into foreign words of begging. There’s something I really love to do in a girl’s anus. A spectacle I can’t restrain myself to produce and observe. I shove two fingers inside them, these girls, and then I try to separate my fingers as much as I can, see how much can I fight against these girl’s anal reflexes. She had strength in her muscles. My fingers unable to split inside her.

It's the smell and sounds of sex where I find the greater joys. A girl can close her eyes, pretend the world is blind, but there’s nothing to do against the obscene symphonies and scents of bodies. She blushed when a soft, deaf fart, smelling of sour milk, escaped from her guts and at that moment I knew she was ready for something bigger, more vicious than fingers. At it may seem obvious by now, I’m against enemas. They make the experience too clean, too aseptic. They make sex seem plastic. I pulled my finger from inside her, stained of brown and foul fragrance. Filth juices dripping out of her. I put my fingers on her mouth, touching her soft lips, teasing her wet tongue. Forcing her to relish on the manure that came from her guts. She was gagging, her throat trying to contain the contents of her stomach. I thrust the two fingers that have been inside her and an extra one deep down her mouth and violated that wethole with my hand like a frenzied animal. Her retching noises and her dense saliva running down my fingers and soaking the bed were the most effective of aphrodisiacs. I wanted to feel her uvula and the inner walls of her throat on the tip of my shitstained fingers. I wanted her to puke on that bed and then push her pretty face and pretty hair down into that vile slime.

With my fingers clean and my cock hard I was ready to pound the shit out of her childish crapper. Not like my cock is a behemoth monstrosity, by any means, but it sure is fatter than two of my fingers, with the veins marked all along the pole and a pulsating purple head ready to drill orifices in the search of gold. She seemed new in this business, still adjusting to the harsh beats of the enterprise. Her holes still accommodating. I kissed her aperture with the tip of my cock and grabbed her hair firmly, like bridles, ready to push myself into her, little by little, inch by inch. My balls tingling with pleasure and anticipation. My cock widening her while she squirmed and danced with discomfort. Every spasm and twitch of her muscles feeling like a gift of heaven for my shaft. I fucked her slowly, pushing meat deep down her guts, feeding her rectum with pricking pain to the point of repletion. I didn’t know much about this girl, Sayako. She was probably a good girl, she seemed liked one. She seemed polite and well-mannered. I bet she was a good student, a nice daughter. Right now she was a crying doll, filled with cockmeat up her shitter. I don’t know why she was doing this. Money, maybe. Anyway, I sure was glad she was doing it. Right now she was crying, sobbing, sinking her pretty face in the sheets, biting a pillow to muffle her cries. She probably thought I was a monster. She would feel the stinging pain on her opened third eye for some days. The same days she wouldn’t be able to walk straight. The same days she would have to be extra careful not to soil herself. At least she didn’t bleed. That’s good. I’m not such a monster. That’s another reason I like to go slow.

I must recognize that I must go slow in order to last a little bit longer and not cream these little things immediately. I must force myself to edge and control every push. It’s hypnotic to see my cock in and out their holes, glistening with moist and grease and a slight layer of teenager shit. I love the sight, my flesh rod being swallow and caressed by their stretched meat rings, and I love the feel or their cavities slowly closing and their soft whispers of relief when I’m pulling it out of their guts. I always leave them with a second of carnal peace, time enough for the punished hole to shut and to glimpse fake glimmers of hope, and then I resume the cycle of impalement. In and out. Slowly. Balls down. Hand on her hair, pushing or pulling, whatever feels more humiliating. Until my balls can’t take any longer and I have to explode in a storm of white goo.

Most times I just go and give myself some final moments of crazy violation. The pleasures of ravishing the tender youthness. Most times I just give them a warm, thick creampie on the stinky one and then force them to lick their filth out of my rod with my snot still dripping from their wrinkly, bad breathed eye. But she was gorgeous, she was pretty. I could not forgive myself if I left Japan without defiling that face. I wanted to have her on her knees on those final moments of climax and see her eyes while she fought to slurp out every single drop of baby butter off my system. I needed to put my hose down her throat and fill her stomach with the juices of a man old enough to be her father’s friend. Her own father, even. I wanted her to feel full of filth.

At this point, I had no time for patience anymore. I grabbed her head with my two hands and used her pretty face as a fleshlight. She was gagging, fighting to make me go slower, fighting to push me away, but she was a skinny little thing with little to no possibilities of rebellion against the attack. She was kind of adorable, in a sad, cruel way. Her gags and muffled cries were like the sounds of a choir of angels, chanting. I truly love the sound of a hard cock in a wet mouth. That hollow squelching sound of a cock getting in and out the firm grip of those lips, over and over again. The sound of that teen trying to slurp the drool that falls from her stupid, cocksucking mouth. The retching sounds of her throat and stomach, trying not to mess things more than they already were. She probably didn’t even notice the acri d taste all over my cock. She probably didn’t even think about where that cock was seconds before.

I exploded inside her mouth. She wanted to escape, but I clawed myself in that head, yanking her hair so hard I could have almost taken away her scalp in my impetus. I thrusted her throat down on me, until her nose was sniffing my pubes and her chin was rubbing my hanging balls. Every one of my screams was a shot straight to her stomach. Warm, thick and slimy running down her throat. She was choking, poor thing, and there I was, forcing her to feed on man’s most bitter juices. She coughed and kind of puked a clear mix of saliva, bile and semen. I released her when I felt that covering my cock and my balls. She kept coughing, embarrassed, possibly excusing herself, on her knees, not daring to look at me. Bowing as a sign of repentance. I should have cleaned my cock on that beautiful, tearful, red face that was still trying to grasp breath. But I was out of stamina and testosterone. I took a shower with her, I feasted on her hairy cunt, bought her panties to use as a cumrag at home, and got out of that room.