The Proverbial Bump in the Road>>>

Everything being equal, I should have been quite happy with my situation, but, as you have no doubt already discerned (and if not you should be fucking ashamed of yourself), happy was not something I was ever going to be. Not, mind you, that I was ever Unhappy either. I just was, and that was always just perfectly fine with me. Anyway, my guy was doing everything he could to make me happy. He bought me everything I even mentioned. He took me places. We must have gone to K-Mart nearly four times each week, in fact some of the people there actually seemed to remember us and wonder what we were after next. But even stuff gets boring after a while. I needed something more.

My dude had definitely fallen in love with me, which is, at first, exactly what I wanted. I figured, rightfully so, that I could lead him around if I could make him fall for me. I also knew it would take nothing for me to make a man, who was already obviously looking, fall in love with my beautiful self. This, though, was beginning to go a bit too far. People were beginning to talk, which, honestly, didn’t mean a fucking thing to me. BUT mouthy people tended to stick their nosey selves into places where they did not belong. AND, guess what, they did it again.

I had to keep showing him what he wanted, all the while getting everything I possibly could. I had all or the latest game stuff, a couple of TVs, a HUGE stereo system, the latest Alpine in my car, even two VCRs so I could tape stuff from HBO. In fact, I was pretty ostentatious about my stuff. Everyone knew what I had, which, of course, sparked jealousy. The jealously started the proverbial tongue wagging. The tongue-wagging begat innuendo. The innuendo became rumor. The rumor was suddenly fact, AND fact, of course, is undeniable. My poor benefactor was soon ensconced in a whirlwind of popular distaste, distrust, and finally legal questioning.

What you all will hate about me, and as you know it doesn’t matter, is that I really didn’t care. In fact, I was getting a bit tired of his cloying ways and feeling it was time to move on. The dumb ass shouldn’t have let me get away with all he did, but that is the nature of the beast, I suppose. Love does odd things to people. Lucky me! I would NEVER have to worry about such a moronic emotion.

Not that I really think I have to, but I am going to tell you some of things that happened to my guy. My reasoning is just that some of our societal “checks and balances” do not actually HELP anyone. Truthfully, they vilify some of the very people that really ARE trying to help. It must be known that most people do fall in love AND that love finds you, you do not find love. Anyway, this is what got him into trouble.

He continued to want to do for me, regardless of what was happening around him. I heard his people saying things about our “relationship.” His family, though nice to me, at times to a fault, was not happy with the arrangement. In fact, I overheard one of them talking about how I was doing nothing but using him. Right on the mark, momma. Too bad your sonny-boy didn’t listen to you that time either, huh?

Because of his obsession, his work soon began to suffer. He was checking up on me at all times of the day and night. He began to drink more regularly than he had before, according to him it was because he was bored when I was not around, therefore needed something to do. I would call him whenever the urge hit, maybe 2 AM, maybe 5 AM, and, whenever the call came in, he would come to pick me up. Yes, I had a vehicle, but why should I drive when I could get him to do it? No matter what shape he was in, he would get into that car and come get me from wherever I was. I couldn’t have cared less about any consequences of his inebriation and obviously he didn’t either.

After my arrival we he would sit around while I played video games. He would watch as I made tapes I could sell to my acquaintances. I always tried to get him to play the games with me but he hated doing it so I finally gave up. Soon, the sun would be coming up and he would be SUPPOSED to be getting ready for work. Usually he did the normal morning routine, but he never followed through and ended up calling in to say he would not be there. Though he had enough money to do what he wanted, he still needed to keep up appearances as well as his built up prestige. I helped him ruin that.

Within about two months from when I had begun to get bored, the law became involved in a major way. Something had happened one day while I was at his house that caused me to have to go to the emergency room. I was basically staying with him and only him at that time and neither one of us thought about such a thing. My mother was around, but not always easy to find because she knew I was OK, not that I wasn’t always OK, but you know what I mean. So in this instance, I ended up with something wrong around my dick. I was actually scared for the first time in my life because my nuts began to swell up and soon they looked like a baseball. We went to the emergency room where he tried to explain our relationship. They immediately separated us and would not let him stay with me. Within five minutes there were cops at my bedside. It turned out I had an STD, probably from one of those fucking high school assholes, literally, I had been fucking around with on the side that had gone unchecked for a while.

While I was being interrogated, I found out later, he was, too. It turns out that the cops are nasty mother-fuckers, not that you didn’t already know that. They told me he was talking and they told him I was talking. The stupid thing they did, though, was use phrases and words both of us absolutely KNEW the other would not say. I also knew that there was not way I was going to let something that good slip away, besides, nothing we were doing was in any way wrong.

Regardless of what we said, the powers that be decided we could not see each other for at least 60 days. Can you imagine how fucking pissed-off I was? Probably not, because most of you think what we were doing was not right due to some fucked up moral code you have. That, of course is one of the reasons I HAD to write this down before…

The Social Services agency in the state had more power than GOD. I hate using such terminology, but it seemed to be not far from the truth. While nothing less than the Constitution of the United States of America, and I THOUGHT that was where I was, allows for certain freedoms and rights, the Department of Children and Family Services has some untoward authority to usurp the law of the land based upon supposition. They decided that we needed to be investigated to determine whether or not there was something going on. Mind you, my mother, and you already know as much about her as you need to know, didn’t have any problem, I had told them there was nothing wrong, and my dude had said there was nothing going on. The only thing they had was my STD, and, as I told you earlier, it didn’t come from him anyway. To make matters somewhat worse, he was so freaked out by the entire situation that he even went to his doctor to get himself checked out (I could have passed it to him but didn’t really want to tell him that.) but. Luckily, he came out clean.

As an aside, let me tell you about the test they do for this. I am going to preface this by saying it definitely ain’t for the squeamish. The first thing they tell you is that it will cause some discomfort. Well, that is the epitome of the understatement of the decade. Imagine, if you will, seeing someone take a Q-Tip and hold it near the tip of your dick. All at once you get the idea of what they are about to do and immediately it shrinks. Then, no numbing, no special tool, they slowly put it to the piss slit, slightly turning it like you would when cleaning your ears, and slide it in. Once in, they turn it around to do, what I do not know. Finally they pull it out, quickly and without fanfare, and put it in an envelope that probably goes to some lab somewhere. All the while, you are sitting there feeling more violated than you ever have before and are practically in shock as to the feeling still there. It, honest to God, took me about three weeks before I could even touch my cock without a slight feeling of revulsion. Oh, not at myself, of course, but at the memory of the, “invasion,” as I had come to call it.

Anyway, as you have probably surmised, this did not stop us. What it did was actually rejuvenate our previously slipping relationship. Me, being me, I was in no way going to let someone else tell me what I could and could not do. And he was so infatuated; he could let me go. We snuck around in the dead of the night. We would meet at out of the way places where he would get a hotel room and say we were working on a project. I was actually having a blast. This new clandestine shit was more exciting to me than that last couple of years had been. I was in a whole new world and was going to make the best of it while it lasted.

I would suggest some movie and he would pick me up at one of the stores or another. I might say I wanted to go swimming, so we would meet somewhere and go to the Eastgate Coliseum. There were time I just wanted to go back to his house and play my games, but he would never allow that, at least at first. I felt as though we were living some kind of James Bond existence. He was always looking behind him, in the rearview mirror, out the windows, everywhere. He was freaking out; I was having the time of my life. Soon, though, that too began to take its toll.

My dude’s problems soon began overtaking his life. He showed some major signs of a mental breakdown. The guy was beginning to become completely introverted and never wanted to be seem in public with me, one of the things I liked the most because he was so fucking white, while I was of an indeterminate background due to my, as I have told you before, beautiful skin tone. People had always given us odd looks, which he at first relished. Now they made him fear someone was “watching” us. Even people to whom he had spoken often, those few I had met, were on his list of folks who “probably said something to the cops.” I ALMOST felt sorry for his ass. One time, luckily I wasn’t there because I had finally convinced him to let me return and fuck him a couple of times a night, a sheriff’s deputy knocked on the door while his sister happened to be staying. That particular incident sent him into a hole I could from which I could not bring him back. He didn’t leave the house for at least a week, not even for me!

Though, as I said, I was pretty much done, this I took as a personal challenge. It was hard for me to believe that all this time I had spent on this guy was going to be fucked up by some stupid bitch putting her nose in a place it did not belong. I had pranced around seducing him by increments over the past year. We were finally at the point where every time I wanted a blowjob or to fuck, he just opened one orifice or another let me do my thing. I wouldn’t do anything for him, but I definitely got what I needed from him. He was pretty fucking good, too. I had to get that back before I left, damn it!

I began calling constantly. Most often he just let the answering machine pick up the call. Once every probably four or five times he would actually pick up. I tried to be nice to him, that didn’t work. I tried to be pushy, that didn’t work. I even got nasty, that didn’t work. My only other plan of attack had to be physical. I went to his house, leaving my car on the street because he had never allowed me to park it there. Now that I think back that was no better really because, as you already know, that car was not something someone would NOT notice, but I didn’t really give a shit. I rang the front doorbell and he didn’t answer, but I did get the feeling he was looking out. I then went around back to the slider. He didn’t come to that either, so I did what popped into my head (you can feel the humor building here because the words “popped” and “head” both have a dual connotation and both are being used). I unzipped my Levi’s and pulled out my dick. I began beating off right there and was hard in less than two seconds. Within the next three, I was being pulled in the door like something you would see in a movie.