Wanks with Maggots (long) Author: bughunter Email: bughunter@earthlink.nosolicitards.net Date: 1998/10/12 Forums: alt.tasteless From the 'more than you wanted to know' department: Today, I was going to enjoy my favorite kind of Sunday off: breakfast at a local diner, with lots of coffee, then a trip to the adult bookstore on the way home to rent some wank tapes... Arriving home, I take a whiz, pop open a beer, load a tape, and down a precious Vicodin from my dwindling stash to help insure I will make it thru both tapes in one sitting. Hell, I got nothing to do all afternoon - why not a three-hour wank? The guy downstairs is gonna watch football all day, which is worse? After the painkiller kicks in, I'm beginning to get into a Rebecca Lord compilation. She's a petite little hardbodied brunette with an attractive face - one that can give you a stiffie just with an expression... you know the one, lips parted, corners of the mouth drawn down in ecstasy, eyes half lidded. C'mon, baby, look into the camera-- --bzzZZZzzzz... A fly buzzes my head, rudely bringing me out of reverie. There's a glubdamned fly in the living room. "Try to ignore it," I think. But no... as luck would have it, this fly is determined to distract me from my efforts... buzzing my head, buzzing around on the screen, buzzing against a window. Waitaminnit - there's two... one on the TV, and one on the window. The lousy cat must have pushed out another screen, letting flies in. "That's it," I mumble, and pausing the tape I reach (left handed) for my chosen weapon, a 40-page voter's guide from the stack of junk mail on the end table, next to the bowl of fruit I keep there. I'm gonna kill all these flies so I can wank in peace. As I pick up the voter's guide, a few crumbs fall off of it, and peripherally, I see that a few more have stuck to it. "That's funny," I think, as I shake them free, "I haven't eaten in here since I got this yesterday." I look closer. The crumbs are stuck to greasy spots on the newsprint. Wait a second... Those aren't crumbs... they're moving... they're... ...Maggots! Dozens of them... maybe even a couple hundred of them. Sickly translucent white fly larvae, about a centimeter long, with little brown "faces." They're all over the bowl of fruit, crawling in and among all the assorted junk and magazines and dirty clothes on the end table, wriggling down its legs, on the arm of the sofa... everywhere. There's even a maggot in my pubes, from when I shook the "crumbs" off of the paper. Now where did all these maggots come from? I may have some slovenly habits, but I don't leave food waste lying around. And I always eat the fruit before... The fruit. Oh shit, the fruit. I suddenly realize I had never closely inspected the bananas I bought yesterday... sure enough, those bananas are completely fly-blown at one end. Overnight, the maggots had colonized the entire table. No wonder there are flies in the house. Now I have a dilemma - my right palm is unusable at the moment, coated in wanklube. It's gonna take more than an hour to clean this mess up, but I'm an hour into my Vicodin buzz, which will only last about two more hours at my level of habituation, and I only have three left. What to do? I could stop, clean myself up and take the time to do the job right, wasting the buzz, or I could perform some hasty damage control and get back to Becky... Brain and Choad take a vote... Choad wins. The fruit gets bagged, bowl and all. Sorting thru the junk on the table for valued items, I shake those off and then douse the entire area with bug spray, covering it afterwards with several pairs of soiled boxers, so I don't have to look at it. Dustbuster gets the maggots on the sofa and floor. Seven minutes. The paused VCR has timed out and stopped, and wouldn't ya know: Batewatch is on broadcast. The Call of the Choad renews. So I get another beer, sit down at the opposite end of the couch, freshen up the lube, and hit Play. And all I can see when I look at Becky's gash is maggots. When she blows her SD costar, she's sucking a giant maggot. When the camera frames Becky's lovely face, I'm still looking for maggots. The little brown moles that decorate her body, which I normally find erotic, are the same color as maggot faces. Glubdammit! After hunting and vacuuming maggots for only 10 minutes, I can't get them outta my mind. Then, when I glance over at the end table, the maggots are finding their way out from under the makeshift tarp - standing up on end and gyrating about, inching across the cotton boxers, spreading out again. But my choad is a sick little puppy... It's still stiff, and won't be denied. On tape, Becky is moaning and talking dirty in her slutty French accent... So for two more hours, I try to force the maggots out of my mind, and try to resist the urge to look over at the other end of the couch... failing quite often. Finally, I feel the Vicodin wearing off, and it gets more and more difficult to hold off the inevitable. And when I do launch the tadpoles, what does my mind add to the image on the screen? Maggots. Great... now I've imprinted on maggots. The image of squirming larvae, and the odor of bug spray have been superposed onto my orgasmic neural circuit, and even worse, associated with Rebecca Lord. Damn - she is one of my favorite pornstresses... but the next time I see her on tape, I just know that all I'll be able to think of will be maggots. It's gonna take another marathon wank with another tape full of exceptionally attractive women to drive maggots out of my mind. A proper cleaning job helped restore my sanity a little... But it's a week until next Sunday. Am I gonna need to change my login id?