Wednesday, March 21, 2007

The Craigslist Do

Late September, 2005
New York City

Gark strolled out of Striker's room with a shit-eating grin on his face. Striker had been out, likely with the Virus, the tiny demon to whom he was chained. It was through Striker that I originally met Gark, yet these days I rarely ever saw the two of them together. Gark held a seething hatred for the Virus in his steady, booze-slowed heart and he now had a mild distaste for Striker, for willingly dating such a demon.
Gark had begun to show up at our place in Miami the second year we were living there. It was back then that I learned not to ask Gark questions like "How did you get here?", "When are you leaving?" or "Did you take that out of my room?". Not because I was afraid of Gark (although I was) but because Gark simply couldn't answer questions like that. He'd respond in some sort of nonsensical tangential manner that would always end up involving pussy.
Gark and Striker had gotten along well in those days in Miami, as they both shared the common, all-consuming goal of getting pussy. Striker was able to communicate with the guy much better than I could. Evidently, they had grown up together, so Striker was able to understand Gark's fragmented, stream-of-consciousness ramblings.
Gark had been upset by Striker's decision to date the Virus, but to my surprise, this did not stop him from visiting the apartment. He'd stop by with a few 40s or a half-empty bottle of peach schnapps- whatever he could dig up- and just start boozing it up in our living room. He wouldn't say a word to Striker, but he'd constantly prod me to go out in search of pussy with him. Sometimes he'd come in boozing and just sit in Striker's room, perched against the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the women in the building across the street.
But on this Monday evening, it seemed Gark had done his homework. For weeks, he'd been singing the praises of Craigslist, prattling on about how it was going to revolutionize his sex life. I have to admit, I hadn't thought much of this drunkard's ramblings at the time. But now Gark was saying that a girl had responded to his ad, and he'd just spoken to her on the phone. Her referred to her only as Strauss, and he said Strauss wanted us to meet her at the Port Authority. "What do you mean us?", I queried. As Gark began to respond, I realized something shocking- this man was sober! I interrupted to ask if this was indeed the case, and Gark responded in the most coherent manner I'd ever heard. It was like meeting a new person. He explained that he hadn't yet had time to get drunk yet, and while explaining this, he poured himself a tall glass of vodka topped off with a splash of gatorade.
He also explained what he had meant by "us". He had posted the ad looking for a girl who wanted to get double teamed. Fresh off the last double team with Gark only weeks prior, I was not up for another round*. Gark assured me he had taken care of all the details this time- the girl was OK with getting banged by us separately, as long as she got to have two cocks in quick succession. I told him I refused to go to the Port Authority, but he could invite the girl to the apartment. If she looked OK, I'd bang her. If not, he was on his own. Gark was quick to agree to this, and he gulped down a large portion of his cocktail before retiring to Striker's room to make his phone call.
I made a vodka and gatorade cocktail for myself and settled down on the couch. Terminator was on TV. I hadn't seen it in a while, and I was surprised by how dated it looked compared to how cool I remembered it to be.
I thought about the ridiculous turn my evening had taken. I pondered this currency-free pre-arranged fucking, and wondered how close it was to prostitution. Ultimately, I decided I didn't care either way. I killed my drink and made another one. Gark was on his third.
The Terminator had already killed the first two Sarah Connors by the time Strauss arrived. Stoned up, lightly buzzed and enraptured by the awesome cyborg violence, I had nearly forgotten all about our guest. Gark jumped up and answered the door in a majestically creepy manner, hungrily eyeing his prey as he fixed her the house special, vodka gatorade. They sat on the couch, and I was introduced to this curious young nymph called Strauss. She was small and impish with a pale complexion and chin-length sandy colored hair. Her face was not entirely unpleasant, having a round and average look to it, only mildly spoiled by the dark circles under her eyes. Strauss was not somebody I'd approach in a bar, but I'd definitely fuck her in a bedroom of somebody's after-party. At any rate, I had decided that, yes, I will intercourse this strange wanderer, brought to my apartment at the hands of a ghoul called Gark.
Gark and Strauss sat next to each other on the smaller couch. The Terminator was repairing his arm and his glowing red eye. I said nothing, staring straight ahead at the screen as I became more immersed (and more impressed by Cameron) in this dark dystopian world. After a few moments of awkward silence, Gark stood up, downed his cocktail and pulled Strauss into Striker's room. He did not close the door.
I made myself a third stiff cocktail and smoked a bit more herb as I watched the Terminator kill an entire precinct full of cops. I heard a belt unbuckling and lowered the volume for a moment. I heard nothing. I listened for a good 10 seconds, and still nothing. I turned the volume up and got back to the task of boozing when I heard a loud slapping sound. I turned the volume back down. More silence. After about 5 seconds, I heard another very loud slap followed by more silence. This pattern continued for several minutes, and so I turned the volume back up.
Sarah Connor and Reese were in the motel room, about to conceive the baby who would ultimately lead the humans to victory against the evil machines. All of a sudden, Strauss exited Striker's room fully nude and went into the bathroom. She looked happy enough. She closed the door to pee, and Gark sauntered out in a pair of Striker's mesh shorts. He looked pleased. "What the fuck were you doing to her?," I asked, perplexed by the strange sounds I'd heard. Gark told me that he had been fucking her at an extremely slow rate, while slapping her on the ass extremely hard every few seconds. When I asked why or how he could possibly want to get off that way, he answered in the typical Gark nonsense I had come to expect.
Strauss exited the bathroom and approached me. She looked pretty good naked. I became aroused. She asked if I wanted her to start with clothes on, but I told her to just get in my bed. I had only been wearing shorts to begin with, so I got naked as well and jumped into after her. We did not kiss, but instead began immediately to explore the other's body. It was an interesting experience. Definitely not romantic, it reminded me of my first sexual experiences in the 6th grade. I got naked with Kirsten and Laura** one day after school, and we explored each others' bodies with earnest human curiosity, a far different prospect than the stumbling hormone driven encounters of high school or the artless thrust of drunken adult hookups. And this excitingly anonymous encounter brought back those first beautiful memories.
"I'm just gonna fuck you regular. I'm not gonna do anything weird like Gark," I assured her. After a minute or two of groping and stroking, I hovered over her in the missionary position. I took a condom from the night table and she sheathed it over my boner for me. I proceeded to bang her in a straightforward, no frills manner, finishing inside the condom rather than a more humiliating portion of her skin. When I was done, we immediately removed ourselves from each other's grasp. I pulled on mesh shorts and left her to collect herself.

The Terminator was hot on Sarah's trail, and Gark was sitting on one end of the couch. I sat on the other end of the couch, and Strauss, still nude, sat between us. I sat back and took a couple pipe hits as the blood from my rapidly softening boner began to disperse back into the body. Gark began fondling Strauss' leg and soon enough she on her hands and knees, facing away from him. He was back-fingering her, which was forcing her face onto my crotch. Gark took his other hand and put his fingers in her asshole. Strauss was now loudly moaning and my boner rose up to meet her face. She pulled it free from my shorts and choked herself with it, while her body swayed at Gark's command, his hands deep inside her like a puppeteer. After consuming this second, weakened load of my essence, Strauss wiped her mouth and, like a real trooper, turned around to take it from the other side. Having just lost 2 bales of semen in quick succession, I was feeling drowsy and contented, idly poking at her muggy birth canal as she sucked away at Gark's knob. The Terminator had emerged from the flames as a metal endoskeleton, his red eyes gleaming in the night. As this freight train of a movie began to slow to a stop, Strauss consumed Gark's seed. He had her back in her clothes and ready to leave even before the end credits started rolling.
Gark said he'd walk her out, and Strauss and I shared nothing more than a casual wave goodbye. Gark had impressed me on this ordinary Monday evening, and I resolved to think twice before doubting this strange and resourceful fellow again.

*I'll tell the story of the first double team with Gark another time.
**The hottest babes in the whole elementary school.


Yolanda Pumpernickle said...

“At any rate, I had decided that, yes, I will intercourse this strange wanderer, brought to my apartment at the hands of a ghoul called Gark.”

Simply amazing. And a tidy summary of your life.

Submit this to Playboy. Actually, submit any of the sex stories to Playboy.

CountryGirl_CityLife said...

So do you think I am hanging on to my love of cupcakes because I refuse to grow up? And isn't a wedding cake just really a giant cupcake? Maybe that is when the official transition from cupcake to cake happens.

I am enjoying the stories of your quite active and interesting life albeit a bit hazy.

Digger said...

Great pic of Vigo the Carpathian.

He was also known as Vigo the Cruel, Vigo the Torturer, Vigo the Despised, and Vigo the Unholy.

Digger said...

Also, props for using The Terminator as a backbone/timeline for this insane whore's sexcapades.

Aids patient said...

gark gave me herpes

Gark said...

Go fuck yourself, aids patient. You already have aids. Die of aids.