25 comments/ 7207 views/ 3 favorites CRAP By: SW_MO_Hermit I look at the thermometer. No, I don't go outside or get out of my recliner and walk to the window so I can see the old fashioned thermometer on the porch. Hell a coupla years ago one of the boys gave me this new fangled one that sits on the bookcase where I can see it from my chair. All electronic ya know. Has this here outside thingie that radios the temperature and humidity right into my house so I don't haveta get offa my ever enlarging tushie ta see it's too damn hot to go outside and knock around. Musta been a good present. Took the wife and me three days to get it working and then I had to have one of the boys help with it. Alla this new 'lectric stuff is like that. A three year old can just take it and make it go. Us old farts have to call them for help. Shit, look at my cell phone. Wanna make a phone call? Ok, fine. Push the button on the side. Slide yer finger across the front of it. Push the little phone button then tap the button of the man's head. Run your finger up the phone and watch alla the names go by until you find the one ya want. Tap the screen a coupla more times and the phone rings. Well that's the way ya do it unless you're in the car. If you're in the car just say, "Call Joe" and the mouthy bitch in the dashboard says "Calling Joe using Jim's phone." The wife looks over at you and says, "Honey what are you calling Joe for? You know he works in a high security area and has to leave his phone in a locker at the door." Oh, Crap. She's right. "Cancel" "Call cancelled." "Thanks Bitch." "Honey were you talking to me?" "Uh, no honey. Why?" Crap. I look outside from my recliner. I almost need to mow the grass but as hot and dry as it is if I do it might kill some of it. Besides, I look at the fancy thermometer on my bookcase. It's 10:30 in the morning and already 92 degrees. Weather service web site says high of 99 today. Guess I won't bother with the mowing today. Hell I can't even go outside and fuck around. Damn medicine I take says stay out of heat and sun. I believe it. Every time I ignore the small print and go outside I get dizzy and weak and feel like crap. Of course the damn allergies don't help much. Crap. Wonder what's on TV. I pick up the remote off the table beside my recliner and scroll through the channels. Crap. Not a damn thing on I want to watch. We have 157 damn channels and there's nothing on to watch. Crap. There were a few good movies on but I've seen them a million times. I could almost act the main parts myself. I toss the remote onto the table and it slides off on the floor. Crap. Now I have to try and pick it up. You know how far down the damn floor has gotten for a man my age? Maybe I'll try to read. I don't have any good books to read that I don't almost have memorized. Maybe one of my favorite authors has posted something new online. A lot of the crap posted is pretty bad but some of the guys and gals do it right. Hell, it's amateur writing for craps sake. You shouldn't expect professional quality here but from reading some of the comments left by Mr. Anonymous that is what's expected. They seem to take fiction personally and attack the author personally because the story that is labeled fiction doesn't agree with their picture of how things should be or are. Ok, that took a couple of hours. Read a couple of interesting short stories. I sure like it when some of the masters post something. Guess I'll go online and see if I can play some poker. Hope I don't run into a Macho asshole that throws his play money into the pot trying to scare off someone with just a mediocre hand so he can brag about how he bluffed him out. I know I shouldn't play as if the money was real but I do. After all, the idea of the site is to entertain and "sharpen your poker skills". Of course the site is commercial so they have to have some way to make a buck. Well, I won over $30,000 pretend dollars in a couple hours. Guess my pretend family will eat their pretend food for a while. Tired of this. Wonder what else I can do? Hum, solitaire on the ole computer? Naw. Really, really tired of that Crap. Well, guess I'll write on another of my stories. The one I'm working on is already much longer than I like. I guess my topic was too broad. Have over 60 pages and am just about two thirds done with it. Even with that many pages I feel as if I have glossed over many potentially interesting things that I could have written about. Guess I'll have to go in and add something in a place or two before I go farther. This one may be 100 pages before I complete it. Sure am tired of writing it already but I have so much time invested I WILL finish it. Sometime. Soon. "Hey honey. Why don't we get in the car and take off for a few days?" "You know we can't dear. You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and we have to go to the dentist on Thursday." "Well we could leave Friday for a week or so." "No, you know I can't do that. I have my quilt guild meeting Saturday." "Well how about leaving Sunday?" "No that won't work. We have the man coming to install your parent's new toilets Monday. You know you should be there to help them." "OK, ok. We can leave Tuesday then." "Well I guess we could but we would have to come back Wednesday. I have a doctor's appointment Thursday morning and another one Friday morning." "Oh. Crap. I reach for the phone. I'll call my youngest son. Maybe he can talk. Push the button, slide the finger, tap the phone icon, tap the little man's head and shoulders, slide my finger up until I find my youngest son's name. Tap it. Ok, what time is it there? He's two hours earlier than we are. Which of these phone numbers do I want to call—home, mobile or work? Crap, it doesn't matter. He always has his cell with him. Tap that button. Ring, ring, ring, ring. "I'm sorry I can't answer my phone right now. Leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." End the call and toss the damn phone onto the table beside my recliner. Hum, it's almost noon. Wonder what's for lunch. I'm not really hungry but it's almost time to eat. That'll fill in a few minutes. Sure hope it's something that tastes good. Nothing seems to taste good lately. "Honey what's for lunch?" "I don't know. What sounds good?" "I don't know. It's almost noon. Haven't you got anything out to fix?" "No. I didn't think of it." Crap. I wander into the kitchen to see what's there. Fridge has a few left over's in it. Nothing looks good. I take a sip of coke and walk back to the recliner. Crap. Guess I'll work on my story again for a few. I sit typing for a few minutes and watch as the wife goes into the kitchen. I hear some clatters and clangs then the microwave begins humming. Guess she's throwing something together for the lunch I'm really not hungry for. Ring, ring, ring. I pick up the phone. It's the youngest son. "Hey dad. What do you need?" "Nothing. Just thought we could talk for a few." "Oh. I was worried. I thought maybe something had come up with mom's cancer. I'm in the middle of a tactical exercise here (he's in the army and is a "Operational Controller"—I think that's the proper term—at the National Training Center at Ft. Irwin, CA.) and I can't talk. I need to go. Let me know if something comes up. I'll call you when I have time and we'll talk." Well, that went well. I throw the phone on the table and hear, "Honey lunch's ready." I wander into the kitchen and see the leftovers I saw in the fridge now steaming appetizingly (not) on the counter awaiting my attention. Wow. After my exciting lunch I wander back to my chair once again. Maybe someone has posted some new stories. Well, I guess not. Solitaire here I come. Hey, it's finally dark outside. Maybe I can go to bed. Well, it's only ten p.m. but I'll try to sleep. There's nothing else to do. Damn. Shouldn't have drunk so much water yesterday. I need to piss. When I piss I see it's already 11:23 p.m. Wow. Crap. Need to piss again. Oh, boy. It's almost 1:30 a.m. now. Finally I see dawn breaking. I stumble into the bathroom once more. Finally, I can get up. It's 6:30 a.m. That was a pretty good night. I only had to get up four times to piss. Damn I sure hurt. The whole body aches. Sure wish I could have at least one morning a week when I felt like I did when I was in my thirties or forties. Crap. Think I'll sit on the front porch before it gets too hot and watch the kittens play. Sure wish I had a dog but if we ever got to go anywhere it would be almost impossible with a dog. You can leave outside cats alone and them take care of themselves. I hate cats. I pour my first cup of coffee for the day and take a sip. Tastes like crap. I used to enjoy coffee in the morning. This new stuff is crap. I step onto the porch and one of two things will happen. I will either trip over the damn kittens or they will be nowhere in sight. I hat cats. They're always under foot. Wish I had a dog. Crap. I need to buy some new cushions for these chairs. I forget to put them up and the damn cats climb up on them and get them dirty. Looks like someone ate a mouse or rat on my wife's chair last night. There is some bloody fur on it. Crap. I'd better wipe it off before she comes out and tries to sit down. No cats in sight. Oh, wait, here comes momma cat. At least she's polite. Hates to have us touch her. All she wants from us is her food. Damn cats. I have the kitten's treats but they're nowhere to be seen. Every time we have meat of any kind I cut the fat and gristle into little chunks and give the kittens a little. My wife says if I didn't do that they wouldn't be under my feet so badly. Damn cats. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty." Fuck, here comes momma cat. "I don't want you bitch. Where's the babies? Kitty, kitty, kitty." Crap. Still no kittens. Guess I'll just have my coffee and watch the sun come up over the hill and barn. The door opens. Huh. The wife's up early today. It's only about eight. "Honey what are you doing out here? You know I have a doctor's appointment this morning. We only have a little over an hour to get there (we live about 40 miles from town). You need to hurry and get dressed so we can go. I don't know why you have to sit out here naked. What if someone came down the road?" "We live on a dead end private drive. Its ¾ mile to the highway. If they come down here fuck them if they don't like to see my fat old body. It's hot out here and I'm on my own property. I'll dress like I want to." "Well come on in. We need to go." Crap, traffic's bad today. No one knows how to drive any more. "Move it asshole. The damn light's been green long enough for two cars to get through." BANG! Lurch. My neck and back twist and it feels as if my arms are driven back past my shoulders. The wife screams. CRAP I've just been rear ended and we're driving the almost new car. I get out of my car and walk to the rear. There's about four feet between my SUV and another, older one. A big honkin' woman gets out of her SUV and says, "I'm sorry. The light was green and I didn't see you there. Is there any damage?" Crap. Didn't SEE me? I'm driving a damn candy apple red SUV and you didn't see me? Crap. Believe me lady if the asshole in front of me had moved when the light turned green I would have been gone and out of your damn way. Of course as soon as we got hit he took off like a scalded cat. Damn, now that you mention it, I hate cats. Ok, ok. Exchange information. Thankfully there's no serious damage. The rubber on the back bumper is scuffed. I look under the car and everything seems ok. Enough of this crap. "Look lady. I know you're sorry. I don't have time for this. The wife's already almost late for her visit to the Oncologist. Look, I gotta go." "I'm sorry. I didn't see you." Finally, we get to the Oncologist's office. We're only ten minutes late. WHAT THE FUCK? We've been sitting here for thirty minutes. What's going on? The wife goes up to the window. When she comes back she says, "They're having to get some approval from the insurance company and the woman who has to sign the papers is out to lunch. It'll be another thirty minutes or so. Crap. "Ruth?" Well, finally. I look up and the nurse is standing there looking around. I have to say, "I'm sorry. She went to the rest room. She'll be back in a minute." "Ok." The wife comes back. I say, "They called you while you were gone." She looks around. No nurse. Crap. We sit another ten minutes and hear, "Ruth". This time we get up and follow the nurse back into the Chemo treatment area. We take our seats and the nurse gets vitals and plays twenty questions. You know—"Do you have pain? On a scale of one to ten... Are you tired? Ok, on a scale of one to ten..." Crap. "Ok honey. We'll get back to you as soon as we can. The insurance company is having their doctor review the necessity for this shot (It's for medication to increase white blood cells). It shouldn't be too much longer. "Why are you doing that?" "Well we have to get treatment approved before we provide it or it won't be covered." "I know that but why are you doing it today? We got a letter after her first chemo treatment that this shot would be covered." "Oh. We've given you this med before? I wish you'd told us that and we wouldn't have had to do all this paperwork again." Crap. Well, finally we can go home. I sure want to be home. I'm tired of this crap. Fuck, look at all the damn people and cars. Maybe one of the cats will let me pet it when we get home. Finally. We're home. Damn I'm tired. Well, wonder what I can do with the rest of the day. Guess I'll look and see if someone posted a new story or another chapter on one I'm reading. Sure wish the authors would either post more often or wait until the story was completed before posting. Sometimes it is so long between chapters I forget what went on before and I have to read some of the earlier chapters again. Well, one of the guys posted another two chapters. Great. I have something to do for a few minutes. Nothing on the damn TV again. Wow. It's getting dark outside. I can go to bed soon. Maybe that'll pass some time. Sure hope I sleep better tonight. Maybe some Tylenol PM will help. WOW. That wasn't a bad night. I was only up twice. Wonder if the kittens are on the porch this morning. Maybe they will play for a while. Crap I sure hurt. I'm getting tired of this crap. Damn, gotta go in. It's already 87 out here and its only 9 a.m. I'm beginning to feel bad from the heat. Crap. Surprise, surprise. Nothing on the TV again. Guess I'll write about all this crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. That was all she could think of saying inside her head. Crap. How had she ended up in this situation? She'd made a bet with him over something stupid. It was so long ago, she couldn't even remember what it was about, but now he was cashing in his chips. While she knew it wouldn't be anything outrageous, like making her hitchhike nude or going around asking men what their favorite flavor lube is, she knew it wouldn't be pleasant for her. They'd known each other too long for him to be cruel to her, but the length and depth of their relationship also caused them to take liberties with each other that they wouldn't take with others. That's what happens when you stay good friends with someone who you've had a sexual relationship with. Crap. He refused to tell her what it was about; he told her she'd remember the bet once they got started on her *ahem* payment. The only thing he would tell her is that she'd better take extra-extra special care with her cleansing 'rituals' he knew she had. She'd always start with letting the shower run until the water was at a constant temperature. She hated standing under the shower while the water tempered, getting alternating blasts of hot and cold. While the shower readied, she got her robe, slippers, lotions and moisturizers ready and set aside on the edge of the spa tub. She already had all her soaps and cleansers in the shower, lined up in the order of use. When that was all ready, she'd finally step under the hot spray. First the hair, washed and conditioned, then the teeth brushed twice and a full 30-second gargle, then the face, gently scrubbed and exfoliated. She worked her way down her body with an exfoliating pouf lathered with honey-almond gel. The arms, then the torso, around to her ass, then the legs and feet, then she'd move back up and use some of the lather squeezed from the pouf on her breasts. As usual, when she touched her nipples, they hardened slightly. Her breasts were nice; 36C, heavy underneath, nicely rounded, with jutting nipples and dusky areolas. She squeezed more of the lather off and lathered her Rubenesque ass. Men loved her ass. She was short, with a tiny waist, those lovely tits, and oh, that ass. They'd love it more if they knew that just a few inches away was the tightest of tight pussies, perfectly Brazilian waxed, smooth as can be. She gathered a bit more bubble and stroked herself, reveling in the feel of unbelievably satiny skin. Nothing was better than waxed sex, oral, or otherwise. Sometimes just the thought of what lay behind the eyes of the men she talked to made her antsy. Many times, she could see them trying to steal a glance down her blouse when she leaned forward, and she felt eyes following her when she walked away. It helped, she supposed, that she was naturally gregarious and usually walked around with a smile. She was not one to sleep around, though, and chose her partners very carefully. Having had a friend get date-raped, although thankfully, not violently, was enough to make her think twice about getting too familiar with unknown men. Granted, sometimes this left her without, but really, it made sex that much better when she got it. She sure did want some lately considering how long it had been. She broke her reverie and got out of the shower, making sure to dry off completely so that she could better moisturize. She slathered on the matching honey-almond lotion, covering her still warm body, and rubbing it in until she smelled as sweet as she felt. She put on her robe and slippers and went to her vanity to start her hair and makeup. The phone rang. She knew it was him because she had just had a landline installed recently and he was one of the only people with the number. She knew it was him because she had already spoken to everyone else that day on her cell phone. She knew it was him because her heart started thumping, prickles of dismay at not knowing what he had in store climbing up her body. She wondered briefly if he intended anything sexual, decided that it had been so long that he probably didn't, and dismissed the thought. He told her that she'd better be ready to have a good time. To dress nice, that he had a nice surprise for her. She put on her favorite black panties and bra, and the cute black dress she had bought a few weeks ago. Some heels, a matching purse, dangly, sparkly earrings and a velvet choker with a pretty pendant completed her outfit. She took extra care with her hair and makeup and finally decided that she looked good enough to eat. So he took her to dinner. Nice restaurant. She couldn't be so lucky as to have her debt repaid with just being good company. A few drinks at the bar, and in the car, he finally told her what her task would be: she had to choose between two pretty boxes. She thought the blue box looked better with her outfit, so she chose that one, but he wouldn't let her open it. That was for back at the house. Back home, he handed her the box. Nestled in pretty, iridescent tissue paper, there they were: anal beads. Crap. Now she remembered. When she was with her last boyfriend, he liked anal. She didn't, but it was probably because he didn't care enough to make sure she did. Sure, he lubed her, made sure he never actually hurt her, but anal sex was more than that. It was a very personal, trusting thing to do. The ex turned out to be a dick, and that's where the bet came in. When she first started having sex with the ex, she complained about that but other than that, he was an all-around nice guy. When he told her that the ex was going to use her and break her heart, she insisted otherwise. When she told him about the ex liking anal but being so self-absorbed about it, he came up with the perfect idea. He bet her that once the ex was out of her life (oh, no, no, we'll be together forever), he could make her love having a hard cock in her ass. Sure, she agreed, because she believed that she and the ex would get married and ride off into the sunset, happy forever. She never thought about it again, and after two years of a deteriorating relationship with the ex, she finally had enough. Another year and a half of getting her own life back together, separate from another, and she was back on track, living her life, and reconnecting with friends. So here they were, two old, good, friends with a set of analbeads and a bottle of lube he just produced from a pocket between them. Oh, well, fuck it. He was good in bed, very considerate and passionate, and it had been too long since she'd been well-fucked. She unzipped the dress and let it fall around her ankles, stepped out it and then her heels. She padded over to the sofa and sat down in her bra and panties, legs slightly open, the scent of honey-almond rising up from her warm pussy. He took off his shirt, got down on his knees in front of her and blew hot kisses through her panties, finally moving them over with his fingers and finding her hard clit with his tongue. She slid down the sofa a bit, opening her legs wider, and he removed her panties, which were already moist with her juices. She took of her bra while he started licking her inner thighs. She sighed contentedly, closed her eyes, and started really enjoying the thought of him eating her pussy. Always his favorite thing, and practice does make perfect. He put his hands under her to lift her off the sofa, inadvertently spreading her wider. That was his opportunity: he touched his tongue to her ass, taking a moment to realize it was as smooth as the rest of her, then dove in. He laved his tongue up and down her asscrack, loving the smell and taste of her. When he decided that he couldn't get enough of her like that, he got her up on her knees on the sofa, which allowed her to drape her arms over the back and support herself. He reached up and pinched her nipples, rolling them around between his thumbs and forefingers, pulling them slightly. He was rewarded with a moan, and her ass undulating in his face. Still pinching her nipples, he buried himself in her ass, working his tongue into her puckered paradise. When she moaned louder, he let go of her nipples and put two fingers in her sopping wet pussy. She jumped, inside and out, and he actually felt her clit get harder. He told her, between laps, that he was going to lick her ass, tongue-fucking her hole until her pussy spilled all over his fingers, and then he was going to lube her up and slide his cock in and out of her tight ass until she begged for more. She'd never had anyone lick her ass like this before. The ex, acting as though he was doing her a favor, would lick her pussy just until she was wet, and on the rare occasion he was feeling magnanimous, would make a pass or two over her ass. Not enough to even make it interesting, but she didn't realize then what she was missing out on. This was incredible. His tongue, alternately firm and pointy or soft and flat, licking her ass gave her sensations she'd never felt before. She honestly believed she could come just from his tongue in her ass. Its slightly rough texture was something she'd never noticed before. He finger-fucked her pussy and tongue-fucked her ass. Then, while doing all that, he touched her clit. She exploded, panting and moaning, rubbing her ass and pussy against him uncontrollably. Not letting her go, he continued to lick and finger her until she sagged against the back of the sofa, legs quivering. He told her that he was going to make her beg for his dick in her ass. He told her that he was going to make her want him to ream her asshole, and that he would have her begging for it. He grabbed the bottle of lube and put some on his fingers, then dribbled a bit on her ass. He stood behind her, and gently eased a finger into her ass. She moaned and pushed back against him, but he wasn't done. He undid his pants with the other hand and let them drop to the floor, along with his underwear and stepped out of them. Kicking them to the side, he continued to finger-fuck her ass. He reached for the analbeads and worked some of the lube onto them. When he popped his finger out of her ass, she clicked her tongue and wiggled her ass at him. He moved behind her and slowly eased his cock into her pussy. When he was in completely, he started inserting the beads, one at a time, matching his slow strokes. Each time he got a bead in, her asshole puckered and tightened around it, making his hard cock jump. Each time, she wailed and pushed back against him harder and her pussy twitched. He began slowly fucking her, reaching down occasionally to tweak her nipples. He alternately pulled the ring on the beads, but not enough to make them come out, just enough to make the last one rub against the inside of her asshole, twisting them slightly. Between the beads in her ass and his cock in her cunt, she began a long, shuddering orgasm. When he felt it coming on, he pulled the beads a bit harder and fucked her a bit faster. No, he wasn't going to pound her pussy; he was saving that treat for her ass. He knew when she reached the beginning of her climax and he began to pull the beads out, one by one. She gave a long, mournful cry and bucked back against him, begging him to fuck her harder. He told her, between strokes and beads, that he would only fuck her harder in her ass. As soon as he got the last bead out, which was really only a few seconds, she couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck my ass, fuck my ass, fuck it! Oh, please, please, fuck my ass." He pulled his soaked dick out of her pussy and buried it in her ass in one thrust. Her ass, still pulsing from her orgasm, was unbelievably tight. It was like a velvet vice around his hardness. She was still lubed up, and as he began pumping in her tight hole, she started making little noises in the back of her throat. Grunts and groans in between begging him to keep pounding her ass. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her body, making her understand now why she had always felt something missing from her sex life. He drilled into her ass, for what felt like forever, and when he felt her loosen up a bit, he reached down and touched her clit. Had she not been impaled on him, she would have hit the ceiling. She began begging again for him to fuck her ass. Her moans bordered on shrieks, and he was glad she wasn't in an apartment anymore, with neighbors to hear her ecstasy. He rammed into her, pummeling her now tightened asshole. He watched his dick sliding in and out of her, pulling her with him slightly on the outstroke. He never dreamed when they dated that he would one day look down and see himself fucking her snug hole, filling her narrow rear passage with his hardness. He reamed her lubed ass mercilessly while she moaned and shuddered. He listened to his balls slapping against her ass and thought that maybe next time, he'd make her beg for his dick in her asshole while he spanked her. When she began to come again, he told her he was going to fill her ass with his hot cum. Just the thought of him shooting his load into her waiting ass was too much for her. She was at the peak of her orgasm when she felt his cock contract and then fill her, spasm after hot spasm. She sagged against the sofa for the second time that night, and he pulled out and dropped to the floor. He wanted to fuck her some more, but didn't want to taste himself, so he let her rest and then go clean up. When she came out in her robe, hair disheveled he told her he was going to fuck her ass again later and watched her eyebrows arch ever so slightly and her lips pucker unconsciously. Later, after a repeat performance, and realizing that the bet she had feared actually precipitated the best sex she had ever had, she asked him what was in the green box that she never got to open. "Just another set of beads," he said.