Death by Fucking
© 2005 by Andrew Wiggin
Chapter
22
Fantasies Fulfilled?
The Year Eight
Donnie’s Story
People in this country
must think our family life revolves around sex, which is patently
ridiculous. These magazine articles have only added fuel to the
fire. First there was that hilarious Playboy article with the twin
centerfolds. Then Cosmo comes out and suddenly my and Deirdre’s naked
asses are prominently displayed in every grocery store in the country.
That issue was Cosmo’s
all-time best seller. Andrew bought three copies himself. And then the
wretched man had a copy of the magazine hand-delivered to our parents.
I’m not sure how pleased they were to receive it.
And now Dee Dee and
I are regularly appearing in the top twenty ‘sexiest women in
We are getting
propositions every day in the mail. And we have a large collection of
penis pictures. Why do men think that such things are attractive? Why
would they send pictures of them in the mail? I agree they are utilitarian, but
beautiful? Hardly. And if they are trying
to boast about their size perhaps they are unaware that we have to deal with
that monstrous thing swinging between Andrew’s legs every day of our
lives. Anything larger would be grotesque.
But Dee Dee loves all of
this: the polls, the propositions, the pictures, the penises, the publicity. She thinks it all is hilarious. Back
in 2003 we were a couple of frumpy, over-the-hill, lonely, aging
businesswomen. And now nine years and six children later we are among the
twenty sexiest women in
Helen decided to accept
our offer to come on-board, so now we have two half-finished products and a
half-built university. But we do have a full-time lawyer and a full-time
publicist. It’s the American way.
Jake is negotiating with
several computer manufacturers to use our operating system. Andrew and Jake had
to fly to
Helen needs to network
with some add agencies. The boys are scheduled to see some major players
in the computer industry. But the real reason is that Andrew wants to
visit Mad Magazine. Have I mentioned that Andrew is peculiar?
He has convinced himself
that the official mascot of
Have I mentioned that
Andrew is peculiar? Because Mad is now owned by a large
corporation they might be amenable to selling us the use of their images.
I think the truth is that Andrew is just dying to meet the usual gang of
idiots.
Andrew plans to put a
life-sized statue of Alfred E. Newman in the quad at the University. This
is what he wants for the symbol of what we hope will become the most
prestigious institute of higher learning in the world. He is such a
child.
We stayed at the RIGHA
Royal, the rooms beautifully decorated in art deco style.
Well, it was his idea in
the first place; at least the part about me being with Jake. The part
about him being with Helen was Helen’s idea. The problem had been
Jake. Coward that I am, I asked Andrew to ask Jake.
It was two weeks
ago. We were together in bed. He had reluctantly agreed to change
partners on the planned
He looked shocked.
“Me! I’m the only uninterested party here. I don’t even want to be
involved. Come on, Donnie, have Helen ask him. Or you proposition
him. Don’t you think I’m going above and beyond the call of duty as it
is?”
If I had persisted he
would have done it for me. He always does what I ask. But he was
right. Either Helen or I would have to be the one to involve Jake.
It finally occurred to me that we both should ask him at the same time.
The next day, Helen and I
were out back having some lemonade when Jake stopped by. He joined us on
the patio and we chatted for a bit. Helen and I had planned the way we
were going to go about it. Helen began the ploy.
“Jake”, she said, “Donnie
and I were arguing about something. She says that she’s right, but I’m
sure that I’m right.”
I could tell he could
care less about what we were arguing about. Still he politely took the
bait.
“What’s the disagreement
about?”
I said, “Well it’s in all
the polls. Andrew is the world’s greatest lover. Everyone knows
that. And I especially know it. I witness it every day of my life.”
Jake’s eyes
widened. Maybe this discussion would be interesting after all.
Helen took up the challenge. “Donnie, I really only have your word for
it. These polls are merely the opinion of unknowledgeable women. How
would some woman in
Jake almost spit out his
lemonade at that.
I said, “Jake? Now
Helen, Jake is a very sweet boy. But how could you compare him with
Andrew Adkins? No offense, Jake.”
Jake was startled but
said, “Uh, no offense taken.”
Helen laughed. “I
feel the same way, Donnie. Andrew is a most attractive man, but please! How could you compare him to Jake in bed?”
I said, “I guess we are
at an impasse. You claim that Jake is the world’s greatest lover. I
think that it’s Andrew. But we can’t really know, can we?”
That’s when Helen said,
“I suppose there is a way we could find out.”
Helen and I both looked
Jake in the eye while giving him our sweetest smiles. He had that ‘deer in the
headlights’ look. He had been sitting here enjoying this innuendo-laced
conversation when suddenly he became the center of our attention.
Jake is no dummy.
He knew what Helen was implying. Still, he was forced to say, “What way
exactly is that Helen?”
He was sitting between us
(we had arranged the chairs in advance so that it was his only option.)
We both moved our chairs closer to his and each of us took one of his arms.
I leaned close to him, my
breasts brushing against his arm, and said, “Jake, honey, can you think of a
way we could find out?”
In my limited experience
I’ve learned that a man with an erection is far more agreeable than a man
without an erection. It seemed to me that Jake was becoming increasingly
agreeable.
Still he tried to put up
a fight. He said, “Me? Uh, no, I, uh, don’t know how you could find
out.” He certainly knew exactly how we could find out.
I decided to be less
oblique. We already had him. That much was obvious. I made my voice
as sultry as I knew how. “Jake, Helen and I think the only way we can
really know is if we give each other a trial run, if you know what I mean.”
Oh, yes. Jake was
definitely interested. I wondered how his pants could stand the
strain.
He said, “A trial
run? Uh, how does Andrew feel about a trial run?”
I said frankly, “Jake,
you know that Andrew is pussy whipped. He admits it himself. He’ll do
anything I ask of him. Don’t worry about Andrew. We just want to
know how you feel.”
Jake is an experienced
trial lawyer. One would think he has learned to react well under
pressure. But in this case his cheeks were bright red and he had trouble
enunciating his response. “Well, uh, I don’t, uh, know Donnie. Are
you two sure about this?”
Helen replied, “Jake,
both of us have this little itch we’d like to scratch; just once, and only if
everyone is okay with it. Donnie is madly in love with her husband.
He has nothing to worry about concerning her emotional fidelity. And you
and I may be starting something pretty good, too. At least I hope so.”
“I don’t want to do
anything to harm our relationship. But some people around here seem to
think that you might be interested in Deirdre and Donnie. We thought that
the three of us, you, me, and Donnie, could scratch any little itches we might
be having. No one would get their noses out of joint, no one would be
hurt. It’s a win, win, win, situation. Deirdre doesn’t mind either,
though she has no interest in being a part of it.”
Jake again asked, “But
what about Andrew?”
I again spoke
frankly. “Because he trusts you and because he trusts me, I think Andrew
can handle this. In fact he suggested the ‘you and me’ part of
this. But when Helen came in to the picture, I of course wouldn’t
consider excluding her. She and I thought that an even exchange would be
an elegant solution. “
“Think it over,
Jake. Discuss it with Helen in private. I won’t be hurt if you
decide not to do it.” (Here I gave a little pout.) “But I would be
disappointed.”
I had Jake hooked and was
slowly reeling him in. He wouldn’t pass up this opportunity in a million
years, I was happy to see. Still he didn’t want to appear too
eager. When a man’s hard-on is making a circus tent of his pants, it’s
difficult for him to not appear eager.
He said, “I don’t know
Donnie. We’ll talk it over and get back to you.” He looked at
Helen, who licked her lips and gave him another searing smile. She looked
capable of rape.
Helen stood and took
Jake’s hand. “Donnie, Jake and I are going to go talk it over.” I
know that look. There would be very little talking going on.
Helen’s Story
I hope Jake
understands. Perhaps I hope he doesn’t understand. I’ve wanted Andrew
Adkins from the first moment I saw him. It has nothing to do with
romance; it has everything to do with lust.
I feel both passion and
romance with Jake. But still I want Andrew; just once. Then I’ll be
fine. Then I can concentrate on my new relationship with Jake. He’s
everything I’ve always wanted, is Jake. But Andrew is a distraction.
We could have stayed at
my apartment in the Village when we took our trip to
We had dinner at an
excellent Japanese restaurant; then went to a jazz club after dinner. It
just never occurred to me that Andrew and Donnie are celebrities. They
seem so normal. But wherever we went people approached them.
They both looked
gorgeous. Andrew is tall and slim and handsome; his eyes dark and
piercing. He looks like a movie star. Donnie is small, delicate, and
beautiful; blonde, soft and round. Her eyes are equally alluring, especially
when she smiles and they light up. She could still be mistaken for Joanne
Woodward, except it seems that everyone knows her for herself now.
I’ll admit that
Jake and I looked pretty damn good too. We received our share of glances
as well. I could tell that Jake didn’t mind basking in the overflow
adulation pointed in the Adkins’ direction.
While Andrew handled all
the attention graciously, I could tell that he didn’t want it. Several
women made indecent proposals to him at the jazz club, right in front of his
wife! Herbie Hancock was performing. He was terrific, but he
mentioned that ‘in the audience tonight – the Progenitor, Andrew Adkins, and
one of his lovely wives’.
Donnie seemed unfazed,
but Andrew doesn’t like to be the center of attention. I could see that
he was relieved when we left the Blue Note and caught a cab back to the hotel.
In the taxi, Jake asked
Andrew about it. He said, “You don’t seem to like all the notoriety that
much, Drew. You’re just not celebrity material are you?”
Andrew said, “What did I
ever do that warrants being a celebrity? I’ve knocked up a boatload of
women. That’s it. Other than that, what? Yes, I’ve spawned the
vast majority of kids who make up New Man, but no one seems interested in that
fact. They are more interested in the knocking up process than the result
thereof.”
“My wives and my kids:
now they are the ones that should be the celebrities. Deirdre and Donnie
are beyond beautiful. I’ve known it all along. Now the country
knows it too. And the kids?”
“Elle is one of the top
financial wizards in the country. We might as well have a branch of the
Both Jake and I were
startled by that. Donnie said, “Now Andrew, we don’t talk about the
things that Emma does.” To Jake and me she said, “Just f forget Andrew ever said that, if you don’t mind.”
I couldn’t let that one
go. “You can’t just leave it at that. What did Emma do?”
Andrew gave a wan little
smile. “
My mouth was wide.
“Oh my God; she’s the one that did that! I won’t talk, Andrew. The
man was a prick anyway. He deserved what he got. You’re
serious. Emma did that?”
Andrew just nodded.
“Emmy can do whatever she wants to do. She’s smart and devious but not
dangerous. Don’t worry about her. Any manipulation she does is
generally for the common good. Well, a lot of times it’s to pull off a
really funny prank. The girl is incorrigible, but sweet.”
Jake muttered, “Yeah, I
know about Emma’s pranks.”
I wondered what that was
about.
We made it back to the
hotel and went to the elevator. Our suites were on the same floor.
It hadn’t occurred to me that the Adkins’ would be so well known. I was
worried that Andrew would be recognized after we got off of the elevator.
After all, his wife wasn’t the one who would be accompanying him to his
bedroom, was she?
Andrew’s Story
Did you ever feel like
you were walking to the gallows? When I was a teenager I totaled my
mother’s car driving home from a basketball game. It wasn’t even my
fault. Some guy ran a stop sign. But I had to walk into the house
an hour later and tell my folks that they had fifty percent fewer cars.
That was a most unpleasant evening.
Tonight I feel like a
dead man walking. I wasn’t having pre-coital anxiety syndrome, if there
is such a thing. If there isn’t such a thing, there should be. What
else are you supposed to call it when some guy can’t get it up due to too much
thinking? Maybe I should patent the term.
But shit, I can always
get it up. Maybe if my dick would just fail me now and then I wouldn’t
have this fucking burden on my shoulders. People don’t know me.
They think they do, but they don’t.
I’ve got this absurd
reputation. I get introduced in night clubs seven hundred miles from my
home, merely because I fuck so many women. People who’ve never talked to
me applaud as if I were some kind of celebrity. Women proposition me right
in front of my wife as if it were perfectly proper. I’m the world’s most
famous fucker.
But who I really am is a
nice guy. What I really am is pussy whipped. That’s who and what I
am. I fuck hundreds of women every year. I’m unfaithful to my wives
over and over again.
But I’ve been able to
compartmentalize that portion of my existence. I’ve convinced myself that
it is a purely mechanical function that I’m performing. I’m doing the
work of the institute because I’m almost the only one who can. But I don’t
have to like it.
Tonight is
different. This has nothing to due with the Institute for the Advancement
of Mankind. This has everything to do with two couples fucking
around. It isn’t who I am. It isn’t who I want to be. My wife
is going to fuck my best friend and I’m going to keep my mouth shut and let it
happen. I feel like I’m walking to the gallows.
We rode up the elevator
to our floor. There were four of us, but I felt totally alone with my
thoughts. I can keep a stoic demeanor. I can turn a Vulcan face to
the world. I’ve been watching Mr. Spock my entire life.
We got off of the
elevator and just stood there, looking at each other. Then Donnie stepped
up to Jake, slid into his arms and gave him a deep kiss. Well jeez; you’d
think she could wait till she got to the room. I’m having enough trouble
with this without watching, too.
Donnie stepped back and
said, “Thank you, Jake. It’s been good for an old lady’s ego to know that
you’d be willing to do this. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a
man. Except I already have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
She turned to
Helen. “I’m so sorry Helen. I can’t. I just can’t.”
Helen and Donnie were
suddenly holding each other, sniffling, both on the verge of crying, it
seems.
Helen said, “Thank God!
Thank you, Donnie. You’re right. You are so right. I only
want to be with Jake. Sorry Andrew.”
She stepped up to me and
gave me a kiss on the cheek. I put my arms around and gave her a real
kiss. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so relieved. I just received
a last-minute reprieve from the governor. Jake and I looked at each
other. He had a bemused expression on his face. He kind of shrugged
his shoulders and half-smiled. He didn’t look a bit disappointed to me.
The two couples parted
company and went to their respective suites, but the combination was different
than originally planned. Donnie held my hand possessively as we walked to
our room.
I slid the card into the
key slot and opened the black lacquered door. We walked in to the
beautiful deco-style living room of our suite. I closed the door and
Donnie turned to me. I could see she was pissed.
She pushed me against the
wall and laid into me. “How could you let me go through with this?
You bastard, when are you ever going to stand up for yourself? Don’t you
have any backbone at all?”
I said, not unreasonably,
“But, but, I only wanted you to be happy. I thought you fantasized about
being with Jake. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
She said, “You fucking
idiot! Jake is built just like you. He looks like you. He
plays tennis like you. You are who I fantasize about, not
him! Jake is sexy. Of course he’s sexy. Haven’t you ever
looked at another woman and thought she was sexy?”
I shook my head.
“No I haven’t. I’ve never looked at another woman since the day you and
Dee Dee walked in to my life. How could I?”
I mean, can women turn
things around on you or what? I never wanted this thing in the first
place. I only went along with it because I’m such a pussy. And now
she’s laying the blame on me? With that kind of logic, no wonder I
never win an argument with my wives.
She was still
pissed. “But you pushed me into the arms of another man! How could you
think that I could be unfaithful to you?”
Here was an argument I
couldn’t win. A woman can maneuver herself to the right side of any
discussion about a relationship and the man has no idea how she does it.
One minute you’re a totally innocent bystander, the next minute you’re an axe
murderer. How does she pull that off? You end up apologizing for her
wanting to be unfaithful.
I said, “I’m sorry,
Donnie. Please forgive me. I love you” - the last desperate statement of a man
who knows that he has lost and the only thing left to do is drop back and
punt. Sometimes it works.
She attacked me.
She threw her arms around my neck, pressed her body against mine and went
directly for my lips. Finally she stepped away and pulled me into the
bedroom. She hurriedly removed my clothes and pushed me back on the bed.
I heard her mumble
“you’re going to get it now.”
Her clothes went
flying. I’ll admit I was already hard. I’m rarely in close
proximity to either Deirdre or Donnie without being hard. It’s some kind
of syndrome I have, I guess. There is only one cure. Donnie looked
like she intended to apply the cure immediately.
She was naked. It’s
hard to describe how beautiful she is without clothes. Her body
mesmerizes me. I can’t take my eyes off of her. She is so
small. After three kids she still weighs her standard 110 pounds.
But where one might expect to see bones or sharp angles, there is only softness
and curves. Her skin is like silk, soft and sultry.
But tonight she wouldn’t
let me drink in her beauty. She climbed on top of me so that she was
perched directly above my dick. She grabbed it so hard I winced, moved it
till she found her entrance and then in one stroke fully impaled herself on my
hardness.
She screamed on the way down,
then pulled back and began slamming herself up and down my cock. She was
still angry. As she gasped for breath and moaned her arousal, she began
to curse me out.
“You son of a bitch,
don’t you ever look at another woman again! Do you hear me? Oh
God! Never! You are mine you
bastard. Oh, fuck!”
As she humped me she
began to beat my chest with her little fists. She had become a crazy
woman. She was fucking and hitting, hitting and fucking. I couldn’t
help it. I laughed. She was just so damn cute.
I reached up and pulled
her toward me, letting her ride my dick but holding her at the same time.
I kissed her gently then began stroking her hair, pulling her face to my
chest.
Donnie’s movements became
more erratic as she neared her completion. I was somewhere between hot
and confused. Suddenly she sat up straight and ground her pussy down on
my pubic bone. Her mouth was open but her eyes were closed. Her
face was a mixture of pain, pleasure, anguish and passion as she moaned through
her fulfillment.
And then it was
over. Donnie collapsed on my chest. She lay there, still impaled on
my dick. Her arms were around me and her cheek was pressed to my
chest.
Then she began to
cry. Her emotions were a mess. The poor thing’s body was wracked by
sobbing. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but have you ever been buried
deeply in the pussy of a beautiful blonde and tried to maintain your composure
while her body vibrated on your dick? It’s well nigh impossible.
Still, I tried to console
her as she came down from whatever high she was on. I know enough about
women to understand that we were going to have to talk this whole thing out
before I could hope to get any relief.
Donnie said, “I’m so
horrible! Oh, Andrew how can you stand me? I do awful things.
And then I blame you.”
I patted her head and
said, “It’s alright, baby. Everything’s alright. I am to blame for
this.”
That wasn’t a good
idea. Still crying she popped her head up and said, “Will you stop being
such a wimp!? I created this mess, not you.”
It was obvious she wasn’t
going to let me accept responsibility as a means to end the discussion, even
though I was perfectly willing to do so. Somehow I was going to be blamed
for it in the end anyway. Why couldn’t we circumvent all the angst in the
middle and go right to the conclusion of the conversation? But she wanted
to talk it through. How like a woman.
She said, “How can you
stand to be with me? You’re so young and I’m so old.”
Okay, now we’re getting
to the root of the problem. Age insecurity strikes again.
I said, “Donnie, we’ve
been through this over and over again. You’re an ageless, timeless
goddess. Our age difference means nothing.”
She wasn’t buying what I
was selling. “Maybe it wasn’t so bad when we first started out. But
now I’m into middle age and you are still a young man. Andrew, I’m
forty-four years old. That’s middle aged. How can you still love
me?”
I said, “You are looking
at this all wrong, Donnie. From a certain point of view we are closer in
age than we were nine years ago.”
She stopped crying and
blinked. I could see she was interested in listening to the convoluted
logic that I would use to prove that statement.
She sniffed, “What do you
mean?”
I said, “When I was twenty-five,
you were 40% older than me. But now that I’m thirty-four you’re less than
30% older than me. The older we get, the proportionally closer we get in
age. It’s simple mathematics.”
Her mouth opened but
nothing came out. I think I had successfully diverted her from her
original line of thought.
She said, “Andrew, you
think things that no one else has ever thought. You think things that no
one else has ever thought of thinking. I love you, sweetie, but you are
thoroughly strange.”
I tried to defend
myself. “I’m just an average, normal guy.”
She shook her head.
‘You’re not average and you are far from normal. Yes you come wrapped in
that beautiful package. But it’s easy to see how the children have turned
out the way they have. You have a touch of strangeness and they inherited
it.”
She did it again!
She started out with this mea culpa but now the focus of the discussion was no
longer her but me. How do women do that?
I said, “I don’t know
what the heck you are talking about.”
She said, “You do
statistical analyses of card distribution in computer solitaire games because
you think the computer is cheating you. Average people would assume you
are just being paranoid, but then you prove you are right! Average people
wouldn’t notice the problem in the first place.”
“You buy paintings of old
farm women and then attach the body of playboy centerfolds to their
heads. You have theories about subjects that normal people don’t even
recognize as subjects, let alone have theories about.”
“You love women who are
ten years older than you are. You refuse to acknowledge that the age
difference means anything. You are absolutely the most peculiar man I’ve
ever met.”
I figured I could ignore
all the other stuff. Anybody would see the things I think about and do
and theorize about are perfectly ordinary things. Nothing
strange going on there. Her real problem comes back to the age
difference.
“Donnie, let’s get past
this, could we? You are one of the most alluring women in the
world. You’ve heard me say it a million times, but now the whole country
acknowledges it. You are half of one of the twenty sexiest women in
“Oh, Andrew, you know
that Dee Dee and I are only basking in your reflected glory.”
“My reflected glory? Are you
nuts? I’m a guy who is famous for fucking women I don’t know and don’t
want to fuck. What kind of glory is that? Only in
“How you can worry about me
loving you or finding you attractive just boggles my mind. You are a
walking incitement to riot.”
I latched onto Donnie’s
nipple with my mouth and rammed my dick deep within her. I heard her
gasp. If I can’t talk her out of this funk, I’ll fuck her out of
it. One good thing has come of having all these women. I’m not
world famous because I’m bad in bed.
We went from a standing
start to fucking like mad minks in the space of a few seconds. I was
horny, upset, angry, relieved, embarrassed, and a bunch of other emotions I
couldn’t sort out. Donnie surely felt similar if not matching
emotions. We needed to cleanse our souls the old fashioned way.
She said, “Oh, Andrew.
This is what I need from you right now.
Her arms went around my
back, her legs circled my hips. We needed to establish who belonged to
whom. I’ve felt it but I’ve never told her. I’m not a sexist.
I’m not a male chauvinist pig. But I just can’t share her. I’m not
that sophisticated.
As I rammed into her
harder with every stroke I began to talk. My arms enveloped her and we
pulled each other tightly together.
“You belong to me,
Donnie, only me. We belong together. I’ll love you. I’ll take
care of you. But you belong to only me.”
She smiled that warm
mellow smile of hers even as I was fucking her senseless. We brought our
lips together and she gave me one of those soul kisses that drive every thought
from your head.
She said, “Andrew, these
are the arms I want to die in”.