Diary Of A Degenerate 4

Someone was pounding on my door.

I got up and marched to the door in my underwear, ready to scream at the asshole that had the nerve to wake me up at noon on a saturday, but it was just my landlord. She was an old, used up broad. She was probably worth buying a drink for ten years ago, but now she was a novelty fuck at best. The kind that you never told your friends about.


I told her that next wednesday was payday, and surprisingly she left it at that. It was only after I headed to the bathroom to take a piss that I noticed the three inches of my shriveled cock hanging out of my boxers. Good thing I have no shame. I peeled off the five-day-old shorts and took a cold shower, got dressed, then carried two garbage bags full of empty bottles down to the dumpster. It smelled like dog shit and immigrant cum in the alleyway.


I cleaned up the apartment for about two hours, wiping and mopping up every body fluid I had to offer and then some, even washing the dishes and the coffee maker. Then I drove down to Sullivan's, the adult book store and arcade, to jerk off in a booth. I had a computer and my neighbor had an unprotected wifi connection, but I always got harder in a filthy booth, masturbating to 80's porn on a 16 inch tube tv like I when I was a kid.


"Psst!" Some guy whispered, tapping his fingers on the top of the stall door. This was the one downside of the porn shop. Fags always trying to sell blowjobs to desperate men. I pretended I didn't hear him and tried to keep my erection. "C'mon, man. I'll suck yer dick for free, I swear!" I only had eight minutes left in the booth and I was now as limp as overcooked pasta. I unlocked the booth door.


It was a fat asian guy with glasses and a big grin. He didn't say anything, didn't even look me in the eye as he closed the door behind him and reached for my dick. I couldn't punch him. I was too angry. I grabbed him by the sides of the head and squeezed hard, clenching my teeth until I felt one of my molars crack. The whole thing happened so fast, no shouting or struggle, it was like he knew it would be worse if he fought back. I pushed his head down into the tile floor of the booth where he turned onto his side to protect his face. His t-shirt was pulled over his fat gut, exposing the tip of his tiny boner poking out of the top of his sweatpants. I stomped on it hard twice before he got his hands down to protect it. He was whimpering as I gathered myself and walked out of the shop. Thanks to him I will never go back again.


 

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