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How I Met My Wife

How I Met My Wife



|Views: 813 |Likes:
Published by Devon Pitlor
A man is seduced by a woman capable of shape-shifting
A man is seduced by a woman capable of shape-shifting

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Published by: Devon Pitlor on Jan 19, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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 HOW I MET MY WIFE by Devon Pitlor 
I.When I arrived on the island, the night air was redolent with the scent of unwashedCanadians. A fat, shirtless man with an enormous flowing beard, laced with piecesof the evening meal, thumped a vague rhythm on the bronzed skin of hispreponderous belly. Eventually he fell into an alcohol-induced slumber in hisrecliner, and, with gaping mouth, eventually tumbled off with a muffled splat ontothe ancient paving stones of the hotel patio. Juan the bellman snapped his fingers,and a boy with a two-wheeled handcart came to transport the sleeping tourist to hisroom. I ordered another 50cc of island rum and asked Juan for a small pack of powder and a rolled up 500 bolivar note to snort it with. Obligingly, Juan broughtme this amenity and inquired whether I wished for the company of a teenagedvirgin to while away the languid night.Stultified, I opted for solitude and sipped the lukewarm rum while casting asuspicious eye over the assemblage of expatriots, refugies and beggars whodecorated the landscape of the patio. The Americans, always obvious, were grosslyobese and slovenly. They clustered in a horrible montage of parrot shirts and too-tight summer skirts. They talked of real estate and the anticipated exploration of guano caves the following day. One of them confessed to killing a woman friend"long ago" because she had offended him with "overpowering perfume" on a firstouting. The others roared in approval. Strong perfume, they agreed, was reason initself for homicide. As the group became more lubricated with chucha, a 20 stonewoman admitted that she had overdosed her late husband on Seconal "because hesmelled like mushrooms." Suddenly, the company of the ex-pats becameunbearable, and I rose from my chaise-longue to distance myself and experience theother side of the pool--wherein I saw floating a dead macaw, without doubt thevictim of some unseen treetop violence.Round the pool, another group--this time younger---had clustered. This band wasdifferent in that they were all slapping their hips and snapping their fingers to someunheard beat that seemed to reach them from the sierra above. They weavedtogether and undulated with clumsy, uncertain steps to sounds that only they couldhear. Distracted by their simplicity, I decided to venture into the pueblo and explorethe dark underbelly of island life.II.A bit about myself: Before arriving on the island, I had just edged my way barely
through Yale's Charter School of Social Economics and grasped the almostpurloined parchement in a less than fervid temper as if it were an unwanted andunearned prize. Looking for an avenue to escape the dreary confines of New Haven,wherein I had abandoned an ill-fitting gaggle of jagged female-centered affairs likethe unmatched pieces of a psychotic jigsaw puzzle. I craved the grostesque, thebaroque, the macabre, if you will, so I chose at random an offshore island, a mereatoll, and hastened to find a vessel which could deliver me there. The ship, merely aboat, was called the Mary Doom and her one port of call was this island. And it washere that my real adventure began.III.Wandering through the vine-choked villa, I caught sight of some black-clad nuns insolemn habit slaughtering a monkey and hacking its bleeding flesh into plasticbowls. I enquired of the good sisters in my best broken Portuguese whether theircloister accepted tourists and other visitors. The tallest one of the lot, whose name Ilater found was Maria del Fuerte, informed me without ceremony that I would begiven a bed in a stone walled chamber of the cloister if I were indeed a penitant. Iassured her that I was and that I would willingly submit to the ritual flogging with abarbed cat-o'nine tails which was required of all penitants. The sisters thus led methrough an ancient mossy rock gate and into their modest quarters and bade me tostrip naked, thus exposing my muscular chest and impressive bodily fixtures, whichimmediately inspired a burst of delighted laughter from the sisters assembled.Maria del Fuerte took the whip and flayed me five times in unison across therippling and defined musculature of my strong back. As she whipped, foam bubbledfrom the sides of her mouth. As the teeth of the flail bit into my taut flesh, I began totake without shame an erotic pleasure from the pain inflicted. Each of the foursisters in turn flogged my loins and flanks until, bleeding, I fell to the soft, dampearth beneath me and tasted the warm, salty brine of my own blood as it flowedfrom numberless lesions in my skin through my parched and beseeching lips andinto my open mouth. I tasted the wet night soil of the cloister yard and begged anuncaring god for forgiveness for my trespasses on earth.IV.Following my flogging ordeal, the good sisters dressed my wounds with coconutleaves and palm oil and rendered to me a succession deep-muscles massages as I layprostrate on a cot of thorny vines. As I recovered my senses, I became aware that theputative leader of the cloister, the tall and willowy Maria del Fuerte, was indeed abeautiful woman though concealed neath a rough and colorless garment of coarsecyanide-dyed cloth. Purposely she let her ample breasts fall from her shirt top as shestroked the muscles of my calves and thighs. Still in agony, I caught sight of two fullnipples, swollen no doubt by the pleasure of seeing me helpless and supine.Eventually the vigor of her massage technique caused her formless garment to fall
completely from her body and onto the dusty stones of the chamber to which I hadbeen confined. Her body mirrored the very essence of pulchritude and my nostrilswere at once assaulted by the piscine fragrance which emanated shamelessly frombetwixt her thighs. Still writhing beneath my wounds, I glimpsed a trickle of womanly liquid snake a path down the inside of one of her legs. Despite my pain, Ibecame desirous of carnal union with this stunning and radiant beauty. My wantondesire overtaking me, I became aware only of the pungent attraction of this buxom,ripe and libidinous charmer.In the jungle's bosom, I could hear the nocturnal screams of howler monkeys,simian intruders who seemed to urge me forward in the very kernel of my lust.V.Maria del Fuerte, now scorchingly nubile, suddenly ceased her massaging andmoved her full and pleasingly pouty lips toward the fount of my manhood, whichwithout hesitation she engaged between the top of her wet tongue and upper lips.Swallowing my length, a full 13 inches, she gurgled in throaty pleasure and pumpedher head with passionate purpose over my tumescent and pulsating manpart. Igasped in inexpressible ecstacy, searching through my weak Portuguese vocabularyfor the words to describe the sublime sensation which her unceasing lips and theirstrong, purposeful vacuum rendered upon my maleness."Amo estar chupado," I stammered, gasping the only thought which crossed mymind, and this in Spanish, as the precise vocabulary of Portuguese fled from myovercharged brain."Si, amo chupar," she murmured between her teeth and my turgid member.It wasn't Berlitz, but Maria del Fuerte, a Sister of Mercy, got the message.Her oral frenzy remained unchecked and unabated until, at length, my passion wasspent in one enormous gushing moment of sublime delirium which filled the nun'smouth with tangible proof of my aroused passion.Ingesting my package, she left not a trace of my salty lust upon her full and sensuallips. Then she arose and lit a small rolled cigarette which she had previouslysecreted beneath an ancient cask near the corner of the stone walled cell.[to be continued]
VI.Spent and exhausted, I watched the good sister reclothe herself not without undue

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