Greetings to everyone.
It has been some time since I last wrote about my experiences in my memoirs. The past few weeks have been particularly hectic with Christmas and the arrival of the New Year.
The last several months have been quite unusual for me. I quit my job at the warehouse, began working at a pizza delivery service, and then was let go.
I’ve made an effort to be a good person, and for the most part, I believe I have succeeded. However, my luck with women has been rather disappointing…in fact, it’s been quite non-existent. I’ve come close several times, only for things to go awry, ultimately leading me to ruin something of mine at home while donning my gimp mask and rubber suit.
During the Christmas break, I spent a considerable amount of time reflecting and concluded that perhaps I should attend some kind of support group…a council where I could express my thoughts. After all, it’s said that sharing a problem lightens the burden. There’s nothing to lose, and since I’m currently unemployed, I figured I might as well try it out.
In the local newspaper, I stumbled upon an advertisement that stated, ‘HIG-FUP – WE HELP EVEN THE UN-HELPABLE’.
That sounded perfect for me, I thought. However, I needed to understand what HIG-FUP represented. After looking it up, I discovered it means Help Is Good for Fucked Up People. Amazing…I may be feeling down, but I don’t consider myself entirely messed up. Regardless, it’s a donation-based group, and since I’m not exactly flush with cash right now, off I went.
The counselor’s name was Vanessa. She was wearing glasses and had her long red hair pulled back. She was dressed in a black medium-length skirt with black stilettos.
The session commenced with each of us sharing a bit about ourselves.
There was a group of five individuals, including myself, who could be described as ‘fucked-up.’ Doris appeared to be merely lonely and appreciated the companionship once a week. Then there was Bert, who was significantly overweight and could barely squeeze through the front door. Angela was battling a sex addiction, while Joan was reportedly someone with an addictive personality.
Angela, the sex addict, presented herself almost like a high-class escort. I had a hunch that Bert and Doris occasionally paid her for companionship. I can’t prove it, but my instincts suggest that. Observing people’s body language often reveals a lot. There’s nothing inherently wrong with what they’re engaged in…as long as it brings them happiness. It likely aids them in dealing with their individual issues. I mean, tackling a sex addiction is no small feat; a little weight loss could boost Bert’s self-esteem, and Doris wouldn’t feel lonely while spending time with them. In fact, I doubt Doris is that interested in the sexual aspect; she’s just incredibly lonely.
Joan intrigued me. As the newest member of the group, she seemed to take an interest in me…perhaps due to my newness and her addictive nature. She looked to be in her forties and was fit, resembling someone who may have been an athlete in her younger days. Slim, toned, and strong.
Vanessa allowed us to express our thoughts and then transitioned the conversation toward discussing how misunderstood we often feel by others. I suppose it was her role to guide us in reframing our perspectives, encouraging us to stop pointing fingers and to examine our own lives. She can’t hand us the answers; we must uncover them ourselves with her as the facilitator. By the end, we might emerge with a newfound appreciation for ourselves, or perhaps even a desire to change. Who knows? But it certainly felt beneficial to have discussions, even among this eclectic group.
When the session wrapped up, Angela, Bert, and Doris departed. That left just Vanessa, Joan, and me. I suggested that we grab a quick drink before heading home. There was a lovely pub just around the corner, and Vanessa didn’t seem to mind the idea of a swift drink, so I accompanied my two new companions.
We ended up having more than just one drink,We were all laughing, and perhaps there was a hint of flirting, but overall, everyone was in good spirits. I invited them to my place, and they agreed. My intentions were purely platonic; it was just good friendship.
Once we arrived at my house, I went to fetch drinks for both of them. When I returned, I found Vanessa and 
Joan making out on my sofa. It was genuinely sweet. Their affection was more than just playful, so I quietly tried to slip out of the room to give them privacy, but Vanessa insisted that I take off my clothes and join them on the sofa. I complied. Vanessa teased that if I behaved, she might let me wear my gimp mask and rubber suit next week. While I found it a bit odd, I figured it must be part of some therapy.
I approached, and both Joan and Vanessa eagerly took their turns with me, akin to hungry puppies. The contrast between the curvy Vanessa and the athletic Joan was striking.
The three of us enjoyed an amazing sexual experience together. I braced for the typical moment when I would usually feel nauseous or lose control, but to my surprise, that didn’t occur. It was fantastic. We exchanged bodily fluids and experienced multiple climaxes, with the women outdoing me in that department, but it was without a doubt my best sexual experience in years.
After our escapade, we all snuggled together on my bed and shared a cuddle before drifting off to sleep.
The following morning, I awoke to yelling and a significant commotion. To my surprise, I saw Vanessa and Joan shouting and binding me to the bed face down. A dreadful smell permeated the air—I had defiled the bed. Not only had I soiled it, but it was as if a hippopotamus had taken aim at me from above. It was an absolute mess.
Normally, when things spiral out of control in my life, I end up damaging something in my home, but this time, the tables had turned.
Vanessa immediately headed to my fridge, retrieved an enormous cucumber, and proceeded to wreck me thoroughly—truly RUINED. As if that wasn’t enough, that slender she-devil squatted over my head and did her business on me—absolutely literal.
Let’s not forget about that vile councilor who relentlessly assaulted me with that cucumber while simultaneously urinating on me. Surprisingly, I found the pissing almost comforting and it helped me endure the entire situation.
It seems that some things never really change in my life.
Wishing you a truly wonderful evening. It’s been an absolute pleasure sharing this with you.
by Tony
