Back In The Game Ch. 13

It had been a couple of days since our hook-up and I hadn't heard from her, not that I expected to. We hadn't exchanged any details, so how could she get in touch?

Social media? I was a ghost. During the darkest days of the divorce, when the reality of my life crumbling really sunk in, I drank. A lot. And with the drinking came a night of drunk online posting.

What started as tales of brokenheartedness turned to bitter recriminations of my wife and all her friends, all of whom I was convinced knew of her infidelity and had conspired to ruin my life.

I kept drinking and kept posting and they kept getting longer and viler and less coherent as I began to tell My Truth to the world, shouting it from the virtual rooftops, sharing every home truth and dirty little secret I could think of, most of which weren't even true. Yet, in that moment, I believed every word. It was like it was all being handed down to me as if a revelation from God.

Needless to say, I was not greeted as the next Great Prophet.

The closest I got was a few DMs recommending I stop posting and go to bed or will "regret it in the morning." But I was already too far gone, and it had gone too far for it to stop. No, I had to see it through to the end.

Then, at three AM, after the rambling, directionless screeds had dried up, I had a moment of clarity. It was so profound and clear that I set upon working on it right there and then:

My Mission Statement.

The basic premise was that the world was a cold, lawless place governed by cosmic forces that were utterly indifferent to us. Nothing mattered, no one mattered. All we were here to do was to survive and spread our seed. But society had emasculated humanity, "civilised" us at the expense of our core animal drives. We had become separated from nature, from each other, from ourselves.

The world was too far gone for anyone to do anything about it, so the only way forward was to throw off the shackles of conventional society and embrace The New Natural Law: If you have it, it's yours.

And what I wanted, I'd decided, was women. All the women my wife knew, every single one. Especially the married ones. It was, I declared, my life's mission to seduce and fuck every single woman she knew, from the bride of honour at our wedding ("pure hate fuck") to the friend with whom she'd shared an experimental lesbian tryst at college ("to ruin the memory"), to her sister ("younger, hotter and tighter"), and even her mother ("a filthy whore of a gilf who's pussy has taken more loads than UPS").

I went on like this, running through her friends list one by one, musing on precisely what I thought about them, how I thought they would like it, and a rating from one to five, based on fuckability, sluttiness and how much it would hurt my soon-to-be cunt of an ex-wife. It was only when about 5am I passed out that my crusade came to an end.

It would be fair to say that this was not my finest hour.

I woke up at 10am, still on the sofa, my laptop on the floor, screen cracked, and my trousers smelling of piss.

I didn't want to move, wasn't sure I could but the smell and the dampness and the overwhelming urge to vomit forced me up and I stumbled out of the room (standing on my laptop screen as I went) and up to the bathroom.

I turned on the shower unit over the bath and went and chucked up my guts in the toilet (mostly hitting the target). I then stripped off and stepped into the bath, into the refreshing water, before slipping and crashing down into the tub. Pain shot up through me from my ass to the fire that was raging in my brain. And I lay there and I cried and wished that I would die, the hot water running over me, washing off the booze oozing from my pores, only for the next layer to take its place.

I just sat there and cried, the booze and the hangover and the pain and the fear mixing up with a sense of existential dread that I couldn't place. I had no recollection of what happened the night before but I knew it was bad, and even if it wasn't, then everything else was. So I sat there and cried until the water ran cold.

Afterwards, I dried and went downstairs to get some water, not even bothering to get dressed. The kitchen was in a state, with empty bottles and cans all over the place, open packets of food on the counter where I'd tried and failed to make something to eat and was fortunate (unfortunate?) to not burn the place down.

I had a drink of water then grabbed a black bag and swept it all in, plates and all, not bothering to save a single thing.

I picked up the laptop, the screen utterly fucked. I found my phone, completely dead. The room smelled of piss, so I sprayed the sofa with bleach and gagged as the chemicals burned my eyes and throat.

I went upstairs to put my phone on charge and threw up again. I scrubbed my teeth clean and gargled with mouthwash for an inordinate amount of time. I knew I had to check my phone, but couldn't bring myself to even think about what might happen.

My teeth must have been cleaner than they had been in my life by the time I found the courage to turn on the phone. I instantly regretted it. Message after message after message on every conceivable medium, missed calls, text, WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram (I didn't even know I had an account), messages and emojis filled with love and concern, at least at first. But the further down I got, the further into my Mission Statement they had delved and could see in real-time how people went from sympathetic to concerned and disgusted, inevitably ending in termination of all contact from this point forward.

I was called every name under the sun, people that hadn't spoken to me in years, decades even, desperate to tell me how disgusting I was, how bitter and hateful. They had always known I was a misogynist degenerate and now they had proof in black and white! Of course, she was right to leave me and it was no surprise she was fucking around given what a worthless piece of human garbage I was.

After a certain point, I didn't even read them. It was clear I'd burnt every bridge I'd ever built and then scattered the ashes into a volcano into which I'd dropped a nuclear bomb. My old life was officially over.

I deleted every message, blocked every number, and closed all of my social media accounts, erasing everything I had ever posted. I became a social media ghost.

I had been that way ever since.

So, it was a surprise when I received a phone call from a company I'd never heard of about a job I hadn't applied for.

"We found your profile on LinkedIn," explained the lady on the phone. It appears they were "very excited" about my "previous experience," even though I had no idea what they were talking about.

I considered telling them they had made a mistake, but truthfully, I needed this. So I arranged a time for the interview and was about to hang up, when the lady on the phone asked me to send her a copy of my CV, "just for our records." I agreed and hung up.

The whole thing was surreal and I was half expecting a call back informing me of their mistake. I felt a little sorry for whoever was supposed to get the message, but I needed a job. Badly. I'd almost completely run through my savings and unless I found a new source of income soon, I could add "homeless derelict" to my imaginary dating profile.

I spent the rest of the morning researching the company in preparation. By the end, I still had no idea what they did or why they would possibly be even "vaguely interested" let alone "very excited" about me. This was definitely a case of mistaken identity. Still, it was all I had.

The next couple of days were spent polishing and embellishing my CV so it resembled something they might actually be interested in. After that, I prepared answers to imaginary interview questions and practised my old office demeanour to try to give a sense of being a respectable professional, not the pathetic shell of a man I had become.

Finally, the day arrived and I went to the office. It was an impressive affair in the business district, much fancier than anywhere I'd worked before. I immediately began to feel intimidated by these young upstarts in their hand-made suits and perfectly styled hair. I felt out of place, was out of place, and was half-expecting to be thrown out on my ear by security clearing the place of vagrants.

But no such thing happened. I entered without being accosted and approached the beautiful young secretary who radiated warmth and approachability but still remained professional. I handed her my identification documents and waited to be rejected, but was told, with a smile, to take a seat and that someone would call me soon.

I sat and watched the people, and even though I hated them and their privilege, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to work here. To come to this beautiful, clean place every day, wearing the finest threads, not to mention being able to afford it. I thought about seeing these beautiful young secretaries every day, chatting, flirting, getting off with one at the Office Party, maybe a sneaky blowjob in the stationary cupboard, her on her knees gleefully accepting and swallowing my cum. The height of professionalism.

"They're ready for you now."

I looked up from my daydream and saw another daydream standing in front of me. It was as if every woman here was a model. She was tall and slim, her tanned skin bringing out her hazel eyes.

"Thank you," I said, and got up. I followed, trying my best to be professional, but in those dark tights and high heels, with her tight-fitting skirt perfectly outlining her ass, it was a real challenge.

She led me into a room where two men, one about my age, the other about ten years older, sat on one side of a table.

"Please, sit," said the older man. I did. "Help yourself to a glass of water." I did.

"Now," said the younger man, "before we begin-"

There was a buzz in my pocket. Then another.

"Sorry," I said, taking my phone out of my pocket, "I thought I'd switched it off."

"No problem," said the older man. "We're all interconnected today. Everyone needs to speak to everyone immediately, to show them something, record what they're doing right that moment, the cataloguing of all human endeavours no matter how irrelevant to the grand scheme of things. You might even say we are all controlled by modern technology, coerced even."

As he continued his strange monologue, I sorted out my phone. The alerts had come from an instant messaging app I didn't know I had, shouldn't have had.

miss u and ur big cock

want u inside me right now

I assumed it was one of those spam accounts and was about to delete the message when another one popped up.

good luck with the interview xox

I hadn't told a soul about this, not least because there wasn't anyone to tell. Logically, there was only one person it could be. Yet how would she know? Sure, she could have installed an app without me knowing and looked up my number at the same time, but how could she possibly know about this? Was she watching me? Following me? Did I have an obsessed twenty-year-old stalker? Was my life becoming a Lifetime movie?

I was about to put it down to coincidence when another message popped up.

ur reward if u get it

An image began to load, and I watched as the little icon spun round and round. Finally, the image became clear and right there, taking up the entire screen was a picture of her asscheeks pulled wide, exposing her tight little asshole.

My reward.

I tried to keep a straight face because all I wanted to do was get my face deep between those cheeks and eat her out, rimming her little hole, before sliding my dick into her tight ring and fucking her, before cumming deep in her ass.

But she wasn't done yet, because there was another message,

ur consolation prize xoxo

Another message loaded. Her bright pink pussy, two fingers spreading her lips giving me a full view of the glory hole between her spread legs.

I wondered how the pictures were being taken. Surely she couldn't-

"Everything alright?" Asked the younger man.

"Oh yes, sorry," I said, switching my phone off and slipping it back into my pocket. "Something important coming up later."

The younger man didn't seem overly impressed, but the older man seemed completely unphased, sympathetic even.

"Right, let's get to it then, shall we?"

***

The rest of the interview was completely generic. Questions about me, my work experience and what I knew about the company. They asked for some examples of projects I worked on and I outlined some of the (mostly truthful) contributions I had made.

The interview team had a bit of a good cop/bad cop vibe going on, with the younger man grilling me until I got into difficulty, at which point the older man would step in to provide a clarification or ask a leading question to help me get back on track.

Throughout, I thought there was something familiar about the younger man, but I couldn't place it. I thought maybe we had gone to school together, but from his voice and mannerisms, it was clear we were from completely different worlds.

Nevertheless, I got through it relatively unscathed. I didn't wow them, but they didn't laugh in my face, so I considered that somewhat of a win.

At the end of the interview, the young lady who escorted me to the room arrived to escort me out. As I was walking through the door, I turned to thank them for their time and I noticed the younger man's foot sticking out of the side of the table where he'd crossed his legs and found myself thinking they were nice shoes, I wonder where he got them.

I returned my visitor's pass to the secretary and she handed me back my identification documentation. She smiled as she did so, her big perfectly white teeth on display.

I wondered if that was the same expression she would make as I came on her tits.

Outside, I switched my phone back on and, checking to see no one was around, opened the messages. Along with the two close-ups of her beautiful holes, was a close-up of her bountiful breasts, her arms pushed in, pushing her tits up and out.

maybe i have another lil job for u

I looked at the shot she definitely didn't take herself and again wondered-

"Disgraceful."

I turned off my phone and slid it into my pocket, ready to be chastised by someone who had seen the unbridled filth adorning the screen.

"They think they can play contractual games and not expect us to put up a fight."

Not too far away, two men were discussing some dispute or another, nothing to do with me. I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to my car.

On the drive home, all I could think about were those photos. Indeed, they took up so much of my mental capacity that I nearly crashed on more than one occasion. It got so bad that I had to pull over to the side of the road to try and focus. But I couldn't do it. All I could think about were her tight holes waiting for me.

I thought about jerking myself off right there and then in the driver's seat, but as cars continued to drive past, I knew that wasn't the best idea. So, there was only one other thing for it.

I got out of the car, careful to avoid oncoming traffic, then walked around and began my way up the embankment by the side of the road. It led to a wooded area and I walked and walked, deeper and deeper into the darkness. Truthfully, I probably went quite a bit further than I needed to go and by the time I stopped, I could hardly hear the traffic, or indeed, anything at all.

I stood and looked and listened, but all I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears and images of her flashing before my eyes. With one final check to make sure no one was around, I pulled out my phone and examined the photos in detail, the little darkness around her asshole, her neat little flaps exposed as her lips parted, her small, pert nipples begging for my tongue.

I reached down with my spare hand, unzipped and struggled my cock free, jerking it the second I could. I thought about how good her pussy had been, the taste, the tightness, and how her ass would compare.

I thought about how she took the photos. Was she bent over, her camera on a little stand? Unlikely given the high quality and perfect framing. She had probably had someone take them, Jessica. I could see it all, Lizzie, casually stripping off in front of her BFF, then lying on the bed, playing with herself, getting nice and wet for the photograph, the blonde girl watching all this on the phone screen, waiting for her to be ready. Then, getting in close, kneeling between her legs, snapping shot after shot as Lizzie holds her pussy open, taking instruction from Jessica about finger positioning, a little wider, raise your hips a little, oh yes, that's one beautiful twat you've got there. Photo after photo after photo. A veritable slideshow of this dripping wet cunt.

And Jessica being Jessica, she can't resist a quick taste, tossing the camera on the bed and slipping her tongue into Lizzie's inviting hole. It starts as a joke, but then soon neither of them are laughing, as Jessica continues to eat Lizzie out, her tongue working miracles on that wet hole that is just desperate to be filled. So Jessica slips in two fingers and sucks on Lizzie's clit as she moans in delight at this surprise pussy eating.

They continue until she's on the verge of cumming, but then Jessica pulls away. There's still work to be done, so she flips Lizzie over, ordering her to lift her ass, spread those cheeks. Lizzie, desperate for Jessica to finish the job she started, complies willingly, her hands reaching behind her, exposing her tight asshole, her face pressed into the bed.

Jessica goes back to work, taking photo after photo as Lizzie moans with desperation. Then, just as suddenly as before, Jessica buries her face in Lizzie's ass and starts eating out that sweet hole.

There she lies, moaning, desperate, as the blonde's tongue works its magic. But it still isn't enough, so Jessica slips her fingers back into Lizzie, finger fucking her whilst she eats that perfect ass, and Lizzie can't bear it. So he lets go of the cheeks and slips a hand underneath finding her clit and rubbing at it furiously, desperate for the stimulation. They continue and continue as the pleasure builds and builds and just when Lizzie thinks she can't take anymore, Jessica buries her tongue deep into her ass and Lizzie cums and cum and cums, the blonde bringing her to one orgasm after another, her anal work the key to this treasure trove of pleasure. She moans as she cums again and her body, exhausted, covered in the kind of sweat that only comes from a good fucking, goes limp.

At some point during this fantasy, I had dropped my phone, my hand reaching out to a nearby tree for support as I worked myself into a frenzy before shooting stream after stream of hot cum into the wilderness, reconnecting me with nature as I ejaculated, the sights and sounds and smells of the forest all around.

As I basked in my post-ejaculation reverie, I could hear the birds chirping and the rustle of leaves, feeling a sense of peace I had never before experienced.

Afterwards, I tucked myself away and found my phone in the leaves, before walking back to the car. Thankfully it was still recording, so hopefully, my "job" for Lizzie wasn't a total waste. It was less than a minute before I heard the voice and saw a woman walking through the woods with her dog. A little earlier and she would have been shocked by what she found in the woods today.

I later found out the trees were planted to stop the traffic noise from reaching the housing estate on the other side, the one to which I had practically walked reached, having gone so far beyond the treeline.