Butt Coin

Warning!!!

This story takes place beyond space and time in a realm known as "Fiction" where all penises are bigger than average, there are no STD/STIs, and people have sex for a multitude of reasons that you might not agree with.

Also, this story contains references to mathematics. If you are worried that this may hinder your attempts to get off, you have been warned.

Enjoy!

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I have this crazy Swedish friend name Sven that lives in the same neighbourhood of London as me. He is big into tech and always has a new crazy business scheme he's chasing. Every time we go out, he gets me drunk, and talks me into investing way too much money into his schemes. I almost always lose money, but the ride is always fun.

Like a couple years ago Sven came up with an automatic dog walking business that used drones. As usual, he got me drunk and I invested £35,000, but I liked the idea. We had lots of people, including several celebrities, who wanted to use our services, and almost all of them were posting videos of it online, which caused us to go viral. Within days we had more customers than we knew what to do with and several companies looking to by us out. Then there was the incident with the pet chihuahua of this movie star, who we believe got ran over by a car or maybe a train. It was a tough way to learn that our bots' AI programming couldn't tell the difference between an alive dog and one that wasn't. We went bankrupt within a week.

After that, I swore I would be much more careful when it came to investing in Sven's crazy schemes, but this strategy too had its downsides. Like last year Sven tried talking me into investing in another crazy scheme that involved chat bots and scanning the brains of Asian sex workers. I wasn't sure what he wanted to do was even legal, so I stayed sober and only invested £1000 into the scheme. Three months went by, and I hadn't heard from Sven, so I just assumed all was lost as usual. Then, out of the blue, Sven showed up in a Bently at my work and handed me a check for £50,000. He said it was for my share in the business, and he told me he was off to South America to retire with his millions he just earned from selling the business to a collective of horny Japanese businessmen.

In fact, I hadn't heard anything from Sven in nearly a year, when this morning I received a text from him. He said he had gotten back into London last month and that he had a new scheme he wanted to tell me about over drinks.

We agreed to meet in this dive bar that Sven loves, after I got off work. It was nearly six when I arrived, still in my work suit. Straight away I found Sven standing near the bar talking to a group of dirty construction workers with confused looks on their faces.

"Marty!" Sven shouted as he saw me approach. He looked like he had been horribly sun burned recently, but his eyes were as blue and his teeth as white as ever. He quickly pulled out a stack of cards out of his pocket and began to pass them out to the construction workers. Then he signalled the bar tender who had been watching him talk to the construction workers with the same confused look on her face. "Another drink for me and one for all of my friends," he smiled and slapped one of the construction workers on their shoulder.

"Do I dare ask what scheme you're pushing now?" I laughed as I gave Sven a hug.

"This is not a scheme, as you are always calling them," Sven said in his near perfect English. "This is my best idea yet!"

"I'm going to need a drink for this," I laughed as I shook my head.

"Me too," smiled Sven as he signalled to the bar tender to pour me one as well. Then he ushered me to a nearby table that he had claimed as his own.

"Where have you been?" I demanded. "And what happed to your face?"

"South America!" he said with a wave of his hand as if it explained away both questions.

The bartender slapped down two, blood red Negronis down in front of us, and before I had time to look up, Sven had placed a £50 note into the woman's hand.

"Seriously, where the hell have you been," I demanded as I took my first sip of the night.

"Are you sure? It's a long story," he demurred. "Tell me about your year first."

I waved my hand for him to get on with his story.

"So do you remember last year and that project I asked you to invest in?" Sven asked.

"The one that earn 50 to 1. Yes," I said sourly.

"So, after I sold the business, paid off all my debts, and bought my mother a summer home in Alicante, I decided to take my last several million Pounds Sterling and retire to South America."

I groaned to myself.

"For months," Sven continued, "I just travelled around and partied with the most beautiful women in the world. When I wanted to go surfing, I flew to Chile. When I wanted to learn to dance the Tango, I went to Buenos Aires. When I wanted to do cocaine, I went to Colombia. You know, all the tourist stuff. Eventually I ended up in Brazil. The place was magical. There I found my true home. Also, while in Brazil, I had a lot of sex. I had sex with young women, old women, hairy women and their husbands too. I did it all. I didn't care. It was beautiful."

"Then one day while out exploring the Amazon, I made friends with a troop of topless Brazilian dancers who travelled from small town to small town, putting on shows for the local cowboys, miners, secondary schools, and anyone else who wanted to see their big titties. At that time, they were in desperate need of an oil boy, for their last one had just got bitten by a deadly spider."

"Oil boy?" I tried not to laugh.

"Oil boy is an incredibly important role, so don't laugh," Sven tried to say with a serious face. "I had to makes sure that all the women were always properly oiled up for their big shows. Plus, it was a tough job, for a lot of the women had very big breast. Especially this beautiful woman named Titiana. She had the biggest, most beautifully tanned breast, with the biggest nipples I had ever seen."

"Anyways, after about a month of traveling with the women, the tour found itself deep in the jungle at a mining camp very near Titiana's grandmother's homestead. After that night's show--and after Titiana and I made love--Titiana told me that her grandmother was a jungle witch who specialized in the forbidden Ayahuasca tea ceremony," said Sven in a hushed voice.

"The next night after the show, me, Titiana and several of the other women made our way to Titiana's grandmother's homestead. The place was little more than a hut built around tiny Earthen sweat lodge. The women stripped me bare, and this time they oiled me up from head to toe. Then they took me to the sweat lodge where Titiana's grandmother made me drink the sacred Ayahuasca tea while all the women chanted and danced naked around me and the fire." Sven's eyes went wide and glassy as he told the story, until suddenly he came back to reality and looked at me. "Have you ever taken part in the forbidden Ayahuasca tea ceremony and experienced ego death?" he asked with wide eyes.

"No. I can't say I have ever experience ego death, but I think the spa down the street now does an afternoon Ayahuasca tea ceremony," I offered.

"It was amazing," Sven's eyes glazed over again as he began to wave his hands wildly in the air above his head. "At the moment, I was one with the universe. I no longer just saw the stars; I was the starts. I was the trees. I was the sky. I was the earth," Sven paused for the longest time as he continued to wave his hands in the air. "The next thing I know I woke up two weeks later, naked on a great flat sacrificial rock high up in the Peruvian Andes," Sven casually threw out before he drained his Negroni and waved for two more.

"Are you sure they didn't harvest your organs. Do still have your kidneys?" I asked.

"Yes. I still have all three," Sven laughed before he reached over and took my drink.

"Show me your back," I demanded.

Sven turned around and pulled up his shirt. There weren't any big nasty surgical scars which made me feel better. "How did you end up in Peru?"

"Don't know, but I was badly sunburnt everywhere when I woke up. Oh, and there were a trio of condors circling above waiting for me to die," Sven smiled.

"Shit," I said as the bar tender dropped another two Negronis down in front of us.

"I thought for sure that I was dead, but then out of nowhere came this older indigenous woman. She gave me some water and tied me to the back of her lama. When I came too again, we were in this ancient rock village high up in the Peruvian Andes that was populated only by older women. I tried to speak to them in my broken Spanish, but they only spoke one of the local Incan dialects."

"Over the next few weeks, they nursed me back to health. At first, they didn't know what to make of me, but I slowly began to win their trust by doing odd jobs around the village. I planted crops. I cleaned the canals. I did everything they asked of me. Then one night, the village elder, this strong native woman, with a strong nose, and long silver hair whose name I was never told, came to me as I slept."

"What did she want?" I gulped.

"That night she taught me an ancient secret technique to make anal love, passed down from the Incas themselves."

"What?" I demanded, worried that I didn't hear him correctly.

"I thought the forbidden Ayahuasca tea ceremony had change me before, but this was so much more. A thousand times more. This changed me completely as a person," Sven stopped to get a drink. "Over time, all of the women in the village made their way to me at night where we each practiced the sacred ancient Incan anal techniques taught to me by the village elder...."

"What's the technique?" I interrupted him to ask.

"I can't tell you. It's a secret," said Sven.

"Come on," I teased him.

"No. If I do the ancient Inca god Virachocha will transform into a great condor and eat my liver for all of eternity," Sven answered in the same way he would have if I had asked him what the time was.

"Oh, of course," I responded.

"Anyways," Sven continued. "Night after night, the women of the village and I made sweet anal love. Then one night, after a particularly intense session with the very woman who had rescued me, I had a vision. A great vision. A vision of what my mission in life would be," Sven's eyes went wide, and his voice trailed off.

Sven was silent longer than I had ever seen him before. "Well?" I eventually asked.

"My mission in life is to combine my two great loves," Sven said with the sincerity of a madman.

"I'm guessing it's not your mother and reading," I joked as I prepared myself.

"No! My two greatest passions are Anal Sex and Crypto."

"What the fuck man?" I snorted as some of my drink flew out my nose.

"Here me out," he said calmly. "What if we replace all the time and energy that goes into mining crypto currencies with something a lot more human and pleasurable?"

"Oh god, you are going to say it," I cringed as I put my head in my hands.

"We replace all crypto mining with anal sex," Sven said defiantly. "And we'll call it, 'Butt Coin!'"

Over the next several drinks, Sven started to explain the details of his most outlandish scheme to date.

"How are the coins made?" I asked.

"Easy," smiled Sven, the technical genius. "Both participants will have an app on their phones that they will need to open before the act starts. We'll probably need to throw in some consent waivers here where both parties can't sue each other and us. Then we will need them to film their butt fucking."

"It's filmed? Oh god! Why?" I asked in disbelief.

"For three reasons," Sven said sounding a lot like a university professor about to explain how lab equipment works. "One, that is how the NFT will be made. From the two videos and other meta data we will pull from their apps and phones, we can stitch together a wholly unique non-fudgeable token--NFT--that can never be copied. Two. They must film the act for security reasons. We don't want our users faking butt stuff. We can't have a boiler room in India somewhere full of phones tied together, pretending to do each other in the arse in order to mine Butt Coins!" Sven playfully slammed his fist on the table to emphasize his point.

"What about a boiler room full of Indians just doing each other in the arse to mine Butt Coin?" I asked.

"Well, that might be fine as long as they film it."

"What's the third reason for filming it," I reminded him.

"Oh, I thought it would be fun to give each Butt Coin its own unique icon from the footage taken while they were fucking," he grinned. "In fact, I have come up with some examples if you want to take a look," he asked as he grabbed for his phone on the table.

"No. No. I'm good," I reached out and stopped him from starting to show me any anal sex icons while we sat in the crowded pub. "Won't it take forever to build an app that will do something like that?"

"No. I cannibalized most of the code from another idea I had some time ago," said Sven. "I've already started alpha testing the app and hope to move to beta testing very soon."

"Found any bugs so far?" I asked.

"Not in the code no. But the biggest problem I see with Butt Coin, is that we will make too many of them," said Sven.

"How is too many Butt Coins a problem?" I asked, mad at myself for using the coin's name and therefore making it just that much more real.

"Okay," he slipped back into professor mode. "How many Bitcoins are there in the world?"

"I don't know. Billions?" I guess.

"No," Sven said emphatically. "If there were billions, then Bitcoin would not be rare. No. There can only be 21 million Bitcoins in the world, ever. This makes it rare!" Sven's eyes gleamed.

"I thought there was more." I admitted.

"No. Its hardwired into the code," Sven took a drink. "We could set the limit of Butt Coins to 21 million too, but I think this number is too low."

"What were you thinking?"

"I'm not sure," Sven pondered the problem. "My gut--and my cock--tells me that we should not set an artificial limit on the number of Butt Coins people can make through proper fucking."

"But that quickly becomes one of those 'tragedy of the commons' problems," I said, annoyed at myself, because I was becoming interested in the problem. "If you let people make as many Butt Coins as they want, they won't be rare anymore, and no one will want them." I reached for my phone and pulled up the calculator. "For example, if you had a man and a woman and they had anal sex only once a day, every day for the whole year, it would only take them 57,000 years to reach 21 million Butt Coins."

"57,000 years is a long time," Sven joked.

"But for enough money, and with access to the internet, it wouldn't be hard to find 57,000 couples willing to earn some Butt Coins, and quickly we blow through the theoretical 21 million Butt Coin cap," I felt my cheeks flush--like when I argued with business clients at work--and I liked it.

"In order to keep Butt Coin rare, I think we need to cap who can make coins," said Sven. "I think we must limit coin production to solely between men and women."

"That's going to be controversial," I winced a little at the thought of the blowback from the LGBT community. "No gay sex at all?"

"I worry that gay men, will make too many Butt Coins. Like in Brazill, my friend Titiana--the one with the really, big tits I told you about--took me to an underground sex club where we had dinner and watched football supporters from Rio gangbang football supporters from Sau Paulo."

"What?" I shook my head for a second, trying to comprehend what he just said.

"The food was good, and the drinks were cold," Sven offered this like it somehow explained everything. "Anyhow, there were two squads, and each had 23 men. You know, the same number as a whole football team. The team from Rio won some big match, so they got to gangbang the supporters from Sau Paulo."

Sven paused a took a drink, "But this got me thinking. If each man from the winning squad had butt sex with all the other men on the other squad, that is 23 times 23, or 529 Butt Coins generated. Then if they switched and the losing team fucked the winning team in reverse, that's now 1058 Butt Coins. Then what happens if they go back for seconds and thirds? We could quickly be looking at 2000 Butt Coins being generated in a single underground gay orgy. Butt Coin would blow through the 21 million Butt Coin limit in no time," Sven said a little exasperated.

"So, we must limit coin generation to only men and women?" I gently asked while Sven calmed down for a second.

"Yes," said Sven while he caught his breath.

"But what's to stop a horny couple, or a single woman and a bunch of men from just having butt sex ten times a day for a whole year?" I asked. "That would add up quickly too."

"Besides her butt hole falling out?" Sven snorted, "I am afraid, not much. We would need to limit the numbers of Butt Coins made even more. I think we should limit the number of coins a couple can make together to only one."

"Whoa," I sat back in my seat and thought about his proposal. "So, let's say my girlfriend and I decided to do the dirty and make a Butt Coin. Then, after we make that, one, single coin, we are done. We cannot make any more coins together."

"Yes."

"But if my girlfriend and I absolutely wanted to make more coins, we would need to find a different guy to fuck my girlfriend in her butt?"

"Yes," smiled Sven. "Also, I want Butt Coin to have a lasting positive effect on the women who makes the coins."

"What?" I shot back, "Coercing them to have anal sex isn't enough?"

"I was thinking of placing a 10% tax each time a Butt Coin is traded. 1% will go back to the exchange to cover our costs, overheads, and of course our profits. Whereas the remaining 9% will go back to the woman who made the original coin."

I stopped mid drink to think about the ramifications of the tax. "Crypto bros aren't going to like a tax."

"So?" Sven shrugged his shoulder.

"And the woman who, eh," I struggled for the right word to use, "made the coin gets 9% of its value in perpetuity?" I tried to do the math in my head at what the numbers would look like, but I was already too drunk. So, I just asked Sven because I knew that he already had done them. "Tell me the math."

Sven grinned like a school kid who just got called on by his favourite teacher to talk about his favourite subject.

"Let's say you bring together a man and woman to make a Butt Coin. Through our platform, the man pays a nominal £100 to make the coin. After they have butt sex, the full £100 is given to the woman and the man gets one Butt Coin. Now later the man decides to trade his one Butt Coin for £100 on the exchange I am building. He, or maybe whoever buys the coin, will need to pay a tax of £10, of which £1 will come to us at the exchange and the remaining £9 will go back to the woman who made the Butt Coin."

"I get that, but what happens if the Butt Coin, trades 100 times?" I asked as I leaned in closer.

"We would make £100 from the tax, and the woman would make £900," Sven said with a smile.

"What if...," I caught myself before I got excited, for this was how Sven always got me. I took another sip of my drink while I tried not to think of the numbers. "Fuck. What if, instead of trading at £100, our Butt Coins start trading anywhere near what Bitcoin is going for?"

"Right now, Bitcoin is trading for around £20,000 a coin. At that price a single coin traded one hundred times would earn us £20,000, and earn the woman who made the coin £180,000," Sven smiled.

"Oh my god," I gasped and fell back into my chair.

From there the rest of the night was a blur. By then, I had already drunk too much, but I think the high of thinking we were on to something was what really did me in.