Minecraft Gamer Chases a Porn Star

But then just as she thought my silence judged her for the unsavory occupation, I said with as much honesty as I could muster what I really felt about it.

"I know. It's just a job."

Silence ensued and resolute, I dug myself out of the insensitive hole by leveling with her, by telling her about my crush on her, about my terrible job, how I drive insane amounts of time ducking my abusive uncle's wrath for minimal wage. How my rickety trailer is held up on one side by rotted plywood. How my car seems to have exploding tail lights. And once I sold the land, I told her my plan for the money.

It would be Idaho. I'd move to Idaho and buy a hundred-acre plot of land for fraction of the money and clear it and build a log cabin with my own two hands. Land was cheap and plentiful there. She seemed both fascinated by the idea and skeptical of homesteading. And not unnerved that I found my way into her graces.

She giggled, but not derisively. "Don't you need like permits for what you want to do? That sounds like it might take a long time, you know, a little hiccup in your fantasy."

That wasn't really my fantasy - I could not tell her what my actual sick fantasy was, which involved her coming with me - but I explained to her that there are counties in Idaho that don't have any building codes.

She asked incredulously, "You mean, they just let anyone build whatever they want?"

"Yeah, I mean, there are obviously safety hazards and warnings for people not to do stupid shit, but they don't police that sort of thing in most counties. It's a free country, and it's difficult to build in because the terrain is unforgivable. It's not like making a base in Minecraft, everything is hard, doing anything is back-breaking. There are no utilities. You have to dig up a latrine and a well far apart from each other. The winter cold is brutal, and there's a reason why they call it Bear Creek."

Mention of the place I researched made me think of my friend Bear and how we drifted apart, so I got lost in thought for a moment. I had actually researched this extensively, and as soon as I managed to figure out how to get satellite internet working over there without electricity, I'd quit my job and trade my car for an old four-wheel drive truck. My source of income would be a problem, but not as much as I first thought. Homesteading could work.

"But what's the draw toward it?" she asked.

I sighed. "Mostly, I'm tired of being behind a computer. And I'm a little tired of people. Not all of them, just most. Guess I just wanted a little break and to see the real world, make something of it. Feel what it's like to get real callouses, then come back and finish my degree."

Shirley teased, "Don't they have like crazy militiamen over there?" Of course, she wasn't serious about it because she broke into a sweet laugh that made me smile.

We graduated to snapchat, and she started sending me gradually indiscreet motivational pictures which I worshipped for ten allowed seconds at a time and burned into my memory while jerking to them. She started calling me a mountain man and it was adorable. And I was happy because she didn't shy away after finding out we didn't meet by chance. Hell, she even made jokes about me masturbating to her videos, as if she knew I already did. It was weird because she wasn't doing any of this for some kind of a P.R. stunt like some porn stars do, she was doing this very privately. She made me feel important and I didn't deserve it.

One evening I came home after work to find a truck in my yard and my dirtbag uncle loading my couch onto it.

"This was our mom's, and she wanted me to have it after Ethel died," he explained.

Noticing the broken front door lock, I was too tired to argue with him and just let him drive off with it. Jesus, that piece of shit couch was infused with mold and covered with crusty sperm and Connie's cream. The only reason why anyone would want it would be pathological. But now I knew that I couldn't wait anymore. It was time to list the property and skip the truck. My car would surely take me as far as Idaho even if I had to walk the last stretch. I didn't need internet, I needed to escape from my asshole uncle and the festering problems he created for me.

That night Minecraft didn't help. As soon as I signed on, I got hit with a barrage of private text threats from P-Peter. She talked to him as much as with me now, and she must've told him about my Idaho plans.

"Boy, you break that girl's heart, I'm gonna fucking break you, you hear me? I'll break you, you little dipshit."

So, I signed off right away and got motivated to contact a realtor instead of playing video games. Thanks, P-Peter.

The cops came and left after I told them it was a false alarm. Then Connie knocked on the door completely unexpectedly. She wore loose jeans and a sweatshirt this time, which was unlike her usual trampy self. Puzzled at the broken lock and my prowling uncle, she just came over to ask if everything was ok. Thanking her for this time, I told her not to call the cops if it happened again. I told her about Idaho. She expressed sincere dismay about the missing couch, "But where will you fuck me now?" Unfortunately, I didn't have a bed and I was planning to sleep on the floor tonight.

The realtor could wait until morning. I shut off the computer and just to be on the safe side, I unplugged the microphone too. While she got naked, I removed the arm rests from my computer chair and sat down on it. She got on top and rode me until I came, her loose tits bouncing in my face. The chair squeaked like a wounded animal, and Connie orgasmed twice before I did. I had to stabilize her and support her weight while she fucked me and the effort and strain distracted me. She looked sad. I wondered how light Shirley felt - she was shorter and more petite and toned by comparison. Connie didn't try to kiss me for once, she just stared me in the eyes and rode my cock like a banshee. She kissed me goodnight and left after dressing up.

Next morning I got an inflatable mattress to tide me over.

Within weeks two land deals were struck. Mom's land sold for more than I thought it would, and the land I bought in Idaho was nowhere near Bear Creek after all, or nowhere near being a hundred acres, but it was perfect. And it was mine. It was 23 acres at foot of a large hill - or rather a small mountain - surrounded by rolling hills and grassy plains, with a creek running through it. No one else lived nearby, and there wasn't even an official road leading to the property yet. A yet to be constructed state highway was supposedly on its way in the next decade or two, but not placed offensively in relation to the land I wanted. The lot was right by Yellowstone and it had timber I could cut down as soon as I watched YouTube videos on how to do that sort of thing.

This would not be a cakewalk, I knew. But I felt enthusiastic even about the hardship, and it was the right time of the year to set roots before the long winter. Things were thawing, and the land was warming. I'd have six months to build a shelter, plant a few tomatoes and watch them fail, chop firewood. Chicks were cheap and ate cheap feed, and they grew freakishly fast and I'd just have to get over being squeamish for my soups and grilled drumsticks. The property listing was up for a while so I lowballed the offer and my jaw dropped when they accepted half of what they were originally asking for.

When I told him, Bear was sad and said he'd wait for when I got back. It was touching, but we still had some weeks together. We played games like old times, him supporting me, me taking the lead. Just like with everything we did together. We laughed and made tasteless jokes.

"You mean you bought it without being out there?" Shirley was excited for me and yet sad because I was going off-grid. She found this adventure appealing in some ways, specifically approaching an unknown just like that.

She told me she'd miss me. Betraying my deepest fantasy, I replied with "You could come with me." She was quiet for a whole ominous minute and my heart skipped in terror.

That's when things went bad between us. We fell apart. In almost half a year of growing close, never once did we fight over anything, but in this particular moment. And I could not understand why it happened except that maybe she was selfish because I couldn't play video games with her anymore. No, I didn't matter to her. It was just a preemptive rejection.

"You know, I didn't even mind listening to you fuck some girl," she revealed overhearing me that one night. Damned gaming mic is super sensitive, and I cringed. But before I could even freak out about it, she managed to put things in perspective for me, "Sure, maybe I got a little jealous but who am I to talk. But to spend months or years smelling your shit stew inside a composting toilet, when we haven't even met? Are you for real?"

This was the first time I've seen her angry, and she tore into me for another minute. After the outburst she abruptly stopped talking to me everywhere. She didn't text me, she didn't snap me back, she didn't open my snaps, she stopped playing games we played, and stopped going on voice chat. It depressed me. My masturbation failed me a few times, going limp halfway through. I just wasn't in the mood. Finally, I removed her from my spare screen and was amazed when her images weren't burned into the monitor. Hopping on Minecraft, even P-Peter was subdued.

"Hey," he said.

Just "Hey." No "Hey dipshit," nothing but just a bland "Hey."

It depressed me further. Even my tormentor gave up on me. So, days into being shunned I gave up too, and angrily canceled my phone and shut down my computer for good. Or at least until I got to Idaho and figured out how to hook up solar panels. There'd be plenty to do in the next weeks and I didn't need fantasies to distract me anymore.

Connie knocked on the door and we both knew it was our goodbye fuck. She had seen me pack and get rid of things over the past few days. This time she dressed like a total goth hooker with fishnets and sluttiest shade of red lipstick and bluest eye shadow she could find at Walmart. Short leather skirt, dark tube top, fuck me boots. She knew I had a thing for cheap looking tramps. She got on her knees and smeared her lipstick with my cock, then tried to fuck her soft tits with it. She then guided me to the air mattress where she got on top and sat on my cock, fucking me until I almost came. God, she was so wet that night. "Not yet," she said when I warned her, and went back to blowing me. She alternated positions a few times, at times going to reverse cowgirl, and finally swallowed my sperm. She was good at sucking cock, and I wondered how many were in her mouth over the years. She was probably the real porn star. The real thing that men fantasied about but was in front of me the whole time. As we rested, for an instant I felt guilty thinking about her husband, but then I felt her stroke my cock back into life.

"Whose ass are you going to fuck after you leave me," she asked almost pitifully.

That meant she wanted it in her butt, and god, that's just what I now wanted. After getting my cock harder with her mouth, she laid down on her stomach and I got on top and slowly worked it in. We didn't even use lube this time, it was just perfect. At that moment sliding deep into her ass, I figured I would miss her. She was a good fuck, and an easy one which I came to under-appreciate. I kissed her neck and this time I wasn't fucking anyone in my head but my horny neighbor. Not a fantasy girl, just my cock in Connie's willing ass. Balls deep in my loving neighbor. I grabbed her tits and we made out as I fucked her. After I finished, she voided the sperm nosily in my toilet and kissed me goodbye on the lips, going home to hide her whorish outfit.

"Don't forget me sweetie," she said before leaving.

Tonight, I couldn't go back to sleep. I was facing some imminent lifestyle changes.

Another week went by and my preparation to leave escalated. I was going to skip my upcoming court appearance and that was okay. My uncle could go fuck himself. If they wanted to issue a bench warrant and fetch me from Idaho, that'd be fine by me. I bought a bunch of tools at an estate auction, and a well-used mini-excavator from my boss and had them shipped to a storage unit near my new lot. He was sad to see me go and charged me a pittance for the machine when I asked. Worried about breakdowns, he packed a spare set of hydraulic hoses and fluid with it, because that thing was old and unreliable.

With a bulldozer parked outside scheduled to demolish the place few days later, I figured why wait until morning, so I packed my clothes and grabbed my laptop and headed out. Leaving town got me feeling sappy and I cried a lone tear (alright, a few more than that) but I felt better about turning a new leaf. I hopped on 295 and headed south for a spell, planning to cut across middle of America and avoid snows up in the north. I wondered what Idaho would really be like. I'd miss Bear.

Ten minutes later, red and blue flashing lights behind me brought me back to reality. It was my dirtbag uncle or one of his cronies, pulling me over, I was sure of it because I wasn't speeding. God damn it, I didn't believe this. I pulled over, fighting back tears. I had failed.

"Going somewhere with my sister's car?" my uncle asked me as he walked up to the window. He was a bastard.

Damn it all. Just as I was about to bolt, about to make my escape, jaws of defeat bit my ankles and were going to sink all my plans. How did he find out about the sale? Was I too careless getting that bulldozer in place so soon? How did he know I'd be here tonight anyway?

"Aren't you just a bailiff," I asked angrily, "are you even allowed to pull people over?" My mouth tasted like years of defeat and subjugation.

Just then to show me how beaten down I was, several other cop cars showed up behind us, lights flashing and sirens blazing. God damn it, just before I skipped town, the fucking hammer had to come down on me. My feet and knuckles felt cold.

Voice over a megaphone came on and yelled, "Get your hands up, get down on the ground." It was scary to imagine what my dirtbag uncle told the cops to bring this on, but I didn't make any sudden moves. Shaking, I put my hands up out through the window when I heard the megaphone tell me to stop.

"Driver, stay in the vehicle. You, get down on the ground, dipshit." The voice sounded eerily familiar.

"What the hell are you doing?" my uncle demanded, "I'm in middle of a fuckin' traffic stop." He looked very confused. In that horrific moment, I belatedly realized they were there for him, not me. Seeing it in my rear-view mirror, several officers positioned themselves nearby holding what looked like machine guns.

"Get your hands up in the air and get down on the ground, dipshit. Do not touch your holster."

Horrified, I watched my uncle comply and then saw a mountain of man with a missing eye and a huge scar over his face disarm and handcuff him. My uncle was indignant and screaming at this point, demanding he be released. He was almost frothing at the mouth. "I work for the Sheriff's department!" Few other officers in tactical gear surrounded the scene and directed traffic around it. The scarred man looked at the confiscated service weapon and with glee told my uncle how he was in deep shit.

"This is federal property, dipshit. You can't bring a loaded weapon here."

My uncle was furious, "What do you mean federal property, this is the side of the road. And I'm a cop."

"The shoulder is the federal property, dipshit. Didn't you see the NSA sign few miles back? Even state troopers know better than to pull someone over here."

For once, my uncle was at a loss for words. The scarred officer's nameplate read "Pitchford, Peter."

Oh my god, this was P-Peter. And his Minecraft skin matched his appearance almost perfectly. Crude tattoos on his arms, missing eye. Horrific scar. Gravelly voice. My universes collapsed, and I wasn't sure if I was awake. Was I dreaming this? The nasty minecrafter who always yelled at me had just saved me from my asshole uncle? My hands still shook, and I felt very uncertain about my future. Hell, I felt as equally uncertain about my past.

The man strolled casually up to my window and grinned. He said, "License and registration, dipshit."

"P .. . Peter?" I stammered in great confusion.

"Just kidding, I know who you are."

"Peter, is that really you? But how?"

"I didn't do it for you, dum-dum. You didn't answer your phone, dipshit. So she got worried."

"But how did you know where I'd be?" I marveled, still in a cloud of confused thoughts. She was worried about me?

"Did you think I wouldn't watch out for Cat? Make sure you weren't some kind of a predatory stalker?"

"Cat?" I wondered out loud. I couldn't even articulate all the questions I had, such as ones surrounding his apparent abuse of power, ... even though they appeared to be used in my favor this time. But God, he was a good sentry- he spotted me the moment I showed up at the scene trying to befriend her, and he just knew what I was up to. His sense of perception was scary.

"Yeah, that's her real name, dipshit. Cat. She tried calling you a hundred times but the number was already recycled. I had to pull strings to check on your dumb ass. Your stripper neighbor was concerned and told me about your dick uncle looking around for you as if you stole his cookie. Now get your shit and lets go, we have a timetable to keep. We'll leave this beauty for someone else to eat."

Realization that months ago he knew who I was, where I lived and what I drove chilled my spine to the core and I just stared at him. He sighed, opened the rear door, grabbed all my bags with one hand and then carried them off to his cruiser. And of course, all while I imagined the terror projected by this brute of a man force-feeding car parts to his victims. If he hadn't done it before, he sure was imaginative.

"But how did you know where I'd be," I demanded half-heartedly.

"C'mon champ, we gotta go," he said patiently this time. Not actually wanting to know the answer, I followed him and he opened the passenger side door and waited for me to get in. After closing my door, he walked around and got in as I buckled in. Ignoring his own seat belt, he drove off without so much as checking his blind spots. Police lights flashing, he froze the speedometer needle in the upright position and I didn't even have time to get terrified about how carelessly he ignored the laws of physics. Cars parted out of our way, and they didn't have to because he was using the shoulders more so than the lanes. Momentarily I thought about what would happen to my abandoned car and then decided I didn't care. My hands stopped shaking.

Finally, I blurted out, "Why do they call you stuttering Peter?"

"It's because I make other people stutter."

That made more sense than it ever should have, because he was a scary man even over video games. And in person he seemed downright terrifying even without the gnarly scar on his face and a missing eye.

"How do you know Sh. .. Cat?"

He sighed and told me the full story. Years ago, he was recovering from his injuries in a lonely tent halfway across the world. His wife had just left him and all he had was nothing anymore. he was contemplating leaving the service and drinking all the booze he could get his hands on, like some times before. The plan sounded more and more real until a medic suggested he try video games.

Of all the things that they didn't have over there, they had generators, satellite internet and ample bandwidth, and to his amazement he found Minecraft serene. Meditative. Longer he played, straighter his thoughts got. Sometimes he'd dream in blocks.