My Last Job

Chapter 1: This looks like a good and normal life, or "Swim swim swim" thought the whale.

So I'm not going to recite my whole life story here. Suffice it to say I'm a fuck up. Ok well, I'll back up a bit and just give you a brief overview. I wanted to be a musician when I was younger, I practiced a lot and focused on it quite a bit but failed monumentally because a mix of I wasn't as good as I thought and I had no social skills, among other things. A little later I became interested in religion and wanted to pursue that but that has its own hurdles, at least in the more "official", let's say, spheres. Maybe I'm more Rasputin than Padre Pio, but I digress.

So yeah, I've never had any...what's the word? Oh yeah, success. I'm a monumental failure, at least in the objective, materialist sense. So I never lasted very long at jobs, or had all that many jobs, really. This brings us to the beginning, which is a fun place to start because it's where all the gooey, humiliating goodness begins.

Through the help of my Father, some improvements in lifestyle/social skill on my part, and the grace of God, I obtained a job. I worked in a grocery store as a clerk. I know what you're thinking, it wasn't as glamorous as it sounds though. I stocked shelves, received orders, helped customers, cleaned up messes (including my own sometimes) and the like. I think I did a decent job, being somewhat of a compulsive person. But the tasks of the job weren't really going to be the problem.

Chapter 2: Here come the girls, or Oh fuck I'm in trouble

(I'm going to change girls' names here of course) So my little life is going along well, I've gotten over the initial anxiety of this new responsibility and aside from a few standard adjustments I'm, well, just doing my job. Me being me, this involves a good deal of following female customers around and going to the bathroom to offer up a glistening sacrifice to the Goddesses, but you know, it's not getting in the way too much (Everyone knew, obviously, I mean, there are cameras and mirrors all over the place in a modern store like this) but yeah that just made it more exciting and who cares, everyone likes me, as I'm a hard worker and nice guy who isn't at all a weird creepy pervert, right?

Jenna was the bosses' (my bosses were a husband and wife) daughter, and my first, uhh, problem. She was all of 19 years old, and...my Lord. Beautiful blonde hair, face like a porcelain doll, sweet little body, and the attitude of a girl who was aware of all this. Looked like she figured she was queen of the world, above anything. And when you're the bosses' daughter and you look like that, I suppose you are. She was a cashier and as such she wore a uniform, but one day she came into the store to see her parents on her day off in white jeans that were, and I cannot stress this enough, absolutely just painted on. I was following her around like a lost, horny puppy, until I saw Jake, my boss looking over at me from another angle. Jake is about 6'4'' and 300lbs or so. I am decidedly not in this weight class or social status of owner. So being little clerk monkey, I retired to the bathroom to deal with the thought of Jenna's ass which for all intents and purposes she was basically just showing everyone. I don't think I need to tell you nothing ever happened with Jenna outside of my imagination. A girl like that doesn't have much time for a loser like me. Which makes her all the more gorgeous. I used to pray that I'd get to see her bend over, and sometimes God would grant me my request, and...wow.

Maida was a Muslim girl, 18. Now Maida knew. You doubt me? She knew I tell you! I mean when a girl reluctantly, briefly, looks in your eyes with disgust every time she sees you and she's just telepathically transmitting: "Ugggh, pervert" She was very shy and had trouble communicating with customers, being from Tunisia until recently coming to the West. So sometimes she'd be at the checkout and she'd be talking with a customer demanding this or that and she'd give a panicked look over in my direction "Help me!" and I would think "Oh yeah, now I'm useful, now I'm worth looking at, huh?" but honestly I loved helping her anyway, so I'd always rush over. She had a very pretty face couched in a niqab with pouty lips and these big eyes that looked like they belonged on an anime character. She also had a big ass I'm pretty sure I actually literally drooled over in public a few times. I used to time my walks around the store so I'd wind up behind her, and she'd be pulling at her top trying to get it down over her swaying fat buttocks. I'd be thinking: "You can't cover buns like that up that easily!"

Allahu akbar, indeed.

I don't think I need to tell you nothing ever happened with Maida either. I also don't think I need to tell you I spent a fair bit of time in the bathroom pumping my big, often floppy and limp, leaky cock trying to picture her nude, curvy, brown bod in there with me. And then thinking: "Could I even get it up to fuck her anyway?" Here's a short transcript:

"HHHHHHNNNNnnnn nngngngngnnnnnng ohfuckohfuckohfuckoh Godohfuckthatslut i wannaseehernudeohfuck AHHHHHH fuckfuckfuckyouslutahhhhhh"

Eloquent, huh? Yeah, several prestigious publications have contacted me, but I thought better to write for you, dear reader. You're welcome.

I won't describe all the girls at length, thinking it better to instead go ahead with the story and get to my tantalizingly embarrassing downfall. Suffice it to say I lusted over a lot of women there, and I hope God blesses them all.

Chapter 3: Success! Or You haven't met the likes of a loser like me yet, honey.

As the days go by, I grow in confidence and this is all very healthy and normal and great, at least from my warped point of view. I have now taken to just brazenly flirting with female coworkers who are open to it. Among these chiefly are three: Genevieve, a 22 year old who is just P-E-R-F-E-C-T for me, that is to say she has a great body, is kind of dumb, and really, really likes me (I would later find out that she was always talking about me to other coworkers and that she fantasized about me) Chantelle, 29, a dumpy but sweet little redhead who also took to me, but in this case was just trying to get back at her boyfriend for cheating, more on that later. And Sarissa, late 20's, a brickhouse I would have (tried to anyway) ridden like I'd stolen her if I didn't screw everything up instead of actually screwing these girls like a functional horndog. I got a lot of body language from her seeming to indicate she liked me, but who knows. She had a boyfriend too, so I may have just been kidding myself there.

Things are going really well though. I'm working, my wife is happy with me because I'm bringing in money, my bosses are happy with me because I'm a hard worker, I get to perv all these girls while at work, and now it looks like I might even get a girlfriend or two, or three out of the deal! What could possibly go wrong? Chantelle is writing me dirty notes at work saying she wants to get together, Genevieve was messaging me on social media and we were becoming good friends, and I got along great with Sarissa as well. Everything's progressing wonderfully, I mean I could fucking smell the estrogen coming off these sluts when they were talking to me. So, the end, right? This is where I fuck all these girls off into the sunset and have a great life, fun, happy life, right?

Chapter 4: DiD I fOrGeT tO mEnTiOn I'M aN aLcOhOLiC? Or "Pride goeth before destruction"

Look, this isn't a PSA, and I'm not trying to make a big deal about this part, but it's integral to the story. I happen to be an alcoholic who is (usually) abstinent from drinking, so it's not much of an issue. But with the stress of the job, and the excitement of these, shall we say, prospects, I let my guard down, wanting to relax a bit and had a few drinks on a couple of occasions and juST OH GOD OH FUCK WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS WON'T WORK!!

So yeah, it snowballed as an alcoholic's drinking is want to do, and started causing problems. At first I had a few beers and it wasn't that big of a deal, but then one night I drank too much, and was just off my rocker with Genevieve on messenger, getting way too serious about how I wanted a life with her and to have a family with her and all that. And this girl did NOT want that with me. She said she didn't even want me after she found out I was married but I know she was lying but anyway. But yeah, this wasn't a girl at the "Settle down and get married" portion of her life, certainly not with a married man almost 20 years her senior. I figured I could juggle (jiggle?) her and my wife and maybe even have this polygamist thing going (Hey, Moses did it) and maybe my wife would even be happy because we don't have kids so maybe she could by proxy. But women, what ya gonna do, huh? No vision, I tells ya.

So back to the story, I was getting worse and worse, going into work really hungover. Side note, I get really horny when I'm hungover for some reason, so this led to a lot of situations where I was really going nuts for all these females flouncing around. I LOVE YOGA PANTS THANK YOU GOD FOR YOGA PANTS. Ok there got that out of my system. My boss called me into his office one day to warn me against not going home early because I was hungover (I had left early the day before) but I felt like there was an underlying message that he knew what I was doing, mentioning how "People talk" and all that. Looking back it's kind of stupid, of course he knew, they all knew. Fuck that's hot.

Chantelle was trying to make moves toward me, trying to get together. But by that point I was enjoying sitting in my kitchen alone all night, masturbating, getting drunk and screwing things up with Genevieve. As an added bonus, her (Chantelle's) boyfriend was now writing me with threats because he was seeing the messages and he apparently didn't get the eroticism of another guy potentially being with his girlfriend. Different strokes, I guess. I didn't want a problem with this guy, but being drunk all the time I started threatening him back. I'm just fucking creating hell at this point.

This is where I'm really starting to struggle through the muck and the mire. Genevieve is starting to ignore me, Chantelle is trying but at the same time now I'm worried this guy is going to show up and try to kill me or something so it's not like we can go out on a date or something, and I'm just out of shape mentally, spiritually and physically so I can't move forward positively anyway.

Chapter 5: Interlude in gehenna

We now have a bigger problem on our hands, friends: Alcohol withdrawals. I wouldn't recommend it. I ran out of booze one evening and it was a Sunday, so getting home late from work I have nothing to drink, and I'd been drinking enough to trigger it, so I finally go to bed after much distressing and unhappiness.

I close my eyes and start to get visuals. I can see shapes at first, but as I start to drift off these become scenes. Scenes of torture and general carnage and, look guys, it's just bad juju, ok? Like things are not going fantastically for your beloved author at this point. I had a dream (or psychotic break?) where a friend from my childhood was being castrated while his nails were being removed, I'll leave it at that.

Because fuck this shit, I'm going to the hospital.

Chapter 6: Respite in limbo, Or thank you for reading through that it gets better.

So I go to the emergency room, and get some valium which helps a great deal with the wd's and feel better for awhile. I take a week off work. A few days later I get really restless, start drinking again, quit my job and, well, see chapter 5

Because fuck this shit, I'm going to detox

Chapter 7: Look, I'm realizing this story isn't all that sexy at this point. I hope you like it, but I'm just trying to write what actually happened.

I'm off to detox, but Before going, I decide to do damage control because things are getting bad regarding Chantelle's bf and Genevieve and all that. So I write a letter to my wife telling her everything I can think of about me. All the bad, and some good. I don't hold back. I mean like stuff I can't write here. Nothing illegal per se, but yeah, it gets dark and weird. So now she knows the depths of what kind of pervert I am, and all that. She's still here as I write this, so thank God for that. There's actually a silver lining here too, is that it actually helped me greatly to do that as you'll see.

In detox, the wd's are starting to subside, so I'm now horny as anything, because I hadn't been tending to it when I was really messed up, and now I see all these hot nurses walking around and...Oh my God I can't help it, there's a camera in the room...but they're all so pretty and curvy, hnnnnnngggg...I must have cum about three times in an hour, I just couldn't stop. I kept seeing these jiggly pussies going by and I was just going insane with lust. I smelled like and was sticky with sperm, just being a complete perv jerking off while I knew they could see me. Finally a nurse came in and nicely asked if I'd like to walk around some in the hallways since I seemed to be feeling better which I suppose is a polite way of saying: "Look, could you stop jerking off you fucking sex monster? We can see you"

Uhh, excuse me a moment, that memory...

*Throwing away kleenex* Anyway, while I was in detox, Chantelle's bf went and told Genevieve some negative things I'd said about her while I was drunk (fucking alcohol) and Chantelle actually HELPED him in that, by pointing out who Genevieve was to him, as he didn't know her and wanted to get back at me for...not...fucking...his gf I guess? Maybe I was better off with none of this working out, after all, huh? Not particularly pleased by all this, Genevieve called my wife and told her all about the situation in as unflattering (as if it could be flattering) a light as possible. She closed the call (voice message which I heard) by calling me a psycho asshole, which still makes me leak a little when I think about it.

Hey, I never said I wasn't the bad guy in all this, that's up to you to decipher for yourself.

But if you remember the letter I'd written to my wife, well, it kind of took any leverage away to cause a problem. I mean my wife now knows quite startling things about me, you think she cares that some slut said I tried to come on to her? This whole episode was all in the letter anyway, so yeah, none of this was news to her.

Chapter 8: All apologies, Or Falling through the air without a parachute but the good news is there is no ground

I make peace with Chantelle's bf. He originally tells me he fucked my wife, probably not aware this turned me on. I doubt it happened. Who knows, I like to think it did. I start sending him links to porn movies I like because I figure we could be jerking buddies or something. He says I'm weird and doesn't know what to make of me. Good enough for me. I cease talking to Chantelle because well, hopefully that's obvious.

I tell my wife I'll also stop talking to Genevieve, which I do. But beforehand I write her an absolutely pathetic letter to her, apologizing for all the bad I did and how she's such a beautiful and great girl and how I understand her for not wanting to be with me and all that, God, I felt like such a loser. I still pull the letter up sometimes and I start to leak as soon as I start reading it. She blocked me. I came all over myself.

I wrote a message to Sarissa online. She responded to "Please not message her", presumably after hearing about all this from Genevieve. I came all over myself again.

Chapter 9: Acceptance

So there you have it. I got a job, had several girls I probably could have fucked, and managed to ruin it all like an orgasm when you don't want to let it all out so that you'll stay horny after. So frustrating...and exhilarating. I mean, what kind of loser manages to get himself in that much trouble and turmoil and not get a single damn thing out of it? All I did was masturbate all the time while not even reaping the results of all the work I put in.

And I wouldn't change a damn thing.

Chapter 10: Conclusion

I am quite happy now. I've readjusted myself vis-a-vis the whole not drinking thing and just have fun and relaxation in other ways. I am rebuilding my situation. I have other opportunities as I did do a good job over there insanity notwithstanding. I get along great with my wife, she knows what I am. I know what I am. They all know what I am. God knows what I am.

I want to thank you for reading all this, I really appreciate it. I hope it has brought you some excitement, or laughs, or comfort or any mixture therein. I am praying for you. God bless you.