The Blowjob Chronicles Ep. 01

Hey Dave,

It's me. Phil Dunn. Remember me?

I haven't had access to a functioning computer in two months, but now that the problem has been temporarily fixed, I've decided to reestablish communication. It's been six months since my last email. I just hope you haven't changed the address; otherwise this is all a big waste of time.

I've been coping pretty well since the divorce. I moved into a small apartment three blocks from my old place. I waste my morning and afternoon hours working full time at Best Buy, and work the night shift at UPS unloading trucks. On the weekends, I can do anything my heart desires.

I don't really need two jobs, but without Amber around, time moves slower.

Speaking of my lovely ex-wife, she moved to Ohio a few months ago. She's engaged, and last I heard, happily pregnant. She found my replacement two weeks after the separation. I hope she gives birth to a two-headed monstrosity. I hope an alien creature with hundreds of razor sharps horns tears from her-

As you can tell, I'm completely over the failed marriage, but I still hope my replacement gets squashed by a falling piano.

Divorce can't stop a man from dreaming. She took the good television, the microwave, the DVD player, and all the DVDs. What the hell does she need with 800 DVDs? While I was buying them, she did nothing but complain that I was squandering our money, but once she hits the road, she wants them all. But I still have my dreams.

Like countless people have advised, I moved on. I started a new DVD collection. I bought a quality DVD player, and many other expensive gizmos and gadgets. But I can't fill the emptiness she once occupied. Amber was needlessly cruel, vein, sexually predictable, stubborn, and she chewed with her mouth open, but after five years of marriage, a man grows accustom to a routine.

A couple weeks ago, I found away to break from my routine.

I hadn't been with a woman since she walked out. My only sexual gratification came while viewing internet porn. When the computer started acting funny, I rented porn. During the last six months, I became an addict.

Amber absolutely despised smut, and for five years it had been shunned from my daily life, but with her out of the picture, I could watch all the good old fashioned hardcore pornography I've enjoyed since the day we invaded my father's secret stash in the back of my parents' bedroom closet.

With porn, I was able to forget about Amber, and replace the hurt with lust. I needed more, however. On Saturday, I accompanied a couple guys from Best Buy to a strip club in Chicago. The strip club was called The Scarlet Haven, and to be honest, this establishment is really sleazy and disgusting. In the past, I wouldn't have bothered spending even a minute in such a place, but I tolerated the vulgar atmosphere on this occasion.

The Scarlet Haven reeked of tobacco, alcohol, and body odor. The customers included circus sideshow attractions, lifelong perverts, and sweaty obese men. The girls were pretty, but by no stretch of the imagination were they as exotic as the strippers I'd been expecting. I watched naked girls dance badly to music that was too loud.

I had a good time.

An hour later, I met Rochelle, and my entire life changed.

I want to clarify a couple things right now. I didn't fall in love with a stripper. I didn't invite her on a date to the IHOP, and make chit-chat about her interests. I didn't tell her she was beautiful, nor did I ponder why a pretty girl would work at a sleazy strip club.

I did offer her one hundred dollars for a blowjob, however.

Rochelle accepted my offer.

Don't judge me, Dave. I'm twenty-seven years old, and I've been in one serious relationship my entire life. Ninety-five percent of my sexual experience involves the same woman. I needed to do something completely bold. But what I needed more than anything in the world at that moment was a blowjob.

I gave Rochelle my number before I left. She agreed to a meeting at my apartment after she got off work. I could've accompanied the stripper to a dimly lit back room, and got what I desired, but there was something else on my mind.

As you are about to discover in the coming paragraphs, pornography has corrupted my soul.

I'll skip some of the pleasantries. I returned home after midnight. Rochelle called at 12:35 on the dot. She had just left The Scarlet Haven when she called, and was walking toward her car. I gave directions to my building. I waited for fifteen minutes.

I didn't wait patiently. To keep my mind occupied, I played with the camcorder.

Rochelle arrived at 1:03 AM.

I offered the stripper a seat on my green and white checker pattern sofa, and offered her something to drink, but she only wanted to earn a quick buck. Deciding to just act on impulse, I asked Rochelle if she had considered pornography as a career option. There was awkward silence for a few moments, but instead of getting mad Rochelle demanded more money. The negotiations didn't last long. We settled on one hundred and fifty bucks.

Wanting to be a true professional, I did an interview with Rochelle before introducing her mouth to my cock.

Rochelle was a little shy at the beginning of the shoot. I admired her body in the silence. She's five feet, four inches tall, and probably weighs one hundred pounds. She wore a simple white tee-shirt, and tight jeans. Her tits are small and plump, just like her ass. Rochelle was perfectly petite with a round stomach, long brown hair and almond brown eyes.

I started the interview slow. I asked simple questions. I'll skip the play by play, and give you the gist of the interview.

Rochelle is nineteen years old, and has two children. Unlike most girls in her position, she is a high school graduate, but admits she doesn't know the fathers of her children. She admitted to being completely obsessed with sex, and in the last month, she had been crossing the line between stripper and prostitute more frequently.

An image of the dimly lit room back at The Scarlet Haven came to mind. How often did Rochelle take customers back there?

It didn't matter.

Deciding to skip the rest of my questions, I asked Rochelle to strip for me. I'll be brutally honest, Dave, the girl can't dance for shit. She moved her hips slowly, and tried to be seductive, but she looked lost, and completely stupid. She removed her shirt. Her small breasts fell to her hands. She turned away from me, and started shaking her ass. I yawned behind her back.

Rochelle removed her hands from her breasts and revealed her pointy nipples. On her hands and knees, Rochelle crawled to me, moving slowly, keeping eye contact. It looked absolutely ridiculous, but I was enthralled. She started rising between my legs, her hands settling on my crotch, her right hand massaging my cock through the pants. Moaning, Rochelle pulled down my zipper, and removed my cock from the opening. Rochelle's many rings made her grip cold.

My pants and boxers were at my feet. I held the camera with a steady grip while Rochelle massaged my cock with her palm and fingers. The pressure in my balls was rising quickly. I had waited six long months for this encounter.

Her smooth skin embraced the bulbous tip of my cock, sending shivers down my spine. Keeping eye contact, Rochelle smiled, licked her lips. The action was more comical than erotic, but I was too horny to decipher a difference. My cock was completely level with her mouth.

Rochelle leaned forward and ran the tip of her tongue up and across my balls, then moved it along my cock to the head. She guided her tongue up, over and around the entire head. I nearly dropped the camcorder.

She pushed the head of my cock into her mouth. She licked the pre-cum from my piss-hole, and then stroked it around the V-shaped ridge under the head. Finally my entire cock started departing between her lips.

I leaned back against the sofa, and let myself relax. I held the camcorder with my right hand, and the back of the stripper's head with the left.

Her left hand moved up and down my cock as she bobbed her head hysterically between my legs. I noticed saliva building at the corners of her mouth. I zoomed in for a closer look, completely satisfied.

In time, my hold on the camcorder steadied completely.

I acted on impulse.

Standing up, I started thrusting my cock into Rochelle's mouth. My cock slammed against the back of her throat. Rochelle gagged and coughed, but she didn't push away. I tightened my grip on the back of her head, and fucked her mouth intensely.

"AAAGGGHHH!" Rochelle mumbled.

My cock assaulted her tonsils.

"AAAGGGHHH!"

My balls slapped her chin and cheeks.

"MMMPPPHHH!"

I stopped suddenly, leaving the entire length of my cock crammed in her mouth, pushing against the back of her throat. I squeezed her nose shut, and called her a nasty whore. I might have slapped her face a few times, but I can't remember. Tears formed in her eyes. Finally, she pushed me away, gasping for breath, and spitting saliva all over my brown carpet. I didn't object. I was motivated by lust, and corrupted by porn.

I gave Rochelle a few moments to catch her breath before sliding my cock back inside her mouth. Her breasts and stomach were coated with saliva. I stretched the left side of her mouth wider with my fingers, and launched my cock into her mouth while keeping the camera as steady as possible. On her knees, hands behind her back, Rochelle gave me complete control of her mouth. A few minutes later, I felt my balls tighten.

I didn't give Rochelle any warning. One second I was fucking her mouth, and the next second I pulled out and ejaculated a massive load of cum all of her face. Six months of frustration all released in one explosion.

The first two jets erupted from my cock. My knees went weak, and a loud scream escaped my throat. The first two jets landed across her face, from nose to forehead. Thick strands of semen caught in her hair. The next three jets caught the right side of her face, striking her across the right eye, and obscuring her facial features. Cum was already starting to pool in the socket. Another jet caught the bridge of her nose. I slid my cock into her mouth, and let her swallow the last drops. Instead, she immediately spit the semen out, coating her chin, throat, and tits.

When I paid her, Rochelle was still naked and humiliated. Sitting on the sofa with a dumbfounded look on her face, she asked for a towel. The camcorder was still recording when she cleaned her face. She got dressed, and walked out of my life forever.

I was satisfied.

But I needed to do this again.

I'm dedicated to my new career, Dave. I want to be a pornographer.

Thanks for listening, and hopefully we can stay in touch this time. Life isn't the same when we're not friends.