Chapter 10: Anniversary

Time flew by and before I knew it, it was a year since I’d tried to accidentally kill myself.

My life had changed almost beyond recognition. I had recently moved to a better apartment. It was in the same area as my old one, because I liked the neighbourhood and, if anything, it was even nicer than Claire’s. But I had made sure not to choose an apartment in the same block as Claire: that would have made life just too awkward.

I was still ass-fucking Claire on a regular basis. Mostly it was in the Cleaning Manager’s office. Claire was desperately hunting for husband and babyfather material; she found plenty of candidates who measured up in the physical sense, but nobody who measured up in the relationship sense. So every few weeks, after she’d dumped another loser, she’d call me and invite me round for one of her delicious home-cooked meals and some commiserative ass-fucking. Claire was the only person I had ass-fucked outside the office.

Of the other regulars, Honeybee stopped for a while after marrying her big-dicked boyfriend and changing from a Churchill to a Ralston, but she lasted less than a month before capitulating and seeking my ass-fucking services again.

I think Penelope DeVere would have offered to marry me, or at least offer me a job as her concubine, if I’d had the right ancestry, because physically I was giving her exactly what she wanted and I was completely discreet about it. In a way it was rather amusing to contrast how passionate she was towards me during our sessions in the Cleaning Manager’s office against the coolness she displayed elsewhere. As far as I was aware nobody had learned of her little peccadilloes, although if they’d stood outside the door of the Cleaning Manager’s office at the right time, they wouldn’t have had to guess very hard.

The ass-fucking with Irina Lafkis was sensational. A couple of times I tried pressing for some sort of relationship with her outside work, but both times she rebuffed me. I even wondered whether she was a closet lesbian, using me in secret to satisfy urges that her partner couldn’t.

For a few of the women, like Joyce Brunt and Pamela Sanchez-Lopez, their session with me in the Cleaning Manager’s office was a one-time thing, but the majority of the women came back for more. And the ass-fucking improved over time. As I became more acquainted with the bodies of my assignations, I discovered their erogenous zones and was able to enhance the quality of their experiences, giving them more and longer orgasms. And that resulted in more pleasure for me too. I introduced tools to help me where necessary. For example, spanking Penelope DeVere while fucking her ass was a topological nightmare, but it became much easier after I brought in a table-tennis bat.

I know I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer but even I could see something very weird was going on. Working in an environment where most of my co-workers were women, there were a lot of women’s magazines available to read for the asking. They included statistics about women who had tried and enjoyed anal sex, had indulged in office affairs, and had cheated on their partners. By comparison, I had ass-fucked about half the attractive women in the company, about half of whom were in a steady relationship or married at the time, and I had given all of them an enjoyable time with at least one orgasm per session. Those statistics were way out of sync with experiences of the general population. I had no logical explanation. My mind kept going back to the little green man, but I was far from sure that he wasn’t just a figment of my drunken imagination. I had taken the empty whiskey bottles with me to my new apartment but I had no move to get them tested for fingerprints or DNA. I didn’t know how. It was some comfort that Joyce and Pamela were one-timers, because that suggested there was no secret coercion or violation of free-will involved.

Even with all the sex I was getting, I felt something was missing. Just occasionally I wished I could get to fuck a woman’s pussy. The last pussy my dick had been in was Claire’s, a little over a year before. Don’t get me wrong, the ass-fucking was sensational, particularly with Irina Lafkis, but I missed the sensation of my dick being enveloped by a tight, velvety glove. And at the back of my mind, there was still the question of how I could find a partner, get married and raise a family if I was limited to ass-fucking.