The Autumn Diaries (8 page)

So against her better judgment, Autumn stuck a light bulb up Vick’s ass. It made it out safely, though Autumn was sweating bullets the entire time. If not for the fact that they were in a sixty-nine, with Vick’s tongue buried in her pussy, she would have had a panic attack. As it was, she simply painted his face with slippery pussy juice and wondered, not for the first time, if she was getting off on the vicarious danger.
 

D-Day came when Vick said he wanted the bathtub faucet up his ass. Autumn was reluctant. But by then Vick understood how this worked, so he dropped his pants and started rubbing his fantastic veiny throbbing cock until it was at full mast, put his hand on Autumn’s shoulder, nudged her to the ground, and stuck it in her mouth. With Vick’s mammoth pole between her lips, Autumn immediately felt her resistance dissolving. It was like a pacifier, and Autumn had a moment of inspiration involving a stress-relieving toy for adult women.
 

“Ow, aw
wight
,” said Autumn around a mouthful of Vick. Then she polished his knob until he dropped a thick load of splooge down her throat while shoving four fingers up her pussy and rubbing it like she had a grudge against it.
 

The operation was different from Vick’s normal requests, with many logistical difficulties. Vick didn’t want Autumn to remove the faucet. He wanted to use it in the way an adventurous girl might use a dildo with a suction cup on the back. So he got naked then onto all fours in the tub and backed up. Autumn watched, nudging things into place as needed. It was a lot like watching a driver trying to squeeze into a tiny on-street parallel parking spot.
 

“A little more to the left,” she said. “Okay, now straight back. Wait… hold up. You have a snag. Go forward a little.”
 

Autumn was also in charge of lubrication. She used half of a bottle of KY Jelly working the curved part inside and the second half working past the little release on the top that would turn on the shower overhead if you pulled it up. But finally, Vick was fully impaled on the faucet and sighing with an almost shocking (even for Autumn) contentment, his giant cock hard and quivering on its own, as if this faucet had been his great white whale.
 

Vick started writhing and Autumn reached down and began working his fuckstick, secretly afraid he would tell her to turn on the water. It would be the most extreme enema ever. How extreme of an enema could a person take before it killed them?
 

Autumn wiggled onto her back, totally naked, and slid down under Vick backward and upside down, until his dick was tapping her on the chin like it wanted to tell her something. She craned her neck up and started to work it. Vick was ready. Very ready. He came almost immediately, then implored her to keep going — he wanted to cum again. Autumn, aware of how deviant she herself felt after assisting in such sexual atrocities, continued to pump Vick’s dick, working it with both hands, her legs dangling over the sides of the tub with her pussy spread wide. Vick made her worries vanish by burying his face in her cunt and making her cum, then he came again and Autumn felt like she’d been waterboarded with his spoo. That thought made her cum again, and she swallowed his giant load. They sat for a while, thoroughly satisfied.
 

So this was what it took to get off in the Internet age.
 

After a minute or two of afterglow, Autumn wiggled out of the tub and Vick began moving forward to extricate himself, shortly declaring himself stuck.
 

“How can I be stuck?” he said.
 

Autumn, thinking of that little knob on the top of the faucet and how hard it had been to get past it, said, “How can you
not
be stuck?”
 

“You’ve got to get me off,” said Vick.

Autumn pointed at his flagging and still-dripping cock. “I just got you off. Twice.”
 

“Off the faucet.” He seemed extremely nervous all of a sudden. Autumn found it hard to believe this was the first time he’d gotten stuck on something, but it sounded that way.
 

“Oh. Sure.” So she tried, using her fingers, but it was nothing doing. His ass had closed for business, except that there was a faucet in the way.
 

“This is like a band of metal,” she said, tugging at his asshole. “Like Iron Maiden.”
 

Vick’s demeanor shifted 180 degrees.
“Don’t fucking make jokes!”
 

“All right, I’m sorry. But seriously, you’re like, distorting the shape of this thing, you’re clenching it so hard. Nothing’s budging.”
 

“Oh shit. Oh shit.” Vick started to panic, which made his ass tighter. Autumn tried squeezing lube along the edges, but nothing worked. Vick’s ass had gone on strike.
 

“Hang on,” Autumn said, then ran to fetch something, returning a few seconds later.
 

He screamed, “YOU CAN’T USE A SHOEHORN ON MY ASSHOLE!”
 

“Would you rather stay there forever? My friend has this thing on her faucet that looks like an alligator head, so her kids can laugh at how the water comes out of an alligator’s mouth. Maybe you want to be like that? I could send the kids over to see where the water comes out of you?”

“Fine. Use the shoehorn,” he spat. Vick sounded angry, turning into the asshole version Autumn couldn’t stand, as if this were all her fault. She tried shoving the shoehorn around the edges, and managed to get in, but there was no way she was going to get it over that knob.

“It’s almost as if this faucet wasn’t meant to be shoved up a human ass,” Autumn said after fifteen minutes of surprisingly strenuous work. She was still naked but they’d both worked up a thin sweater of sweat from all the labor.
 

Autumn retrieved more tools, each more aggressive than the first. She felt like Bob Vila if Bob Vila were an ass doctor.
 

“GET ME OFF HERE, GODDAMMIT!” Vick shouted, still acting as if Autumn had gotten him into this situation.
 

“I can’t. You’re locked in. Maybe you need to be more turned on.”
 

Autumn realized that in a way, maybe it was her fault. She was the one who’d robbed him of two rather large loads of cum, after all. So she reached down and started stroking his dick, making it hard.
 

“I’m not in the mood for a fucking handjob!”
 

Vick’s cock was rock hard.
 

“Seriously!”

“Hey, I’m doing this for your own good,” Autumn said, stroking him harder and faster. She wiggled her head between the visible arm and leg and licked the tip, her tits squishing against the side of the tub.

Vick started to swat at her, pushing her away.
 

“Hey! Trying to help you here!” Autumn said.
 

“You got me into this! Get me out of this!”
 

“Hey, this is your fetish,” said Autumn, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.
 

“Get back down here and get me off this faucet, you fucking bitch!”
he screamed.
 

Autumn cocked her head. “Really?” she said.

“GET ME OFF THIS FAUCET! GET DOWN HERE AND GET THIS OUT OF MY ASS, YOU CUNT!”
 

Autumn nodded. “Okay, I’ll get it out,” she said.
 

Autumn went to the front room, made a phone call, then returned to the bathroom and started putting her clothes back on.
 

“You called 911?” said Vick.
 

Autumn began to feel bad. Poor guy was stuck. She should be more understanding.
 

“I’M TALKING TO YOU, BITCH!” he yelled.
 

Nah, she understood plenty.

“They’ll be here soon,” she said.
 

On her way out, Autumn passed a van that had just pulled into the driveway. On the side in large red letters was “A1 Plumbing.” An advertisement on the van’s side offered ten-minute emergency plumbing, for those who had a sink spraying the kitchen, or maybe a faucet up their asses.
 

Two men got out of the truck and looked at Autumn, who hooked a thumb back toward the house.

“In the bathroom,” she said. “He’s having trouble getting off the tub faucet.”
 

As Autumn drove home, she found herself wondering if Vick would drive himself to the hospital or not, and whether he’d manage to get pants on.
 

Either way, the plumbing bill would surely be a bitch.

A
P
R
I
L
8

SAM INVITED ME TO HIS parents’ house for Easter. We went to church because they’re the kind of family that goes twice a year to keep God from getting pissed. It was fine. There was a lot of singing and I managed to keep my hands out from under my skirt for an hour, and nobody threw holy water on me or made the sign of the cross.
 

This was only the second time I’ve met Sam’s parents, and the first time didn’t count because they were leaving Applebee’s when we were arriving. He’s been telling them about me, which is really flattering, but I he’s telling them any of the stuff I’m telling my family. Well, Celeste, anyway, who is hardly fazed since she sells pussy.
 

Short version here is that I found myself getting pleased by the fact that my guy would take me home for Easter and, because I don’t seem to have a normal woman’s biology, found myself immediately wet. There’s pretty much nothing that doesn’t get me wet, I’ve realized. I seem to have conditioned myself to get wet at just about anything. If we were going to a football game, I’d think of those guys on the field with tight bodies in tight pants and get wet. If we went to a physics lecture, I’d start thinking about the dynamics of Sam’s hard, straight vector inside of my dripping wet trajectory. If we went to a toy store, I’d start thinking of furries. And I don’t even really like furries.

When Sam asked me to come over for Easter, I told him yes by bending over the bathroom sink and dropping my pants. Sam is a good boy. He didn’t comment; he just dropped his own pants and shoved his cock up into my eyeballs through my pussy, then fucked me so hard I shattered that little cup thing he keeps his toothbrush in. Because I was feeling both super cock-hungry and apologetic, I was sure to be a good girl and turned around fast when he was about to cum so that I could finish the job with my mouth, and Sam painted my tongue and the roof of my mouth with his man batter.

Then, after getting back from the Easter service (where, again, remember, I managed to refrain from diddling myself because Jesus doesn’t like it when you do that in church), I was so horny that I shoved Sam into the attached garage and into his mother’s Buick and rode him in the back seat. I kept my top on because this was Easter and there are ways a lady shouldn’t behave. But I made the mistake of making that joke to Sam later, and he laughed, but the joke rebounded at me and I started getting all turned on again, and so right before the ham was finished, I pushed Sam into the basement, tore off my Easter blouse and the bra I’d worn because nice ladies wear bras in church, and told him to fuck my tits. He did, standing up, and then coated me in Easter gravy, which I then rubbed all over my nipples.
 

Sam’s mother then called him to help make salads, so he tucked in and ran up the stairs. I had to stay downstairs and rub one out. I got a handful of Sam’s spunk first, and rubbed that in while I got myself off. What the hell, I’m on the pill.
 

I guess we ate a meal after that or something. I think there was pie.

A
P
R
I
L
10

I’M STARTING TO GET MORE and more reader mail from people who’ve read my stuff. It’s pretty gratifying. I write back with my smutty thoughts and filthy mouth and these ladies just keep coming back for more. The funny thing is that the tone of the conversations — pussies and cum and cocks aside — is still mostly about enhancement and freedom. It’s as if they’ve wanted to discuss this stuff and to think about this stuff and maybe to tell the other people in their lives about their own feelings and lust and desires, but have never felt like they could. Until now. Until Lexi Maxxwell showed them that it was okay — that you could be a smart, real woman
and
be a slut at the same time.
 

I can’t believe it looks like I’ll be able to do this full time eventually — writing smut as my full-time fucking job.

I can’t believe that while I’m doing that — while I’m doing my best (and succeeding) at getting a lot of hands rubbing wet pussies and jerking hard cocks — I seem to actually be making a positive difference in the world.
 

A
P
R
I
L
15

TO CELEBRATE THE “1 WEEK after Easter” holiday, I dressed up in a schoolgirl outfit and surprised Sam in his apartment. Sam wasn’t aware that there was a “1 week after Easter” holiday or that it was celebrated with a slutty schoolgirl outfit. I unzipped his fly and got out his cock, then sat on it. Sam continued to feign ignorance. So after fucking his cock for a few minutes and cumming twice, drenching Sam’s pants, I got down on my knees, took off my shirt, and jerked him off onto my tits. Then he hardened back to what we’d done in the basement and looked at all of the sticky, gooey cum between my boobs and dripping from my nipples and said, “Oh yeah, now I remember.”
 

A
P
R
I
L
27

I HAVE THE BEST JOB in the world. Or at least, I’m slowly building up to it.

So here’s what happened today: I went to the post office. For a normal girl, this is just a by-the-way sort of a thing — the sort of errand you handle between getting a few Xeroxes at Kinko’s and picking up a gallon of milk at the Quickie Mart. But for me, it’s a powderkeg situation.