I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor (First Lady of Smutpunk)

I Am Not a Whore
(at least not yet)

by Emme Hor (First Lady of Smutpunk)

“Can you give me a massage?” Neil asked as he changed the channel. “My back hurts.”

“I’m too tired baby,” I felt like he was just using me as his domestic slave lately.

Neil and I had been together a couple of years now and it had been a pretty great relationship, but sitting watching TV wasn’t the most fun way to spend an evening, especially when I was put to work. Also, he was starting to smell like an old man, like he didn’t shake his penis enough when he finishes peeing. I knew he didn’t because there were little yellow spots on the tile. Neil was becoming some sort of smelly piss clown and I didn’t like it at all. I wanted clean and put together.

Neil and I liked each other for a long time as friends before I grabbed him by the hand at a party, yanked him to a stairway, and made out with him. I think that was the alcohol. We have always enjoyed drinking together. I have always enjoyed drinking. Lately, we are dry and we watch sitcoms or crime-dramas on TV.

Before getting with me, Neil was with a girl named Sally. She was a lawyer from a small firm in New Jersey. After Neil and I started to really get down and dirty I could see he had fallen for me. “She never did these kinds of things for me. It was always put it in. Cum. Get it out. Done. My sex life is so much better with you.”

A couple years have passed and our relationship is still good. We hang out, we read the same books, enjoy the same weird, indie movies, love cooking spicy Southeast Asia curries and soups, and enjoy eating at posh, 3-Michelin-star restaurants together, but some of the fire is gone.

I mean, having stability is one thing but being in love and lust is something else. I haven’t hungered to taste his tongue in ages. We would need to spice it up soon or we would inevitably drift apart. Neil was a great person, but he didn’t get my heart thumping and my hormones stirring. I can’t remember the last time he had me truly hot.

Before me, Neil was in this relationship where he never had great sex. His ex-girlfriend wasn’t horrendously ugly. Looks weren’t the problem. But the first time I sucked him off and let him cum in my mouth he nearly fell over. “Holy shit, Neil. You’re white as a ghost. Do you want something?” I said. I helped him down onto the couch. I had been kneeling in front of him. I got up. I touched his hair. It was soft. I stroked his hair and neck. He had gooseflesh. Sweat was pouring off of him. His cheeks were red.

He was staring into space not saying anything.

“Neil!” I called. “Neil. Can you hear me? Neil!”

I got a cold glass of water. As I was walking back across the room, Neil spoke, “I can’t believe it. Sally never let me cum during a blow job. I could get close but then she’d make sure I didn’t finish in her mouth by making me jerk off ‘til I came.”

“You poor thing,” I said. “Here. Drink this.” I handed him rum. “That frigid girl is gone. You’re with me now.” My self-esteem was through the roof. I was hugging him with my massive ego, inflated and wrapping around him and the rest of the room.

The funny thing was I wasn’t exactly a whore or anything. I was just less frigid than his ex-girlfriend. It’s all relative. With Neil, if you let him cum you were a freaky slut in his sex-deprived mind.

I had had a few boyfriends, a couple of one night stands with some sloppy fucking, some messing around in college, and that’s about it. One of my ex-boyfriends wanted to get into BDSM. He wanted to tie my tits and become my Master. This turned me off. He didn’t have a commanding way about him, so it seemed ridiculous. Most of my dating life, I was  looking for a good guy. Neil fit the bill. He wasn’t perfect looking. He certainly wasn’t the all-star quarterback type with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a great body. I always loved that All-American type. It contrasted my dark, Asian body. They made me feel small and womanly in their arms.

Neil was tall and lanky. He sprouted a nice smile like a bouquet of sweet-smelling roses, but was basically an awkward-looking sequoia. He didn’t make me feel all that womanly. He just didn’t. He made me feel somewhat awkward, to be honest.

emme hor

Copyright © 2018 by Emme Hor
Uncut Smutpunk Fucking Edition for moctezumajohnson.com

This eBook is the work of Emme Hor and Girls Carrying Books and is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting author copyrights.

This is a work of fiction, kind of. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is coincidental.

WARNING: This novelette contains strong language and graphic sex scenes

The best sex that I’d ever had was with an older man when I was working in the art gallery. I had just finished my degree in Art History. I was working for a local gallery near the bay and this older man with a lot of money came in. I was single and had never found older men handsome to this point. He was very polite yet commanding with me from the moment he met me. He did not buy any art, but he did get my phone number and a dinner date with me. He took me to a very nice Italian place with old, rickety, wooden chairs. The tables had fresh roses. The restaurant was a converted train station. The train passed by. The sound was romantic like we were in an old movie, like he was Carry Grant and I was Katherine Hepburn. His feet touched mine under the table. He stared into my eyes. His eyes were very certain and commanding. I looked down at my pasta. I took in the scent of basil and his musky cologne.

We ate, drank a bottle of expensive Italian red wine. I felt it go to my head. I felt myself getting gushy down there. Each time the train passed on the tracks, I noticed I was more excited, looser mentally, and ready for more fun. He squeezed my thigh. I smiled.

We wobbled to his place. He showed me his glass statues. They were on white pedestals like his apartment was a museum. “Your apartment is so beautiful,” I said.

“Thank you. Your mouth is beautiful,” he said. Then he told me that he wanted a blow job, which I gave him while kneeling down in front of him. I just let him take my face in his hands and use my mouth and throat. He didn’t push the back of my head down but guided me over his cock and got all of his big thing in. It was fun to be in his hands and at his mercy. “I have to fuck you from behind.”

He got everything he wanted. I’d had clumsy anal before where my young boyfriends kind of got their dicks in me, but this was different. This man spread my ass cheeks open and he took me. It was certain, inevitable, painful, and wonderful all at once. I could feel his attitude: he owned my ass.

This was my first taste of power exchange and it was fun. This man commanded me. He took what he wanted from me. I enjoyed being his object.

It wasn’t a long relationship but it lasted more than a night. I guess you could say it was an extended one night stand. A one month stand. He used me however he wanted but also took me under his wing. He introduced me to my new boss, who may have been in love with me, and my career took off. My new boss gave me some stock tips. I invested and got wealthy. That was a stroke of good luck. Also, his secretary Lorna Morris kept asking me if she could tongue fuck me. “I just know that you have a wet, gorgeous pussy. I can smell it.” She’d laugh, but she was dead serious.

Then I met Neil. We were friends with other friends in common and started to drink together. It took months of liking each other before one of us had the balls to do anything about it. Like everything in our relationship, I had to take the lead.

Sometimes I got sick of being the one who made the money, the one with the important job, the one with the responsibilities. He made me feel too much like his mother and not enough like a young, vibrant woman. Sometimes I wanted to stick the money up my ass, pull it out, and stuff it into Neil’s mouth while yelling, “You like that bitch?”

One day, after dating for ages, we were walking with our dog, Lenny, when I saw this guy. He was nearly a mile away but I could see his walk. He was sexy. The kind of sexy I like. He had a big, full build. He was strong and had an incredible ass. Even from this far I knew it. I saw him and thought he’d be moving away and out of my life but instead we were right there next to each other. Now I could really see his barrel chest and machine gun arms. He was amazing. I just wanted to walk away from Lenny and Neil and fall right into this guy’s arms. But this couldn’t happen. I just watched this hunk walk on by and thought that if he touched my hips with those masculine hands that I would just bend over and open my holes for him.

His hands never touched me. In fact he may have not even noticed me, so I went back to listening to Neil talking about pirating music or whatever geek-bullshit he was babbling on about.

This was life in the USA for me. I used to live in Japan. I was always kind of sheltered there and yearned for more. I got away. I moved to Tokyo to go to school. I was a musician there in a club. Most of the boys tried to get me drunk. This made the other girls jealous. I mean, so I had a more curvy body? What was I to do about it? I still didn’t really care for this date-rape style of being seduced. When I got a chance to work for a multinational company that made semi-conductors and little blue penguins I took it. When I had a chance to work in the US, I took it. Now that I’ve lived here for some years, my heart was getting antsy. I needed something else. I needed more.

“Babe?” Neil was trying desperately to get my attention. He and Lenny the dog were both staring at me. I was in my thoughts watching this gorgeous specimen walk away from my life forever and down into the subway station. He was gone and I was back for them.

“You want to get an ice cream?”

I shook out my hair, like that would rid me of all these adulterous thoughts, “why not, babe.”

We sat outside a little mom and pop grocery shop. The dog was at my feet. The street was a quaint little puritan relic in Rhode Island that was still in the 1650s in spirit even though we were in the 21st century. On this street, you couldn’t be sure. Instead of parking spaces for cars in front of us it was built for bikes. Few people were out today. It was quiet.

Neil was munching on a green tea ice cream out of the cup and I was eating an ice pop called “Bloody Quickie” by a company called “Lil’ Sugar.” Maybe that was the catalyst.

Neil was staring at me, so I gave him a show. I held the red berry ice pop up to my mouth. My lips were parted, and my tongue was slightly out. Like Lenny, I looked like I was panting from the heat. He was panting cause of the sun, but me, no, it was different. I was hungry for a big, hard cock. In my deluded mind, I was getting it. I was panting as I brought the big, dripping ice pop toward my open mouth. I licked from the very bottom of the shaft all the way to the top while staring into Neil’s eyes. I repeated this full-length lick while holding the stick at the base. I put the tip in my mouth and crinkled up my nose. I stared at Neil. I sucked on it. It was cold on my lips. It was sweet and tasty in my mouth. I pulled it out, “Yum!” I said.

“You’re too much,” he answered.

“Am I?” I taunted him. Then I shoved the entire length of the thing into my mouth. The ice pop was in my mouth to the back of my throat. Only the stick was hanging out. I put on my sad puppy eyes and then pulled the length of it back out of my mouth. In a sweet baby voice I said, “Baby wishes she had something bigger and harder to suck on.”

“Baby!” Neil chided me and looked down into his ice cream. “Come on, you’re not a whore!”

I laughed. “Okay, you’re no fun, you know that?”

I ate “properly” the rest of the way and then we strolled home. I had been bitten. It was done. Between the hunk whose hands never touched me and never forced me into being his property, the ice pop, the nasty feeling of raw lust in my gut, I was trembling. My pores were open. My heart was beating hard.

I tried to let this feeling pass. It just wouldn’t go away. I would be at the supermarket in the aisle with the chocolate syrup and imagine the stock boy spraying it all over my chest. I would be reading a book in the bookstore and want to rip off my clothes and finger myself right there with the book resting on my pelvis.

While with Neil in the copy shop I wanted to be railed by the automaton making a photo copy of one of his geek achievements, something or other about being the Renegade Music Pirate of the Year or something I didn’t care about. All the machines pounded in their robotic, repetitive back and forth. It was too much for me. I wanted to be railed by an automaton. I wanted a fucking machine to do me over and over again until I was trembling. I was jealous of the sex life of a room full of copy machines. I mean, I was so aroused by all this copying that I would have let R2D2 finger me with that gyroscope that cracks imperial codes while C3PO diddled my ass with his gold-tipped toe.

That night I went for a bike ride. I rode to Lorna Morris’ house. Her boyfriend was in the back fixing a broken outdoor table umbrella that stuck into an outdoor table. I imagined the solid wood shaft of the umbrella going in and out of the hole in the table. Everything was sexy. I was wet. Not damp. Wet. Everything was sex.

In her bedroom, I saw Lorna adding the last bits of clothes to the laundry basket.

I snuck into the laundry room and sat on the washing machine. I moved to the dryer, which was shaking like a lucky girl getting cunnilingus. I felt the shake and the warmth and inched that much closer to climax. When Lorna came in and saw me with my long legs spread on her bucking machine she threw the basket to the ground. The dirty clothes spilled out everywhere. She got down and let her amazing tongue work me. The wet tongue of her relieved the pain in my soul. It was pure magic on my swollen clit. The machine buzzed and whirred to a shaky cataclysmic stop. It vibrated. Lorna licked. She fingered. She teased. My orgasm built and built, passed the point of no return, and built some more.

I was on the verge of orgasm. Her boyfriend burst in, I guess he’d heard the buzz, and seeing him sent me over the edge. I grabbed the shelf above me so hard I dislodged it from the wall. As I came, I got showered in fabric softener. “So you finally seduced her, Lorn,” he said and walked back out, leaving the laundry room door wide open.

I rode back home feeling great. Orgasm had cleared my thoughts.

Back home I helped Neil with his work. “Let’s go on a trip,” I said as I bundled his copies and stuck them deep inside a brown envelope.

“A trip?” I could see Neil didn’t want to but he was worried. He had a feeling that he was letting me slip away. Lately, he asked me if I loved him and if I would leave him. Too often he let me access his insecurities. I found this pathetic and thought it made his dick smaller. I know, I’m a bitch.

“Yes,” I said to my withering man. “Let’s go to Thailand.” That was the epicenter of depravity. And that’s what I needed in my life. I could see Lorna’s face between my legs and I was excited.

He agreed and we made love all night long. I made him into a man again. He fucked me well that night. I came again and again for the first time in months. I gave him my ass that night to say thanks for the trip, honey. We slept so late that I ended up being late for work in the morning

By the end of the week the Thai Trip was all booked. We had a few weeks’ vacation-time saved up and planned to use it.

Three and a half movies, three in-flight meals, and a smattering of hot, kindle erotica books later1 we walked out the plane door. The bustle of the dingy US was behind us. I walked down the steps like a movie star into the sunlight and down to the tarmac where a tram was waiting to take us to the main terminal in a brand new, modern airport. The air smelled like sweet palms, cooking charcoal, and coconut. I immediately felt alive.

A few days later, I was there walking in the street with Neil’s credit card about to have a day of shopping without him around. Yay! It was a hot winter day south of the equator. Fuck Rhode Island. Fuck the USA. I was off Sukumvit Road somewhere. The sun was baking down on me. I was hungry, looking for somewhere to eat. Maybe I’d get a coffee. The new tank top that I had bought in the Thai Department Store Emporium was a little too tight, many guys were staring at my breasts and I was loving it. I felt like this was the right size for me. I should be filling out my clothes. What had I been hiding? Yeah, I’m Asian and not a toothpick, as the Americans say or a chopstick, as the Malaysians say. I am me. Deal with it!

I was enjoying all the different shops, the hotels, the people, the SkyTrain. This is exactly what I needed. I needed attention. I needed to feel sexy. I needed to feel alive again. In the US I felt like survival was in my ability to slink away from the spotlight. Too many rude people, too many guns, too many racists. That was wrong. Here people were ogling me, looking at me like I was in the spotlight.

I was wearing very short white jeans shorts that Neil had bought me when we shopped together. He was asleep, or getting a massage, or both. I mean it is Thailand. Massage leads to handjob which leads to him taking a nap. I don’t mind him having some of those massage girls jerk him off, as long as he’s safe and doesn’t do anything stupid like fuck one in the ass without a condom. Also, I wasn’t feeling jealous at all. I was feeling empowered. Ever since cunnilingus on the dryer I was in myself again. Neil and I were having great sex suddenly. It was like the environment had rubbed off on both of us. I even think his dick got bigger in the hot climate. He always wanted to take it out now. He was no longer that prude in front of the ice pop shop. In fact, when he bought me these hot pants I was wearing, I went into the dressing room to try on some bras and panties for him. He took the camera and filmed me putting my hot body into a variety of different sexy lingerie combinations. I had my hair up like Princess Leia and confidently he pulled out his meaty cock which I sucked while he filmed in the endless permutations of mirrors and reflections. I sucked him off in seven dimensions and took his cum in each from a different angle. I was the central point of a smoke and mirrors bukkake. He came on my face so thick that some dripped onto a red lace affair that I was trying on. We left it in the dressing room and bought a couple of cumstain-free pieces.

Everything seemed to be falling in place. But it wasn’t at all. I mean there’s always an Arquillian Battlecruiser orbiting the earth about to extinguish life on this tiny little planet. The next problem was all but around the corner. It was this morning, as I was strutting around Bangkok feeling on top of the world, feeling like a superstar, like I could be a movie star or a duchess, that my life-rainbow got stained with a thick sludge of tar forever when this asshole came to me and said, “How much?”

 

THE END ###