WARNING: this story contains dirty language, Vegas, mean students, beastiality, poverty, a gang bang, marriage, bodily mutilation, death, and a zit
Right now I have a question. One that doesnt eventually lead to the salvation of the world, or one that will positively or negatively affect anyone's life but my own. However it is a question nevertheless, with the utmost importance to both me and my sanity. Here goes:
If I get a zit on my ass, ok, ok, more like in my ass, but not actually physically in my ass, more like in my ass crack, where the skin from one cheek touches the skin from the other, if I get a zit there, does it mean that I dont wipe my ass good enough?
And the next day, after thoroughly cleaning my ass after every use the preceding day, if I then still have this now painful zit on my ass and now a blooming zit on my face, does this mean that after first realizing I had a zit in my ass crack that I didnt wash my hands properly and then touched my face, moving the dirty zitty area from one mostly concealable part of my body to my most prominent part of my body?
Thank the good lords I didnt touch my nose which is already bent in such a fashion that I have been nicknamed Broom Hilda by my students. The always brown, sometimes hairy mole that I already have planted on the side of my nose already provides enough extra curvature. On a side note I am much thankful that I am no longer called the wicked witch of the Weist, I quickly took my husbands name after marriage.
He later died, but that's ok because he beat me, but I kept his name, mostly to annoy his rich, catholic family who hated that I was a teacher from a poor Russian neighborhood. I married him in Vegas. I was 35 and on sabbatical, he was 20 and had to bring the ugliest woman he could find to his fraternity's spring formal. We got married on the way to the formal Circus Circus. I have the documents to prove it. His family doesnt believe in divorce, even in extreme situations.
We met on the strip, not the new strip but the old strip. It was the only place I could afford after saving for three years on my teachers salary. I ate nothing but canned tuna fish for two of those years to save up the UPS labels in order to redeem the points. They had really neat things to purchase, even if you had eaten only a little bit of their tuna. There were stuffed seals for fifty points, and Sea Monkeys for twenty five. My trip to Vegas cost 15,000 points.
When I went to claim the trip from the tuna manufacturer I was nearly laughed out of the door, but I showed them all of my UPS labels and they let me speak to the vice president of marketing, whose office overlooked the fillet station by the way. Eventually I was rewarded with my tickets and I had my picture taken with their mascot, a seal in a can, it doesnt really make sense.
On my way out of the door the vice president of marketing asked me why I didnt just go purchase tickets to Vegas instead of buying the cans of tuna. I told him I was hungry, and that I liked their tuna.
I eventually saved enough cash to afford my hotel room on the old strip and went there with Vegas' motto on my mind. Plus I felt that my pussy was getting dusty and full of cob webs. I figured there had to be at least one tubby chaser out there to moisten my loins.
I barely left the front lobby when my future husband approached me with his buddies. I noticed they were all drunk so I just figured that the farm animal noises were a result of their lack of sobriety. Plus there was this really fat lady standing behind me, they were probably just making fun of that poor monstrosity. I looked really good in the mirror.
My beloved wrapped his arm around me and shoved a martini glass in my sweaty hand. I drank and the party began. Although I must admit that everything from after that point gets a little blurry. Ok, downright invisible.
I must have blacked out because I woke up the next morning with a ring on my finger, my panties across the room and white residue all over my face. My husband was sleeping next to me with his tie wrapped around his forehead and his pants around his ankles. All of his friends where passed out on the floor, most of them naked.
On the table next to the bed was our wedding license. I began to cry, happy tears, for I have found my true love. He even went the extra step and gave me a face treatment to keep me pretty to meet his family. I cant figure out why my ass hurts.
I go over to my husband and turn him over. I see that his cock is hard, so I kneel down and start to blow him. As I move my wet mouth up and down his shaft he starts to moan and grabs my head to make me work faster.
Then he screams and I cant remember anything again, up until I wake up in the hospital with my adopted brother Pastel sitting beside me. The strange thing about Pastel is that I dont have any childhood memories involving him, and I am pretty sure that he is at least my age. He always seems to have on leather pants, similar to the ones I found in my parents closet that dont have crotches. I once tried to fix the pants for my parents, but my mom yelled when she found me with needle and thread in hand and told me that those pants werent for the outside anyway, which is why I have always wondered why Pastel got to where his inside pants outside.
Pastel told me that my headache was a result of the punch that my husband gave me to the back of my head, which then caused me to bit, and I bit hard, but apparently not hard enough. I bit my husband hard enough to make him bleed, but not quite enough so he was freed from the clamp that my jaw created.
He bled out before the EMS could get there.
Pastel congratulated me on my marriage and told me that he was utterly sorry for my lose. At least we spent the happiest times of our lives together. Pastel said that I will always have the night we met. I cherish those memories.
But at the same time I cant forget about this zit on my ass. I cant figure out why it doesnt have a twin zit on my other cheek. Maybe I do too much sitting on my right ass cheek and it doesnt have anything to do with improper wiping technique. I am a second grade English teacher and I do sit on my ass and read to children every day. And my right leg is my dominant leg, at least it was when I was in second grade and we played kick ball and I would kick the ball with my right leg. Maybe I favor sitting on my right cheek which caused this nasty painful zit in my ass crack.
Then again I always go back to blaming myself. I guess it would help if I was actually able to reach my ass and whip it myself. I cant imagine that relying on the dog to lick me clean is the best way, and having to hold it in all day long while at school hasnt been great either. My doctor says that my hemorrhoids are a direct result of my shitting habits. I dont say shit around my students. Sometimes I dont want the dog to stop licking. It's funny when I eat mexican food.