EIGHT

Next few weeks we saw a lot of each other. I went hunting for a job and she kept whoring out her cunt. I tried to forget she was fucking for money but she always had money so it was hard to forget. I thought about forbidding her to whore around. But she wouldn't a listened to me. For Janice, it was her way or no way, no matter how much of an alpha male I am. Depsite all a that, there was something innocent about her. I found myself thinking about her at the most unlikely of times -- like when I was taking a shit. I started to get the feeling we was supposed to be together, like we were meant to be or something.

After we fucked one night, we sat back in my bed smoking cigarettes. She rolled over and said, "Don't you ever want anything more out of your life?"

I had to think about that for awhile, not only because it was one a them profound questions, but I hadn't thought in so long I didn't remember how to do it. Finally, I came up with something:

"You mean something like you got a twin sister?" I said. Having two Janices to fuck instead a just one would a made my life a lot more special. One could suck on my balls while the other rode Big Ole Cock. And vice versa. The possibilities were endless.

"I didn't mean it that way," she said.

I lit her up a cigarette and passed it to her. "You look sexy when you're angry," I said.

"I'm not angry."

"Yes, you are. I can see your top lip trembling."

Her eyes narrowed, but in the slits they still glistened. She threw back the sheet and rolled out a bed and moved to the front window. For a moment all I could see was her silhouette. Then, while she stood at the foot of the bed, her nipples hardened. She had seen Big Ole Cock slumbering against my thigh and wanted to sit on him again.

"You can be a real pig," she said.

"Pigs and humans ain't that different. A lot a people I know remind me a pigs. And if you ever fucked a pig, you'd know it feels pretty much the same as fucking a broad."

She looked down again and saw Big Ole Cock coming back to life.

"You talk about fucking pigs and you get hard again?" Her top lip was really trembling now.

"I can't help what turns me on," I said in my own defense.

"When you look at me you're reminded of some sow?" she said.

I didn't know what a sow was. I said: "What's a sow?"

"A pig, for Christ's sake, Bob!"

"Well, you sure as hell fuck the same. Besides, I'm spent for one night. I unloaded about a gallon inside you. My balls is big, but they can't whip up another load that fast."

Then, she gasped, "You weren't wearing a rubber?"

"Cuts off the ciculation," I said. "When you got a tool this big, you need to allow it blood to stay hard."

She jumped on top a me, I thought because she wanted another load so bad she couldn't stand it; but then she started slapping my chest and I know that ain't something she enjoyed in a sexual way.

"Goddamnit, I can't keep running my business if I get pregnant, Bob!"

"Quit whoring," I said. "There's one solution to the problem."

"And do what with my life?"

"I don't know. Live with me. I'll support you. My new job pays almost eleven bucks an hour. That's enough for me and you to live on. Just stop hitting me!"

She paced the room, seriously considering my offer, even though I'd just spit it out to stop her from hitting me. Seemed like she was working things over in her head but I didn't ask her to let them out. I might a been whipped by then but I wasn't no woman; I didn't need to know what she was thinking. Just let her go on and think if she wanted to, that was my philosphy. 

Finally, she said, "I have to think about this more," like it was some sort a big deal or something.

"Think about what?" I'd forgotten what we were talking about.

"Me moving in, asshole!"

"Oh," I groaned.

"I need some air."

"Okay," I said, rolling out of the bed; "let's go for a walk."

"No, I have to go by myself."

I rolled back in the bed, thanking God I didn't have to walk. What kind a badass American would I be if I walked for pleasure? Or thought about shit, for that matter. Even though I didn't like thinking, I didn't wanna stop no one from thinking -- except for myself. That was one a Bob Collins's principles: Every day, do as little thinking as possible. Beer was my main tool to accomplish this, although any form a alcohol worked. Unfortunately, I didn't have no alcohol so I was still somewhat involved in the current situation. If she wanted to think, she could go right ahead and give herself a headache if she wanted to. Bob Collins wasn't about to stop her. Besides, if she went out for a walk and a think I wouldn't have to cuddle with her. Winners all the way around.

"Go ahead and take your walk if you need to," I said. "I understand."

She smiled then began to dress herself. I watched her dress and it made me wanna fuck either her or a pig again. When she covered her titties up I thought I'd just slipped into a major depression but it passed pretty quickly. Then she walked out the door, didn't say goodbye or nothing, just went down the hall deep in thought. I felt bad for her. Being the type a person who thinks as a part of everyday life is like getting punished for something you didn't do. She didn't even take her cigarette with her, just left it on the nightstand.

"Waste of a good cigarette," I said. I picked it up and took a hit. Then I started playing with myself and toying with the idea of getting a pet pig.