Molly – Prologue
Introduction:
How I came to be who I am and meet Molly
Prologue
It happened by accident. But that is what they all say, right? I think of myself as a nice guy, but the list of those who would disagree gets longer every day. Every time I indulge the darkness within me, I end up with someone who despises me. It all started after my divorce. I was hurt by my ex-wife’s betrayal and I couldn’t think straight. At least that is what I tell myself so my conscience doesn’t eat me alive. Of course, that assumes I have a conscience. Based on what I’ve done time and time again I am not certain I do, or perhaps mine works differently than it is supposed to. I’m sure a shrink would have a lot to say on the matter, but I honestly don’t care.
After my ex used me and threw me away, I determined it would never happen again. I lived my life by three simple rules: love does not exist so seek lust instead, women only serve one function (as I knew how to cook and clean), and women are meant to be used and all of them crave to fulfill this base instinct. Since love was a figment, I determined that making love was useless. So I fucked the women I took to bed, as hard as I could and as much as I could. In the five years that followed, I proved these rules over and over again. I was astonished to find that the worse I treated these women, the more they loved it. I was brutally honest about my intention to fuck them and dump then, but it only seemed to drive them to take me to bed. Perhaps they thought they would be the one to “cure” me, but I wasn’t broken. I am an average looking guy, standing at 6’1” and was a bit on the heavy side weighing in at just over 235 pounds. But I rarely spent a night without getting laid except for my choice or I was sick. The longest I went without sex was ten days, and that was due to having the flu. I was rarely monogamous and would dump any girl who suggested it. Also, I never took a woman back to my place. I remembered how a friend in college would have women he had slept with show up at odd times and didn’t want that to happen to me. Plus I dislike sleeping in clammy, sweat-soaked sheets. So I always went to her place or paid for a cheap hotel. I rarely used my real name and lied about where I worked. Maybe it was a bit paranoid of me, but I could see one of my sluts showing up where I worked and making a scene.
Sometimes I would meet a woman who refused to admit her craving to be used like the cheap slut she was, but it happened so infrequently that I did little more than show my disdain for her before seducing another. I was addicted to finding and seducing women. I would then heap abuse and degradation on them until I grew bored and went looking for a fresh pussy or ass for my cock. The longest I was with a woman was five months before I grew bored. By then she did anything I wanted without hesitation, including forcing her husband to eat my cum out of her cunt or ass. As fun as that was to hear, I dumped her after having her star in a gangbang with over 20 guys, one of who was her husband’s boss. It was even sweeter when I took a nearly virginal innocent and turned her into a raving cum slut willing to do anything or anyone I desired. I loved shattering her precious world view and molding her into something her parents and friends couldn’t recognize. Where just the thought of my hot, sticky cum exploding on or in her was enough to make her weak-kneed and she had to have it at least once a week or would go crazy and she would beg me to fuck her senseless. I found out the hard way that virgins are simply too clingy and not worth the trouble they cause. I had to forgo my favorite bar for nearly a year after that encounter. I went after married women as often as I did single women. But after a run in with a very large, very pissed off husband I refused to fuck them at home, relying on cheap hotels or in a dark corner of the club where we met. I loved hearing them compare the way I fucked them with their husbands. I never used a condom with the married women, preferring to send them back home wearing or dripping my seed from their well fucked bodies. I refused to let them shower in the hotel, saying that I needed the hot water for me.
I found a kindred spirit in a woman named Cindy who not only knew about my seductions, but helped me lure fresh pussy to our bed. Surprisingly, I never grew tired of her and even came to carry affection for her. She was a bit miffed when I told her my real name and where I worked, but within an hour she was on her knees inhaling my cock. I loved the way she worshipped it like no woman ever had before. She would spend hours enjoying it before swallowing a giant load of cum or painting her face and breasts with it before scraping it up and gobbling it down. She loved my cock so much that she began sleeping with it in her mouth, leading to a great good morning fuck when I woke. Somehow, she almost always awoke before me and began displaying her talented oral skills until my eyes would open. I invited her to move in with me, to both of our surprise. I was truly happy for the first time in nearly a decade. She never pushed for more, and was quite content to enjoy what I was willing to give. After a year together, I collared her and was amazed to see how happy it made her . . . and me. We spent the next four months exploring each other’s desires and fulfilling each and every one of them. Sadly, she passed away in a car wreck. I was devastated. I had been in love with her, but had been too afraid to tell her. It is still one of my biggest regrets. Her friend, who we had a three way with several times, tried to seduce me a few weeks after the funeral and I threw her out of my house nearly naked.
I spent the next year drifting, trying to find another like her. But I couldn’t. I tried going back to my old ways, but it seemed hollow somehow. No matter how many sluts I fucked, or what I made them do, it was never enough. The sex was amazing as always, but it failed to alleviate the depression that always followed. A month after the funeral, I began to have trouble sleeping, so I started drinking until I would pass out. Had it not been for my best friend, Mike I would have most likely drunk myself to death. He moved in with me for a few weeks, crashing on my couch while I wallowed in my overpowering grief. Somehow, I made it. So I quit my job and went back to college to finish my bachelor’s. I took up running and lost the extra weight I had carried since high school now weighing only 185 pounds most of the time. I drop down to about 170 pounds when training for a big run. I am not lanky, though as I spend several hours a week lifting weights. I ran several marathons and was thrilled to finally break the 3:30 mark. I buried myself in work and tried to forget what I had lost. I stopped dating entirely and rarely went out as I did not want to be disappointed when the women didn’t measure up to my former love. I graduated cum laude and took a position at a local high school teaching physics and working as the assistant track coach, working mainly with the cross-country team. I had never coached anyone before, so I simply tried to show them that hard work paid off. I ran with them during every practice and I think I shocked some of them by keeping up with their pace despite being twice their age.
