Orpheus loved a woman named Eurydice. Eurydice was a total cum slut, and had always been one, but she was Orpheus’ cum slut, and no one else’s.

Orpheus also sang the blues, and carried a Marine Band harmonica in his back pocket. For the most part, he was famous for playing the flute. Orpheus was torn between his passion for his music and his undying love for Eurydice. This upset Eurydice. Eurydice thought Orpheus should think about only her, and should want him to be with her constantly. When Orpheus wanted to practice his flute one day after a big fight instead of fucking her to incapacitation, Eurydice said, “That’s it” and walked out. Never to be seen again.

Orpheus wandered the globe looking for her. In every dark haired woman he saw, from behind, he imagined it was her. But it was not. It never was. So Orpheus kept looking.

One day, Orpheus was really lonely, because he hadn’t seen his wife in years. He didn’t even enjoy playing his flute anymore, but he still had to, for the money it earned him. His music was really sad now, which his patrons couldn’t get enough of. All of it made him sick, and now he hated all people.

So he thought it was a good idea to go online one day and look at pornography. He did like some of the videos, especially the ones that reminded him of Eurydice. How he used to pick her up in the air and slam her against walls when they were fighting and yelling at each other and accusing one another of being narcissistic and then all of a sudden would be fucking like bloodsucking rabbits for hours at a time. He felt guilty about, it, looking at the pornographic films and photographs (not the rough fucking), and just had to touch himself. He came about every ten minutes or so for an hour. His penis hurt now, but he couldn’t stop. So he came a few more times, imagining doing the most horrible things to Eurydice, like grabbing her hair, tying her up, and peeing in her mouth. No matter what, he couldn’t sleep. And the visual porn had become kind of boring, and not graphic, or violent enough.

So Orpheus found a new place online with written stories, so he thought he’d click on that. He started reading some of the stories. Surprisingly, some of the people seemed to have some of the same names and details of the lives of him and the woman he loved, Eurydice. He read one story about a little girl that sounded like it could have been written by Eurydice herself! It turned out, Eurydice was really really famous on this underground pornographic literary site.

“Whew” exclaimed Orpheus. “At least she hasn’t been fucking other guys.” He thought about it: “There’s no way she could have written so much stuff under so many different names if she was fucking one tenth as much as the characters in these stories.”

Orpheus thought he could get Eurydice’s attention if he wrote a smutty enough story. One that involved fisting, pissing on innocent people, and stuff like that. But Orpheus just couldn’t do it. Orpheus really just liked to be honest, because it used less energy, and that helped him to relax easier. But, in order to post a story on this website, it had to have so many characters, that is, letters. Five thousand to be exact. And boy, that’s alot. Orpheus didn’t know what to do.

So he decided to just say what exactly was on his mind, and to use as many words as possible, which Orpheus didn’t like to do. Orpheus didn’t like to talk alot. He preferred to listen. Especially if it was Eurydice, who had the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. Eurydice cast her spell on Orpheus along time ago, singing songs for no one, just for herself, when she thought Orpheus couldn’t hear, by the brook. Orpheus loved her. Her sexy and melodious voice was in his head constantly. As was her perfect body.

Orpheus knew if he stopped typing the whole thing could crash. Everything he had typed so far would be deleted, so he just had to keep going. “Only three hundred and seven characters left to type,” he thought to himself. But still, there was no sign of Eurydice. Only Death.

The Lady Death. Orpheus wasn’t sure if Eurydice was actually death herself, that she only appeared beautiful and full of love for him. To be honest, Orpheus was confused about just about everything.

All the stories he was pretty sure Eurydice had written seemed to fly in the face of all the values that Eurydice herself had trained him to believe. As in considering Honesty to be important. She had also taught him to believe that Art was a complete shadow world, a total myth. To see his lover embracing facsimiles of life made him even lose faith in her!

Still, Orpheus went forward, and entered Hell. But Eurydice couldn’t be seen anywhere. Just a bunch of bodies wearing colorful underwear and all crying out “Mommy!” and “Daddy!” and just whipping each other.

So he decided to call out to all the people in there:

“Hey!

“I’m looking for someone named Eurydice. Has anyone seen her?” No one paid Orpheus any mind. Everyone just kept whipping and peeing and cumming on one another. ” Eurydice! Can you hear me?” Orpheus didn’t know what to do. So he did what he always did when he was scared and alone.

He played his flute. A slow song, with notes that seemed to last forever, song which told in a way words cannot, the tragic nature of love itself. A song that made everyone still, and quiet. Now that he had everyone’s attention, everyone except for a pack of gangbangers in the back, Orpheus spoke:

“I’m not a writer or anything like that. I’m just trying to get through to someone I love who may be lost down here. Where is the Devil?”

“We are all Kings here. We have no leader. God is a cumslut.” And everyone laughed.

Orpheus started again, “Ok, Whatever you do, if this bores you and stuff because there’s no cumfucking in my plot or whatever, leave now. By leave now, I mean, go read about cumfucking and piss on one another elsewhere. But I am looking for a person who is deep down an innocent person, and I want to protect her. If there is a hell, it’s sure to be this place. Go ahead, get your powertrip, hit the negative button, and feel good about yourself. Or leave now. Whatever.”

Everyone stayed quiet, and seemed sad.

“The person I’m looking for is sad and lonely. Her own father may have taken advantage of her when she was a young girl, and shared her with his friends. I am sad to hear about this. Her stepfather, Kyle, was grooming her it seems from infancy, and.,.”

Just then the one who spoke for them all interrupted, “Yeah yeah yeah. “Get out of here you stupid moralist. You’re killing our fun. You don’t know anything, you…”

As he spoke, I snapped my wooden flute over my knee and charged this man and stuck the two pieces into his throat. Blood was gushing everywhere now on my face and arms. Orpheus was sad to break his nice flute over this, but it had to be done. Then he continued:

“If it was over someone you loved, I am pretty sure you would be ready to kill whoever got in the way of protecting her. So you can all be a bunch of pussies and call the cops on me. Or delete my story. Or you can help me. I’m here for one thing. And no one else better try to stop me.

“The woman in question, Eurydice,” I continued, when everyone got quiet again, and they had removed the dead guy’s body away and were eating it amongst themselves, “seems to have made it very big in this smut world. Possibly getting several hundred thousand hits for her stories. She is a talented writer, and I believe it is time for her to transition out of here, and get into more lucrative publishing opportunities, telling the real story about life, and not a made up one. Getting bunches of hits from a bunch of creeps.”

In the corner, where Eurydice was getting gang banged by people she imagined were Orpheus and his friends and her own family members, she heard a familiar voice. Plus, everyone else was quiet now. But Eurydice could not stop the gangbanging, no matter what. What a little cumslut she was.

Orpheus continued, “Maybe she is doing it for the money. I cannot blame her there, and I hope she will be able to use the great skills she has mastered here to transition into more mainstream markets. If you hear me, Eurydice, you know who you are, and you know who I am. I won’t leave here until you with me. And with this Orpheus pulled out the harmonica he kept in his back pocket for situations like this, when his flute was too wet to play, or was broken into pieces that had been lunged into that dead guy getting cannibalized nearby, if there was even a body left. And Orpheus played that harmonica like it was the sweet peach nectar of Eurydice herself.

Eurydice recognized the music immediately, and knew it was the man that she really loved. She left the gangbang sesh, and ran to him, “Orpheus!” she cried.

They held one another in that den of theives, and wept.

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