Vice and Vacancy
#28 of Writing Group Challenge
This was for a writing challenge in a Telegram group I joined (link here if you're interested: https://t.me/joinchat/TXMB1RU1ETeKOakg). At just over a thousand words, we would write a short story fitting a chosen theme. The new theme for this week is, "Though you may try your hardest, success is never assured."
Once again set in my Resonance universe, this one explores more of the downsides of indulging in too much vice.
The last time we kissed? Five days prior during one of her 'extravagant' dinner parties, in front of her best friends and their hapless husbands. It was partly a show and only a millimeter worth of genuineness.
The last time we cuddled in bed together? The morning of this year's New Year's Day after we got drunk and retired for the night. Neither of us felt so comfortable and at peace despite the resulting hangover. It would've not been as bad if she didn't nag so much when we woke up. Who cared if I forgot to put the wine away?
The last time we made out? Our three-year anniversary, when the world seemed limitless with us together.
The last time we brought our own dates home? Thirteen years prior, not long before she got pregnant and suddenly decided our marriage needed to be exclusive. For the sake of our future kits and 'maintaining an image with the neighbors'. That was when she started to become distant and bitter, a vixen focused on her successful career while I struggled to get royalties from the last books I managed to publish.
The last time she sucked me off? Our ten-year anniversary, when I tried being romantic and she failed at being invested in the act. We barely even had a good orgasm afterward.
The last time we fucked? I could not remember. It had to be not long after our third kit was born.
It was a cold Friday in November. As Karen planned an opulent Thanksgiving dinner for both sides of our family in the days ahead, I'd been planning my own 'reunion'. I told the wife and our Cubs it involved an out-of-town writing guild meeting, which they never questioned. Nobody suspected what I did if it involved the guild I'd grown tired of attending each month, only that this one meant I needed to book a motel. The only thing Karen asked was that I be careful on the icy roads. She didn't even look away from her tablet.
This had been going on for some time. I couldn't tell you what finally compelled me to commit infidelity, but it all started when I fucked a load out of our neighbor's college student son, the day before they moved to Mountainburg. The thrill of her knowingly cheating and enjoying every second of it unlocked something inside of me. I had needs. The wife wouldn't put out. It was a simple solution as old as civilization itself.
The drive to my supposed 'writers guild meeting' brought me all the way to a small unincorporated village an hour and a half outside of Lakertown. Nowhere in the middle of Illinois. A few seedy bars, one understaffed grocery store, several storefronts, a den trailer homes, and a littered memorial park surrounding the most unassuming joint: a motel.
After pulling in the far end of the parking lot, I checked my phone for any unexpected messages, then confidently entered one of the rooms to find paradise on Earth.
The party already started. At the foot of the bed, a few familiar wolves surrounded Meg the Muskrat, the most popular whore who came to this bi-monthly shindig. The topless she-wolf who let me in returned to riding a nearby bull as he sat back in a recliner. Meanwhile, I slammed the door shut behind me, letting my coat drop to the floor as I stared at the feline twink staring back at me.
A leopard in his late teens, the only stitch of clothing the high school graduate(?) wore that night was this slutty pink thong. The dried cum on his right cheek revealed what he'd been doing. His silky golden and black-spotted fur combined with a luscious tail and a supple, spotted and curvy ass made him one of my favorite fucks. At each motel fuckfest and in general. Although we never traded names, nor did I ever plan to, given my occupation, his presence always made these nights spectacular.
We grinned with obvious boners. He blushed and momentarily looked away. Without a single word, I pushed him against the wall and pushed my tongue down his trembling throat. He whined like a purring engine, kneading his cold nose through my shirt into my nape.
For the first time in what felt like too long (our previous encounter had only been a month), I felt alive again. Simply put, these hookers knew how to do his job. After taking out my wallet and slipping him fifty dollars plus a single twenty for any shenanigans, the leopard pad went to town on my lonely dick. His rough tongues looked it up and down until my toes curled and my panting tongue drooled on accident. He thought it was cute and didn't relent even as one of the other college-aged wolves used his fingers to test how tight the pussy really was. Minutes later and the lad found himself spitroasted between me and the horny frat boy. What a lucky young man.
Ages ranged between high school graduation and middle-aged. The whores composed of five girls and one boy (the leopard lad), but for the most part, preferences didn't matter. There was only this electrify need to breed. Sweaty fondling and forbidden fornication. Then one of the college students pulled out a large bag of cocaine and everything went into a blur.
I remembered placing a line along my hardened cock, in need of release again after two loads (one with him and the other for Meg the Merekat), and compelling that teasing leopard to sniff it up as he bobbed up my length again. He easily complied, having already sniffed several lines already.
Good nights eventually came to an end though. Sometimes in unfortunate ways. We were so lost in the moment that nobody noticed the red and blue lights outside until there came a knock at the door.
My right leg was sprained after I slipped on some ice in the parking lot, and I had additional charges of resisting arrest and evading (or failing to evade) capture added to my rap sheet. Hours past as the morning arrived to my jail cell. What was the wife going to think? What were my kits going to think? Karen would definitely use this is the golden opportunity to finally divorce me, after all.
As I sat there in that jail cell, knowing I'd just fucked my life over, a revelation slowly dawned on me; You may try your hardest to keep stability AND be free to indulge your vices, but success in keeping both is never assured. Otherwise, it's better to prioritize one over the other. And I just threw away both.
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