Oral ∞ Unbound Ch.1: Introduction - Sex Stories

Oral ∞ Unbound Ch.1: Introduction

... wood.

Different day, same old shit. Wake up, eat, work, jerk off, play some videogames, do housework, sleep. Wake up, work. Sleep. Jerk off, videogames. Sleep. Work. Sleep. Work. It just never fucking ends. And as of last week, even the luxury of watching porn on your PC has been stripped from you. Your door didn't have a lock and wearing headphones was just an embarrassing parental conversation waiting to happen.

Why was losing access to porn so important? Because, hands in the air, you were a pervert. You know how there are dead life alcoholics, and then functional alcoholics who can hold a job with a clean cut appearance? You're a functional pervert. Normal guy, get's on well with everyone, no issues talking to women or holding down a job, but walk around at work most days with a full erection tucked behind the top of your pants. It's just harmless, and it feels good. You lean into it. It feels good to maintain eye contact with your female co-workers and making small talk whilst imagining them wearing heavy makeup, and you smearing your erection all over their face.

It's just harmless daydreaming. Chatting with a client, or that cute rocker girl at the corner shop, all the while imagining sliding your hand up her sweater, ripping off her bra and pushing her down onto your cock. It wasn't like your daydreams hurt anybody, and you weren't some psychopath that couldn't differentiate fantasy from reality. Truthfully, you just enjoyed fantasising about being able to ...

... use women's bodies without restraint or consequence. A reprieve from the endless drudgery of being a cog stuck in a late stage capitalistic society.

"Breakfast's going cold! I'm heading off, don't forget your open day," your sister Marie calls up the stairs. The clunk of the front door signals her departure.

So, yeah. You were still living with your parents. It's not like you hadn't tried moving out, but with rent skyrocketing and landlords snatching up every property within your budget, it had become depressingly obvious over the past year that you were never going to be able to get onto the property ladder without a serious life change. Working two jobs at the local garage and supermarket was just barely paying for rent, bills and groceries and so, with miserable realisation and no small amount of shame, you'd had to ask to move back in to your old bedroom. Your dad had been fine with moving the gym equipment back into the garage and letting you bunk for a few months. A boomer to a fault, it took a little convincing that times had changed, but at least he recognised that you were making an attempt. Your step-mother, on the other hand, was not so enthused about having a 'man-child leeching off our charity'. Fucking bitch. The very definition of a trophy wife, your father had hardly married again for her personality. She'd always resented you and Marie as the two of you had come from your father's previous marriage. Her daughter Rosalyn on the other hand, she doted on ...