Curse of Carnality

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Table of Victim Profiles

This is to be used as a reference for those who are considered main characters whether considered protagonist or antagonist.

Derwin Cartwright (Husband)

Skin: Chocolate

Height: 5’9″

Weight: 240 lbs — 205 lbs

Physique: Pudgy Endo — Stocky Endo

Race: Black American

Age: 40

Occupation: Senior Data Analyst

Miriam Jackson-Cartwright (Wife)

Skin: Light Brown

Height: 5’7″

Weight: 120 lbs

Physique: Athletic (Natural)

Race: Black American/English

Age: 39

Measurements: 34B-18-20

Occupation: Vice CFO

Sophia Ramirez (Miriam’s hated rival and coworker)

Skin: Caucasian

Height: 6’0″

Weight: 130 lbs

Physique: Athletic Ecto

Race: Mexican

Age: 30

Measurements: 36D-28-36

Occupation: New Hire for Vice Position

Taya Thibodeaux (Miriam’s Best Friend)

Skin: Hickory

Height: 5’7″

Weight: 150 lbs

Physique: NBT (Nuttin but Thicc)

Race: Jamaican

Age: 39

Measurements: 32A-36-40

Occupation: Head Nurse

Yasmina Jackosn-Briggs (Miriam’s Cousin)

Skin: Light Brown

Height: 5’6″

Weight: 250 lbs

Physique: Fat Slob with Ass

Race: Black-English

Age: 37

Measurements: 46G-55-60

Occupation: Security Guard

DV — Devious

HG — Hunger

CT — Contagion

DE — Death

Curse of Carnality

Prelude: The Call

We mount, we ride, we conquer! -DV

Our ride will not be deeeeniiiide. -HG

Whoo! This ride is addictive. -CT

Ride And Die. -DE

Broken

Five years, five months, ten days, nine hours, thirty-three minutes, and forty-nine seconds.

The Time Of The End. -DE

*Clangk!!!* [sound of two swords clashing at the blades]

That was my e-mail notification for when I get mail. The subject lone read: Loving Wife. I had seen enough porn tags to recognize what those words mean. That email contained material that changed my life forever. I clicked to open the folder, and inside it contained exactly: one 10-minute video, thirty photos, and one audio file. I should have deleted the email. I should have chosen to live a life of ignorant bliss, but I am a masochistic fool that wanted to see the truth even though I knew what was inside. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

I tip-toed to my twin daughters’ room; they were fast asleep in their dreamworlds. I walked back to my office, put on my headphones, but kept one off my left ear, and played the video file. The video was one of those smart phones recorded types. The picture shakes with the tiniest of movement. You only see the skin of the derriere at the beginning, but I heard the voice, and immediately my heart sank and drowned. To make it worse, I saw the tattoo, a rainbow diamond on the left side of her ass, plain as fucking day.

My wife’s grunts and groans with every backshot infuriated me further and further with every passing second. Sometimes I would notice exaggerated reactions, hoping at least she was massaging her partner’s ego. That glimmer of hoping this was only a fuck. Ten minutes without pause I watched my wife’s full-figured, athletic rump, flat stomach, thick thighs, and small breasts be animated in numerous positions.

I became sick after the first viewing. I ended up retching in my office’s toilet and vomited again when another blast of my wife screaming, “FUCK ME HARD!!!” resounded into the bathroom while I was hunched over. Left the damn thing on repeat. I crawled back to the desk chair and sat up. I clicked on the pictures realizing there were probably hundreds taken, and those thirty sent to me were specifically chosen for my benefit/torment.

“Look into the camera ho!” The unseen assailant hollered and demanded.

I cringed at how she lifted her face without reserve, knowing how slutty she revealed herself to another man and whoever else. Legs spread, pussy splayed, breasts pinched, ass up and out; the combinations swirled in my brain.

I must have stared at that audio file for twenty minutes before I gained the nerve to open it. I press play. The bastard left the icing on the cake, whispering into the microphone like he was some villain out of a comic book.

“Yeeeessss, your wife is taken care of muthafucka. Heh, heh, heh! She aint yo’s no moe. Ha, ha, ha! The sad thing is, she approached me with this shit. Hee, hee, hee!” The fucker guffawed mercilessly.

I sat another hour in that chair, numbed to the world before getting up and going to my bedroom. Looking over my wife with a hatred rising to boiling and falling to a below zero temperature. At the end of it all, I did nothing, but lied down on my side of the bed not sleeping the entire night.

Self-Inflicted

Two years passed and I wear masks with shit-eating grins on my face performing my husband-like duties, biting my tongue more than ever, and fighting back gag reflexes every time Miriam and I get close to each other intimately, demetevler escort which was few and far in between. The only thing I look forward to is being with my daughters. In fact, I have had more fun than I thought possible just getting to know them.

Today, or the fateful day, this “mask” will shatter to pieces.

The four of us are out and about as a family. I suggested this food truck festival in the afternoon. It is perfect, the feeling of actually loving my wife without distrust fogging up my senses. Laughing and smiling as we interact together with our twins.

I am in line buying a family size nacho at a food truck when that laugh, that horrendous guffaw rings in my ears. A sound so distinctive that no matter how long time goes by it is like it was a few seconds from the first time I heard it. I turn around with a strain trembling of anger, and there, the Fucker is. Exactly how I would picture him- a pig-bastard, dressing like he some thug from the 90’s.

My jaw tightens, my fists clench, and my body quakes with unfathomable animosity. All I have to do is swing, and vengeance would be mine by knocking out every gawdy gold tooth in his goddamn mouth. My kids yell for me right on time, and their voices snaps me out of my bloodlust. All I can see is red and trying to control my breathing. I walk back to our table in a haze with the order. I help Miriam set up our table and the feeling of betrayal washes over me again, and the fog, thicker than before, returns, reminding me of Miriam’s slut-ass, disgraceful, and deceitful ways.

I awake this morning lacking any feeling of tired or refreshed. I do not remember falling asleep. I do not rub my eyes, do not groan myself awake, just open my peepers, and turn my head towards Miriam. I do not see much of Miriam anymore. How well Miriam rests without a care it seems. That does not alarm me, instead it is my realization that I do not consider Miriam my wife, barely even the mother of my children. I rise having no forgiveness in my being to what Miriam had done, and how she exposed herself. I get up and walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and I look into the mirror.

“Disgusting weakling.” I curse myself

KRRIIIAAASSSHHH!

“What the hell?!” Miriam screams out of her sleep.

“I broke the mirror by accident. I’ll get it replaced.” I said like a programmed robot with blood dripping from my hand, still looking into a shattered reflection of myself.

“You damn well better! Jesus Christ!” Miriam complains. I listen to Miriam’s hysterics; inside I have a perverse smile on my face as if watching a drama on some cheesy Broadway musical.

I sanitize my hand, then walk out to the garage. I look around, and immediately move the cars out as my first decision. Miriam comes out screaming her head off. I ignore Miriam’s rantings and ravings as I bring all my workout equipment from the backyard house. I have not used any of this equipment for years. I had given into Miriam’s incessant whining and yelling about my own equipment, I purchased, even when I kept it contained to my side of the garage.

A couple of hours go by, and I finally set up the place the way I want it. The sandbag being the center piece.

“Are you finally done with your pet project? Get this out…”

“You touch any of this, and you will find your car on bricks one day.” I interrupt with amorous effect. My twins are next to Miriam trying to see what is going on. Nosey little imps.

“And do not have the girls do your dirty work for you either.” I warn. Miriam fusses and walks back in with the twins.

I launch one, hard, loud punch to the bag to test it. POW!!!

“Perfect.” -DV

Days go by and every one of them I spend my free time in the garage. It feels as the only place I can think, or deal with the voice in my head. It is not loud, for now anyway, just terse and perverse in its linguistics. From the time I set my daughters down for bed to 12, or 1 in the morning, I work out. I suppose my “workout” allows me to be near the cheating wench no more than I must.

Miriam comes into the garage and tries to distract me, but I would simply look at her in silence, and then continue my physically strenuous solace. Miriam’s ploys consist of random chats and jargon about her day or complain about how I do not spend “quality time” with her like before.

“This shit needs to end. You’re scaring our children.” Yes, Miriam tries that blaming tactic on me. I already asked if my routine was bothering the girls. They did not say they were scared, but I understand why they would not if they were. Daddy can get pretty loud and one-track into his routine.

My workout is not rocket science. Meaning, I do not have an end-goal or any goal of any kind. For now, it is physical training or self-afflicted punishment if you wish to call it that. Either way, the pain-n-relief/pleasure, cause-and-effect is good enough for me. My workout comprises of calisthenics with sets to failure. This includes pushups, otele gelen escort sit-ups, squats, and pullups. I always end with beating on the sandbag. At first, I am very methodical in my movements then I become downright animalistic to the point of drooling like a mad dog as I clobber the bag.

Once done, and satisfied with my labors, I go inside, and have my shower. My body is sore and aches with incapacitating pain every day, but to be honest, at least it feels real. I fall asleep quickly, because I exhaust myself even though I will be getting up at 6 am for work.

One month passes. Physically: I have lost weight, maybe trimmed a bit. Me and Miriam had sex once, well, if you call me driving my dick into her without emotion, sex. Would not classify it as a fuck even. Applied physical endeavor? Miriam came of course, slut-whores always love a flesh tool rammed into them. I faked mine telling Miriam I came, and then fall asleep to not discuss anything further.

I… have not released in over said month. Jacking off not so much a need anymore. I try to get into the mood, but at present, I find porn to be tedious. Searching for the right stimulant, time to build up the fluid, the focus to remain on task; there are too many factors for ten seconds of alleviation.

“You know, you should turn the slut bag into a worn out cocksleeve.” -DV

This is that voice I have been talking about. It comes around every so often wanting “satisfaction”. Me fucking Miriam that one time, was I giving in to that voice? I question my methods even more now.

While Miriam came damn near ten times, I get a fake one for my troubles. Chalk up another win for the slut-wife of the year, and cuckold husband.

“Hey, don’t do that. You ignoring me will only make this worse. You are due for a fuck-the-corrupted-soul-into-oblivion session. Look, trust me, just get over this abstinence way of thinking and you’ll have the clarity needed to truly savor your indulgence. I mean, the kids will be visiting the grandparents. What better time…?” -DV

“Shut…the…fuck…up.” I continue my workout.

Three months pass and I start to feel the effects of buildup syndrome (not releasing) and fucking but not releasing. Each time, which was three sessions, I fucked Miriam into a stupid or delirious character. Seriously, Miriam either could not answer a simple question, or drooling from her hydra venomous mouth and basilisk pussy with her eyes rolled up into her skull. Every time I leave Miriam in her dumbfounded condition, I hope she chokes on her froth or forget a breath.

Well, one good thing happened, my physique has altered. My center or core, whatever you want to call it, was once a beer belly, it is now a perfectly crafted barrel, flatter but no sixpack, but I am fine with that, I like my stocky, stoutly build. My arms are not cut but thicker and harder. My once lack of definition legs shaped into two tree trunks. The soreness never goes away either, but I will live with the pain. I require a good stretch throughout the day now for a more comfortable experience of life. I added running to my routine, started off easy with a mile. Have to keep the ticker working smoothly.

People at my job have taken notice, better yet, intimidated. Fine with me, I have adopted a work only mentality since the great betrayal anyway. Perhaps, due to my hard work and conviction, I am due for another session. Then again why should I waste a potentially good-as-fuck nut busting on Miriam. Still, splattering Miriam’s face with a shotgun blast of cum sounds invigorating. “Ha, like cannon-blast feeding a sad clown for its dessert.” I muse to myself. I do not like clowns.

I planned a few days off without telling Miriam. Just in case the first go around is a failure. I get up as usual and prepare my children for their school day. Miriam and I try to be more civil in front of them, which is her talking up a storm of meaningless commands to me, and I fake smile as hell agreeing to her demands. After getting the twins on the bus and Miriam leaves, I do an early stretch for over an hour. Feeling my body limber up gets me in the mood more.

“Yessss. That’s it. Feel that power, don’t you? Feel how heavy your dick is, how full your balls are. It…Is…Time!” -DV

“Not helping!” I say out loud, but the voice is right. My stretching leads to me stripping with my dick saluting straighter and stronger than a steel bar. The veins pulse and color-less seeds drop to the floor like something out of a xxx cartoon.

“I am ready!” I go into my office, leaving a trial trail of ball sweat and tip juice me, and open my browser to a porn site. Anything will get me off by now, I just know it. I stroke myself and every pump releases a liquid deluge. “I’m fucking there! Release me, Goddamnit!”. I cry out for mercy.

“See, you are right there. Come on, don’t you want to feel that surge of life?!” -DV

Countless pulls and a wet spot covering my feet later. “Fuuuuck! This…is…not…working!” balgat escort I inhale and exhale like a madman. Then that god forsaken laugh comes into my head. I scream with an unholy howl as I walk back into the den area where Miriam is staring at me with a fearful look. Must be the hellfire in my eyes.

“Derwin! What the fucking hell?! Why are you howling like some damn mutt?! Why the fuck are you home?!” Miriam screams bloody murder.

“Enough!” I roar. I bound towards Miriam quickly like a feral beast. Miriam swings at me, but I take the hit to my jaw squarely and pin her down on the ground. My dick pulsates on Miriam’s stomach, still dripping like a leaky faucet.

“Derwin! Get the hell off of me!” Miriam struggles.

“What’s wrong? I thought you enjoy being taken.” I counter with the true intentions of a pervert.

“Not like this!” Miriam screams her confession with contempt.

“Yes! Now, the bitch is ready! Before it was all about her! To shut her the fuck up. You had to pretend that you still want her, crave her. Now, she is truly afraid. Take…Her!” -DV

“Fuck no.” I sneer disgustedly. I get off Miriam and look down at the façade that was once my wife. My eyes filled with a hot blaze, my dick straining with a flaming soreness of a contained blast, and my emotions running cold. Miriam does not deserve that from me. No, Miriam deserves nothing for her treachery.

I turn to leave, and Miriam begs me to fuck her. I look back down at Miriam. So low, so unrefined, just the way Miriam needs to be. Now I am ready to be served.

I grab Miriam by her pressed hair and bring the servant’s lips to the tip of my angry dick. Miriam kisses it, and then I drive it into her mouth. Dick mongers do not merit foreplay. Miriam’s eyes bulge, and she coughs up phlegm; the bubbly solvent shoots out the sides of her mouth. I batter Miriam’s lying, deceitful mouth and throat with a steady pace. I feel the dewy bubbles of pre-cum fill Miriam’s dick-eater slowly.

Miriam finally pushes off me gagging on the floor and vomiting her breakfast bar and smoothie.

“I…*haaaack!*…said…*haaaack!*…ugh…fuck me.” Miriam protests weakly.

“One hole down.” I say bluntly. I turn Miriam’s face away from me. I pick Miriam up easily and shove the bar in her vagina. Miriam tries to handle the initial stick within, but failure is an understatement.

“Aaargh. Fuuuuuck!” I leave the fuck stick in, filling Miriam up. I know it is torture, and Miriam tries to buck me off, but my stance and strong grip allows her no leeway.

“Come on, fuck me already! Why are you playing with me?!” Miriam cries out, nearly in tears.

Pathetic. Good dick always wins in the end against weak pussy. I pull out, very slowly until the tip of my sausage touches her front door lips.

“What…” I go back in with crashing force. “Eeeeeee!”

I pull out once again, exactly the same as before. “Stop teasing…”

“I aint fucking teasing.” I sonic boom Miriam’s mess of a cave pussy once again.

“Feeeeeuuuuuck!” I pull out again. Miriam looks back at me silently, and meekly.

Finally, the face of powerless docility I always wanted. I reset, aim the missile, launch, and hit my target in one attack.

“Deeeemmiiiit! Again, again, again, again!” Miriam demands sobbingly. I obey and feel disgusted all the same for doing so easily.

One hundred accurate and precise shots of my strategically aimed weapon and Miriam orgasms while spiraling into ecstasy, barely able to remain standing. Out of sympathy, or a gesture of it, I walk Miriam to the couch with my steaming wrath engorged by her clenching trench and place her over the arm rest. I raise a leg onto the couch’s arm and piledrive straights into the black widow’s womb.

“Goddammit… Goddammit… God…Damn…It! Please cum in me!!! I want to feel that dick fill me all the way the fuck up!” Miriam beseeches. I do not listen to Miriam’s desire. My dick has been dropping my essence into Miriam this whole time anyway. Now Miriam cares if I nut because she cannot handle my power and precision? The cheating bitch continues to disrespect me.

“You…”

Pow. “Ugh!”

“Don’t…!”

POW. “Fugh!”

“DERSERVE…”

POW! POW! “Megh!”

“Thisssssss…”

POW! POW!! POW!!! “Gugh…” Miriam regurgitates a cup full her inner demonesses on a couch cushion.

“BREAK THE FUCKING GATES!!!” -DV

“Waaaaaaveaaaargh!” I bellow with all my might.

“CUUUUURRGGGGMMMMGH!” -HG

To say that I came, is quite the understatement. I whitewashed Miriam’s insides. I filled Miriam over the brink, and then splooge the rest on her back and ass. I leave Miriam like a wet bed sheet on a clothesline over the arm rest twitching in her nauseated state because of overflow and overstimulation. I finally achieved my release, and my dick goes back to “normal”.

“Finally, you handled that ho righteously. Surely you won’t be hearing too much of the whore’s drivel for a while. Now…WHO’S next?” -DV

“Next? You suggesting that I do to her what she has done to me?” I talk out loud while looking at Miriam’s deflated figure.

“Eye for an eye, cock for a pussy.” -DV

Miriam’s phone rings. It says job and then I turn to Miriam. Miriam remains too far gone; she can’t even go into a sex coma to recuperate I fucked her up so bad. I answer the phone, using Miriam’s cum-possessed face.

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