Phil’s parting prophylactic present
If only I could think of more words beginning with ‘P’. Four is pretty good as far as alliterated story names go, right? This one takes place a month or two after last week’s story and chronicles yet another disgusting story involving our disgusting house mate Phil. Read last week’s story first for the full effect, or you can’t be bothered: Phil is a sadomasochist, into odd sex games, oozes ’sex pest’ness and has a teenage Asian girlfriend that he probably bought in the Philippines. As always, if you want more stories of this kind, head over to Lilu’s blog.
Enjoy. No, really.
We were cleaning his room, my housemate and I. It was the end of the year and Phil had finally packed his bags and checked out of our shared student house. Being a sadomasochistic, selfish prick he had of course left a lot of mess in the room: an unmade bed, a floor covered in hair, some odd socks strewn about — the usual. It took a while but the room was finally detritus-free and dusted, ready for its new occupant — me! — all that remained was to do some vacuuming.
In hindsight, after the anal beads incident, I probably should’ve thought twice before shoving the end of the vacuum under the bed. The odd, musky, fishy smell that had wafted around the room should’ve set all kinds of alarms off.
Hwwnnnksplttttt-rrrrrrrrrrrrr
That’s the sound of an unhappy sucking device (trust me, I know these things). Quickly turning it off, lest I blow up the mighty suction beast, I ask my house mate to kindly go and yank the obstruction out of the nozzle.
‘It’s awfully dark in here…’ She’s poking around, trying to get a grip.
I wait patiently, wishing the machine had a ‘blow’ setting so I could just… shoot it out! (Wouldn’t that be neat?)
‘I think I got it! It’s… squishy…’ There’s some kind of thwnkwn-splat sound as she finally pulls it out, the tip of it held between her fingers, the body of the rubbery receptacle slapping against her bare stomach.
Gulping, I look at her stomach. ‘Don’t look down!’ She looks at me, tears welling up in her eyes, fear, uncertainty and doubt all intermingling. Eventually she caves and looks down, and screams.
In between her fingertips is the tip of a condom and sloshed across her naked midriff is its rotten, yellowing contents. Phil’s final farewell gift delivered in a way more perfect than he could ever imagine.
She screamed again and ran to wash herself, notes of sickness tinting her warbling vocals.
I called out to her in the bathroom: ‘The worst bit is, I know where that condom is from, and you’re not going to like it…’
Let’s go back four weeks…
I can only assume that they hadn’t anticipated on anyone returning home before 2am, the usual club closing time.
I was stumbling home from university, alone and semi-inebriated. I remember being confused at finding both the ground floor bedroom and kitchen lights on as I approached the house — it was 1am, a whole hour after midnight snack time. I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Usually I would’ve sneaked upstairs cautious not to wake anyone that might be asleep. Instead, the fool that I am, I pushed the kitchen door open.
Whack!
They didn’t hear me as I tip-toed across the plastic floor and took a seat at the table.
WHACK! Ow, baby, harder…
I reached for the bottle of cheap red sitting on the table and poured myself a glass, my drunk eyes trying in vain to digest what was going on just a few feet away. Really, a nurse outfit, Phil? Latex?
WHACK! I know how you like it, big boy!
Looking up from the wine I finally decided it was unfair to let them continue. I was drunk, but I knew this was the kind of thing that would haunt both Phil and his girlfriend for decades — and inevitably: their children. Putting away my camera phone — what an evil, malevolent grin I had on my face — I called out to them.
‘Evening, Phil. Nice ass.’
His girlfriend stumbled, her downswing with the spiked paddle missing completely and hitting the kitchen sink. Turning around to look at me I could finally see the full extent of his child girlfriend’s plastic nurse outfit. If she had breasts, they would’ve hung out of the cut-away, plunging top. The skirt, the belt, left nothing to the imagination. My eyes followed down her short, knobbly, puppy fat-laden legs until I found a pair of black, buckled stilettos with very imposing, spiked heels.
I shook my head, trying to focus on Phil’s back and bottom. It was your usual, run-of-the-mill crotchless leather gimp suit. His buttocks were red raw, little bloody welts forming where the spikes on the paddle had repetitively hit the same spot and eventually broken his hairless skin.
But worst of all, hanging between his legs was his semi-limp penis still sheathed in a condom. And it wasn’t empty.
Back to the present…
My housemate rushes back into the bedroom and glares at me, her stomach and tank-top soaked through, her navel red from being scratched and scrubbed and purged of the disgustingly glutinous fluid.
Sometimes, she says, it’s better to not tell the entire story.
Related posts:
- The one with the child sex slave and the vibrating anal beads
- Etymology: -phil- (φίλος)
- Shared accomodation is great until your housemate’s mother watches you screw your girlfriend
Dear god. I feel all kinds of sorry for your old housemate.
June 4th, 2009 at 7:56 am…
June 4th, 2009 at 8:01 am*blink*
…
oh.
*sinks in*
that’s bloody brilliant!
bahahah
Ok, I read this aloud at work and just wanted to break the hushed, reverential silence to question my reaction.
It is totally not ok that I read it and thought “Oh that is so like Phil”…. is it?. I mean, it is good that the writing makes me think that I know him but still- I do feel somewhat odd that the” run-of-the-mill crotchless leather gimp suit” is just something “Phil wears” and the strewing of barrier method contraceptives just one of his little foibles. Ah Phil! what a hoot!.
And now, work.
June 4th, 2009 at 11:04 amI’m so glad I have you actually exhibiting empathy, Abi, not an easy task when Phil’s involved… I’m experimenting with various ways of telling stories and Phil just happens to be a very, very good subject.
Bless his little rubber socks.
June 4th, 2009 at 12:13 pmeuwwww yellow euwwww. seriously yellow??? euwwwwwwwww.
*running to the loo to vomit*
June 4th, 2009 at 12:34 pmYup, yellow. And very, very smelly — the room was actually being tidied because the smell had spread throughout the house…
June 4th, 2009 at 12:45 pmDunno if I’d want to move into that room after that…
June 4th, 2009 at 1:22 pmI needed the double bed… I just don’t fit on single beds. Legs dangling over the end gets very old, very fast. And very cold too!
June 4th, 2009 at 1:24 pmAnd not as good for guests?
June 4th, 2009 at 1:28 pmEeeeee.
June 4th, 2009 at 4:20 pmThat’s all I can say. Hahaha. I’m new to your blog, came over from Lilu’s place at http://www.livitluvit.com. Hope you don’t mind!
It is my pleasure to receive new visitors. Do stay a while!
June 4th, 2009 at 4:21 pmI, too, came from LiLu’s place.
June 4th, 2009 at 5:34 pmThis was a fantastic post. I spit coffee at my computer monitor laughing so hard.
If that’s not a rave review, I don’t know what is! *throws his hat in the air*
But do clean it off before tomorrow so that you can read the great post I have planned.
June 4th, 2009 at 5:36 pmOh dear. That’s gross. Your poor housemate. I’d have thrown up. In fact… I’m gagging right now.
June 4th, 2009 at 5:51 pmSeb–
Cleaning Phil’s room is rather like participating in a military suicide mission. I’m surprised a soiled prophylactic is all you encountered. I had thought the item stuck in the vacuum was going to be a long-deceased, semen-coated gerbil.
–Mr. Apron
June 4th, 2009 at 7:22 pmAll these buying Asian girlfriends thing made me vomit.
Why are Asian girls so big out there these days, and objectified? Don’t we have more skanky points?
Muahahaha.
Phil got class! ANd why didn’t you videotape it?
June 4th, 2009 at 8:09 pmoh my that’s just wrong. how did you get out of the whole poking around in the vacuum deal?
June 4th, 2009 at 8:17 pmOh damn. People need to throw that shit away. In the trash. Jeeeez. Why doesn’t anyone learn!?
June 4th, 2009 at 8:33 pmWell I thought it was just… something… a piece of paper or whatever…
I promise I didn’t know it was a condom…
It was actually in a bin, MiniD. But he’d left it in the bin — it had fallen out of the bin previous to this story (I talked to him afterward and found out what exactly had gone on…)
You know, Apron, I have many stories about Phil, but none of them involve small animals
Unfortunate, but… I guess he wasn’t THAT depraved.
June 4th, 2009 at 9:00 pmOh, and no, I didn’t videotape it, Andhari… sicko!
I bet Phil videotaped it though…
June 4th, 2009 at 9:01 pmeeewww, thats so wrong!!! Do you think he left it behind on purpose?
June 4th, 2009 at 10:19 pmHe did. Though it was originally left in the trash for us to find it, but it later ended up under the bed — God knows how, I guess the bin fell over — and then up the nozzle of the vacuum…
June 4th, 2009 at 10:39 pm……wow. i might have needed therapy after that. after either end, actually – after seeing that, um, scene, or having the rotted condom contents slosh on my stomach. excuse me while i go vomit.
June 5th, 2009 at 2:30 amYay! Another happy customer.
I’ll stay away from stories involving bodily fluids in the future I think… or perhaps be slightly less graphic…
I’ll have to experiment; find a happy medium.
June 5th, 2009 at 2:34 ami don’t even know what to say to that…
i know you don’t like short comments but my brain just kinda shut down. it must be trying to protect itself…
June 5th, 2009 at 3:59 amHow thoroughly disgusting! I would feel a bit uneasy about moving into a room that has obviously seen a mryid of horrors. For the first night at least sleep with the lights on, lest any other stray condoms come to life and find their way out into the open.
June 5th, 2009 at 5:02 amHoooolllly hell NO! Stale semen? Nast. Damn my vivid imagination! This scenario played out in my head like some kind of porno gone bad!
June 5th, 2009 at 11:47 am*gets his wrench out and looks at Zan*
Bad porno? Did I mention how big and bushy and curly my beard is at the moment? *swings wrench*
You know, Melissa, I was doing just fine — sleeping, that is — until you planted that little latex seed in my head…
June 5th, 2009 at 12:30 pmWhen you tell Phil stories I feel like I’m reading a sex stories web site. It’s disturbing.
Oh, and I obviously wouldn’t know what a sex stories web site would be like. I’m just assuming.
June 8th, 2009 at 6:22 amThat’s a good thing though, right? Variety is the spice of life and all that! One day a sex story, the next day a story about a girl on a swing…
I’m told erotica is even better for girls than boys, something about an overactive imagination. You should try it if you haven’t already…!
June 8th, 2009 at 11:32 am