Torn

“You have got to be kidding me?” slurred my inebriated, brown-eyed, trophy girlfriend and stomped a foot on the hardwood floor. Her name is Tina and she could be asurbic when drunk. To remain standing, she gripped the back of a leather dining-room chair with both hands and tried to maintain eye contact but couldn’t. Ever so slowly, her eyes rolled lazily in their sockets.

“I’m afraid I’m not,” I assured her from where I sat in my own leather chair at the head of the large, cherry table. I wasn’t drunk but had drunk enough to be mildly belligerent. “So, you might as well call an Uber and leave,” I finished.”

“But it’s so gross,” insisted Tina, ignoring the Uber comment, still unable to focus her heavily-lidded eyes. “Why do you want to? What’s wrong with my va va vagina?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your vagina,” I insisted. “I love your vagina. I just need more from time to time. I need to cum in your ass to be completely satisfied.”

“Why?” slurred Tina and had to sidestep to the left quickly to keep from falling down. Then she cleared her throat. “Don’t don’t don’t,” she stammered and waved her hands in front of her face in the international sign to just hold the fuck up there, pardner. “Don’t tell me you’re gay.”

I chuckled at the accusation. “No, I’m not gay.”

“It’s not funny,” slurred Tina and waved her left hand in front of her face again. “I’m ser ser serious.”

“I am, too,” I said with another chuckle.

Tina stomped her foot again, “It’s not funny. I wanna know why you want my ass more than you want my vagina. Don’t I keep it nice and shaven for you?”

“You do,” I confirmed, “but I need to cum in your ass occasionally to be completely satisfied. I can’t explain why.”

“Try me,” slurred Tina then spun the chair around and sat down with a grunt. “Go ahead and try me. I’d I’d I’d like to know why,” she finished and waved me towards her in the international sign of “come the fuck on.”

“There are various reasons,” I explained calmly, not sure how to proceed. How does one explain an ass fetish to an intoxicated woman?

“Lay it on me, bitch,” Tina slurred and managed a giggle, still unable to make eye contact. “Doesn’t it gross you out?” she asked then leaned into me and spoke in a hushed tone. “There’s poop in my butt,” she finished and sat up wearing a grimace.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes,” I started. “I’m aware of what’s in your butt,”

“Then then then why do you wanna stick your weiner in there?” asked Tina and scrunched up her face to show her distaste for my request.

“Because it feels like I would be cuming into your soul,” I said with a crooked smile, trying to make sense of my uncontrollable fetish, a fetish that has consumed me since my late teens. “I would become part of you as you absorb me into your soul.”

Tina scrunched up her face again. “And my vagina can’t absorb you? Your cum will swim farther up me than it will in my butt?” she finished and tapped her temple several times to show how she had it all figured out.

I had to admit to myself that she had a good point. Not sure how to proceed, I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s a fetish is all I can say. I have no control over it. The desire consumes me to the point where I think about it every day all day. It’s not something I want to do. It’s something I have to do.”

Tina leaned back in her chair and let her shoulders slump, still unable to maintain eye contact due to the bottle of wine she had at dinner. Ready to speak again, she cleared her throat. “And how often do you need to sodomize me to be satisfied?” she asked, resigned to her fate.

“Sodomize?” I asked.

“What else would you call it?” asked Tina in a much louder voice and spread her hands out wide imploring me to come the fuck on. “You want to sodomize me, don’t you?”

“Technically, I suppose I did but not now,” I said and shook my head. “I don’t expect you to crave the act but I can’t enjoy myself knowing that you’re miserable; knowing that you are feeling violated.”

“How else am I supposed to feel?”

“Like you are satisfying your lover,” I said gently. “Like you are fulfilling my needs.”

“What about my needs?”

“I’m willing to satisfy them as much as possible provided they don’t involve another man.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” said Tina with a smirk, thinking she’d gotten one over on me.

“That’s a deal breaker,” I said with another shake of my head. “That is a whole different ball game than what I want. My fetish involves just you. If you want sex with another man then you’ll have to count me out and find another man.”

Tina sat up straighter and thrust her nose in the air. “Maybe I will,” she said petulantly, thinking she had leverage even as I earned ten times what she did.

“Go ahead,” I dared her. “You know where the door is.”

Unable to focus, Tina closed her eyes. “Fuck you. You’re being unreasonable or whatever.”

“Then I don’t know how to bridge our divide. I respect your position and don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Tina leaned into me and lowered her voice again. “But isn’t it dirty?” she whispered. “My poop will be on your dick.” Tina sat back and grimaced again at the thought of what she said, eager to scuttle the talks.

“That won’t phase me,” I replied with a shrug. “That’s actually part of the fetish. It’s you. You are on me, the thought of which really makes me hard.”

“Do you have thought of fucking my ass?”

“Whenever you don’t spend the night, I jerk off thinking of your ass?”

“No,” replied Tina, incredulous at the thought of me jerking off over her ass.

I placed my hand over my heart. “Hope to die if I’m lying.”

“I hope so, too,” said Tina and laughed the laugh of the criminally insane.

The moment passed and we both sat in silence. I didn’t know what else I could say to finagle my way into my girlfriend’s little ass and I wasn’t about to beg.

Then Tina bowed her head and leaned forward in the chair. “I think I’m gonna puke. You make me sick,” she finished and swallowed hard. Then she was on her feet and heading for the bathroom off my bedroom.

Out of deep affection for my girlfriend and adhering to the boyfriend-code of conduct, I followed closely behind to hold her hair from getting puked on. Then everything she had for dinner, including an $80 bottle of Pinot, gushed from her mouth and filled the recently-scrubbed toilet bowl.

Discussing my fetish was over for the night. After several bouts of dry heaves, I wiped puke from Tina’s chin, had her rinse her mouth out, helped her blow her nose then carried her into bed and tucked her in. I sat in a chair near where she lay for a couple hours in case she vomited in her sleep.

Then finally satisfied that my mess-of-a-trophy girlfriend was out of the woods, I removed my clothes and slid in next to her knowing it might be the last time I ever did. I didn’t know how I felt. Mostly sad if I’m being honest. She had always been a good girlfriend. Loyal, funny and supportive, she would be very difficult to replace.

As such, I couldn’t force her to do something she found repugnant, but on the other side of the ledger was my fetish. In fairness to me, I didn’t want to stay with a girlfriend who couldn’t address my needs. I had done so before and grew to resent a former lover. Several former lovers, in fact. Eventually, I fell asleep, torn over what to do.

The End