Sloppy Seconds

Gigolo Crackwhore

Antoine was a ninety-two-pound anorexic masochist… and the most popular crackwhore in the leper colony. His asshole had been stretched wide enough to pitch a baseball through by his long list of clients with cocks fattened by growths and lesions.

An overzealous back-alley proctologist had widened it further in an attempt to surgically remove his hemorrhoids that involved an apple corer and a filet knife, leaving his anus gouged out — raw and pink — like a half-eaten ruby-red grapefruit. The only plus was that the constant irritation of a prolapsed anus was now all but a memory. He could now take two cocks in the same hole without so much as a grunt. D.P. in a leper colony was no small feat.

Now, sex with Antoine was like stirring a bowl of chili with a toothpick. However, the sluggish, steady leak of excrement and semen from his distended, vandalized anus like a river of melted s'mores did little to detract from his charms.

"Come on, baby. Let's get to fuckin'!"

Antoine rolled his eyes and joined his septuagenarian trick on the bed.

His client, Mikey, was one of the oldest fuckers in the colony. At seventy-six, he had so much nerve damage from decades of leprosy, infected appendages that had been rotting for months with gangrene literally dropped off of him during sex. Luckily, Antoine was used to it.

Mikey popped two Viagaras and a heart pill and began stroking his misshapen cock to an erection. There was a wet chafing sound as sores and blisters ruptured, leaking blood and pus between his fingers while his palsied hand busied itself trying to raise the dead. Finally, his withered cock — which resembled some sort of wounded sea slug — began to stiffen and elongate in the old man's hand.

"Come on now, youngin,' suck my cock! Suck it like you love me!"

The ancient john's bulbous dick was festering with an advanced case of syphilis and the length of his member was pockmarked with raw, bleeding sores, blossoming like infected bullet holes and leaking a stream of clear liquid that smelled like last season's still-hidden Easter eggs. Syphilis had likewise rotted his nose off, leaving a ragged crater oozing snot over his mouth.

Mikey's eyelids blistered with a cranberry cluster of herpes sores, as did his anus and scrotum — resembling the inside of a pomegranate and swollen to the size of naval oranges. His mouth was so full of herpes that he could barely speak, and his tongue looked like some kind of pork rind. The few teeth that remained in his rotting maw were black with tartar and cratered with cavities from smoking meth and eating Twinkies. His breath smelled like he flossed with roadkill.

Antoine felt as if he were about to fuck something from a Brian Keene novel or a George Romero film. Mikey looked like he missed his own funeral, wandering around with his gangrenous erection and waiting for someone to take enough pity to cremate him.

Such was the state of politics in the colony that this old, perverted corpse was both the town mayor and the church's most respected member. Antoine had once given the diseased fossil a blowjob in the confessional booth. Afterward, he promptly washed his mouth out with holy water while stammering his "Our Fathers" and "Hail Marys."

Mikey had once been over six hundred pounds and, though he'd lost the weight, folds of loose, wrinkled skin hung in long, billowy sheets from his body, turning his arms into bat wings and his torso into a sagging avalanche of flesh. In order to get to the man's penis, Antoine had to lift the long flap of skin draping from Mikey's belly down to mid-thigh and duck under it like he was crawling beneath a blanket. The skin enveloped his head as if it had been submerged in a vat of flesh-toned taffy.

Antoine hyperventilated as the meaty perspiration and body heat created a stifling sauna, choking him with body odor and humidity. He struggled beneath the hood of skin, trying to move it aside, while gasping for air and growing more claustrophobic by the second. Finally, he tossed the skin to the side and sucked in a huge breath like a drowning man rising from the water, exposing the man's deformed organ to the light of day.

Antoine slid his mouth over the old leper's cock and felt herpes pustules exploding in his mouth like bloody zits. The organ unsheathed as he went down on it, the skin sloughing off like a used condom and gathering by the man's scrotum. As his mouth traveled back up the cock, the skin went with him, disengaging from the penis and slipping down Antoine's throat like a raw oyster.

Antoine had but three choices: spit, swallow, or gag. The fetid remainder of foreskin was usually not the substance in question when those alternatives arose.

He swallowed the lumps of flesh, trying to convince himself that it was some foreign delicacy that a millionaire would pay thousands of dollars to consume like caviar or blowfish. It did have the texture of raw calamari.

He continued fellating the man's swollen flesh, which was now naked of all skin and glistening an angry red — slickened with blood and saliva. His lips and tongue bounced over the herpes blisters and leprosy lesions as he took the decaying meat down his throat, sliding it past his tonsils with the practiced ease of a sword swallower.

The old fucker was now sitting up in bed, hunched over Antoine, hissing and wheezing as if on the verge of cardiac arrest and drooling on the top of Antoine's head as he tried to work. The man's lips had rotted off long ago, so he couldn't help the drooling or that perpetual idiotic grin. The ragged void where his nose had been was leaking dollops of snot that plopped out of his nasal cavity and onto Antoine's head, dribbling down his face as he continued his vain attempt to bring the nerve-damaged cock to orgasm.

Leprosy had deformed it with large tumors, giving it the look of a megalomorphic summer squash and making it feel like some sort of medieval French tickler as it thrust in and out of Antoine's throat. Antoine was trying hard to keep his mind on business when Mikey's left eye popped out of his skull and slid down Antoine's forehead.

A violent orgasm ripped through the geriatric leper, shooting a tacky, viscous stream of semen — thick and curdled like warm yogurt and seething with a cocktail of STDs and microscopic parasites — down Antoine's throat along with the misshapen gland of his cock, which popped off like a mushroom cap and lodged in Antoine's throat, clogging his air passage.

Mikey was quick, jumping up as Antoine began to turn blue, and clasping his hands around his waist from the back. He dug both fists into Antoine's stomach in a desperate Heimlich maneuver. Antoine had almost lost consciousness when several quick thrusts dislodged the head of Mikey's cock from his throat and shot it across the room in a spray of blood, saliva, and dick snot.

Mikey picked the head up off the floor. The thing was infected so badly with herpes, syphilis and gangrene that it was black and purple and smelled like a used diaper. He tossed it onto the bed next to Antoine, who was still trying to catch his breath, along with a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the tip," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Antoine glared back and then stuck out his tongue which fell out of his mouth onto the bedspread.