Message-ID: <12655eli$9807022341@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: dez187lm@hotmail.com (H.D. Meister) Subject: {ASSM} Story: Fix - fix.txt [1/1] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6neur0$1br$1@solaris.cc.vt.edu> Greetings. Here is another story from the Mind of H.D. Meister. If you are not at least 18 or live in a community which does not allow adult material, DO NOT READ THIS. Post freely, archive and critique as you will so long as the work is not altered in any way, you do not gain a profit from my work, and all due credit is given to the author: me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fix By: H.D. Meister (dez187lm@hotmail.com) Rehab. What a joke; there's not one doctor trained to combat the sickness I gave myself. Smith and Wesson have a cure, but that's illegal. Only if I get caught, and with my luck I will. You are the sickness. I shot myself up with you every time I fucked you or you blew me. And I enjoyed it as surely as any other addict enjoys their first high. The first high; after that it becomes a matter of not going down. I lost the will to live because of you. I became just another fiend because of you. Substitutes wouldn't do, and I tried hard. Quitting cold failed. I was an addict for life. And you knew it. That's why you left me. I can hear your laughter when you pass by me. You enjoy the pain which rips me apart. it's more than my dick could ever give you. I can remember every movement of your cunt as you rode me. The smell of your cunt makes my mouth water. The hunger claws at my nerves to the point where I cannot even hold down a job. And still you laugh. I should have known better. I knew what would happen when I met you that night at the bar. You were looking for a dick to fuck and I was too drunk to care what I fucked. I was lost long before I fucked your dry cunt. You didn't care about me; those words were only meant to keep me there. I fucked every hole you offered me. Cunt. Mouth. Asshole. I rammed my dick into your asshole with one stroke... AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN MOAN!! And all I could think about was getting laid. I should have thought about how I was fucking myself. How many others walk the streets like I do know? How many others sit in some sheltered corner and rock themselves to sleep muttering to God to deliver them from the oblivion you placed them in? How many halves of children have dies in you asshole? Your cunt? How many have you swallowed and digested? How many have you used for food!!! How many have died on the dry, lifeless desert of your tits? Ass? Stomach? You don't even care. All that matters is that another come and join me in my suffering. That is all that matters to you: the next fix. You need us as much as we crave you. A few will rise above it, but they will always be addicts. There will always be that single nerve inside of them that needs you. That's your pleasure. You know it. They know it. But I won't suffer anymore. Dead, I'll just be another meal for the worms. You will have won, but I will win also. I will walk this Earth and warn others to stay away from you. The cleanest addict ain't an addict. Then where will you get your fix? (dez187lm@hotmail.com) -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----