Sugardaddy's 7

Chapter 1

The pain is agonizing and relentless. I look down only to recognize the jaws of a reptile clasped onto the head of my genitals. A scream of terror escapes from my mouth. I throw one of the Asian hookers whom I had copulated the previous evening into the water in aspiration to lure the reptilian beast away from my testicles. However, In my dismay, the predator which appears to be a crocodile does not go for the bait and leaves the thrashing prostitute alone. I believe it's likely her numerous STD's and Aids rumors were of that which repelled the reptile. It's hard to tell for certain if the animal with a grip on my junk is really a crocodile, as I have lost much blood into the water from the head and shaft of my penis.

Then I come up with the most ingenious idea that will no doubt free my genitals from the chops of the croc. I will try to insert my penis farther into the animals mouth and hopefully it deep-throats me so intensely it suffocates. "There's only one way to find out," I quickly contemplate to myself.

Unfortunately, I am lightheaded from the loss of blood so I must act fast. I grab the 8 inches of cock that are not currently between the crocodile's teeth and forcefully thrust it forward, farther into its throat. After a short moment of suspense, I hear gargling and gasping, and when I look down I see the croc struggling to stay afloat on the water. My gut reaction is that I had just slain a wicked beast who stole my manhood. But then I witness the croc cough up phloem, and among it is my penis, flaccid yet bold. It then swims away, in shock of what I had just done.

My genitals remain connected to my body, but barely. Numerous pubic hairs have been torn up, and teeth marks are abundant stretching down my shaft. Blood drips off the sides of my cock and I feel extremely drowsy from blood loss. The remaining prostitutes that stand aboard a fishing boat I had apparently rented while intoxicated the night before inform me that I should cover my dick with a bandage to prevent further bleeding.

"Thanks sluts," I say when one hands me gauze and a large band-aid the size of a footling beef frank. Normally I'm not too friendly to strange women who I barely know except through the form of intercourse, but I smack their asses anyways in gratitude. I then proceed to motorboat the breasts of the prostitute who handed me the bandage. I run my tongue along her cleavage, ignoring the pain in my now erect penis. Her boobs taste like lotion and citrus. I proceed to vibrate my lips and shake my head vigorously from left to right.

When I finish motorboating the hooker's breasts, the others start the engine of the fishing vessel and take us back to shore. They promptly call 911, and an ambulance arrives to take me to the nearest hospital. While inside, the crew of the ambulance looks at me as though they might nauseate at the sight of my lacerated cock. You would think someone who works in emergency healthcare would have a stronger stomach.

"You have nice tits," I say to the female nurse to my right. "Do you think you could blow me back at my trailer park once they fix my dick?" She gives me a look of disdain. I must be way too impaired to have a filter right now.

My name is Harry Crotch. But most refer to me as Sugardaddy. I am proud to say I am white with sky blue eyes. I would be considered aryan if it weren't for my combed brunette hair. Lanky yet toned, I make for an good athlete. My penis is 11 inches and my favorite color is orange. As for my profession, I switch between part time jobs of heroin dealer and pornstar. I had spent the majority of my life since I was 9 years of age having sex with strange women with large breasts and doing large amounts of nearly lethal exotic drugs. It's been great, until I was bit in the dick by a crocodile while fishing. I don't know if I'm going to live long enough to experience an aids-related death.
When I disembark from the ambulance, I am rushed inside a hospital on a stretcher with a patchwork cast on my penis. When the stretcher comes to a halt, I am placed onto an operating table surrounded by 3 surgeons in blue jackets.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck are we going to do? If this motherfucker doesn't survive, then I won't have enough to pay child support this month! Then Michelle will be 9 feet up my ass with a pitchfork. Dammit I should've worn a condom." One says.

"Well then hurry the fuck up. We don't have much time before he bleeds out," another surgeon replies.

In fear of what the doctor just announced, I proceed to shit and urinate into my denim jeans. At the same moment a black nurse hastily approaches me to take my vitals before the operation to repair my cock begins. She takes a good whiff through her nostrils the stench of my contaminated jeans.

"Da fuck... Did this white nigga' just seriously shit himself? I mean seriously, da fuck is his problem?" The black nurse remarks.

I am in too much shock to reply, but the surgeons yell obscenities with pinched noses and reluctantly rush to bandage my bleeding.
"If you muthafuckas don't hurry dat nigga gonna die with shit in his britches." Says the nurse. "That would be embarrassing as fuck."

"Yeah, no shit Ladasha," Replies a sarcastic doctor. "Do us a favor and take his vitals or shut up and grab us some fried chicken."

"Oh Hell no, da fuck did you just say nigga?" The black nurse sticks her fist into her deep cleavage and removes a Desert Eagle she concealed in her breasts. Ladasha then takes aim at the doctor and pulls the trigger.
I don't look to see the remains of the doctor. That's a lie. I watch the bullet propel its way into the skull of the surgeon who, in the meantime, is supposed to be operating on my penis wound to prevent me from bleeding out. I would scream at the surgeons to get back to work but I am too astonished at the sight of the deceased medic lying on the marble flooring.
His head is rested on a pool of blood that spans farther than his body. In it are brain chunks that look like cotton candy. His eyes are open, and between them lies the gash were the bullet penetrated from from the nurse's weapon. However, if one were to subtract the clutter of bodily fluids surrounding his head and neck, he looks relatively peaceful as his body is not contorted in every which way.

Ladasha turns around, and just like me the other surgeons are in too much shock and awe to have much of a reaction. She takes aim once more, and fires off rounds at the group in clusters. They drop to the ground almost in unison. Apparently black people have superior aim due to growing up in the wrong side of town.

It is then when I realize all the medics have perished. Moreover, it is then when I bleed out, and die for the first time in my life. The image of the black woman taking a gun out of her cleavage is one of the last memories I have before a tunnel appears with a white light at the end of the corridor, and I see my handsome body lying on the operating table with a bloody pelvis. My life of partying and having sex with beautiful women flashes before my eyes and I rise into the air and towards the tunnel. But my death is in no way the end. It is only the beginning.