An all male polyamorous relationship formed from the extremely small and shrinking audience of a mentally ill french woman is not one that was built to last. Consider, indeed, the life of the common spark: spawned from hot flame, it streaks brilliantly against the backdrop of dark sky, before suddenly disappearing altogether. I'd like to compare that to the wonderful thing I was a part of, if only for the short span of its life. To call it love would be dishonest, and perhaps that hurts the more romantic aspect of my soul, but it is true. It was simply a matter of lust, at least, that's how I felt at the time. And a matter of gay sex. That part is more important. Did you forget that part? This is about gay sex. Hot Gay sex. Man, I love men. Haha. Get it? Anyways.
The procedure behind it, referred to as the ritual by the more zealous among us, consisted of three steps. First, we'd congregate in the server chat while the shrill frog witch was away or sleeping or wasting her likely short life some other way, and then... we'd start. Shirts were removed. Oil was applied. Muscles were flexed, and enjoyed by muscly men. Really oily, muscly men. Lots of oil. Honestly, in retrospect, too much oil. Sandwhich literally filled a bathtub full of olive oil and showed it off with the camera on. Honestly, it sort of took away from the whole point of the interaction. Like, I'm looking to cum not to wash my entire house from grease for the next month. Really annoying. Ruined Italian food for me too. I went to the olive garden with my girlfriend and I literally had to stand up and walk home because of how hard I was. Really horrible stuff, like overdosing on viagra. Second, now that we were pumped, done puking, and taken enough Klonopin to forget what was about to happen, we would take it outside.
We'd meet up at the local McDonald's, fuel up. Cheap meals mean big thrills, at least that's what Int said. In all fairness, I'm pretty sure they didn't have a job, but I was too busy with a disgustingly too big, I mean just ridiculously big, like furry porn art of a dragon fucking a car levels of Penisousity full length dick in my mouth to ask. I mean, real horrible stuff. Like, I need therapy for this, but I would never be able to tell a therapist. I'm damaged. I'm damaged goods. I'm afraid of going to sleep at night now. I haven't had a good second of my life since then. I'm probably going to kill myself soon, but I don't want to go to hell for the things I did just yet. I'd like to see Dubai, I heard it was built with slave labor and I LOVE THAT SHIT. Gets me even harder than Heiwa's feet. Real gross stuff, real terrible stuff. I hope God's not real. Third step was a MLM wet dry laundry machine mating press omegaverse Mpreg Yaoi full Johnson Halo Reach Lobby Chat level of white hot gaylove. It was beautiful. It was perfect. But it was unstable.
After the most recent ritual had closed, we all went home happier and three pounds lighter. I logged back in, and enjoyed a quieter evening of lying to my eight wives about where I was. I was almost high with the exhilaration of the previous hour. So much so, that I fell down quite a ways when I saw my phone ring with a notification. Nejiko. Nejiko messaged. Play it cool. She doesn't know. She can't know. I read the message.
"how long did u think i wouldnt know????" Fear overtook my bones, much like how the men from earlier had, but with boners as opposed to bones. Like, their boners overtook my boner and vice versa because of the gay sex. Does that make sense? Did you get that? Cum. Anypony, I replied, trying to play it cool.
"What do you mean girlypop awesomebro female dudelove breadslice homie?"
"all of u go to mcdnlds's and fuck and what??? U guys just not going tto tell me? You think you can do this to me? I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to make what they did to Mussolini look like a day at the park. I'm going to send your mom some of your pieces of your body, and then fuck her Kanye West style. Do you think you're safe? Do you? Do you? You aren't. Watch your fucking back. By the way, I'm French."
It was over. I knew it was over. I looked at the server, and I saw the announcement. She revealed our secrets to everyone. She texted my 18 wives. She found the family members of the rest of the group. Last I heard, one of us, whose name I will not reveal out of clear respect for the dead, was beheaded by the law. Which is weird, considering they lived in Norway. I guess they just figured it wasn't worth the trial and skipped straight to a death sentence that I'm pretty sure they legally don't have? Who knows. All I know is that I'm sitting in a New Mexico motel smoking meth and counting the seconds I have left. She'll find me eventually, but eyeing the revolver in my hands, I know I might have a chance to take her with me. I know I probably won't. I know she'll turn me inside out before I can even say a word, but a man can dream. And also cum.
