John Trubee

One groovy summer's evening last year I drove down to Marina del Ray to attend a swinger's orgy. I listened to a Rupert Holmes 8-track tape as I cruised down the Santa Monica Freeway in my purple Stingray. The air brushed through my hair from the open car window. My shirt was unbuttoned almost down to my beautiful hairy masculine navel and my gold chain medallion hung around my tanned neck. I was so fuckin' cool I could barely stand it.

As a vicious, immoral young investment banker from Century City, I had learned early in life how to manipulate my environment in order to obtain personal satisfaction--be it a plush high-rise penthouse or a beautiful naked young bimbo to yield to my voracious sexual appetite. Whenever I didn't get what I wanted when I wanted it to satisfy my infantile fixation upon material status objects and compulsion for instant gratification, I had a whole slew of repulsive behavioral traits which I could exhibit in order to embarrass, intimidate, humiliate, and manipulate everyone around me. When you're rich and cool you can do everything. Just ask Alfred Bloomingdale.

Anyway, I arrived fashionably late to the orgy at the exclusive condo. I hummed a Jimmy Buffett tune as I jaunted up the stairs, my fashionable gold medallion bouncing on my hairy masculine chest. Clutching my personal bottle of baby oil in one hand and a vial of cocaine in the other, I was so fuckin' cool that I could hardly stand it.

A beautiful young girl in a translucent negligee answered the door, coyly smiled, and beckoned me in. There in the living room were two guys and twenty-five naked women cavorting on a huge latex mattress on the floor. They humped and pumped and slobbered and moaned in piggish sexual ecstacy as they orgasmed like grunting barnyard animals. Little did they realize that the black shadows behind the Conspiracy were plotting to torture their decadent asses and kill them slowly when they take over America, but that's another story. I mean when you're coming, do you bother to think about the poor innocent little Cambodian children being fed alive to crocodiles by the "enlightened agrarian reformers?" When the cum spurts outa your prick into the orifice of a beautiful but ignorant young woman, do you pause to consider the agony of some pathetic peasant being tortured to death in one of those maniacal, dorky Third World countries? Of course not! You're merely delighting in the physical sensations of your own piggish ecstasy and how good the cum feels as it spurts into the ignorant young woman's body.

Anyway, the swinging orgy lasted way into the night with lotsa semen, cocaine, pussy juice, pot, baby oil, PCP, LSD, and so forth. I cannot go into detail about all the groovy sexual events which occurred there, as this story is intended for publication in some family-oriented periodical such as READER'S DIGEST, and we must protect the innocent little children from raw pornography, but fuck, if you harbor an unnatural interest in graphic images of raw, naked sexuality in bold, wet action, I suggest a visit to your neighborhood PUSSYCAT THEATRE.

It was about 4 a.m. when the orgy finally started to wind down. I bullshitted with some foolish young strumpet named Margaret. I whined at her to come out to the pier so that we could fuck in the moonlight. She seemed reluctant at first, but then happily took my hand and strolled out with me after I informed her what my annual income is.

We snuggled by the water's edge. Margaret suggested that we jump in for a swim. We were already naked, so we jumped in and swam around, splashing each other like frisky teenagers. We were so fuckin' cool we could barely stand it.

Margaret then jolted and screamed out in utter horror and thrashed about like a madwoman.

"Halp me! Halp me!" she screamed. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEE!!!"

I swam towards her to rescue her from whatever was attacking her. Poor Margaret gurgled and thrashed about in the brine. Something monstrous had evidently taken hold of her entire body and was mindlessly flinging her about like one of those special effects in JAWS. Such a terrible thing--for an evening of drug-induced sexual ecstasy to end in such fathomless horror. Dear God. Heaven help us.

Margaret was soon dead--or at least I presumed she was dead, as she had disappeared beneath the water and the thrashing had stopped. The terrible horror of it all.

I immediately felt a clammy tenticle encircle my muscular tanned torso. I screamed out in terrified anguish. It was a huge squid. This monstrous being, this slimy manifestation of evil incarnate had wrecked everything!

"Oh God, oh dear God save me!" I whimpered like a dumb little baby.

The squid crushed my thorax so violently that it caused my eyeballs to squish out of their sockets. I was totally blinded as my eyeballs dangled out of their sockets on optic nerve fibers. Blood gushed out of my eye sockets. I gagged repeatedly.

I finally managed to extricate myself from the squid's demonic grip. I struggled onto the pier and blindly ran out into the street to flag down a vehicle for help.

I heard the grating squeal of brakes from an oncoming tractor-trailer. I stood in his path with no time to escape. The impact flung my naked masculine body high up into the air, smashing it down onto a parked car. I shrieked in agony as I lay dying on the car hood.

Meanwhile the tractor-trailer careened into a concrete wall, throwing the driver through the windshield. His body ripped to shreads as he flew through the glass. He screamed in agony as blood spurted all over.

After I died I was sent to Hell for the crime of unforgivable Pinkness and not having enough Slack as "Bob" Dobbs decrees. I am typing this to you from Hell while Satan jabs a pitchfork into my almighty buttocks.


John Trubee

11438 Killion St. #4

No. Hollywood, CA 91601