Ten days after the first fuck I asked her to marry me. I moved into her apartment after five months and we married after seven. We went to Las Vegas for the ceremony where I repeated the same line to the cabbies, "You only get married for the last time once." That was my intention. It wasn't infrequent for us to fuck three times a day. I wanted to fuck her and fuck her and fuck her. Most her ex-lovers had entered my life and the endless queue of them fucking her kept me in a constant state of horniness. I was wild with jealousy and carnality. I wanted to fuck every trace of them out of her. I don't remember how many weeks passed before I requested my first story, but I would ask her how much she loved fucking while we fucked and she would answer that she had a hot cunt that had to have a hard cock in it. When I asked her how often she liked to fuck, she answered night and day, which intimidated me. Perhaps I couldn't meet the challenge. I visited Dr. Polyphemous Pangloss, my doctor for the past 30 years. At our initial consultation three decades ago I was suffering from my usual hypochondria, explaining to him that I was deathly ill and speculating that my premature demise might be the result of a heart attack or cancer or a stroke unless detected immediately. "Are your parents alive," he inquired. "Yes, doctor." "And your grandparents?" "My father's parents have passed away, but my mother's parents are living." "And how old were your father's parents when they died?" "My grandmother was killed in an automobile accident in her sixties, but my grandfather lived until he was ninety." "And how old are your mother's parents?" "They're in their eighties." "There's nothing wrong with you. If you don't kill yourself with drugs or alcohol, you may live to be a hundred. Get out of here and on with your life." My bouts with venereal disease brought me to his office on a regular basis and he never had any qualms about giving me the latest antibiotics for a bout of flu or a persistent cough. Faced with Fabiola's alleged insatiable sexual appetite, I appealed for as many samples of Viagra as he could spare. Over a two-week period I swallowed the pill ten different times as I pounded Fabiola with my own insatiable desire. After repeated staccato outbursts of "fuck me", we were in the middle of a session when I asked her to tell me about losing her virginity. Her boyfriend yanked down her panties in the backseat of a car and screwed her. She was 15. "And did you like it?" "I loved it." "And would you fuck alot in the backseat?" "In the backseat and at motels. Sometimes we would leave school at lunch and go to his sister's apartment, which we had to ourselves." "Did you love him?" "I never loved him. I was worried that my mother might notice my hips were getting wider from fucking, but she never said anything." "And how many other guys have you fucked?" "Ten. Twelve. I'm not sure." Ten! Twelve! She wasn't sure! The animal was roaring in pain. I was Iliana collapsing on the couch.
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