Nothing Is More Revolting And Yet So Fascinating Than…
by YBLalat

It was near to three o’clock in the morning and he was still wide awake and in front of the TV, watching the Howard Stern Show – the sleaziest and most disgusting late night talk show ever to be aired on public broadcast. With every single blond female stripper brought forward into the sight of the camera, he would squirm around on his butt to try to disperse the sheer disgust triggered by the God-awful sight he was visually objected to. The program’s male hosts would laugh out loud and heckle senselessly at the presence of the supposedly buxom exotic dancers, but he just felt intellectually insulted by it. The sight of a 30-year-old mature woman wearing nothing but a piece of elastic synthetic fabric the size of a pocket handkerchief is often a heavenly offering for the eyes of other young men, but not to him.

“Oh, just grow up grandMa!”

The gravity-sagged and severely elongated milk papayas, the wrinkle-ridden plunging neckline, the bye-bye flapping under-arm fat and the dragged-around near-corroded butt of the legendary soft-core porn star were all but a sick erotic joke that was targeted to the late night show’s most loyal and insanely fetished alpha male audience. With every single sexual innuendo lashed out at the woman sitting surrounded by the three balding and overweight male hosts, all done in the name of a decent talk show interview, his level of tolerance for such lousy and perverted joke waned exponentially. The more he wanted to hear less of such idiotic and sexist jokes, the more they lashed them out into the direction of his ears and the less humor-genius quality they bear. He decided almost spontaneously then, after seeing that the middle-aged porn star actually enjoyed the blowjob and brittle-dildo jokes the male hosts bombarded her nonstop with, that the night was better off concluded without the shock-jock entertainment from that show.

“Screw this – I’m going to bed bored.”

He looked around for the remote and with a single flick of his fat thumb, finished off the night’s hedonist agenda. Upon throwing the remote control back to where he found it, his eyes were already fixed at the dimly lit corridor where his roommates’ bedrooms are located. He stayed frozen and silent for a while as he stared at the empty corridor; as if his idle mind was actually waiting and gradually conjuring a grand plan to waste the rest of the night’s time with. Suddenly, he smiled a dirty smile and painted an eerie and convoluted mask onto his tired face. He immediately stood up and balanced himself onto his two lazy feet and marched away from the comfort of his sofa and towards the corridor not far away. As soon as he reached the beginning end of the dimly lit corridor, his march rapidly changed pace and morphed itself into the slowdance of the fairies –graceful and silent footsteps that floated above the carpet’s greedy grasp. It was obvious that he did not want his approach towards his roommates’ bedrooms to be noticed or heard.

“I hope that they are already fast asleep by now.”

Upon reaching the first door, he drew his right earlobe close to the wooden panel of the door’s rusty hinges, listening intimately to every drop of detail and every hum of movement that were diffusing through from the other side. He held down his breath and forced it to succumb to the pressure of the relaxed heartbeat, like a threatened deer hiding from under the nose of a weary predator, all edgy and horrified. He closed his eyes tight and waited patiently for the sound of the living. Minutes had passed by that he paused for the signs of the wide awake, but to no avail. There were only two possibilities to that observation, and that other than his roommates was so far indulged in their voyage to the land of the flying lollipop trees and the hymn-singing mermaids, was the fact that someone was enjoying the splendor of online pornography in the safe comfort of utter silence and trusted shelter of their bedroom’s darkness. Certain and convinced, he withdrew his earlobe gradually as he paced himself his slowdance of the fairies towards the next door. Careful as to not disturb the ones who were already in their helpless and futile states of slumber and sexual self-fulfillment, he stood on the edges of his toes and froze the same pose that he had just done in front of the next door. Then, almost immediately, voices of angels from the heavens came pouring down and onto his eardrums like a waterfall of marbles.

“Ah, yes! He is already snoring! Now, we can get down to business!”

**********

When I was a small kid, probably around the early age of two or three years old and while my kid brother had not been born into this world yet, my dad used to take his evening shower with me in the bathroom. Oftentimes, mom would ask dad to take me to the shower with him simply because I had become too tired and too sleepy from playing cops-and-robbers in the neighborhood’s small community playground with the other kids and cycling all over the place on my new bike he had then bought me as a gift and was in dire need of a thorough cleaning. Frankly, I feel comfortable in the intimate company of filth, but mom and dad have always been in a grand confrontation against it ever since I’ve known them.

It was a familiar scene – all dirty and smelly from the mud and sand collected from God-knows-where and all sweaty and icky from the long hours of direct exposure to the midday equatorial sun. Dad would, but only during the first time that he was forced to do it by the busy-cooking mom, reluctantly shouted out my name from in front of the bathroom and ordered that I brought along my good-morning towel with me to where he was already standing. He had both of his hands locked onto his waist and was waiting impatiently for the little son of his that he wished could have come a bit later in his marriage years.

Such sight of dad often signaled the impending approach of trouble. I was simply too exhausted to argue his orders or even talk back at him, which I often did when I was the small Satan that I was back then; so, I concurred anyway. Had he not yelled out my name then, I would have fallen asleep in front of the blaring TV and on mom’s much beloved new leather sofa, all dirty and smelly and icky and sweaty, and thus in effect, brought about mom’s savage tantrum into its full and horrified existence.

“Take off your dirty clothes, you maggot.”
“What, dad?”
“Take them clothes off – you are filthy.”
“Why? I’ll just shower later, when you are done.”
“Oh no, you don’t. You will just fall asleep all filthy. Come on, strip!”
“Why? Are you going to bathe me then?”
“Yes – now, chop, chop, and hurry up.”
“No!”
“Quick!”
“No! Don’t want to!”
“Listen here, you’ll just fall asleep. Now, strip!”
“I don’t want to!”
“Strip, I say!”
“No!”
And then came mom’s, “Honey, you have to take them off for him!”
“What, dear?”
“Take the boy’s clothes off – he won’t do it himself”, she added.
“Oh yes, he will. Come on boy, strip!”
“No!”
“Strip!”
“No! No!”
“Strip!”
“Honey, believe me - he won’t strip. Do it for him”, she said.

Upon looking down at the defiant carbon copy of him, that little hobgoblin that came out of his wife’s virgin vagina, unscheduled and slimy, early one August morning, he sighed a deep sigh and sneered a loathe-full sneer all at the same time. Then, he paused for a few seconds and stared only deeper into my soul, far beyond my small, childish eyes.

“You stinking rascal”, and with that, he quickly took my clothes off in a single swipe of his two large arms and stripped me down to my knees to nothing more but the layer of brown dirt and gray dust that accumulated into a thin film of stench that covered all throughout my over-tanned skin but my silly face. He then threw my clothes so forceful against the bathroom wall that they slumped down to the floor faster than the time period of my dropping, bewildered jaw.

As soon as I realized that I was forced down to my own naked self, plagued with a little bit of daze and confusion by all that vulgar display of dad’s manly and fatherly prowess, I was already in the bathroom buck-naked with him. The sight then was an unforgettable one: me standing near the toilet seat naked and scraping dry mud patches off of my butt cheeks, and him crouching near the waterhole naked and taking his 2-gallon piss against the white-marble walls. The awkward silence of that brought birth to echoes of the bathroom bounced back and forth as I yawned and sighed and he moaned and hissed.

Also, I still remember the manner in which he soaped himself up in the bathroom, all the thick soap bubbles trickling down and all over his naked brown skin, and with one hand cupping the bar of soap against his hairy chest while the other rubbing the layers of dirt in small circular motions off of his tree-trunk abdomen, and how he touched himself gently and violently at the same time, and with the viscous coatings of soap being the perfect cleaning lubricant. Sometimes, he would also bend over and drew his two kneecaps together so close just to reach the back and the lower half of his thighs and scrub dry the soft skin of his butt’s cleavage with the rough backside of his manly fingers. The constant wiggling of his hips and butt cheeks from the gentle and violent scrubbing of his body made me shudder initially, but the more I observed intently, the more I was fascinated by the sight of him seemingly dancing a ritualistic mating trance of the adult male kin.

Once his body was all white and slimy with the multi-layers of near-dry bubbles from the bar soap that he had rubbed onto sensuously, the only thing left to be done was for him to step nonchalantly into the shower bowl and stand mightily under the shower head and behind the dry privacy of the translucent plastic shower curtain, yield without terms to the icy coldness of the waterfall of shower accelerating rapidly onto the skull of his head and flowing haphazardly over the tender outer shell of his body, carrying along with it the muddy soap bubbles and its day-worth muck all towards his brawny calves and down to his hairy ankles. Watching him from the front, standing just inches away and looking high up, and under the sprinkled shower water droplets ricocheted away from the upper body and the two arms, the sight of him rubbing down the soap bubbles off of his mature man’s frame, accompanied by the rhythmic twists and turns of his hip and shoulders, was the most glorious spectacle of the true beauty of man’s nature from my childhood life.

Showering naked with my dad when I was a kid was my first session to a life-long sex education and self-discovery, and how unfortunately incestuous and homoerotic it was.

“Why are you looking at your father’s body like that, my son?”

**********

The night before that, a graduating female senior, who was on her hurried way to the international airport to catch the last flight out of the country and was heading homeward at last after four long and struggling years at the U, and had forgotten to notify the unfriendly him prior to her unexpected presence in front of my doorsteps, had asked him the desperate favor of safekeeping and then passing on to the designated fellows a few of her clothing items that she intended to give away as a friendly gift of faithful remembrance. The clothing items, efficiently packed and conveniently rolled and skillfully pressed, were concealed inside of a brown shopping mall paper bag that had pictures of young adults of both sexes, wet and muddy and hugging and happy all over, and often associated with the lifestyle of the posh and brand-proud, and not wanting to make it into that much of a really dramatic and significant deal, were accepted respectably and taken into his sincere care just as she had probably expected of the more junior and less secure Malaysian underling that he was then.

“Now, where are the girl clothing, and that brown paper bag of hers?”

In the pitch black darkness of the closet-like storage room, he rummaged his way into finding the clothing items of that female senior. With every single garbage and unwanted crap taken out and flung onto the cement floor and the corridor walls, the passing of the image of each clothing item imagined by him having being inside the brown paper bag became more and more erotic in nature. He knew of the existence of the female senior’s various girl shirts and jeans since she had mentioned them before, item by item to him, to whom they were supposedly to be passed on later. He also knew of the heavy weight of the concealed brown paper bag that the female senior had specifically told not to be opened by anyone else, and not even by him the safekeeper, but only the new and lucky girl owners that she mentioned. But then, not knowing fully the guy she had entrusted such personal and physically intimate items that they were to, how gravely mistaken for her to also impose such an enticing taboo, and such a tantalizing invitation to the breaking of the forbidding rules it was, that was longing to be violated and raped.

“Hah! Here are my precious love kittens! My soft, sweet-smelling love kittens!”

With a single violent tear, the whole bottom thick lining of the concealed brown paper bag was ruptured and torn to pieces and out came through it, bursting like a meteor shower hitting the mountainous plains of the empty wilderness, every one of the imagined intimate and personal girl clothing items: fuzzy cotton socks, sensuous thermal underwear, mini-sized shorts, fashionable long and short skirts, and pairs and pairs of color-matched and skin-sensitive G-string panties and wire-frame bras. Vehemently, and with both of his palms stretched out and trembling in utter excitement, he squeezed to grip and scooped up to his chest and face as many girl clothing item that he could that was laying near and around his two feet and up to his ankles. With every single girl clothing that touched or landed onto his already-sweaty face and cold-nervous lap, he laughed and laughed his most sinister and twisted laugh louder and louder and that God-awful devilish smile carved onto his red, saliva-drenched lips transmogrified itself longer and longer. He attempted his best not to stir up the serenity of the apartment and his roommates’ bedrooms and trying not to wake their suspicion of his perverted late night deed, but how could have such a pathetic creep of his state of moral illness and ethical distortion be best at that task – such notion is not befitting of him, furthermore at that level of sexual thrill.

“Come here, come here, my dear, let me lick you, let me sniff you!”

Immediately, he dropped off the clothing items that he was holding so passionate to onto the storage room carpet and savagely tore off the buttoned down night pajama that he was wearing and stripped down naked to his knees. While his hands were busy taking off any object of fabric that was hindering his naked body from seeing the light of the dimly lit corridor’s bulbs and feeling the gentle stroke of the midnight’s soothing breeze, his two feet was busy kicking and dragging the brown paper bag and its contents and the fallen girl clothing items towards the nearby corridor wall mirror. As soon as he was in his much adored buck-naked form and standing mightily and self-aroused in front of the corridor wall mirror, the brown paper bag was already pouring out its most precious cargo – sets of matching panties and bras and silk thermal underwear. Without hesitation and certainly without the slightest feeling of guilt or shame, he put on every item that came pouring out of the bag onto his naked skin, from top to bottom and from the inner layer to the outer. He didn’t pay much attention to the color or to the size of the items he donned, may they be suitably matched to his soft skin tone or his full body appearance, or may they be a bit oversized or uncomfortably too fit for his manly-curved stature, all that mattered in his racing consciousness was to put on as many as he could before the raging currents of his sexual fetish die down prior to his climax and left his crotch limp and dry.

From the end corners of his slightly closed eyes and with his two arms raised high up towards the ceiling and his two legs spread outward and faraway from each other, he stared at his own reflection on the mirror and smiled at himself the most satisfying smile. Anxiously, he shifted his eyesight and he exhaled his breaths, with every little detail of his clothing-covered body seen and ogled from the view of the corridor wall mirror, gradually and erotically, and painstakingly arousing the already-heated him to the point of sexual self-satisfaction that he has never experienced before all throughout his post-puberty life. The sight of him in those sexy girl clothing items only made things worse. From that moment onwards, nothing could prevent his dirty mind from animating and fantasizing the suggestive poses and images of the mentioned girls that the female senior wanted him to pass the clothing items to. His body heat further raised itself wildly.

With every single girl that he imagined inside his head, his fingers trembled some more. At a snail's pace, his two arms floated down from high up his head to the baseline of his ears, making their way to the neck and finally stopping temporarily at the girl shirt collar. Moaning and exhaling to the felt rising warmth of his fingers and palms at the skin of his neck, he started to undress himself once more in front of the corridor wall mirror. All done erotically slow and with the full intention of arousing him more, he enjoyed the undressing of him both physically and emotionally, whilst the senses under the fat layer of his naked skin being teased by the undressing fingers, his mind ran and ran in an amuck fashion, imagining more and more of the sexually suggestive images of the girls in their clothing items. When his wet fingers eventually arrived at the breast pockets of the girl shirts and ultimately at his own man-nipples, he pulled the shirt’s pocket towards his quivering mouth and lick a full wet tongue the small spot where he imagined the girl’s supple breasts would have been. When the stomach of his palms in due course caressed the nape of the jeans’ back pockets and ultimately at his own tensed buttocks, he then stretched his spine towards the back and into a U-shape and grasped fully with both his hand and rubbed up and down and stroked from left to right and back the place where he imagined the girls’ vivacious buttocks would have been. With every single spot on his body that his fingers arrived at as they undressed the girl clothing that he was donning, he would touch himself gently and violently at the same time in the similar manner that he saw his own father touched himself and his naked mature body in the bathroom when he was a small kid.

Finally, he was totally nude – not a single thread of fabric was between his body and his naked mirror image. All of the girl clothing that he had on before were then laying helplessly and dishonored on the carpet floor, like the one-night-stand teen sluts that the sick world today finds their image so filthy and cheap yet so sexy and innocent. Looking at the naked version of himself, he surprisingly started to giggle and chuckle and snort and guffaw uncontrollably. He seemed as if he had lost his horny composure, but then the constant jabbing and deep fisting of his own stomach from the boisterous laughter made it all hard to judge his actual physical or emotional state then. As nighttime passed by, his instinctual hilarity for his own naked reflection finally calmed down to its senses. Once more, he raised his head high up and his two arms towards the ceiling and his two legs spread outward and far and all that in front of the corridor wall mirror, back to the silly pose that he had earlier when he had all of the girl clothing on him, and from the same end corners of his closed eyes, he gazed up and down his own naked body slowly and erotically. He fully covered every square centimeter of his skin with his two small eyes, and each member that he saw, and each nook and cranny, and each dent and bump, he smiled to himself the most satisfying smile. From the relaxed shade of his eye pupils, and from the pleased pace of his breathing, he knew how truly fascinated and mesmerized he was with the glorious natural sight of his naked mirror image – the same image he laid his eyes upon when he was showering with his father behind the shower curtain as a kid.

“Nothing is more revolting and yet so fascinating than a young man’s naked wet body.”