Today is Friday, which is alias for my Matthew Temple special. To make today particularly special, I have a double bill for you. First up, the next episode of RAPE! Then discover Matthew from his contemplative side in the next blog post.

“Put your gun away man.”
“Yeah, put it away.”
“Macro, watch yourself.”
“You’re going to get us arrested.”
“No one’s going to get arrested.  I’ve got a permit to carry this.  Stop making a big deal.”
“It is a big deal.”
“Biotik.”
“What?  Were you going to say something?”
“Yeah.  Just.  Stick to what you know, man.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t know shit about firearms.  I had to take a weapons safety training course to get this permit.  So I know shit about firearms.”
“Just keep it away, man.”
“Just watch your mouth, Macro, or I’ll thump your girl.”
“You ain’t gonna thump shit.”
“Macro, you’re pissing me off.  If I wanna thump your girl I’m’onna thump your girl.  Now why don’t you two get on with your date.  Sherman and I are gonna find us some pussy.”
So Macro and his dog bitch girl wandered off into the night, to have ugly sex between ugly people which everyone knows is shit.
And Sherman lectured me on the anti-merits of Holding a Gun When One Goes Out Selecting Pussy and the Pitfalls of Aiming a Gun at a Bitch When You Don’t Intend to Shoot and the like.  Sherman was getting very professorial, and I wondered when he was older if he would be like the ancient schoolmarms which traversed our school and taught our classes.
“You need to leave your piece at home.”
“But how will I make bitches all scared like?”
“I don’t know.  But sooner or later, if you bring your gun out, someone’s going to call the police.”
And what do you know, he was right.  The very next morning my roommate who was a stinky faggot woke me with a start.  The stinky faggot informed me that the police were at the door and behold, as I looked up from my covers there were the old black and blues, peeking into our dorm room door.
My gun was on my desk chair, fully loaded.  I threw a pair of boxers over it, very casual, and pushed the stinky faggot out of my way.
“Do you mind waiting outside, you stink,” I said, and the stinky faggot complied.
As he pushed open the door I could see there were two of them, short cop and tall cop, and they were no doubt ready to play all sorts of games with little old me.
“Can I help you?”
They spoke my name.  “Is that you?”
“Yes.  What’s this about?”
“May we come in?”
“Come right in, come right in brothers.  Can I interest you in a cold brewski?”
“We’re on duty.  Have a few questions for you about last night.”
“Last night eh?  Can’t say I know much about it.”
“Can’t say you know much about what?”
“About anything, really.”
“Were you at Bruno’s on State Street last night?”
“Indeed I was!”
“Do you own a weapon, sir?”
“I own a wee Glock.”
“A Glock.”
“A wee Glock.”
“What makes it a wee Glock?”
“It’s very small.”
“Did you take your Glock with you to Bruno’s?”
“My wee Glock?  No I did not.”
“Where do you keep your wee Glock?”
“I keep my wee Glock in a safe back in Burlington.”
“In Burlington.”
“Yes.”
“Mind if we search your room?”
“Be my guest.”
So they start rummaging through my closet and that of the stinky faggot.  I make sure they know that one’s not mine.
“What are you looking for?”
“Let us ask the questions.”
“Oh.  Duly noted, my good man.”
“What was that?”
I enunciate.  “Duly noted, my good man!”
“Do you think this is funny?”
“Am I laughing?”
“What were you doing at Bruno’s?”
“Scoping out bitches.”
“What?”
“Me and my cronies were scoping the fly hunnies.  Bitches.  Sir.”
“You know you’d get more pussy if you stopped calling women bitches, don’t you?”
“I beg to disagree.  Sir!”
“Did you point your gun at a Miss Angeline Brewster?”
“I’ve never met a Miss Angeline Brewster.  Sir!”
“Did you point your gun at anyone?”
“My gun is in Burlington.  Sir!”
“Do you know what the mandatory minimum sentencing is for felony assault with a firearm?”
“No sir!”
“And you weren’t out pointing your firearm at any women last night?”
“I was simply looking for a little pussy, sir!  I had started out earlier with my boy Tic Toc.  His name is Sherman but I call him Tic Toc sir!  We headed out of the crib and met up with Macrobiotik at Bruno’s, sir!”
“What is macrobiotic?”
“Macrobiotik is my homeboy, sir!”
“Your homeboy’s name is Macrobiotik?”
“Macro for short.  Sir!”
“You can quit with the ‘sir.’  You could spend a lot of time in jail if this lady’s accusations are true.”
“I don’t want to go to jail, sir!  Sorry about the sir!  I’ve heard people get ass fucked in jail, not-sir!  I’d like to die an asshole virgin sir!  I can’t help it sir!  I’m not ready to be fucked by a nigger in prison sir!”
“You have a bad attitude, son.”
“I know, sir!”
“You’re acting like somebody who has something to hide.”
“My story is complete, sir!  There was no harassment at Bruno’s.  Just a lot of bitches looking to get ass fucked by a carrot.  Have you ever ass fucked a woman with a carrot sir!”
“Why don’t you sit over there while we search your place.”
So I sit at my desk, on top of the boxers covering my gun.  And I feel that gun pressed into my ass and I think of what it must be like to have a Glock 9mm stuck up your ass by some psychopathic faggot who wanted revenge for all the times I’ve used the “f” word.
These cops were thorough, but they weren’t searching under my butt.  They worked their way through the room, opening drawers, looking on top of the closets, then they made me sit there while they went up and down the hall questioning my hallmates.
When they came back they asked me if I was sure my gun was in Burlington.
“Scout’s honor.”
“Are you even a Scout?”
“It’s an expression.  What?  You think that just ‘cause I said ‘Scout’s honor’ without being a Scout that that makes me a liar on the point of my gun being in Burlington?  My gun is in Burlington, rest assured.  Just because my bitch-ass hallmates say otherwise doesn’t MEAN SHIT!”
Then they ask me if I’m on any medication for psychiatric illnesses.
“No.  Not that I know of.”
“Are you aware of the university health service?”
“They treat scabies and STDs, right?  I don’t have any STD’s.  I fuck clean bitches.”
“And what do you mean when you say ‘fuck bitches?’”
“You’re kidding, right?  I stick my pee pee in they cooch.  What the fuck you think I mean?”
“Do you ever get rough with a bitch?”
“Why would I get rough with a bitch?  Maybe I slap ‘em in they mouth when they act up.  I mean I might do that from time to time.”
“You know that’s assault, right?”
“I’m not admitting to anything.”
“You need to treat bitches right, ok?  When you get a bitch to suck your dick, that ain’t no license to fuck her, and when a bitch lets you fuck her, that ain’t no license to hit on a bitch.”
“Now wait a minute, who ever said I be roughin’ up on bitches?  Did they say that?”  I point to the hall.
“We’ve had reports.  Bitches be callin’ us and lettin’ us know what you’ve been up to, bro!  When you stick yo’ dick in a bitch, and she don’t want you to, sometimes bitches be callin’ us the next day and gettin’ they insides swiped.  We find you spunk inside a bitch that didn’t want to be fucked, you could go to jail.  Bitches’ insides be they own.  You can’t fuck a bitch ain’t got no permission.”
“Respek.”
“Now, did you take your piece to Bruno’s last night or not?”
“Nah, man.”
“You didn’t pull your piece out on some bitch named Angeline?”
“Nah, man.  But that bitch was actin’ up.”
“What did she do?”
“She was lookin’ all fly and shit.  She was wearin’ tighty fishnets and I could see her maxi pad between her legs and shit.  It was stickin’ out.  I was thinkin’ about that bitch’s pussy and shit.  Bettin’ she had a fly pussy.  Wanted to do a finger test with ye olde pinky, if you catch.”
The officers were coming closer, and I squirmed me butt around the Glock, trying to conceal that I wasn’t sitting on flatness.
“What’s a finger test?” the one officer asks.
“When you get a bitch captive,” I say, “you want to perform Ye Olde Finger Test.  This is where you finger a bitch progressively with one finger, two fingers, three fingers, four.  Start with your pinky.  Ideally you want a bitch who passes the one-finger test, meaning that when you stick yo’ pinky up that bitch’s cooch that bitch is tight as hell.”
“What happens if she fails the test?”
“You move on, my brotha, you move on.”
“Well, we’re going to be keeping an eye on you.  If it turns out you’re hiding your Glock on campus there will be serious consequences.”
“Good, my brotha, right with you.”  I give them the old thumbs up.
“And take it easy on the bitches.  I know you like to fuck but bitches be havin’ feelings.  It’s important that everyone be treated with respect.”
“Respek.”
“No.  Respect.”
“Respect.”
“That’s right.”  The officer gives me the thumbs up.
“And you boys take it easy on the road.  You never know with these university brothas, when someone might go ballistic on ya, jump out guns blaring, like maybe if he had a personal grudge or something.  So anyway take care, I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other after today.”
Then those black and blues took their smug faces and they left me be.  And I stood up from sitting on my Glock, and straightened out my ass cheeks.

(from RAPE! by Matthew TEMPLE. Read the rest of this story here.)

Time for the third episode of RAPE! I’m in two minds as to whether I should start a whole new blog to feature adult fiction or continue to share it here. I take it my readers are freethinkers, able to laugh at themselves and the world. I take it you all won’t get your knickers in a twist if I don’t stick to what is politically correct. Good. Got that sorted. Let’s move on. Matthew, over to you.

It was a while longer before I again saw Little Miss Defiance.  She had to do her things and I had to do mine before we were to meet the second time.  While she was masturbating to my image and sticking all manner of vegetables into her pussy, I was hanging with my boys, Tic Toc and Macrobiotik.  We were at Bruno’s.
“Is this it?”
Macrobiotik looked at me.  “What do you mean, is this it?”
“Sherman, you promised me this wouldn’t be a sausage fest.”
“It isn’t.”  Sherman motions toward the dance floor.  “There’s like..a seven-to-one ratio out there.”
“Yes, but all those bitches are sasquatches.  Sasquatches don’t count.”
“Show me one sasquatch.”
I point to a very large girl with hairy armpits.  “Sasquatch.”
“Just ‘cause there’s one sasquatch doesn’t mean they’re all sasquatches.”
“Yes it does.  They infect.  I’m going to take a piss.”
I get up.  I can see those motherfuckers later.  Dragging me to this hellhole..sasquatch-breeding motherfucker.  Bruno’s huh?  I think Bruno has a pink dildo up his ass.
I go down this long hallway leading to the bathroom.  There’s a guy and a girl making out.  He’s this academic-looking type, and she has on fishnets, is slightly taller than him, and has a purse slung from her shoulder.  It’s open.  As I walk by I look in the purse and it’s littered with condoms.
I say, “What’s up?”
They both kind of turn and look at me.
“I said what’s up, baby?”  I do this little motion with my hands that’s designed to make a bitch go crazy.
The guy is looking at me like he’s really angry.
I say, “Tell your man to stop looking at me.”
The guy says, “Just leave us alone, ok?”
I keep my eyes on the girl.  “Tell that motherfucker to stop looking at me.”
She puts her hands on his cheeks and turns his head to her.  “Stop looking at him.”  He turns and they’re looking each other in the eyes.
“What’s your boy’s name?”
“Francis.”
“He fuck you in the ass?”
She doesn’t say anything.  I’m looking at her body.  She’s got fly legs.  Fly tits.  And a fly-ass face.
“Francis, what do you think you’re doing with a girl like that?  You can’t handle her.”
“And you could?” the girl says.
“Yeah,” I say, and smile.  “What kind of tampons you use, bitch?  Kotex?  Playtex?”
“Let’s go,” the guy says.
But I flash my gun.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I say.
“I use OB alright.”
“Super protection?  Extra glide?”
“Super protection.”
“What size?”
“Don’t answer that,” Francis says.
I put my gun to his head.  “Let her answer.”
“Extra smalls,” she says.
“Extra smalls?”  I start to get hard.  “What dorm you live in?”
“Don’t tell him.”
“Francis, do you want to get shot in the head?”
“Crawford.  I live in Crawford.”
“Good.  You two can go.  Be good and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, ok, Francis?”
Then this bitch says, “Don’t you want to know the room number?”
“Why, do you want me to know it?”
Francis says, “Let’s go.”
“Do you want me to come and visit you at night?  I can suck the blood off those extra smalls and stick my dick in your extra-small pussy.  Francis, would that be ok with you?”
The girl says, “Just let us go.”
“No I’d like to hear him say it.  Would it be ok with you, Francis, if I snag your girlfriend’s small-size fishnet cunt and drop a load in it?”
“Yes, it’s fine, can we go now?”
You can tell by the look on fishnet’s face that she’s not happy.
Francis says, “What?”
“You’d let him drop a load in my pussy?”
“I wouldn’t really let him drop a load in your pussy, I just want him to get the gun out of my face and let us go on with our evening.”
“I’m gonna let you do that, Francis.  But I want you to promise me one thing.  When you’re fucking this bitch, I want you to know that I’m there somewhere, over your shoulder maybe, waiting to take over when little miss fishnet here gets tired of your pencil dick.  Ok.  Go on.  Go on!  I’m trying to take a piss here!  Get the fuck out of my face.”
And, gun in hand, I unzip right there and take a piss in the hallway.
On the way back to the bar, this Poindexter-looking dude sees me and he sees the pile of piss.  I give him this hard look and he just keeps going.  “Thought so,” I say.
It’s just Tic Toc, sitting alone.
“Where is Macro?”
“Dancefloor,” Sherman nods.
I look to the dancefloor.  Indeed there is Macrobiotik, dancing with some average-looking girl.
“Is that the girl from his polisci?”
“Yep.”
“That’s the girl from his polisci.”
“Yep.”
“That’s the reason we came out here?”
“Yep.”
“Sherman.  Tic Toc.  What the fuck.  We gotta get out of here.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause I flashed my piece.”
Sherman turns.  “What?”
I shrug.
“What happened?”
“There was this fishnet girl with this gentleman named Francis.  Francis is, shall we say, a cake boy.  Francis has no right being with this piece of hotness.  And then there’s me.  I found out where she lives.  She wears extra-small tampons, super protection.”
“What does that have to do with you flashing your piece?”
“They were actin’ up.”
“Well we have to leave this bar.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’.”
“Before the police get here.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll get Macro.”
So Sherman heads over to ye olde dancefloor and tugs on Macro’s shirt.  I see them arguing and Macro’s girl looks unhappy so I figure it’ll be a while.  I turn to the bar to order a shot.
“Whatcha havin’?”
“I’ll have the gunslinger’s special.”  I laugh.  “That’s a special..for gunslingers—”
“There’s no guns allowed in the bar.”
“I know that, I was just saying—”
“What are you having?  I don’t have all night.”
“A cup of Goldschläger.”
“A cup?”
“Yeah.”
“You can have a shot.”  The bartender leaves.
I’m tapping my hands on the bar and Sherman and Macro and Macro’s girl come up behind me.
“So let’s get outta here.”
“I’m having a drink.”
“We’re leaving because of you.  Skip your drink.”
“I already paid.”
“No you didn’t.”
The bartender comes back.  He tells me the price and I put it on my card.
“Can’t you pay with cash so we can get out of here?”
“I never carry cash.”
“What kind of policy is that?  You never carry cash?  Psychopath.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Why do we have to leave?” Macro’s girl says.
“Because I’ve been a bad bad boy.”
“What did you do that’s bad?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” I say.
Macro puts his arm around the girl.
“Macro, what the fuck is this bitch’s name?” I say.
Sherman says, “Drink your drink.”
“I’ll drink it..in a minute.  I don’t like to be around a bitch and not know the bitch’s name.  ‘Specially if the bitch is the bitch of a friend of mine.”
“I’m Kelly.”
“Nice to meet you, Kelly.”
And I do my shot.  Then I sign my name on the credit card receipt with a scrawl that in no way resembles my signature.
“Let’s go.”
Outside, the four of us walk down State Street.  There are many hunnies, bitches, and hoes, as well as a few vixens, some foxes, and an intolerable number of dykes walking hand in hand and flaunting everywhere that they had released themselves from their dangerous dependency on dick.  When dykes pass I think of how tight their pussies must have become after such a long vacation from dick, or in some cases a complete lack of dickly intruders.  To turn a dyke is the ultimate accomplishment for a straight guy.  Or, let’s just say it is one of the ultimate accomplishments, for their are many ultimate accomplishments.
“So, Kelly, when you suck Macro’s dick does he precum a lot?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’m concerned about my man here.  He’s showing a lack of progress, academically.  All he wants from you is your polisci notes.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.”  I smile at Macro.  “Now about this precum.”
“Why are you always so interested in everybody’s sex life?” Sherman asks.
“Because it’s my specialty.”  Duh.
We walk a while, and I think the subject is dropped.  But then Kelly says, “I haven’t sucked his dick yet.”  And she looks at Macro.
I felt like a proud mother, hearing this “yet.”  Knowing Macrobiotik sperm would be lodging themselves between the teeth of this average-looking girl as she gulped down his cock.  I mean, hey, if he wanted to date down with this mutt-looking girl Kelly, she better be sucking his cock.  “She better be sucking his cock hard,” I say.
And everybody looks at me for saying that.
“Me, I like a girl with a pretty face.  Like that girl we met at the coffeehouse this morning.  Wasn’t she pretty, Sherman?”
“If you like mice.”
“Mice?  You think the looked mousy?  She wasn’t mousy, you just like a long face, Ticky Toc, where I like a round one.  She had a round face, it wasn’t mousy.  If by mouse you mean she had a small pussy, then I bet you’re right.  I bet that girl’s pussy is just as defiant as she was.  She was like holding her fist up in the air in protest.”
“She wasn’t holding her fist up.”
“But it was like she was holding her fist up.  Like she was Che Guevara and I was the Cuban emperor.”
“Uh, dude, Cuba doesn’t have an emperor.”
“Shut up, nigga.”
“Can you not say the n word?”  That was Kelly.
I stop walking.  Then everybody else stops walking.
“What?  I just don’t like that word.”
I look at Macro.  Then I look at Kelly.  I pull out my gun.  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, bitch.”

(from RAPE! by Matthew TEMPLE)