All Roads Lead To Hollywood

The Long Road to Hollywood

Having disposed of Ashes, my life took a big turn. Unfortunately, I can’t necessarily say it was a turn for the better. Not that I regret what I did. In fact, I would say I merely did what had to be done. Ashes was lying to me and trying to manipulate me. She had to go. However, there were times that I missed the way things were. Before Hollywood showed back up. Before the pregnancy. We were living a lie, but it was a sweet and comfortable lie. Sometimes I missed it.

When I was with Ashley, I was never alone but I felt isolated. However when I’m with Hollywood, I’m often alone but I feel complete. I can be my true self with her. She has seen the worst of me and she still loves me.

After she joined me on the road, she lived up to her end of the deal and I to mine. I worked hard. Really hard. For two months all we did was drive. From one load to the next. On the rare occasion when I had time for pleasure, Hollywood would leave me alone with the truck so I could pick up a prostitute. However, I found the sex to be lacking. All it did was remind me of Ashes and cause me to miss her.

“The greatest trick the devil pulled was convincing the world there was only one of him.”

From John Dies At The End

I didn’t want to make love anymore like she and I used to do. I wanted to really throttle a bitch. Make her pay for the shit Ashes pulled on me. I wanted to fuck her in the ass hard and dry. Make her scream in pain, then beat her until she shut up. I wanted to choke her until she passed out then finish in her mouth and see if she inhaled and choked to death on my cum. I couldn’t do any of those things though. If I did, the girl would tell. I had promised Hollywood I wouldn’t kill without her permission, and she still had those stupid farm girl values. She saw these girls as lost souls instead of the cum receptacles they were. So I just fucked them, paid the cash, and sent them on their way.

Finally in August I got a load down to Florida. We were sitting on fat stacks of cash from all the work we were doing, and Hollywood suggested a vacation. It sounded good to me. We delivered a load of meat in Jupiter Florida and found a motel with truck parking, a pool, and HBO. We pulled in and I paid for a week up front. If everything went well, perhaps we would stay for two.

All roads lead to Hollywood

About a mile down the road from the motel there was a crazy little bar called “Whips and Things”. This place was exactly what the doctor ordered. It was a bar for sexual deviants. There were all kinds of people that hung out at this place. You had your random, run-of-the-mill bar sluts that just wanted to get stuffed with a different dick every night. They were into whatever you were in to, so long as you were sticking it into them. I passed on those girls.

There were also people who did bondage stuff. You know, doms and subs. There were gays, lesbians, and a word of caution to anyone thinking of going down there… there were a lot of dudes that dressed like girls, some more convincing than others.

My first night there a “girl” offered to take me into the bathroom and blow me. I hadn’t had any in a little while, so I said “what the hell” and off we went. Well, I was just about to bust a nut all over her face when I looked down and she had her skirt hiked up and she was jerking off a fat cock between her legs. My first instinct was to punch him in the face, but the head was so good I pretended not to notice. I was more careful after that.

The Long Road To Hollywood transgender.

And then, there was Mira.

I had a little bit of a problem down there in Florida. As I previously mentioned, I was really wanting to fuck a girl hard. However, I figured out that these bondage people have a bunch of rules. You can’t just meet a girl, fuck her in the ass, bounce her head off the nightstand a couple of times, punch her in the kidney and kick her out into the hallway. These people act tough, but they’re not. They want to feel like they’re being abused, but they demand to be respected.

Figure this one out. They claim to want rough sex, but they have “safe words”. So you’re fingering a girl in the ass and you slip one too many fingers in and she starts saying “cherry pie” or some such shit and you’re supposed to stop. Now I figured I could always pretend I forgot what the safe word was, but they have more rules than that. I needed to learn them. Hence, after the blowjob from the faggot, I laid low and listened. If I played my cards right I would learn what I needed to in time to really stick it to one of these submissive girls before it was time to leave out.

On my third night at the bar, I had a few too many. Hence, the next night I was really holding back. I didn’t know what I may have said to whom, and I didn’t want to offer up any contradictory shit that would blow my cover. Thus, I just sat at the bar keeping to myself… until Mira arrived.

I noticed her as soon as she walked into the bar. She was a chubby girl, but she was beautiful. She wasn’t dressed right for the bar. Most of the girls wore denim or leather, but she wore a short black dress with big pink flowers on it. Her ass stuck out far enough to hold the dress out from hitting the tops of her thighs. It was just short enough for you to think you would see her ass if she bent over, and just long enough to keep that from happening.

She strolled up to the bar, pulled out the stool next to me and casually asked if anyone was sitting there as she sat down. Her ass was firmly planted on the stool before the words were through her sexy pink lips. It didn’t matter if there had been. I would’ve killed whoever occupied the stool and stuffed their body in the ice machine to make room for her if need be.

As we sat there drinking, she told me why she was there. I guess she knew how out of place she looked. And can you believe my luck? Her story was tailor made for me.

Mira had been married for 12 years before catching her husband in bed with the neighbor. No, not the girl next door, but her husband. So she had moved out, gotten a job, and filed for divorce. Mira had a male friend that she went to school with that she was interested in dating. However, here was the kicker. He was into bondage. He was a dominant looking for a submissive. She was there to learn about the lifestyle to see if she could handle it before risking her friendship by dating him.

Like a dumbass, I almost said “I’m here to learn about the lifestyle too” before it hit me. In fact, I said “I’m here for the same reason”. That almost blew it, but not totally. She replied “You’re here to learn about the lifestyle too”? Like a relief pitcher coming in for the bottom of the ninth in a one run game, I recovered in time for the save.

“No, I’m here to teach you.”

Just like that she was eating out of the palm of my hand. I started “explaining” stuff to her. Better put, I made shit up as I went. I let her tell me what she knew, then I filled in the details. And as we talked, the drinks flowed on my tab. Tonight was my night, and I wasn’t blowing this one.

There was a motel next door to the bar. A really shitty dive, but I wasn’t going to risk taking her back to the other motel. Hollywood had been coming and going as she pleased, and Mira was a bit nervous, this being her first time and all. The last thing I wanted was for her to get spooked. So I forked out the $38 for a room at the dump next door, and took her up to the room.

All Roads Lead To Hollywood. Mira.

We entered the room, and Mira turned to face me. Her face told me she was coming in for a kiss. I slapped the shit out of her. She pulled back, surprised, reaching up to rub the sting from her cheek. Her eyes showed shock and a brief hint of anger that subsided quickly. She said nothing. She merely looked at me with apprehension. This was going to be my show, and the look on her face said she knew that.

I started to kiss her now, putting my arms around her and easing her towards the bed. I made her sit on the edge and she started sucking my cock. As it got harder, I could feel her starting to gag as I pushed it deeper into her mouth. I told her to undress and go into the bathroom. She complied.

I put a towel down on the floor in front of the toilet, and made her start blowing me again. This time I was less gentle. I forced my cock into her throat, and when she would gag and pull her mouth off of it for air, I would slap the shit out of her. After a couple of times she learned to keep it in her mouth. The tears started rolling down her face, smearing her mascara and leaving long, black streaks down her cheeks. I continued pushing myself deep into her throat. She gagged and vomited all down the front of herself, covering my balls and legs with slimy yellow-brown bile. I slapped her again and pushed her face into the toilet, making her clean her chin and cheeks with the water. Then, without cleaning myself, I made her start sucking the puke off of my balls.

Through all of this Mira didn’t say a word. Her whimpers, gags, and grunts as I brutalized her face were the only noises she made. When I told her to get up and go to the bed, she simply wiped the tears from her face and complied. I started fucking her pussy, and the whimpers of pain turned to moans of pleasure. As she perched on all fours in front of me, I started fingering her ass while fucking her. The whimpers returned, mixed in the the moaning.

When I pulled my dick out of her pussy and shoved it hard into her ass, she buried her face into the pillow and cried out in pain. Even then, however, she didn’t pull away from me. I started fucking her ass hard, and the cries got louder. Still, not a word. Maybe she was made for this lifestyle after all? If this is even what the lifestyle is supposed to be about.

I continued fucking her ass until I was ready to cum. I ordered her to get on her knees on the floor in front of me. I made her lick my balls and suck on the cock that I had just pulled from her tight ass as I came all over her face. When I finished, I collapsed on the bed exhausted.

Mira got up, collected her clothes, and made her way into the bathroom to try to make herself presentable enough to leave the room. When she reemerged, she looked like she had just been through hell. And then, before she left, she spoke the only words she said to me the entire time we were in that room.

You ripped my asshole open, motherfucker. I’m bleeding.

And with that, she was gone. Suddenly I felt scared and unsure of myself. Was she going to report me to the police? She could lie and claim I raped her, even though she had consented to having sex with me. What would I tell Hollywood if I were arrested? She might even leave me. I began to panic. I thought about running after her and apologizing, or perhaps killing her. I couldn’t afford the attention that an arrest would bring.

I pulled on my clothes and walked outside without developing a plan. It didn’t matter anyway, as she was gone. I turned back to close the door to our room, and I surveyed the mess that awaited room service in the morning. It didn’t look pretty, and it smelled even worse. “Fuck them, they get played to clean it” I muttered shutting the door and walking away.

For the next couple of days, a black cloud hung over me. I feared hearing the cops knock on my door at anytime. Hollywood could tell something was wrong, but she didn’t know what and I didn’t have the balls to tell her. I stayed in the next two nights, as did she. We stayed in bed watching television shows and movies. On the third day I felt a little bit better, but I knew I would need to find a new place to drink until we left.

Looking back on it now, I have a lot of respect for Mira. In the coming years, I would experience some legal troubles that would be featured prominently on the news, yet she never came forward to add to my problems. The bar I went to on that third night, however, would weigh heavily in my demise.


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