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 Weathered
The New Millennium Aphrodisiac

Dave S. Shearer

Artie had closed the door to the bedroom most of the ways, leaving it open just a small crack so that if Tanya were to get curious and come peeking in he would have an extra moment to close out all the browser windows on the computer before she could see. He listened very carefully for footsteps or any noise that would have alerted him to any impending intrusion. He was as alert as a soldier in defense of a post, waiting for the strike and hoping that if and when it came he would be as ready as he planned to be.
    Below the keyboard that sat on the desk his pants were unbuttoned and his fly lay open, and in the fist of his left hand he clenched himself firmly. His right hand moved the mouse along the pad on the desk as above on the screen the little white arrow cursor raced rapidly around, opening windows and clicking on various images to see them in larger format.
    On the screen at that moment was a picture of a naked girl of about 20 years old, her firm large breasts openly displayed. Her brown hair was long and fell in layers upon her tanned shoulders. Her neck and head were stretched back and in her eyes was a mischievous look complemented by a devilish smile. She looked straight at the camera and Artie could almost hear her say, “Do you like what you see? I know you do. Oh, the things I would do to you...”
    Excited by the picture, Artie’s hand began to go to work below the keyboard. He listened closely, making sure his girlfriend was still obliviously strewn across the couch of the living room in the small New York City apartment that they shared. He could faintly hear the television in the other room, Jerry Seinfield carrying on some hilarious banter with Jason Alexander to the music of a canned studio manufactured laughter soundtrack.
    His right hand moved the mouse along again, clicking here and there and now there was a video playing of the same girl posing and touching herself. She reached up and jiggled her sizeable assets for the camera before turning and bending over so the viewer could get a closer and more personal look at her backside. She did these things seemingly at the behest of the cameraman, who coached her on with enthusiastic cheers like, “Nice, I like that,” and “Good, now smack it.”
    With another click the video changed to show the girl on her knees using her mouth to pleasure a skinny guy who was naked except for a side turned red baseball cap. The camera zoomed in and out on her face as she moved her head back and forth.
    Artie clicked away and over the next few minutes watched several similar videos of a variety of different girls. He was jerked suddenly from his intense concentration when the voice of his girlfriend called to him from the living room. “Artie, are we going to watch this movie?” she said in her thick Northern Floridian accent. “I thought you said you just wanted to check your email?”
    “I am!” he called back, annoyed at having been disturbed. “Just give me a couple of minutes. I’ll be right out and then we can watch it.”
    “Alright, hurry up!”
    “Always so impatient!” he thought. “She’s lucky I put up with her. I ought to tell her to march her fat ass back to Tallahassee that’s what I out to do. She can go back to living with that muscle head douchebag who used to beat her all the time if she wants! He turned his attention back to the screen. He realized that he would have to make this quick and needed something that was going to really get him going. He was getting bored of these videos anyway and clicked the mouse to bring up a search bar into which he typed the words “Asian twins”.
    “Yeah, this is some good shit,” Artie said to himself as the screen displayed a new medley of naked oriental girls who looked as though they may or may not be sisters performing an assortment of sexual acts. His hand went back to work as he looked at the pictures and watched the videos. He imagined what it would be like to be there with the girls, letting them run their hands over his body and pleasure him with their tongues. When he imagined himself he was loose and confident, his flabby white gut and pasty loose skin being of no consequence to the lustful attention of the girls. Sluts didn’t care about stuff like that anyway. All they wanted was sex. If he were there Artie would have made them scream with pleasure, he would have made them beg like a bunch of starved dogs.
    There was a noise from the other room and it took Artie a second to recognize it as the sound of clinking glassware in the kitchen. He had jolted again and involuntarily hastened to cover himself and block the screen, fearing his girlfriend would storm the room and find him there touching himself and gorging on the pornographic content. She had already caught him once several months ago and the argument that had ensued had been so bitter it had instilled in him a healthy fear of her prying eyes “Disgusting,” was the word she’d used to describe what he’d been doing. He had tried to turn it around, saying she was physically neglectful. A huge battle ensued and in the end he’d promised to never look at anything like that again, a promise he had quickly broken the very next day.
    “She’s just getting a drink,” he told himself. “She’ll start yelling about the movie again soon though.”
    He opened back up the search bar and into the line typed “Fetish.” The computer did a search and brought up a new set of colorful images. Artie fixed his eyes on the sordid feast. There were pictures of domination and S&M, transsexuals, cross dressers, people urinating on each other, and girls having sex with animals. He began to click on random links that got him really excited.
    He watched a video of a man dressed as a girl getting slapped and pinched by a huge breasted blonde woman in black leather boots and lingerie. He watched a girl bend over a fence behind what looked like a rural farmhouse and waited for a large grey horse to come and mount her while she screamed and gritted her teeth. He watched a beautiful girl with startling green eyes and a firm body masturbate while a man urinated on her chest. His hand flew furiously and Artie could feel the moment building in him.
    Again he envisioned himself there participating in all those images. He gave himself freely to his imagination and as such became a man who possessed an infinite prowess and command over desire. A man who would never know the awkwardness in which he himself usually felt during sex, those laborious, nervous, and difficult experiences of his life of which there had been precious few before he had met Tanya. He had been with only two other women in his life. The first was a drunken one night stand with skinny busted-faced Gloria Hetton in eleventh grade at a friend’s party after junior prom, the second with tortured Dana Flaherty who he had met in college. He’d found out that Dana was a cutter the second week they were hanging out when she showed him the scars on her legs and arms and even though he’d been freaked out he needed someone so bad he had stuck around. Eventually he fell desperately and madly in love with her and when she had ironically dumped him after only seven weeks it was he who was the one crying and acting like a psycho.
    He hadn’t had sex again until he started hanging out with Tanya nearly two years later after a friend introduced them while he was in his last semester of college. Even now, after nearly a year, when they were intimate he felt as if he were somehow being judged. He wondered if she was truly enjoying it, if the moans and sounds of pleasure she made were real or fake. Even though she was as fat as he was he still felt that when they were together she were looking at his gut and chest and criticizing him within the clandestine recesses of her mind. The computer didn’t look at his man boobs, it didn’t buy him running shoes for Christmas, it didn’t bring home whole wheat bread and baked potato chips from the supermarket. In each image he saw the man he was meant to be as he fulfilled all of his wanton and impious desires.
    “Artie,” called his girlfriend from the living room again. “Hurry up!’
    “I’m coming!” he shouted, and this time his words were literal. He reached up and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the desktop and released himself into them. When he was done he felt his heart beating with the quickness of a cheetah in his chest and sweat broken out on his forehead and along the back of his neck. Satisfied, he closed the browser windows and threw the tissues deep into the waste pail of the bedroom, zipped back up his pants and walked back out to the living room.
    Tanya was on the couch waiting for him and she smiled when he came into the room. On the coffee table was a bowl of popcorn and a glass of soda. She hopped up and popped in the DVD and waited for him to sit down on the couch so she could snuggle up to him. She moved her thick frame onto his on the couch and hit the play button on the remote, then lay her head on his chest and draped her arm across his sizeable belly. On the screen the FBI warning against piracy began to scroll vertically across a bright green background. He looked down at the top of her head and saw her roots showing beneath the dye of her hair and his eyes trailed down the meaty pudginess of her back. He reached up and with his hand removed her arm from off of his stomach and pushed it over to her side. He shrugged his shoulder so she wouldn’t lean so close to him. She looked up at him with a confused angry expression but he was oblivious to her gaze, instead fixing his vision on the television. The green screen held on for a moment or two longer before turning black as the movie began to play.



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