Michael Marrotti

Casual Sex At Narcotics Anonymous

My only friend Tony has turned his back on me for some slut in Dormont named Trish. You know the world’s spinning out of control when someone as hideous as Tony has found a girl to fuck him. She’s cute too. Unbelievable. And here I am jerking off to free online porn instead of making an effort to cum the good old-fashioned way. I’m not a bad-looking guy; there’s a slut out there waiting for me to slip it in. I just gotta finish these pizza rolls, grab some drugs and find her. If not I’m doomed to a solitary existence. It’s time to get rid of this hand lotion and get on out there.

I’m all dressed up on this Thursday night, now all I gotta do is snort these drugs. I’m running on empty over here, down to my last two pills. This is no good. If I don’t score some more shit soon I’ll be the manifestation of a good thing gone bad. Anyways I crush my last two pills on the dresser, grab my favorite straw and embrace the light. It’s instant gratification to the point that I run to the bathroom for my first narcotic shit of the day. My systems are flushed and my hands are sanitized. Let the scratching begin.

I love this feeling. Drugs make me enthusiastic about living. I could literally sit here by myself, watching Lifetime movies like a little bitch and be completely content. That’s not gonna get me laid, though. This is no time for complacency, so I’m out the door.

I have this ingenious plan. It entails going directly to the Narcotics Anonymous meeting up the street from my apartment to handle both my needs. All I gotta do is a little play acting. After all, I’m a fan of drugs, they purify my life. The only drugs worth doing are the ones that give, and these tiny little pills I blow up my nose have made me a better person. I’m the me I always wanted to be. And the females at these support groups are always so vulnerable. They sit there and obsess over numbers. Well congratulations, bitch. I’m the thirteenth step going directly into your vagina.

As I walk through the doors of the Methodist church it becomes abundantly clear that Christianity is a religion of decadence. This place of worship and recovery is crawling with scumbags from all walks of life. Reformation in the making, if they can just resist the pleasures of chemically induced bliss.

It smells like relapse and burnt coffee. I take a cookie and have a seat next to a recovering addict. She looks like something straight out of a Nazi propaganda poster. Minus the track marks.

I’m one bite into this stale-ass cookie by the time she turns her troubled little head into my direction.

“Hi, I’m Gina,” she said. “My asshole boyfriend usually comes to these things with me, but today he decided to go get a bundle of dope and shoot up some shit instead. That bastard! He doesn’t care about my recovery. All he cares about is getting high. We’re through. I can’t take it anymore. It’s all about his needs, his wants, his spoon. That stupid fucking spoon! How about this shit; he still has the original spoon he used to shoot up with for the first time. Unbelievable, right? He says it’s his good-luck spoon, that’s why he’s never overdosed, or at least that’s what he claims. Anyways, fuck him! It’s over…”

Wow. That was intense. These people are brutally honest. I like it. This is way better than a sitcom. This woman may be strung out, crazy and/or depressed, but she has one hell of a sexy figure. Entering her love tunnel would be a pleasure. My pleasure.

I look into her pretty blue eyes and say, “He sounds like a real asshole. What’s a sexy woman like yourself doing wasting time with someone like that? Take a look around, honey. We all know you could do better.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. You’re one of those nice guys, I can see it from here. A woman deserves a nice guy after years of dealing with selfish assholes. What’s your name?”

I tell her my name’s Mario as I consider how tight her pussy might be. I’m dubious of this, but the woman does have a smoking hot bod, plus she’s blonde. Those aren’t easy to come by in Pittsburgh.

I’ll just have to wrap it up, that’s all. I know it sucks, but it’s better than jerking off again or contracting hepatitis.

But before I can seal the deal, I’m rudely interrupted by the ex-junkie speaker standing up there at front.

“Hi, I’m Mark and I’m an addict. It’s been several months of a living hell, but I feel as though the worst is behind me. The reoccurring dreams of pin pricks and prostitution are a thing of the past. Have faith in God, people. With the almighty Lord anything is possible. If there’s hope for me, you better believe there’s hope for you. As I look into the crowd I see a new face. Let’s all give him a warm welcome as he tells us about his struggle.”

For the love of God, I wasn’t expecting this! This junkie fuck just put me on the stand, man. I don’t wanna face all these scumbags, I just wanna get high and find me some pussy to fuck.

Maybe this wasn’t the most thought-out idea after all…

“Go ahead, Mario,” says Gina. “We’re all waiting for you.”

I reluctantly go up front for all the bloodshot eyes to see. I’m so fucking nervous that I’m walking funny.

Man, fuck! If they catch onto my act I’m doomed. I might even catch an ass beating by the bottom barrel of society.

Fucking losers. What’s so hard about using in moderation?

“Hi, I’m Mario and I’m an addict. I’ve been a slave to narcotics for five years too many. I’d work sixty hours a week to support my habit. Things were fine until I couldn’t score. I brutally beat my boss one day after I showed up dopesick with a bad attitude. He questioned my appearance and work ethic; I questioned the integrity of his chin. That cocksucker collapsed after just two punches. Next thing I know I’m without a job and my freedom. Praise sweet baby Jesus! Grant me the strength to make it through!”

All the stupid fuckers began to clap their shaky hands. Be careful, you brittle bastards. I wouldn’t want you to break any bones over it. A couple even said amen.

They all fell for it, and now Gina is giving me the eye. Everything is going according to plan.

“Mario, that was great. It’s so nice to hear different stories. After a few years here, it all becomes monotonous. It’s one of the reasons why I started looking for new places on my body to shoot up on. We all need a little change now and then, you know?”

I ask Gina how much longer the meeting is as I second guess the conquest of this vagina that’s likely been around the block one too many times for my liking. Junkies aren’t the most virtuous people in Pittsburgh, after all.

I’m willing to bet Gina slept around A LOT to feed her addiction. Is that too far-fetched to believe?

She tells me no more than an hour. In the meantime, I come close to shattering my teeth on this Goddamn rock of a cookie. Maybe I should go get a styrofoam cup of cheap-ass coffee to go with it as well. That would kill a few minutes.

Meanwhile, addicts keep getting up to explain their deplorable stories for an audience that just can’t get enough. These people are delusional. They put all their faith in God when they never even personally met the woman. What do atheists do? Just believe in themselves like rational people and kick the monkey off their back. That’s what they do.

I look around and notice a clique mentality here. It’s starting to feel like high school all over again. This is doing nothing more than making me wanna use a little extra next time around. These ex-junkies are pretentious, too. It’s all about them. I guess the problems of the outside world don’t matter when you’re trying to stay clean.

Maybe they all took a page out of my father’s shallow book: “Just worry about yourself, son.” Words of wisdom by my narcissistic father. If we all followed his callous example, the world would go back into the dark ages. He wouldn’t care though, unless it affected him personally. What a fucking dick…

Finally, this boring spectacle has reached its climax.

The serenity prayer is the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard in my life. I’m awarded a one day sober coin for my efforts, along with a bunch of superficial support from people I’ve never met.

Thanks, but no thanks.

I want Gina as my sponsor. This feels awkward and peculiar. That’s ok, though. It’s just for today. One day at a time. What more can I ask for? How about some clean pussy and primo drugs, bitch?

“Gina, let’s go get some coffee or something. I’m buying.”

“Okay,” she agrees with a smile.

We’re walking out through the doors of deception when she pulls out her phone and says, “Oh my fucking God! I just got a text… Lemmy has passed on to the afterlife!”

“What the fuck? That’s terrible! I was supposed to see them this summer at the PE Pavilion! Lemmy doesn’t know how to die…”

I give her a big warm hug for comfort. Lemmy was the man, but I don’t want him spoiling the mood.

“I’m so fucking depressed now. First my asshole ex-boyfriend, and now the demise of Motörhead…I can’t take any more. Today’s a fine day to relapse…”

“I completely agree, honey. Let’s go score some shit.”

“No need; I’ve got a Suboxone in my car. I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.”

Rain magically begins to fall from the gray, depressing skies of Pittsburgh as we make a run for her old, beat-up Toyota Camry in the parking lot. Whatever pessimism was left inside me has now completely depleted. This plan so far is perfect!

Gina cuts the Suboxone strip into four pieces and hands one to me. I never took this shit before, so I ask her what to do with it. She tells me to put it under my tongue, but warns me of the awful fruity taste that lingers afterwards before lunging at me and jamming her tongue down my throat.

We make out for a minute; she’s a good kisser. I manage to slip my hands up under her tank top and cop a good feel during this transition. Wow. These are some firm titties. I can’t help but feel the death of Lemmy has helped me in my conquest. I know in a way it’s kinda fucked up, but I’m sure Lemmy wouldn’t mind. The man was all about pussy.

Now we’re driving to the store for some beer, listening to Motörhead’s Iron Fist album, my personal favorite. The album itself is perfect. Not a single throwaway track on it, plus it’s the last album with Fast Eddie on guitar. It was all downhill for the band after this one. Gina happens to agree with my every word. She has good taste in drugs and music. I’m feeling the effects of this Suboxone already. I haven’t been this fucked since yesterday. Those fools at the NA meeting are missing out, big time. Just for today, huh? Yeah, there’s always tomorrow.

By the time I run into the store for a cheap six pack, I’m beyond fucked up. I must look like a real piece of shit in here, rubbing my face and scratching all over. I quickly make my purchase, running back to her car with lightning speed. I’m eager to smell her vagina. Nothing’s more exciting than fresh snatch.

Back at my place, Gina has me straddled with her tongue down my throat once again. I manage to get her shirt and bra off, sucking those perky tits. I can already feel the pre-cum seeping out my cock, just one step away from discovering the color of her pubic hair.

That’s when she jumps off of me and says, “I’m sorry, Mario. It’s too soon; I just can’t do this…”

I gaze up at her say, “Honey, please don’t do this to me. It’s not right. You’ve got me all worked up over here.”

She says, “I’m sorry, I just can’t,” as she takes another swig of beer. “It’s nothing personal, so please don’t take it the wrong way.”

“Fuck this. If I were a stamp bag, I’d be in you already. Where’s your imagination? Pretend I’m a fucking bundle of dope, damn it!”

“Mario, you’re becoming hostile. I don’t like it!”

I take a big swig of beer, hold it in my mouth, and spit it right into her pretty little face. It goes everywhere; into her eyes, into her mouth, and even up her nose. She’s a walking disaster at this point, and frankly I’ve got some cleaning up to do. But first things first; time to rid myself of this garbage.

“You son of a bitch!” she screams, staggering backwards as she wipes her face with her hands.

Who’s being hostile now, bitch?

“Get out you junkie whore! Get the fuck out! My modest cock is too good for anyways!”

“No! We need to talk about this!”

Jesus Christ. I thought a mouthful of beer in the face would be all the initiative anyone could possibly need to walk out that door. Fuck, I guess not… Maybe my contemptuous feelings aren’t getting through to her.

So I go for round two; another mouthful of beer in her face. She’s screaming at me again, only this time she’s walking out the door as intended. Her hair is soaked and her makeup is running all over the place. I never did get to tap that ass, but now that ass is a thing of the past. God grant me the strength to carry on. This is bullshit.

“Good riddance, you fucking heroin addict! Shoot up or shut up, bitch! God’s an asshole and so are you!”

The door to my apartment slams shut, along with this chapter of my disappointing existence. Well fuck my life. I’m back to square one again, and my ugly friend Tony is knee-deep in primo pussy. I tell ya, I’ve got all the luck in the world when it comes to drugs, but little to none when it comes to women.

Maybe I’m just not ugly enough. That’s what I’ve noticed about dating in Pittsburgh. It’s always some hot-ass bitch walking around with some goofy-looking dude. These cunts are shallow in the opposite aspect. Fuck it. At least I’m stoned and alone.

I’ll relax as I scratch in peace. Maybe I’ll finish this Hemingway novel.

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