But Today Wasn't like Most Days.

But Today Wasn't Like Most Days.


Most days I remain glued to the computer screen from the moment I rise to the moment I decide to fire off one last time before bed.  I usually split my time clicking between multiple Internet tabs for inspiration, and then exposing my pride on webcam, putting on a show for lucky viewers, with me, mega stud, Max Michigan, as the star, front and center, rock hard and at my finest.  And never wanting the show to end, I’ve gone lengths to fool those watching me. Sometimes I’ll nix ejaculation--I am only human, after all--in favor of spraying endless loads of well-hydrated piss. If I pinch my shaft and moan accordingly, nobody's the wiser.  Trust me; I'm a professional.        

So, there I was, naked in my bathroom, sitting on the lip of the tub with a semi-erect cock and a bladder ready to burst.  My laptop perched on the toilet seat in front of me, headphones jacked in, and porn queued up.  I was ready to play.  

I logged into Skype to call one of my regulars—a dominatrix by the name of Venus.  For the last few months I’ve been paying Venus $10 a session for Jerk off instructions, or J.O.I., as they’re commonly referred to.  I deposited $10 into her Paypal account and called with my camera aimed solely on my fevered fapping, knowing full well Venus wouldn't give two shits about seeing my face.  I anticipated her getting right down to business and jumping into character, spewing her usual stream of filth and grime, but instead she answered looking glum, sniffling while dabbing a rag over her left eye.

“I’m going to have to let you go,” she said.  "For good."  

“Awe, come on, why?” I asked, eager to play. 

“I’m going to jail,” she said.   

“Yeah, ok, whatever,” I said.  “Come on, you want me to spray or what?”

“Max." she said soberly.  "I am going to jail.  I just fucking killed a guy.  There’s blood all over my floor!” Venus craned her neck to the right, staring, contemplating, letting the rag fall.  I noticed her eye was bloodshot and the socket puffy“I have to call you back,” she said.   

Before I could say anything Venus hung up and signed out, leaving me limp and dumbfounded.

What the fuck?

She couldn’t have possibly been serious, right?  I mean, you don’t just kill someone and then immediately answer a Skype call from some fucking pervert ready to piss all over himself; that can't possibly be your first move after murder.  

On the other hand, maybe it isn’t too far fetched of an idea, Venus killing somebody.  I know for a fact she's had some violent run-ins in the past.  I remember about a month ago she was camming with a black eye and a busted lip after getting, “Jumped by some junkie,” she said.  I can only wonder if her victim was the same guy; maybe it was payback, a well thought out plan.  Or maybe it was a crime of passion, self defense; a new client who was a little overzealous, took things just one step too far, leaving Venus no choice but to fight back, and then in a daze she continued about her day as if nothing had happened, business as usual.  

Regardless, if she's telling me the truth and she actually just fucking killed somebody, chances are I’ll be getting a call from the cops.  Think about it, the two of us communicated--possibly even corroborated in their minds--me with my dick in my hand, and her with a corpse by her feet.  That kind of thing requires explanation.  Great.  Just one more thing I need to worry about; yet another turn of the screw in the misadventures of Max Michigan.