Finally some fun!

It was just getting light out Monday morning when I started driving home from work. It was overcast and gray and wet and my mind was mostly on getting some sleep. But as I drove I also began thinking about how bored I was. I really have been bored.

On the spur of the moment I decided to go have some fun. No idea what, but it's been way too long since I've had any. I had all day. I got on the Eisenhower and started heading west. Traffic was already slow and I wondered if I'd made a mistake but soon I was on I88, which was clear. Randomly I exited at Rt59 by Aurora, kept driving, and started looking around for something interesting. All of a sudden I was at Fox Valley Mall. I hadn't been there in many years. There's a road that rings the parking lots outside the mall. I drove slowly along the road, circling the mall a couple times, hoping something would catch my eye and wondering what kind of fun I can make for myself outside a mall that isn't open yet.

There's a greek restaurant on the west side of the mall. It has it's own building and it's own parking lot. The lot was empty. I drove around the back of the restaurant and saw a wooden enclosure where they keep their dumpster. But it was a pretty big enclosure for just a dumpster. I stopped and got out of the car to take a look. Could be interesting.

There were four dumpsters in the enclosure. Two for oil and grease, one for garbage, and one for recyclables (they're labeled). I like dumpsters. This whole enclosure is filthy. Little bits of garbage are all over the asphalt pavement and on the wooden walls. There's a shovel, a gray plastic garbage can, a stack of bricks, some firewood in a shed on one side. I guessed that everything customers wouldn't want to see is kept in there.

I wanted to play in the garbage. I've known for a long time that I can't keep pretending that I've changed and I don't need to do horrible things to myself anymore. I had to do something to make myself feel real again, and this was the time.

So I turned off the car and pulled the big wooden doors shut so I was fully shielded from view. I was taking a risk not knowing how soon the restaurant's kitchen staff would arrive, but I figured I had at least an hour. I took a deep breath and pressed on my crotch through my jeans. I was getting wet just from the anticipation of whatever might happen.

I got undressed, dropping my clothes on top of the stack of bricks, which seemed like the one relatively clean spot inside the enclosure. I probably didn't need to be totally naked but I did it anyway. It was still chilly out and the wet asphalt felt cold under my bare feet.

The biggest dumpster, a blue one with two black plastic lids, caught my attention first. This was the one for regular garbage. I lifted one of the lids and looked inside and saw only black for a moment until my eyes adjusted. It was empty. The garbage men must have come during the night. Disappointed, I quietly closed the lid. There was a little black dirt on my hand. I smeared it across my breast just to feel dirty. Another, smaller, dumpster was for grease and had just one lid. There was whitish gray and light brown grease congealed all around the edge of the lid with little bits of probably old food caked in it. It looked so awful I leaned forward smear my boobs into the grease. It felt rough and uncomfortable at first against my sensitive nipples, but it was also slippery and smelled bad. I liked it having it on my boobs. I wondered what was inside the dumpster. Lifting the lid I found a plastic grid across the opening, I guess to keep large things from falling inside, and below that was dark. I couldn't tell how much grease was inside, but the grid itself was caked in the same brown and gray crust of congealed grease. But there was much more of it. It formed little grease icicles everywhere. It looked truly gross. I ran my fingers along part of the grid. Gobs of the grease came off in my hand. I squeezed, feeling it ooze between my fingers. It had a sharp, sour smell to it. So disgusting. I brought my hand down between my legs and pressed the grease against my vaginal lips. It felt so nasty but so good at the same time. Smearing the grease between the lips with my middle finger, I thought yeah, my poor pussy's waited so long to get what it deserves. Finally...finally, some abuse.

 The front of the grease dumpster was too close to the wall for me to stand directly in front of it, or I'd have gotten more of myself onto the grid. Instead I managed to cover most of the front of my body with grease and ended up leaning against the grease dumpster playing with my clit. I was incredibly horny for the first time in a long time. I wished that the garbage dumpster hadn't been empty. That's when I noticed that gray plastic garbage can again. It was worth a look.

It turned out to be the jackpot. The can was about half full of discarded food. I could see pieces of vegetables, meat, noodles, rice, peels, mussel shells, all sorts of stuff mixed together with wet used napkins and used straws. I could tell immediately that they scrape off people's plates into this can coming back to the kitchen. I was surprised at how much of it there was. And it smelled really bad. I wanted it.

I pushed the garbage can over, got on my hands and knees, and started pulling the mess of discarded food out onto the filthy pavement in front of the dumpsters. I think I'm right that this was scraped off people's plates, but there also seemed to be scraps from the kitchen too. The garbage a little deeper down is darker and more brown. I decided it must be older than what's on top, so that's what I want. I practically had my head in the can as I scooped out garbage from deep inside.

 I noticed myself breathing hard. I hadn't been this excited in a long time. I sat down right in middle of the mess, scooped up a handful of it and pressed it against my vagina. It felt cold and gross but I didn't care. At least some of it went inside me. I was really wet already but the grease helped it go in.

This is what I wanted, I thought to myself. Naked, sitting in a pile of garbage and masturbating with it. My heart is pounding and I feel alive. I can get so sick from this but that just makes me more excited. There's a beer bottle in the pile. I pulled it out and set it aside. Some grayish lumps of something. I think it's fat and I push it into my vagina along with wilted, mushy greens and some rice. They must serve a lot of rice because it's everywhere. A long black and silver strip of skin from a fish. It really smelled putrid. I pushed it inside me too. This is what my body is for, I think. This is what my vagina is for, making me feel like this. Why did I try to avoid it for so long?

 My vagina felt full but I wanted to keep going. I thought of pushing it all out and starting over but I noticed the beer bottle again. I picked up the bottle and rolled myself over onto my side. Holding the bottle by the neck with both hands I pushed the large end of it into me. I closed my legs and pushed hard on the bottle. It made me cum right right then, really hard, with the bottle working like a plunger pushing the garbage deeper inside me and spreading it around to make room for more. It felt so good.

I wasn't even done cumming when I sat back up and pulled the beer bottle out of me and went right back to stuffing my vagina. I noticed a brownish-gray wad of gristle someone had chewed and spit out onto their plate. Lucky for me, I thought. I shoved it inside me. I found an octopus tentacle, eggplant peels, olive pits, a chicken bone, a kleenex, shrimp tails. I pushed it all inside me until nothing else would go in. I used the beer bottle as a plunger again, and just like before I suddenly began to orgasm. This time I was cumming because I was so full it hurt. It hurt more when I pushed on the bottle. I needed to take as much garbage as I could inside my vagina so I kept pushing on it anyway. I caught myself growling through my teeth from the effort of pushing so hard.

I slowly pulled the bottle out when I'd finished cumming again, hoping the garbage wouldn't gush right back out. It didn't, so I tried pushing a few more bits inside me. I didn't even know what they were. But now I'd stuffed myself with as much stinking, disgusting garbage as would fit, and my vagina was stretched as far as it could go. I was wet and filthy all over and shivering from the cold. I stood up as carefully as I could so none of my garbage would come out of me, but there was no way I could put my clothes back on this way. I peeked out between the wooden doors to the enclosure. Seeing nobody, I grabbed my clothes and shuffled, bent over, back to my car as quickly as I could. My vagina ached so much I couldn't stand up straight. It felt like I had a huge heavy ball inside me. Inside the car I balled up my jeans and put them under my crotch so nothing could come out while I sat. Throwing on my hooded sweatshirt, I started the car and got away with the heater at full blast.

Getting from the car into my apartment was a struggle, but fortunately there wasn't much chance I'd be seen unless one of my neighbors stayed home from work or something. I went straight to my bedroom and pulled on three pairs of really tight panties. Nothing comes out of me when I wear them like that. So I sat down on my bed and felt the lump inside me. I loved how it felt. It's garbage and I deserve to have it in me. It's disgusting and perverse but at least I don't feel dead like I usually do, trying to stay normal.

 I wondered if I should keep it inside me, carrying the garbage around inside my vagina for a while. Maybe even for a couple days, even if it makes me sick. But no. Bad idea. Instead I took out one of my vibrators and played it against my clit while I pushed the whole mess out of me onto some paper towels. I got to cum again.

The garbage is now in a sealed plastic container under the sink. I think I'm going to let it rot for a while and then see what I want to do with it. I also need to have my car's interior cleaned.

I wasted a lot of time denying myself. It's been way more than a year since I did anything like this. I kept thinking that it was my depression that made me want to do things to myself, and that if I succumbed to the desire I'd end up backsliding again, losing my job and everything I've worked so hard for. I was, and I am really scared of that ever happening. But maybe I don't have to be dead inside all the time. I went to work last night, and everything is fine. Maybe I'm a depraved, filthy pig who can also hold a job.

Hacked again

My blog got hacked again. Hopefully this time I figured out how. The kid that's been doing it defaced my last post so badly that I just deleted it. It was full of horrible racist stuff. I found the rough draft of the post:

I’ve been employed full-time for a year now! I’ve never worked in the same place this long before. I’m proud of having gone this long without being fired or being yelled at for not showing up for work. I’m glad my parents aren’t so worried about me anymore. I’m amazed that I actually have something in a savings account.

But it’s not all good. I do feel my depression stalking me sometimes. It tries to pull me down, makes me want to stay in bed and hide from my life. It feels like darkness. It feels like a huge hole right behind me waiting for me to stumble. I fight against falling into that hole all the time.

The problem is, when I let go, fall, and hit bottom, I start feeling again. I start feeling like myself. At the bottom, I am nothing, I have nothing, and filth and waste and decay become all I deserve and all I am. That’s when bugs and garbage and dog shit do more than just disgust me and I end up doing something worth writing about here…especially if I lose control of myself. I miss feeling like that.

I still fantasize a lot about things I’ve done and would still like to do to myself. But new ideas - really good, nasty, filthy ideas - don’t come. I used be able to find really perverted porn stories and draw ideas from them, but I’ve seen nothing new in a long time. Maybe I just don’t know where to look.

Checking in

Just thought I'd write here a little bit - the emails asking if I'm still around have begun, which makes me feel a little guilty. I'm still here, I'm still okay, and still employed - amazingly enough.

I'm actually thinking of going back to school to become a paralegal. It's not something I'm especially interested in, but I think it might be a smart thing to do. I do work in a law office, after all.

I had an awkward moment during a visit to the gyne. I have a new doctor now because of different insurance and I went for my first annual last week. While she was examining me, looking inside me, she was like, hey, what happened to you? So I told her about having had toxic shock syndrome, but not without my face also flushing red. She asked me how I got it. I mumbled something about a bacterial infection, trying to deliberately sound stupid. I could tell by her expression that she thought I was being evasive, and she kind of stopped asking.

But she did tell me one thing that I didn't know before. I already knew that I am basically sterile, unable to get pregnant, but I've never known exactly why. She explained that it was because of scar tissue. There's apparently a lot of scarring in my vagina and especially on my cervix. Interesting to know. I'd always wondered. I guess I'm glad the scarring doesn't get in the way of having fun. It might have been sort of cool to have had some scarring on the outside where it would be visible. Then it would be kind of like a "medal of honor" for having managed to mutilate myself a little bit.

New Job

I’m back working in the law office now! I quit Target. That’s the first time I ever left a job without being fired. How depressing is that? The attorney that I'm working for, the one who asked me to come back, is actually a friend of my dad's going back to when I was little. I'm suspicious that he was doing my dad a favor by asking me to come back. It would explain why he's also agreed to put me on the health insurance plan the rest of the office staff is on...yeah! Anyway, this is the best job I've ever had and I'm grateful to have a second chance at it.

I don’t mean to disappoint, but I’ve been kind of a clean girl lately. Probably just haven’t been depressed enough since I started the new job. I cleaned up the apartment a little bit, enough to realize I had an ant problem last summer but didn’t notice. I separated out the empty pizza boxes from the stacks of magazines, too. I even put makeup on for the first time in ages. No reason, just felt good to do it.

Anybody who’s reading this has probably already done it, but I Googled “blowfly_girl” recently. I had no idea how much attention the stuff I’ve written has gotten. Looks like the consensus is that I must be sick in the head. Well, duh! What’s funny are blog comments and forums where people shock each other by posting links to my stories.

I’m not going to betray any confidences, but I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve been exchanging emails with someone who has had an experience with maggots similar to mine. She got the idea from reading about what I did. I’m pretty sure she’s sincere. She knows way too much about what maggots do when you mess around with them, and how they feel on your body. Either that or she studies insects for a living and she’s just playing with me.

I’m not sure how I feel about having inspired someone to do that to themselves.

Dilemma

I’ve been asked to come back to a job that I got fired from a couple years ago, can you believe it? It was the perfect job, too. I was doing transcription and office work for an attorney who paid me really well and let me work in the office alone if I wanted. I set my own hours and usually worked overnight. But now I have a dilemma. I’m not sure if I can take the job back.

The reason is sort of because of an email I got a couple of weeks ago from a woman who said, “Your stories got me hotter than anything I have ever read,” and gave me a link to a story for me to read. It’s called “Julie’s Slide into Depravity”. Well, I knew about that one already. It’s one of my all-time favorite porn stories, although it’s a lot more violent than I like, and the author made Julie way too young. Even so, there’s a part of the story with maggots, and it ended up being was one of the things that made me start thinking about maggots myself. Anyway, the email reminded me about the “Julie” story and I ended up reading it again.

There’s another part of the story where Julie is forced to pick up piles of dog shit off the ground and stuff them into her vagina. Since I’m a sick, perverted pig, I find that idea extremely erotic, and I’ve had experiences with dog shit too. But I was thinking about the story while I was in the city Wednesday last week dropping off a costume I made a long time ago for a co-worker who’s doing community theater. After I left her place, I got a little lost and ended up driving through an alley to turn around. I saw a whole bunch of dog turds scattered along the base of a building and around a garbage dumpster. So, of course, I couldn’t help myself. I drove around the block and came back to the alley, found a plastic Jewel bag in the dumpster, and collected all of the dog shit in the bag.

I have difficulty controlling myself sometimes when I get really horny, no surprise. I found a dark area to park the car in a viaduct under the Ravenswood ‘L’ tracks, pulled my jeans down, and started pushing dog shit into my vagina. It smelled horrible. The turds were all different sizes and colors so it was probably from different dogs. Some of it was kind of messy and some was all hard and dried up, but I kept putting more and more shit inside me. I didn’t stop until it hurt. It made me cum really hard. My tummy was quivering after the orgasm. Then I put my pants back on and drove home. I carried the shit around in my vagina, constantly horny, humping the furniture and fingering myself to orgasm on and off until Thursday afternoon, when I needed to end my depraved little dog shit adventure, clean up, and go to work.

By this past weekend I had a really itchy rash between my legs and discharge from my vagina, and it felt like it was getting worse and worse until finally, on Monday, once I’d already scratched my crotch raw, I realized that I had a ton of tiny little white worms inside and all around my vagina. Again, because I’m a sick, perverted pig, that made me immediately horny all over again and I had to make myself cum despite the itching, before I went to the ER Monday night to get seen.

The doctor who looked at me said I had pinworms. He said that it’s rare to get a vaginal infestation of pinworms, but he’d seen it before. Of course, I pretended to be totally baffled how they got there as I was picturing a bunch of diseased, stray dogs shitting in an alley. He gave me a prescription for something called Vermox to get rid of the worms and Benadryl for the itching, and today I’m almost back to normal. A few scabby spots from all the scratching.

So anyway, the point of telling the story is that this was the second time in four months that I’ve gone to the ER (last time was for scabies). My insurance through work is covering both visits almost completely. Knowing me, I’ll be back there again. And that’s my dilemma. My current job is paying me $10.50/hr to stock shelves at night and I have health benefits. The hours suck, the work sucks, the pay sucks, but if I go back to my old job I’ll lose my insurance. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.

30

I’ll be turning 30 this month. I guess that’s supposed to be a milestone, but I’m pretty sure nobody’s planning a surprise party for me or anything. I can’t think of anybody in my life who’d want to do that. It’s my own fault for being such a loner. I don’t mind turning 30. When I was younger I had expectations about what my life would be like at 30. I was way off the mark. I thought that I’d be working professionally as a costume designer for theater and movies, living in a trendy loft condo somewhere in Lincoln Park or something, surrounded by smart, sophisticated friends. Well, none of that has materialized yet!

Considering my history of not being able to hold a job for very long, I guess I should feel lucky that I’m employed at all right now, especially with the bad economy and everything. I have my own apartment and I have a car to drive, though I am still “heavily subsidized” by my parents, as my dad says. They don’t mind. I’m sure they’re very relieved that I’ve been emotionally stable.

I guess I should set a goal to actually do something useful for myself this year. Do something besides slowly destroying myself through my perversion for filth. I mean, so far what have I done? I nearly killed myself six years ago having sex with blowfly maggots, wrote about it on my old Geocities page, and the story became mildly infamous as one of the most disgusting stories on the Internet. My gynecologist says she can tell that I’m unable to get pregnant anymore. At least I’m well on my way to destroying myself. It’s an achievement.

Seriously, though, I have to mention that I’ve read comments on my blog and gotten emails from people wishing me well and hoping I will seek help. If you’re one of them, thank you for being concerned. Really, sincerely. You sound like nice compassionate people. But I’m okay. While I was growing up, my parents made me go to counseling, see psychiatrists, take antidepressants, all sorts of stuff. I’m happier without any help. And I’m only a danger to myself a very small percentage of the time. There’s a lot more to my life that I don’t discuss on my blog that if you knew about, you’d see I’m pretty normal.

Dead Deer - second maggot story

A few of my old contacts have emailed me asking if I would post the story of my second encounter with maggots. It’s been about two years since it happened and I had written about it the next day on my Multiply page. Unfortunately Multiply deleted that page. I lost the story and everything. I hadn’t kept a copy because I did everything from a computer at work. It’s all gone.

A lot of detail fades over time, but I tried my best to re-write the experience. Once I got started some of it came back to me and I ended up really enjoying it. I’m glad I took the time. Hopefully I haven’t misremembered anything important.

It happened on a Sunday afternoon while I was driving back home from Milwaukee. I can’t remember now whether it was the weekend of Summerfest or Labor Day, but it was one of the two. As I mentioned, the following Monday night I wrote the whole thing out at work and uploaded it to my Multiply page. I even got brave and took some pictures before my hands got too dirty. I uploaded a couple of those to the page too – only the ones that I felt safe showing. Not a lot of me in them…not a lot of my flabby, disgusting, pale body in them, actually. I really wish I had even those few back. Multiply didn’t respond to my email when I asked.

Anyway, I was driving home on some other highway besides I94 because I expected there would probably be a traffic jam after the state line. The weather was hot, humid, and sunny. I wish I remember what road it was, but I don’t anymore. I haven’t been back.

I noticed a smell. A really bad smell. I knew it was the smell of something decaying. The smell got stronger then faded away as I drove, but it kind of stuck in my nose. It stuck with me enough to get my imagination going, and after a few seconds I made the mental connection between the odor, a dead animal, maggots, and all of a sudden I was looking for a spot to turn the car around. It was a stupid thing to do, I knew, but I didn’t have anything specific in mind. Just the idea that there might be something putrid and interesting to see.

I remember stopping on the shoulder of the highway at the point where the odor seemed strongest and felt kind of disappointed in myself. I’d been a good girl for a long time, ever since I recovered from my dumpster “adventure” with maggots that put me in the hospital, but now I was not feeling very much like a good girl.

But my imagination was getting ahead of me. At that point I still didn’t know where the rotting smell was coming from. There was a ditch and a grass embankment along either side of the highway, a few patches of trees, and cornfields. I knew from how strong the odor was that it had to be something nearby, but as I got out of my car I wondered how I would find it. I was clever enough to notice the direction of the warm breeze, so knew I needed to be on the other side of the highway.

I remember I was wearing a white hippie-like sundress with yellow and pink flowers on it, and a pair of sandals. I knew the sandals weren’t ideal for poking around in the tall grass, but I figured I wasn’t going to try too hard anyway. Crossing the highway, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but I was letting my darker side drag me along, pretending I couldn’t help it. I wanted to convince myself that I was just curious, but I was getting horny just imagining what I might find. I looked all around me as I walked along the shoulder of the highway, trying not to miss anything hidden under bushes and stuff.

For a few minutes, I tried to be sensible and forced myself to just go back to my car and forget about it. I wanted to be good. I really did. I marched myself back across the highway. On the other hand, I thought, well, maybe it wasn’t so bad just to look. Standing by the car, I figured I’d walked away once now, I could do it again. I noticed the canvas bag I left in my back seat which had my beach stuff and my little camera in it. Maybe I could just take some pictures of whatever I found. I grabbed the bag and crossed the highway again to keep looking.

After a few minutes of searching it was pretty obvious to me that the smell wasn’t coming from anything along the embankment. There was only one area left to search, and there I found what I hoped I find…what I was afraid I’d find. At the corner of one of the cornfields there was an old billboard, behind which was a patch of trees and bushes. The trees hid a shaded, kind of secluded area right behind the billboard. Pushing past the bushes I found, lying in the dirt, the decomposing body of a deer. The smell was almost more than I could handle at first but I had to stop and stare. I have no idea whether it was a male or female. Any difference had already been consumed by decay and…maggots. I thought, oh, no.

The fur of the deer and begun to come off in places, especially around the head, revealing the skin underneath which had a greasy-looking texture, mostly black but with splotches of gray, brown, and greenish-gray. The deer’s belly had split open almost the entire length from its chest all the way down between its hind legs. The deer was lying sort of on its side, so that its right legs were sticking up in the air and its left legs were on the ground. I guessed that the deer might have been killed or died, and the farmer just dragged the carcass to a spot where it could rot away.

The open belly of the deer was a huge mass of maggots. There had to be thousands of them, grayish-brown maggots writhing and churning and filling every part of the open belly. Maggots even covered part of the ground on the side the deer leaned toward, probably consuming whatever fluids that were oozing from the body. Little black beetles crawled among the maggots and dozens of flies buzzed around the carcass.

I set my bag down and stood staring at the carcass, completely mesmerized. I felt myself beginning to feel really horny again. This had to be one of the most disgusting, nauseating things I had ever seen. I want this, I thought. I want to be its whore, because I’m a depraved, filthy pig and this is what I deserve. I have no choice. These are the thoughts I’m having while I continue to stand there with my mouth hanging open. My dress is suddenly hiked up and one hand is in my panties.

Stop now, I tell myself, just take some pictures and leave. I want to take some really close pictures of the maggots, but I’m afraid to kneel down because of my dress. Of course I can’t be wearing the dress, I thought, it’ll get dirty…and now I had my excuse to remove it. Within a few moments I had taken all of my clothes off. The sundress and my underwear were draped over the branches of a large bush. I laid my beach blanket on the ground next to the deer. It felt so, so, erotic to me to be nude, outdoors, so near to this nauseating, stinking carcass. Flies landed on my skin. It felt like they were inviting me.

I took a bunch of pictures of the deer and the maggots, some really close up. I took the remote off my camera, set the camera down on one part of the frame of the billboard, and took more pictures that showed some of me in them near the maggots. I even took one where I was touching the maggots with my finger. It felt warm, but I was still really grossed out by it. I hadn’t even seen a maggot since my last experience.

A car went by on the highway. It startled me…but not for very long. I was feeling pretty secure now in my little hiding place with my new friend. The secluded area was almost disturbingly perfect.

Even though I was pretending to be in control of myself, I kind of knew, from the moment I’d found the deer, that I was going to do something stupid.

I stood up and stepped over the carcass with one leg. Staring down into the seething mass of maggots I felt like such a worthless, perverted piece of shit to be aroused by the sight. But I was so aroused. I was soaking wet. There was no way I could control what I did now. I had to feel them again. I needed it.

I squatted down above the carcass, feeling one of the deer’s hind legs against my lower back. Forcing back the urge to gag again, I removed my fingers from my vagina and sank them into the thick mass of maggots in front of me. I could feel the heat below the surface of the mass as they squirmed around my fingers. I stopped for a moment to think about what I was doing, but like an addict, I couldn’t stop myself. I really tried. Sort of.

Naked with a decomposing animal carcass, staring at the writhing, disgusting maggots, I felt like I’d never been so horny in all my life. I lifted my hand out of the maggot mass and held it in front of my face, looking at all of the maggots that clung to my skin. I felt my stomach rising into my throat and barely avoided gagging once again. Instead I slowly brought my hand down between my legs and pressed my maggot-covered fingers between my vaginal lips.

No, no…I whispered to myself, beginning to weep a little. My eyes were tearing up. How could I do this to myself again? I’m not a human being, I thought. I’m lower than a pig. I’m not even an animal. I’m garbage. I’m waste. My heart was pounding and I could feel maggots squirming between my fingers and my pussy and it’s disgusting and it feels so good.

And then I had a sudden realization that I had no idea what kind of maggots these were. They might not eat just dead tissue, like blowfly maggots. The thought made my clit pulse hard against my hand. Oh no, I thought, dropping onto my knees so I was kneeling just above the carcass with my legs spread wide apart. These maggots, they might bite me. They might burrow into me, infest me for real. I felt so much need right then. I scooped up a handful of maggots in my shaking hand and pressed them against, and into, my vagina. I began to orgasm. I felt so good and so disgusting at the same time. I didn’t want to stop so I shoveled another handful of maggots into my vagina, then another, and another.

I plunged my hand back into the maggot mass, deeper this time, grabbing and tugging at the decaying, partially liquefied guts beneath. No longer covered by the maggots, the odor of the decay was so strong it forced me to drop the unidentifiable glob of entrails I held in my hand. But I should have that inside me too, I thought. It’s what I need…what I deserve. I picked the repulsive piece of deer guts back up and pushed it entirely into my vagina, crushing and pushing aside numerous maggots. I was panting now, feeling drunk with arousal. There was no stopping myself now, I knew, as I allowed myself to sink my fat flabby ass down into the carcass, burying my pussy in maggots and decay. I could feel both solid and soft things beneath me along with the constant wriggling of thousands of maggots. I began to hump my pussy against something firm, whatever it was, buried deep under the maggots.

I felt like I was out of my mind, now totally reveling in the horror of what I was doing to myself, grinding my hips and thrusting my infested cunt into the carcass as hard as I could.

Maggots were oozing out of my vagina as I thrashed about. I did my best with shaking hands to cram them back inside. I clutched at anything beneath me, maggots, guts, even some of the little black beetles, anything to pollute myself inside even worse. I kept humping and humping against the carcass, unable to stop even if I’d wanted to.

A new, strong orgasm overcame me, making my head spin. As I climaxed, I let myself slowly fall forward, my tummy coming down to lie on the open belly of the carcass. With my fat ass still humping uncontrollably against the rotting guts, I realized my face was now close to the deer’s head. With my finger, I gently poked at the maggots infesting the deer’s eye socket, watching them writhe as my orgasm faded.

And then I surprised myself. I usually feel really bad after I’ve done something sick and perverse, kind of a mix of defeat, guilt, disgust, disappointment. This time I didn’t. I felt filthy, but still very erotically filthy. I was at the bottom. I’d become the repulsiveness I was getting off on. Reluctantly lifting myself off of the deer carcass, I sat for a few minutes catching my breath, feeling both the exhausted throbbing between my legs and the crawling of the little beasts still clinging to my skin.

I wiped off my hands on my beach towel and picked up the camera remote. I took a couple pictures of myself with my boobs, my belly, my crotch and my thighs completely smeared with disgusting slime, bits of decayed deer guts, and lots of maggots.

I could still feel maggots moving in my vagina, too. As violent as I’d been, I hadn’t killed them all. Infested inside and out, I didn’t want the feeling to go away. Moving as carefully as I could to keep from squeezing anything out of my vagina, I got dressed without removing any of the filth on me.

I drove the rest of the way home with my beach towel covering the driver’s seat. I had my fingers in my panties several times, playing with my clit and feeling the tiny monsters that continued to squirm between my legs. I didn’t cum at all, but I stayed close to it.

Incredibly, I never became sick or had any infection from the experience, maybe because I got in the bathtub and cleaned myself really well as soon as I was home. My sundress, bra, panties, and beach towel all went in the trash. No big loss. What I really miss is the pictures I took.