The Horniest Man in the World
Once upon a time there was a man named Elazar ben Durdaya and he was literally the horniest man in the world. He was horny all the time. He woke up horny and went to sleep horny. Fat girls made him horny and thin girls made him horny. Tall girls and short girls, black girls and white girls.
So Elazar ben Durdaya fucked a lot of chicks. Like hundreds. Maybe thousands. So many that he got a reputation for it. That was his thing. That was what he was known for. They used to say that there wasn’t a single prostitute in
Elazar ben Durdaya didn’t love women. He just loved to fuck women. He did not see women as people at all, but as objects of sexual desire and conquest. So obsessed was he with the physical act of sex that he never once opened up his heart or his soul, never once did he surf the oceans of true emotion, remaining forever locked in pure a****l consciousness.
One day Elazar ben Durdaya was drinking in a tavern by the docks, just down the road from one of his favorite brothels. He had spent the entire morning in the company of two exotic slave girls and he had now come to engage his second favorite pastime — drinking.
At the table next to him were a group of sailors engaged in the most graphic and explicit locker room talk about all the prostitutes they had engaged in their days on the high seas. As each sailor spoke and the stories progressed the women became more beautiful, more expensive and the sex more outrageous. Elazar sat there, transfixed and engrossed, getting hornier and hornier, until an ancient sailor, missing an eye and a leg, finally croaked up.
“In the land of Tzur, past seven rivers is a temple to the Goddess Ishtar. The high priestess of the temple is chosen from the most beautiful women of the land, and trained from the time of her first bleeding in the arts of sex and pleasure. As a sacrifice to the goddess a man can pay the temple twenty talents of silver for one night with the priestess. Kings and Emperors have come to make this journey and all of them say that one night with the High Priestess of Ishtar in Tzur was greater than all of the pleasure with all of the other women in all of their lives.”
Suddenly Elazar ben Durdaya was seized with an intense passion and longing. In his mind’s eye he imagined this woman who had been had by Kings and Emperors. The super prostitute. The greatest fuck in the world. A sex that only the very finest and most powerful men could ever have. In his twisted, juvenile little mind, lust mixed with jealousy, horniness mixed with FOMO and soon his entire being, his entire sense of self worth and masculinity became completely tied up in the idea of having this one single woman. In his heart of hearts he began to believe that only by experiencing this fuck of all fucks could his life ever be complete, could he ever truly be a man.
Twenty talents of silver was serious money, even for a man as wealthy as Elazar ben Durdaya. But so seized was he with the need to have this priestess that he sold his lands and his slaves, and amassed the entire fortune and then more, to make the journey to the far off land of Tzur by ship, and then booked passage by camel to traverse the seven rivers until finally, after many many months he came at last to the glittering Temple of Ishtar. He sent his servants ahead with the caravan holding the twenty talents of silver to announce that he, Elazar ben Durdaya had come to offer sacrifice to the Great Goddess, a sacrifice of money and a sacrifice of seed, both to be delivered to the High Priestess, personally.
He was greeted at the gates by hundreds of dancing girls, each wave hotter, sexier, more stunning than the last, until finally the High Priestess herself walked out from the temple. She was quite literally the single most smoking hot babe than he had ever before seen in his entire life.
She led him inside the temple where naked women took off his clothes and washed him from his journey and then he was led to an ornate bedroom where the high priestess was there naked and waiting for him.
And then they began to fuck.
And not even five minutes into it and Elazar ben Durdaya realised that this was the single greatest fuck of his entire life. It was mindblowing. Perfect. Thrusting and sliding and heaving and grinding they fucked and fucked and he built closer and closer until finally, unable to hold it in any longer he let go and erupted inside her in a mind-shattering orgasmic explosion.
As he was cumming uncontrollably, synapses exploding from the pleasure, his system entirely flooded with endorphin, at his most open and most vulnerable moment — the high priestess grabbed him violently by his head and looked deep into his eyes and snarled at him a voice of pure ice:
“By the power of the Great Mother
And in the name of every one of my sisters
I curse you!
Just as your cum will never return to your cock -
So too you will never return to your God.”
And Elazar ben Durdaya freaked the fuck out.
The endorphin transformed to adrenaline and the fear response kicked in and he was seized with terror and fright. His balls shrivelled up into his stomach and he ran, naked, covered in sweat and semen, out of the temple, screaming like a madman.
He rushed outside and ran up a mountain and when he reached the summit, still heaving and panting the fear and adrenaline still flooding through him, he called out to the Sky.
“Sky! Sky! Beg mercy for me. I am a cursed man. I will never be able to return to God, my soul will be in exile for all eternity, please, please have mercy on me and pray for me, so that my soul might find redemption.”
But the Sky was offended by Elazar ben Durdaya and answered back in a huff. “Pray for you? Why would i pray for you, mere mortal? I have my own problems! For it is written that in the End of Days the sky will will be ashen and red, and choked from fire and plumes of smoke, the heavens will burn and the air will seethe. I don’t have time to pray for you. I am praying for myself!”
The sky’s rejection scorched bitter through his heart and from on top of that mountain he then looked down below at the Earth and he said:
“Earth! Earth! Beg mercy for me. I beg you, I beseech you. I have been cursed and will never be able to return to God. Please pray for me so that one day my soul might find redemption.” And the Earth retorted back in an outrage. “Pray for you? Why would I pray for you, mere mortal? I have my own problems. For it is written: At the End of Days the Earth will be dry and lifeless, and trees will wither and the a****ls will die. I don’t have time to pray for you. I am praying for myself.“
Crushed by his rejection from the Earth he slowly wandered down off that mountain in a bewildered daze, until he reached the ocean and he turned to the Ocean and he said:
“Ocean! Ocean! Beg mercy for me” And once again the familiar response. “Pray for you? I have my own problems. For in the End of days the oceans will boil and the seas will burn and the fish will die and the waters will be turned to blood. I don’t have time to pray for you. I am praying for myself.”
Elazar Ben Durdaya turned to the Sun and the Moon, to the Rivers and the Lakes and the Forests and the Trees, to the Birds and the Bees and everywhere he went, no matter who he asked, the answer was always the same.
“Pray for you? I have my own problems. I am praying for myself.”
Finally, exhausted, at his absolute wits end, full of self-pity and self-entitlement, realising that truly, nobody in the Universe cared about him at all, , he cried out to the heavens in a primal scream of self-realisation:
“It’s all up to me.”
And then he lay down and curled himself into foetal position and he began to cry. He cried and cried and as he cried, in his tear-soaked imagination came the faces of all the women he had ever slept with. He saw all the missed opportunities for intimacy, all the missed opportunities to know another person, to know himself.
The ice-cold voice of the high priestess rang through every corridor of his consciousness and in those moments he experienced an entire lifetime of the deepest most painful longing for intimacy, and he cried and cried and cried. In fact, he cried so much, that he cried himself to death. And as his soul escaped from his body a voice boomed out from the heavens and said:
“The repentance of Master Elazar ben Durdaya has been accepted.” And his soul, shining and pure, ascended high up into the heavens and found a place nestled at the very side of God.
Soon this story began to spread. How? Since no one was there to witness the strange death of Elazar ben Durdaya — no one knows. Nevertheless. The story spread, far and wide, told in taverns and brothels, and city squares and market places all across the two Empires, until eventually the story was told to the Great Master, Leader of all the Sages, the Prince of Israel himself.
The Great Master heard the story and when it was finished, he began to weep.
His disciples, who were gathered around him said:
“Great Master, Great Master — Why do you weep? Is this not a good story? Does it not demonstrate the power of true and honest soul searching and repentance? Does it not show God’s infinite power to forgive?”
And the Master looked at them through his tear soaked eyes and said:
“Some of us struggle our entire lives to earn our place in the World to Come. We introspect, we worry about others, we constantly wonder if we have done the right thing. We live in constant self-doubt and strive every day to become a better person. While others live their entire lives totally selfish and self-centred, seeing the world only from their own narrow and vain point of view, and only when faced with death itself do they roll into a ball and cry like a baby and all is forgiven. And to add insult to injury, God himself calls them Master!!!”
The disciples sat stunned in front of the Great Master, speechless, and then he leaned towards them, as if to tell them some great secret, and the disciples leaned in towards him and he said in barely a whisper.
“My dear disciples. You must understand. Most of the times God makes no goddamned sense.”
So Elazar ben Durdaya fucked a lot of chicks. Like hundreds. Maybe thousands. So many that he got a reputation for it. That was his thing. That was what he was known for. They used to say that there wasn’t a single prostitute in
Elazar ben Durdaya didn’t love women. He just loved to fuck women. He did not see women as people at all, but as objects of sexual desire and conquest. So obsessed was he with the physical act of sex that he never once opened up his heart or his soul, never once did he surf the oceans of true emotion, remaining forever locked in pure a****l consciousness.
One day Elazar ben Durdaya was drinking in a tavern by the docks, just down the road from one of his favorite brothels. He had spent the entire morning in the company of two exotic slave girls and he had now come to engage his second favorite pastime — drinking.
At the table next to him were a group of sailors engaged in the most graphic and explicit locker room talk about all the prostitutes they had engaged in their days on the high seas. As each sailor spoke and the stories progressed the women became more beautiful, more expensive and the sex more outrageous. Elazar sat there, transfixed and engrossed, getting hornier and hornier, until an ancient sailor, missing an eye and a leg, finally croaked up.
“In the land of Tzur, past seven rivers is a temple to the Goddess Ishtar. The high priestess of the temple is chosen from the most beautiful women of the land, and trained from the time of her first bleeding in the arts of sex and pleasure. As a sacrifice to the goddess a man can pay the temple twenty talents of silver for one night with the priestess. Kings and Emperors have come to make this journey and all of them say that one night with the High Priestess of Ishtar in Tzur was greater than all of the pleasure with all of the other women in all of their lives.”
Suddenly Elazar ben Durdaya was seized with an intense passion and longing. In his mind’s eye he imagined this woman who had been had by Kings and Emperors. The super prostitute. The greatest fuck in the world. A sex that only the very finest and most powerful men could ever have. In his twisted, juvenile little mind, lust mixed with jealousy, horniness mixed with FOMO and soon his entire being, his entire sense of self worth and masculinity became completely tied up in the idea of having this one single woman. In his heart of hearts he began to believe that only by experiencing this fuck of all fucks could his life ever be complete, could he ever truly be a man.
Twenty talents of silver was serious money, even for a man as wealthy as Elazar ben Durdaya. But so seized was he with the need to have this priestess that he sold his lands and his slaves, and amassed the entire fortune and then more, to make the journey to the far off land of Tzur by ship, and then booked passage by camel to traverse the seven rivers until finally, after many many months he came at last to the glittering Temple of Ishtar. He sent his servants ahead with the caravan holding the twenty talents of silver to announce that he, Elazar ben Durdaya had come to offer sacrifice to the Great Goddess, a sacrifice of money and a sacrifice of seed, both to be delivered to the High Priestess, personally.
He was greeted at the gates by hundreds of dancing girls, each wave hotter, sexier, more stunning than the last, until finally the High Priestess herself walked out from the temple. She was quite literally the single most smoking hot babe than he had ever before seen in his entire life.
She led him inside the temple where naked women took off his clothes and washed him from his journey and then he was led to an ornate bedroom where the high priestess was there naked and waiting for him.
And then they began to fuck.
And not even five minutes into it and Elazar ben Durdaya realised that this was the single greatest fuck of his entire life. It was mindblowing. Perfect. Thrusting and sliding and heaving and grinding they fucked and fucked and he built closer and closer until finally, unable to hold it in any longer he let go and erupted inside her in a mind-shattering orgasmic explosion.
As he was cumming uncontrollably, synapses exploding from the pleasure, his system entirely flooded with endorphin, at his most open and most vulnerable moment — the high priestess grabbed him violently by his head and looked deep into his eyes and snarled at him a voice of pure ice:
“By the power of the Great Mother
And in the name of every one of my sisters
I curse you!
Just as your cum will never return to your cock -
So too you will never return to your God.”
And Elazar ben Durdaya freaked the fuck out.
The endorphin transformed to adrenaline and the fear response kicked in and he was seized with terror and fright. His balls shrivelled up into his stomach and he ran, naked, covered in sweat and semen, out of the temple, screaming like a madman.
He rushed outside and ran up a mountain and when he reached the summit, still heaving and panting the fear and adrenaline still flooding through him, he called out to the Sky.
“Sky! Sky! Beg mercy for me. I am a cursed man. I will never be able to return to God, my soul will be in exile for all eternity, please, please have mercy on me and pray for me, so that my soul might find redemption.”
But the Sky was offended by Elazar ben Durdaya and answered back in a huff. “Pray for you? Why would i pray for you, mere mortal? I have my own problems! For it is written that in the End of Days the sky will will be ashen and red, and choked from fire and plumes of smoke, the heavens will burn and the air will seethe. I don’t have time to pray for you. I am praying for myself!”
The sky’s rejection scorched bitter through his heart and from on top of that mountain he then looked down below at the Earth and he said:
“Earth! Earth! Beg mercy for me. I beg you, I beseech you. I have been cursed and will never be able to return to God. Please pray for me so that one day my soul might find redemption.” And the Earth retorted back in an outrage. “Pray for you? Why would I pray for you, mere mortal? I have my own problems. For it is written: At the End of Days the Earth will be dry and lifeless, and trees will wither and the a****ls will die. I don’t have time to pray for you. I am praying for myself.“
Crushed by his rejection from the Earth he slowly wandered down off that mountain in a bewildered daze, until he reached the ocean and he turned to the Ocean and he said:
“Ocean! Ocean! Beg mercy for me” And once again the familiar response. “Pray for you? I have my own problems. For in the End of days the oceans will boil and the seas will burn and the fish will die and the waters will be turned to blood. I don’t have time to pray for you. I am praying for myself.”
Elazar Ben Durdaya turned to the Sun and the Moon, to the Rivers and the Lakes and the Forests and the Trees, to the Birds and the Bees and everywhere he went, no matter who he asked, the answer was always the same.
“Pray for you? I have my own problems. I am praying for myself.”
Finally, exhausted, at his absolute wits end, full of self-pity and self-entitlement, realising that truly, nobody in the Universe cared about him at all, , he cried out to the heavens in a primal scream of self-realisation:
“It’s all up to me.”
And then he lay down and curled himself into foetal position and he began to cry. He cried and cried and as he cried, in his tear-soaked imagination came the faces of all the women he had ever slept with. He saw all the missed opportunities for intimacy, all the missed opportunities to know another person, to know himself.
The ice-cold voice of the high priestess rang through every corridor of his consciousness and in those moments he experienced an entire lifetime of the deepest most painful longing for intimacy, and he cried and cried and cried. In fact, he cried so much, that he cried himself to death. And as his soul escaped from his body a voice boomed out from the heavens and said:
“The repentance of Master Elazar ben Durdaya has been accepted.” And his soul, shining and pure, ascended high up into the heavens and found a place nestled at the very side of God.
Soon this story began to spread. How? Since no one was there to witness the strange death of Elazar ben Durdaya — no one knows. Nevertheless. The story spread, far and wide, told in taverns and brothels, and city squares and market places all across the two Empires, until eventually the story was told to the Great Master, Leader of all the Sages, the Prince of Israel himself.
The Great Master heard the story and when it was finished, he began to weep.
His disciples, who were gathered around him said:
“Great Master, Great Master — Why do you weep? Is this not a good story? Does it not demonstrate the power of true and honest soul searching and repentance? Does it not show God’s infinite power to forgive?”
And the Master looked at them through his tear soaked eyes and said:
“Some of us struggle our entire lives to earn our place in the World to Come. We introspect, we worry about others, we constantly wonder if we have done the right thing. We live in constant self-doubt and strive every day to become a better person. While others live their entire lives totally selfish and self-centred, seeing the world only from their own narrow and vain point of view, and only when faced with death itself do they roll into a ball and cry like a baby and all is forgiven. And to add insult to injury, God himself calls them Master!!!”
The disciples sat stunned in front of the Great Master, speechless, and then he leaned towards them, as if to tell them some great secret, and the disciples leaned in towards him and he said in barely a whisper.
“My dear disciples. You must understand. Most of the times God makes no goddamned sense.”
2 years ago