The Fantastic Wally Wanka
=========================
	
There was probably nobody in the world who'd be at all surprised to 
discover that Wally Wanka wasn't Chester's real name. Chester 
Herbert wasn't the sort of name you'd choose to use on the sort of 
internet site he frequented. But Wally Wanka was the online name 
he'd used for so long and so often that he almost considered it as much 
his real name as the one he'd been christened with.
      And Wally Wanka was the kind of jokey irreverent name that 
helped give Chester something of a presence on PornBB, xHamster 
and PornHub where he'd upload movies that he'd earlier downloaded 
from Bit Torrent; raise a laugh on sex story sites like Literotica and 
T.S.S.A. where he often lurked; was required on cam sites like Jasmin 
and Streamate; and was all he was ever known as to other members of 
paysites like VideoBox, RealityKings and Digital Playground.
      Chester's online name was, of course, a very poor pun on a 
fictional character from Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate 
Factory, but it appealed to his quirky off-centre sense of humour. And 
this also made him famous on the many forums he contributed to, 
whose members were generally rather affectionate to Wally Wanka 
and his witty references to Oompa Loompas and the Golden Ticket he 
promised to reveal in a very special chocolate bar. 
      Although almost all his waking hours when not at work or 
asleep was spent surfing porn on the internet, Chester had a hidden 
talent he'd never revealed to anyone apart from the millions who might 
stumble across his Facebook page, his Tumblr site and the many 
forums he contributed to. And that was to come up with new ideas for 
porn movies, sex stories and comic books. And these he freely (and 
sometimes privately for no charge) made available to those who might 
be interested. 
      One such idea, for instance, was to take the scripts for 
television series from the 50s and 60s which he was sure were no 
longer bound by copyright and use them as the scripts of online sitcom 
streams. These would only differ from the original in that they could 
now be filmed in colour (and on equally unconvincing film sets) and in 
which all the actors and actresses were naked. This would resemble 
those Japanese zenra movies where ordinary activities such as going to 
school or working in the office were filmed in the nude and in which 
the genitals were covered by a mosaic gauze. But unlike these films, it 
would be a weekly serial and actually have a decent storyline. As a 
variation, the male roles could be played by naked women with dildos 
strapped to the crotch. Chester was sure this was a project that would 
be a hit if only someone could take him up on the idea.
      Another of his ideas was to make a spanking movie based on 
The Sound of Music. All those scenes where the von Trapp family 
children misbehaved would earn a spanking or caning where red skin 
and welts would be displayed on the buttocks of the naughty (certified 
18+) children. And the scene at the beginning where Maria sings the 
title song would feature a porn star playing the postulant entirely in the 
nude. Chester could imagine Nicole Aniston or Jessie Jane waltzing 
around those Austrian mountains with her boobs on full display. And 
just imagine the possibilities presented by the nuns and Mother 
Superior at the Nonnberg Abbey!
      Chester (or Wally Wanka) was full of such great projects 
which with a bit of financial backing, some great porn stars and a lot of 
masturbation could only be huge hits in the world of porn. What about 
a porn version of The Apprentice, but for real rather than as a parody 
spoof? What about a nude or BDSM Sports Channel with real leagues 
for competitive fucking? What about a version of The Truman Show 
that followed a porn star or prostitute wherever she went and with 
whoever she fucked all in real time? When Chester saw that someone 
had already taken up one of his ideas (such as a parody movie of The 
Wizard of Oz or the sexualised wrestling in Ultimate Surrender on 
Kink.com), he often wondered whether the producers had been 
originally inspired by a Wally Wanka post. And if they had, shouldn't 
he (or at least Wally Wanka) get some of the credit.
      The sleeping part of his life was generally easy, though he 
often found it difficult to get comfortable. And that was because 
Chester tipped the scales at somewhat over a hundred kilos. And the 
reason he was so much out of shape was entirely due to a lack of 
exercise and a surfeit of Domino's Pizzas. The waking part of his life 
was dominated by porn. This consumed almost every hour he was 
awake, even though there was only so much time in the office he could 
spend surreptitiously surfing on his iPhone. Frustratingly, there were 
also times when he had to do the work for which he was paid. And this 
was as a system tester in the Council Offices for the London Borough 
of Waltham Forest. He'd had the same position for over ten years and 
could see no scope or opportunity for promotion. Especially so as he 
generally did as little actual work as he could get away with.
      He also lived in the same one-bedroom flat on Forest Road, 
Walthamstow, he'd bought when his father died and left him with 
enough to put down a hefty deposit. He never contemplated moving 
anywhere else. It was within easy walking distance of the office. In 
fact, everywhere he could possibly want to go to, including the train to 
Central London (if he ever wanted to use it), could be reached on foot: 
even by someone as obese as him.
      Of course, nobody online knew that the witty and sparkling 
Wally Wanka was also the tall but also fat and flabby figure that could 
be seen walking along Forest Road with a fashionable beard (of an 
unfashionable scruffiness) and almost always munching on a sandwich 
or chocolate bar. 
      His secret was secure.
      Or so he thought until he came home from work one day and 
encountered the woman from the downstairs flat in the shared hallway 
of the block of flats where he lived.
      "Who's this Wally guy whose post arrives here?" he was 
challenged. 
      She was holding a brown parcel in her hand that probably 
contained promotional material from one of the porn paysites to which 
he belonged.
      "Wally?" said Chester caught totally unprepared. Just what was 
his cover story? "He's just a guy I know from work who hasn't got a 
permanent address. He gets his post sent here and I collect it for him."
      "Oh," she said handing it directly to him. "Weird name though 
isn't it? 'Wanka'. Is he Polish or something?"
      "Lithuanian, actually," said Chester.
      "And I've seen your name on some of the letters that arrive," 
the neighbour continued. "Are you Chester? Or is it Herbert?"
      "Chester."
      "And my name's Cheryl," said the woman stretching a hand 
out towards Chester. "Pleased to meet you."
      And then for the first time since he didn't know when 
(probably on the rather embarrassing and ultimately unsuccessful 
occasion when he ventured into a massage parlour on Hoe Street) 
Chester touched a woman. And in this case all he did was shake her 
hand.
      Chester had never really noticed his neighbour before. He 
didn't know whether she'd only just moved in or had lived there for 
years. He didn't know whether she had a husband or children or a pet 
or anything at all. And he certainly didn't know that her name was 
Cheryl. She was also in her late thirties. Age had crept up on her as it 
had on Chester. Her skin was less elastic, her hair was almost certainly 
dyed and she most definitely didn't have the figure of a teenager. In 
fact, she probably didn't have much of a figure even when she was a 
teenager.  It was difficult to know how to describe Cheryl's figure at 
all. The word 'shapeless' sprang to mind, but of course that ignored 
the fact that she did have a shape. It just didn't conform to the 
expectations made, for instance, of a porn model. Her breasts weren't 
large. Her waistline was best described as chunky, if not flabby. And 
her legs and ankles had a matronly aspect (although most porn matrons 
had rather more slender ankles).
      "Well, I must be going, Cheryl," said Chester with an awkward 
emphasis on her name as he turned around to thunder up the stairs.
      "If you ever need anything, Chester," she called up to him as 
he put his key into the lock of his door. "Just call. You know which 
one is my doorbell."
      "Of course," replied Chester as he pushed open the door of his 
flat to enter its slightly fetid warm air (he always set the central heating 
up to high). 
      Ahead of him was the welcoming sight of the expensive 30 
inch monitor he'd attached to his high-end games-spec desktop 
computer. He wanted to see his porn in the best possible conditions. 
He wondered what it was that had been sent in brown paper to him (or, 
nominally, Wally Wanka) all the way from Sacramento.
      Chester soon forgot his awkward encounter with Cheryl and 
immersed himself into his alternative life as Wally Wanka. He had 
movies to download from Empornium, others to upload to xHamster 
and YouJizz, an ongoing discussion on IntPorn and another quite 
different one on PeachyForum. It was a busy life being a presence in 
the world of online porn.
      It was a day or so later, a Sunday night in fact, that Chester was 
slouched in front of his high-spec monitor with his trousers down 
below the knees and the cock in his hand reluctant to stiffen. It was 
while watching Bonnie Rotten spasm noisily and repeatedly as three or 
four men competed for all her available orifices that he became aware 
that his doorbell was ringing. Shit! Who could it be? He hadn't ordered 
a pizza. He'd already gorged on an All-You-Can-Eat at the local curry 
house, so he wasn't yet hungry again. 
      Chester pressed the three keys necessary to lock his screen, 
pulled up his trousers and tossed away the tissues he'd spunked into 
earlier that day. He then walked to the intercom and pressed his face to 
it.
      "Who is it?" he called in the requisite sing-song voice.
      "It's me, Cheryl," said the voice on the other hand. "I've got a 
bottle of wine that needs drinking. Can I come up?"
      "Erm..." said Chester who was wondering how he could most 
politely turn her away. He was looking forward to seeing Bonnie 
Rotten come. And there was also that video he wanted to watch with 
Stoya and her partner, the ubiquitous James Deen, doing the honours. 
But he couldn't think of what to say. "Yeah. Come up. It's OK."
      He quickly cleared away the most obvious signs of a life spent 
immersed in porn, such as the butt plug he used as a paperweight and 
coffee-stained copies of Penthouse and Swank. And then after a quick 
glance around the room to check that the inflatable doll he'd once 
bought wasn't visible and that he didn't have a DVD cover open by his 
60 inch TV, he pulled open the door to his flat to see a grinning Cheryl 
holding a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew in her hands.
      "I hope you don't mind," she said. "But I was stood up last 
night. By a friend of mine not a boyfriend, you understand. And I'd 
got this bottle of Merlot and I don't want it to go to waste. And I knew 
you were in by yourself..."
      "No. No. That's fine," said Chester, wondering and indeed 
dreading whether this unexpected call was going to be a more regular 
event.
      In actual fact, this impromptu encounter didn't turn out to be 
bad at all, though Chester was self-consciously aware that he was 
nothing like as witty, insightful or self-confident as Wally Wanka 
might be. He either let Cheryl do all the speaking or went on rather 
longer than he'd intended on subjects that he knew might bore other 
people: such as the quality of Waltham Forest Council's new coffee 
machines, the poor service at Ahmed's Fish & Chips & Kebab shop, 
and the complications of travelling by bus to the adjacent London 
borough of Enfield. But in all this, and accompanied by glasses of 
Chablis so much more potent than the occasional can of Carling Black 
Label or Foster's that was his sporadic treat, he was sufficiently 
relaxed to listen to what Cheryl was saying without his mind 
wandering to subjects related to pornography or (worse still) to 
compare his neighbour with the porn stars he most fantasised about.
      Cheryl was employed as some kind of admin assistant for the 
Waltham Forest Housing Association. She'd once been married to a 
salesman at Comet where he used to sell washing machines and 
dishwashers. She originally came from Sutton in South London where 
her elderly parents still lived with their aging tabby cat. And the friend 
who hadn't turned up was one of those girls the like of whom she was 
sure Chester would know whose life forever lurched from one disaster 
to another.
      If Chester was to characterise Cheryl's life at all it would have 
been one of modest achievement and modest failure and whose modest 
ambitions were fast vanishing over an unattainable horizon. But he 
was unlikely to do so, because it would only make him wonder 
whether he could characterise his own life in a much better light.
      When Cheryl finally left, which wasn't especially late as she 
needed to be up early in the morning, it being a Monday and all, 
Chester returned to Bonnie Rotten and her freakish ability to squirt on 
tap. But his heart wasn't really in it now. Even a direct shot of female 
orgasm straight at the camera lens did nothing for him on this 
occasion. So, instead of furiously masturbating to his most recently 
downloaded porn, Chester logged on as Wally Wanka to Lush Stories 
(which he'd not visited for a very long time) and engaged in a rather 
long and pointless discussion about Australian and Canadian English 
and the difference between their spelling conventions.
      It was a slow and steady process by which Chester and Cheryl 
got to know one another better, but it very nearly plateaued at the level 
Chester all along expected it would (and in a sense, preferred it 
should). And that was where two neighbours who were occasional 
drinking companions would gripe together about the general 
unfairness of life and retire to their separate flats well before bedtime.
      But that was before Cheryl announced to Chester that she had a 
very good idea who Wally Wanka was and that what he wasn't was a 
Lithuanian of no fixed abode.
      On this occasion, Chester was in Cheryl's downstairs flat 
which was more comfortable for Chester even though the furniture had 
never been chosen for a man of his bulk. Cheryl was tidier than 
Chester-not a difficult achievement-but this was only a comparison. 
Her own flat might have been hovered and dusted, but just once a 
month rather than once in a blue moon. Her flat may not have had 
towering stacks of decades old magazines; DVDs spread randomly 
about the floor in front of the TV; or a discarded pizza box on the 
table, but she wasn't so well organised that the surface of her furniture 
was always clear of unwashed cups and plates. And there was a pile of 
CDs on the floor that never found its way back onto the shelves 
(featuring luminaries of earlier decades such as the Pet Shop Boys, 
Madonna and Dido). 
      "What do you mean?" gasped Chester whose generally pale but 
plump cheeks suddenly went a deep red.
      "I've got internet access too, you know," said Cheryl. "And I 
don't only know about Facebook, Twitter and Flickr. I know how to 
Google. And I also know how to enter the name 'Wally Wanka' into 
the browser and look through the results."
      This was totally unwelcome. That supposedly impenetrable 
divide between his real self and his online persona had just been 
breached and Chester felt as if he had just been violated in a very 
peculiar way. 
       "And what did you find out?" asked Chester breathlessly. 
      "I discovered that Wally Wanka is a very active person on the 
internet," said Cheryl. "He goes to many websites which do different 
things but are all related to porn. He's a member of all sorts of porn 
forums, webcam sites and downloading sites. And when he's not 
uploading movies about squirting, fisting or anal intercourse, he's 
making loads of suggestions to whoever wants to read it of the sort of 
porn he'd like to see."
      "What sort of stuff is that?" asked Chester in the hope that 
Cheryl might still think that he and Wally Wanka were different 
people.
      "Well," said Cheryl with a wicked gleam in her eye. "He 
suggested that they make a film of mediaeval sword-wielding amazon-
like woman who go on adventures just like Lara Croft only entirely in 
the nude. He suggested that there be an on-line competition where men 
would send in film of themselves masturbating and where the winner 
was the man who took the least amount of time to go from limp to 
ejaculating. He speculated that there should be a writing competition 
on one of the sex story sites concerned with the sex life of farmers' 
daughters, although I got the feeling that this was sex with farm 
animals rather than farm hands. He wrote a series of spoof articles in 
one web site where he pretended to advertise for women to audition 
for a job as a fluffer for all the Spartans in an upcoming epic remake of 
300. He wrote an article in another porn site where he argued why 
someone called Nina Hartley would be the ideal Governor for 
California."
      "And what do you think about Wally Wanka?" Chester asked 
nervously.
      "I think he's very funny and rather too much obsessed with 
porn."
      "Is that all?"
      "I also think that Wally Wanka might well be someone I 
know."
      "And who could that be?" asked Chester, who was not 
enjoying the direction this conversation was going at all.
      "Well, who do you think?"
      "I don't know."
      "Well, you, of course."
      "Erm..." said Chester, who was now genuinely at a loss of 
what to say. 
      Now this revelation was out in the open, what could he do? 
Well, after he'd managed to stumble out of her flat, he'd have to avoid 
Cheryl from now on at all costs. He'd always have to check whether 
she was waiting for him in the hallway. He'd have to avoid eye-contact 
when they passed in the street. And he also wondered whether there 
mightn't be something in his online trail that was actually illegal. And 
that was although he didn't visit child porn sites and never downloaded 
anything of such a nature to his hard drive. And anyway there was no 
law that he knew of that made surfing porn illegal.
      "But you know, Chester," continued Cheryl. "I don't mind 
about all that at all."
      "You don't?"
      "In fact, I actually like porn."
      "You do?" said Chester, genuinely bewildered. This wasn't 
something that he'd ever considered before. He knew that in the online 
world, whether they were classified as teen, MILF or plumper, the 
female webcam performers, the female porn stars and those who just 
claimed to be women all professed to watch and enjoy porn as much as 
any man, but Chester didn't really believe them. After all, most porn 
was designed for men, whether straight or gay. There wasn't much on 
the internet that was specifically for women (not that he'd even once 
ever searched for it).
      "And I think the stuff you put up there is pretty funny."
      "You do?"
      "Yes, Chester. Perhaps you don't believe me, but lots of 
women enjoy watching porn. Why do you think Fifty Shades of Grey's 
so popular?"
      "I don't know. Is it porn?"
      Cheryl laughed. "You know all about Ron Jeremy, Linda 
Lovelace and Seymore Butts, but you don't know about E. L. James."
      "I suppose I don't."
      "So, let's cut the crap," Cheryl said with some finality. "Do 
you want a blowjob?"
      "A blowjob?" said a truly startled Chester.
      "That's what it's called, isn't it? You take your penis out of 
your trousers, someone sucks it and you come..."
      "Well, yes."
      "So what about it?"
      "I don't really... I mean..."
      "There doesn't have to be any love or affection, Chester. You 
know that. And women have needs the same as men. I'll ask you 
again. Do you want a blowjob?"
      "I'm not exactly trim or fit..." Chester pleaded.
      "No," Cheryl admitted. "In fact, you must be clinically obese. 
But let's be frank. I'm not catwalk model material myself. So, we must 
be suited for each other. So, what about it, Chester. I can't wait 
forever."
      And so Cheryl took Chester's penis in her mouth and pumped 
it into life with nothing like the skill or expertise of a porn star. And 
inevitably, Chester revealed his true feelings for Cheryl in dramatically 
less time than would any male porn star in the same situation. And this 
was manifest not in beautiful arcs of semen over the face and bosom, 
but altogether more messily. 
      But this was the prelude for more intimacy between Chester 
and Cheryl. Much more. And not just in the form of the occasional 
blowjob.
      And also from this date on, as far as the denizens of countless 
porn websites were aware, Wally Wanka was nowhere near as active 
on the internet as he had been before.