 |
|||
|
|
Part 3
Another woman pushes her way into my company. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. It’s all I can do to remain and answer the bantering of these people.
“Aren’t you…yes, it is you! How are you?”
She is short and chubby. Her hair is damp and frizzy. I remember her from my homeroom. I never liked her but she always liked me. I smile, attempting to excuse myself but she will have none of it.
“You know, I had such a crush on you.” She tells me. “If it hadn’t been for Stephaney I would have made such a move on you!”
Hardly flattered, I again try to excuse myself. Still, she is relentlessly pouring words out of her mouth. You would remember her well. “Talky Tina” we used to call her. She was rude and obnoxious; always talking – some things never change.
I remember how you managed to find something to like about her, despite her obnoxious manner. You always found something to like in everyone, no matter how annoying they were. I always loved that about you.
“I am so glad to see you. Where’s Stephaney? Don’t tell me you guys broke up! You were the perfect couple. I so loved you guys. Oh, you’re still together? Great, is she here? I would so love to see her again! Oh, she’s not here? That’s too bad. Tell her that Tina says hi, okay?”
She rambles on and on, a juggernaut with her mouth. Finally, I escape her rapid-fire machine gun of a mouth and step outside. Fortunately, the rain keeps her from following me. I don’t want to be here. Still, I manage a bit of a grin as I hearken back to the day I told you I wanted to shove something in her mouth to shut her up.
We were in our apartment, a few weeks before we were to marry. Upon your mentioning of her name I began ranting about how annoying she was. Immediately, you grinned at me and began talking, a chatterbox mimicking her speech pattern and banal conversation. I warned you that if you continued I would certainly shut you up, as I wanted to do to her. Still you continued, grinning at me and daring me to “Shove something in my mouth, mister!”
Grinning back at you, I rushed to you, taking your head in my hands and pushing you down to your knees. Still, you rattled on, insipid commentary rushing from your mouth as you refused to quit the role.
I stole my cock from my trousers, already hard at the thought of what was to come, and pushed it at your face. Still rattling on, I found it difficult to find my mark. Finally, a break in your commentary came and I was able to push myself into your mouth.
I was in instant ecstasy. Obediently, you closed your mouth around my member, sucking me. Your tongue lashed at my shaft, curling and pressing up from under the swelling. After mere moments you began to slide your lips back and forth along my shaft, my hands guiding your movements.
As my motions became more hurried, you unsnapped my pants and pulled them down to my ankles. I felt the firm grasp of your hands on my ass as you began pulling me into your mouth. Then you released my cock and lay down on the floor, beckoning me to straddle your head.
My first motion was not what you wanted and you pushed me forward so that your face was between my legs.
“Stroke your cock,” you told me.
I began stroking and found that you were motioning me to settled further down. Obedient to the moment I settled, greeted by the feel of your darting tongue on my dangling sack. The sensation thrilled me, sending a thrilled shiver up my spine.
As I became used to the sensation I found myself being pushed forward, even as I was motioned further downward. Then I felt your tongue darting between my cheeks, probing at the hole between. I thought that I should have been put off by this action, but I was not.
A whisper from between my legs told me that you wanted to taste me when I climaxed. Then the tongue returned to work, probing between my cheeks. The probing flicks of tongue turned to licks, short and then long. Then you sucked at my sensitive hole, pushing your tongue into me. I was moaning, climbing the agonizing road to climax.
“Does it feel good, lover?” You asked, briefly pulling from my hole.
“Yes!” I growled, as you returned to licking, probing and sucking.
I cannot remember how it came to be that you ended up on your knees in front of me. I can only remember the intensity and the enthusiasm with which you sucked as I came, swallowing every drop of fluid that spewed forth.
I remember thinking, later that night, that I was a blessed man.
The sound of a horn rips me from my ruminations. I realize that I have wandered into the parking lot. In front of me looms a small car; it’s lights staring at me. Quickly, I move out of the way allowing the lights to progress.
It’s time for me to head home to you. I can take no more of this.
The ride home is without incident. Rain pelts the windshield as I drive. Lights in the distance blur with each drop of rain, only to be brought into focus by the redundant swish of the windshield wipers.
The ride is interminably long, and yet it seems to have only taken a few moments. It’s funny how that happens; arriving someplace and having little recollection of how you managed it.
For a long time I sit in my car, my energy nearly sapped. The reunion was difficult. There were so many different faces asking so many of the same questions. I would never have gone had you not wanted to go so badly. I only wish you could have gone too.
Finally, I work up the energy to exit the car and make my way into our home. Opening the door, I step inside expecting your greeting, knowing it is not to come.
The house is dark but for the light in our bedroom. Slowly, I make my way to our room, glancing over to your beautiful form as I enter. You look so peaceful and beautiful lying there. I wait for you to stir, feeling foolish at my hope.
My note is still on the dresser - poetic I hope. It's probably not, though.
I open the drawer to withdraw the object of necessity. It is necessary. I had hoped it wasn’t. But it is
It happened so fast. They said that it was too late when they caught it - gave you
6 months. They were wrong. Three weeks later I sit here on the bed, my note repeating
itself in my head. "In her love I had life. With her passing I have death. No, it’s probably not poetic: accurate but not poetic.
I lay down beside you: by your shell.
Putting the revolver to my head I can hear the sound of the cylinder rotating as it aligns the cartridge with the barrel. It's so loud - deafening, really.
It’s funny how one can fear what one must have. I only wonder if I have the courage to do what I must.
I do
End
|
|
|