I was the coward. It was my fault. Sobs were rocking my body. I could have stopped all this, but I was still scared of my dad. I was still that little boy, deep inside. I looked at 09 through blurry eyes, her face purple as she struggled to breath. My hands were at her throat, squeezing her. When did that happen?
I let go and stumbled back. 09 fell to her knees, coughing, struggling to breathe. Guilt and shame burned inside me. What was happening? I could of killed her. I cried into my hands. My dad was dead. My dad was dead and I would never get to see him again. I don’t even remember the last time I saw him, or what he said to me. My emotions were all mixed up, anger, hatred, love, grief.
A woman hugged me, her red hair silk against my face. “Shh, it’s okay,” 09 cooed, her voice raspy. Even after I strangled her, she still loved me. What choice did she have, I made her love me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to her. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“It’s okay, sir,” she whispered. “It was so exciting. I came so hard when you were choking me. You could do it again, if you want.” I had heard being strangled makes sex more intense. I guess it was true. “I’m yours to do with as you please, sir.”
“No, forget that it happened,” I told her. “We just had regular sex.”
“Thank you for fucking me, sir,” she said, wiping at my tears. “I’m glad my slutty cunt satisfied you, sir.”
“Yeah, it did,” I said, standing up. I breathed in deeply, regaining control of my emotions. Dad was dead. I had arrangements to make.
The ringing phone woke me up.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. It was two in the morning. After last night I needed to get some sleep. Antsy and I had taken this guy back to our motel room from some bar to fuck. I figured, let a guy get Antsy all hot and bothered and then I could have an easy time fucking her so I could perform the Prayer of Avvah on her.
It worked.
And while Travis and Antsy both passed out after they came, they eventually woke up, horny, finding me masturbating away. I fucked Travis and then I went down on Antsy, licking up the sloppy mess Travis left in her cunt. I was looking forward to her going down on me. She had a tongue piercing and I always heard that it made cunnilingus feel so much better. But Antsy had sobered up to much and would just finger me.
So when Antsy wanted to go out, I pleaded exhaustion. I may look eighteen, but I was feeling all of my forty-four years. So I crawled into bed and fell asleep. And I was enjoying that sleep before the phone rang.
“Sorry,” Antsy said. She was walking across the room. The bathroom light was on and I could see that her clothes were mused. She’s just been fucked, I realized. Antsy came to Miami to party and she had been thoroughly enjoying herself. “It’s my stupid brother. Ugg, I don’t want to talk to him.”
Her finger was moving to hang up. “Wait!” I shouted. I needed her to get together with her brother. This seemed so wrong, I was supposed to stop Warlocks, not serve people up to them. But, Ramiel said this was the only way. I just needed to have faith in God’s plan.
“What?” Antsy asked, her finger stopped above the phone.
“It’s late,” I said, trying to think of a reason to get her to answer the phone. “It…it…must be important.”
“I guess,” Antsy said, rolling her eyes. “Hey bro.” A look of stunned disbelief crossed Antsy’s face. And then, in the quavering voice of a little girl, she whispered, “He’s dead?”
Her legs seemed to give out underneath her and she stumbled, sitting heavily on the bed. Her eyes were wide with pain, a tear started trickling down her cheek. She saw me looking at her and she turned away, trying to hide as her brother talked to her. I watched her aura go from silver to black. Her brother gave her a command, exerting control over her. It wasn’t much control, his hold wouldn’t last long. Odds are, she’d have done it without him controlling her. Her aura would be silver by tomorrow afternoon, I judge.
“I’ll be on the plane,” Antsy said. “Tomorrow morning at 7:55 AM, American Airlines,” Antsy was repeating into the phone. “Mark, how’s mom.” She paused, listening. “Okay, okay, we’ll talk when I get in.” Another pause. “I love you, too Mark.” And then she hung up.
“My daddy’s dead,” Antsy said in her quivering, little girl’s voice. Her face contorted in pain and then the sobs overtook her. I held the girl to my chest and rocked her gently as she sobbed her heart out.
“Shit,” Mark said, and I jumped.
I was so enchanted by my son’s fiancee, I forgot Mark was sitting next to me. What was wrong with me. Ever since Betty, I was starting to wonder if I was a lesbian. And here I was panting after my future daughter-in-law. The fact I just killed my abusive husband barely register in my mind. All that seemed to matter was Mary and her beautiful, wicked smile. “There’s an emergency at my rental property,” Mark said.
“You have a rental property,” I asked, confused. He was a vacuum-cleaner salesman. Since when did he own a rental property.
“I invested in real estate with some of my poker winnings,” Mark answered. He did mention that in the phone call. Those darn FBI agents almost had me believing my good boy was a bank robber and a rapist. My eyes were drawn back Mary. She had the deepest, green eyes that twinkled naughtily. Get a hold of yourself, Sandy. But she’s just so desirable. I wanted to kiss her lips so badly. “There’s a burst pipe. I got to take care of this. I’m really sorry,” Mark finished.
“Oh, okay,” I absently said, staring into Mary’s eyes. I felt something warm on my hand and realized I was rubbing Mary’s beautiful thigh. Her jean skirt was so short, so inviting. This was just like when I talked to Mary on the phone. I couldn’t believe that I started masturbating. “I’m sure Mary and I will find something pleasant to do.” Why did I say that. I needed to take a cold shower. I needed to get out of this itchy housecoat and show Mary my body.
“I’m sure we will, Sandy,” Mary said with a throaty laugh. Was she flirting back.
How did this happen to me. I must be a lesbian. When I started the affair with Betty a few year ago, I thought it was just a fluke. David may have always been an abusive prick, but he was a passionate lover. And I enjoyed our lovemaking. But his drinking had grown so much, he had trouble getting erect anymore. I had gotten so horny and then Betty showed back up.
She was so beautiful, with that mocha-cream skin and her enchanting, blue eyes. It was so exotic. Her father was half-black himself, and her mom was a Norwegian beauty, and the combination produced a stunningly beautiful girl. And that day that I realized Betty was flirting with me, it had been months since I had been with David. I was so lustful, masturbation wasn’t cutting it anymore. I had even considered taking a lover, but I just couldn’t bring myself to break my marriage vows. But she was a woman. It wasn’t really cheating. I didn’t even think I was a lesbian, afterwards. It was pleasant, not as good as a man, but fun. And I felt I had kept my vows.
It’s only sex if a man’s penis goes up your vagina. President Clinton had said. So, you couldn’t really have sex with a woman. Therefore it was just fun, not adultery. Maybe homosexuality is a sin, but I wasn’t an adulteress. That’s how what I told myself. Mark and Samantha always wanted me to leave David, but I swore a vow before god. Until death I swore, and that’s how it ended. I could still feel the shotgun in my hands, how hard I had to squeeze the trigger, the roar it made and how much it hurt when the stock bucked into my shoulder.
Mary’s enchanting presence was drowning out the guilt over killing David. When I shot him, I was sure he was going to go kill Betty. The sweet girl had fled when David caught us in bed and this mad thought entered my mind that he was going to hurt her. I couldn’t let him do that. And…and it was easy. He had treated me so badly, I didn’t even hesitate.
“What should we do?” Mary asked, scooting a little closer. Her flowery perfume was filling my nose, an intoxicating fragrance.
I found myself sliding my hand higher up her thigh, nearing that short, enticing skirt and what was hiding underneath. I was such a horrible mother, thinking about seducing my son’s fiancee. But that didn’t stop me from sliding my hand higher and higher. Her thigh was silky smooth and warm.
“I would like to get to know my future daughter-in-law better,” I husked, like wanton trollop. You are a good, god-fearing woman so why are you doing this. Betty was bad enough, but she’s almost your daughter.
Is that why I’m so wet? I wondered. She’s the same age as Samantha. No, that couldn’t be it. Mary and Samantha were so different. Samantha had raven black hair, not the enticing auburn of Mary, nor did she have Mary’s enchanting green eyes. Our her delicious lips.
It took me a moment to realize that I had leaned over and captured those red lips with my own, hungrily nibbling at her lower lip. Oh no, I thought with dismay, she’s going to think her future mother-in-law some sort of lesbian hussy. But she’s kissing me back, I realized with delight. My son’s fiancee was kissing me, her tongue lightly pressing against my lips and I let her in.
Her hands unknotted my housecoat and the scratchy fabric was off my hard nipples. This was so wrong. How could I do this to Mark. He was my good boy. How could I betray him like this. How could Mary betray him. For a moment anger surged in me. How could this hussy allow her fiancee’s mother seduce her. She’s not even putting up a fight. She’s into it.
And then her hand was touching my hard nipple, her fingers deft and gentle as they rolled the hard nub and all resistance fled me. I was a lesbian. I was a slave to my desires. And I desired Mary so much. Eternity seemed to pass as we kissed on the couch, her hands exploring my body. She touched me everywhere, my face, my throat, my stomach, my thighs. My wet vagina. My achingly wet and naughty vagina.
No, I realized. It was a hungry, lesbian pussy and I shuddered on Mary’s finger when she slipped inside my hungry hole. Mary’s thumb rubbed my clit in small circles, coaxing an orgasm out of me. I gasped into her mouth, wrestling with her tongue, as she fingered me slowly and gently, until I could take the pleasure no more.
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