The Older Woman

There she lay, glistening in a sensual sizzle. The straps of her bikini undone, dangling from the sides of her folding chair tempting him in a way that brought physical pain to his loins.

He watched her from the kitchen window. She was getting her afternoon sun on her well worked body. His teenage erection was completely unhidden in his knee length basketball shorts, sans underwear. The feeling of the silky fabric rubbing on him every time he moved his hips made it difficult for him to stand still. He looked like a novice hula dancer swaying his hips so erratically.

Her body was perfect and not just for a woman of her age, though she wore her 50 years fabulously, but for a woman of any age. A rare mix of great genetics and vanity, she took very good care of herself. She had no idea that she had an audience at the moment.

His vision was going in and out of blurry spells, the fire so stoked in his loins. He couldn´t take it. He needed release. He promised himself he wouldn´t do this anymore. He had asked his pastor if this behavior was all right and as he expected, was told no. He prayed to make these feelings go away. But they didn´t. It did not help that prayer time was so close to same time where he was left alone with his thoughts in the dark. With no one around. No one watching.

He asked God to forgive him one more time as he reached for the cooking oil. He splashed a little in his palm. It was enough. In fact, it was unnecessary as there was enough Cowper’s fluid accumulated that it looked as though he had wet himself a little.

He reached into his shorts and almost instantly a wave of delicious shame pulsated through his body. He felt amazing and awful as his eyes fluttered and became difficult to keep open. He even uttered an audible ‘uh’. His knees went weak and then he felt panic. She was tying her bikini up. She was coming inside.

The orgasm hadn´t even fully finished and she was steps away from the back door. He didn´t know what to do so he and his handful of shame opened the door to the basement. He didn´t even think about turning on the light. He just stumbled down the stairs into the musty darkness.

“What do you want for lunch” called the voice of the once object of his deepest desire.

A shaky voice came from the darkness of the basement. “Nothing, Mom.”

If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough

 

Alan´s grandfather was his hero. As he laid dying he gently pulled Alan toward him by his thin seven year old arm and whispered “Son, if you´re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough”

Alan didn´t really understand what his grandfather meant by these words for some years. When he did discover what he meant he thought his grandfather was a genius. Then after a quick Google search, he realized he was really a plagiarizer on his deathbed, but nonetheless, the words packed wisdom.

Alan was a terrible student. He got low grades in all subjects except physical education.  He could barely read well into his Junior High years. Alan was like a powerful Massarati sports car being driven by learning disabled child. The good thing for Alan was that he recognized this early. He made up his mind. He was going to be tough.

By fifteen years of age, Alan was already the equivalent of a Jiu Jitsu purple belt and was deadly proficient in Muay Thai. His coach was trying to get him to sign up for a local MMA tournament. The problem for Alan was, inscriptions were only for adults above the age of twenty one. If Alan kept his mouth shut, he could pass for man of twenty five. He weighed 200 pounds with next to no body fat and stood at 6 feet one inch. When his coach suggested he get a fake ID to enter Alan heard his grandfather whisper “…..you gotta be tough…” and agreed.

Alan had to make a drastic weight cut. His coach wanted him to fight at 180 pounds. He would have to lose 20 pounds in a week. “….you gotta be tough….” echoed through his head as he starved himself and went on three mile runs wearing makeshift sweat suits made of trash bags.

On the day of weigh-ins, Alan´s breath reeked of death. That´s because his body was on the brink of crossing over.  He was extremely dehydrated and malnourished. He made weight, drank water and immediately threw it up. His scheduled opponent weighed in 5 pounds overweight. There were no other fighters in the 180 pound class so he was asked if he would still accept the fight. The whisper of “…you gotta be tough…” once again propelled him to agree. His opponent did not have a dead look in his eyes like Alan. Unlike Alan, he did a scientific weight cut under the watchful eye of hired professionals.

On fight day, Alan was only able to put 7 pounds back on, weighing in at 187 sickly looking pounds. His opponent on the other hand hydrated correctly and weighed in at 205 pounds and looked like a muscular Greek statue. Alan still did not feel well. His opponent, on the other hand, felt the universe pulsing through his finely tuned body. He was ready to go, Alan was not. “….you gotta be tough….” Alan lipped these words as he entered the cage.

The first round started with a hard shin right on Alan´s temple. He passed out immediately. The judge did not notice that he passed out and did not stop the fight. His opponent dove on him punching him in the face three times. Instead of finishing the fight as intended, these punches only served to wake Alan up. He went into auto pilot as his training kicked in. He was extremely hurt as he closed his guard around the waist of his opponent. His opponent was shocked that Alan survived this initial attack. Any mere mortal would have only woken up in the locker room. Little did he, or anybody know, Alan wasn´t really awake. He was extremely concussed. Though his eyes were open, his cpu was not really on.

His opponent found a hole between Alan´s guard and rained elbows so hard that Alan´s head bounced off the canvas. After about five of these the referee had enough.  He stopped the fight. As his opponent celebrated his brutal victory, nobody noticed the foam forming around Alan´s mouth or that his eyes were rolled into the back of his head. As his body convulsed, his mind started to float toward the halogen lights in the rafters. The rafters disappeared but the light remained constant if not brighter.

As is over being announced over the P.A. system Alan heard a familiar voice say “You sure were tough, son. But I am afraid I steered you wrong.”

“No pop-pop” Alan answered “I was tough, the way I was supposed to be”

Happy Birthday!

 

“Did you ever imagine what triggers an orgasm?” Jake asked as he took pulled his face inches away from Ashley`s between kisses.

“I like to believe that they are little explosions ignited by angels” Ashley answered.

“Good answer” he whispered as his mouth went back to hers.

All of a sudden there was a loud “What the fuck” heard in the background and the door flew open with a crash.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” Ashley asked.

“What the fuck are you doing there?” Bill asked right back.

Jake saw that he was giving up at least fifty pounds to Bill, mostly in the form of muscle, panicked and went for the window.

“Oh no you don’t you little shit!” Bill said. He crossed the room with surprising speed and agility for a man of his size. His large, strong hand crashed down on Jake’s bare shoulder pulling him back into the room. “You ain’t going nowhere” he said. With a twist of pleasure in his voice he said  “Your mine”

Jake was trembling. His knees felt weak. He could barely stand on his own. He collapsed into a ball of naked, bony flesh and meticulously messy hair.

Bill stood over him and started undoing his pants. Ashley screamed very unconvincingly “No, don’t do it Bill”

“This here little feller likes to fuck married people, then he’s gonna fuck married people”

Bill took out his lustful rage on Jake for three full minutes until angels detonated his orgasm.

Bill then went rooting through his pants looking for his cigarettes.  When he found them he offered one to Jake and said “No hard feelings there, little feller?” Jake just stared into nothingness. He looked catatonic.

Ashley then said to Bill “Happy Birthday honey! I knew you’d like him. He’s got that spikey hair you like so much”

“Ah, love, you sure do know me” he said as he took a long pull on his cigarette.

Christian Chicks

 

“Why are you always going after Christian girls, Tony?” Nick asked.

“Well, I figure, they already beleive in stupid shit, so it is easy to convince them to come to bed with me” Tony replied matter of factly, as if he has been rehearsing this answer for some time.

“I never thought of it that way. But don’t they get all moral on you when things start to get hot and heavy?” Nick asked.

“Not really. You see, most of these Christian chicks are pretty messed up. If they didn’t have Jesus in thier life, they’d probably be drunks or drug users. So in that way, they have that thrill seeking gene. They get all Jesus upped at church on the weekend the same way some chicks get all decked out and sloppy at a club. During the week, the club chick don’t think about the club and the Christian girl don’t think about Jesus until Sunday. They are pretty similar in that way. But the Christians chicks are clean.”

“Wow, you got it all figured out, don’t you Tony” Nick said with admiration in his voice.

“Of course not. But it works for me” Tony said.

“I just have one more question. Don’t you feel bad that you are condemning them to a future of eternity in hell?” Nick asked.

With that question, Tony let out a roaring laugh that was so contagious that Nick couldn’t help but join him.

 

What’s in the Egg?

 

It was a normal school day and Brian and Chris were in the kitchen having breakfast as their mother was getting ready for work upstairs. They each had a bowl of cereal, a glass of juice and a hardboiled egg. This was normal school day morning fare.

Brian was his usually quiet self. He was taking their parents separation much harder. It was him, after all, who caught his mother felating his father’s best friend in a parked car at the supermarket and told anybody who would listen. He still felt guilty for breaking them up. Chris, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. If ignorance is bliss, Chris passed through life in ecstasy. He was a probably just an I.Q. point or two higher from being deemed a clinical moron.

Chris might not be that bright, but he was warm and lived off of human contact. He was always trying to engage his brother Brian. He would ask nonstop mundane questions just to feel a connection. He looked over at Brian and noticed a peculiar look on his face. Brian had somehow managed to break a perfectly circular opening in his hardboiled egg and was intensely staring into it. His face looked almost as if it were in a trance.

“What’s in the egg” Chris asked. There was no answer. Chris didn’t think much of it as Brian usually is stingy with answers. He went back to crunching away his cereal. A few moments past and he noticed that Brian had not moved and was with the same exact expression, staring into the egg.

“Hey man, what’s so interesting about that egg?” Chris asked again. Brian didn’t even sway. His muscles were locked into place as his stare was pulled into the small circle on the top of the egg. Chris’s tone changed a little. There was a little worry in it this time. “Brian. What’s going on? What’s in the egg?” No response. Chris started to get a weird feeling and goose bumps chased each other up and down his legs and arms as he looked at the face of his brother.

“Let me see” Chris said as he started to lean over Brian’s egg. Whack. The bottom of Brian’s palm struck his forehead before he got even close enough to get a peak. Brian did not take his stare away from the head the whole time. His eyes remained fixed on the contents of the egg.

“You’re freaking me out” Chris said. “I am going to tell mom”

Chris was confused as he walked up the steps. He heard the blow dryer going in the bathroom. He banged on the door. “Mom” he said. No answer. He banged again. “Mom” he repeated. Just more blow drying, but no answer. There was something odd about the sound of the blow dryer. It was steady. As if it was on but not moving around. Chris was getting really freaked out. He opened the door.

He could have never been prepared for what he saw. Not in a million years. His mother was lying naked on the floor with the cord of the hair dryer around her neck. Her face was blue. Chris did not need to check to know that she was dead. He ran back down to the kitchen screaming for Brian.

When he got to the kitchen, Brian was gone. But the egg remained on the table. Chris had the wherewithal to take a look inside. He slowly walked over to the table. Each step was laborious; his feet seemed to weigh a ton. As he leaned over the table and his eye sight was fixed into the perfect circle of the egg, his world went black.

 

An Unfortunate Chain of Events Pt. IV

Francine could not believe what she was hearing. With that question, her world collapsed in on itself. Jim was staring at her with a glazed icy stare. This was not the man she fell in love with in high school behind those eyes. Finally she mustered the energy to ask the question, “Jim, who are you?”

This sent Jim into a rage. “Who am I? Who am I, you ask? I’m the guy who gave up his life to come back to the shit hole because you wanted to! I am the guy who has no friends, no career and no future, because of you! Who am I?…”

“Jim”, she said, “We made the decision together to come back here! You wanted this just as much as me. You told me you wanted kids. We agreed that it would be better to be near family.”

“You made the decision!” Jim was now on his feet, somewhat swaying rhythmically as if small breezes were holding him up from all angles. “I had nothing to do with that decision”. Jim was speaking on mental autopilot because all he could think about was the fact that his child support payments would be based on his new salary and that this would lead to a fairly miserly existent in a city as expensive as New York. He had to make this problem go away.

“Don’t think for a second that I would do anything to harm our baby! There is a life growing inside of me now. You have to decide what you are going to do with your life. But I am going to stay here and raise our baby!” she put a lot of emphasis on the word our.

Jim started for the door and Francine let out a shriek, “Where are you going?”

“Out. I need to think” was all he said. He fumbled with his keys in the driveway and opened the door to the car. Francine followed him.

“Get out of the car and talk to me! Besides, I can smell alcohol on you, you’ll get  arrested for sure!” her hand was in the frame of the door when Jim slammed it shut. Francine screamed, “Open the door! My hand is stuck” Jim did even notice. He put the car in neutral and slowly started coasting down the driveway, unbeknownst to him that Francine was being dragged. She was screaming frantically.

Finally he noticed and jerked the emergency brake and opened the door. Three of Francine’s fingers were bleeding. “Look what you did, you dumb bitch!” Jim said.

Francine was screaming in pain and crying hysterically. A few neighbors had poked their heads out to see what the commotion was.

Jim, with his head on a swivel surveyed them and yelled “Fuck you all. Go back to your stupid lives you assholes. There is nothing to see here.”

Francine started to feel feint from all of the pain and slowly sat down on the grass. At that moment, Jim slammed the door and was off.

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An Unfortunate Chain of Events Pt. III

Francine raced home to tell Jim the good news. Jim was already celebrating his good news by opening an expensive bottle that was given to him as a going away present when he left the firm in New York. His usual afternoon buzz was about to be taken up a notch.

Jim kept going over in his head the details of his new life in New York and how great it was going to be again. The Thursday nights going out to the clubs and hitting on NYU students much younger than himself were racing through his head. And this time he would be single. No one to check in to and make up stories to about his whereabouts. He was already convinced that he was going without Francine.

Francine was thinking of baby names if it were a girl because if it were a boy, she´ll let Jim name him. That´s how her family has named babies for two generations. She was already imaging how the baby’s room would look. Of course, they would have to remodel the room that Jim calls an office but uses as his internet porn viewing room.

Francine pulled into the driveway and Jim started to prepare himself about what he was going to say. How would he break this to her? Francine opened the door and with a huge smile threw her arms around Jim. “Honey, I have great news,” she said.

“I have news, too,” he said.

“Of course you can go first honey, but I am sure mine is bigger!” she said with such a smile that Jim was now very curious as to learn what she had to say.

“Go ahead, Fran, you go first” he said.

“We’re pregnant, love!” tears rolled down her face as these words came from her mouth.

“What do you mean WE?!” he said with a twisted look on his face.

A puzzled look came upon Francine’s face. Jim took notice and realized how awful he just sounded but his thoughts were spinning so far out of control he could not rectify the situation.

Francine stammered a little, “I am pregnant. Dr. Spengler just told me over the phone”.

Jim couldn´t help himself. The booze had lubed his tongue and the words just slipped out “Weren´t you taking the pill for Christ sake? And, hell, are you sure it´s even mine?” he was getting louder “It´s been months since we last fucked.”

Francine was shocked. She didn´t know what to say or think. She was certain he would be just as happy as she would. Her tears of joy turned to tears of sadness. Now it was her thoughts that were spinning.

Jim realized how harsh he had been and apologized. He told her that he had been stressed out about a few things. Then Francine asked, “What about your news? Didn´t you have something to tell me?”

Jim wasn’t even listening. All he was doing was calculating child support payments based on his new salary and if he would have enough at the end of the week to go out.

With almost no life in his eyes, he looked at Francine and asked, “Have you thought about an abortion?”

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An Unfortunate Chain of Events Pt. II

Jim answered the phone with his usual afternoon buzz making his thoughts a little fuzzy.

“Hello”, Jim said.

“Jim, you son of a bitch!” said the voice.

“Who is this?” Jim asked, a little annoyed.

“It´s Frank. From the firm. Don’t tell me you forgot about us already! It´s only been a few months.”

“Hell no Frank! I just wasn´t expecting you. I thought it was my damn in-laws. They call all day long”, Jim said with half a smirk. It was all he could muster because his mouth muscles atrophied from months of a lack of smiling.

“Sounds like you are loving domesticated small town life”, Frank said.

“You fucking kidding me? I hate this shit”, Jim always swore more when he was drinking. He swore a lot.

“Then I have great news for you. Stan wants you back. He didn´t really specify why he wants you so bad but he does. I think it´s because it has been so hard to find decent consistent people with half a brain. Plus, Stan always liked you.” Frank said.

“That sounds great,” Jim said, with a million things flashing through his head. “What´s the offer?”, he asked.

“What you were earning plus twenty percent, some more benefits and a larger profit share”, Frank said. “Plus, all of your moving expenses paid to come back and a company rent controlled apartment with a lease for three years”.

“Oh my god! I´m in!” Jim said with wide eyes.

“You think you can convince Francine?” Frank asked.

“I don´t care if can or not. I´m going with or without her”, Jim said.

“Looks like little Jimmy has finally grown a pair! Good to hear. Look, my secretary will call you to make flight arrangements. You´ll need to come to New York ASAP to sign a few things before we get the ball rolling”, Frank said, then he added, “Hey, take it easy on Francine, will ya? She´s a good girl. Let her down easy. If you can´t convince her to go, I mean. You know, she was close to my wife and she´s convinced Francine won´t go for it. Her dream is the picket fence in small town USA with the kids and all. She hated NY.”

“Don´t worry about that. We´ve been growing apart since coming here anyway. Might even be a relief for her”, Jim said.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Francine was driving home from the supermarket when her cell phone rang. “Hello”, she said.

“Francine?” the voice asked.

“Yes, this is she”, she said.

“Francine, this is Charlotte from Dr. Spengle’s office. The results of your blood work are in. He would like you to come in to discuss a few things”, the secretary said.

“Is everything ok?” Francine asked with worry in her voice.

“Yes, but I am not at liberty to divulge information over the phone but the doctor does need to speak to you in person” the secretary said.

“If you can´t tell me, can Dr. Spengle?” Francine asked.

“Actually, he is free. I´ll transfer you over”, the secretary said.

“Thanks”, Francine said.

“Francine?”, Dr. Spengle said.

“Yes?” Francine said with her heart racing.

“Francine, you’re pregnant”, the doctor said.

After a long pause Dr. Spengle heard from a distance as if the telephone had fallen to the floor “Oh my God! Thank you lord! I am so happy!”

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An Unfortunate Chain of Events Pt. I

(note from the author: This will be a multiple part story written in 500 word sessions. Please enjoy and stay tuned.)

Francine was the motor behind her beloved husband’s success. Jim was the type of person that was very intelligent and full of potential, but left to his own devices would never see that potential realized. Until his senior year of high school he was a C+ student but without even opening a book. When Francine entered his life he almost instantly became an A Student and continued to be one through college. She never told him to do better. She made him want to do better. And it wasn´t even to impress her. It was to make him feel like he deserved her. People always wanted to be their best when they were around Francine.

Jim’s intelligence and tendency to buck the system are what attracted Francine. He never accepted the status quo. He questioned everything. The fact that he was extremely handsome did not wane Francine’s desire either. They met at a protest against the drilling of oil on a Native American reserve. Although Francine self-identified herself as African American, she still reveled in the fact that she was of Comanche ancestry. Jim was there because he could not give up an opportunity to poke the eye of the man. The fact that Jim was white brought a lot of attention. The majority of the protesters were either Comanche people or ancestors so Jim stuck out with his polo shirt clad six foot four frame.

That protest was almost 6 years, a few degrees between them and many moves around the United States ago. They decided to settle down and get married in the small Texas town where they started their relationship. Francine wanted to start making a family of their own and wanted to be closer to her parents. Jim was reluctant because this meant giving up a fledgling, yet promising, career in finance that he had started in New York. After many nights arguing, sometimes arriving on the verge of violence, Jim acquiesced. But knowledge in finance was not the only thing Jim brought to Texas from New York. His Wall Street colleges introduced him to some new vices. Some were mild, like single malt scotch and cigars and some were not so mild like cocaine and high end escorts. Of course, Francine knew nothing of this. He always showed his best face to Francine. Francine was so focused on the prospect of her new family that she didn´t notice slight changes in Jim.

In Texas, far removed from the hustle and bustle of New York Jim actually forgot about his new found fondness for cocaine but not for drink. Again, Francine unconsciously turned a blind eye with her future family the star of her thoughts. Jim started drinking more and more as Francine nested. He drowned himself in whiskey as Francine drowned herself in bags from Ikea and Tok and Stok. Jim started to resent Francine´s happiness. He started to regret coming back to Texas. One sunny afternoon, with half a buzz on, Jim answered a call that would change both of their lives forever and so did Francine.

 

The Number

As they lay in their post coitus embrace, Bruno sensed that something was awry with Alexandra.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yeah” she said without conviction.

“No, really, tell me. What´s wrong?” he insisted.

“You really wanna know?” she asked.

“Yeah, you can tell me anything” he said.

“Ok, well me and the girls were talking the other day about our boyfriends. The subject of the number came up” she said

“The number?” he asked.

“Yeah, the number. How many people you’ve been with, the number” she said almost irritated by his ignorance of the matter.

“That´s what you girls talk about when you get together” he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she said with a twisted face of anger and disgust. “It´s serious stuff.”

“Easy babe” he said while running his finger down her arm affectionately, trying to get her to calm down. With this she jerked away created a space of at least a foot between their naked bodies.

“Don’t touch me. I gotta know. You are the only guy that I have ever cared about. I need to know. What´s your number. I need to know how many girls the first guy I ever fell in love with slept with!”

Bruno’s head was spinning. Though he felt highly attracted to Alexandra and enjoyed her company, it’s only been three months that they have been seeing each other. The L word had not even entered his head.

“Slow down, babe. Where is all of this coming from?” he asked.

Alexandra was now crying. “I never loved anybody so I never cared before. It bothers me so much to know that someone I love fucked a bunch of dirty whores”

Bruno was already making plans in his head to delete Alexandra from his phone and block her from his Facebook. But first, he needed to think his way out of this very moment.

“What if I told you, that you were the only one” he trailed off and came back with “that I cared about? Huh?” he thought a little humor would lighten the mood.

“TELL ME! How many whores have you fucked, Bruno?” she screamed.

Bruno stammered, “I really don´t know, I haven’t kept a real count.”

“Oh my god! You’ve fucked so many girls you don’t even know how many there were?” she said.

“No, it’s not like that, I just don’t know. I’d have to think about it” he said.

“Get to thinking” she said.

Bruno thought of a number that he thought she would except and calm down. “I think five”.

“It can’t be only five! If it were only five you would not have to think. You would have known five without thinking!” she said.

“No, five. I just never stopped to think before, that’s all” he said.

This seemed to calm her a little. “Only five? Really?”

Bruno saw that it was working. “Really” he was frantically thinking of how he could extricate himself from her bedroom without bringing on another wave of rage.

The Alexandra said “Do you love me?”

This caught Bruno completely by surprise. He saw that she wasn’t stable and he didn’t want to raise her ire so he lied “Of course. These past months have been some of the happiest of my life”

“Do want to be with me forever?” she asked.

“Of course I do” Bruno said hoping that she couldn’t sense how far from the truth this statement was.

“Then you know what we have to do to be together?” she asked.

“No” he replied.

“We have to kill those dirty whores who you fucked” she said as she stared at the ceiling, mascara staining the sides of her face making permanent black tears.

Bruno’s mind went blank.