I could feel something pulling me away from Morpheus's arms, and frankly, I didn't mind. I'd give anything in the world to wake up like that every day of my life.
"Arghhhh... It's so good! Yes... Hmmm, yes like this hon’... Oh yes!"48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrLSt1PrRX8
I couldn't stop my body torpedoing at the wave of pleasure his mouth was unleashing on me. I tried to hold back my moans, but the tongue sloshing erotically over the entire length of my penis had driven my sense of modesty away. At this point, I didn't give a damn about anyone who could hear us, even the kids, because fuck, I loved how he sucked me so good and my penis would waddle down his throat in symbiosis with his head bobbing back and forth. I could hear him gagging and choking on my penis every time he pushed it a little deeper into his throat. I could feel his saliva waltzing over the full width of my glans and forming long crystalline webs, trickling down to my pubic bone, drowning his perverted face in the most obscene way possible. I desperately tried to open my eyes and contemplate my man devouring my meat like his last breakfast ever, but the sensation was so damn good that I just couldn’t. I couldn't resist the jolts of voluptuousness; on the contrary, I contorted myself further, feeling every tickle that ran through my nerves, running from my belly to my toes. My arms were lost under the pillows, and my whole torso pitching from left to right, waiting for my penis to finally release the leak of deliverance. I was a panting mess. And he was still engulfing me in his trachea monstrously. He had slightly lifted my hip and stabilized his elbows against the soft nets of the bed, in order to perform his oral rite with ferocious vivacity and tenfold drive... But my body was unfortunately about to abdicate from our fuck...
"Baby... Ry… I-I don't... Arrrghhh... I'm gonna cum..."
I was lazily squeezing out my last few sex breaths when he suddenly stopped. I was so fucking close to cumming! I slowly opened my eyes, disappointed that he'd left me like that as if I was a mere prostitute. And before I could spit in his face what a piece of shit he was to have toyed with me so much just to abandon me in my unsatisfied urges, he had sluttishly turned me face down on the bed, and slumped against my asshole, licking it so voluptuously, skimming the entrance with his jets of saliva, then distinctly tearing my ass apart with his talented, expert fingers... And when... he pointed his hard member against my entrance, dominated me savagely, pulled me up by my long black hair, ruffling it in an unusual mess, my back shuddering against his chest in a frenzied sexual tingling ; and he squeezed my throat in the hollow of his elbow muscle, and I begged him choking in his grip like a pathetic victim, and he whispered sexual filth to me like his little slut, and our sighs and moans squeaked in unison, and he pounded my prostate with endless repetitive strokes, and together we spurted our semen, reaching ecstasy in the same cadence...48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwGCGW6bB31
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This pleasure has been stolen from me since Tuesday, September 13. Criminals still at large, have taken it away from me. Every night, my subconscious traps me in a new scenario, condemned to the same odious epilogue.
And just like tonight, my eyes open abruptly, greeted by the warmth of the dark.
It was just another nightmare to remind me that... that... Ryan is dead.
I have a bad headache. Since he died, since they murdered him, my nights have been cut short. It's a miracle I sleep four hours at least. But I can’t afford to waste time feeling sorry for myself. I have to be there for my kids. For Moon, who is learning to face the challenges of adolescence and high school... and for my son, my Vic, who saw his father torn to pieces in front of our own villa on the evening of his birthday party.
I close my eyes again, just to get used to the gangrenous migraine, which I know won't go away even if I take a whole bottle of paracetamol. I let my hand wander over the bedside landing to find the alarm, which strangely enough hadn't gone off today. I struggle to find it, which is understandable since it's so dark. I've never got used to the idea of sleeping in the glare of light. Ryan and I used to argue about it all the time. He always wanted to have the lights on, and I thought it was just stupid. Why is there such a thing as night if you have to have the lights on all the time? In the end, we came to an agreement: every other night, we could sleep under the light, as long as he bought a low-glare lamp. He was pretty upset about it, and sulked and sulked... but I didn't give a damn, it was either a low-glare lamp or we both slept in the dark like the two grown men we were. He hadn't spoken to me for two days, and it was a good thing too cause I let my ass breathe, I mean, no more fucking until further notice. The first night, the next and I could see he was trying not to touch me, I'd forbidden him access anyway until he became a mature, responsible man again, not a little boy anxious to be greeted with the appearance of some random monster. He'd finally bought his little bedside lamp and made copious love to me to forgive himself... And he'd also bought me French bread with shrimps. Clever boy, he knew I was crazy about that dish and that I'd forgive him anything if he brought it to me.
I struggle to find it, which is understandable since it's so dark. I've had to gather up all his things, including his bedside lamp, since he died _ what's the point of having it if I hated sleeping with the lights on_ under instruction from my mother and pressure from Allan, who want me to ‘live again’. "You're young Mase, you're not going to waste your life moping about an accident you had no control over". Exactly, they all labelled it an ‘accident’ like they were victims of psychotic amnesia... They were all there, just like me... they saw it... they saw his body so unrecognizable, it had been crushed like a dog's food and his torso riddled with bullets.
"Hum”
I sigh involuntarily. It's 7:40 when I finally find the alarm on the step of the bed. You've got to be kidding me! I'm running late for work, and the kids… I haven't made them breakfast yet... WAIT… Are they awake yet anyway?
OH FUCKING GOODNESS! I've got to meet Mr Thomas at exactly 8.
"Arrrgghhh."
I slap myself to shake off any nonchalance and without giving any more credit to my inner monologue _ which has enough to complain about on its script by the way and make me more miserable_ I run towards the large dining room. I miss a step or two on the stairs but land in complete pieces at the threshold of the reinforced glass door. I picked up this massive package during one of my vacations in Japan. Whatever...
"Mudtchy!"
Vic is sitting on his "throne" as he likes to call it, already dressed for school, grotesquely filling his mouth.
"Ewww Vic, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk with your mouth full?"
I take my place beside him, making sure to give him my inquisitive look: ‘Muddy will make you stand in the corner if you don't learn some manners’.
He quickly gobbles up the leftovers in his mouth before resuming, this time with more gusto.
"MUDDY!"
I can't stop the laugh that escapes my lips. Vic only calls me "Muddy", an atrophied combination of "Mummy" and "Daddy". It was hard to get used to at first, because I thought he meant I was dirty (the truth always comes out of children's mouths). I remember spending hours washing and disinfecting myself so that he'd stop calling me by that name, but no matter... Until one day, Ryan explained the meaning behind Muddy. Thank God, because I was thinking of seeing a dermatologist, I was thinking at that point that maybe I had a vile smell that I had no idea about _ At the same time, I'm sure Ryan would have told me if I did? Or maybe he wouldn't have?
"Vic, _ I make sure to sneak peeks into the detectable rooms from where we are_ where's your sister? And who... Who helped you get ready for school? Who made you this dish? Vic don't tell me you've touched the oven, I've forbidden you to though-..."
"I chidn’t do anything Muddy... It’ch Moon who ditch-it by herchelf and she... she woked me up and helped me to wear my uniforme."48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrKaOL1Oi4I
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"Oh... and where is she?"
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"She's already left for school. I wanted to go with her but she chaid you willth take me anyway. Muddy, Muddy... Why doeth Moon like to wear black paint on her face? And super-short black clothes...?"
I just sigh, not offering any direct answers to the boy. I don't know Vic, I just don't know.
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"Muddy, why aren't fiou up atch work today? Are you feeling okay?"48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9WcJOuPcV6
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Vic started losing his teeth two months ago, which I think is a bit too late for him as he'll soon be nine. Since then, he's been adding some extra "ch" and “th” to all his words. My son is so cute, with his loose teeth and the gaps left by all those that have already fallen out.
"Muddy's a bit tired Vic. Between the corporate inventory since last week and the death-... hum... it'll pass my love, it'll be fine!"
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"What's an infen-inthent’ry?"
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"Inventory, Vic, Inventory. Vic, it's _ I glance at his wristwatch_ oh my God Vic! It'll be 8 in 10 minutes, you've got to go! The bus will be here soon! Come on! Come on!".
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I insisted to Ryan that the kids should go to school with the school bus. Something we both agreed on. We could afford private drivers; we have four or five, in fact. But we always wanted the kids to fit in well with the other kids and not be isolated by their social status. Does this mean I'm not worried about what might happen to my kids the minute they walk through the door? Absolutely not! I often worry, even more now, that the monster who murdered their father will come back to decimate my whole family. They all tell me I'm just being paranoid, even my mother. However, I refuse to let my worries affect my children's lives and make them as socially unaware as I am, due to having been cloistered in a house.
"Muddy..."
"Yes, my darling boutchou_ my father is French_ whom I love with all my heart?”
"Oh stop-itch Muddy... I'm not a kidth anymore!"
"Really? Who's not a kid anymore? The little boy who's lost all his teeth and will only be nine?"48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmEXCUgXhOC
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I laugh and stick my tongue out at him. He looks so annoyed that I'm teasing him like this. My son is growing up, lord...
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"Mudddy, today afternoon you'll come to my recital won'tch-you?"
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"Oh..."
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Vic's face collapses in a sea of questions and incomparable disillusionment .
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"You... You forgoth already? But... But I told you I had a recital schedtchuled for today and you promised you'd come."
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Tears begin to fill my son's eyes, and my heart is already tearing into little pieces. He's the first reason I decided to own my life back and not let Ryan's death destroy me. I can't watch him cry.
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"But who told my little boss here that I'd forgotten his recital? I've already planned a big feast for him!" Oh yes, I forgot my angel.
I sigh inwardly and quickly lift him into the airplane position to cheer him up.
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"I thought you did dance though?"
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"Recital, Muddy!"
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"You should be a comedian normally!"
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And then I tickle him. I love to see him laugh. He's proof that, after all, I did the right thing in defying my mother and uniting my life with Ryan. I don't think that alone, or if I hadn’t found the love of my life, I would have had the courage to adopt a child.
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"You promise you'll come Muddy?"
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"I promise, my love, I promise!"
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I just hope I don't fuck this up.
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