Chapter 1 - Reunion
Milena is talking with her youngest child, “I can’t wait to see you all.”
“Who all is coming?” Speaking into her smartphone while looking out the window of her city apartment in the hipster part of town.
“Everyone,” Milena says again and then she elaborates, “Uncle Bill, his wife. Teddy. My sisters and their families—”
Her daughter interrupts her before she can go on any further, “Is Robert going to be there?”
Milena looks at her phone, “Of course he’s going to be here.”
“I don’t see why he has to come. No one wants him there anyways.”
“Lina! Don’t talk about your brother like that.” She walks through the living room of the traditional style built house and looks out; through the window, she can see the red and oranged leaves blow in the November breeze. A few leaves fall on the lawn of the picket white fence. Back through the window and into the home decorated for the upcoming holiday, Milena is listening to her daughter.
“Look what happened last time we had a family reunion.”
“It’s not his fault,” she pauses for a second, “people just don’t understand him.”
Lina rolls her eyes at her mother’s words but keeps her thoughts inside: Robert is a loser. Probably still on drugs too. “Well, I just hope things don’t turn out like last time.”
“We at least we got some damn good pie out of that fiasco.”
Lina laughs as she thinks: Ture. I don’t know big bro does it, but his pies are the best.
Issac comes up behind Milena and starts kissing her on the neck. She knows what that means. “Lina, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay mom. I have to go too.” They hang up.
Milena turns around and faces her man. While making out they slowly make their way to a place more suitable for what’s to come.
In the master bedroom of this home that helped raise three kids, two boys and a girl, a husband kisses his wife. Her skin undulates under the pressure of his fingers; because of the grooves, his fingerprints interlock with the cracks of her time-kissed skin. And they move more than just lips—heat—Ass pushing into his softness while he kisses her; her face is turned towards him; allowing his lips to almost reach hers. She bows her kneck an invitation for the twins to come and do what they do best—heat—Smacking, is the sound of his saliva breaching from his lips; strands of his fluid finally breaking when the twins move to her shoulder blade. They don’t let up—heat—In her silver radiant hair, his nostrils intoxicate on the saturated scent; and to this sweetness, his body reacts beyond his control; blood surges, suddenly and powerfully, his whole body arches; and he is forced to grab on for dear life; just so happens, her, c-cup, twins are closest—heat—His body is glowing red. He’s heaving for relief, but all he receives is the scent his body thralls for—heat—Pussy weeps when she feels him deep. All this heat is from all these heartbeats. When hearts sing it sounds like this.
-We’re closest when in the heat-
Her side rubbing along the sheets as her body is pushed from his fervid thrusts: You’re not as hard as you once were, but I feel you more than ever.
-let us stay—stay until we feel the same—same--
I know I’m not as good as I once was, but I try more than ever. He tries to keep things going by changing positions. This way--that way and back to how they started, still, no matter what he does he has to leave her sooner--much sooner than he wants. She feels him exit her and then his warm stream rolling up her back in spurts.
She kisses his arm that is wrapped around her while the prevailing thought in her is: I love you.
Each kiss that touches his arm causes guilt to grow inside him. Guilt because such a woman loves him. Guilt because he knows she deserves so much more. Guilt, because those kisses remind him of when she was the one moaning and gasping for reprieve; instead, here he is a sweating mess. Something overcomes him, maybe it’s the guilt or perhaps it’s the need to show her something he fears she has forgotten.
-Love, never forget. Love never forgets. Or did you forget?-
The pride in this old man swells. He kisses the back of her neck. He concentrates: Get hard. Thinking of nothing but touching her and moving with her. He does everything he can think of to get himself back into the mood; his efforts are not unfelt, instinctually, her body serpentines against him. As much as he kisses and touches her, frustration remains: Damn it, I’m still not hard enough. No matter what he does it just doesn’t seem enough to get ready—yet another reason to feel guilty. But he’s not in the mood for a guilt-trip. He spreads her cheeks and shoves his limp-dick in.
-Looove you in the light. Looove you in the dark. Looove you in the moment.-
He is jagged with his movements. His loose skin gripping to her walls, and she can’t help but flinch from the harshness. Him going for second helpings, she is taken back by this:—oh he’s not going to stop. Her body’s natural protection from the harshness lubricates things along. On the prowl for her body, his hands have long since left her asscheeks. His fingers lightly rubbing her nipples, and his rough rams become less abrupt; when loose skin has lessened, strides become more prolonged and fluent. Her body thanks him with more of the water that hydrates his muscle. Kissing and touching, time is not a concern. Tomorrow’s reality be there, do that—none of that matters, not when he’s trying to remind her of something—not when she moaning like this. Loose skin is no more; transformed, he has resorted to strokes that match his deep and steady breaths. He pauses as he commands himself: Don’t cum! Once he reigns in his sensitivity; hard and hot, pushing her against his body like he can’t get enough of her. Her moans cease when his tip splits her to a point she hasn’t felt from him in a long time. She almost forgot about this, and she is taken back to a younger time.
[Throwback] Issac is on top of her. Their clothes have not yet left their bodies. Their hands quickly move to relieve her pants, his pants.
While he is going at pace bearly considered movement, She smiles at the thought when she couldn’t slow him down even if her life depended on it.
[Throwback] He rips her panties off. The pinch of her underwear ripping off leaves her skin sore: Why the hell did he do that! I love tho—her thoughts are interrupted by him slipping inside her. He slams into her over and over, her mind thinks: Damn, I can’t breathe. She cries out not in pleasure but in pain. He mistakes the pleads for encouragement and goes even hard: Oh god! Suddenly as the agony is too much to bear a natural built-in system of her body relieves her of her pain. Waves of endorphins and adrenaline brew for a cocktail of pleasure. He keeps the pace and Milena is amazed and fearful while the intervals of pleasure overcome her: Jeez is he ever going to cum?! Just then her body curves in preparation to what is to come: Oh fuck, not again! Her body shakes with pleasure and pain. Damn this guy’s a beast. I need to figure something out, or he’s going to kill me! She puts her hands on his hips, preventing him from going deeper than she wants. He is pushing down hard, and she knows she can’t hold him where she wants. She speaks her thoughts, trying her best keep her tone salutary, “I want to feel you from the back.” Thinking that she has found a solution: I know guys cum faster doing it from the back.
He stands up. She flips herself around. Once Milena is on all four, he squats down and enters her. He places his hands on her shoulders and picks up where he left off—hard and fast. Minutes fly by, for Milena it feels like forever. “I want you to cum,” she says half scream half moan. He increases his effort while answering her call, “I’m going fuck you all day and night.”
Oh no! She believes him. Panicking, she drops flat to the ground. He looks down at her. In between breathes, he speaks to her . . .
Issac is completely unaware that Milena is in her own mind. Right now, he’s just trying his best to do it like he used to—but failing miserably. Milena trembles to the thought of what happened next—the reason she will always stay waiting and ready for his dick.
[Throwback] . . .“Something wrong?”
She doesn’t answer him. She doesn’t know what to say: Yeah dude, there is something wrong. You’re trying to kill me with your dick! Before she can figure out what to say to him, the sound of him laying on the ground breaks her from her thoughts causing her to look over.
“Show me,” his head is turned in her direction, resting upon the planks of black wood that decorate the highrise; while his lips move, “how I should do it.”
She slowly gets up, a little wobbly. She steps one leg over him and slowly and carefully mounts him. Weight tends to drop, and she feels it hot when she feels the gravity of her body sink on The-Heft; wincing on his generosity; and finally, when the curves of her ass cheeks lay upon his pelvis, his big and plenty welcomes her hospitality—GASP—lips wide open, a mouth inhales it all. Her hair dangling, back hunched, while she looks down at him. After her moment, she gives him what he asked for. She arches her back—it helps. She slowly lowers to his chest. With chest to chest, she gradually lifts her ass up. He wraps his arms around her, smushing her closer. Pussy drops, rain drops. She can’t stop when she feels that spot. The pussy-fall increases in succession with each previous waterfall. Woman possessed, rocking and swerving; she can’t help but cry him a river, hollering, “YES—YES!”
His head leaning up towards her. Big spoon’s kisses land all over her chest and neck while little spoon celebrates until he’s happy or she’s happy whichever comes first.
Hour by hour, Issac begins to slow. Skin red hot and sweaty, his breathing has become more labored. He’s trying to love her like he knows he can. A mixture of guilt and pride fills his brain. A guilty man’s body language speaks, bending down savoring a kiss of her lips: I’m going to need help. I can’t power through it like I used to. She understands, so she turns her head and kisses his forearm, her way of encouraging and saying: do your thing baby—you got this. Inch by inch, a prideful man sweats on; and a devoted woman begins moving her hips with a deserving man.
[Throwback] She has definitely come first, but she is not happy yet. She slows her insane pace. She lays there panting as she thinks: How has he not came yet?! She squeaks when she feels the sensation of him on the move. Fucking her from the bottom like: Damn don’t stop! I’m trying to cum. His hands grab her shoulders. Using his arm power to push her down when she bounces up. Squirming, the nails of her fingertips leave cuts down his chest. The dick got that pussy squeamish. She feels it in her stomach; queasy, she puts her hand over her mouth. She can’t hold it back, throw-up pushes out from between the gaps of her fingers. The bile spills all over him. He does not stop. His persistence gots her irritated with him: Damn, he is waaay too horny! She speaks on her thoughts, “I want off.”
Nope, he keeps going. She starts slapping his chest as she reiterates, “Stop, I want off!”
He hugs her causing bits of throw-up to touch her body. With her close to him, he stands up. He looks into her eyes and speaks to her, “Don’t worry about it,” walking with her still mounted, “We’ll clean this off.” He walks into the restroom. He turns on the shower; and no sooner than the water starts rinsing them off, he’s already pushing up in her. The warm water helps do what her body is naturally doing. Some of the shower water that rolls over them is pushed in by his dick. With his dick slickened, she forgives him. His kisses on her neck help her see things his way. The water is hot but bodies lit on sex feel at ease with the heat. He sets her down. “Turn around,” He says.
She obliges him. He gets back in, and the two continue. He keeps going, and at this point, she is no longer questioning it. Just enjoying the moment and somewhere among the bliss, their skin begins to gain goosebumps as the water has become ice cold. In the heat of the moment, they didn’t realize the gradual cooling of the water. She feels him stop and pull out. She looks back like: Why did you stop? She sees him out of the shower holding his hand out for her. She takes his hand. He wraps her in a towel and then picks her up. He goes to the bedroom and gently sets her on the bed. With other things on their minds, they forgot to turn off the water. He opens the towel that wraps her. He doesn’t have to say a thing. She knows what to do. She lifts her legs wide open in the air. She knows what’s coming next as she thinks: Normally I like it slow and easy. Sometimes I like it really hard and rough--has to be the right situation.
He puts his weight down on her, using his arms to push her legs next to her head. He gives it all he has. I guess this is right situation because the only complaints she gives are moans when she is verging climax. And begins a sex session that she for the next serval years will come to call normal. [End Throwback]
Milena, eyes wide open, studies Issac. This sudden determination from him has reminded her of the appreciation for her lover. Abruptly and without a word, he pulls out. Long streams of his liquid splatter across her face and chest. Her body is glowing, and a happiness covers her face.
He hasn’t dicked her like he used—not even close. He may not be able to last as long as he used to but as long as he is still hard, he is going to keep on until he satisfies her like the old days. As he lowers down to enter her, she stops him.
She slides off the bed and on to her knees. Looking up at him; without hands, she takes him in her mouth. Her teeth scrap across him as her lips continue to hug every new inch that comes there way; all the while, she maintains eye contact. Her eyes water as she feels The-Beast expand her throat. Her nose pushes against his lower abdomen. Still keeping eye contact, she retreats her lips back along his girth. Until her teeth sang on his head, giving a gentle pull until her lips smack off his tip. Her saliva rolls onto her face as she licks the length of his scrotum. Once she is back at the top of his dick, she swallows him. She is going to nurse his dick until she’s satisfied.
After she has got her fill, she makes him cum, and then, cum again because she could tell he wasn’t done—not even close. She knows him well enough to know these sort of things. She feels him shrinks in her mouth; and through a white film, her eyes still have not left him. He collapses on the bed. She walks over to her side of the bed and lays down next to him. He is fast asleep. She kisses him on the shoulder blade. Her way of saying thank you. She stays there next to her man and thinks: I know you think you’re not as good as you used to be. I’ve never liked it hard and rough as much as I enjoy it like this. She studies him: How can you know me so well and yet not know that about me? She kisses him again: I love you so much.
The next day arrives. Milena is in the kitchen brewing some coffee. A little while later the man of the house greets his wife with a hug. Putting his hands underneath her morning robe as to feel her better.
While Mom and Dad have a delightful morning conversation; in another part of the country, a child in turmoil seeks for a way home.
Robert knocks on the door. He waits in the cold, rubbing his hands together. On the other side of the double-wide entrance, an eye peers through the looking glass. A voice comes from behind her, “Who is it?” He can tell who it is. How her body language has changed. He had forgotten how it felt to see her like this: It is him—Robert. He knows he is no longer second fiddle, but observing her he cannot help but become a little jealous: Look at her, she is thinking about what she is going to say to him.
He plays along and waits for her to answer. “It’s Robert . . .”
He takes a few steps closer to her. “Do you want me to tell him to leave?”
She hesitantly shakes her head. She opens the door. The cold hits her face. She doesn’t know what to say so she doesn’t say anything.
Robert speaks, “I came by to ask for some money.”
She sighs: What’s new. She starts to close the door; and before Robert can get in a word, the sound of the door slamming shut hits him in the face and the clicking of the lock rings in his brain.
“I’m going to be visiting my family. I need some clothes. I’ll pay you back.” He waits. She gives him one last look through the peephole and then walks away. After getting only silence, he leaves.
Him showing up like that out of the blue has got her angry with him. She busies herself with work and her daily routines. Later that night, in her pajamas, she slips into her warm bed. The sound of the light switching off—click—a small radius of light glows back the dark on Breeanna’s side. She turns her head and explains, “I’m going to stay up and read a little.”
“Okay, good night.”
She opens the drawer of her nightstand and grabs out the latest romance novel, Big Love In A Small World, from her favorite author Joe Hinostro.
Page by page her eyes happily take in the lovely story. Then she stops in mid-read. The hero, Otius, has just done something that’s she can’t just read over: Yeah right, I’ver heard that before. After all the things he’s put her through—she has to let him go. Before now things were easy to take in but not now. She closes the romance. She needs a break from all this heaviness. She puts away the book and turns off the light.
The alarm of phone wakes her. She goes through her morning routine. She leaves the house with coffee in hand—gotta have that. She gets in her car; and before she drives off, she checks her purse to see if she has cash. She makes a quick detour to an A.T.M. She then drives to a part of town she hasn’t been to in a long time—the apartment building where Robert lives. Once inside she finds out Robert no longer lives there. She gets back in the car. Through a few calls made to mutual friends that leads to calls made to close friends of his, she finds herself in front of a derelict building: This can’t be right? She walks in. Troubled by the atrocious surroundings, she definitely is not going in any further. She calls out, “Robert?” A few seconds of nothing, so she turns around and leaves.
She knows that voice. She turns back towards the building. Robert walks out of the house.
She opens her purse and takes out a few Jacksons; nothing needs to be said, taking a few steps to him, she pushes the money into his chest. He is forced to take a step back. Already back turned and well on her way when she hears Robert’s voice, “I—I can do the reception.”
She stops; and he continues, “I can guarantee that you’ll have the best food at your wedding reception.”
Without turning around. “Is that how you’re going to pay me back?”
“It’s going to cost you more than this—but yeah.”
She turns around and writes something down. “That’s my new number. Figure out the costs and get back to me with a number.” She leaves as fast as she can—she already late.
He is left there in the cold looking down at the few bills in his hands.
On the way, speeding, to work--she admits that they will always be connected: The things you’ve said and the shit you’ve done to me (bad and good—he gets that from his daddy). Why do you always do this to me! It’s driving her nuts. She doesn’t want to think about it anymore, so she turns on the radio and turns it up.
An hour later. Breeanna is well into her workday, and Robert is at the corner liquor store. He and the owner are friends.
“Hey momma, I’ll be coming home a day early,” calling from the liquor store’s phone.
“Nothing is wrong. I just want to come home a day early—that’s all.”
“Okay—well I’m glad you are. Everyone is going to be so happy to see you.”
He smiles at those words: Good ol’ mom always telling those lies. “Well, I’mma let you go. Bye mom.”
“Okay—be safe. And stay warm. I heard on the news it’s really cold over there.” Robert is her oldest, but Milena has always worried over him as if he was her youngest.
He smiles. “Yes mom. I will. Bye.”
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, Joe HinostroWrite a Review