You know, I am beginning to think that this amazing sex that I keep having is a sin. No one can have that much pleasure without any recourse. Derek and I are having amazing sex. I mean sex, is for reproducing. I don't use it as that. I will never use it as that. But it is what it is, reproduction. Making babies. Creating offspring. So, I shouldn't be enjoying freely. But, they didn't have to make it feel so damn good. If it didn't feel good, we wouldn't even care to do it. So, I am thinking that I really do need to join Grandma in church so that I do have a chance. The way I am going, if there is a hell, I will burn. And I will mostly likely burn slow.
I have been distracted. This is my problem. I tend to find one this to obsess about. I get a little addicted. I get addicted easily. Whether it is a double shot espresso from Starbucks. At once time, I was up to five a day. I was addicted. Now I just get one occasionally. See, that addiction has been replaced by a new one. Sex. Dirty. Hot. Porny sex. And I love it. All of it. So distraction, that is a problem.
I wake up. I'm actually getting used to the pain that comes daily. It is sex pain. It comes from hours and hours of painfully pleasurable sex. And it is. But the next day, my legs hurt. I find it nearly impossible to push them back together. The only time they spring apart faster is when Derek's hard cock is in front of me. I mean seriously, I can ride a seventeen hand warmblood for hours, but twenty minutes on Derek's cock and I am dying.
I slowly stumble to the bathroom. The boys are asleep. At the moment, that is good. It's really good. I actually need a short moment without seeing that body. It will be ending soon and I need to wean myself off. If I quit cold turkey, there is no saying what will happen. I painfully walk up the stairs. I am seriously thinking we need a lift. That way, I can make it up there post-coital.
My grandpa is awake. I don't say anything as I stumble into the living room. We only use the living room on Sunday. That is where the Sunday paper is read. That is the only time. It's too formal. Even sitting on the sofa just doesn't feel natural. I grab the comics, the only part of our local paper that is worth reading, and I sit down.
"I see your friend is in the paper." My grandpa says as he looks up. I look at him in confusion. My friend works for the paper, and I am wondering what in the hell she did now.
"What?" I ask as I look up at him. I am waiting for some crazy story. You never know. People are nuts.
"Your friend. She's in the obituary." He says as he leans over to hand it to me. I'm in shock. I have never felt the feeling that has sunk in my stomach. For the last two months, I knew she was dying. Even if it was guaranteed, I thought there was a chance that she would wake up and be fine. I was waiting for her to call me. I was waiting for it to be a cruel joke. I was waiting for something that would never come.
"She's dead?" I ask in shock, trying to hold it all in. I had to hold it together. I will not cry. I cannot cry.
"If she's not... Someone is playing a dirty trick on her, cause their going to bury her." He tells me with a frown. He is trying to make light. But how do you make light of your friend dying? How do you make light of someone leaving behind three young kids and a family? You don't. Those kids don't have a mom anymore.
I hide my face with the paper as the tears run down. I can barely read it. I can't see anything through the tears. I can see, that she has been dead for three days. She died two days before Christmas. As I had a good time with my family, her family was dying. I opened presents, and he kids wished they would trade them all in for their mom. I spent days having sex with Derek, and she was dead and cold.
Her husband promised me that he would call me. He promised that he would let me know. The rat bastard always hated me. I know that calling someone is the last thing you think about, but I wished he would have. Maybe I would have pulled some of pain away and taken it myself. It's hard to think that she was dead, and I didn't know. I read the paper, telling about her life and how she would be missed. It doesn't even touch how we feel. Not even close.
I quietly sneak away. I think my grandpa knows that I am torn up. See, we are emotionless. If is saw him cry, I would think it was the end of the world. I have a feeling he would feel the same way if he saw me. We aren't criers. The woman are, but I guess I'm not a woman, because I think it is weak. And I don't want people to feel sorry for me.
As I walk down the stairs, I know it is going to be a bad day. I know it will be horrible. I will have to try not to cry all day. I will have to put the mask on and pretend I don't feel. I have a feeling that every time I put that mask on, it takes away a few more of my real emotions and feelings. Eventually, they will go away. And I don't know if I will even notice.
I need relief. I need to feel something other than the pain that is taking me over. Numbness is better than pain. I need Derek. Not the emotional part of Derek. I don't need love. I don't need to be cared for. I need sex. I need it to hurt. I need it to hurt so bad. More than the emotional pain that has taken me down. I open his door and see that he is awake but laying in the bed. I quickly shut the door and lock it.
"I need sex." I tell him as I walk towards him. "I need it now."
I pull my shirt over my head as I near the bed. I need this. I need the numbness that comes along with it all. Sex it amazing. It is the most pleasurable feeing in the world. That feeling before you let it all go. The moment when you succumb to the reactions of your body. When it all falls and your body goes into wild contractions. It is amazing. It feels natural and unnatural all at the same time. When you mix that with pain, you get numbness. And sometimes numbness is just what you need.
I rip off the rest of my clothes as I near the bed. I can see the confused look on Derek's face, but I know all of that confusion will go away when he sticks his oversized manhood deep in my core. Men seem to forget anything when they squeeze themselves into you and fill you with their cum. They don't notice anything but their own selfish pleasure. And this is exactly what I was hoping for.
"I want fucked hard." I tell him as I crawl on the bed. He is already stripping himself down. He is ready. He may have still had his morning wood when I walked in. I was so deep in thought that I never thought about looking.
"Are you crying?" He asks in shock as he looks into my eyes. I am sure they are all red and puffy. I hope that I don't have tear stains. He doesn't need to see me weak.
"I don't cry." I snap as I push him angrily. At this moment, I want to hurt him as much as I hurt. I want to hurt him for no good reason at all.
"You are. What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asks me frankly. Maybe he is concerned. I don't really think it's that. I think it is more curiosity than anything. Fucking is fucking. You don't have a fuck buddy to become friends and lovers. You are in it for the hot sex.
"I am not fucking crying! It's allergies!" I yell at him. He looks taken aback at my anger. Why does he have to decide to be a decent person at this moment. I can't have that. I don't want to have that.
"Allergies... Yeah. In the middle of winter." He says with a chuckle as he leans over me.
"Let's just fuck, okay?" I ask quickly. I need the release now. I need it now, and I need to not look into his eyes. "Get a condom." I tell him as I roll over and climb on my hands and knees. I don't want him to see my tears. "Make it hurt."
"Make it hurt?" He asks almost in shock as he rolls the condom on. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he was perplexed.
"Yes. God, you stupid fuck! Just fucking do it. You're worthless." I spit angrily. I don't understand what is taking him so long. I want to turn around and hit him. I want to take my anger, hurt and frustration out on someone. Just as I get ready to spit more evil, I feel it. Derek's thick cock enters my hot pussy with haste. I feel like he is ripping me apart. I feel a stabbing pain rip through my body. Derek needs to give me foreplay to get me ready. Even if I'm wet, It need to relax, and I didn't get that chance. Derek is running his bulldozer right through me.
"Oh god!" I cry out in pain. He is huddled over me. I can feel his muscular chest against my back. He is over me like a wild animal, driving in and out. He is pounding me, with no regard. He is doing exactly as I told him.
"Good?" He asks as he sucks on my back. I think he needs to do something with his mouth. He has to suck on my as he rams his cock over and over.
I feel the tears start to come again. I am thanking god that I am like this. I am thanking god that he is riding me like and animal, unable to see the tears that are coming out of me like a free falling waterfall. He is ramming me over and over, shoving his hard rod like a weapon. He is in it for himself. He should be in it for himself. I am.
"Oh god... Harder..." I scream loudly. I don't care if I wake up the whole fucking house. I need it hard. I need him to puncture something. I need him to cause pain because I can't get her face out of my head. It is burning. It is killing me. I don't want to die. I don't want to have her fate. I don't want to see her two year old in my head talking. I can only imagine how she will grow up, without a mom. Will she ever know her?
"Oh god... Mer... You tight little fuck. You are such a dirty girl." He growls as he feels the sweat on my back. Our bodies are sliding. I can feel my fluid gushing with every penetration and withdraw. I can feel the fluid running down me.
"Oh... Oh... Oh..." I pant as the pain starts to cease and the pleasure of my pre-orgasm takes over. "Spank me, Derek... Hurt me. Hit me." I cry loudly. He smacks me firmly as he can from the angle that he is at. I think he thinks I am being exuberantly. I am crying in desperation. I am crying because I have something missing from my life. I'm not sure what to do with the piece that is now gone, leaving a void.
"Oh god... I'm gonna blow. I'm going... To... Fucking cum!" He shouts as he quickens his pace, sliding in and out freely, his balls swinging and crashing into me. I'm sure they are tightening up in anticipation of the load that he is going to blow.
I should have cum by now. I would have come by now. But the numbness thing isn't working. I can't make it all stop. Everything is buzzing and spinning. The world is madly out of control as pain takes free rein and makes us suffer. I'm not even paying attention to my body as I do finally crash. My walls clamp down and I release myself around him.
I just stay there. Everything is white. The world is white. I feel nothing. I feel no pain. No pleasure. I am just there, suspended in something that isn't horrible but isn't great. I can feel him kissing my back. I can't even tell him to stop. I just can't. I realize I can't breathe from my crying. I gasp for air.
"Did you..." He asks, referring to whether or not I had an orgasm.
"Yeah." I say frankly as I feel him pull out and collapse. I crash on the bed and turn away from him. I can't get up. More than anything, I want to run, but I can't. I can't feel anything. I don't want to.
"Are you okay?" He asks me as he looks over. I can't answer him. I have to silently cry. I have gotten so good at it, it's now second nature. He will never know. He will never know what it was.
I lay here silently. He probably knows something was wrong with me. I'm sure he does. But I can't pull myself off of this bed and run. I just don't have the energy or the drive to do it. I want to, but I can't. This is probably just as uncomfortable for him as it is for me. I just want to get up and run. Just run far and fast.
"Mer..." He says quietly in my ear. Why does he have to care? No... Guys do not care. They don't. I will ignore.
I feel the bed move as he climbs out. I am laying there naked and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. I want to be covered and hidden. I don't want to be exposed and free fro him to see. Sex is one thing. Looking at someone is another. I don't want him to see me, on the inside or the out. I hear him dress and walk out. He is gone. I am free.
I cry softly. I learned a long time ago that you need not be loud to cry hard. I can hold it all in. My shoulders may shake and the tears may fall, but I emit no sound. I can do it. I have had to for so long. As I lay there, I want to scream at myself. How could I be so stupid? How can I let this man get this close. I never should have come in here in a moment of weakness.
I finally pull myself out of the bed. I need to get dressed. I can't lay there. Life won't get better as I lay there. Nothing will improve from my tears. I will still be in pain. They will still be in pain. I have to suck it up. I have to attempt to be stronger. I have to put that front up with the face that says I am fine. People think I am grumpy. They say I am angry. I am just in pain.
"Morning." I mutter as I walk into the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to go. I see Derek is there. He is looking down at me with pity. Already they know. News travels fast when you don't want it to.
"Oh, Mer..." My grandmother says as she walked over and attempts to put her arms around me. That makes me sick. I truly makes me want to vomit. I don't want her cold arms around me.
"No. You know I don't like that." I say as I pull away. "She is in a better place or whatever." I say as I attempt to brush it off like it doesn't matter to me. It matters. It matters big time.
"She is. Her suffering is over now. She is with-" My grandma starts with all of her nonsense. It isn't necessarily nonsense, but it is something I don't care to hear.
"Yeah. I know. I know all of that. I'm fine, okay? It's not like I didn't know." I say with a shrug as I drink my juice. I need to get the hell out of here. Like these people even care about me or my life. They are fake. Phony. They don't matter. Not really.
"Mer... Are you sure you're okay? I mean... I had a friend who was in a car accident and... It was rough. I know how you feel." Mark told me, trying to off whatever bit of solace he could muster. I didn't want to hear it. Maybe he is weak, I am not.
"I said I was fine. I guess I am stronger than you. People can be fine." I tell them all as I walk away. The thing is... I am really making myself look foolish not strong. You don't realize that when you are there.
That is how my day goes. I avoid any possible awkwardness. I stay away from places that will cause me pain. I try to hide under this mask. I think even I am wondering what is beneath it. I haven't seen that person in a very long time. I don't want to see that person. That person might have feelings. And I am realizing that feelings are bad. For me, they are very bad.
I talked to one of my friends. We were all mutual friends. There are some things you would rather not know. Some things that make you sick. Some things that piss you off. Well, I found out one of those things. It seems my friend's husband really is a rat bastard. He was seen in the mall. He was seen in the mall shopping. His wife is dead, and he shops happily. When asked why he didn't alert us of our close friend's death... He forgot. Yeah. Fuck you, buddy. Fuck you. He makes me sick. Beyond sick. Something that is far too deep and damaging to even talk about.
The day sucked. It did because I have no idea how to function. No idea whatsoever. And now, I have to go to the showing. I never did understand people staring at the dead. I do not want people to stare at me. The whole idea is kind of sickening. I am dead. In a box. Come look at me? Not my idea of a good time. And as far as closure goes, that is bullshit. Complete bullshit.
I hate it. I hate the smell. It's too good. It's a cover your nose they are trying to cover something with the fresh flowers smell. And flowers, I am beginning to hate them. As I walk in, people are crying. I want to cry. I start to cry. And I see her. She is dead. You always look. To see if they are breathing. Occasionally you will see that imaginary breath. It's not real. She is dead. I have never seen a person look so bad. A skeleton covered in flesh and makeup. He never should have done this to her. He is desecrating her. Yeah, it is quite obvious she is dead as I stare at her skeletal face. This makes me sick.
"No crying." The ass says to me as I walk up. How can he say that? He isn't crying. Maybe months of watching your wife dying will do that to you. I've never been there... I can't judge. But I am. He is an asshole.
"I'm sorry... This is..." I trail off. What do you say? There are no words. No words at all. Even if he is an ass. Then it comes to mind. "What about Dance?" I ask, referring to her horse. The one thing that meant to much to her.
"Oh... He's going. He's going away." He tells me frankly. He hated that horse with a passion. That horse meant too much to her. So much that she wanted to be around him. She didn't want to be home.
"Oh." I say as I hand him the card. I wrote a check. I know they will need it. I find out later he never cashed it. He hated me. And letting that horse go, that proved it. She wanted me to take him. And now what will I have left of her? Nothing. Not a damn thing.
I go to grandma's. I feel so sick. I can't breathe. I want to hide. I want to die. I want so much and nothing at the same time. As I walk in, the air of pity fills my lungs and knocks me out. People hug me. They say they are sorry. So sorry. I cry. And I cry. I cry and cry. Right there. Whimpering.
"She is in a better place." They tell me quickly.
"Not her... I am not crying over her. Dance. I can't lose dance." I cry out. It's the truth. They look at me in disgust. I don't care. I miss her. But who will be his advocate? Who will make sure he gets what he needs?
"I'm sorry about your friend... I know you don't like hugs." Derek tells me as he walks up. I look at him. I want nothing more than for him to hug me. I need it. I want it. But instead... I walk away.