Good N' Plenty

Good N' Plenty

A Fictional Short Story by Anthony Presti

            After the funeral I felt empty. I suppose that's normal after experiencing such a tragic event. Death is exhausting. The only person who gets any rest is the deceased. Many times, especially after mother's shrieks, I envied father. I wanted inside his coffin and to be buried ten feet underground with him. I was even willing to be buried alive just for the sake of some peace and quiet. With dirt in my ears I wouldn't hear the soft mumblings through the crowd of curious, gossiping hounds. "I heard he asphyxiated himself?" One gluttonous woman said to a tall, pale man. They were my aunt and uncle. "He tied a telephone chord around his throat while masturbating. Can you believe that?" No, I can't because we didn't have a phone with a chord. The nineties, along with phone chords, are long in the past. It was a tie.

            I looked back over my shoulder, after stealthily sneaking off to the line of Oak trees that towered above cracked tombs and bronze headstones. Mother blew her nose on a white handkerchief and shrieked again as the first shovel of dirt hit the rosewood coffin. Father's best friend, Gordie, barely flinched. He just kept filling the rectangular hole designated for death like he was hypnotized. I commended his lack of emotion. It was really astounding, especially after achieving so many bowling titles and fishing competitions together. Two people can only go through so much before their relationship elevates beyond friendship, even if they're the same gender. I always envied their friendship because they maintained it for years and never argued, usually when a relationship escalates people sabotage it. Guys find a girl to fight over, or girls don't return borrowed clothing, or a man and a woman get married, divorced, and make each other's lives hell for the rest of eternity. Petty arguments can ruin even the strongest relationships. 

            Father and Gordie always agreed on everything without discussion. They just gave each other the nod and it always worked out. That's why they were the reigning bowling champions for ten years, and had caught the biggest fish on the coast of Rhode Island in the past twenty. I observed Gordie intently. Not a tear shed from his eye. Mother was now sprawled out over my two sisters, my obese Aunt, and my freakishly tall uncle. I slipped into the cracks of the giant Connecticut Oak trees and into the shade where the darkness swallowed me.

"What are you doing?" I heard a soft voice from a small opening between trees. A ray of sunlight illuminated a petit shadow. I thought I was alone.

"I'm grieving," was my reply.

"With your pants around your ankles?"

"Yes. I hate these pants, too formal for my taste." That was a lie.

"You have no taste. You're just like your father." I couldn't help but wonder who this voice belonged to. I slowly swallowed my pride and lifted my pants to my waist. "You don't have to stop because of me. This is your funeral. If this is how you honor the life of your father, then that's your decision."

"I'm not honoring him. I mean, not now. I just got overwhelmed."

"Funerals are supposed to be overwhelming, and people cry to let out their emotions. They don't usually masturbate in between trees and graves." It seemed she wasn't just a stranger anymore, but a formidable enemy, and possibly even a worse, a potential lover.

"Shhh, keep your voice down. Who are you anyways?"

"I guess I'm your best friend. You better hope you can trust me." The shadow turned and raced towards the chaos. I took two steps until my pants found themselves back down around my ankles. The sunlight flirted with exposing me but I pulled my pants up in time. Another scowl from my mother pierced the air and a loud roar from my sister blew with the wind into my ears like a horn.

"Get your ass over here, mother needs you!" Mother didn't really need me, they were just sick of tending to her. It was my turn anyway, they put in their dues. No one was particularly close with mother. Everyone loved father and his death was crushing to us all, but taking care of mother was even more devastating. If I wasn't curious to who this phantom girl was, I probably never would have adhered to my sister's orders. I very slowly made my way over to the gathering that was depleting with every scoop of the shovel. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces, people that my father apparently worked with. I thought maybe this girl was one of their daughters, but she was nowhere in sight. I decided to take a small detour to my mother and circle around the grave. There was still nothing but subtle whispers of incorrect rumors, "I heard he strangled himself with a seatbelt while he was driving and jerking off," said a short bald man to another short bald man, whom had no relation to me. I had no idea who they were, but their information was all wrong. It wasn't a seatbelt, it was a tie; and he was in the back seat.

"Mother needs you!" My sister somehow projected quite loudly between her grinding teeth. It was as if they were attempting to tame a drunken Chimpanzee. Mother's arms were now swaying from side to side, her body stiffening and crumbling with no apparent pattern, drool spewed from both sides of her mouth and her eyes were bolting from side to side. While it took four people to restrain her, I somehow had the power to manage her on my own. Her demeanor straightened as though I was her savior. She put an arm around my neck and balanced herself against my shoulder.

"Thank you," mother spoke in my ear. "These people have no clue what they're doing." Her breath smelled heavily of black licorice.

"Are you eating Good N' Plenty's again?" My mother had a strange addiction to those candies. She actually attended FA meetings for it.

"Son, your father is dead. My food habits are the least of our worries." At that moment the girl appeared with a box of candy, she threw it on the ground and smiled.

"Mother, can you please stand up on your own?"

"But, I need support right now. You were doing such a great job." Mother didn't need support; she just wanted to steal the spotlight of Father's funeral. The support she needed and desired would never end. If we gave her a little, she demanded a lot. And if we gave her a lot, there was no end.

"You have lots of support, but you also have two legs. Use them please, Mother." I pushed her off and she stood stunned.

"What's the reason for your absurd behavior?" She barked. I pointed to the empty pack of Good N' Plenty. "You must believe me, that wasn't from me."

"I know," I said, with my hand to my forehead like a visor, "and I must find who it belonged to."

"Oh, well, if it brings me more Good N' Plenty, and makes you happy, then carry on." This was one of the first times my mother supported me in something. I started jogging after this phantom girl and heard mother's sobs start blaring like a siren, followed by my sister's exasperated groans as mother toppled herself onto them.

            My sisters are twins, Magdelena and Minerva. Odd names compared to mine.

            I ran up a grassy hill in hopes that this girl walked slowly. There were a long line of cars parked in a narrow lot which I headed towards, looking in the windows of each and every car. I was again startled by a voice.

"Are you looking for a car to masturbate in?" I turned around to face the girl.

"Why on Earth would you ask me that?"

"Because you're just like your father." My father was found in the back seat of a car after asphyxiating himself with a tie while masturbating.

"I am not."

"I saw you in the trees earlier. I know about your father. The whole town knows, and you're just like him."

"I am not. I told you, I'm just grieving. I'm sure you have weird tendencies too."

"Masturbating in public is more than a weird tendency. It's a freakish obsession."

"So are Good N' Plenty's." The girl stood silent. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"I'm your best friend, remember?"

"No, you aren't. You don't even know me. I demand you reveal your identity."

"Ooh, I like demands, but I don't follow orders from strangers. I might be your best friend, but you are hardly mine. If you want your secret kept safe then you will listen to me. I can't tell you who I am, at least not now, but you can meet me at your father's grave tomorrow night, under the full moon. Bring yourself and tell nobody." Before any other words could escape my mouth the girl turned and ran down the narrow strip of pavement. She didn't enter a car or leave with a family. She just ran.  

            I walked back to the scene. Mother was now restrained and occupied, talking to another couple. My sisters were both standing impatiently and bored. My obese aunt and tall uncle were nowhere in sight and surely left the first moment available. Gordie was still piling on the dirt, which now covered his face and was still phlegmatic and calm. The sun was going down and the clouds were rolling in. "Can we go now," Minerva interrupted Mother.

"Yes, we will go when Gordie is finished."

"I'm finished," Gordie stood on top of the mound of dirt, proud that he alone buried his best friend. "And I'm going home." We all knew there was nothing else to accomplish here. Gordie stuck the shovel into the dirt and walked away in silence. Two Hispanic men grabbed the shovel and flattened out the surface. Smiles formed on their faces as Gordie had done their job quite adequately.

"Do you still have the keys?" Mother asked. I jingled my pockets and heard my keys clash.

"Yes."

"Great, I'm in no condition to drive," she mumbled through a stuffy nose. My sisters, on each side of her, embraced her. We were all exhausted. Death can really take its toll on a person and a family.

            Two days were going to be tough. All I could think about was that girl. Her eyes seemed to glare at me through stop lights. Her face appeared in reflections of shop windows; horns tantalized me, reminiscent of her taunting voice. I pulled into the driveway and we all let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks for driving," Mother said as she calmly placed her hand on my knee. "I could tell it wasn't easy." It wasn't, and not because of father but of the girl. I started thinking that maybe she was a blessing, a distraction from father's death? I opened the door to the house and we all nearly ran to our respective rooms. When I entered mine, I locked the door and sat on my bed. A bulge had formed in my pants. The tip of my penis was rubbing against my cold zipper. I lost consciousness for a minute and came back to reality with my pants down and my hand moving at rapid speed. Within seconds I was covered in a warm secretion. I sat, panting for a few, thinking of why I formed this new tendency. It must have been a form of grieving, that's the only explanation I could come up with. In my seventeen years of life I've never experienced this, on this sort of level. It's never been so frequent. A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. It was mother.

"Are you busy?" She asked, looking behind me like some sort of private investigator.

"No. I was just reading."

"I don't see a book."

"It's under my pillow." That was the only response I could muster.

"Okay. May I talk with you downstairs, please?" Her voice carried a tone of sincerity, one I couldn't deny.

"Yes, of course. I'll be down there in a few."

"I'll be in my chair." Her chair was situated next to father's chair. This was a huge step for mother, who hadn't stepped foot near her chair since his death. Nobody was very close to mother. For some reason the tone in her voice compelled me to sit with her. I walked down the steps and through the dining area to the living room where she sat complacent, gazing out the window into darkness.

"Please, have a seat in Father's chair." She said, still staring out the window.

"Are you sure, Mother?"

"I insist." I timidly sat in his chair, adjusting positions to find an appropriate level of comfort. After three or four awkward tries, I finally found my niche. I noticed there was two cups on the table in between the chairs. One was filled with tea and the other with cocoa. Father always drank cocoa in his chair.

"Is this cocoa for me?"

"Only if you'll drink it, but that's your decision." I took the cup and slowly raised it to my face. The steam heated me instantly and the sweet smell of chocolate tattooed my nostrils. I wanted to savor these sensations without disruption, so without taking a sip I set the mug back down. "Your father used to do the same."

"Excuse me?"

"Before drinking, he would raise it to his face and absorb it. You just did the same thing. You're much like your father." I never knew this. When mother and father would drink from their mugs, we stayed out of the living room. They always seemed so peaceful and we never wanted to ruin their moment. They never asked us for privacy, we just felt it necessary to grant it to them. "How come you never joined us?"

"We just felt-"

"We?"

"The twins and I-"

"I didn't ask about the twins. I asked about you." Mother still gazed out the window.

"Ok. Well, because I was afraid to bother you. You guys always seemed so peaceful and I never wanted to burden or interrupt your privacy."

"You never would have. We were always at peace, but you never would have burdened us."

"Thank you. Why didn't you ever ask me to join?"

"Because we didn't want you to feel pressured."

"I wouldn't have."

"Thank you. Do you know how your father and I met?"

"Not exactly." I really didn't. They had both subtly mentioned a place in New Jersey, but never divulged any details. And of course, we never took it upon ourselves to ask.

"One day, before I pass, I will tell you."

"Ok." We sat in silence. I raised my mug to my face and consumed the cocoa. It was delicious. Mother looked at me and smiled. "Are you feeling ok, mother?"

"I'm feeling like I should. Like a woman who has lost the love of her life. Who is now the laughing stock of the town, the town she once garnered respect and loyalty. But a town that also consumed and tore her apart from a family she worked so hard to create. I feel like a woman who lost her husband- a man that filled a void in her heart. And now the void is back and larger than before. Nothing can fill that void. I feel like a woman who regrets not knowing her kids and doesn't have the time to make up for it. Like a woman who isn't strong enough to stand on her own two feet anymore, a woman who for the first time looked into a mirror and noticed she lived her whole life not for herself, but for others. When the face is devoid of emotion and cannot even pretend to smile, life doesn't seem worth living anymore."

I looked at mother, my hand was now trembling. She sat calm, still staring out the window.

"Mother, I'm sorry."
"No. Don't be. I'm sorry. Sorry for not trying harder and sorry for making a scene earlier." Mother reached into a bag beside her and took out a box of Good N' Plenty. "But I'm not sorry for this." She looked at me while sticking a few pieces of candy in her mouth, chewing slowly and contently. Her eyes brightened and I could see happiness start to form. "This is the closest thing that fills the void." I couldn't retort. I couldn't say, 'well, what about your children?' because it was no secret that none of us were close. This meeting was a feeble attempt, but we both knew it was too late, all she had left were those black licorice flavored candy and all I had was a dark secret.

"You know the twins aren't capable of taking over." She spoke seriously, taking small sips of her tea.

"I know."

"They could barely hold me up today."

"Mother, you were in bad shape."

"Yes, but you held me on your own."

"I know. I did."

"And that's how I knew." Mother smiled big and rose from her chair. She kissed me on the cheek and turned towards the dining room.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." That was the first time she called me that.

"Goodnight, mother." She retired to her room. I sat in father's chair and drank my cocoa. I sat in his chair until I was positive everyone had gone to sleep, and then, like it was a disease, I grieved. I grieved in father's chair and it had never felt so comfortable or so right.  

            I awoke in my bed unsure of how I got there. The room was very still, circulating an abnormal quietness. Something wasn’t right. I felt uneasy. Usually mother would have woken me up for breakfast, shouting at me to take a shower or I’d smell like scum, “Like the scum underneath the sink!” She would repeat in the morning like it was written on a queue card. But today she wasn’t my alarm. I glanced at the clock and it was noon. Was it a weekend? No, it was Friday. I plopped my head back down on the pillow, scared to leave my room. I almost didn’t want to know why she hadn’t awoken me for fear of the worst; another funeral. As I stared up at the ceiling, subtly glancing at the “Don’t Cheetah Test” poster that hung just above my bed, a startling knock broke my concentration. It wasn’t mother’s knock.

            The door opened and there stood my sister. “Yeah, come on in Minerva.”

            “It’s Magdalena.”

            “Oh, sorry. What’s going on?”

            “Something is wrong.”

            “I know. Well, I don’t know for sure, but I guessed that it was.”

            “Ew!” Magdalena suddenly looked away.

            “What?”

            “Your…your thing! Put it away!” I looked down to see my penis fully erect under my blanket. The blankets now formed a pyramid that covered my junk. Embarrassed, I quickly turned on my side.

            “Sorry, I just can’t help it these days.”

            “Whatever, I don’t need to know, just put some clothes on and come to the kitchen. We’re all there. Mother needs our help.” She slammed the door but not before she let out one more groan of disgust. I positioned myself upright. Before I got out of bed I noticed my hands once again on my penis. Could this be adolescence? Yes, I tried convincing myself. But that already came when I was fourteen and I hadn’t ever masturbated as much since then, until now. I stroked for a minute but my penis became soft and cowered away. I shrugged it off and got dressed.

            I was startled by the sight at the kitchen table. Magdelena and Minerva were staring at mother who was eating a large bowl of Good N’ Plenty. She didn’t even notice my presence and just kept eating, slowly crunching the licorice candy between her teeth. Her eyes were heavy with dark circles underneath and fixated on the spoon. Every bite seemed like therapy. I sat down and joined my sisters in the staring match. I grabbed a box of cereal on the table and started eating from the box. This used to drive my mother mad, but now had no effect. She was so complacent, like she wasn’t even there. My sisters started to cry. Mother still didn’t flinch.

            “Ok, this has gone too far,” I screeched, pushing the chair out from behind me. “Mother, what is going on? You have to give up the Good N’ Plenty. You didn’t wake us up today for the first time in forever!” Mother sharpened her gaze at me as if she was zoning in on a pimple. Time seemed to stop in that moment. Then she looked back down at her bowl and shoved the spoon back in her mouth, crunching more vigorous and determined than before.

“Mother,” I shouted, startling everyone including myself, except for mother. I grabbed her bowl and threw it across the room. The porcelain shattered and the candy scattered across the floor. My sisters put their hands over their eyes, afraid of what was to come. Mother just stared at the table cloth and a lonely tear fell from her eye.

“Get ready and meet me back here. We’re all going for a drive today.” Mother spoke void of emotion.

“What about school?” Magdelena pleaded, being an overachieving bookworm.

“School can wait. Now go.”

We all dispersed. I couldn’t help wonder where we were going. Another thought loomed in the back of my mind. It was about the girl. I didn’t want to miss my meeting with her, but mother needed us more than anything. I had the feeling she wouldn’t be around much longer.

            We dressed and found mother still in the same spot. The keys rested on the table and she looked at me. I knew this meant I was going to drive. She nodded and I grabbed the keys. We formed a single file line and silently left the house in shambles. I was first, mother behind me, and the twins nervously followed. Our heads hung low, all that was missing were shackles to keep us from running. No matter how much we all wanted to escape the moment, we knew it would end up haunting us either way. We piled in the station wagon. I started the engine when all the heavy metal doors slammed against its frame.

“Where to?” I asked, awaiting directions.

“Drive to the highway,” she spoke, “We’re going to New Jersey.” I looked in the rear view mirror and noticed a perplexed look on my sister’s faces. They had no idea that our history lie there.

            There was silence for the first ten minutes, and then mother rolled down her window and inhaled a large breath of the musty air. She rolled her window back up and prepared as though she was giving a speech. “I’m going to tell you all a story. It may or may not make sense, either way it’s your duties to make sense of it.” She paused. I glanced in the rear view mirror and again noticed my sister’s perplexed facial expressions. My mother continued on with her story. “When I was eighteen, my life was stagnant. I was always the good girl, the quiet one who went unnoticed. I, like you, had two sisters who were the pride of the family.” Mother looked at me and our eyes met. It was as if she was relaying an underlying message through our stare. “I was sick of being forgotten, of being avoided. My parents didn’t give enough attention to kick me out at eighteen, or make sure I was going to the appropriate college. They never even asked what my future plans were. They just let me be. From the time I was six years old I was eating heavy doses of candy. Good N Plenty were my favorite because they were hard to chew, and with every crunch between my teeth it felt therapeutic; like all my aggressions were assaulted on these little licorice candies. My parents never noticed until my teeth started falling out and then they had no choice but take me to the dentist. They replaced my teeth, but never gave attention to the problem; the addiction. By eighteen I had a full set of fake teeth. It was their remedy, instead of fixing things, they just replaced them. That’s how I felt about my two younger sisters. They were replacements.”

            By this point we were on the highway headed towards New Jersey. It was a pretty straight drive so I didn’t inquire directions. “Something happened, however, when I was eighteen. This much you all know; my father passed away from a heart attack.” We did all know this. We heard subtle stories about grandfather, a war veteran who was mostly quiet due to our grandmother’s flamboyant nature. “I know you all don’t know much about your grandfather, but he was a very generous and patient man. While he may have neglected me, he really had no choice. It was my mother who held the power, the one who neglected and shunned me. This may give you a bit of insight into the way I’ve parented, or tried and failed. I never had an ideal role model, but that’s neither here nor there. If there’s one thing we’ve all learned over the past month is that we can’t make excuses for our behavior, now can we?” I felt mother’s peripherals looking at me. I slowly shook my head and looked out the window. “My father may have committed suicide. There was a short investigation but they ruled it a heart attack. Not only was I miserable, but my father was too. I was the only one who saw it. At night he would disappear into his office and wouldn’t return. I never put two and two together and my mother was always great at hiding his flaws. Her image had to be flawless. So instead of getting him help, she let him waste away in his tiny room. I think it was drugs, pills maybe. No one really knows, but his heart stopped and he died too soon. He was my only hope. My savior had killed himself, and that’s when I knew it was time to flee.” I looked back to my sisters, not ever having to deal with much adversity, they were shocked.  

“Take this exit,” mother said sternly. I drifted off the seemingly empty highway into a commercial zone where construction had been put on hold. It seemed as time was on hold. Like the world abandoned itself just for us. “My father’s funeral would be my final good riddance. I never wanted to see my family again, but I felt it necessary to pay my absent father that much respect. I was eating good and plenty’s and keeping to myself. No one really noticed me anyway except for a mysterious fellow. He was actually at another funeral but wondered off. He thought he was pretty sly, I could tell by his confidence. I followed him into the trees where I caught him undressing.” My face started to blush and the heat from my sister’s embarrassment rose. I rolled down the window and mother screamed, “Roll it up! I’m telling a story.” The window quickly came back up. “This mysterious man was your father. I met him at a funeral, one of which my father and his father were both being buried. This was the start of our trust for each other. We told dark secret after secret and quickly fell in love. I knew that I’d be running away and wasn’t sure where, so I had him meet me at the graveyard the next night.” This story seemed all too familiar. Before I could make any correlation we drove up to a graveyard. “This is where your father and I met. There is where my life started.” We parked and all exited the car. My sisters were trembling with fear and anxiousness. We were all uneasy. We weren’t sure what was coming next, but we knew it wasn’t good.

            “How come father wasn’t buried here?” I hesitantly asked.

            “Because he hated his father more than I did mine.” I didn’t ask why. There was no reason. Father was dead and buried his secrets with him for a reason.

            “When you met, why was he undressing?” My sisters gawked at the question and hit my shoulder, pleading me to stop prying. Mother had no problem with the question.

            “He was going to masturbate.” My face turned slightly pale. In that moment I realized I was more like my father than I ever knew. We walked to a burrow of trees and a light led us to complete darkness. Mother’s words, ‘This is where my life began,’ kept replaying in my head. Something about that conundrum was really intriguing and compelling; the fact that life could begin with death. We entered the darkness into a very small space meant for two people at the most. Mother waved my sisters off and it was the two of us.

            “I know that you’re going to flee and I don’t blame you. You don’t have to take care of your sisters. I never did with mine.” I had met my aunts before, but there wasn’t a real family connection. “They will lead their own lives and be perfectly fine. You on the other hand must carry on our legacy.”

            “Legacy of what?” Just then mother took out a box of Good N’ Plenty. She put one in her mouth, the cracking between her teeth echoed in the burrow of whiskery branches. I noticed the candies looked different. It could have been the light, or lack thereof, but they were only one color, not the normal black and pink. “You will see. You already have. I know I haven’t said this much, but I love you.” Just then mother collapsed. Her body was lifeless and I knew that she was dead. I stood there for a moment starring at her corpse. For some reason all I could think about was the girl. I looked at my watch and realized I had to meet her soon, time was running out. I walked out of the burrow and my sisters were looking at me inquisitively. I looked down to the ground hoping that what mother said was right. I didn’t want the burden of taking care of my sisters, but I entrusted mother’s plan. I was convinced that this plan wasn’t just a selfish act of suicide, but thoroughly devised.

            “Where’s mother?” Magdalena barked.

            “She’s still in there.” I replied, still not able to make eye contact.

            “Well, is she coming out?” Minerva, clearly irritated, asked.

            “No. She wants us to leave her here.” My two sisters were dumbfounded, and as smart as they were, didn’t think to question me. “She wants me to drive you two home. She’ll take a bus, she just needs to grieve.” I figured mother would appreciate this gesture. She needed peace and my sisters offered nothing of that nature. We got in the car and drove home in silence. When we entered the house it felt like this would be my last. This wasn’t my home anymore. I called the police and gave them an anonymous tip. The sisters would hear about when I was gone, but they wouldn’t know the circumstances. It was better for everyone this way.

            I ran to the cemetery hoping not to miss the girl, the full moon shone bright. I sat at my father’s grave appreciating his tombstone for the first time since his death. I never felt so close to my father until now, until he actually passed away. Sometimes we reveal the most about ourselves when we’re dead, there’s no more disguise. A tear fell from eye and made its way slowly down my cheek and then I heard her.

“You’re that happy to see me, huh?” I looked up and there she stood about five feet from the grave eating a box of Good N Plenty.

            “Here I am. So are you going to tell me your name now?”

            “Yeah sure, but first I have something to show you.” She offered her hand and I took it without hesitation. It felt perfect. We walked across the yard to a burrow of Oak trees, the same ones I had previously masturbated in.

            “Is this a joke? I’ve already been here.”

            “I know. This is where we first met.” This began to seem eerily familiar. She led me into the darkness and began to unbutton my pants. She kissed me neck and I stood in shock.

            “Are you sure this is right?”

            “I’m positive. And by the way, my name is Penny.” My jaw dropped along with my pants. Penny is what everyone called my mother.

            “My name is Nick. Nick Jr.”

            “I know,” she exclaimed. I could feel a smile form as she kissed my neck. Everything in that moment felt perfect. This was how my mother and father met, two souls who were indelibly in love. Their sacrifice led me to this, it was all making sense. 

"So your father died, too?" I felt her head lower towards my chest. She sheepishly nodded her head. "But it's ok," she continued, raising her head back up to my neck. “And don’t worry your secret is safe with me.” A box of Good N Plenty fell to the ground and I ejaculated in her hand.

            We exited the burrow of Oak trees and held hands under the neon moon. The sound of silence was broken by a frenzy of sirens, undoubtedly headed to my house where my two sisters were probably shattered by the news. My mother’s words offered condolence and I knew that they’d eventually be fine. I was never very close to the twins, but that doesn’t completely expel my love or concern for them. I buried my head in Penny’s ragged, curly blonde hair and inhaled a deep breath. Her scent filled me with wild illusions of my future, one that would be spent with her for a long time. We stood there in each other’s arms waiting for the world to catch up with us. In this moment I fully understood my parents. There was no more resentment towards my dramatic mother, or my secretive father. I glanced over at his grave and noticed a sign next to it reading ‘reserved.’ I knew what it was for, it was for our legacy.     

At age 29 I almost died AND received my first tie.
Go figure.

The Dark Night

The Dark Night

 I’m not sure if it was the excitement of the sheer thrill that what I was doing was wrong, but all of that disappeared in the moment. It didn’t corrupt my form, or desires, and neither did it affect hers. Who knew what her position was? I just met this girl a meager forty minutes ago and now she was passionately riding my cock in the front seat of my 4-runner. The leather seat squeaking with every motion and ambulation; our bodies perfectly synchronized to sex. I didn’t think about the act I was committing, instead attentively engaging the task at hand. When I felt the thick residue that clung to my achingly erect penis, the truth evaporated, just like the love I deserted at home. While her quaint and perfect breasts nestled in and out of my thirsty mouth, adultery selfishly sneaked out the back door. Her subtle moans, “Oh God…Oh yes,” disrupted the footsteps of promiscuity that yearned to remind me of my former self. As I spread her luscious ass cheeks, opening the crease of her dripping wet pussy, my cock throbbed and thwarted for her; into her. We were unaware of name and identity, but yet we were silently bestowing every bit of each other we could escape with.

It may have been the mystery that vehemently heightened this tryst. In any case, there was no need for clarification. People suppose that passion is acquired through time: A blossoming of two souls whom fate aligned. That may be correct, but in my experience passion can also exist through spontaneity- the desire for a casual encounter of instant gratification. Passion can breathe between two people drinking warm Budweiser who, forty minutes ago, were complete strangers, and with one simple question turned brevity into a series of blissful orgasms. While the girl came, now screaming and gasping into my ear, I never thought twice about the meaning of this rendezvous. I tickled the deep thresholds of her vagina, lunging harder with each moan and it never occurred to me that this was just sex. When she exalted the words “oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” in my mind it wasn’t just another lay. But it wasn’t anything more either. When it was my turn I held her back; teased her. She insistently grabbed my cock like a dangling sausage and crammed it into her mouth, sucking on its tip and slurping up the residue that she previously released. The thick milky white secretion she suppurated vanished. Our consecration could have led Catholicism into a lascivious riot, and while her lips lusciously massaged my cock, my fingers protruded the moist, viscous walls of her pussy.

Thick white cum nestled my fingers as I licked them clean. We turned into sexual gluttons, devouring advantageously every last bit of flavor. This girl could have been a harlot- could have had a pimp. She could have been engaged, married, or a housewife. I was unfaithful. Why would she be any different? I could have been plagued with blight; a rapist or a murderer. We met through an ordained accident and committed a voracious affair. And why did I glean her? She was almost perfect in every sense of the way, but there was more. It wasn’t all contributed to her physical appearance- her short stature, perky breasts and voluptuous ass, or her dirty blonde hair that ultimately reflected her personality and immoral values; or our destruction and inability to maintain self control. She was almost perfect and the instance that my paint splattered her pretty picture, our frame shone bright with exquisiteness. Together our chemistry created a formula perfected for gratuitous desire. In every evil casts the inevitable murky glow of beauty. It may be unwanted, or unwarranted. But when it appears, it is undeniable.

This avocation began somewhat formal. Although, the first stare executed by our pairs of eyes formulated the future. Her blue eyes met mine. My pale grey’s met hers. Together they were indelible. Our hands shook and our mouths mechanically set into motion, but only the silence could be heard. Nothing really mattered until the crucial question was posed. A six pack of warm beers now defeated the edge and my unconscious led us into a journey of the unattainable state of “realism.” “So do you want to fuck me?” I asked. An expression of shock captivated her face. “Excuse me?” “Do you want to fuck me? It’s a simply question really.” “Umm. I don’t really know what to say? I’ve never really been asked that so bluntly.” In some cases bluntness is anything but sexy. But in this case, it was not only sexily intrusive, but honestly presumptuous- instilling my confidence in the moistened soil of her impressionable mind. Women can’t deny their attractiveness to confidence, even if it’s deemed arrogant. “Why else did you really think we were meeting? And besides, people most often decide instantly whether or not they would fuck someone by their first impression. I knew that I would fuck you, and I’m pretty sure you’d fuck me.” Was I wrong? Not even the slightest, but it is a woman’s obligation to abstain a man’s desires for fear of judgment. But we both knew that any sort of scrutiny towards one another would just be naive and crass.

Once we were in agreement, nothing else would have mattered. We would have simply been two beings without identity, dining on whatever fates menu had to offer. “Well…how about we just make out first.” There was no more need for dialogue; the second our lips met a spark spontaneously combusted us into each other. We no longer existed as separate entities. We turned into sex. Her fellatio was anything but fallacious. It was obvious that all self doubt was eradicated. I pushed her over to the passenger seat. She sat like a blooming tulip. Her legs enticed me, slowly blossoming and inviting my cock- dripping with her saliva and desire. I felt villainous as I crept toward the gap between her limbs. My vision blurred and reverted through the fogged up window of the passenger door. This delusion obstructed me from reality. When my cock infiltrated her pussy, luminosity created a fantastical fairy tale in which we were writing. And then the grasp of my skin jolted me back into the non-fiction. The harder she scratched my back, the faster I shoveled my penis inside of her. She slyly snaked her hands around my shoulders and neck, down to my pectorals, where she rubbed and moaned. Faster and faster I protruded her. I violated her and pulled her hair. And then I pollinated her. The aftermath was bittersweet. Neither of us could really put into words what just happened; the darkness of the night and the desolation of our location slowly begun to shelve us back into reality. There was really no need for conversation and so I took her home and we never spoke another word, or shared the sweat of each other again.

 Passion was attainable because we both agreed upon the circumstances. What we did was not necessarily right. Did I feel guilt during my drive home? Of course- for I am human- but with that said, I am also doomed with a desire for excitable and forbidden satisfaction. This occurrence does not represent a palatable experience for every one night stand, and I don’t condone this behavior. I’ve had many that were passionless and left me with nothing but a feeling of complete and utter emptiness. But in life, there are times when the stars are perfectly aligned, and the foundation of our Christian belief system actually displays the power of God’s will, whether it be evil or un-pure, it can still be beautiful and unforgettable none the less.