Ch.9) TF /k/ ed: Makes a grown girl drop; sweet cherry pop

He left around 3 AM. It was a few tense hours that he stayed, upstairs in Grandma’s old sewing room, at least for me. He took me up on my offer and borrowed my shower before stumbling to his new safe room to pass out. The fat man looked like death when he came in and slept like the dead too. At least, that’s what the CZ whined about as she slouched atop my sofa, her face contorted with a mix of irritation and displeasure as she periodically gave a disgusted sigh.

She and the AR are staying here it seems. From her unique position of being both on the couch and in the room where my neighbor slept, she could feel that he had not taken her or the AR out of the duffle bag, but that he stuffed it somewhere. She complained about the musty smell, so he likely put it in with Grandma’s old clothes and assorted knickknacks. He said he had to travel light, travel inconspicuously, so it made sense to me that he didn’t want to take the rifle. It didn’t make much sense not to take the CZ; he didn’t have the displeasure of her whimsical company like I did. Whatever the case, this was their new home and I didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

I stood watch downstairs until he woke up. The two newcomers weren’t much for conversation at first and Sylvie kept a rigid vigil on the two. This gave me time to cool down and think over what I had just done. I let someone I barely knew into my house, took his side on a blood feud with some random gang, and promised to keep him safe after he allahu ackbared his house to kill some more gang bangers. Any normal person would have kicked him to the curb. So why didn’t I?

Because I have a terminal case of stupid. And in all likelihood, so did Grandpa. I had spent all night coming to that conclusion, after I had sent all three girls to my room. At first, I tried to ignore them but I needed something to fidget with after the alcohol wore off and the stark realization that I could very quickly be meeting death wore on. That something was Sylvie. I opened her loading gate and methodically inched her cylinder from one chamber to another. Of course, I forgot that the other two girls were there much to Sylvie’s embarrassment and before long I couldn’t stomach the jeers that CZ made.

I didn’t stop though, after sending a hooting CZ, a flushed to tears Sylvie, and that smirking AR away. Mindlessly I checked and double-checked; six rounds all accounted for. Every now and then I would stop and close the gate, but fumbling fingers would inevitably return. Otherwise the bile in my stomach would threaten to rush out. The evening was quiet, painfully so. I guess that it was a blessing; I’m not sure my nerves could handle the anxiety of born of random bumps in the night.

Time passed slowly. It was only by the grace of the weight in my hand that I didn’t go mad. Turn the cylinder, check the chamber. Turn again, check again. Turn and check, turn and check, keep going until the pit in my stomach goes away. Think about how much of an idiot I am, about how few rounds I have, anything but that icy claw gripping my heart. Put it down and compose myself; pick it up and check again. Turn and check.

When I heard the creaking of the stairs, for a moment I didn’t know if it was the fat man coming to relieve me of my watch or someone coming to kill me.

For a moment, I didn’t care. Anything to end this maddening wait.

It was the fat man. He plodded down the stairs, looking for all the world like the rest didn’t even touch him. He still had sunken jowls and dark, raccoon-like bags. But his eyes were clear now, no longer clouded with fear or cheap booze. He thanked me almost sheepishly and before I knew it he was gone. He and his 1911 disappeared as the dark night enveloped them and finally that knot in my gut unraveled. I locked the door behind him and with heavy eye-lids I marched up to my bed, Sylvie hanging limply in my hand. I got to my bedroom door and pushed it open.

I did expect to see Sylvie lying on the bed. I didn’t expect to see her so obviously in a compromised state. Her knees were pulled together and one hand clutched at her dress conspicuously in front of her groin. She was biting her other hand, as if trying to endure some sort of pleasant torture. She looked overheated; her face was flushed despite her attempts to cool down by undoing some of her clothing. It would have been a sight for sore eyes, but I just wanted to sleep. Only one thing stopped me.

That goddamned CZ was on MY side of the bed. She was kicking her feet, turning her head erratically like an over stimulated puppy in a new house. It was a surprise she didn’t get whiplash, the way she quickly turned her attention from one end of the room to the other. Still, she was in my way of some much needed beauty sleep. With a tired nod, I gestured for her to get out, a gesture that was lost on her judging how her beaming smile didn’t fade one iota. She kept right on kicking her feet, humming some jaunty tune that one she knew. I turn my attention to the woman sitting rather demurely at my desk, facing her chair towards my bed.  Her deep crimson eyes no longer glared with wicked malevolence; the corners of her eyes instead had an almost peaceful hint of mischievousness to them. Still, it was only because I was dead tired that I had the courage to finally speak to her.

“Hey, can you handle your roommate for me? I really need some sleep.”

A malicious smile answered me. I could tell she had no intention of helping. Still, somehow that was enough to intrigue the boisterous girl I was referring to. With a hop and a skip she made her way to me with expected speed. Then, with an exaggeration worthy of an Academy Award, she wrapped her arms around herself and shied away from me.

“Huuuh? You want to handle me? Ahhhhh, noooooo… I’m going to be raped. This man I just met is going to make a sloppy mess of me just like his wifey. Hey, mister, I know I said I’d be yours for the night, but you can’t be too forceful with girls like that, you know?” Her voice acting needed work.

God, I wanted to wipe that Cheshire smile off her face with the back of my hand. Still, I figured the course of wisdom would be to let it go. I side-stepped her as she continued to play the part of a pitiful heroine at the mercy of a brutish man, and I plopped myself face first into the bed. I closed my eyes and soon all was black.



At least, it should have been. Until the CZ shook me awake, I had been deeply passed out. Now I’m awake and I’m deeply pissed off. With a groan I pull my phone from out of my pocket and check the time; only 30 minutes have gone.

“The fuck you want?” I’m honestly impressed out how that came out. I’d give it a 10 out of 10 for total ‘you done fucked up’ feeling. Seriously girl, don’t interrupt a man’s sleep.

“Hey, where you keep the booze?” Damn CZ doesn’t care. Her smile is even more radiant than before, as if she just won the lottery.  “I gotta celebrate.”

“Huh, the hell you talking about? Can you even drink? What the hell do you have to  celebrate, anyways?” I lay back down in bed and cover my eyes with my right arm; Sylvie has roused up and pulls my left arm into her embrace as usual. I can feel a tiny prickling sensation in the back of my head. I ignore it as the energetic girl with the strange eyes rattles off some nonsense.

“…a new place to live, I finally met a human I can talk to, I have a roommate who I can tease unlike that scary lady right there, the chunky monkey is going to die pretty soon, I have my own room…”

I get a third wind.

“He’s going to die? He just left right now, there’s no way they could have…”

“Haaaah?” She gives me an impossibly smug look, one eyebrow raised and a lopsided grin while leaning into to me as if she couldn’t hear what I said for how stupid it was. “My old owner’s friends had hours to kill while you were playing security guard. I know they’re going to be bringing the big guns for this. Dogs too. One of them sniffers so they can track him down.” She pauses for a moment, and I seem a glimmer of pain in those blue and green eyes. Then the smile comes back, as if it never left. “It was one of his ideas, track down the fat man like a rabbit. It’s only fair that darling’s plan takes him out.”

Without thinking I get up out of bed. I hadn’t changed yet, so I’m still in my jeans and shirt. Sylvie is still in my holster and my holster is still on my hip. I rush to the closet and grab a jacket. A thick, warm one. I pat my pocket and feel the loose rounds still there. I head for the door.

“Master, wait!” Sylvie, who somehow got out of bed and grabbed a hold of me without me seeing, pulls me back. “It’s far too dangerous. I cannot and will not permit you to head off into your doom for that man.”

“Sylvie, listen. I have to…”

“No! I won’t let you! That man made his own choices and he will pay for them. You’ve done far more than enough for him. Far more than he deserves. You gain nothing from helping him and I lose everything if you do! I forbid it. Master, I forbid it!” She pulls me with as much force as she can muster. And while I let her pull on me, I think.

She’s right. I would be outnumbered. Outgunned. Even if I can avoid being found by them, I have no idea where he is, no way to avoid catching a bullet if he panics and shoots me if I even do find him. Besides, he’s a middle-aged loser and I have my whole life ahead of me and a woman that loves me even if she’s really a gun. I slowly stop resisting and she pulls me closer and closer back to the bed. She smiles gently, pulling me to safety.

I’m tired. Dead tired. I already stuck my neck out for him, risked having my house broken into and being murdered to give him time to rest. Haven’t I done enough? Why should I save his hide, right this wrong? Who will miss him, considering that I was the only person he could rely on and I only had met him once before. Not only that, he has history with that gang; I don’t. Even if they have a grudge against me cause of my grandpa…

I pull back a moment and her smile freezes. She pulls, and I barely follow but only due to her desperation. I have people to take care of, not just Sylvie. I have my family, cousins and aunts and uncles and parents and… I can’t just abandon them, let them mourn for me just over this man. If I do this, I’m dead. Dead and done, like grandpa…

I pull back my arm, fully resisting now. I can’t even look at Sylvie; her white-knuckled grip  and her petrified face weaken my resolve, bringing me shame. Fuck. I’m doing this, aren’t I? This is stupid. Just because grandpa saved him doesn’t mean I have to. Everything inside me screams; my reason, my fears, my hopes and dreams. I can feel every voice inside me beg for me to give up.

All except one.

“He saw something in him. Saw enough good to save him. “I swallow the bile and the fear that bubble up from my gut. “I’m not even half the man my grandpa was, but I’m not going to just let him die. Not if I can do anything about it.” It sounded a bit hollow, even to me. I barely knew my grandfather and I know even less about the fat man, the man whose name I just realized I don’t even know. I know nothing about them, about why I should intervene, or even how to go about it. Deep inside though I just know that I’ll lose something forever if I hold back now.

“Please… Master please don’t. Just let him go.” Tears well up in Sylvie’s deep blue eyes and she sobs, breaking my heart. “…you… I love you…please…”

“Sylvie, I…” I need her. In more ways than one, I need her to be by my side. Unarmed, I’d be rushing to my grave, but there’s more to that. If I’m going to do this… scratch that, if I’m going to do this and survive I’ll need some supernatural advantage. Someone who can scout the area and not be seen or heard. Someone with enough speed to be called the fastest gun in the west. Someone who can guide me through that deadly dance. “Sylvie, please…” I reach out to her, but she pulls away from me.

“NO! NO! I refuse to go and watch you die!” She’s in hysterics and I don’t have time to let her calm down on her own. I hate myself for this but… “If you going to go kill yourself for that awful man, then don’t dr-MMPH”

I feel her body stiffen in surprise, then slowly the resistance ebbs out of her. My internal scientist takes notes: when Sylvie is upset, a deep kiss will make her more amenable to further persuasion. Of course, that’s a small thought process. Most of my brain power goes to my senses; I greedily pull her body close to mine and every nerve in my hand is focused on the feeling of her soft backside, my tongue relishes her particular taste of rose honey, her womanly scent fills me with desire, I feel and taste and smell and sense everything about her. Other senses I try to ignore, like the sound of whistling coming from the crazy girl in the waitress outfit.

I hesitantly pull back, and let her go. She stumbles back, flushed and almost sheepish, but before she can regain her sense I push the attack.

“Sylvie, this is an order. We’re going to save him. Come with me.”

Her heaving chest slows down and turns back towards the cackling CZ. I can see gears spinning at top speed in her mind. She comes to a conclusion quick, and only hesitates a moment before she gathers her nerve.

“Take her instead. The both of them.  You’ll be safer with them. I mean…” Her eyes trace the floor; I can see the self-loathing in her downcast face. “I know I’m just a toy, a copy of a useless relic.” Turning away from me, she gathers herself before addressing the two who have been the peanut gallery to this. “I beg of you, please keep him safe. I…”

“It’s not… you’re not…” I hate myself, but I can’t say anything. Despite how much I want to keep my promise to her, I know that it means nothing if I die doing so. My life or my word to her, which is more important? The answer is easy and the both of us know it. I can only grit my teeth and accept it.

“Well, this is kinda awkward.” The CZ scratches the back of her neck, sheepishly smiling. “I was planning on being a homewrecker, but to be begged to be with your man before you is sorta… are you a cuckold or a masochist?” Sylvie stiffens while still bowing towards the flippant girl, but holds her tongue. The CZ turns towards me. “Now baby, don’t get me wrong. I’d love to steal you away and all that, maybe take you out back on a haystack and let you be my master for two whole minutes, but you’re on your own tonight. I like you and all, but if it came down to you and porky living or dying, I choose him dying any day. So, ta ta. Try not to come back with any extra holes, you hear me?” And with that, she ignores me, humming that tune she seems to love.

Sylvie tries to cajole her, persuade her, but I ignore it. The AR has been staring at me for a while now. She doesn’t seem to be in any mood to help either. Still, I ask.

“And what abo-“

“No.”

Huh, that sweetly feminine voice was unexpected. I half thought she would sound like carnage and slaughter, not a light yet husky monotone. I can hear Sylvie now threatening the girl who is actively ignoring her. Thinking about it, even if they refused to go it’s not like they can stop me from taking their gun forms and… no, Sylvie is able to grab me. They can still physically stop me. Still, their refusal somehow lightens my heart; I’m probably going to die, but at least I can keep that promise. Maybe the reality of the situation hasn’t settled in yet, but before the fear can paralyze me I start moving.

In the distance, I hear a dog bark before a muffled gunshot splits the night. It’s somewhat far off, but I can still feel my blood run cold. I don’t have time to waste.

“Sylvie, let’s go.” I don my jacket and zip it up. Silence reigns. Then, a staccato of footsteps rings out. Neither tears nor fears mark her face anymore. Only a will, stronger than any I had seen before, in her eyes shines as she gallantly comes to my side. Without a word, she heads out the door towards the stairs and I follow. As we make our way down, just before we head out to destiny I hear a voice whine like that of a grounded schoolgirl.

“At least let him suffer a bit first.”



The cold air nips at my cheeks as I rush headlong into the small forest. Sylvie has already gone ahead of me; my unique senses give her the chance to warn me of what lies ahead without giving away my position. At least, without “her” giving it away. I plod through the wild, stealth close to forgotten. If all I had heard was just the one shot, I might have given him up for dead. Instead the air is occasionally punctuated by sonic booms; a sign of life.

My senses run wild, eyes and ears strain to the limit to catch every potential detail, every shadow an enemy, every sound a warning. I’m a dead man if I miss Sylvie’s voice, so despite burning lungs I try to keep my breathing to a minimum.  In a moment I hear a voice shouting from far away, indiscernible. I turn my head to hear it and suddenly the world spins.

Next thing I know, I’m face first into the ground. Pain. A blinding pain stabs at my forehead and I can’t even stop myself from groaning as I rub at the warm, wet spot between my eyes. Further off, another gunshot pierces the silence and that same voice cries out, but the pain clouds my thinking. I wipe away the blood ebbing from the wound and I look towards my feet. I can’t help but grimace at the sheer stupidity of it.

I tripped on a fucking root. I tripped and cut my head on some small rock I fell on. I groan as I get up, slowly making sure no part of me is seriously hurt. My foot is a bit sore, but luckily not sprained. Holy shit, the thing that drew first blood wasn’t a gang banger or a bloodhound, but a fucking rock. What is this, amateur hour? The blood trickles down my face, threatening to blind me. I stop and try to rip a piece of cloth off my shirt, make a makeshift bandage or something, when I hear the voice again.

“Master! Over here! Hurry!”

I wipe the blood with my forearm and stumble on my first few steps. Once I regained my balance enough, I picked up the pace. More time looking down, less time looking around. I didn’t have time to waste on picking the perfect path, but the aching told me another injury from carelessness could very well end me before I even met one of those killers. No sleep, adrenaline crash so close I can feel it ready to grab me by the balls; I’m running on fumes so I follow Sylvie’s voice, cautiously making my way while avoiding rustling the underbrush. I’m stalking my target, either friend or foe. And both will likely shoot me before I find out which one it is.

I pass through the trees, blessing and cursing the light from the moon. A cloudless sky made navigation easier, but also made me vulnerable. Quickly creeping from the cover of one tree to another, I spot a figure clad in crimson crouching low next to a resting man. The man had oddly enough left a headlamp on while he slept; the light let me see that this wasn’t the man I was looking for. He is gaunt, unhealthily skinny. Wrinkled skin and short cut hair also differed from the smoother, more hairy fat neighbor. His dress was also fairly unkempt; a dark brown jacket with many frays and holes, jeans that were caked with grime. I didn’t know him. An enemy.

I pull Sylvie out of her holster. Drawn, I point her at the sleeping man. Oddly peaceful, his wide open eyes gaze into nothing. Sylvie notices what I’m doing and shakes her head. Only then do I realize.

It’s a corpse.

I choke on my own gasp. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a cadaver; it’s the first time I’ve seen one so fresh. Sylvie get’s up, dusts off her knees, and returns to my side as I reholster her. She grabs me by the hand and pulls me away, but I lock eyes with the dead man.


“Shot by a .45 caliber round. Two shots to the chest. He’s still warm, so there’s a good chance…”

Sylvie hesitates as I pull my hand back. My brain runs in circles and I only feel a numbness divorced from the cold wind blowing. At least close his eyes. That’s what they do, right? Give the dead… give them some dignity. I reach out to offer him that simple gesture.

“Master, don’t. Once this is over, the police will look for fingerprints and I won’t risk yours being found. Your footprints are already a risk.” Sylvie grabbed my hand again, forcefully pulling me away from giving what last rites I could give.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” I wipe the blood from my face again. I don’t even know this man, hell I was ready to kill him just a minute ago. Now I can’t help but feel pity for him. I let Sylvie pull me away. Her eyes flash towards my wound; she gasps and mothers over it. I don’t pay attention; I focus on holding back the vomit that threatens to spew out. I thought I was tougher than this.

“I’ll have to disinfect it when we get back. Here, let me cut a piece of your shirt and…”

“Where do we go from here?” Sylvie stops and looks off deep into the woods. Another blast rips through the night accompanied by the whimper and low whine of a dog. I don’t even wince; now a dog is dead too. Fuck.  Another shot rings out, only about 900 yards away this time.

I offer a brief prayer, so brief I don’t even know what for. Protection? Salvation? Forgiveness? To whom and for what? If there is a god, he’ll know.  Ignoring her attempts at first aid, I rush towards the sounds of death. Think of grandpa. Take a life to save a life. There’s good in him, so save him and be done with it. I struggle to pace myself, to conserve strength and stealth in my desperate run.

What if there’s good in the other man too? I try to push that thought away, but it claws at me. Sylvie has already overtaken me, her focus only on the immediate surroundings. It only strikes me now after seeing her in the face of death, in all its hideous glory, that she truly isn’t human. Her eyes held no interest in the dead man beyond what information his body could tell her. She saw those wounds and spoke as if admiring the craftsmanship of a desk or a house. I thought of her as a woman, my strange little lover with a shy streak and a set of inadequacy issues to rival Time magazine. The moonlight highlights the scars that had yet to fully fade away from her skin. Not her skin, her frame.  I remember for the first time the truth. She’s a weapon. Her true form isn’t the apparition in front of me, but the revolver at my hip. That’s why she can so easily stare down a corpse; that’s what she was built to do. The bile rises up and I can taste the bitterness as I swallow it down.

Shit. Not now. After I got all fucking high and mighty, now I grow a conscience? Now, when I have to put my money where my stupid mouth is, now I realize how serious this is? How taking a life is? Why do I realize it now, when I have gone too far to turn back, fallen completely for this ridiculous farce of heroics, that I might not have the stones to kill?

I look up, focusing on the path ahead. Sylvie has gone far beyond my sight. Instead, I hear more gunshots. The sound hurts my ears. I try to shake off the ringing sound and I carry on. Thoughts that plagued me now are banished deep down inside me. Like the ringing of a church bell, the sound of battle clears my head. I feel a numbness in my gut, but I push it aside. I’ll worry about the ethics later. I’ll worry about Sylvie’s humanity later. I’m a weapon. I’ll point. I’ll shoot. Then I’ll worry.

I hear multiple voices call out close by. They meld together to make some foreign noise, something I can’t interpret. Sylvie called. Follow her voice. A lone gunshot rings out, blasting through the forest. I hear a man howl in agony. More voices, this time more distinguishable. Sylvie calling for me and another, one I don’t recognize. I keep hurrying on, as much as caution lets me.

I finally reach it. Two men lie in front of me as I lean against a tree. They didn’t notice. One is fat, the other short. The fat one is on the ground, one arm gripping his knee. He’s almost in a fetal position, his excess girth would make it an almost comical sight if it weren’t for the liquid shining in the moonlight. The liquid pooling under him. The liquid coming from him.

The short man has an arm outstretched, a gun in his hand. I can’t tell what it is for sure, but it has an overall blocky shape to it. A gun with no extra frills, nothing special to it. Just a weapon. While the fat man hisses in pain, the short man walks up closer. Now I hear his voice as clear as can be.

“…I chased you for how fucking long Frank? 19 years? Didn’t I fucking tell you? Didn’t I?” Another blast and the fat man screams again. “It didn’t have to come to this. You could have gotten out with just a beating and tuck your tail between your legs like you always did, but you just couldn’t let it go. You killed Johnny, Ed, and even Jose. Ungrateful piece of shit, you forget how Jose bailed you out when Los Santos came for you?” I could see him by moonlight; he was an old man too, as old as the fat man he hunted. Bald, with a large black mustache, he had a swarthy, weathered look born from hard years.

“You killed Sammy!” I could hardly recognize that voice, erupting with festering pain. “He never did a fucking thing to you and you all killed him! I’ll never forgive you; I’ll kill you all!” He screamed defiance as he cradled his wounds, as if he hoped that hate could kill.

“We warned him. Everybody knows the rules and he broke them. So he got a beat down. How were we supposed to-“

“He told you. He only told you and me he had a blood clot.” The fat man… no, Frank speaks in a hushed voice, seething. “You knew he would die, and you did jack shit. I always knew you hated him, I knew it. He trusted you and I lost my…” His voice finally gave way as he choked back sobs.

Then, there was silence. The only sound was that of the lonesome wind passing through the branches of the silent witnesses to the end of a long feud. The short man dropped his hand for a moment and looked down at his feet. A pregnant pause before he spoke again.

“I always liked you Frank. You might be a chickenshit pussy, but you always had my back. If you just kept to your goddamned self, I could have let this shit slide, but you had to paint a fucking target on your own forehead. Sorry Frank…” He starts raising his pistol. “When you see Sammy, tell him…”

“STOP!”

The short man’s head jerks towards me. Why, I don’t… oh fuck.

I freeze. My brain screams for me to move, but my clumsy hands stay still. I see it all. Frank’s realization. His horror. The short man’s gun moving. His eyes wide. Move. Move. Move. For the love of god, move. Life slows to a crawl and I can see every painful moment of my soon to end life.

Ah. So this is how it ends.

I can’t believe I’m going to die a vi-

“MASTER!”

A crimson figure dashes to my side; even with time slowed to a crawl I can barely see it. A familiar hand grabs my unmoving one. It springs to life and with her help I move it down to my hip. In the same motion, her other hand rests on my shoulder. She’s right in front of me, head turned, eyes focused on the man with the gun. He’s almost gotten it up, but he still hasn’t pointed it at me yet. My hand, entwined with hers, rises. Barrel forward, thumb pulling back on the hammer.

Just like in practice.

The steps come to me, as if to grant me one last dance. Time speeds back up and the man almost has me in his sights. But I don’t feel fear. Sylvie and I dance as we have practiced. One, two, three and a four, five...

God, please don’t let the blood get in my eyes just yet.

An explosion rocks my mind. Fire blinds me, then a crescendo of thunder and lightning roars against the dying of the light. I feel it with my whole body, the tremors as we finally danced the way it was meant to. A wave of pleasure assaults me, violent and loving. The clashing sound echoes in my mind and across my whole being. My mind whites out for a brief second and I feel an almost pleasurable relief as the shockwave caresses my body. Then, as suddenly as it came, it dissipated into the air and I am left alone.

I stand in silence for a minute. Finally, gravity brings the weight in my hand down. I can’t even recognize my surroundings. I remember this forest, yes. I remember the man over there. His name is Frank, I think. And the man over there, lying face down. I…

I shot him.

I should be feeling something. Guilt. Disgust. Something. But I’m numb. I fall back and wince when I feel the pain in my butt. Another fucking rock. Still, it’s something. I sit up and before I know it a svelte body embraces me in a whole-hearted tackle. She rubs her check against mine, up and down as if to imprint her face into mine. I still am riding this odd high, so I can’t tell what it is she’s saying. It’s either the mini-orgasm I just had or the looming tinnitus, but only after a few shocked moments can tell what she’s saying. Things like “I love you”, “that was amazing”, “I almost lost you”; things like that. A stray thought breaks through the cover of that pleasant, unfeeling sensation that shrouds my higher faculties.

“So, Sylvie… was it good for you too?”

She responds with a rain of kisses. The blood has started to flow down past my eyes, so I feel bad for exposing her to the mess. She doesn’t stop however, and I don’t stop her either. I relax in the glow and her ministrations until someone else brings me back to stark reality like a mother who interrupts her son’s masturbation time.

“Hey, I’m still fucking dying here asshole.”