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IfuckingREFUSE.
I feel her eyes searing into my back as I walk away. The choice Ishouldhave made all those fucking years ago.
Dee
Touch by Daughter
I toss and turn restlessly. My body thrums with excitement and heat. Heat and desire at the way his voice settled inside of me, the way he came to my rescue, even if it was a little…serial killer-ish, fuck…it was hot. And this is what’s wrong with me. I don’t work the way normal girls do. I shouldn’t be slick at the memory of him hurting someone but, damn, it was sexy as hell.
He’ssexy as hell.
I wonder what it would feel like to have his hand wrapped around my jaw instead, forcing me to look at him, while his fingers explored the slippery slopes between my legs. I slide my hand under the band of my shorts and close my eyes, pretending it’s his fingers parting my lips and sliding against my clit.It’s so fucking hot in here!I throw the covers off me and welcome the breeze I feel from the cracked window as it caresses my flushed and sensitive skin.
I imagine it’s his breath against my skin as he whispers all the sinful things he’s going to do to me in that deep, demanding voice. I moan and open my legs wider as I push a finger into my soaked pussy, imagining it’s his finger sinking in and exploring me for
the first time.
I bring my other hand down to rub my clit as I continue to finger-fuck myself, moving my hips in a slow and steady rhythm, building up to the orgasm I’ve been chasing since stepping foot in that damn bar.
His eyes.
God, his eyes. With the amount of coldness in them when he glared at me, they should have frozen me solid right where I sat on that bar stool. But that icy stare did nothing to ease my heated skin then and it’s doing nothing to ease the heat building between my legs now. If anything, the way he looked at me just added to my desire.
He looked atme.
He sawme.
Not my tits, or my ass, or anything about my body.
HE.
LOOKED.
AT.
ME.
Fuck, my heavy breathing is loud in the small apartment, my whimpers and moans are uncontrollable as they escape my mouth. No doubt the neighbors can hear every single one through these paper-thin walls and I couldn’t begin to give a single fuck.
Sinn, the guy had called him.
I’m so fucking wet, I can hear it every time I move my finger in and out of my pussy. I’m throbbing and clenching, needing more, needing my finger to be deeper and bigger. Needinghim. I add more pressure to my clit as I rub it faster and faster. My orgasm is building and it’s threating to crash into me and destroy me. It’s the first thing I’vefelt, really felt, in over a year.
“Sinn,” his name flows across my lips as the orgasm bows my back and floods through my entire body.
I jerk and shake uncontrollably with the force of it. When I finally come down, the orgasm fading, I remove my hands from between my legs. I’m about to get up, so I can clean the mess I’ve made, when I change my mind. I slip my fingers into my mouth, tasting myself, and I wonder what he would think of the way I taste? I wonder what I would taste like off his lips, his tongue… his dick. I wonder what his mouth tastes like. I wonder what his skin tastes like? I wonder what he would taste like as he came in my mouth?
I used to enjoy sex, until I didn’t, and I’m shocked to find myself thinking about it in this way now after so long of not having it. I never once missed it, until tonight. Until I reacted tohim. God, I really am so fucked up.
I shiver at the memory forcing its way through my desire, demanding to be remembered. The earlier heat seems to have been sucked right out of my body. The sweat drying on my skin is cold, and I pull the covers back over me as I turn on my side and hug myself, praying for peaceful sleep to suck me under. I don’t even know why I bother with the sentiment. Not one prayer has ever been fucking answered.
I’m sitting on the old couch, across from a blue, seventies style chair. Only a small, wooden coffee table separates the furniture in the small trailer. A man I don’t even know is sitting in the chair. A strange man is in my house and yet it’s nothing new. I’m used to my mom bringing random men and women, but mostly men, into the house. They’re her friends, I guess, but they never seem to stay around for very long and they’ve never stayed while she’s not here.
But my mom is going to be gone for another ten months. I’m still too young to understand a lot of what people say but I’m old enough to know that my mom is in jail. I understand what that means, I think. It’s a place you’re forced to go to when you’ve done something bad, and my mom seems to always be doing bad things. Drugs they say. Other kids in school tell me what their parents say, or I hear them talking about it behind my back. Despite how it sounds, I do have friends, but they’re never allowed to come over to my house. Not even when my momishere. I guess it’s because she does drugs. I don’t know much about drugs other than what they teach us in school and what they teach us is, “say no to drugs.” Did they not teach this when my mom was in school? She has to know they’re bad because she keeps being sent to the place for bad people.
This strange man, Jim I think his name is, took us down to the river to swim. I don’t really remember going but we’re sitting in the living room now, in our wet bathing suits, my sister and me. So, I guess we did go. Jim is in his bathing suit too, his underwear. My sister, who’s three years older than me, is sitting on the arm of the blue, seventies chair, and Jim is rubbing her back.
I wake from the dream fully alert and wide awake, the adrenaline of the memory pumping through my veins. I don’t even remember falling asleep, and now, I wish I hadn’t. Story of my fucking life. I haven’t had a peaceful night’s sleep in over a year so, I guess tonight should be no different.
