It cost too much to buy the puppy, but I really wanted a little dog.
Hattie said that she would give me half of the five hundred dollars and I would not have to repay her. I wondered if there was a catch. Sure there was. I found out at breakfast.
She’d help me pay for the dog as long as I agreed to name it Myron. Myron was her long dead son. Myron died during the Second World War from shrapnel to his torso. This is the year 2020 and she still grieved.
Yesterday at breakfast, Deena, my other aunt pulled me aside and told me that Hattie has dementia and thinks the war is still in progress and that Myron would come home soon.
After that I could not take the money. It would cost me too much in the long run.
Later that week I learned from the man who was selling the dog, that the dog died. It really would have been costly for Hattie as well.
John- boy wanted to taste a whore, a black whore. He arranged to capture one from the village. He pulled the sweaty shirt over his head and balled it up. He tossed it across the room. He looked down at her, black and sweet like a late summer plum, naked before him on the king sized bed in his fancy home.
The woman was naked. Her inky black skin caressed tantalizing curves. He caught his breath. Her legs were apart. Her arms tied to the bed post. He could not read her expression and lost his focus for a moment and stroked his hardened flesh. His breaths deepened. Her voice brought him back.
“Are you asleep? What’s the matter, you aint never seen a pussy?” Sultry and deliberate, she caressed his desire, and he jerked like he was hit. He lunged toward her as she arched her back and slowly wriggled one of her hands free. She cupped his head and thrust it down on the black marshmallows he filled his mouth with. She heard him groan- she felt the knife under her ass, she gripped the handle.
John- boy smiled from ear to ear. The red blood rushed from his jugulars to pool on her belly and his last thoughts were, “This pussy, it cost too much”.
MONEY, MO MONEY.
Money meant a lot to Patrick and he knew the truck cost too much, but his wife would be delighted.
For him that was all that really mattered. He had lots of money.
Without the use of his legs it was a small price to pay for love.
Half a man, with a lot of cash, and a beautiful wife who loves trucks.
This was her sixth. For Patrick, everything in his life would cost too much, but he didn’t care. He leveraged his stumps on the pillows, smiled and imagined Sylvia’s soft kiss.