The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities are entirely fortuitous. The story may contain profanity and references to gay sex. Any relation to similar events or persons, fiction or real, is completely coincidental. If such content offends you please leave now. The author retains all rights to the story. Do not copy or use without written authority from the author. Write Bobby at brokendreamboi@yahoo.com with your comments.

Mad World 04

February 4 2011

Well my 18th birthday went better than I expected. I convinced my parents to let me go out with friends even though I really met Michael. He took me to my favorite restaurant. Even while eating, I couldn't stop staring at him. There is just something about him. Something that's so reassuring. I had more fun afterwards though when we went to see a movie and then a drive through downtown. Being with him is incredible. I feel so happy when I'm with him. Our two year anniversary is coming up in a couple of months. I wonder what he has planned for us. I LOVE MICHAEL HEART!!!

The platinum band lay nestled in a cushiony pillow of safety. Ten diamonds, weighted total at one and three-eighths carat, sat side by side and wrapped around half of the band in a uniform line. The ring symbolized eternal devotion and love. Jacob hated gold so I knew platinum would be a bigger hit than even white gold. When I presented it to him on our anniversary, the glint in his eyes told me he loved it. He gave it back to me so he wouldn't lose it or have to explain it to his parents. But once he moved out, he said, he'd wear it every day, even to school.

I bought myself the exact same band, equal in every single way, yet another symbolization of our love. The only difference between the two was I had an M engraved inside of mine. Jacob had a J inside of his.

Since the funeral four days ago, I've done nothing but sit on the couch in the exact same spot. I ate a few almonds here and there, and drank nothing except liquor. I've learned the true meaning of depression. Never have I felt such misery. Jacob's death hit me out of the blue. Emotions don't honestly come easy for me, but over the course of four days I've managed to soak the front of my shirt that I've worn since arriving home Jacob's house. This is depression.

The TV has been on ever since the funeral, too. Regardless of what I watched, nothing could even make me laugh...or smile. Unfortunately, since I have satellite, some of Jacob's favorite shows and movies were on throughout the days. It could've been easy to avoid them, but just the sight of the names caused me to take a swig. So many times have we sat on this very couch and cuddled while watching some random movie.

A knock came at the door.

"It's open," I said just over the volume of the TV.

In walked mom. Upon seeing me, she grimaced. "Michael, what are you doing?"

"I'm watching TV," I replied sarcastically.

"What is that smell?" She sat on the opposite end of the couch. It suddenly seemed like she already had her answer. "Have you showered lately?"

"Not since Friday,"

"Michael!"

"What?"

"It's Tuesday! Have you drunken all these bottles?" Mom referred to the empty bottles of booze that littered the coffee table.

"You know, I'm having a hard time right now. I don't need this crap. This is my condo and I'll live how I want to." I took a giant gulp from the tequila bottle.

"I'm not telling you anything, Michael. Have you at least eaten anything? Or has liquor been your balanced diet these past few days?"

I found no reason to answer her questions. She already knew the answers. The TV made the only noise for several minutes before mom picked up a few of the empty bottles and walked into the kitchen. I didn't know what she was doing, but by the sound of cabinets opening and dishes being fumbled with, she was probably making me something to eat. Sure as the sky is blue, mom eventually came out of the kitchen wielding a bowl of canned ravioli. The red mush brought with it the memory of Jacob. These canned ravioli were the last thing Jacob and I ate together. Without warning I began to sob quietly.

"Michael, it's okay. You can cry. You need to cry." I felt her hands on my shoulders, but saw nothing. The tears were blinding me.

"I'm fine damn it!" I tried to sound convincing, but it was obvious my words were desperate.

Mom hugged me, trying to provoke the pain to escape. I am much more resilient than that. Cracking me is a very difficult thing to do, and a hug isn't even close to the proper way.

"What about work?" she asked with a sickened look. The smell must be getting to her.

"I called off,"

"This isn't like you. You need to be proactive otherwise you'll just lose your mind sitting here like this."

"Mom, leave," I ordered her. Me demanding that was much nicer than what I really wanted to say.

"I'll be back to check on you, Michael. Please just take a shower and eat something solid."

I winced when she kissed me on the forehead. Showering is the last thing on my mind. The note that I found in Jacob's room was still haunting me. I'm trying to figure out who the hell could have written it. Jacob didn't have any enemies. He was liked by so many people. Then again, the note doesn't have to be written by an enemy. Only someone close to him would know that his parents would react badly to the truth. Is there really anyone that heartless, though? Who could be that close to him and not be infatuated with him? That's what happened to me the first time I met Jacob. I'll never forget that day...

I just saw the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life. The kid is maybe five foot seven and very skinny. The skin, though, was a light mocha color that glowed amazingly. Besides his gorgeous skin, his hair caught my attention. The blackest black I've ever encountered, and it stood straight up on the top of his head about five or six inches with a blonde streak running through the center. I must find out about him.

While in school, I made many friends, some of whom weren't in my grade. If I can just find a couple of those friends they can hopefully divulge information on the gorgeous boy. I'm here at the high school meeting with my eleventh grade math teacher. He called me randomly last week wanting to buy a house. I haven't sold many houses thus far, but with the few that I have sold I've gotten a nice feel of victory, and now it's an addiction.

I met with Mr. Brown and discussed some interesting properties with him, but sadly I must admit that my focus wasn't entirely on business. The beautiful boy I saw only moments before became the main thought in my head. As luck would have it, Mr. Brown had to cut our meeting short. I went walking around the campus looking for old friends to question. Usually most students sit in the quad area during lunch, but there are always the groups that stray from being subjected to normality. The boy, though, appeared to be preppy in any sense of the word so looking in the quad seems like a better idea than anywhere else.

It felt so weird being back at the high school. I remember every minute of daily happenings in the high school life. I remember the dirty, but sometimes new books and the teachers who often let their students slack off instead of taking part in the mundane teachings. Mostly I remember how fun high school was. I learned of real estate a month before I graduated and I immediately knew that it was the career for me. College wasn't all that bad. Only three classes were needed in order to take the real estate license exam in this state.

"Michael?"

"Hey, Sammy! How the hell are you?" I asked, hugging my old friend.

"I'm good. What are you doing here?" she questioned, taking a step back from me.

"I met with Mr. Brown about some houses for sale. I'm a real estate agent."

"Oh, my God, that is so cool!"

"Yeah, it is pretty cool. So listen, I need your help with something."

"What?"

"There's this guy that I saw earlier and he is too cute. I was wondering if you knew him at all."

"Show me,"

We walked over to where I saw the boy. Sammy recognized him and better than that she said she's friends with him.

"Come on," she said. "I'll introduce you to him."

"What!? I can't meet him! I wouldn't know what to say. I mean, I'm like way older than him!" I argued stupidly.

"Oh, poo, he's sixteen! You're only, what, nineteen? What's the big deal?"

"Is he even gay?"

"Jacob is totally gay,"

"Jacob," I repeated. "That's a cute name."

"Yeah, so come on. You're gonna meet him."

If the boy, Jacob, wasn't so damn cute I would've fought harder against Sammy's pushing, but I was powerless to stop what was happening. In my heart I knew I wanted to meet Jacob, but my brain was throwing up red flags for more than one reason.

"Sammy, I don't know what to say!" I whispered harshly at her, but she ignored me.

She tapped on Jacob's shoulder. "Hey, Jacob!"

Jacob turned around, laughing from a previous conversation. He took one look at Sammy, then he focused onto me.

"Hey, this is my friend Michael." Sammy said as casually as possible.

"Hi, I'm Jacob,"

That moment was the beginning of forever. Sadly, forever ended sixty years too soon. Jacob is now gone forever. Is that irony? It kind of feels like irony. Whatever. I'm too drunk to think straight. Now there's an oxymoron. As I reached for the bottle of vodka, I noticed a pungent odor in the condo. I sniffed inside of my shirt and came to the very obvious conclusion that it was I. Never in my life have I smelt this bad. A strange feeling in the pit of my stomach sent me running to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before vomiting nothing but liquid. The rancid smell caused even more vomit to launch from the stomach that was so deprived of nutrients. Seeing as how the shower was right next to the toilet, I stripped off the putrid clothes covering my rancid body and stepped in.

I dressed only in a pair of green boxers. The liquor reserves were running low so I needed to sober up to buy more. Milk always helps me defeat hangovers and since food is also something that helps I poured a bowl of cereal. The ice cold milk felt incredibly satisfying coating my esophagus and filling my stomach. I sat at the table and re-read the note from inside Jacob's mattress.

You make me sick

Your parents will find out

go to hell faggot

Only a certain few were close enough to know that his parents weren't accepting. Grace, Angie, Todd, and I are the few. It could be possible that Jacob told others his parents would freak. He did eat with several people at lunch, not just his three best friends. But what could anyone possibly have against him? He was an A-B student; a member of the American Cancer society and French club at school. The sick feeling returned so I figured I should push the detective side away for now.

The condo was quite filthy. Dishes were piled up in the sink from last week still. Bottles of various liquors littered the living room. And the smell was terrible. I opened the sliding glass door that led out to the small patio to let some fresh air in. Almost immediately I felt a difference in the atmosphere of the condo. It was a beautiful spring day outside. Jacob loved these kinds of days. The two of us were pretty active outdoors. We played tennis on the public courts in the community often and swam during the hotter months. Before all of this happened, I would wake up around seven each morning and go for a run. But it's been over a week since I've had any kind of exercise. The crash diet I've been subjected to has kept me in a weak state therefore burning off whatever fat I did have for energy. Even my muscles have lost some mass already. Jacob wouldn't want this, but it's hard to do anything when all I feel is pain and sorrow.

Within an hour, the kitchen, dining, and living room were clean. Cleaning didn't kill as much time as I would have liked. My bedroom isn't that messy and the two bathrooms aren't ever dirty so that's out.

"Fuck," I spat out.

I went into my bathroom and poured half a jug of bleach into the toilet. I did the same to the shower, too. No reason for it. The office could use some tidying up, but that's probably better to do when I've sobered up. Don't want to throw away something important after all. You know what? I think the condo could use a fresh coat of paint. Yeah! That's what'll keep me busy. I'll go to Home Depot later and buy some new paint. I walked back into the kitchen, but stopped upon seeing the letter on the table that Jacob wrote.

"Damn it," I muttered sadly. Without being able to control myself, it was soon in my hands being read. "Collin. What is with Collin...?"

This homeless kid must have made a huge impression on Jacob. Going to see him "as often as possible." What is that about? Incredible or not... Oh, my God! That actually explains a lot! Whenever the two of us were able to hang out he would sometimes ask me to pick him up later than I would have liked. Maybe that's the reason. That could be the reason. I bet that's the reason. Man, you've no idea what kind of jealousy just struck me. I've never felt jealousy like this before. The nausea returned and my stomach growled sickly. Jacob said he never cheated on me, though. So, there's really no reason to be jealous. But what's the deal with Collin? I tried remembering any mentioning of him whatsoever. The day I gave him that twenty, he looked right past me at Jacob. I should've guessed there was something more than just a dazed glance.

I know what I have to do. I must find Collin and see what the big freaking deal is! Jacob befriended a homeless person for a reason. I ran towards the door, grabbing my keys and wallet on the way. But after tripping over myself, and while lying on my face, I realized a key factor.

"I need to sober up, first."

It was well past eight before I was able to walk in a straight line. Collin, I figured, would have been more than impossible to locate in the city that late. The idea of getting out of the condo was still very pleasing, however, so I decided to go to one of the local parks and just take in some fresh air.

The night air was crisp and refreshing. I felt rejuvenated breathing in the clean air instead of the musty, stale air that I was breathing only hours before. Moonlight shone brightly almost making the lampposts unnecessary as I walked along the concrete pathway. There were many different pathways to choose from. A few went deep into the park's lush greenery while others kept towards the outer perimeter. Now that I think about it, the pathways are like the Earth's interior. There is the mantle and outer and inner cores. That's basically the layout of the pathways here.

It's common knowledge that the people who trek to the parks late at night are generally up to no good. You can find teens smoking, drinking, and doing drugs or prostitutes turning tricks. All the parks vary, however, and not all have the same hoodlums. Some only harbor prostitutes while others conceal drug addicts. It just really depends on the night.

I sat on a bench to take a break. I've been walking for quite a while up to this point. Just as I expected, no one was around the immediate area. But in the shadows of the trees I could see the faintest orange dots. The dots would brighten and then fade back down. I don't understand why teenagers come here to smoke of all places. This park in particular is usually closely monitored by the police. I guess tonight, though, the monitoring isn't their top priority.

Jacob loved visiting the parks. Three out of the five located in the city featured ponds with ducks, and he loved feeding them. Numerous mini-dates consisted of feeding the little birds of prey. I call them birds of prey because ducks don't like me very much. When we would feed them, they would target my fingers instead of the bread. Jacob never had this problem, though. They would eat straight out of his hand. To this day I still don't know what I ever did to them to cause them to have such anger towards me. Hell, I even bought top quality bread. The bastards.

I forced back the tears in my eyes. It kills me that he's gone. I have a never-ending pain that is just rotting inside the heart that was once so full of life. I just want to know why he killed himself. The note... That cannot be the only reason. Jacob was not stupid, but maybe I misjudged him. He's a fucking retard for not coming to me with his problems. He knows I would've come straight over and dealt with anything. We were supposed to be together forever! We were going to have a house together and kids and a dog. Why would he just throw all of that away!? The tears couldn't be held back any longer.

I noticed someone walking in my direction and figured it was time to leave as druggies were known to travel in packs. Instead of going home, though, I entered a bar that was on the corner of the block. The bartender seemed carefree enough to not worry about what kind of riffraff came into his place. I ordered a beer, then went to sit in a corner by myself.

Jacob. Jacob. Jacob. Jacob. Jacob. Jacob.

A few hours and several bottles of beer later, I stumbled out of the bar feeling the need to pass out. The responsible thing to do would be to call a cab or my parents to pick me up, but fuck responsibility. I don't give a shit anymore. I fumbled with my keys before finally managing to unlock the truck. Inside I dropped my head onto the steering wheel and balled.

"Jacob, why!?"

I couldn't even see straight enough to start the engine. Within a few moments, I was overcome with sleep...

A car door slamming startled me from dreamland. My head was throbbing and I felt nauseas. Across the street, a car was pulling away from a guy, probably a prostitute. I searched for my keys, but couldn't see anything in the pitch black of the interior.

"Great," I groaned loudly. But that wasn't the smartest idea. "Shit!" I flung the door open and ran to the back of the truck to barf. I hadn't had too much food so all that was being expelled was alcohol. It was burning on the way up, and it didn't feel much better as it went out.

Once the vomiting stopped, I went back into the cab for a bottle of water to rinse and spit. The smell of vomit could induce another session and I definitely don't want that. The taste was rancid in my mouth so I reached for a tin of mints from the glove box. I felt at ease almost immediately as the mints started to dissolve on my tongue. I looked out of the window to see if anyone had to watch me blow chunks, or in this case liquid, but the only person around was that prostitute who, by the way, was staring intently. Not feeling up to being intimidated, I stared right back at him. He then began to walk over.

"You looking?" he asked, shivering from the low temperature outside. I hadn't even noticed the cold until then. "Ten bucks will get you a blow job. Twenty for some ass."

"I'm not looking," At least, not looking for sex, but I was checking him out. He was very cute-soft face, messy brown hair, shiny milk chocolate eyes. His cheeks were rosy red from the cold.

"Okay," He began to walk away, but then I suddenly realized why he looked so cute. I've seen him before, but I just can't place... "Wait!" I called out, memory coming into focus. "Collin, wait,"

Upon hearing his name, he stopped and turned around.

"Do I know you?" he asked warily.

"Yes, well, no, but you knew Jacob." I hopped out of the front seat and slowly moved in front of him.

"Are you..."

"Yeah, I'm Michael," I finished for him. "So, listen. I know you and Jacob were good friends, I guess. There's something I need to know." Collin looked pretty nervous. He probably had a hunch as to what the question was. "Did you and Jacob ever have any kind of sex?"

Collin then suddenly eased up. "No,"

The relief that washed over me was fast and furious. I knew Jacob wouldn't cheat, but can you blame me for being curious still? If he could keep a secret that caused his suicide he could've surely kept cheating hidden away.

"Well, that makes me feel so much better." Smiling, I replied.

"Why not just ask Jacob? Think he'll lie to you?" Collin asked. I hadn't thought of whether or not he would know what happened, but his question still caught me off guard. I know if I had the chance to ask Jacob he wouldn't lie to me. I think we all know why that wouldn't be possible, however.

"Collin, Jacob committed suicide last week." I said softly, but not soft enough. I'm still not used to thinking about it much less speak it.

The expression on his face was indicative enough. He and Jacob were definitely close. I invited him to stay the night with me because that's what Jacob would've wanted. Collin resisted briefly, but relented when I mentioned I'd make him something to eat.

The drive home was a little uncomfortable for me. Collin, being homeless and unable to shower regularly, had a slight odor about him. But I said nothing because there wasn't any point. Once we arrived at the condo, I told him he could shower and that I'd give him a pair of clothes to change into. He was more than grateful for the opportunity to make himself decent.

While he showered, I prepared us a frozen pizza. Collin probably hasn't eaten a decent meal in a while and he could definitely use some skin on those bones. I heard the shower turn off. A few minutes later, a fresh boy stepped out of the bathroom. I thought he was cute before, but now he had on designer clothing and smelt great. But what is even going on? I shouldn't even be thinking of him that way, of anyone that way.

"Uh," I began stupidly, "I'm making us pizza. It'll be ready in a little."

Surprisingly, Collin didn't seem at all uncomfortable. It's possible that being a prostitute made him a more assertive person since he comes in contact with a lot of guys I'm sure. Shit, with a face like that? I'm stunned he isn't living large. Um, what am I even saying? Again! Fuck. It must be the alcohol talking.

"Oh, awesome," he grinned. "I am so hungry."

"You can sit wherever. Want something to drink?"

I saw his eyes wander to the vodka bottle sitting near the sink. "How about some of that?"

"How old are you?" I asked, skeptical he was remotely close to twenty-one.

"Really? You're gonna pull the whole age thing?"

"Yeah, you're right," I laughed at my own idiocy. "I used to let Jacob drink all the time. Well, not all the time, but quite often."

Collin sat at the dining table and watched me pour the vodka into two glasses. I felt a bit irresponsible for giving alcohol to a definite underage person, but anymore who am I to decide responsibility?

"He was really special to you, wasn't he?" I only nodded in response, handing him his glass of poison. "You should know that he loved you very much. I'm sure you didn't need me to tell you that, but you're all he ever talked about."

I turned away from Collin, pretending to wash a cup that wasn't really dirty. That was the last thing I wanted to hear come out of his mouth. I cannot cry in front of a complete stranger. The tears, however, didn't comply. They clouded my vision like San Francisco fog.

"Just out of curiosity, how old are you?" I asked in hope of changing the subject.

"Sixteen,"

"And how did you come to live on the streets?" I blurted that out before I had a chance to think. "Sorry, that was way too blunt. You don't have to answer that."

Collin looked down into his glass. I think I screwed up big time. Maybe this is a sign that I should stop drinking. Thank God I'm part Italian. Otherwise, I don't think the liquor could be held as well as it is now.

"No, it's okay," he sighed. "The parents found out I was gay and the next thing I knew I was on the street. That's really all there was to it."

"I apologize for their stupidity. It amazes me that people are still that homophobic."

"No one's more surprised than me,"

"How long has it been?"

"Over a year,"

"Wow, that is beyond ridiculous." A short silence fell upon us. "So, um, how did you and Jacob become friends?" I was actually very curious to know this. It's not out of character for him to just make random friends, but a prostitute?

"There's really not much to that, either. He just gave me some money one day and started talking to me."

"Jacob always had a knack for making friends. Apparently he'll befriend anyone." I think the alcohol was beginning to affect my judgment. I again said something without thinking. "I am so sorry. That is not meant how it sounded!"

But Collin just laughed. "No, it's okay. Who I am is not where I am and where I am is not who I am. Someday I plan on making it off the streets, but until I turn eighteen my choices are so limited, you know?" He looked around briefly. "Well, maybe you don't know." The comicality of the situation overpowered any potential awkwardness. We were both laughing lightly so I knew there wasn't anything wrong.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"You don't have to ask that. Don't worry about it. You can just ask the questions." Collin continued laughing. I was beginning to really like this kid and his lighthearted attitude.

"Are you surviving by selling yourself?"

"I don't have a choice,"

"Well, have you ever tried to cash in on Jacob?" Even though Collin said not to worry about it, I felt rude for being so forward with him, but the alcohol was preventing me from using my full brain power.

He looked thoughtful for a second as if trying to figure out a nice way to put what he was about to say.

"I did once, but that was before I really knew him, and before I knew about you. And like I told you nothing ever happened between us."

The oven timer went off so I went over to pull the pizza out. While eating, I kept our conversation to a minimum to give Collin a chance to fill up. He started with three slices, but went to get more after I had only finished my first. Poor kid. Sixteen and homeless because his parents couldn't accept his sexuality. He was actually fifteen when they kicked him out, though, since he's been homeless for over a year. This world anymore is pathetic and it sickens me. Some people just shouldn't be allowed to have children. There should honestly be an application process to become a parent.

Collin and I stayed at the dining table after we, or rather he, finished the pizza. There was lots of talking and laughter. Eventually, when I went to pour us some more drinks, I discovered that I had cleaned out my liquor supply.

"I have never run out of alcohol before." I laughed drunkenly. Collin joined in. "I can't believe this."

"Phew, it sure is getting warm," Collin stated. In fact, his face was glowing red a little bit. The next thing I knew he was taking his shirt off. "I hope you don't mind,"

I just stared unable to tear my gaze away from his body. "Uh... Oh, um, no I don't mind." A considerable tent popped up in my shorts and in my head I admonished myself for even checking him out.

Collin gulped down the last of the vodka in his glass, then walked over to the sink. On his way back, he commented, "You seem tense, Michael." And without warning, I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders squeezing perfectly.

"Oh, that feels great," I moaned.

He whispered right into my ear, "Want to make it better?" His warm breath sent chills down my spine.

"Yes," I said automatically.

His hands left the shoulders they were doing so well on and slowly slid down the sides that quivered from their touch, hooking onto the bottom of my shirt, lifting it overhead. Collin placed his hands directly on my skin this time. What he said was right. Massaging bare skin does feel a lot better.

"You're already feeling looser,"

If only he knew.

The tent in my pants became even more pronounced. Collin may have noticed or not, but suddenly he touched his mouth against the nape of my neck. I gasped out in surprise. He then proceeded to massage downwards over my chest. It felt incredible being touched by a male again, but I knew it wasn't right. Jacob's been dead only a week and here I am being rubbed by a prostitute.

But the alcohol was still strong inside of me and wouldn't let me object to his friskiness. I could've also blamed the alcohol for making me suddenly stand and pull him into me so that our lips mashed together. Our tongues dove wildly into each others' mouth, fighting for dominance.

"Mmm," he whimpered out. I felt his hands travel downward, undoing the buttons on the front of my shorts. My cock jutted out of my boxers with a glisten of pre-cum on the tip. Collin quickly dropped to his knees and licked it off. He pulled my boxers down my legs after lapping up the pre-cum. I bit my lip holding in the pleasure that I so desperately wanted. The last time I came was with Jacob the night of our anniversary. The deprivation of sexual contact had boiled over.

I stood him up and pushed him hard against the wall. I attacked his mouth with mine once more, and placed a hand on the back of his neck securely. His hands traveled all over my body, groping and pinching the right places. I tried lifting him, but for being so skinny he was rather heavy, or maybe it was just my lack of nourishment. He took the hint, though, and wrapped his legs around my waist. Without breaking our lip lock, I carried him into the bedroom. I threw him onto the bed and roughly yanked his pants off.

Under the bed was a bottle of lube that sat idle for far too long. I reached under and grabbed it, lubing myself up. The passion was absent. Pure unadulterated lust took over. All that was on my mind was cumming. I pushed Collin back with force and set up my cock with his ass. He winced as I shoved into him. He started to grunt with every thrust. The slapping sound caused by the front of my legs being rammed at the base of his ass grew louder the harder I plowed into him. More and more grunts ensued. Unsure of whether or not the grunts were from pleasure or pain, I bent down and nestled into the crook of his neck. Jacob loves when I do this. He loves the roughness. I bit into Jacob's neck soft enough to not break the skin, but hard enough to make him feel it. He shouted out and tried to wiggle out from under me, but we've done this before. I just pinned his hands above his head, and with my other hand I grabbed his throat. Yeah, Jacob loves this.

"Uh, uh, mmph," Jacob groaned loudly. I nibbled on his ear until he started to cum. "Oh, mmm,"

The lube was wearing off, and that mixed with Jacob clenching his ass together trying to increase his own pleasure, I was starting to really enjoy our mad fucking. I pulled all the way out, then slammed back into him with as much force as I could. The frustration of not cumming was overpowering the sensitivity that I usually showed during sex. I kept pulling all the way out and then slamming back in. Over and over this continued. Jacob kept grunting each time I slammed into him, but that just added to my urgency. Only a few seconds later did I begin to feel cum begin to prepare for its exit.

"Jacob, I'm gonna...cum, oh," I said breathlessly.

Jacob held onto me tightly. Our stomachs pressed together and heaved at the same rate. His cum was smeared between us. He suckled on my neck, which sent shockwaves coursing throughout me. The sensation caused an eruption of cum.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I shouted into Jacob's shoulder. I continued thrusting, but with increased strength. When cum stopped gushing from my cock, I laid still on top of him trying to catch my breath. I was beyond exhausted and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I rolled on the side and held Jacob in my arms. "Good night, babe. I love you." I kissed his cheek, then fell into a deep slumber.

A WTF moment, right? Well, the last part of this story was complicated for me since the last sex scene I wrote was in Along the Way lol, and I really hope it's adequate enough. Want to see Jacob's ring? Follow this link: Jacob's ring.

Feel free to write me at my e-mail address that's given atop every chapter. Also feel free to join my group: Shades of Wisteria. Oh, and don't forget about my instant messaging screen names! Don't worry about bugging me, either, because you WON'T. I love talking to my readers!

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