An impostor.
Or removed from my memories.
She’s just not someone who fits into my life or the scene in the perfect picture I imagined hanging in my future home.
My. Notour.
I don’t believe I’ve ever thought of us as an actual “us,” and I’d feel sorry for that under different circumstances.
That I’m not sentimental enough.
Not caring enough.
Simply notenough.
Not now, though.
As she rides Yulian and keeps praising his cock, his performance, and the way she’s “feeling him in her stomach,” I let my real emotions slip through.
Detachment.
I don’t know how long the video lasts. It’s long enough for them to go into multiple positions. Long enough that I feel like I’m watching porn stars on drugs.
I don’t even see all of it since it was edited and cut and zoomed in on all the parts a “porn director” would think are fit to tantalize his audience.
Just when I think the video will never end, the final shot, the one that exists in all porn movies, comes through. He grunts, rubbing his cock—aggressively, I might add—then comes all over her stomach, breasts, and face.
He marks her in front of the camera for me to see as she licks his cum off her lips. Then, she moans with a sigh, sounding satisfied and positively spent. “You should’ve used my mouth.”
I expect the video and the surreal experience to end.
It doesn’t.
Instead, the camera flips back to show the face of theman whose dick’s performance I watched for the past half an hour or so.
His hair falls on either side of his forehead, damp with sweat, his eyes glinting, the blue looking darker, almost gray, the brown as black as his soul.
He grins at the camera, then bites his lower lip, and says in Russian, “This could be us, Mishka.”
Then the video stops. On his face.
A smash echoes in the air, and I realize I’ve crushed the bottle of milk with my bare hand.
I remain calm as I watch my blood mixing with the milk, drops enlarging in a pool, turning pink. The liquid sloshes off the counter, drenching my shorts and leaving streaks across my white socks.
A mess.
Like my life right now.
Just because of a thorn in my side that I should’ve left to die in that cave.
But I didn’t.
The time has come to put him in his place and teach him the manners he obviously lacks.
I’m surprisinglycalm for someone whose girlfriend of four years cheated on him.
Someone who had to watch what could only be described as a sex tape of her riding another guy’s dick.
