“Fuck,” I say with a laugh, dragging my hands through my hair.
Because I realize that this is it.
This is the turning point of my life. The moment that people wait for, where everything changes and things start to get better.
We’ll get married. And one day she’ll be carrying my baby in her beautiful stomach. And she’ll still fuck me even then. She’ll worry, and I’ll tell her it’s okay to have sex when you’re pregnant because I read it in one of our baby books. And she’ll be happy and smile because I read the fucking baby books like she asked me to. And then she’ll give me a blowjob because she’s so happy to be my wife.
And I’ll be happy because I’ll have a beautiful wife, full and pregnant with my child, on her knees, sucking my dick like the good fucking wife she is.
And then we’ll fuck afterwards anyway, because she can’t stay away from me because I make her so horny.
And could life get any more perfect than this?
Fuck no, I’ll scream from the rooftops as I come.
And then I actuallydocum, again, right here right now, in my pants while I stir my stupid fucking soup and think of Carrie’s lips wrapped around my hard dick. I cum all over myself and I feel it running down my leg.
And then I laugh instead of get freaked out, because…
This is everything!
Thump, thump, thump…
Someone’s at my door. The sound of their fists hitting my cracked red paint vibrates through my apartment. I’m pulled from my reverie and brought back down to earth with a euphoric crash.
“One minute,” I yell to whoever it is.
There’s cum on my hand and stomach and trailing down the inside of my thigh. I stand at my kitchen sink and clean it quickly. I rinse the sink out and squirt some bleach down it, hating not being able to clean it properly. But it’s okay, I tell myself; it can wait two minutes while I answer the door.
I pull my top off and throw it in my machine and I notice that there’s a stain soaking through my pants, but I can’t do anything about that now because I’m walking to the front door, looking for something to throw over myself because I don’t like answering the door half undressed with cum stains on my pants.
Whoever it is knocks again, louder this time.
“I’m coming,” I yell again and peer through the peephole, almost laughing at my own statement.
And when I look through the peephole I see it’s the prostitute from upstairs, and she looks really pissed off, and for a fleeting moment I wonder if she knows that I just came all over myself and she’s annoyed because I didn’t ask her for help.
But I wouldn’t ask her for help.
Not ever.
And especially not now; not with Carrie back in my life.
Because who needs an ugly whore like her when I have beautiful Carrie to bring me pleasure?
