Agony

A little about this story

This story was written after I had listened to a performance done by a very dear friend of mine. I do hope you like it. Warning: This story may contain content of a sexual or explicit nature. Reader discretion is advised.

Agony

She took his hand as they listened to the old recording. She rhythmicly swung it lightly, all the while begging the gods to keep her from weeping. He smiled and chuckled.
“You okay Honey?,” he asked.
“I’m afraid so Love.” she laughed, and quickly turned away, not that doing so would matter. He could neither see her face, nor she his. So, she let herself weep. she dropped his hand and slumped forward in sadness. She finally allowed herself to surrender. She tried to keep it quiet, but audible sobs soon escaped.
She couldn’t stop the jumble of thoughts that suddenly swamped her. She wasn’t even listening to the music anymore. All she knew now was the couch, and him, and her tears. Then, she felt hands on her shoulders, drawing her back. His strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her to him. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He didn’t need to. He always knew. He held her in that way, and gently drew her hands away from her face, trapping them in his.
“Agony,” she whispered.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he answered. They both knew he could do nothing, or would do nothing. She wished it didn’t hurt, but it would for a long time. She didn’t want that month to end, but it would in three days time.
Suddenly, he snatched her up as if she were no more than a baby and swiftly headed toward the bedroom. She too  felt the same urgency, and prayed for what would come.
she didn’t remember how her clothing came off, or how he pinned her to the bed, but soon, she was in a blissful haze. She remembered his swift entrance, the quick frenzied kisses, her fingernails clawing wildly at his back, and then, it was over. They lay together, each holding the other as if they would never do so again.

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2 thoughts on “Agony

  1. what a great post. I would write a post entitled “20 signs you’re a sex addict.” Unfortunately, for readers, your picture cured my addiction. thank you. I am now going off to purge my bowels–no doubt producing a toilet baby whose much more physically apeeling.

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  2. I am seriously considering starting a counter blog to this one. I’ll call it something like jaidie exposed, unfortunately. Or writing scholarly articles like, jaidie exposed: the social ramifications of lifting the greasy vale.

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