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Y_Yddo:
You can have sex with one real person of all human history - Who is your ultimate lay?
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23llipoo:
I'd like to have sex one more time with my wife who passed away from cancer 4 years ago. My body yearns for hers, and only hers. I miss her.
EDIT: Thank you everyone for your kind messages!
| Jsoooo:
| I'm pretty sure your wife would choose the same.
| Sending virtual hugs to you, 23llipoo.
END
My Red Basement
*violence/gore, necrophilia
~~~
2006
"Babe, where should this box go?" I was busy vacuuming the dirty carpet when I hear my wife ask behind me. Switching off the cleaning device, I look over my shoulder to see her holding a huge box of all of the books I read stored inside.
"Ah, those will be in the bedroom. You know I love to read right before sleeping," I smile as I make my wife chortle and playfully roll her eyes. It's almost like a ritual for me to read by the time of shut-eye for at least ten minutes.
"Of course I do, babe. Seventy-three books of scary shit, right? This isn't the last box then?" she says with a grunt and it's now my turn to laugh. In 3 years as wives, it makes me happy that she isn't creeped out by my obsessive love for the horror and thriller genre and rather encourages it. From when I was ten years old, I have found interest in disturbing works, whether it be a book or a film. I find them all fascinating and a work of art.
"Trust me. It isn't."
I couldn't be even more gleeful and feel lucky that she tries to relate with me by joining a movie marathon with me one Saturday night. But it quickly ended at the first film which was 'The Human Centipede' when it escalated to her throwing up her dinner, groaning to me along the lines of how could I calmly sit there and watch this 'garbage'. Ever since that incident, my wife advised me to watch movies while using earphones and not be in the same room as her, to which I understand and highly respect. Now my wife likes to joke that I'm secretly a psychopath.
"Someday, you'll kill me because of those stuff you like, love." I burst out laughing at my wife.
Speaking of movies, maybe I could reward myself from this cleaning with something spine-chilling. I heard on Twitter that the sequel of 'Guinea Pig: Devil's Experiment' was released this year. However, I never found the time to view it. Perhaps with a cold glass of beer as well. Just once this newly-bought house is all neat and polished and everything is set.
"I'll go sort these books out. Find me in the bedroom if you need any help," she informs me before turning her back while still carrying the heavy box in her hands.
When I finished vacuuming the carpet, my wife's melodic voice rings from across the hallway just in time. "Babe, can you clean the basement as well?"
"On it, Hon!" I shout.
The door squeaks as I turn its knob, revealing wooden stairs leading down to the basement. Darkness seems to have swallowed the stairs' half. With my hand occupied on a basket of cleaning supplies, my other, free one wanders around the rough walls, trying to feel a switch to help me see my surroundings. Then boldly, but carefully, I move my feet on the old wood. Each daring step I take in the murk of the room creates a heavy tip-tap due to the boots I'm wearing.
When it feels like I have reached the stairs' end, I made sure I really have by scuffing the tip of my boot around the ground. Bits of rocks scrap and crunch. I'm standing on cement pavement. I should get cleaning now but I need a some sort of source of light, and the illumination coming from the basement's open door isn't enough.
