A Boy Story

The Climax

There I was, home again while everyone was asleep. I was a perpetually nocturnal overnight worker so I had successfully shifted my hours completely opposite to everyone else. At least this seemed to have matched my life experience of simply being different than everyone. I felt bad about sleeping during the days, but May insisted that my health was more important than anything else. She didn't want me to continuously change my circadian rhythm and risk negatively affecting my health. I did meet her in school, so we both knew our medical knowledge pretty well. It made perfect sense, and the bright side was that I had a lot of time to myself. Besides, someone had to watch the baby monitor while May slept like a baby.

During the night I would try to preoccupy myself with video games that had no ending, or scrolling through social media. I had a home gym that I barely touched. I did, however, try to clean up the house as much as I could while everyone was sleeping. This limited me to activities of manual labor because electronics would be too loud. I successfully cleaned the toilets, mopped and swept the floors, and dusted the house. I was the cook of the house, so I also planned the meals and organized the shopping list.

That night, I opened the messenger app that Jessie and I shared. I had no other contacts except her, minus some spam in a different language. It was their mistake that I was able to read it and not respond to it accordingly. I quickly looked at the messages that we shared. I would be able to scroll on for minutes, vividly remembering each scene just like the books I used to read when I was younger. We talked a lot. She was with Andy now, so I deleted the history of the chat. I felt a sharp pain in my chest when I clicked the delete button. I felt that pain again when I clicked that I was sure. That was it.

I had no right to feel sad.

Morning time came around and I grudgingly went upstairs to make breakfast. My five year-old son came down as grumpy as possible and just commanded me to get him something to drink. That was no way to talk to his father.

"Ethan!" I said sharply, "If you need help from somebody, you should say please. Unless you want to get it yourself?"

"Please." said Ethan.

Usually I would have had more energy to properly reinforce the lesson, but I just couldn't do it today. The tolerance level was really low. He didn't even say good morning, and it just reminded me of my entire life. Even my own son didn't acknowledge me.

I got his chocolate milk and then went to cook bacon for breakfast. Moments later I heard crying. It wasn't Ethan, it was Mili my two year-old daughter. I saw May coming downstairs with a crying Mili in her arms. With one look at me, May had a frown on her face. She knew I was in one of those moods again.

She continued down the stairs with Mili and walked right past me. Ethan was feeling uncomfortable with Mili's crying and I just walked back into the kitchen. After our kids were born, I couldn't confide in May as much as I did in the past. My logical solution was to try and be happy in front of the kids as much as possible. Even when I wasn't, I would try. Of course, this was a terrible solution, and occasionally I would slip into one of those moods that just needed to escape. I felt like I had to perform for my family constantly, to be that perfect father. May told me to go to sleep early after breakfast was done. I obeyed.

It was too early to sleep, so I just laid there and thought. I was trying to figure out what triggered this mood. Was it Ethan? His grumpy wakeup stung me a little. It basically told me that he didn't want to greet his father, the guy that cooked him food and played toys everyday. He was just a kid. It was my job to be the adult and not take it personally. I was upset that I couldn't embrace May when I was feeling down. In those college days, after a hard days work of community service or public speaking, I would just cuddle and watch some videos with her to relax with a nice pizza or something. I would be able to treat myself back then and simply take a break from life. It was my inability to cope. I was getting upset at myself for being sad about Jessie. I had no right to be sad. She couldn't be a romantic interest because I wasn't willing to make myself available for her. My eyes were getting heavy as I was finally drifting to sleep.

I had a dream about Jessie. She told me her date went well, yet she was crying her eyes out to me. She and Andy had sex after dinner and she said that she had the potential to become pregnant. It was the right time of the month and she wasn't on the pill. All I could do was comfort her and tell her that Andy was a faithful and loyal person. She didn't want that kind of comfort, she wanted something else.

She wanted me.

Even if she were to have a baby from another man, she wanted to at least have the fantasy of having one with me. I was the type of father that she wanted her own to be that never was when she was growing up. I was the type of father that would teach his kids valuable skills and cherish them. I was the type of father she knew she wanted her child to have. Tears in her eyes, she laid down on her bed, removed her clothes and stared into my eyes. All I could see was a soul yearning for connection in those beautiful, large eyes. It was the first time I saw her without makeup. Her artistic eyes had a natural sparkle from her recent crying. The world paused as I gravitated towards her. It was like a spell which I had no power to resist. My eyes lowered from hers, onto her mouth and neck, her bare breasts and toned stomach, down to her hips and slender legs. As she noticed my eyes down there, she spread her legs. I had never felt so hard down there in my life. I was truly spellbound.

We connected. It was difficult to recall every detail. It was like shifting between worlds of animalistic satisfaction, blankness and auroras. It was like a psychadelic movie where the film roll had some rips in it, all the while frequently feeling the tight squeeze accompanied with uncontrollable yelps of pleasure. The marks on my shoulder from her nails were proof that this wasn't imagination. We lost track of time and then she whispered to me.

"Give me a baby."

These words were the trigger. I got even harder and I felt a harder squeeze as she was preparing for another wave. This time she gripped so hard with every muscle she had. I surrendered to the blissful moment of mutual release. It was the most intense and pleasurable orgasm I have ever had in my life. It felt like there was no limit to the pleasure as she was shaking too. We collapsed into each other's arms, seemingly still spasming fluids into each other. Still embraced, we greedily ate each other in kisses. I tasted the entire contour of her full and seductive lips. I stared into her happy eyes and saw the reflection of my own happy self.

"What on earth..."

I whispered to myself as I woke up. I felt tears rolling down my eyes. The world was still slightly spinning as I bumped into the wall and fumbled around to look for my phone. I noticed I had this huge erection that was bigger than I have ever had. I looked at my clock and it was still three hours before my alarm. Unable to sleep, I slipped a condom over my erection and started stroking. Images of Jessie from that dream rushed and overcame my mental imagery. I had automatically turned around and started humping my pillow as if I was on top of Jessie. The connection in my fantasy felt so real it was like she teleported to my bed. When I orgasmed, it was the same pleasurable experience I vividly remembered from the dream. I drifted back to sleep in satisfaction.

Satisfied, she hugged me one more time. She didn't say "I love you" like my wife would always say after sex. Instead, she winked and kissed me as she got up to get ready for bed. She slightly pushed me away with a gentle whine.

"You can't let your wife worry by getting home too late."

I woke up again. My wife? That's right, I was a married man and just had sex with a young lady. Not just any sex, but sex that left me in a complicated state of power, satisfaction and confusion. It was so orgasmic I felt that something had opened up inside of me. I had to remind myself that it was just a dream, but did I just continue it? Exhausted, I drifted back to sleep.

My alarm for 4:30PM jerked me awake. I had to make things right. May always explained to the kids that when dad was upset, he just needed sleep and it would fix him. I would then need to pretend that I was magically better and play with them like nothing happened. This time was different. I felt oddly energetic. And what was with that crazy dream? I remembered so many details and I was even able to continue it after waking up. It felt like something had indeed changed within my body.

In my daily routine, all I could think of was Jessie. Anytime there was a second to calm down during the day, my mind would be flooded with her. Sometimes, it would be a distinct memory that actually happened, but mostly it was an abstract appearance of her in my head. Unexplainable, relentless imagery of this girl. Did I have to get help? I had to constantly reject these images because I had to move on. I was a married man. There was no way I could tell May, at least not until I figured out why this was happening to me. I needed to get help.