Worthy (Part 2)

Powder and Condoms

Tonights Thursday night. Thursday nights mean grief group.

Ella baby is with Tyler, no telling what kind of hood rat shit they're getting up to. But if he hops her up with sugar again, he's staying to put her to bed.

I walk in the community center, down the hall, passed the bathrooms, into the small room. The fluorescent light above is the only light coming in, and i feel bad for the plant that lives here.

No sunlight. No other plants. No one else probably even notices it. I wonder who waters it?

I poked the soil once to see if it was real. It was.

I sit down next to the man named Robert. His wife died a year ago from a stroke. He's a nice guy but fills his void with either coke or powdered doughnuts. He's always got white powder on his black shirt. I'm assuming the later because of the little belly poking out under his shirt.

There's a few others around, i dont know all of their names. But we're all here for the same reason.

Someone we love is gone.

Cheryl is probably my favorite.

Her son died from an overdose two years ago. She brings in cookies and coffee. She's really sweet, warm, and caring. Anytime anyone new shares their story, she has this face.

She puts her hand on her heart and closes her eyes, i wonder if she's praying?

I havent shared much.

"My name is Emory, my wife died a few years ago, we have a daughter. "

I'm not the only one that doesn't share.

The meeting begins and I immediately zone out.

Not on purpose. But... i can barely handle my own loss, let alone someone else's.

I zone in and out a lot now when Ellas not around.

I notice the girl that doesn't share is talking

Grief Group Girl: My husband killed himself—

Nope. Not a story i want to listen to.

I dont really know why i come to these meetings. But.... they help. I guess here, I don't have to put on the smile, or show anyone that I'm ok. Here, i can just be. I dont have to pretend because these people have their own grief to care about.

I look up again and notice the girl looking at me.

She's cute. She has probably a handful of tits, theyre on the smaller side. Her hairs crazy. She has a ring on her finger still.

So do i.

I zone out again, looking at my ring.

When i snap back to it, I have the girl from the meeting pushed against the bathroom stall.

When did i get in the bathroom?

Who initiated this?

I looked down, thank god i had a rubber on.

Whose was that?

Wait. My dick was stiff! I was successfully fucking this chick!

She moaned and I looked back up

Her little tits were jiggling as I pumped in and out of her. She had freckles all over her back. If she had maybe ten more freckles, she'd look tanner

Grief group girl: Harder. Fuck me harder.

Her moans didn't make me feel right, so i covered her mouth with one hand, grabbed her shoulder with the other, and slammed myself into her.

Fuck it felt good.

I was pounding in to her so hard I thought we'd tear the stall down.

I was half in shock that my dick was awake, half trying not to cum too fast. It's been awhile.

Her ass rippled Everytime I slammed into her.

She had it pushed out for me, gripping the handicap bar.

I closed my eyes tight, maybe if i tried hard enough i could pretend it was Annie.

No. That's fucked up.

Her breathing got shallow, she moaned harder in to my hand. I hate condoms.

Her pussy tightened around my dick like it never wanted to let go, her legs shook, I'm assuming she came, and I came right after her. I didn't just cum. I fucking UNLOADED in this girl. I'm surprised I didnt fill up the condom. It was awesome.

But, what the fuck?

I had never shared even one word with this woman.

How the hell did we get here?

Did Cheryl spike the coffee?

Did i drink the kool aid?

I mean, I wasnt complaining even a little.

I pulled out of her, leaning against the other side of the stall and looked down at the weird ass condom wrapped around my cock.

I pulled it off

Me: I'm—

I looked up to see the stall door swinging in my face.

Huh.

Maybe she just wanted a random hook up, maybe that's how she filled her void.

No pun intended.

No complaints from me.

I havent been able to pop off for a woman in.... five years? Between the depression and the medications....

I felt terrible. Was I that guy now? Random hook ups at grief group? What was next?

I zipped up my pants, washed my hands, and took note of the condom dispenser on the wall on my way out of the door.

Was that always there?

Was this something I needed to talk to Dr. Winters about?