Rated #2 in Mature Adult! WOW!!
Just read the damn story. Contains INCEST.
PLEASE READ THIS STORY AND LISTEN TO YOUR HEART PART 2 THE PURGE WHILE YOU STILL CAN. I AM THINKING OF DELETING BOTH STORIES. THE STORIES AREN'T AS GOOD AS I HOPED THEY WOULD...
"Damn...fuck dude. I got my snot all over your shirt. Sorry dog."
"Huh?" (I look down. Sure enough, my shirt looked like shit. Damn.)
"Well...you can't wear it like that." (She says.)
(She lifts my shirt off and tosses it onto the floor. She looks me over.)
"Damn. You're a hunk of meat...but you can tell you're an older guy. How old are you?" (She states flatly.)
"I'm twenty-seven years old."
(She laughs and sticks her tongue out and gives me a loser sign.)
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"Fuck...you're old!"
"I can't change when I was born." (I growl.)
"No... No, I suppose you can't."
(She wets two fingers with her tongue, and then glides her fingers slowly down my chest to my stomach.)
"Still...not bad. Muscular chest, and tight abs. Do you exercise?" (She asks.)
"Yea and I run sometimes." (I reply.)
"Really? How many miles a day?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"How far the cops chase me." (I answer.)
(She looks at me and notices the small grin on my face. She punches my arm.)
"Smartass!"
"Yep." (I reply. Wondering how I could talk to someone I hardly knew so easily.)
"Can I ask you for a favor?"
(I shrug)"Sure."
(She puts her arms around my neck, as she slides herself fully into my lap.)
"I need someone to talk too, and when I say talk, I mean someone who will actually listen to me. Don't talk, don't lecture me. Don't judge me. Don't give me any advice because I'll probably do the opposite anyway. Just listen to me. Can you do that?"
"Yes."
(She leans her head against my chest again, as she begins talking. Telling me about her life. Her sudden popularity. The constant stress of her tours, and the endless interviews and photo ops. The chronic pain in her knees, and her sleepless nights because of night terrors. Her friends treating her differently, and the issues with body dysmorphia disorder, and her dependence on anti-depressants. The abusive relationships she's been in, and how she could talk to her therapist, but not her close friends. About dealing with depression and anxiety her entire life and being diagnosed with Tourette syndrome as a child.)
(I sit and listen, with my arms around her waist. Reminded of my own dependence on medication for epileptic seizures...and I can't help but wonder how the hell someone her age could possibly deal with so much shit.)
(She exhales a deep breath, and sighs.)
"Thank you." (She says softly.)
"You're welcome."
(Suddenly, without warning...she tilts her head up and quickly brushes her lips against mine, then pulls back.)
"I'm sorry. I... shouldn't have done that. I'm usually not that impulsive. I don't even know you."
"That's okay."
"Just, okay? Gee thanks for making me feel like I'm thirteen years old again."
(She turns her head away. I sit there thinking, what did I say wrong? Then it occurs to me.)
"Oh...I'm sorry. I didn't mean your kiss was just okay. I meant it's okay for you to kiss me...if you want?"
"Oh." (She replies.) "So, you're saying that you liked my kiss?"
(What was it about this young woman that made me say the first thing that came to my mind?)
