Josh and Valentine Chapter I
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Josh And Valentine - Chapter II free porn video
DISCLAIMER: There's not a lot of erotica this time around. This chapter is meant more to flesh out the characters, but there's a small bit in there, don't worry. There will be more to the story, I assure you, so for those of you who enjoy my stories, there is definitely more to come.
*
Writing is hard. Living, while tough in itself, is nothing compared to writing, especially something as difficult as this. It's been two months since my sister, the love of my life, the only woman who I could ever imagine spending the rest of my life with, left. I'm alone, I'm miserable, and, perhaps worst of all, I'm guilty as hell.
Because it's my fault - I understand that now, I know that it was because of me that Valentine walked away. It was because of my damned selfish obsessions that she turned tail and ran out that front door, leaving me to wonder if she would ever come back. It was hard - it was damn hard - to imagine facing the world alone, but I had to push on. If not for me, then for her.
If you've never been in love, you won't understand what I mean. You can't understand what I mean, but I don't expect you to. All I can do is tell the story, because - and let's face it here - that's what you all are interested in. The story.
As I write this, it's 9:30 at night; the wind has settled down and I'm enjoying the comforts of my best friend's so-called guest house. I have a half-empty bottle of Jack in front of me, a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray, and I'm doing my absolute damnedest not to kill myself.
But...the story comes first. My apologies.
After Valentine left, I was in complete shock. I became...something that wasn't me, to be honest. I was emotionally drained, I was reckless, careless, I stopped showering daily, I stopped going to school, I stopped just about everything. I began robbing liquor stores to support myself instead of being a productive member of society, and to say the least it wasn't pretty. I was a wreck, through and through, and to this day the only comparison I can draw up is a busted-up rock star whose lifestyle finally caught up with him. I had quit my job (I actually told my boss to fuck off, which was rather nice) and was struggling to make ends meet. In the end, I couldn't do it - I couldn't live in the house anymore. There were too many bad memories.
So I moved. I convinced my friend Joe to let me shack up with him, and it's because of Joe that I turned my life around. See, Joe is...how can I put this...Joe's a good guy. That's the best way to sum it up, I think. He's just a good guy. He opens doors for women, he pulls out their chairs, he donates to charities, he watches sitcoms. It's truly because of him that I pulled myself out of the wicked self-destruction that I had placed before me.
So - and I'm getting up to the part with the Jack here - I guess you can say that I'm a fucking prick.
I started sleeping with his sister.
Now, I'm pretty damn sure Joe isn't reading this, but if he is...well, there won't be a chapter three, I can tell you all that much. Joe's pretty damn protective of his sister. He's a lot like me that way: he loves her so damn much, but he doesn't love her like I loved Val. He just takes care of her. Their parents were drugged-out losers, heroin junkies who could give a fuck about their kids, and it wasn't until Joe was nineteen (and Tracie sixteen) that they finally flew the coop, told their parents they were gone, and hitched a ride to Vancouver. I met Joe as he was settling into his new place (the place that I'm staying in now). His sister, who is now twenty, started working with me at the brokerage, and they needed help getting stuff out of storage. So, being the nice guy I am (well, the nice guy I was, anyway), I offered up a Saturday to help them out.
Joe and I hung out a lot after that, at least until Val and I started sleeping together. He's the one guy I could count on no matter what, and it was to him that I turned when Val left. I told him the whole story - just like I'm telling you all - and he understood completely. Joe is the kind of guy that would help you out no matter what.
It actually reminds me of that old bumper sticker: "friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies." Because Joe would help you clean up a body and never ask how that body came to be there. When I told him what was going on, and that I needed to get out of the house, he let me shack up in his old guest house and helped me sell the house. He helped me pack up all of Valentine's stuff that she didn't take and put it in storage, he closed the sale while I was off getting high and drunk, and he helped put my ass through rehab.
And, just so we're clear: the Betty Ford Clinic does absolute wonders. If you have a problem, I highly suggest you check them out.
Anyway, Tracie was bummed when I quit, but was overjoyed when I moved in. Her and I quickly became good friends (we were friends before, but not good friends), and soon after I moved in we started sleeping together.
That was three months ago. This chapter all takes place yesterday.
*
Tracie was moaning softly as I licked her clit. I can't say she tasted better than Val, but she tasted damn good just the same, and I love a good-tasting pussy. She was writing underneath me, curling her hands in my hair, just like Valentine used to. Her moans became louder as I quickened my tongue, probing harder and faster against her clit. Suddenly, she let out a piercing howl of pleasure and, like always, a huge grin spread across my face, which was now plastered with her juices.
Her climax lasted for over a minute, which surprised even me. By the time her orgasm had subsided, she was completely drained of all energy, and I knew that the most I would be getting that night was a hand job at best. Sex was out of the question.
I was surprised, however, when she grabbed my cock and immediately began to suck on it. This had never happened with Tracie before - whenever she was spent (which wasn't too often, but it happened), she wasn't in the mood. But this time was different, it seemed, because she was really into it.
Her tongue explored my head, tasting the precum that had built up while I was working her pussy with my tongue, savoring the taste. She started with a shallow suck, her tongue still running circles around my head, though she quickly turned the shallow sucking into a deep throat which made me moan in pleasure and surprise.
"Oh yea, Trace, suck that cock," I breathed, my breathing coming out in ragged gasps. Man could she suck a dick! Her movements were speeding up, her head bobbing up and down as her tongue moved faster around my head. After a steady diet of pussy for the past ten minutes I wasn't going to last too much longer. I felt the familiar tingling sensation in my balls that signified I was going to come.
"Trace, I'm going to come," I breathed, my hands now grabbing at her hair. Before, when she would suck me off, she would always let me come on her tits or on her face - she never swallowed. This time was no different. She quickly pulled her mouth off my cock and began stroking it as I came.
I exploded onto her face, cum smearing her glasses and hitting her lips. The second wave was almost as big as the first, spitting more cum onto her face and then onto her neck as she lifted her head up. The last ones splashed onto her naked tits, which were absolutely magnificient, and I couldn't help but be reminded of when Val would swallow - it wasn't a big difference, but it was one of the things that I missed about her.
Tracie reached for the clean-up towel and wiped her face clean, then took a bottle of water and splashed some onto her glasses to clean them. When she was completely clean again she laid down beside me. Joe was working the graveyard shift as a security guard, which made our sexual encounters so much easier as we didn't really have to worry about him barging in on us as we fucked.
"Josh," she said, "can I ask you a personal question?"
We had gotten pretty close, and I saw no reason to really deny her some answers. "Sure," I responded, not wanting to offend her. Besides, I was a bit of a narcissist - I liked talking about myself.
"Why did you fuck your sister?"
Damn. The one question I wasn't ready for.
"You know, Trace, that's a tough question," I began, struggling to find a valid reason. "With what Val and I went through, we grew a lot closer than any other normal brother and sister." I sat up to look at her. "Val and I had a special relationship even before we lost our parents. It wasn't sexual - at least not then, anyway - but I always looked at her as the type of woman that I would want to be with for the rest of my life. She...made life worth living, I guess, after mom and dad died. It was because of her that I didn't just give up. I knew that I had to be there for her, through thick and thin, and I guess things just escalated."
"I couldn't imagine fucking Joe," she said. "I mean...it's Joe! He's my brother!"
As much as I loved Tracie, sometimes she could be a really insensitive bitch. "That's you guys," I said, somewhat coldly. "Val and I were different."
"Well, I'm not going to lie, I think it was right stupid of her to ditch you. But...her loss is my gain." She smiled and kissed me. "I need to go back inside, Joe's going to be home soon and I need to take a shower."
"Alright, Trace," I said, smiling back. "I'll be out here if you need me."
She got up and dressed quickly, though why she even bothered I couldn't fathom. Joe lived in the middle of nowhere - her and I could fuck in the middle of the lawn at noon on a Saturday and no one could hear or see. But she always got dressed after our little get togethers, and I could never talk her out of it.
I was just ready to take a shower when Tracie walked in. "Josh," she said, as I was turning on the water, "um...there's...someone here to see you."
I turned the water off before I could even switch it to the shower faucet. "Who?" I asked.
Her face looked worried. "It's...it's Valentine."
I quickly got dressed and ran to the house. Sure enough, sitting on the couch, was my sister and former lover. My best friend. My soulmate. The woman who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
And she looked like hell.
"Val? Jesus, Val, what happened?"
Her face was bruised and bloodied; her hair was a tangled mess and her left arm was sitting in a sling. She looked like she was on the receiving end of one of Sean Penn's outbursts.
So, naturally, she burst into tears.
I don't mean to be callus here, but I was shocked at the fact that she was here at all and pissed that she was essentially used as some asshole cocksucker's punching bag. I say "naturally" because it's only natural to burst into tears when coming out of a brutal beating and being with familiar, friendly faces again. That feeling of relief and comfort at finally getting away from the pain is too much for anybody, and I would have been amazed if Valentine was one of those people who just bottled it all up.
She tried to stand up but I quickly sat her back down. "Val, you lookTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
*
Writing is hard. Living, while tough in itself, is nothing compared to writing, especially something as difficult as this. It's been two months since my sister, the love of my life, the only woman who I could ever imagine spending the rest of my life with, left. I'm alone, I'm miserable, and, perhaps worst of all, I'm guilty as hell.
Because it's my fault - I understand that now, I know that it was because of me that Valentine walked away. It was because of my damned selfish obsessions that she turned tail and ran out that front door, leaving me to wonder if she would ever come back. It was hard - it was damn hard - to imagine facing the world alone, but I had to push on. If not for me, then for her.
If you've never been in love, you won't understand what I mean. You can't understand what I mean, but I don't expect you to. All I can do is tell the story, because - and let's face it here - that's what you all are interested in. The story.
As I write this, it's 9:30 at night; the wind has settled down and I'm enjoying the comforts of my best friend's so-called guest house. I have a half-empty bottle of Jack in front of me, a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray, and I'm doing my absolute damnedest not to kill myself.
But...the story comes first. My apologies.
After Valentine left, I was in complete shock. I became...something that wasn't me, to be honest. I was emotionally drained, I was reckless, careless, I stopped showering daily, I stopped going to school, I stopped just about everything. I began robbing liquor stores to support myself instead of being a productive member of society, and to say the least it wasn't pretty. I was a wreck, through and through, and to this day the only comparison I can draw up is a busted-up rock star whose lifestyle finally caught up with him. I had quit my job (I actually told my boss to fuck off, which was rather nice) and was struggling to make ends meet. In the end, I couldn't do it - I couldn't live in the house anymore. There were too many bad memories.
So I moved. I convinced my friend Joe to let me shack up with him, and it's because of Joe that I turned my life around. See, Joe is...how can I put this...Joe's a good guy. That's the best way to sum it up, I think. He's just a good guy. He opens doors for women, he pulls out their chairs, he donates to charities, he watches sitcoms. It's truly because of him that I pulled myself out of the wicked self-destruction that I had placed before me.
So - and I'm getting up to the part with the Jack here - I guess you can say that I'm a fucking prick.
I started sleeping with his sister.
Now, I'm pretty damn sure Joe isn't reading this, but if he is...well, there won't be a chapter three, I can tell you all that much. Joe's pretty damn protective of his sister. He's a lot like me that way: he loves her so damn much, but he doesn't love her like I loved Val. He just takes care of her. Their parents were drugged-out losers, heroin junkies who could give a fuck about their kids, and it wasn't until Joe was nineteen (and Tracie sixteen) that they finally flew the coop, told their parents they were gone, and hitched a ride to Vancouver. I met Joe as he was settling into his new place (the place that I'm staying in now). His sister, who is now twenty, started working with me at the brokerage, and they needed help getting stuff out of storage. So, being the nice guy I am (well, the nice guy I was, anyway), I offered up a Saturday to help them out.
Joe and I hung out a lot after that, at least until Val and I started sleeping together. He's the one guy I could count on no matter what, and it was to him that I turned when Val left. I told him the whole story - just like I'm telling you all - and he understood completely. Joe is the kind of guy that would help you out no matter what.
It actually reminds me of that old bumper sticker: "friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies." Because Joe would help you clean up a body and never ask how that body came to be there. When I told him what was going on, and that I needed to get out of the house, he let me shack up in his old guest house and helped me sell the house. He helped me pack up all of Valentine's stuff that she didn't take and put it in storage, he closed the sale while I was off getting high and drunk, and he helped put my ass through rehab.
And, just so we're clear: the Betty Ford Clinic does absolute wonders. If you have a problem, I highly suggest you check them out.
Anyway, Tracie was bummed when I quit, but was overjoyed when I moved in. Her and I quickly became good friends (we were friends before, but not good friends), and soon after I moved in we started sleeping together.
That was three months ago. This chapter all takes place yesterday.
*
Tracie was moaning softly as I licked her clit. I can't say she tasted better than Val, but she tasted damn good just the same, and I love a good-tasting pussy. She was writing underneath me, curling her hands in my hair, just like Valentine used to. Her moans became louder as I quickened my tongue, probing harder and faster against her clit. Suddenly, she let out a piercing howl of pleasure and, like always, a huge grin spread across my face, which was now plastered with her juices.
Her climax lasted for over a minute, which surprised even me. By the time her orgasm had subsided, she was completely drained of all energy, and I knew that the most I would be getting that night was a hand job at best. Sex was out of the question.
I was surprised, however, when she grabbed my cock and immediately began to suck on it. This had never happened with Tracie before - whenever she was spent (which wasn't too often, but it happened), she wasn't in the mood. But this time was different, it seemed, because she was really into it.
Her tongue explored my head, tasting the precum that had built up while I was working her pussy with my tongue, savoring the taste. She started with a shallow suck, her tongue still running circles around my head, though she quickly turned the shallow sucking into a deep throat which made me moan in pleasure and surprise.
"Oh yea, Trace, suck that cock," I breathed, my breathing coming out in ragged gasps. Man could she suck a dick! Her movements were speeding up, her head bobbing up and down as her tongue moved faster around my head. After a steady diet of pussy for the past ten minutes I wasn't going to last too much longer. I felt the familiar tingling sensation in my balls that signified I was going to come.
"Trace, I'm going to come," I breathed, my hands now grabbing at her hair. Before, when she would suck me off, she would always let me come on her tits or on her face - she never swallowed. This time was no different. She quickly pulled her mouth off my cock and began stroking it as I came.
I exploded onto her face, cum smearing her glasses and hitting her lips. The second wave was almost as big as the first, spitting more cum onto her face and then onto her neck as she lifted her head up. The last ones splashed onto her naked tits, which were absolutely magnificient, and I couldn't help but be reminded of when Val would swallow - it wasn't a big difference, but it was one of the things that I missed about her.
Tracie reached for the clean-up towel and wiped her face clean, then took a bottle of water and splashed some onto her glasses to clean them. When she was completely clean again she laid down beside me. Joe was working the graveyard shift as a security guard, which made our sexual encounters so much easier as we didn't really have to worry about him barging in on us as we fucked.
"Josh," she said, "can I ask you a personal question?"
We had gotten pretty close, and I saw no reason to really deny her some answers. "Sure," I responded, not wanting to offend her. Besides, I was a bit of a narcissist - I liked talking about myself.
"Why did you fuck your sister?"
Damn. The one question I wasn't ready for.
"You know, Trace, that's a tough question," I began, struggling to find a valid reason. "With what Val and I went through, we grew a lot closer than any other normal brother and sister." I sat up to look at her. "Val and I had a special relationship even before we lost our parents. It wasn't sexual - at least not then, anyway - but I always looked at her as the type of woman that I would want to be with for the rest of my life. She...made life worth living, I guess, after mom and dad died. It was because of her that I didn't just give up. I knew that I had to be there for her, through thick and thin, and I guess things just escalated."
"I couldn't imagine fucking Joe," she said. "I mean...it's Joe! He's my brother!"
As much as I loved Tracie, sometimes she could be a really insensitive bitch. "That's you guys," I said, somewhat coldly. "Val and I were different."
"Well, I'm not going to lie, I think it was right stupid of her to ditch you. But...her loss is my gain." She smiled and kissed me. "I need to go back inside, Joe's going to be home soon and I need to take a shower."
"Alright, Trace," I said, smiling back. "I'll be out here if you need me."
She got up and dressed quickly, though why she even bothered I couldn't fathom. Joe lived in the middle of nowhere - her and I could fuck in the middle of the lawn at noon on a Saturday and no one could hear or see. But she always got dressed after our little get togethers, and I could never talk her out of it.
I was just ready to take a shower when Tracie walked in. "Josh," she said, as I was turning on the water, "um...there's...someone here to see you."
I turned the water off before I could even switch it to the shower faucet. "Who?" I asked.
Her face looked worried. "It's...it's Valentine."
I quickly got dressed and ran to the house. Sure enough, sitting on the couch, was my sister and former lover. My best friend. My soulmate. The woman who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
And she looked like hell.
"Val? Jesus, Val, what happened?"
Her face was bruised and bloodied; her hair was a tangled mess and her left arm was sitting in a sling. She looked like she was on the receiving end of one of Sean Penn's outbursts.
So, naturally, she burst into tears.
I don't mean to be callus here, but I was shocked at the fact that she was here at all and pissed that she was essentially used as some asshole cocksucker's punching bag. I say "naturally" because it's only natural to burst into tears when coming out of a brutal beating and being with familiar, friendly faces again. That feeling of relief and comfort at finally getting away from the pain is too much for anybody, and I would have been amazed if Valentine was one of those people who just bottled it all up.
She tried to stand up but I quickly sat her back down. "Val, you lookTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
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