Sheeba My Neighbor Part II
- 4 years ago
- 29
- 0
She Made Me Tea free porn video
when i was separated from my husband i dated a boy, later moved in with him. his name isn’t important. he wasn’t either, come to think of it. we had a class together and we were both married, maybe missing out on something, or so we thought.
we did a lot of lying [verbally and sexually] together, something which binds the less pure of heart. he was a sweet Jehova’s Witness boy and i was the godmother of serpents. it worked well for a while- until it didn’t.
he had this wife. so pure and giving. i had never met anyone selfless until i met her. i remember when he and i would go to pick up his two boys on the weekends how she would invite me in from the car, where i preferred to sit. she’d make me sweet southern iced tea. things sweet always turn bitter to me after a while.
i sat there in her trailer, where she had to move after he left her with two young boys. i looked at the cheesy praying hands plaque on the wall, the cellulite around her big thighs…kids with dirty faces. i was like a diamond ring attached to this plastic mardi gras necklace in her home. i hated being there. i hated her for being so fucking nice to me…for admiring me… like an abused old dog who loved anyone as long as you didn’t hit it.
one weekend, she asked me if he [her husband, my live-in lover] missed her iced tea? i said ‘yes, he does’ and she proceeded to make me some tea, showing me exactly how to make it. she had a funny way of using a giant pickle jar as a container and she only used steel pots for boiling water. something about purity. i wouldn’t know.
she used two full cups of sugar and only half the pickle jar was filled with hot boiling water and in went the sweet stuff, hurling in tornado swirls as she stirred. she let it sit for ten minutes and then poured it over tons of ice packed in green diamond ridged glasses. she then packed a steel pot, a big pickle jar and tea [her brand] and half a bag of sugar and put in a big paper sack. she handed it to me and said ‘this is for you and him.’ stunned, i tried to decline this gift of her aching heart. i didn’t know what it meant. none of it.
when we left i told ‘him’ that i was really upset. he just reminded me that his wife was just very giving…one of the things he loathed in her, but desired in me… my’ lack of interest in everyone’…my cold heart, my selfishness and pride. sickingly, he said it made him ‘wanna fuck me.’ and so i looked out the window for a long time on the way back to our shared apartment. we drove two hours each way and there was plenty of time for quiet repose. we only talked about fucking and scrabble, really. i spent a lot of time staring out windows.
though my life is much different now, i still wonder who that girl was? not only me, but his wife…her dirty children with snot encrusted nostrils and her trailer smelling of potatoes rotting at the bottom of a trash can. i think sometimes i could be happy with anyone. there is nothing special about people. we all have a different story that happened in a different place and time, but we have the same fabric internally. we know the same songs that remind of us of long hot summer trips across boring flat states. we all feel deeply about our loss and our love. we all have parts of our bodies we wish looked better. we all look in the mirror at night and ask why we’re here. what’s so special, unique about one man and his tattooed arm?…a girl in pink panties lying on our bedroom floor telling us her life story in deadly detail?
not much.
when i think about love, how people do it, give it and lose it, i am amazed at my insight. not just into the topic, but insight into myself. i am cold, even deep down. for whatever reason, i am so abrasive and nonchalant when it comes to expressing my emotions to another person. passion, art, fucking, fighting…all of those things i practice at a white hot level of fever. but love, no. my love is not giving or kind or non-judgmental or easy. in fact, this frightening love, the ‘fear of losing something that means everything’, i don’t understand. have i reduced my life to a pit of burden over it? not really, no. you see, i like my tea hot. i hate iced tea with that sticky southern sweetness and harsh, bitter tea bag smell. i like earl gray, pepperment, citrus tea…chinese green tea.
i hate this woman more than i hate him now. her goddamn giving manipulation. so innocent and sweet, enough to poison blow darts that kill lions…her gentle hands, cold and delicate, but ready to claw my eyes out. her smile, warm with honesty, but her only thinking of me lying on my back with the father of her children as he did things to me he never did to her. this woman’s evil was in reminding me of my own lack of purity. showing me that people are capable of selfless acts…and that i, too hardened by my own anger, could not ever love someone like she could. not her husband. not my own husband. she whispered these lies and planted them at the bottom of tea glasses, smiling in slow motion from her kitchen at my sweaty handed confusion.
i don’t know how to be a woman like her … but i often wonder who [her with those praying hands, me with my drunken party conquests] is the bigger devil?
Aspen
- 28.02.2020
- 7
- 0
Sheeba My Neighbor Part I
- 1 year ago
- 28
- 0
Abby Davis and Madelyn Part 2
- 1 year ago
- 18
- 0
