[Part III Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/fpgdgl/fucking_my_waitress_after_she_madeout_with_her/)
Days like years. Years like days.
We spent July 4th together and watched the fireworks explode in the valley from a blanket in the foothills. Whiskey and PBR and we made out and then we went to her place and we fucked. I choked her hard that night. Harder than I’ve ever choked anyone. She laid under me and her tan lines had become vivid from the week she had just spent in Mexico. I moved in and out of her. “Who the fuck owns this pussy,” I whispered. She inhaled and then slowly exhaled. “Daddy does. Daddy fucking owns this pussy.” I moved my hands over her firm, little brown tits, her body sinking into the sea of sheets and lightly wrapped my fingers around her neck. She looked me in the eye and nodded and then wrapped her hand around my wrist so I could feel her start to fade and then let go. She felt so slight in my rough hands. Like I kitten or a bird. I could feel the twitch of her nerves and her heartbeat as I slowly squeezed the side of her neck. Her thighs, that had been wrapped tightly around me began to slide down my body and still I squeezed harder, my forearm tense, my cock moving faster and faster in and out of her.
I could see her fading and she was the struggling to keep her eyes open and her fingers were slowly losing tension on my wrist. Then her hand slid off all together and she was faded, into that place in-between and I let go. The room felt so still and her body was slack under me as I continue to pound myself into her cunt. A deep inhale. Hard. Like she was exploding from underwater. Like Jesus in the river Jordan, washed clean of all her cares. Her body flexed. Hard. She was shaking and grabbed me. Tears rolled down here cheeks. Warm. Her life dripping from her to me. She grabbed furiously at my back at my arms like she was a blind woman trying to figure out where she was. Grab anything that would bring her back to her dark little apartment. 4th of july. being fucked. Her fingernails dug hard into my back and she inhaled deeply again and opened her eyes. I was moving as fast as I could in and out of her like I could fuck her back fully awake. Her eyes were watery and blood shot and she smiled.
“FUCCCCCCCK!!!” she yelled. Practically screamed. And then in an even voice. “Fuck me daddy.” I playfully slapped her face. My cock pistoned in and out of her. I was shaking. “Harder,” she commanded and I increased the speed of my hips slamming against hers. “No. Slap me harder” and I cracked my hand across her broad cheek and then did it again- leaving it warm and red to the touch. All she did was bite her lip and then grab the back of my head and brought my mouth down to her warm, red lips. Her lipstick had smeared and faded and we kissed so deeply. So Fucking deeply. My hands ran under her ass and pulled her hips up tighter against me. Dhe ground herself against the base of my cock. Breathing shallow and then deeper, until she whispered she was cumming, and came and collapsed under me. Her hands grabbing my ass and holding me in her. “Use me,” she whispered. I did. I shouldn’t have, but I always did.
I was leaving for a month to Japan for work the next day and as we laid there naked on top the sheets and watched the early morning light start to cast quiet shadows in her bedroom she ran her hands through my hair and kissed me and I could feel so much for her. I felt our future children inside her. I felt warm summer breezes moving through still summer houses and the slam of a screen door. Her head on my shoulder as we watched their soccer games. The beautiful mundanity of an eternity. Our souls forever stitched together. I felt my life and her life and our children’s lives and our grandchildren lives and evening walks down tree lined streets. Years from now. Her resting on my arm and the smell of wet lawns as sprinklers kept the rhythm of a dying evening. I could feel something. I could feel her. She drove me to the airport and dropped me off. “Text me when you get there” she said as I leaned back into her little jeep to kiss her.
“I will” I said.
I didn’t
At first her texts were familiar. They were sweet.
‘Hey. Hope the flight went well.”
‘I bet it’s late there. I miss you.’
‘Thinking about you. Good night.’
As each text went unanswered the time between them being sent increased. I wasn’t busy. I could have responded, but I was doing it. Again. I was fucking doing it again. I was burning it down. Burning it before it could burn me. You don’t need a degree in pop psychology to fucking understand it. Burning it so I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling. Feeling any of it. Doing what I needed to do to be happy. Ignoring what was right for what was easy.
“Tommy. Please don’t. Good night.“ 3 hours later. It was 2 am at home.
“You said you wouldn’t. You fucking said you wouldn’t.”
“Don’t do this. Please don’t fucking do this.”
And then she stopped. She stopped texting me and I started drinking more like I do, like I always have done, when it feels like it’s all too much. Whiskey from the 7-11 and wine from room service. My co-workers would head out after work and I would sit in my room.
My phone lit up.
“Hey. I’m going to go to dinner with Jake.”
“I’m not sure if you care, but it feels like I should tell you.”
Three more days went by.
“You probably don’t care. He’s coming over tonight.”
Then the next day I’m in America and I still haven’t answered her and then I miss my flight and stay in LA and fuck some flight attendant from my flight and it says it in the fucking bible “Thou shalt not fuck thy flight attendant.” I’m not sure where. Probably in the middle somewhere. Or the back. I’m not a fucking rabbinical scholar but I’m pretty sure it’s in there.
I kick her out of my room at midnight and start drinking until 3 am and then her texts came.
“You home? You should have gotten home.”
I stared at my phone. I felt buzzed and dizzy and why was I still watching an episodes of The Bachelorette?
The dots started bouncing again and kept bouncing and kept fucking bouncing.
“I know you asked and I still respect you and I’m not sure where we are or what happened or why you’re doing this or if it’s just you or if i did something but you asked and I promised you months ago before things started seeming more real with you and I don’t want to tell you but I promised”
Then the dots started bouncing again and then stopped and then started and then stopped.
“I fucked him.”
I stared at my phone and things started to spin. And I had done it again.
“Can I come over” I hit send.
I watched the dots bounce.
“Fuck you. I don’t care what you do.”
I stared at my phone and then the bachelorette crying over some guy she just sent home and then back at my phone.
It pinged.
“Tomorrow. I’m home all day.”
I walked into her little apartment and stood in a hallway. I held out the Japanese scotch I bought her and watched her standing there. Staring at me. Through me. Like she cared more about the wall behind me and then she started to breathe- breathe heavy. Then she breathed deeply and then her eyes softened and her jaw clenched and I stood there, the bottle now dropping to my side. Why did i do this? Do this again ? Why the fuck do I do this? And then I watched one tear and then another roll down her cheek. She didn’t wipe them away. Like they were holy. Rivulets of frustration and anger creasing down her cheeks. Topographies of sorrow. Her nose was running and still she stared into my eyes and then it hurt. Like electricity coursing up the back of my neck and searing into the back of skull. Into my brain. Heat. Just fucking heat burning into my skull and then my eyes felt hot and wet and they are burning too and my face felt flushed and i could feel warm tears begin to gather and grown heavy at the edges of my eyes and they ran down my cheeks and I am 39 and I am a grown ass fucking man and I am in this fucking college apartment with a bottle of scotch and I am lost again and then it all comes back to me again. I am 18 again. And this is why my fucking head is burning.
*I’m in Matt Herman’s basement at it’s August 4, 1997 and* *I’m handed a phone receiver.*
*“Tommy!*
*Mom won’t wake up!”*
*I’m high as fuck and I open and close my eyes hard. Trying to focus. I open my mouth wide trying to clear my head but it’s so dry and I am in my friends basement and I am high as fuck and TOOL is filling all the spaces and gaps in my brain and in the room and the noise is incessant and I reach out a hand and pat the air like maybe that will make the the music fade and I am high as fuck and the music throbs in and around me.*
*Mom won’t wake up.*
*His little boy voice is cracking with panic. He is 8 years old and he is my brother and even through the phone I can hear him trying to hold back the tears. Hold it together. Fucking hold it together. Please hold it together. Please hold it together.*
*Mom won’t wake up.*
*He says its over and over and over and over again like it’s a mantra. A protective recitation. An incantation. Maybe if he says it one more time it won’t be true.*
*Mom won’t wake up!*
*And then I’m driving and it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too vivid and the air in the car feels thick like I’m under water. It’s all too fucking vivid and I am high as fuck and then I’m through the door and he’s there. Shirtless. His little boy body. His eyes are red and he’s grabbing at my hand and tears are now running down my cheeks and his cheeks. There is such panic in his voice. He knows. He knows it’s all different now.*
*She won’t wake up!*
*She won’t wake up!*
*She won’t wake up!*
*And I am in the room with her body and now it’s just her body and its obvious it’s just her body and nothing else and It’s not her, but it’s her body, and her lips are purple, and her eyes are open, and the ceiling fan spins, and the room spins, and she won’t wake up, and she won’t wake up, and she won’t wake up. And it was the pills. It was always going to the fucking pills.*
*Then I am sitting next to him in a pew and we are wearing suits we bought together from Mervyns or somewhere else. I can’t remember. Even sitting there I can’t’ remember and it seems like I can’t remember anything or how I got here and my arm is around him. Then her coffin is carried out and I leave him at our grandma’s because we are selling our house and I have a scholarship to University of Minnesota and school starts in 3 days and everyone is so proud of you. How strong you are for your brother. You’re going to do great at college and we are so so sorry about your mom and we wished she could have kicked the habit.*
*Then I float above it. Or through it. Or around it. Or I’m standing there in the middle of it but the frame rate is too slow or all of a sudden too fast. And I feel nothing. I see people happy. I see people sad. And I understand why they are happy or why they are sad, but It feels so distant and hollow like it is a dream that I’ll wake from. She won’t wake up. Like it’s a dream that when it’s over then I’ll get to feel something again.*
And then I feel that searing pain in the back of my skull. In the back of my brain and I’m back in this apartment and she’s standing in front of me *and* I’ve let go of the bottle and its on the carpet next to my bare feet and I curl my toes and I want to be anywhere. Anywhere but fucking here. But I’m here and she’s standing in front of me. And I love her. I love her so fucking deeply. I’ve loved her from the very moment I saw her and it’s not love. It’s not fucking love, right?! Love is silly and this. Whatever the fuck this is is not fucking silly. It’s anything but silly. It’s everything. Every fucking thing.
“You’re impossible,” her words are measured and deliberate but the tears are still streaking her cheeks, “so fucking impossible.”
And I stand there. Wishing I wasn’t there. Wishing I could disappear or tunnel under ground and lay under a rock. Cool and dark and quiet. Free and empty. I am so good at so many things. Why can’t I just not fuck these things up. This one fucking thing. This one basic thing. Why can’t I let anyone be fucking close to me and then she is holding me.
Our bodies are touching and my arms are wrapped around her and her arms are wrapped around me and I feel her cheek wet and warm with her tears pressed into my neck and my chest. She’s whispering it to herself- “You’re fucking impossible. You’re so fucking impossible.” I hold her tight. I can feel this and I can believe in this and I bring her tight into me. And this is religion. I want to hold who she is. Who she was and who she will be.
I want to hold all of her at once. Every part of her body. Every memory. Every moment she will shape and every event that will shape her. Every memory and life she has ever had. I want o hold her 100s of years ago as she rode fearlessly across the western plains. Her hair tangle of dirt and wind and grease. Wild and free. A wildness and freedom that still shines through her eyes. I want to hold her tear streaked cheek against me. I want to hold the footballs games she said her dad took her to as little girl. Warm fall evenings and the smell of wet leaves in a gutter. I want to hold her winning the state soccer championship. Strong and young and her skin so dark brown. I want to hold her the night we met. The night she first laid down and closed her eyes and thought of me. I want to hold every moment we were together and we were not together. Mezcal and a blanket and a fire and light breaking across the mountains in the west. I want to hold her and her future babies- warm and soft in her arms and taking life from her breast. I want to hold her as she grows old and gardens and waters her plants and eventually when she is old and I am old and our children our old and everything feels old and worn and tired I want to lay next to her. Cool and dark and free and empty in the wet midwestern soil. Waiting. Waiting to meet again. Waiting to find each other again. Explore a different time and different place and then doing it over and over and over and fucking over again until the universe dissolves into nothing and we dissolve into nothing and all just is.
Our mouths meet and I can taste the sweet salt of her tears on her lips. I exhale and she exhales and I feel both hollow and full. Her tongue spreads my lips and I pull her even tighter into me and I press her open mouth hard against mine like I am breathing her in. Who she is. I pull my shirt off over my head and she pulls her off too if only so we can feel closer to each other.
Her slight breasts are pressed against me and I can feel her chest moving against mine. Catching her breath. My hands run down her naked back and down her ass I pull her tighter into me. You’re so fucking impossible. Our mouths are still locked together. Her hands trace my back and my neck and down my sides and she is moving to her knees and then she is on her knees in front of me. Like some perverted version of a supplicant and a saint. Like the performance of some unholy penance. She reaches for my belt but this isn’t what I want and it isn’t what she wants and I reach down and grab her by the throat and I pull her up to me again.
She takes my hand and leads me into her bedroom. She pulls me on top of her. Our bodies entwine and I can’t feel where I end and she begins. Her legs and arms are wrapped around me and then we are naked. My hand slides down to her pussy and she pushes her hips up, pressing herself agains the tips of my fingers. Not a word is spoken. The AC clicks on and whirrs through the still silence of her room. I gently rub circles with three fingers across her pussy, licking my fingers and mingling my spit with the wetness of her cunt until she cums.
Then I move my mouth between her legs and she adjusts her hips and I do the same thing, but this time with my lips and my tongue and spit. I feel her body begin to tighten and now the silence of the room is broken by her shallow breathing. She lets out a small whimper and then abruptly sits up grabbing the back of my head and burying my face into her. Into her pussy as she holds me there, my tongue running long strokes against her clit until she whispers she is cumming and throws herself back into bed and struggles to pull her hips away from me. Away from my mouth. I pin her hips to the bed and she knots the sheets in her fist. She is inside herself now and I continue to work her clit between my tongue and lips and she explodes again before she shoves my head from between her legs.
She crawls onto her knees as I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling. Naked and hard and feeling so fucking vulnerable. She moves towards me andI reach down and run a finger across her wrist. “Is it true?” I ask. The words hang there between us as she moves on top of me. As she straddles my hips and then slowly begins to bring me into her. “You can’t do this to me” she says and I begin to slowly slide into her as she lets her weight relax into me and she closes her eyes focused on me inside of her. “You can’t ask me that.” She begins to slowly rock her hips back and forth on my dick. “You asked me to be honest. I promised you I’d be honest.” I grab her hips and she begins to move more quickly. “You aren’t lying?” I ask as I feel her cunt grind into me and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. “Tommy. Stop.” and I stare at the ceiling and she collapses into me and still her pussy slides against me. Up and down me and her lips are pressed into my ear and I can feel her breath in what feels like my soul. “Tommy. I love you. You Love me. We’ll make it through“ and I know she means it and know she’s a fucking adult and she won’t let me ruin her life and my hands move over her ass and she presses her lips tighter against my ear and says it again and again and again. “Tommy. I love you.” And I trust that she knows. She always knows.
How do we get here?
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/fst5dp/fucking_my_waitress_part_iv_mf