Chapter 4

The candles were burning: the electricity was cut off for non-payment. I was depressed at the time.

She came over, I fucked her without protection. When I went out for wine and came back, she was sitting on the bed naked, beautiful as you are now, a plaid thrown over her shoulders, sitting and talking on the phone, a woman's voice chirped something from the receiver, and she replied: 'I'm so happy now.

Fucking her again, your future parent is on her back with her legs spread, wrapped around her velvet elastic body, and at the moment of my orgasm she screams, eyes squeezed shut and chin thrust up, "I want a son!"

By now her body is shabby and hardly velvet-elastic. Mum has a scar on her chin, carefully hidden by concealer, from your dad's fist, so she said the last time we met, your dad had his hands on her, a rapist, so-and-so. Inevitably Mum changed in appearance as she got older, but God forbid, nothing lasts forever. But she made a child of heaven, you. Your mum's a good girl.

"Muscles blazing with pleasant fire, thoughts pure and dopamines dancing. Not for long, now and tomorrow morning will be fun, in the afternoon the negativity will return, nothing will change dramatically. In order to get out of depression, it is necessary to be engaged in creativity and to make, at last, a rock band, to realize our long-standing dream with Uncle Sid", I thought at the time.

By the next evening, I was getting discouraged: there was no point in sitting in four walls for months on end. Sid and I auditioned two newcomer musicians, took them into the band and went to the first rehearsal.

Mum came to the first gigs for a couple of months, bringing cognac, cigarettes, tinned food and bread. Money, small, but so necessary. Then, as you know, things went south for Led Wind and her place was taken by more status and prettier girls.

The accountant's lucky daughter dulled the depression with her pussy and skin velvet. Biorobots like us have hormones that point the way. Adaptable. I hope your mother stayed happy longer than the next afternoon after that night.

Arina whispers:

“Thank you. Poetic. Brutal. True. Poor Mum. You're a bastard. What happens next? Us.”

“You and me, we had a blast. I'll ring her, tell her it's all right, and you can go home. In the morning, the Great One's gonna sort it out with the cops. It's not criminal. I'll cover you from a hail of backhanded punches. With my safe and beautiful body.”

This little panther jumps towards me, aiming for my neck. Laughing, I duck and toss the little girl onto Gabe's couch. It's nice to fool around like this; little things like this, the wise men say, are probably what happiness is made of.

“But we'll call her tomorrow, now come here.”

Grab her backside, engulf her lips in a kiss, and she collapses against my chest. Spread her cover legs and enter her vagina, piercing her calf with mutual electric pleasure, growling like Max Cavalera:

We'll be together, even if we don't see each other often. I'm there for you, feel it always. Can you feel it? My good girl.

I tell the girls I fuck after whiskey. It's probably something from childhood, trauma, it's a lot of room for a psychologist.

Shit, they get attached, they remember, it works a lot. Subconscious compulsion. Enslave, conquer, subjugate. Conqueror instinct or fear? To capture souls so that my own personal buttock won't languish alone in the future, but rest in bliss. I suppose so.

Baby's belly on the pillow, I'm on top of her, pressing her slender body into the Gabe couple's marital bed. I just came inside her, cock still inside her, wet and hot. You've created not just a crazy rebel, but a pleasure.

Thank you for my daughter, she's so magical. Daughter. Daughter. What if. Other daughters. Brunette, Kitten, Waitress, Actress, you name it, other daughters. Daughters. Complete the images, reissue Bohemian Rhapsody, close the gestalts.

Arina sobs as I touch my lips to her damp lashes, her eyes, her cheek — through her wet hair.

Salt, these are tears, she cries. Open like a lotus flower, lips between rebellious shoulder blades. Subdued.

The wet, sweet, sticky scent of silky tanned skin.

Giving in to her own mother's former lover curves her neck, framing her kiss, smooth as a night wave in the silence. Droplets of sweat.

Abruptly I thrust, pushing my face into the pillow, starting the dance. The voluptuous fairy with the wicked eyes holds on to my hands with her fingers, as if afraid to fall through the bed.

Then slowly, with lube, I penetrate her rear.

It feels so good. Imagine, but theoretically it can be done with her future daughter, with her granddaughter.

I gently fuck, smoothly increasing the amplitude, and the seduced nymph with a groan bends her lower back.

Say in a chesty voice in her ear, stretching the words:

"Dreaming.

Dreamers,

"They'll never realize

And it's too late,

The damage is done."

One piece, dancing to the beat of the song «Dreaming» by Radiohead.

"...This is what happens,

Regardless of you."

Arina moans, and thoughts drift away for the thrusts to intensify. Her eyes roll up from the sensations, and the movements rhythmically bring her closer to the abyss of orgasm.

...They will never understand.