Perfectly Loved

by Lacey Silks

  “Shh!” I called, before returning to her swollen bud. She muffled her next scream into a pillow, shaking underneath me. Millie was so beautiful, and I couldn’t stop kissing her hot spot until she physically pulled my hair and I had no choice but to work my way back up her body. My hard dick reminded me of what I wanted as soon as it felt the apex of her slick opening.

  “You’re ready?” I asked. “Don’t you need a break?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Now. I need you now.” And that’s how I learned that Millie liked me inside of her soon after coming. She lifted her knees and parted them to the side.

  “Hold on.” I reached for the packet I had set earlier underneath one of the pillows, tore through the plastic, and rolled the rubber on myself.

  I lined up, slowly moving forward. I didn’t want to hurt her, and hopefully all that lubrication on her pussy would be enough to ease the pain. Her face was in awe as she looked at me expectantly.

  “Tell me if you’re hurting.”

  “No, it’s good. Real good.”

  I moved forward, feeling her tightness around my crown, sliding in slowly. She shut her eyes for a moment and I stopped.

  “Keep going,” she encouraged.

  I slid in further, watching different emotions pass over her face the deeper I penetrated her, until a tear slid out of her eye, and I stopped again.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m just happy.” By that point, I was almost all the way in, and slowly backed out.

  “Don’t. Just stay with me a moment like this.”

  “Are your hurting?” I asked.

  “Not anymore. It just feels… full. Very full.” She smiled. “And wonderful. I love you, Dave.”

  “I love you too, Millie.”

  Once her hips began twitching and rubbing against me, I slid in and out of her, feeling her satisfying tightness around me. I eased my motions, slowly making love to my woman. It didn’t take long for me to come inside her the first time. Or the second time. Apparently, we needed a lot more practice with sex so I could last longer. In my arms that night, she looked the happiest I’d ever seen her. We didn’t talk much because we didn’t need to. What we communicated with our bodies said it all. It must have been late by the time we felt too exhausted to move. My muscles ached; hers probably hurt as well. And I just didn’t want this night to end.

  “You know it’s gonna be hard to top this birthday.” She snuggled into my side and finally closed her eyes.

  “As long as you’re with me, I’ll take that challenge.”

  “Okay,” she yawned. I covered us with a blanket, and after making the most perfect love once more, we finally fell asleep.

  Chapter 13

  Millie

  “Hobo!” the kid at school shouted as I passed. I grabbed my books out of my locker, lowered my head, and left. The day was finally over. One battle down, one to go. As I crossed the threshold of this new foster home, I thought about which was more difficult: school, or going back to the foreign house I was forced to think of as home. I often wondered whether the family I had celebrated Christmas with would have adopted me if it weren’t for my mother coming back. I hadn’t seen her since the trailer burned down, and while I now understood that she wasn’t the best kind of mother, I still missed her. I missed her smell and her arms when she pulled me into her body. She may have been a druggie, but she looked out for me the best she could.

  Week one at this new home, I only got weird vibes. Week two, Mr. Withers asked me to wear white t-shirts more often. I didn’t have enough money to buy a bra yet, but the next board payment that came in would be specifically for undergarments.

  Week three, I saw that look in his eyes, the one I saw on the men who came to fuck my mother at the trailer. Desperate and horny.

  “Come here, Millie.” He wiggled his finger in a come-hither motion. I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped forward. He sat on his chair, his pants cutting at the waistband and his belly spilling over. “Turn around.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked you.”

  It was one of his last requests I fulfilled.

  “I got something for you.” He pointed to a skirt on the chair.

  Mr. and Mrs. Withers didn’t have any kids. It made living there easier in that respect, but it also meant that their attention was completely on me – especially Mr. Withers’.

  “Go on, put it on.” I grabbed the skirt and turned to go to my room. He rose from his chair and grabbed me by my wrist. “Change here.”

  “Like hell!”

  I ripped my hand out of his grasp and ran out the front door. Some neighbors down the street took me in for a few nights. I didn’t want to tell them what happened, so they did the only thing they could and called Child Protective Services. But I didn’t go back to that house again.

  My hope to have a home had crashed and burned again. I was sure I’d never have one unless I built it for myself.

  Was Timothy in a better place?

  Present time

  I hated stuffing the turkey, and I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to convince myself to buy another murdered bird each year. As a vegetarian, I wouldn’t even touch the meat. But knowing Dave, he’d fill himself until he couldn’t move, so I was sure there wouldn’t be any leftovers. Sometimes I wondered how he managed to remain so fit and taut; all muscle in all the right places and not an ounce of fat. It was likely that Fate was giving me the finger again, because if I stuffed myself the way he did, I’d resemble a mammoth.

  As soon as the turkey was in the oven, I went out to the cold storage the boys had dug out one summer by the house and picked up a butternut squash for baking. It would go well with dinner instead of potatoes. Next was my succotash salad with baby lima beans, corn, grape tomatoes, basil, and parsley. Once that was done, I rolled up my sleeves to get a start on the pumpkin pie. Getting lost in the cooking instead of the air saturated with Dave everywhere was exactly what I needed to keep my focus off him and my panties dry.

  Soon the kitchen was overflowing with cans, jars, bowls, and containers. Mrs. Bowers had wanted to help me, but I was afraid that at her pace it would take us a week to make all the food I had planned. Now she sat in her chair, knitting, a hobby I thought she’d stopped a long time ago due to her waning sight.

  “Isn’t that hard on your eyes?”

  “Same as standing on your feet,” she said.

  “I thought you had vision problems.”

  “Hence the glasses, dear.”

  Oh, my God! What was wrong with her? She called me dear! I stopped scooping out the pumpkin filling into a bowl and just stared at her.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “You’re being nice. Why?”

  She laughed. “I’ve always been nice. It’s just your perspective that changed.”

  “And I’ve always liked meat,” I barked back.

  She chuckled, shaking her head.

  “I remember when you used to like a specific kind of meat.” She looked at me, and my jaw dropped down to the floor. Was she saying what I thought she was saying?

  “Of the male variety, if you don’t get my drift,” she added.

  Yeah, I got her drift. Thankfully, Dave was outside, clearing the last of the dying plants out of the garden.

  “Oh, come on. Not before dinner,” I whined, before adding, “You may not believe this, but the last thing I want to think about when I’m having sex is your advice. Besides, your prune probably hasn’t seen the light in a while.”

  “I bet my prune is way more experienced than yours.”

  I bet it is. But experience and expertise were two different things. Add to that a few decades of aging and… oh, God! I really regretted picturing the Bowers having sex.

  “I was good at it, you know. If that’s the problem with Dave—”

  “Sex was never the problem, Mrs. Bowers.”

  She looked at me funny, as if trying to figure out the mystery of our sudden
breakup eight months ago.

  “Am I the only one who sees how good you two are together?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Wait… are you into girls?”

  “No, I’m definitely into men.”

  “Can’t get more man than Dave Mayers out there.” She pointed to the window. Beyond, I could see him tearing up the garden. His shirt was stained with sweat and dirt, and he still managed to look hot. The surprising Indian summer the past two days, with this El Niño weather, was heating up way more than the atmosphere. I had a feeling winter would surprise us this year at the most unexpected time. “Believe me, I’ve seen a few in my time, and Dave is one of a kind – a good-hearted, home-raised man.”

  Yeah, I already knew that. But it wouldn’t matter if Dave were royalty. My problem wasn’t with him. It was me, and the trouble I brought to those I loved. I couldn’t put a bull’s eye on Dave as well. My actions had hurt enough people, and I was meant to live in grief and heartache for the rest of my life.

  “Wait… Mr. Bowers wasn’t your only love?” I asked. Maybe if I swayed her attention away from Dave I’d stop being distracted.

  “Oh, he was. But we started out on a rocky road, just like you two.”

  “How?”

  “Well, believe it or not, I was a bit stubborn.”

  I couldn’t help the grin.

  “Just like you,” she added, and my smile faded. “I had this idea of a perfect world. I wanted to live out in the country, grow organic vegetables, and if I could, run naked through the fields in the summertime, bathe in the stream down the hill, and live on air. Let’s be honest; I was stupid.”

  Why did I have the feeling that she was referring to me? “So, you changed?”

  “Not really. I realized eventually that the world was far from perfect. And it was almost too late. See, sometimes you need to let go of your ideals and the things that you think are right for someone else. If you love them, you’ll let them in. You’ll change your ways. And they’ll change theirs. It’s called compromise.”

  “I know what compromise is.”

  “But you don’t know that it comes in all shapes and sizes, just like we do. Tim used to want to live in the city, but he moved out here with me.”

  Why?

  She saw my questioning face and laughed. “Oh, you don’t know love until you see the sacrifice someone has made for you.” She focused on the window as well, just as Dave wiped the sweat off his brow and looked our way. “I might not have been running around naked, but I lived in a home that was passed down to me from my parents, and that was important to me.”

  So this home came from her side of the family.

  “I don’t want to hurt Dave. It’s hard to explain what happened.”

  “You don’t think I hurt Tim by refusing to live in the city, where he loved to be? Of course I did. And he hurt me as well. The point is forgiveness and not spending all the minutes you have left on Earth by yourself. Trust me, it can get pretty lonely.” Mrs. Bowers stood up from her chair and shuffled her old feet my way. I felt bad for her and wished her daughter could have been closer to the old lady so that she’d have family. Come to think of it, maybe we were more alike than I liked to admit. We’d both lost our blood relatives and clung to the Mayers family, making them ours. Did I want to be alone at her age? I didn’t think so. But did I have a choice?

  She dipped her finger into the pumpkin pie filling and licked it off. “Pretty good. Almost as good as mine.”

  “If you can cook, why don’t you?”

  “I like watching you do it. You have energy. Besides, you’re the one who threw me out of my own kitchen.”

  I pushed the bowl aside, to where she couldn’t reach it. Dorothy the cat hopped back inside through the cat door in the garage.

  “She looks bigger than last week. What have you been feeding her?” The cat wobbled toward her owner. “Do you think she could be pregnant?” I asked.

  “How should I know? Dorothy, did you give that pussy to anyone?” She picked her off the floor and placed her on the couch, stroking her gently.

  I washed my hands and dried them before coming over. “Let her down. I wanna see her.” I sat beside the kitty and touched her swollen tummy. Something moved underneath my palm, and I yanked it back toward me. “She’s got kittens in there.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Did you have her fixed?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s possible.”

  “She’s been leaving the house a lot lately,” she said before bringing her face closer to her cats. “Are you putting out?”

  “Maybe she’s leaving the house because she’s looking for a quiet place to give birth.”

  “What’s wrong with my place?”

  I just shook my head. Was this really the first time Mrs. Bowers had owned a cat who had a litter?

  “We should call a vet,” I said.

  “Nobody’s going to come on Thanksgiving.”

  “I didn’t mean today.”

  “Well, you should have said so.”

  This woman was driving me crazy. Why had I wanted to come here in the first place? That’s right – because I felt sorry for her. And I wanted to find out about the old house.

  “Why did you name her Dorothy?” I went back to the kitchen and washed my hands for the umpteenth time. At this rate, they would start cracking in the cold wind. Mrs. Bowers followed me in, dipped her finger in the batter again, and sucked it clean. I pulled the bowl away from her.

  “Because there’s no place like home. And if Dorothy ever gets lost, I hope she’ll have enough sense to find home.”

  Home. Such a simple notion, yet one I’d always strived to find… and failed.

  “You said Tim hurt you. How?”

  She motioned with her finger for the bowl and I frowned. Mrs. Bowers started walking back toward her couch.

  “Fine, but no double dipping.” I pushed the bowl back to her.

  She spun on her heel as if she were at least three decades younger and stuck her finger, the one she’d had in her mouth just a moment ago, back in. “Too late.”

  “Argh, gross.”

  “Don’t have a cow. The germs will die when it bakes.”

  “That still doesn’t make it right.” I swept the bowl away before she got a chance to dip her slimy finger back in. “So, what did Tim do?”

  “He married another woman. Well, almost.”

  “How was that even possible? Mr. Bowers loved you so much.”

  “Of course he did, but back in those days the clock was ticking, and we wanted a family. It always broke me to know that I could never give him what he sought. I tried, but our daughter…”

  She looked down to the floor, her eyes glossing over. I went around the counter and covered her left hand with mine. She took the opportunity to dash to the other side and stick her finger in the pumpkin pie filling once more.

  “You’re a witch,” I said to her.

  She cackled but paid no attention to me until I grabbed the bowl and held it under my arm, away from her.

  “Why would Tim marry another woman?”

  “I didn’t need a ring on my finger to be committed, but Tim did. It meant more to him than me. I delayed and delayed and never gave him a sure answer about our future. I was just afraid he was after my family fortune.”

  “What fortune?”

  “This land.”

  There couldn’t be more than ten acres, so I wouldn’t exactly call it a fortune. Oh, my God – perhaps she meant the other land with the old house as well. I wasn’t sure how to bring the subject up without letting her know that I’d been snooping around her other house the past week, but this was as good a time as any.

  “What you may not think is valuable now was back then,” she added.

  “Okay, keep going. Marriage?”

  “I finally realized that I loved him enough to make him happy and marry him. I stopped his wedding to another girl just
in time.”

  “You didn’t?” I had my eyes wide open, waiting for her to finish up the story.

  “I walked right into that church full of people and told him she had crabs.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand. “No way.”

  “And then I pointed to a random guy and told Tim I’d seen them in bed together.”

  Holy-mother-of-crazy! “I knew you were nuts, but I didn’t think those screws were loose in your head when you were young. What did Mr. Bowers do?”

  “He just stood there, completely bemused as I caught my breath. Then he walked down that aisle, took my hand, and left the church with me. We eloped. His family wouldn’t have another shamed wedding.”

  “You’re so bad! Oh, my God! I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Then imagine Gwen and Dave facing each other in front of a priest.”

  What? I felt my nose scrunch up. Maybe I could see myself stopping a wedding after all.

  “Not a nice image, is it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Does it hurt here?” She pointed to her heart, and I nodded.

  “Then don’t wait until it’s too late. Listen to this old fool and make some babies with that man out there before your eggs dry up. For heaven’s sake, he came here to be with an old gray woman, out of the goodness of his heart, on Thanksgiving. I doubt you can do better than that.”

  She sat back down in her chair. It took me a moment to grasp what she was saying. Could I really live through Dave’s wedding to someone else? I didn’t think so. It seemed wrong. Way wrong. I felt my heart palpitate and my hands shake. I quickly rinsed them under the tap and dried them on my apron. This was way too much to think about now. Maybe this was a good time to ask her about the land.

  “Mrs. Bowers, did you know the people who lived in the abandoned house down the road?”

  “Nothing worth thinking about.” She waved her hand. “They were a bunch of turds, if you ask me. Wouldn’t let the old woman cut the trees down on the east side.”

  “So why is that property in your name?”

  She froze, and a look of surprise and then sadness stole over her eyes. “I’m the witch? What malicious evil have you been up to, child?”