I AM FUCKING XII: The last time near Juan

My last story (The Darkness) was a link which summarized what consisted the last six years of my life before I moved to the city where I now reside. They were six years in which John accumulated debts because of his addiction to drugs and mismanagement in every business, legal and illegal, he had. His creditors not walked with nonsense and besides the beatings propinaban him, I used to me as a bargaining chip to defer payments … payments other hand, never did . He planned to do more stories in the series, but I have decided to cut their losses and have my last day living with Juan.

It was noon, and I had almost finished making the suitcase the room he had shared with John until last night. Juan was in the room, how there, doing nothing, in another world. The more active he was, he was talking on the phone and the words that he heard pronounce were something as “I need more time, I’ll pay you”, “I have met almost all, I swear” … and it was like not always lie. It was finished, acabadísimo.

I took a few months and working every day in one of the “safe houses” that had one of the bands that John owed money. I had to spend hours on the floor, and I did not pay much, but enough to survive: getting well have me watched. But I was tired of surviving as the limit of poverty. The house was a mess, working as many hours a day I could not take care of the house alone, and Juan was little more than a zombie a zombie … very dirty indeed. I was not all bad, but it was so decadent life and I was so helpless lugging their vices and debts, he saw the future too black. The decision was already taken some time, and there was no turning back: the money that the thugs were getting at my expense, so I could get on my own, so since I was a bitch, it would be for myself and not for others. He had a contact for renting an apartment in one of the largest cities in Spain, I took money that had been defrauding the mobsters (actually that money was mine), and taking advantage of knew that this day would not find me, I took off. I did not take all my clothes, I went with a small bag with necessities and hold luggage for a few days before to buy more clothes in my destination. Being summer, she did not need clothes that occupy too. So when the gangsters come the next day, they would not know I’ve gone forever, take longer to start looking for me and it would be easier to land in the middle and I lost the trail. Since wearing, besides underwear, a white top, very short jeans and high-heeled sandals. When he went out the door, John asked me where I was going and I told him that would go later. I returned all his lies with a single, one lie that perhaps condemn his death … Overall, if it was a matter of time, it might be better to be killed by a shot or a blow to the future that awaited him.

He was already opening the door of the house when the intercom rang. It was one of the mobsters, had a change of plans about me. The whole plan had gone to hell, it seemed that it would never escape that cursed house. I drew a plan to the hopeless, absurd, simple and with unimaginable consequences if it went wrong plan. I opened the gate, I left home, I waited to enter the elevator and started up when I started down the stairs as fast as I could with suitcase in tow. I figured that by the time the elevator go up, and I could have gone down to the first floor (it was a third), but did not tell her heels. I stumbled and fell, and when the elevator opened again on the third floor, I was lying on the landing of the second. The bully, I guess he had heard the fall, he looked down just outside the elevator, and there I found the suitcase sprawled on my left. I began to mourn: the fall did not hurt me much, but I felt anger because he thought he could never escape, start from scratch on my own

. The bully immediately guessed what was happening, grabbed my shoulders and made me climb back to the house. I whispered as I rose to be quiet, to go up quietly. he behind me, grabbed my bag and went back into the house. I thought she would never see that image: walk in the door and see the room full of newspapers, resvistas, leftovers, “turutos” (tubes of paper or cardboard that are used to get stripes) and garbage in general, Juan sitting on the couch like other trash spoil it were, and see the big picture again ravaged me completely. He kept sobbing, tears streaming down my cheeks and said bully me to relax, that he did not want to fuck a crybaby bitch. He went to the kitchen, poured two glasses of whiskey (and the house knew by heart), and pulled a marijuana cigarette a joint already. I said to go to the room, not wince for a moment. The truth is that had always been a guy very relaxed, other times he’d come he never asked me any fetish, and always had been brought -for case I never gave him reason to cabrearse-, but this time I had just catch on the run, and that is supposed to be what they hate most mobsters that debtors try to escape them; however, the bully at no time showed signs of anger.

Once in the bedroom, the bully glasses perched on a table, lit the joint, closed the door and sat on the bed offering one of the glasses, sipping his. I grabbed my drink and told me to sit beside me, to calm down, he could not fuck. I began to talk about the consequences of my temerity, that his band was not going to forgive just like that. I told him I did not care anymore, preferring to shoot me to live like this. Without a word we drank the drink and asked me few puffs of his joint, and when we finished sobarme started. He puts me on the bed on all fours and pulled down his pants and began to lick followed pussy. Occasionally he accompanied the licks with bites on his buttocks that were putting me cachondísima. I was so beside myself that when I knew it and I was getting my dick. I kept moaning, he wore a higher and higher rate also penetrated not lose their depth, and increasingly brought me closer to orgasm. But suddenly her cell phone rang and interrupted the striker hammer for a moment. It was by phone, he said he was talking about fifteen seconds in Russian and hung up. I made myself comfortable while waiting for it to end, and when he finished he told me why I had changed position, which put me as it was. React before he took my hips and put me back on all fours, his pants still made the knees. With one hand he pushed me back so put me in pomp, and started slapping me (spanking). When I was biting the ass slap both (he got me red as a tomato), he puts his cock in my back door, and started to push. I did not expect it, I caught out, and I felt a pang when he came all at once. He began to pick up pace gradually for at least one minute get back to the rhythm of before. The stinging sensation I was passing and pleasure grew increasingly appeared while the chilly feeling that gradually takes over my body when I receive anal sex, and it reaches a point that can not endure. Suddenly I felt, finally, orgasm made me faint. Then he left me, made me lie down on his back, he was placed on top and began to masturbate his cock over my mouth. I sucked the tip as he could and then ran over me, filling my mouth and chin and splashing my face with his semen spurts.

After that, he got up, handed me some tissues to wipe my and when I was already up, drew his pistol and pointed it at me. I understood at once that I was in my last breath, but he surprised me the gun down and saying that he was not worth risking jail settle accounts for a whore. I completely nervous, I asked what he would do then. He asked where he planned to go, and I said to the bus station. Then kept the gun, he said “get lucky” and left. I went to the kitchen, I drank a glass of water and grabbed my suitcase. When I was leaving, I asked John where he was going, gone just as before. I said I would go later. I have not seen, not even know if still alive.