Twenty-three.  

     Adam'd been partying all night, and now the sun was up, and he waited in Amparo's kitchen for her to do a few things before they went into her bedroom to fuck. This was a small house he found himself in, and it had the warm feeling of a home. He saw lunchboxes on the kitchen counter. Schoolchildren lived there, probably her children.  

     Amparo came out of a room and closed the door behind her.

​     "You need to use the bathroom?" she asked.  

​     "I'm fine." 

     "Let's go." 

     Once on her bed and out of her shoes, she more or less attacked him, shoving her tongue down his throat, tugging at his shirt to get him to take it off. He sensed it wasn't passion she was feeling so much as the need to just hurry up and get the whole thing over with. Amparo was a fat one. She had mounds of flabby flesh everywhere. Like almost all the women he'd had in his life, she wanted to be on top, at least in the end. Her pubis was thick and black as bear fur. She didn't look at him as they fucked, but instead at some blank space in the middle distance. As she closed in on her climax, she bore down on Adam's cock and gripped his shoulders and made an "aaa aaa" sound. Big ass cunt. He barely felt her at all down there, just this wetness. Adam didn't come, but he pretended like he did. He went soft as soon as she slid off him, so she didn't know the difference.    

     When her breath returned, she said, "You want some coffee or something? I can make us some."

     "I'm fine. Thank you."

     Angel's going to kill me, he thought. I'm going to have to hide in the garage of our apartment complex until she leaves for work.  

     He had to find his car to get home, and he had no idea where his car was. In some tavern parking lot somewhere? As he looked for it, he felt warmed, then heated, by a house on fire that he passed, red flames licking the sky.  

                                                      CONTINUE