A tragic end of a holy night
A tragic end of a holy night.
The bed shimmered in red roses, the bedroom
overflowed with a romantic scent and slow, juicy and caressing music
illuminated the house in the background. John’s wife, Natalia, whispered to
herself with a smile, “looks like It’s going to be a holy night indeed, a night
of juicy pleasure.” She was standing at the door, her eyes completely defeated
with a blush and her mind hearing seductive songs that stimulated her feelings
to the highway of kiss and blend.
Out of nowhere, John slowly walked behind
her, with only a red bath towel concealing his private parliament: he firmly
grasped his soothing hands onto her cleavage and kissed her craving neck all
the way down her illuminated butt. She knew what was about to happen: a holy night
had begun and its pleasure had already kidnapped her soul and mind.
Like a magnet, her heart begged his hands
to stay glued to her body, she prayed he wouldn’t dare stop kissing her - she
wanted more, she couldn’t resist him, she was lost in his magical-touching arms
and didn’t mind him licking her entire body for as long as the pleasure
existed.
Intentionally and willingly, she had given
him her all and he didn’t disappoint her when the pleasure started soaking and baptizing
her on the rosy bed of cuddle. She aggressively clinched the helpless bed
sheet, sighed seductively, screamed halleluiah for more, firmly caressed his
flaming muscles, bite his hot veins - pretending to resist yet she enjoyed the juiciness
as much as he did.
He had ignited a gust of fire in her, a sensational polish that erased all her woes and convinced her that it would not end, that this was heaven that had landed on her bed while she was the earth under her dazzlingly sexy husband.
Suddenly, John began exhausting his drive and
gasping for thirst and deadly fatigue - she was starting to feel it: the end of
a holy night. John was excelling in running short of breath, farting like a diarrhea
stricken child and posing owl eyes that painted a horrific end. Natalia didn’t
understand; she felt dishonored, petrified and excellently bored until he
finally gave his last breath and slept carelessly on her.
In her mind, her husband’s sudden collapse
was a sign of weakness, that he was perhaps no longer a complete man who could
couldn’t keep a woman satisfied long enough in bed. Moved by tragic fury, she
dragged her husband away from her sperm-baptized body by his gray hair and
clicked her frustration by the tongue.
“Weak man! Weak man! You can’t last at
least five minutes for the first round,” she complained.
John’s mysterious silence and motionless
state of his body caught her attention and made her believe the tragic of the
moment: John had not collapsed; he had gone to the land of no return.
Electricity of panic took over her heart and trembled her entire body while her
eyes poured endless rivers of wail but a silent John still lied there in her
arms, naked and lifeless.
She couldn’t believe it, old age sex had
killed her husband and she partially blamed herself for it. Without notice, neighbors
were invited in the house by Natalia’s explosive screams, with many of them
shooting bullets of blame against Natalia - labelling her as a potential wizard
who used sex for ritual murder. Though she vividly and defensively explained
what had taken place, they did not buy her story.
Before the police landed on the scene, the
fuming neighbors had dealt with her: they smashed her head in half by two
steel-strong rocks that quickly forced her to follow the fate of her husband
and two corpses resulted from this tragedy.
Although the community was convinced that
they had done justice to the late John, they had in fact done disgrace and
malice because little did they know that John had died out of his gray hair
crisis and dysfunctional old age during the holy night of pleasure.
691
words……………………………………………………………………………………………By Blessing Mhlanga
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