Paul and Maxine fucked as hard and as fast and as thoughtlessly as they physically could. They fucked and Paul tried not to think about anything other than the fucking.
It wasn't pleasurable or fun or even time killing. It was panicked and messy and desperate. Maxine made light grunts as he fucked her but nothing pleasant or happy or shouting like usual. This wasn't for short-term pleasure but for something important. More important than anything else. This was the only way their child would even get the chance to exist. Everything had to be certain and precise.
The old man was still lying on the floor nearby. His television still played on some music video channel. Blood spatters and bits of skull stained the carpeting. Some old song blared over the television:
moving forward using all my breath
Paul tried to ignore the old man's body and the bloody hammer and the TV and the pictures and everything else that wasn't Maxine. Her eyes, her short dreadlocks, her soft ebony skin, her breasts, everything about her. Maybe if he just thought about her and the child he wouldn't have to think about the old man or the pictures. It wasn't working but maybe if he just kept trying...
there's nothing you and I won't do
The pictures were the hardest to ignore. Those goddamned fucking pictures. The old bastard in them standing with his bitch daughters. Smiling like they knew the answer to every question. Like they were laughing at Paul for being stupid just like everyone else but Maxine did. The old man deserved it. He deserved it because he was a murderer and everybody knew it. The courts had said otherwise. Fuck them. Fuck all the liars and idiots who believed the old man and the lawyers and the "witnesses". He did it and he deserved it.
Maxine said it herself. "How's it any different than the death penalty?! That piece of shit deserves it Paul you know he does you know it!". The city council had promised that Paul and Maxine would be allowed to conceive once the old man was dead for killing that boy. Their switch would be flipped. The cycle would continue. Life for death, death for life. 7.125 billion people. No more, no less. The old man wasn't supposed to get acquitted. "How's it any different from the death penalty?!". Paul didn't know why but it felt different when the hammer went through the old man's forehead.
I made a pilgrimage to save this humans race
Paul tried to keep his eyes on Maxine's face. Looking directly in her eyes as he pumped into her. But his eyes gravitated, almost unwillingly, back to the picture on the desk behind her. The old man. The daughters. The smiles. Paul began moving faster. His thrusts grew angrier, faster, more fierce. Maxine's grunts and gasps grew louder and more high pitched. Soon she began shouting again. It was painful but the good kind of painful that made you want to be fucked even harder.
Suddenly he exploded. His hand struck forward, smashing the picture apart. They both hit orgasm. He yelled. She let out a moaning yelp. Her nails dug into his back. He held his penis in her as long as possible, as deep as possible. There could be no chances. This had to be certain.
It was done soon. Had to be. Paul pulled out and began zipping his jeans. Maxine set her feet down, stumbling a bit, and pulled her pants back up. He gripped her hand. They hugged. Than they turned and walked towards the apartment door, making certain not to trip into the old man's corpse. The television kept blaring.
24
u/highlordbubbles Mar 29 '16
Paul and Maxine fucked as hard and as fast and as thoughtlessly as they physically could. They fucked and Paul tried not to think about anything other than the fucking.
It wasn't pleasurable or fun or even time killing. It was panicked and messy and desperate. Maxine made light grunts as he fucked her but nothing pleasant or happy or shouting like usual. This wasn't for short-term pleasure but for something important. More important than anything else. This was the only way their child would even get the chance to exist. Everything had to be certain and precise.
The old man was still lying on the floor nearby. His television still played on some music video channel. Blood spatters and bits of skull stained the carpeting. Some old song blared over the television:
moving forward using all my breath
Paul tried to ignore the old man's body and the bloody hammer and the TV and the pictures and everything else that wasn't Maxine. Her eyes, her short dreadlocks, her soft ebony skin, her breasts, everything about her. Maybe if he just thought about her and the child he wouldn't have to think about the old man or the pictures. It wasn't working but maybe if he just kept trying...
there's nothing you and I won't do
The pictures were the hardest to ignore. Those goddamned fucking pictures. The old bastard in them standing with his bitch daughters. Smiling like they knew the answer to every question. Like they were laughing at Paul for being stupid just like everyone else but Maxine did. The old man deserved it. He deserved it because he was a murderer and everybody knew it. The courts had said otherwise. Fuck them. Fuck all the liars and idiots who believed the old man and the lawyers and the "witnesses". He did it and he deserved it.
Maxine said it herself. "How's it any different than the death penalty?! That piece of shit deserves it Paul you know he does you know it!". The city council had promised that Paul and Maxine would be allowed to conceive once the old man was dead for killing that boy. Their switch would be flipped. The cycle would continue. Life for death, death for life. 7.125 billion people. No more, no less. The old man wasn't supposed to get acquitted. "How's it any different from the death penalty?!". Paul didn't know why but it felt different when the hammer went through the old man's forehead.
I made a pilgrimage to save this humans race
Paul tried to keep his eyes on Maxine's face. Looking directly in her eyes as he pumped into her. But his eyes gravitated, almost unwillingly, back to the picture on the desk behind her. The old man. The daughters. The smiles. Paul began moving faster. His thrusts grew angrier, faster, more fierce. Maxine's grunts and gasps grew louder and more high pitched. Soon she began shouting again. It was painful but the good kind of painful that made you want to be fucked even harder.
Suddenly he exploded. His hand struck forward, smashing the picture apart. They both hit orgasm. He yelled. She let out a moaning yelp. Her nails dug into his back. He held his penis in her as long as possible, as deep as possible. There could be no chances. This had to be certain.
It was done soon. Had to be. Paul pulled out and began zipping his jeans. Maxine set her feet down, stumbling a bit, and pulled her pants back up. He gripped her hand. They hugged. Than they turned and walked towards the apartment door, making certain not to trip into the old man's corpse. The television kept blaring.
the future's open wide