Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
If a distance of some feet can feel as though it has been traversed in an instant and for what seems like an eternity simultaneously, that is what their trip over to me feels like. I watch them approach with a longing that suggests they can’t possibly arrive near me soon enough and with the shock of realizing they are already upon me all at once. I don’t try to stop them. Inside their determined stares is something I have rarely seen from anyone, and it is something that invokes in me a set of feelings I have perhaps never experienced before: Subservience. Compliance. A willingness to submit to whatever it is they require of me.
As the uncommon sensations wash through me, my two most constant companions reach me and Christine removes my cock from my own hand and places it instead in her mouth. I tense and shiver as the chunk, chunk, chunk of the train’s wheels barrels us along the tracks and through the secret privacy of the tunnel.
Danny slamming into her from behind forces her harder and harder forward until I am fully engulfed by her mouth and throat. The yearning, gurgling sounds she makes have forced me into something beyond a frenzy. An almost tantric state of euphoria the likes of which I have never known.
“Are you going to come?” I ask Danny, in an almost pleading way.
“Are you?” he says back, teeth gritted, challenging me.
And the answer is… yes. I can hold myself inside no longer. So I no longer try.
The hot stickiness pours free from me into Christine’s mouth and, as if in rehearsed coordination, Danny lets himself loose into Christine at the exact same time, causing her to pull back from me, swallow down my passionate expulsion, and scream…
Just as the train’s whistle blares, piercing the tunnel with its own screaming cry.
“Where are you going?” Christine asks, just emerging from the loo, hair still wet from her shower, wrapped in a fluffy, white robe with “OE” embroidered upon it.
“To find something to eat. Fokken famished,” I tell her, my hand on the doorknob. Not entirely a lie. I am feeling a bit peckish.
“How long until we get there?” Danny asks from the bed, splayed out on his back, still naked, lying across the cotton and gold-flecked duvet like a conquering emperor.
I look at my watch. “About fourteen hours. Try to get some sleep.”
Christine steps to me just as I’m turning the handle. “You’ll be back, right? You’re sleeping here?”
It’s not exactly accurate to say she sounds ‘worried,’ but there’s something. Some kind of need for reassurance there. At the moment we all seem to be stripped down to our most basic essences. The essential components of us. Whatever façades or armors with which we normally adorn ourselves tossed aside.
I know why. It’s because we’re close to the end. What that means precisely, I’m not sure, but I can feel that we are so close to reaching the conclusion of a long, arduous journey. One might be inclined to think of that journey as having begun when Christine tumbled from that roof, but it began long before that.
One might be further inclined to believe that it began when Danny left and Christine and I were alone and I abandoned her as I did after we lost our child. But it began long before that as well.
Even before we met, our journey was in motion. The kind of connection we share cannot be quantified by time as we understand it in the three-dimensional universe in which we apparently live. It is something ancient, passed down, inherited.
I am reminded of my great-grandfather and great-grandmother, the Zulu oke and the yarpie woman who defied all the odds and the laws of the time and braved everything to make sure they were together.
“Of course I will,” I tell her as I stroke her cheek, pull on the handle, and step into the hallway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I watch him walk out the door and I stretch my back out with a crack.
“Fuck, I’m getting old,” I say.
Christine, still looking after where Alec just left, now turns her attention back to me and says, “Who isn’t?”
She smiles and I wave her to come over and join my naked ass on the bed. She does. She saunters over and lies down beside me, wet hair splashed across my chest.
Jesus, I wish it could be like this all the time. I must make a sound to accompany the thought, because she asks me, “What?”
“What what?”
“You made a sound.”
“Did I?” I say. She nods. “What kind?”
Her wet head is still on my chest and when she speaks, the vibration resonates throughout my whole torso. How can another person feel this good? Dunno. But she does as she answers, “Kind of a ‘mmmmmnnnnnuuuuuahhhhhhhh’ kind of a thing.”