Sin Dolores

***Hello Hello... it's been awhile. Here's another short story (actually it's kinda long LOL). Just something I was feeling that I had to get out. Hope y'all enjoy it. As always feedback is appreciated!***

Sin Dolores

Fuck my life man, here she goes again. Dolores let out a sharp sigh of annoyance as she earmarked the page in the thick AP Economics book she had been reading. She shut the book harder than necessary and rolled over closer to the edge of her bed. She sat there for a minute with her head hanging forward looking down at her toned caramel legs dangling off the bed. I swear I can't do this anymore. Why does she have to start with this every time I have something important to study for? She's always goin on and on and on and on and oooon about how well she wants me to do and she's definitely just TOO damn happy to brag to anybody who will listen to her ass, when I get an A and shit. You'd think she'd learn how to hold this bullshit inside at least a little by now. Just a little! She pushed her untamed, thick, mid-back length, perfectly spiraled curls out of her face and slid off the bed.

The sound of her mother's sobbing became louder as Dolores made her way towards the living room. The smell of dry, cheap chardonnay and fresh cigarette smoke swirled around the room. The combination of the two smells formed a repulsive odor that over the years Dolores had come to associate with the onset of her mother's "episodes".

"What's wrong Mama? Why are you crying?," asked Dolores, trying to muster up as much concern and sincerity as her razor thin patience would allow her voice to carry at the moment. "Oh Mija, I didn't mean for you to hear me like this," her mother said, her breath reeking of the cheap chardonnay. Yeeeahfuckinright, Dolores thought. "I'm so sorry," her mother choked out through alcohol soaked sobs, "I'm just wondering why I should even be alive anymore. I have nothing to live for." Dolores could feel herself clenching her jaws and the all too familiar tears threatening to build up and overflow from her tear ducts. She hated when her mother got this bad. She noticed the emptied bottle of wine on the floor by her mother's foot. She must not be on her meds, Dolores concluded. I wonder for how long. "Mama, don't talk like that, okay? Please? I know you're feeling sad right now, but you know you're gonna be okay." Her mother began to cry harder causing her to slump forward slightly on the couch. Dolores stood in front of where her mother was sitting, looking down on her, wishing silently in her mind that either she or her mother would teleport to another place and time. She looked around the room as if looking for a way out. Her eyes stopped at the wall behind the couch. It was decorated with professional portrait photos of Dolores at various ages and a few of Dolores and her mother. She noticed how happy and full of life her mother looked in the photographs, particularly one Dolores vaguely remembered taking. They were at the beach, her mother was sitting in a beach chair gazing down with a smile of content at the three year old version of Dolores curled up on her lap. Little Dolores was completely wrapped in a brightly colored beach towel save for the few unruly curls that escaped confinement, and suckling her thumb as she looked up at the camera. The sun was reflecting off the naturally bronzed skin of both mother and daughter, creating a soft glow around them in the picture. The moment in time had been captured so perfectly it could have easily been mistaken for an advertisement in a magazine. Daddy must have taken this. My life was so good before he took off, she thought. The mother let out a sharp gasp as she sobbed causing Dolores to avert her eyes back to the distraught, fragile, little woman in front of her. She studied the top of her mother's head as she continued to cry. Dolores had the same thick, dark brown almost black, untamed, curly hair as her mother. While staring at the intertwining locks of hair, she was suddenly caught in another memory of being a little girl nestled in her mama's arms and methodically twirling her mama's curls around her tiny little fingers. She would stretch the curl to its full length, let it spring back to its natural state, stretch it out again, and then wrap the strands around her finger to reform the curl. Playing in her mother's curls had always made Dolores smile.

"No. No I'm not," her mother’s voice pitifully interjected into her thoughts, "this time I'm gonna really do it. I'm going to kill myself. I can't stop them from saying it. So they must be right. I have to do it. Then everything will be better for everyone. Do you want me to tell you how I'm going to do it?" Her mother reached for her daughter’s hand and pulled her to sit down beside her on the couch. Dolores sat down and let out a sharp sigh, making no to effort to hide her disgust. "No Mom I don't want to know because you're not going to do anything. You know this and I know this, so I don't see what's the point of even sayin you're gonna do it. If you were gonna do it you wouldn't even say anything. You'd just do it." “That’s what you think Mija. I never wanted to be a burden to you. It shouldn’t be like this. You’re 17. You have so much to live for. Everything about you is beautiful. I can’t control the thoughts anymore. They just keep coming, no matter how hard I try to drown them out. I’m draining your life and I just can’t keep living knowing I’m killing your spirit.” Dolores disdainfully stared at her mother, studying her as if she were trying to figure out who this crying nutcase was disguised as her mother. In all of the near 18 years of life, she had never seen her mother this off base or delusional. “MOM, STOP TALKING LIKE THAT!” Dolores startled herself with how loud she had raised her voice. “I can’t deal with you talking like this all the time. This getting drunk and crying routine is what’s a burden to me, Mom. You don’t take your medications and then have these big over the top and toooootally unnecessary crying fits when the voices and thoughts get to be too much. Why in the hell can’t you just try to avoid all of this and just take your damn meds?!” Her mother stared blankly at her daughter with tear glazed bloodshot red eyes. The weight of the tears that had been welling up since she entered the room had become too heavy for Dolores to contain anymore. Her face was flushed and her ears were hot. She could feel each teardrop as it took it’s turn exiting her lower lid, sliding down the curve of the apple of her cheeks, and eventually off the edge of her face altogether. She wanted her mother to fall off the edge altogether. She wanted to fall off the edge altogether. She wanted one of them to fall off the edge altogether. It was getting to be far too much for her to handle her mother’s psychotic outbursts, in addition to trying to maintain a normal high school senior’s responsibility. She had finals coming up in eight weeks and graduation quickly approaching. She didn’t want to have to worry about anything more than which dress she was going to wear to the ceremony, or what university life would be like. Instead for the past four years she had been dutifully watching over her mother: making sure she took her meds, she went to her doctor appointments, and making sure she didn’t wander off when she’d enter into her delusions. She had become the parent in this relationship. This is so goddamn unfair, she allowed her mind to hiss at her. She looked at her mother in disgust, but felt her face twisting up and stopped. Dolores knew in her heart and her mind that it was not her mother’s fault that she was a schizophrenic. “Who in their right mind would want to deal with this and have to be away from a girl as beautiful as you?”, she recalled her mother asking when she first tried to explain her illness to Dolores seven years prior. “I wish I wasn’t sick Sweetheart. I wish I could be a better mommy to you. I’m going to go away for a little while so I can try to get better.” Dolores remembered how she had cried the day her father took her to visit her mother, who at the time (unbeknownst to Dolores) had been checked into a psychiatric ward after a failed suicide attempt, when she found out her mother wasn’t going to be coming home as she had promised.

The pain she felt then was the same pain she felt now. It was an icy cold pain, that both warms and freezes at the same time causing the senses to resort to feeling numbness to avoid feeling the intensity of the pain. It hurt to be in so much pain she was numb. No wonder she named me Dolores. Either she knew life wasn’t gonna give me nothing but pain or she knew she was just going to be pain in my ass she thought, laughing to herself at the irony in the Spanish meaning of her name, “pain”, her life and her and her mother’s relationship. There had definitely been more pain than anything else, especially after her father had left for good five years earlier. He said in a brief letter he would later send, he couldn’t deal with his wife’s illness anymore and he didn’t want to separate his daughter from her mother. For the first two years, Dolores felt he should have taken her. She had long since stop thinking about it.

Despite her acknowledgment and understanding of her mother’s lack of fault in having this illness and her own unwillingness to abandon her mother like the rest of the family had, at the moment she was tired of dealing with it. Dolores raised her hands to wipe her face. She sniffled a little and then after a moment said in a quiet, almost defeated tone, “Whatever Mom. Do whatever you want. I’m over all this. I can’t do it. I’m tired.” She got up off the couch. “I think you should go to sleep and sober up. The alcohol isn’t helping you.” And with that she turned to walk back to her room. “Dolores, I’m sorry. I really am. I wish I could fix all of this. I wish your mother wasn’t crazy. I love you, Sweetie.” Her mother’s words followed her down the hallway but were met by an already shut door.

It was 6:26 AM. She had been awoken out of her sleep because she was coughing. As she walked toward the kitchen to get a bottle of water, she saw the light from the TV in the living room flickering. Mom must be up. She better have taken her medications. I hope for both our sake she’s feeling better because I’m gonna end up going crazy too. She half smiled at the thought of her and her mother sharing a room in a psych ward. As she approached the living room she said, “Morning Mom did you--” Dolores didn’t finish the sentence. On the couch her mother was sprawled out, her mouth caked in almost dry mix of blood and vomit. She had cut both of her wrists. Dolores began crying hysterically as she began to process what she was looking at. She touched her mother cooling body in disbelief. And frantically cried, “No Mommy please Mommy Mommy Mommy please no you didn’t Mommy NOO MOMMY MOMMMMY!! You didn’t. OH God MOMMY NO, WHY MOMMY GET UP! WAKE UP!” Her mother’s lifeless body was heavy against her. She backed away from the couch, in shock unsure of what to do. Her mommy was gone. She had really done it. Dolores instantly felt regret for thinking the night before of herself and the thoughts of wishing her mother would either go away or get better. The intense wave of regret caused Dolores to fall to her knees, dry heave and vomit. She could think of nothing but I’m the reason she’s dead. I gave up on her. She thinks I gave up on her like everyone else because I told her whatever. I killed my mommy. Dolores sobbed uncontrollably. As if in a daze she moved to the couch and her mother and sat down. “Mommy I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I swear Mommy, I didn’t. I was just being stupid. I’m sorry I was so worried about that dumb ass dress I wanted. I’m sorry Mommy”, she hoarsely whispered through her tears. Dolores saw the chef’s knife her mother had used to slit her wrists laying at her mother’s side. She picked up the knife which was stained with both her mother’s wet and dry blood. “You were right to name me Dolores Mommy. I know nothing but pain. I am pain. I wonder what the world would be like if there was no pain. Sin dolores.” And with that, Dolores pressed the blade against her neck as hard as she could and moved the blade quickly, yet deliberately, across her throat making a gentle gurgling sound as the life drained out of her.

Trying Something Different-ish

**Normally don't put up any of my shorts... for what reason? I dunno. But I decided to throw one out there and see how it vibes with y'all.**

Body Talk

I lift my head off the pillow to get a better look at the red glowing numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the table next to my bed. It’s 2:12 in the morning and I can’t sleep. As I lay here, wondering why in the hell the sandman hasn’t come to get me yet, my mind drifts to the seemingly endless list of crap I don’t want to do later when I get to the office. Even though being junior partner at the financial consulting firm I slave for has been beyond good to my bank account, the stress of managing my clients and overseeing the files of my subordinates is more than enough to keep me awake most nights. I pick up my phone checking to see if I have any missed calls, emails or texts. As I scroll through my texts, I pass over his name. I want to call him but I already know that would be a waste of free anytime minutes because he’s not going to answer. Our cat and mouse situation has pushed me to the brink of near madness over the last few months; especially since it seems I’ve fallen into the unfamiliar role of the cat. I had realized some time ago that I was eating my adopted philosophy, “Don’t chase em, just replace em”. I really hate that shit too. Probably because I can’t justify my reasoning behind wanting to give of myself to someone who doesn’t have the time to really give me what I want. Despite the numerous dates, discussions and nights spent together, I still wasn’t getting what I wanted. My frustration with this has grown over the past few months, at times more with myself than with him. I know better than to get caught up or catch feelings like I’ve allowed myself to. But unfortunately, much to the dismay of my emotions and my circadian cycle, I did and I have, and now I’m lying here at 2:27AM with wandering thoughts of him and pondering as to how the hell this is all going to play itself out.

I put my phone back down and I let out a frustrated sigh as I roll over onto my back. I close my eyes in an attempt to lure my racing mind into unconsciousness. But instead the urge to feel him in between my thighs suddenly overwhelms me… so much so that I can feel the blood flowing to my pussy as my body gives in to the deliciously seductive thought of him touching me. My nipples tighten up and get hard enough to slice through glass like a heated knife through butter. I slide my hands up under my pale blue tank top and palm my smooth, ample, soft yet firm 36DD cup tits. I grab them deliberately, the way he would. The warmth of my palms against my frigid nipples sends an electric chill across my chest and down my spine causing the delicate skin to pucker up, dotting my breasts with goose bumps. I rub and squeeze my nipples between my forefingers and thumbs as I imagine him sucking and circling each with his tongue. My breathing deepens a little and I let out a long slow sigh of pleasure as I give into the feeling. The sensation from me playing with my nipples, and the accompanying thought, makes the walls of my pussy contract and relax. I can feel my clit swell as it starts to wake up wanting to me to include it in this impromptu playtime as well. I gladly oblige in my body’s requests and pull the black short shorts I’m wearing to the side. I glide my fingers along the outer surface of my freshly waxed place. I slide my middle finger up my slit the way he does right before he fingers me. The slickness from my wetness allows my fingers to glide effortlessly around the hood of my clit. I use the same teasing motion he does when he’s trying to get me in the mood. My clit is fully engorged now and I use the slightly sticky wetness that’s steadily dripping from my sex hole to caress and encircle it. I think about the way he licks and sucks on my pussy when he’s got his face down in my place. He always moves his tongue as if he’s having a private conversation with her in a language I’m not meant to understand but rather through her translation I’m able to feel. The perfectly powerful and gentle motion of his tongue and lips around my clit never fails to have me gripping and clawing his sheets, as if in doing so I’ll somehow be able to escape from the overwhelmingly intense yet pleasurably tolerable dialogue he’s having with my pussy.

C’mere rude boy boy can you get it up… I must have completely fallen asleep and be dreaming because I know that can’t possibly be him making my phone ring. Not at 2:57 in the morning. I slide my hands out of my shorts and pick my phone. “Babe you up? What are you doing?,” the unexpected text reads. Jilling off while I think about you, is what I think, but I reply, “Nothing really. Just laying here. Tired as shit but I can’t sleep. What are you doing?” “Thinking about you. You too tired to come over?” “No I’m good, I’ll be there in a few.” “K.”

I pull up and park in front of his house fifteen minutes later. I can still feel the wetness from earlier as I walk up the driveway towards his front door. I turn the knob already knowing he’s left the door unlocked. I close and lock the door behind me and make my way down the hallway to his room. He’s lying in bed already, shirtless. The only light in the room is coming from the TV mounted on the wall. “Hey,” I smile. “Hay is for horses,” he counters. I exaggeratedly roll my eyes but laugh softly at the more than familiar greeting. I slip out of the light gray sweatpants and black jacket I threw on over my sleepwear as I was leaving my house. I pull back the covers on my side of his bed and climb in. I snuggle up right next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. Instinctively he wraps his arm around me, his hand resting in the deep sway of my lower back. I love laying against him like this; the rhythmic sounds of both his heart beating and relaxed breathing are soothing, comforting really. As irritated as I can get with him and the purgatory-like, in limbo, indecisiveness of our “relationship”, the quiet moments like this make me forget about all of that, temporarily at least.

I look up and kiss him on cheek and then again closer to his lips. He turns his head so that my lips meet his. This kiss is an open invitation for him to keep going. He parts my lips with his and I suck gently on his bottom lip. He moves me onto my back and slides his hand underneath my shirt and deliberately cups my 36DD tit in his large hand. The warmth of his palm against my frigid nipple sends that electric chill across my chest and down my spine causing the delicate skin to pucker up, dotting my breasts with goose bumps. He rubs and squeezes my nipple between his forefinger and thumb as he begin sucking and circling the other with his tongue. My breathing deepens a little and I let out a long slow moan of pleasure as I give into the tantalizing feeling of his body touching mine. I reach my hand out searching his dick and I when I find it can feel it throbbing and solidifying as the blood rushes into it. I stroke him with strong, sure movements, applying a little more pressure as I reach the head. He lets out an almost inaudible low groan that tells me I’m doing it just the way he likes. Not to be outdone, he slides his hand from my tit into my shorts to the top of my love slit. “Mmm someone is excited,” he says coyly. I smile. He purposely brushes against my pulsating clit as he slowly slides a finger into my wet, invitingly warm pussy hole. I moan with delight as he works his finger in a “come here” motion against the roof, stroking my G-spot. He slides in a second finger making my walls tighten involuntarily. I can feel the wetness increase as my body gets excited. But I refuse to let him make me cum yet.

I gently push his hand away from my place and sit up. He knows what I’m doing because it’s what he has wants me to do. He lies back. I climb over him and position myself between his legs. His dick is rock hard and standing fully erect through his boxers. Just looking at it in anticipation of taking all of him into my mouth is enough to make my mouth water. I pull down his shorts and lower my head onto his head guiding him to the back of my throat, moving my tongue as I work the length of his shaft. “Shhhiiit babe,” he moans. I methodically suck and lick him. I swirl my tongue around his thickness, periodically focusing on the head flicking it and then sucking it forcefully while bobbing my head up and down like I’m listening to a song with a heavy bass line. He’s not even attempting to stifle his moans and groans anymore. His hand is on the back of my head, not pushing but rather just resting, enjoying the movement as I go up and down and up and down. “Damn baby, you’re gonna make me nut.” The throbbing in my mouth confirms this and I slow down all the way. I’m not ready for him to cum yet. I lift up my head and wipe away the extra saliva and his pre-cum from my lips. In an animalistic manner he flips me onto my back, pulls off my shorts and pushes my legs open to expose my sideways smile. He gently spreads my lips and licks and flicks my throbbing clit. The one simple act makes me fall into a state of ecstasy and I feel like I’m outside of my body. He begins to move his tongue along the outside of my pussy hole and back around my clit, beginning his private conversation with her. The mixture of his saliva and her wetness is dripping down the round of my ass cheeks, surely creating a wet spot he’s going to try to make me sleep in. I push his face further into my place and grind against his mouth as he rolls his tongue against her. “Fu-uck,” I exhale softly through clenched teeth. I feel myself about to climax and grab at the sheets bracing myself for the eruption that’s about to take place. “Fuck fuck fuuuck I’m bout to cum,” I half breathe half scream. “Give it to me.” That’s all he needs to say. I give it to him, every last drop of it. The intense wave of satisfying ecstasy the orgasm inflicts upon me makes me shake uncontrollably. I’m gasping for air trying to regain my composure since I know we’re not done.

He brings his face up to mine and kisses my deeply. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and I taste the remnants of my pussy juices. As we kiss, I stroke his dick and gently pull him towards my dripping, plush, warm opening. He puts the head in, slowly so as to let her stretch to accommodate all of him. Keeping his mouth on mine, he swallows my moans. He pushes the rest of him inside of her and she welcomes him with a tight squeeze that causes his eyes to close and his face to contort in a manner that turns me on even more. My legs are spread into a wide V allowing him to penetrate and grind against me deeper than I ever thought possible. It’s almost as if he’s trying to mesh and meld himself into me until separation is no longer an option. As if to grant his unspoken desire to be one, I reach my arms up around to his shoulders and pull him further into me. I want him to tenderly fuck the hell out of me. And he does. He starts with slow long strokes moving in… and out… and in… and out. The slick friction of our bodies sliding against each other, both internally and externally, feels so damn good I feel like I might die from the sheer raw pleasure of it all. It’s like he’s sexing me with more than just his physical parts. We’re moving in sync with not just our bodies but our minds and souls. All three aspects are having an unspoken conversation that only he and I understand. He quickens his stroke, thrusting into me inandoutandinandoutandinandout. I dig my nails into his back because I’m incapable of moving to reach for the sheets. I lift my hips and flex the muscles of my walls rhythmically around him, keeping time with his movements. He gazes down at me with the look that lets me know he’s about to cum, which I expect because of the way I’ve been flexing. That always gets him. I feel that familiar pre-climatic sensation and my toes involuntarily curl as my body gets ready to submit to the passionate build up. I let out an incredibly loud screaming moan as my body releases the entire last little bit of energy I’ve been holding onto. In the state of unconscious awareness that takes over as I orgasm, I hear myself yell out several sacrilegious phrases mixed up with the words “fuck me”, “shit”, “harder” and “ooh damn”. My feet flex upwards and I grab onto him pulling him in deeper and harder as I buck and grind my hips uncontrollably. “Fuck I’m cumming,” he breathes heavily. He thrusts into me like he’s trying to go through me. And with the last stroke releases his hot, creamy, thick, sticky load inside of me. The involuntary shaking in my legs tell him I’m thoroughly satisfied. He’s slightly shaking as he comes back into his body and it tells me he’s just as satisfied as me.

As I come back down from the high of exploding from the inside out against his hardness, I lay there reveling in the delicious aftermath of what we’ve just done my skin still moist from the sweat we worked up. I turn my head towards the red glowing numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the table next to his bed. 4:28AM. I turn my attention back to him. He’s lying on his back, softly snoring but I know he’s not knocked out yet. I move myself closer to him, and situate my body against his so that I’m lying with my back to him, on my side with my head resting on his inner arm and my butt cheeks are pressed against him. As if on cue he awakens enough to turn over and spoon me, his free arm now wrapped around my waist tightly pulling me closer to him, his fingers interlocked with mine. He lifts his head, kisses me gently on my neck, and then drops back into sleep. I smile with contentment and right before I close my eyes to give in to the undeniable sleepiness that has finally come for me, I think to myself This may not be what I want, but this is what I need. He is what I need. This works. We work… at least for now anyways.

I close my eyes, sink back fully against his warmth and float into sleep.