Kill Your Family

This virgin gig is getting old. It’s been two years and I haven’t fucked her yet. I lay awake at night and jerk off on her ass. Miriam is such a heavy sleeper that I’m able to wipe her clean and she’s none the wiser. She never bothers to smell her own ass in the morning, so I’m off the hook. Her chastity only makes me want her more, even though I stopped asking for her ass, mouth and cunt six months ago. She says she is saving herself for marriage, that bastard son of imprisonment. That government contract defining love and togetherness. She wants to wear white on her wedding, but if she knew how pretty her ass looked with the slightly off-white colour of frustration goo she may reconsider.

Every night I get closer and closer to her pussy, but I would never penetrate her without her consent. I love her and want to be with her forever, but marriage just isn’t for me at this moment.

There was a sun shower that morning. It was humid in the kitchen when she emerged from the bathroom.

“Yousef, I’m pregnant.”

I went into a rage, yelled at her, and called her a whole book of names. Some made up and some I’d heard around the neighborhood. She cried all day and I finally started to believe her eyes. Her Parents were livid until her Grandmother, some bullshit gypsy mystic that everyone seemed to follow the every move of, said it was a miracle. They built bonfires, danced, chanted and I zoned out. While they celebrated what they thought was going to be the greatest birth in a thousand years, I sat blank faced and mentally smacked myself for getting a little too close one of those nights a couple of months ago.