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The uncle she’d known had become her father. That day, through the keyhole of the bathroom we’d shared for ten years, my obsession spun into madness. I was the only family she had left in the world and I had given in to the evil I’d fought off for too long.
I want to hold her ankles wide as I press every monstrous inch of what God gave me into that tiny body of hers, but I’m sure I’d damage her beyond repair if I tried.
Mentallyandphysically.
I want to suck on her dripping tits, taking her sweet milk directly from the source instead of hiding as I drink from the bottles on the machine after she pumps. Taking the machine from her after every session, assuring her I’m only focused on making sure everything is clean and in working order when she’s done.
I’m sick. I know it. But that doesn’t change the urges. The compulsions.
The evil inside me is only tempered by one thing.
Love. I’ve loved her since that first day, but love takes many forms and the privilege of raising her should have been enough for me.
It was not.
I want all of her. From now until the end of time. Every inch. Every sweet taste and vicious scream as I mount her soaking cunt on my face and demand everything from her.
As I lurk in the shadows, Marcy wraps her in a quick hug, then she and David scurry off holding hands, leaving her standing there alone as she scans the raucous crowd. The thump of the music getting louder. There are no stars tonight, the sky a blank chalkboard waiting for the story of my love for Ruby to be written upon it.
The only problem is, I can’t write and I can barely read. That’s a secret Ruby does not know. A shame I carried with me as I watched her graduate Valedictorian of her class, unable to read the program or the printed version of her graduation speech.
I made it through school because I was quiet, and in rural towns, working the farm is more important than earning a diploma. Keeping an able-bodied young man in school any longer than necessary is met with scorn from the farmers and most of the teachers knew the unwritten code.
Books don’t harvest crops or milk cows.
I fight the urge to run to her. To scoop her up and carry her away. But my angel never disappoints.
Seconds after her so-called best friend left her standing alone, she’s heading for the front of the field where I already know the old truck I re-built for her is parked. It may look rusty and run down, but it’s more reliable than any new car on the market, I made sure of it.
I tug my phone out of the front pocket of my overalls, flip it open and stare at the dark gray screen. I hate cell phones and computers. I don’t understand them or humanity’s need for constant input. The world has enough experiences to last a lifetime, just watch an Indiana sunset across a corn field after the rain.
Beauty is everywhere. But instead of enjoying it, everyone is turning into zombies looking at their phones, watching everyone else live instead of going out and doing it themselves.
Stupid.
I relented on cell phones when I gave Ruby the truck. No way was I risking her possibly being out of my sight and not having a way to call on me. So, outside of electricity at the house, an old console TV with rabbit ears that picks up the few local stations left broadcasting, these phones are the closest I come to technology.
My phone is silent in my hand. Ruby is the only number I have. The only number I need.
I pray for her calls. I need to be the one she comes to with everything. But after a minute of waiting, the lights of the truck pull out and down the dirt road toward town. All my senses are on high alert. She’s almost out of my sight.
I don’t bother trying to hide anymore. I barrel out of the woods toward my truck parked at the edge of the others. My boots hit the soft ground at a fevered pace as girls scream and the crowd shrinks back from the monster emerging from the dark trees.
I bear them no mind. No one on this earth exists for me except Ruby.
Thanks to the light drizzle, the hood of my truck is slick as I slide across, reaching for the handle on the driver’s door and swinging it open, heaving myself behind the wheel and roaring the engine to life, Following the dots of her red taillights down the pitch-black dirt road.
With my dick as hard as stone.
CHAPTER3
Ruby
“Why am I so passive?” I hold the steering wheel at 10 and 2, just like Eli taught me as I lean into the curve in the road that goes passed old man Betre’s place.
I hold my breath for the next quarter mile because he’s just spread manure on his fields and for as many years as I’ve lived here, I can’t make myself inhale all those cow poop molecules floating in the air.
Do people know that’s what creates smells? It’s the molecules of whatever it is wafting around you to breathe in.
