face a mess of want and pleasure. Then I close my eyes, fucking the toy harder, faster, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.
HackOffMyBigCock: aww fuck bb im going to cum
I look over, read his words, and continue my barrage on the toy. “Where, Mike—where do you want it?” I keep my eyes glued to the screen, waiting for his response.
HackOffMyBigCock: swallow it
I pull abruptly off the toy, spinning around and grabbing it in my hands. The low angle causes me to lie down and I devour it, plunging it down my throat and staring up at the cam, jacking the cock off with my hand as I suck it, hard and fast. I moan encouragingly as I suck and squeeze my breasts, pulling gently on my nipples with my fingers.
There is silence for almost a minute, then a message.
HackOffMyBigCock: fuck that was hot. thx jess
------PRIVATE CHAT ENDED BY HackOffMyBigCock. 13min24sec
Thirteen minutes: $94.35, which, minus my personal website’s transaction fees, is $91.06 to my bank account. It pays the bills.
I roll over and heave to my feet, walk naked across the floor, grab a glass, and fill it with water from the sink. From inside the cabinet I take out the Tylenol bottle, leaving the cabinet open as I pop two into my mouth and chase them down with tepid tap water. My eyes flicker over the cabinet and the racks of orange bottles that fill its shelves.
Dr. Derek prescribes antipsychotics for me. They come like clockwork every thirty days in the mail. I don’t bother to tell him that I stopped taking them nine months ago. While they did take away my urge to kill, they also took away every intelligent thought in my head. When I watch old webcam videos from that time, I cringe. I was a zombie, moving through mechanical sexual motions, my face slack, words dead.
So I stopped taking and started stockpiling them. On the upside, if I ever do decide to kill myself, I have more than seven hundred pills waiting for me in this cabinet.
CHAPTER 17
WHEN I WENT to my grandparents’ house that weekend— the weekend—when Mom went mad and killed everyone, they were surprised to see me. That should have alerted me that something was wrong.
“Deanna?” My grandmother peered at me through the screen door, squinting as though she were having trouble seeing me. She pushed the screen door out, looking at me, then my suitcase, her expression confused. “Is everything okay?” I stepped forward, hugging her tightly, and planted a quick kiss on her soft, fragile cheek.
“Hey, Nana.” I reached down, grabbed my suitcase handle, and dragged it forward, toward the front door. “Mom said I was spending the weekend with you guys.”
Her face showed surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Oh! Well, come in, dear. Don’t worry about that suitcase. I’ll have your grandfather grab it.” She ushered me inside, pulling the farmhouse door shut behind us, the smell of mothballs and old books hitting my senses as I stood in the foyer and she scurried around me, turning on lights and adjusting the thermostat.
My family lay dead in our home for almost an entire day before a next-door neighbor, while on a walk, saw blood splatter on the kitchen window. The neighbor looked in the window and saw my sister, Summer, slumped over the kitchen table, a congealed pool of blood around her head. My grandparents and I were at a church dinner when the police came to notify us. They waited at the house, and when we returned from church they sat, two uniformed officers, on the porch, a black-and-white car parked near the mailbox. Nana clutched her chest as soon as we pulled in.
The men stood as our car came to a stop, and Papa put it in park. We opened the doors slowly, none of us wanting to know why they were here. As soon as I saw their faces, I knew they brought bad news. We all knew.
Nana held on to my grandfather’s arm, and they approached the two uniforms. I could see the weight of uncertainty and fear on my grandparents’ shoulders. I moved past them up the
HackOffMyBigCock: aww fuck bb im going to cum
I look over, read his words, and continue my barrage on the toy. “Where, Mike—where do you want it?” I keep my eyes glued to the screen, waiting for his response.
HackOffMyBigCock: swallow it
I pull abruptly off the toy, spinning around and grabbing it in my hands. The low angle causes me to lie down and I devour it, plunging it down my throat and staring up at the cam, jacking the cock off with my hand as I suck it, hard and fast. I moan encouragingly as I suck and squeeze my breasts, pulling gently on my nipples with my fingers.
There is silence for almost a minute, then a message.
HackOffMyBigCock: fuck that was hot. thx jess
------PRIVATE CHAT ENDED BY HackOffMyBigCock. 13min24sec
Thirteen minutes: $94.35, which, minus my personal website’s transaction fees, is $91.06 to my bank account. It pays the bills.
I roll over and heave to my feet, walk naked across the floor, grab a glass, and fill it with water from the sink. From inside the cabinet I take out the Tylenol bottle, leaving the cabinet open as I pop two into my mouth and chase them down with tepid tap water. My eyes flicker over the cabinet and the racks of orange bottles that fill its shelves.
Dr. Derek prescribes antipsychotics for me. They come like clockwork every thirty days in the mail. I don’t bother to tell him that I stopped taking them nine months ago. While they did take away my urge to kill, they also took away every intelligent thought in my head. When I watch old webcam videos from that time, I cringe. I was a zombie, moving through mechanical sexual motions, my face slack, words dead.
So I stopped taking and started stockpiling them. On the upside, if I ever do decide to kill myself, I have more than seven hundred pills waiting for me in this cabinet.
CHAPTER 17
WHEN I WENT to my grandparents’ house that weekend— the weekend—when Mom went mad and killed everyone, they were surprised to see me. That should have alerted me that something was wrong.
“Deanna?” My grandmother peered at me through the screen door, squinting as though she were having trouble seeing me. She pushed the screen door out, looking at me, then my suitcase, her expression confused. “Is everything okay?” I stepped forward, hugging her tightly, and planted a quick kiss on her soft, fragile cheek.
“Hey, Nana.” I reached down, grabbed my suitcase handle, and dragged it forward, toward the front door. “Mom said I was spending the weekend with you guys.”
Her face showed surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Oh! Well, come in, dear. Don’t worry about that suitcase. I’ll have your grandfather grab it.” She ushered me inside, pulling the farmhouse door shut behind us, the smell of mothballs and old books hitting my senses as I stood in the foyer and she scurried around me, turning on lights and adjusting the thermostat.
My family lay dead in our home for almost an entire day before a next-door neighbor, while on a walk, saw blood splatter on the kitchen window. The neighbor looked in the window and saw my sister, Summer, slumped over the kitchen table, a congealed pool of blood around her head. My grandparents and I were at a church dinner when the police came to notify us. They waited at the house, and when we returned from church they sat, two uniformed officers, on the porch, a black-and-white car parked near the mailbox. Nana clutched her chest as soon as we pulled in.
The men stood as our car came to a stop, and Papa put it in park. We opened the doors slowly, none of us wanting to know why they were here. As soon as I saw their faces, I knew they brought bad news. We all knew.
Nana held on to my grandfather’s arm, and they approached the two uniforms. I could see the weight of uncertainty and fear on my grandparents’ shoulders. I moved past them up the
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