All Chapters of Foster: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

It's then that I finally begin to move inside of her like I've wanted to all day — and slowly but surely, I begin to fuck her; and though it feels so wrong because she means so much to me and I'm being... anything but gentle, she gasps with what's a failed-to-be-suppressed moan and I can't stop. Then, with my arms still hooked beneath hers, I lift a hand to clutch the back of her head as she settles in the nape of my neck, and I fail to feel anything but the pure hunger that sparks when the tightness and dampness of her inexperience greets the extremity that least deserves it. 

Though throwing crinkled articles of clothing quite aggressively into a straw-woven hamper is in fact a method of cleaning up, it doesn't seem to be the most effective one. Half of my shots miss and the other half stick the landing on the very rim of the hamper, hanging limply half-in and half-out, much like my will to live. And though the only reason I'm doing this is because I'm considerably pissed off, the results of my efforts are just pissing me off even more. Why can't anything fucking go right?

Before I can talk myself out of it, I want to lift my hands to his chest and shove him away — and so I do. Though I know the words will be strong, I can't physically bring myself to mean it, let alone believe it; "You don't get to do that whenever you fuck up — you're a man, not a child," But I want him to do that. I want him to kiss me and tell me he doesn't hate me when he can't physically speak the words... but it's something perhaps his girlfriend would say, being old and mature. Maybe if I can bring myself to carry myself in the way she does, he'll love me just as much. "Though I'm not too sure of that anymore,"

Close as in we share a bed every now and then, if you know what that means. If I say something, I'll say too much. I don't want child protective services to show up at the front door, even though I'm not a child anymore. But I'm not his daughter legally and yet he's the only one who can sign off to pull the plug if I'm in a coma... that leaves some responsibility to the government. So instead, I'm just nodding. "Let me buy you a beer, Sasha," I open my mouth to reject the offer and yet I can't bring myself to do it... James is asleep and I need a friend — from what I can tell, Scott is as good a friend as any so far. "Not because I want to talk you up but because you look like you need one right no

When I hear a sound from the back door, I know immediately that it is Sasha, the girl I heard little more from than a missed call since the screaming match of last night. A petty criminal couldn't locate the back door with a flashlight and a map in the early light of the morning through all the undergrowth and grips and throws of plants from the brick wall against the gate to the exterior wall of the side of our house. Not only that, there would be a chorus of footsteps trying to make their way through the narrow walkway given — only Sasha would know how to sneak through and open the door without making noise. Furthermore, only she would not know how to close a door silently. I meet her in the hallway before she can make it to her room. 

"I should have defended you, Sasha -- believe me, I know that,"Her lips are plump and her eyes are wide and bright when she finally speaks again — both from the effects of crying, I suppose. She's not crying anymore, is that a quick assumption? The tears have ceased in the very least, though her breath is still uneven and shaky as if attempting to make a recovery from raw sobs. I really wish she'd let me hold her; there's nothing I want more in the world right now. I want her to be in my arms and I want to be able to silence each and every cry and muffle everything outside of only herself an

My eyes hold hers as she stands beside me. I can't help but trace down the dip of her dress and notice she isn't wearing a bra. She never does. It kills me. I wonder, does she have panties on? "Just an old book," and she peers over my shoulder and scans the page. She must be bored or tired from studying as she clasps her hands behind her and rocks in place with a large and fixed gaze. God, she's gorgeous. I'll never treat her like that again — I'll never let her be treated like that again."Can I read it?" and I wordlessly lift the book towards her with one hand and a small and distant f

Before I can stop myself, I make the promise I'm afraid I won't be able to keep — but I know that despite capability, it will be with all of my will and power that I make sure the words ring true. Words of; "I won't let it happen again," -and then she's reaching between her legs and I feel her hand as she shifts back the fly of my jeans and I can feel it even more as she encloses around the bulk of something left at unrest without her and she effectively frees me from my pants. In no more than a moment, she's guided my hand out from inside of her and instead into her open mouth as she shifts herself on top of my eager and standing member... Her mouth quickly closes around the fingers and her teeth graze the skin, I can feel it all, as she embraces me eagerly.

He's using me for sex. He's using me for sex. He's using me for sex. He's using me...It feels so damn good to zone out and stare with the world in a blur and my eyes -- I didn't sleep well last night, staring into space and an inability to maintain a focus at all are sure signs of sleep deprivation. I tried to wait up for Damon and the time he got off his shift last night, yet all I remember is watching television fully clothed and waking up in pyjamas in my own bed... he must have found me and tucked me in last night; yet even if I crashed, why am I still s

As I'm left alone, I'll have to wait a minute or so until I move to leave, simply because the toilets are in the very direction Scott made his retreat to. If I go after him, it'll be awkward if we meet again, specifically because we've already said our goodbyes. I hate when that happens; when you say goodbye but you're travelling in the same direction — it was even worse in high school; mainly because I hated everyone and wanted to be done with them. It doesn't go that way when you make a joke or two about taking the same exit after having a parting word. Maybe I'm just not the best with social interactions.