Three Twisted Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

the door. And then her hands were all over him—fingers scratching through his hair, hand grabbing his ass and pulling him close.
    They never took their clothes off anymore. It was always fast. She was always ready. Charlie’s belt, his pants, his briefs, were ripped down. They were on the floor. Her skirt was up.Her bra was unclasped. Her legs wrapped around him. Her fingernails dug into his back.
    And then—nothing.
    She didn’t give up. She rolled on top of him. She bit his neck. She unbuttoned his shirt and licked her way down his chest. Charlie watched her work her way down. He’d put on some weight lately. His belly rounded off like the side of a barrel. The trail of hair from his navel disappeared like a roadway melting into the horizon.
    Charlie stared at the top of her head as she tried to get him hard. He’d never noticed before, but she bleached her hair. The roots were at least an inch long. How had he never noticed? Her bush was as black as Sambo. Her eyebrows were darker than his.
    He pushed up onto his elbows. “Look at me.”
    She looked up. Her hand was cupping him. His cock lay flat as a ballpark wiener against the hairy bun of his testicles. She asked, “What is it, Charlie?”
    “Your eyebrows,” he said. “You pluck ’em, right?”
    She stared at him for a few confused seconds before nodding.
    He studied the fine hairs of her eyebrows. There was an arch in the middle. It looked natural, but there was an art to it. Why couldn’t his daughter learn to do that?
    “Is something wrong, baby?” She took his hand and wrapped it around her breast. “Talk to me.”
    Charlie couldn’t support his weight on one arm. He dropped back to the floor. He stared up at the ceiling. She straddled him. He felt the firm rise of her breast. He stared at her perfect bow tie of a mouth. Her thin waist he could almost wrap both his hands around.
    He said, “I saw something bad today. A man died.” He swallowed. “Killed himself.”
    “Killed himself?” Her eyes went wide. “That’s horrible. Are you okay?”
    “I’m all right.” He was aware there was a catch in his voice, and he didn’t like it. He lifted up onto his elbows again. “Come on. Get off me.”
    “Baby.” She moved her hips, grinding against him. “What can I do to make things better?”
    “You can do what I said.” He bucked her with his hips. “Come on. Get off me.”
    “What are you—what did I—”
    “Get off.” He bucked her again.
    “What are you—”
    “Move!” He shoved her away. She fell back onto the floor. Charlie stood. He pulled up his underwear, his pants.
    “Charlie! What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
    “Just shut up.” His fingers wouldn’t work. He couldn’t get the belt to buckle. “If I wanted to be around a hysterical broad, I would’ve stayed home.”
    “I’m sorry.” She got up on her knees. She was begging him. “What are you doing?”
    “Leaving.”
    She put her hands over his. “Baby, don’t go.”
    He pushed her harder than before. She banged her head against the arm of the couch. The impact must’ve rattled something loose in her brain. Her voice turned hard. “I was just trying to talk to you, you asshole.”
    “Whatever, doll.” His head was aching like he was the one who hit the couch. His heart was thumping in his chest. He felt dizzy. His back was killing him. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t come here to talk.”
    “Tell that to your dingaling.”
    Charlie’s breath caught. The air froze in his lungs.
    He saw her do the quick calculation: the apartment, the clothes, the pocket money—all the shit she got in return for rushing through five minutes of fucking before Charlie scampered back to his wife.
    She stood up from the floor. “I’m sorry, baby.” Her smile was so forced that her lips looked like they were going to crack. “Let me make it up to you. How about we try that thing you wanted?” She turned around and rubbed up against him like a cat.