Her step mother winked slyly and slowly sauntered across the room to where her husband lay dying, her svelte body moving as sensually as a cobra being wooed by a New Delhi Indian flute player. At 42 years of age, she had a body that would still be enviable to a well endowed 20-year old woman. She was very young in comparison to the old man and smiled to herself as she thought, you old prick! I've been waiting a long time, almost 20 years for you to drop dead. Although she found it revolting, she took his old withered hand in hers, stroked it tenderly, leaned over his emaciated body and lightly kissed him on the forehead.
The old man's blue eyes fluttered open once again; an ugly rattle easily heard within his wrinkled throat. He gazed at his pretty wife as she wiped away the drool with the corner of the bed sheet and mumbled, "I've regretted a lot of things in my life, but marrying you isn’t one of them."
Her smile flashed triumphantly on hearing his words and she replied, "I feel the same way. I’ve loved you almost since the first time I ever laid eyes on you and it’s only grown stronger over the past twenty years."
The old man continued looking at his wife and when he asked her to lean nearer so she could hear him better, his son and daughter moved in closer as well – they didn’t want to be left out should he divulge the map’s whereabouts. However, instead of saying anything about the map’s location, much to the bewilderment of his wife, her smiling face suddenly turning into a state of shock, he quickly slid his hand inside the top of his wife's low-cut dress and began fondling one of her large, firm breasts. Straining for breath, his lungs on the verge of playing out, he uttered, "I'm sure going to miss these big tits."
His wife almost pulled away from her dying husband in disgust but quickly determined, one last feel couldn't hurt as long as he gives up the map’s location. "Yeah," he croaked. "I sure don't regret marrying you. You were a great piece of ass. I lied about only having a short time to live and about my age too. I wasn’t 92; I was only 72 when we got married in Vegas. And that terminal disease – no disease – I was as healthy and horny as an over-sexed ox.”
His wife gasped, jerked his hand away from her breast and tossed it angrily onto his bony chest like a damp worn-out dishrag, "Well, aren't you quite the old guy?” she snidely remarked. “You really are what you said you were a long time ago; just a dirty old man; a dirty, disgusting old man! And to think I gave you the best years of my life!”
A wisp of a smile creased the old man's purplish tinged lips and his blue eyes sparkled even more than before as he quietly murmured, “I had to lie; a beautiful young gold-digger like you, with a hot, sexy body to enjoy whenever I felt the urge, would never have married the likes of me if they knew I wasn’t an old man on the verge of dying. You thought you were real smart, I didn't have too much time left but I fooled you, didn't I?"
The old man's blue eyes fluttered open once again; an ugly rattle easily heard within his wrinkled throat. He gazed at his pretty wife as she wiped away the drool with the corner of the bed sheet and mumbled, "I've regretted a lot of things in my life, but marrying you isn’t one of them."
Her smile flashed triumphantly on hearing his words and she replied, "I feel the same way. I’ve loved you almost since the first time I ever laid eyes on you and it’s only grown stronger over the past twenty years."
The old man continued looking at his wife and when he asked her to lean nearer so she could hear him better, his son and daughter moved in closer as well – they didn’t want to be left out should he divulge the map’s whereabouts. However, instead of saying anything about the map’s location, much to the bewilderment of his wife, her smiling face suddenly turning into a state of shock, he quickly slid his hand inside the top of his wife's low-cut dress and began fondling one of her large, firm breasts. Straining for breath, his lungs on the verge of playing out, he uttered, "I'm sure going to miss these big tits."
His wife almost pulled away from her dying husband in disgust but quickly determined, one last feel couldn't hurt as long as he gives up the map’s location. "Yeah," he croaked. "I sure don't regret marrying you. You were a great piece of ass. I lied about only having a short time to live and about my age too. I wasn’t 92; I was only 72 when we got married in Vegas. And that terminal disease – no disease – I was as healthy and horny as an over-sexed ox.”
His wife gasped, jerked his hand away from her breast and tossed it angrily onto his bony chest like a damp worn-out dishrag, "Well, aren't you quite the old guy?” she snidely remarked. “You really are what you said you were a long time ago; just a dirty old man; a dirty, disgusting old man! And to think I gave you the best years of my life!”
A wisp of a smile creased the old man's purplish tinged lips and his blue eyes sparkled even more than before as he quietly murmured, “I had to lie; a beautiful young gold-digger like you, with a hot, sexy body to enjoy whenever I felt the urge, would never have married the likes of me if they knew I wasn’t an old man on the verge of dying. You thought you were real smart, I didn't have too much time left but I fooled you, didn't I?"
When he began chuckling, almost laughing loudly, he suddenly gagged, grimaced in pain and squeezed his eyes shut. As he choked for a lung full of air, another long rattle from deep within his throat escaped his gaping maw.
His wife, her temper flaring hotter than the flames of hell yelled at him, "Don't you die yet you old prick! I gave you 20 years of the best fucking you ever had, the least you can do is tell me where the god-damned map is. You owe me that much!"
The old man's eyes fluttered open, tears cascading down his deeply creased cheeks and jeeringly spluttered, "You...didn’t...give me...the best fucking...ever. But…I sup…pose…I owe you… that much.”
His wife, her temper flaring hotter than the flames of hell yelled at him, "Don't you die yet you old prick! I gave you 20 years of the best fucking you ever had, the least you can do is tell me where the god-damned map is. You owe me that much!"
The old man's eyes fluttered open, tears cascading down his deeply creased cheeks and jeeringly spluttered, "You...didn’t...give me...the best fucking...ever. But…I sup…pose…I owe you… that much.”
His mouth straining to form words, he gasped, “You'll...find...the map...inside your...”
Desperatly waiting for him to continue, afraid he was going to die before he told his secret, his wife yelled at him as if he had suddenly became deaf, “Come on! Don’t quit on me now old man,” his wife harshly yelled. “Hurry up; tell me where you hid the map! The map! The map! Where’s the fucking map?”
“Pink...sneakers," he gasped. And upon saying that, his gaping toothless mouth desperately struggling for one last suck of sweet air, his wife, son and daughter heard the final death rattle sounding his demise within the damp depths of his old throat.
His wife stared down at her dead husband lying on the bed, then looked at his son and daughter in disbelief and quizzically declared, "What the fuck was the demented, crazy old bugger jabbering about? I don't have and never have owned a pair of god-damned, pink sneakers - I HATE fucking pink!"
His wife stared down at her dead husband lying on the bed, then looked at his son and daughter in disbelief and quizzically declared, "What the fuck was the demented, crazy old bugger jabbering about? I don't have and never have owned a pair of god-damned, pink sneakers - I HATE fucking pink!"
I hope anyone who has read Pink Sneakers had a little chuckle or a good guffaw out of my little tale - I know I did. I'll post other short little stories as they come to me - cheers - eh!
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