The Heart of Revenge Read online

  “Leee...Leee...” dragging his words and begging,

  “Let mi push it inside you, pleeeaase.”

  My slender fingers held his cock firm, squeezed it, aimed it to the center of my slit, cringed my face to feel his entry, released his kong and left it standing stiff in the air behind me for him to delve into my wetness. He entered me slow. The swollen head pierced its way through. I uttered a silent, ‘Ouch!’. A sweet pain. I felt a tearing pain of his big hood parting my pussy lips. He shoved himself far into me, fucked so far down inside me, a Digicel phone could not pick up signal. I grunted and breathed hard, a loud sexual breath of satisfaction, a delicious pain. I felt his hugeness filling me up, filling me up in places I had no idea a man could reach with a penis. It felt insanely good, the pleasure it made me feel inside doesn’t stay steady, it ran from my belly to my spine, to the tip of my fingers, to my toes and exploded with an earthshaking blast ontop of my glistening clitoris. Can’t say everyone describes the feeling the same, the sensation you feel every time you reminisce on the greatest sex you ever had. The orgasmic feeling it brought into your body. A feeling so strong you can feel it in your body literally whenever you think of it. A feeling so powerful you seem to re-live it everytime you get horny. I don't know your word for it but I know it feels fucking good, the best feeling you can ever have bolting through your body, like a ping pong ball, hitting one pleasure spot then rolling down to the next, twisting your legs, twisting your face, curling your toes, even if you don't want to act a fool, you still do, you have no control. Pleasure takes over your body, you remember grapping the sheets, screaming his name, pulling him in deeper, kissing him hard, him biting your neck, licking you with passion, fucking you so deep, so good, you bite the pillow, moaning in your pillow, wanting it hard, harder, harder, more, thinking how good fuck feels, never wanting the feeling to end. Just remembering that feeling makes you breathe deeper, you get aware of your breathing, aware of your heart beating faster, you get aware of your body reacting to that feeling, your nipples get hard, your vagina reacting, getting wet. He sunk it deep and stroked his loin smoothly into me, his hugeness fucking me hard. Fucking me deep. Kept going in and out. Ohh, that feeling. Speeding up his strokes, grabbing me tighter, grabbing around my waist, fingers gripping into my waist, pulling me back as he pushes himself forward, fucking me harder, groaning, his thighs muscling, slapping into me, the feeling, the feeling, the feeling taking me over. I shut my eyes tighter, forced my body backward to meet his lengthy strides, damn that feels good, sliding down his thick warm cock, oh damn. I bit my lips, I’m not just wet, my pussy must have took a dive in the pool because it was fucking soaked. The smooth feel of his veins running against the inside of my flesh, the feeling of having someone inside, someone this big, this good. Oh God! I’m in heav... Halleluyah! Praise God! DAMN! I felt a ferocious belly cramp, a pang of pain echoing at the bottom of my belly, I felt my period coming down. Damn, he’s big! The feeling built up. I didn’t want him to stop stroking but I couldn’t bend low anymore it’s too much pain, I wanted to stop. I didn’t want to get caught doing this in the bathroom, I lifted my back somewhat and like a hoola-hoop the haunting thought of my brother was coming back around in my head again. I couldn’t do this. I tried straightening myself up, my wedding gown fell off my back. Yes, my wedding gown. My long white wedding gown fell to the floor.

  CHAPTER 2

  God in her Heart

  by: Leelia Lexings

  I looked at the bathroom door, my heart raced and worry enveloped my mind tight. I was having a change of heart, I don’t want to do this, Oh my God, I shouldn’t be doing this. I would die if my mother should catch me. She’s in the livingroom, just down the corridor. Of all the family in the house, it would be Mommy knowing about this that I couldn’t live with. I had to make her proud, this certainly wasn’t something to make her face spread a proud grin about, is it? Maybe she would die if she caught me like this, then again, maybe not, but I didn't want her catching me like this. She gave up too much for this. Mommy was determined to make things better for us, the family, I remembered how hard she tried, how much she sacrificed. A woman of God. One particular day to church stood out clearer than any other day, it was this one, six years ago.

  The big ball of fire in the sky was red hot that Sunday morning.

  The wind blew my pink frock I wore to church most Sundays, it swept a cloud of dust on my skin and into my face. I stopped and covered my face with both hands, Mommy tugged on my bony arm,

  “Walk up nuh Lee.”

  She stepped off brisk, wrung her ankle, broke off one of her heels and her hands dilly-dally in the air trying to balance. She almost fell flat on her face. Bending, she picked up the broken heel out of the dry dirt, she prayed to God,

  “God mi fed up of mi life, mi wish you would just take mi life and done.”

  Most people in Mommy’s case would just commit suicide rather than wait on the help of God to wipe them off the face of the earth.

  “We turning back honey.”

  She was tip-toeing awkwardly in her one and a half shoes. I zipped my gray handbag open, took out a ball of Vaseline wrapped in a piece of clear plastic bag, sank one finger into the soft dab, then wiped my finger on my cracked lips to hide that we had not eaten breakfast this morning, nor eaten anything yesterday. Luckily, the day before yesterday, my big brother Vance got a finger of banana, two cornmeal flour dumplings and some red herring and ackee from our next door neighbour, Ms. Merl. He shared it among me, my bigger sister, Pinky, Mommy and himself. Mommy said we must not leave any for our worthless father, because he deserved to eat just pure air with nothing pie for dinner, for the rest of his life. I could not agree more. We didn’t leave him even a small scrapings of the red herring bone.

  I wanted to go inside the church. I didn't want to go back home because we walked almost two miles in the sun since Mommy could not afford to take a taxi and refused to go to the church in our ghetto community.

  “Mommy mi tired, we can’t just go to church go sit down for a little beside the fan?” I was sweaty. I wanted to get some of the free artificial breeze blowing in my face. Breeze off little. I put on my best sorry-for face as I spoke, “Mi want take some of the cool breeze first.”

  Like a loaf of bread in the oven, the sun was baking my forehead. I wiped off some of the sweat and dust from my face. Mommy looked at me for a few clock ticks. She didn’t reply. She put the broken off heel in my handbag, took off both shoes and was trying to stuff both of them down into my handbag. Mommy’s parents were rich, according to her, she had it all. Since she met Dad her life had made a drastic turn, and it was downhill from then on. Now Mommy didn't even own a bag for herself, apart from a few black bags at home that we called scandal bags and a few bags under her stressed out eyes. On Sundays when she wore black or gray to church she’d take my little gray handbag.

  “Mommy pleaseee.” I whined in my squeaky, thirteen year old voice. Mommy still didn’t answer as she finally force-fit both shoes in, but had to keep the piece of heel in her hand to make the shoes fit into the tiny bag.“Pleeease Mommy, the sun is pelting mi.”

  Mommy was fighting with the mouth of the handbag, pulling the zippers close together so she could zip it shut. Sister Wilkins pulled up at the sidewalk in her silver Starlet. She rolled down her window and I felt the cool a/c breeze escaping the car, her wrinkled hand adjusted her glasses above her wide nose and her voice was shaky but polite,

  “Good morning Sister Aubrea, you need a lift dear?” Mommy immediately responded

  “No.” Almost with a snap in her tone, “Mi just turning to go back home for something now.”

  “What?” Mrs. Wilkins squinted her eyes and pushed up the broad rim of her matching white hat to see in Mommy’s face as the bright sun hazed her vision.

  “I left my phone at the yard and I’m getting an important call today.” Mommy twanged and held the unclosed handbag behind her.

  “No problem deary, I’ll help yo
u out man, I can just take you quick and come back.”

  Mommy stuttered,

  “No... no... That’s alright, we taking a taxi ’cause I have to make a stop about some money business that haven’t reached my U.S. account, you can just go on to church leave mi.” Mrs. Wilkins looked down at Mommy’s feet - no shoes - no stockings - no lotion - two dry poppy-poppy foot.

  “Heh Heya! ... Ok Sister Aubrea, God bless you dear.”

  “What that mean Sister Wilkins?”

  “Nothing, nothing.”

  Mrs. Wilkins rolled up her window. The hot pavement seemed as if it had silvery water in the far distance as Mrs. Wilkins silver car drove down the road to church. As the car got smaller and smaller in distance Mommy muttered to herself,

  “All of you just love show-off your dirty self, like people frighten for car and a/c and damn cellular phone.” Her pride was bruised, maybe her grudge even ripened, she puffed out a breath of I-can’t-stand-her.

  Mommy was use to car, she had a car once before I was born and Daddy set it on fire one day. She didn't have any U.S. bank account, Mom didn’t have any taxi-fare and Mom didn’t own a house phone much less a cellphone. She carried the handbag back to the front of her and hackled the zip.

  “Hold down the shoes make mi zip up the bag Lee.”

  Mommy’s dry lips needed some of the Vaseline. My hand crammed down the shoes while Mommy angrily yanked at the zip and dragged it up in frustration, bursting off the zipper-head in her hand. She threw the zipper-head, the shoes heel and my one deggeh deggeh handbag in the dirt, threw her hands in the air and walked off saying,

  “Mi fed up of this here life enuh! Mi fed up! Mi fed up! Mi fed up!” Mommy wasn’t crying but her eyes were watery. “Mi don’t know what to do again, God know.” Praying, she turned her head to the sky and eye-water filled-up her eyes.

  “God you see and know what mi going through, help mi God, please... Help mi.” She shook her head as she spoke and the tears thickened on her eyelashes. A feeling of giving up burst inside her. She tried to hold back the eye-water.

  “God take the case and give mi the pillow.” She cried. A long tear slid down her disheartened face, the water lengthening from her eye to her chin. Mommy didn’t look sad. She looked suicidal.

  That Sunday evening Mommy cooked dinner. She prepared dumplings with cooking oil and we poured cold water in plastic cups to help wash down our Sunday dinner.

  That was my last time ever eating poor squalor for a Sunday’s dinner. God didn’t have much credit on his phone to chit-chat with Mommy, but he still answered one of Mommy’s prayer.

  A week after that, Mommy began doing some work with Mr. Micheal Douglas. She took money to deposit at the bank for his hardware, supermarket, security company and landscaping company, and she also ran other petty errands for his businesses. Mommy was earning OK pay and told everyone she was Mr. Micheal Douglas’s Personal Assistant, not his “Bearer”.

  Though Mommy was earning some money it didn’t come close to what she desperately needed. She needed money for the huge doctor bill that she worried so much about. She was worrying so much that the poor lady thinned down to skin and bones and her eyeballs sank deep down into two holes. Mawga like brother dog. No matter what she did she couldn’t come up with the money. It drove her to make one of the most difficult decisions a mother could make and it led to my wedding. This wedding day. I was fourteen when she had to make the heart-wrenching decision. This is how it went down.

  CHAPTER 3

  It Started When I Was Fourteen

  by: Leelia Lexings

  At fourteen years young, my flat chest was rounding into breasts. Mommy thought it would be best if she remained in the ghetto but moved me out the braka-tat-tat warzone. She sent me to live on my own with my boyfriend uptown. Well actually, he wasn’t my boyfriend yet, but Mommy knew what she had to do from the get go.

  Blue. Dark-blue it was on that bleaky morning before I left. Mommy explained everything to me the best way she knew how. Lassy barked ecstatically outside as Mr. Micheal Douglas’ Pajero pulled up at our zinc fence. He killed the purring engine and left only one noise standing in the morning’s lightlessness, Lassy’s meagre echoing bark.

  Mommy stooped down before me, her hands busy buttoning up my yellow blouse, it had frills running down both sides of the buttons. The livingroom was not bright enough for me to see her face clearly through the thick darkness of the wee morning. The chokingly unbearable scent of the cheap red carbolic-soap that bathed my skin smelled harshly acidic in my nose and aggravated my allergies. I sneezed. It rushed my eyes into squinting. I used both hands to cover my nose and mouth. Sneezed again. Wiped. Sniffled.

  Mommy spoke with a resentful cry in her voice,

  “Lee, what I’m asking you to do is for a good cause, you hear mi? A good cause.” She used her shoulder to wipe her running nose, then wiped mine. She sniffled but I didn’t think it was from allergies. I think it was from how overwhelm her heart was, the big cry inside there. Her voice became throaty. “You understand mi honey?” Morning dryness in my eyes and inside my mouth minty with the taste of Colgate - no tea this morning. I nodded yes, though I didn’t quite understood why she was crying. We were doing this for a good, things would be better. I was going to miss my mother.

  The sun was still dead, not yet risen and no moon nor clouds were in the motionless sky, only the sorrowful emptiness and Mom’s lonely voice shaking.

  “Remember what the pastor said, you remember? ... Sometimes doing the good will hurt. It’s not an easy road, ok?” She ran both hands down my blouse then lightly rested both palms on my chest.

  Mr. Douglas tried opening the our zinc gate. The gate had black rubber hinges made from square cuts of car tyres. The noisy rattling on the zinc gate was added to the sound of Mom’s voice. The rubbery hinges gave the gate an automatic slam-shut that sounded like God clapped his hands in the quiet. Mom and I snapped our head around at the sound of the zinc slamming. She knew he was coming. This was it. Her lips trembled and she spoke faster,

  “Look this way honey, others going to judge you bad baby.” She placed one palm on my cheek turning me around, “Look this way, look ... they’ll say bad things, but honey, they don’t know, they don’t know, lord knows they don’t know." I listened as my nose grabbed a lungful of the cool atmosphere, the clean morning air tunnelled through my nose and into my mouth; it tasted unpolluted and filled with nature’s fresh morning-dew, the light smell of blossoms, rivers and the perfumy essence of flowers. Mommy’s face looked like crucifixion.

  “You see, doing the good sometimes is doing the lesser evil. And it hurts, every strand of my hair and every muscle in my body pains me.” The tears came in two streams down her face. Lassy barked as Mr. Douglas stepped on to our raw-concrete doorstep. She pulled me into her bosom and wrapped her hands around my head, rocking with me and protecting me.

  “Listen Lee and never forget.” Both her open palms clasped my cheeks and she firmed her eyes into mine. “No matter what others say, never let it stop you from doing the good, no matter how difficult the good is. Pride is as invisible as the words of gossip and it will hurt you deep.” Her palms pressingly shook my cheeks with passion, “But only when YOU let them hurt you Lee ...” Her heart hoped that I understood at only fourteen. My slender fingers squeezed on my gray handbag.

  She was counselling herself too as she sent off her girl child. Her eyes penetrated deep beyond my child’s eyes and her words aimed at the goodness of my soul. “But only when you let them WIN Lee ... Only when you let them WIN! O.K? You understand mi. Right?” Mommy quieted. The morning became a listening silence. I answered,

  “Yes Mommy.”

  A chilly wind blew through the window, swayed Mom’s black slip, and all her tears broke loose from her eyes. My small hands brushed away her tears. I would not let her down.

  The heavy scent of Mr. Douglas’ cologne climbed through the faulty joinings of our board house, spread into the livingroom, an
d forced itself up my irritated nose. There was a knock-knock at the door and a husky voice in a formal tone called,

  “Mrs. Lexings... Mrs. Lexings.”

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  “Mrs. Lexings!”

  Mommy waited forty days and forty nights before she answered low, with a cry in her voice,

  “Coming.”

  She kissed my forehead, ran one hand down my blouse one last time, breathing out forcibly, and then stood to her feet. Beside her small feet were all my packed belongings, in three black scandal bags.

  Less than an hour later, emergency. Asthma. Mom was rushing with Pinky to the hospital, with the only money she had left. The dinner money.

  I took my eyes off the bathroom door. Nathan hoisted back my gown over my bent ass.

  CHAPTER 4

  Heart Forgives but After I Revenge

  by: Leelia Lexings

  I can’t afford anyone hearing us, I quietly yelp to him,

  “Take your time with it babes ... It’s not running away.”

  Wincing my face in an ugly plea, eyes rolls to the sky but pussy wet and drooling with delight, almost dripping. He slows down, driving his cock into me from behind with slow thrusts, with nursing care, then shoves his gigantic penis the furthest I’ve ever felt a fucking cock in my life. I flash-dash my hand over my mouth, gagging myself, squirm. I want to yell at the top of my voice but I can’t, my family is in the livingroom. I’m through fucking; his cock is cervical-cancer big. I can’t take it anymore. I stand up straight so his cock would slip out my cunt, but the head of it is still in me. I yawp out desperately