He blinked and stared, as if confused.
“I’m fucked,” he sighed as he looked down at the table.
“No, you’re not. You have me. I may let you run over me in the bed room, but in the court room, I’ll tear this prosecution team limb by mother fucking limb like the savage little bitch that I am. You see, Michael, the reason I need you to take charge in the bedroom is simple. In the courtroom, something inside of me takes over. It takes charge. And when it’s over, I feel like I’ve been possessed by a beast. I need someone to just take over when I’m done. But in that courtroom, you do what I say, how I say, and in the manner I advise you to do so, understood?” I asked as I pulled the chair from the table.
“Yes ma’am,” he responded softly as he stared at the edge of the table.
“Michael?” I asked as I sat down in the chair.
“Yes ma’am,” he responded as he looked up.
“Do you trust me?” I asked as I reached over the table, holding my hand in the center.
He nodded his head and wiped his hands on his shorts.
“You didn’t possess the mens rea element of the crime, and it’s required that you possess a criminal mind to be convicted. The guilty mind. The proceeding with the crime after you realized the act itself was criminal. You had no guilty mind. You never believed you were doing wrong. You were in fear for your life. It’s just that fucking simple. You remember nothing. You remember a gun. You remember trying to save yourself. You don’t remember direction. You don’t remember anything. You don’t remember anything but a gun, and you reacted. And when you finally realized what had happened, you were on the porch, calling the police.
“Do you trust me?” I asked again, my hand still hovering over the table.
He swallowed an audible lump and nodded his head.
“Yes ma’am,” he said softly.
“Prove it,” I clenched my fist.
He raised his right hand and extended it to the center of the table, holding it a few inches from mine. As he looked up and into my eyes, he smiled.
“I pizz you,” he said as he bumped my fist.
“I got this,” I said as I pressed my knuckles into his.
“And I pizz you back.”
CHAPTER VI - GRAND DAD JACK
RIPP. A person can physically prepare for trial. Going through the motions, practicing testimony, practicing how to sit, what to say, and what not to say, and when to say it might prepare me for the courtroom, but the fear of going to prison filled me as the court date approached. My family and my friends were more important to me than anything, and I’ll stand up for them as long as I’m able, but it didn’t make it any easier.
I didn’t admit to my family or my friends how scared I was about the court, trial, or potentially going to prison. I didn’t even tell Vee. I wanted each and every one of them to think that I was as together mentally as I was physically. Fact of the matter was nothing could be further from the truth.
I was scared to death, and I wanted this nightmare to end.
“I figured I’d find you here, son,” my father said as he walked up to the merry-go-round.
I looked up and nodded my head. I thought for a moment about speaking, but no meaningful words came to mind. As I slowly swung in a circle on the contraption, I felt like two hundred and fifty pounds of absolutely nothing. I looked at my father partially filled with shame and a little embarrassed.
“I remember when you were a kid you used to run up here naked. You’d be wearing nothing but those damned shoes, those Chucks,” he stood and waited for the merry-go-round to catch up with where he stood.
As the ride rotated me past where he stood, he stepped quickly to catch up, and plopped down beside me.
“Never much cared for these damned things. Always made me want to puke,” he said over his left shoulder.
As my toes drug through the dirt, I gripped the edge of the platform I was sitting on and looked up into his eyes.
“What’s going on, son?” he asked as he looked down at the trail of dust I was kicking up.
I swallowed what appeared to be a now permanent lump that resided in my throat and opened my mouth.
“Kind of scared a little, I suppose,” I said softly.
I sounded like I was a child again. The presence of fathers and fear tend to do that to even the toughest of us.
“I’m gonna call bullshit on that one, son. You ain’t never been scared of anything in your life. I believe you’re filled with a little uncertainty. That and maybe a small slice of regret. Uncertainty is or I suppose could be expected. Hell, your freedom is in question. I can’t imagine you being locked up. It’d bring me to my knees if that happened. Hell, the amount of time they’re talking about locking you up,” he hesitated and looked over his shoulder again.
“Twenty years? Shit, I’ll be dead by the time you get out. But you want to know something, Michael?” he asked.
I knew better than to try and answer. I did what I’d been doing a lot of in Vee’s office.
I nodded slowly.
“I’ll die proud as fuck of you, boy. Let me tell you something. When I’m done talking, you and I are going to stand up and go to dinner. They’re all waiting - your friends, your girlfriend, and the rest of the family. I know this is Sunday. And I know the trial starts tomorrow, but all I have to say. I can say it real quick,” he paused and placed his left hand on my right thigh.
I drug my toes through the dirt until the ride stopped.
“That boy, Tucker. He raped your sister. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a crime far worse than murder. I hate to sound like a man without a soul, but I imagine, and I can’t say that I’d disagree, that there’ll be a time in her life or maybe many times - when Bug wishes that son-of-a-bitch would have killed her. But he didn’t. You went there, he pulled a gun, and we all know what happened next. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. You’re a fighter, son. You come by it naturally. You remember my father, don’t you?” he asked as he tapped his hand on my leg.
“Yes sir,” I responded as I looked up.
“Well, your grandfather fought in the second World War. He fought to preserve your right to fight in court, holding the Constitution in front of you as preservation of those rights. So, now you have been charged with a crime, murder, and you have an opportunity to stand up and fight, and say I’m not guilty, it was self-defense. You have that right because your grandfather, and people like your grandfather were willing to fight to preserve your right to fight against people, systems, or factions of our government that attempt to try to take that right or your freedom from you,” he paused and looked over his shoulder.
“What do you think your grandfather would do if he was charged with this murder?” he asked.
I blinked my eyes and thought of my grandfather, who had now been dead for a few years. He was a fighter, and died fighting cancer. He never gave up. He was the most sensible man I had ever met. He had a little bit of a temper, and a lot of enthusiasm for any and everything that he believed in. He was a difficult man to convince that he was wrong, but he’d be the first to admit it if he was. As I recalled my grandfather, his simple way of living, the way he carried himself, and his moral fiber, I turned to my father and smiled.
“Grand Dad Jack?” I asked, my voice cracking under the emotion I was feeling.
He nodded.
“He’d fight these bastards,” I responded without hesitation.
“Regardless of what the risk was, regardless of the offer of a lesser prison sentence, and regardless of what he stood to lose?” my father scrunched his brow and looked as if he didn’t know the answer.
“Yes sir,” I responded.
“Why?” he asked.
I swallowed and thought of an answer that would give my grandfather the recognition he deserved.
“Well, because he was a fighter. He stood up for those who couldn’t or wouldn’t stand up for themselves,” I said proudly.
My father lifted his hand f
rom my leg, stood from the merry-go-round, and turned to face me.
“And who are you, son? What do you stand for,” he asked as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I’m a fighter,” I said as I stood from the merry-go-round.
As he uncrossed his arms and spread them as wide as they were able, I hugged him. I couldn’t recall the last time I hugged my father, or the last time we had a serious talk. Although I was thirty one, I stood, wrapped in his arms, feeling as if I were a twelve year old kid again. In many respects, I have never grown up. As he held me in his arms, I realized that on the following day, for the first time in my adult life, I needed to be accountable. I needed to be a man, and I needed to be responsible for my actions.
“I’ll make you proud,” I breathed over his shoulder.
“You already have son,” he responded, “You already have.”
CHAPTER VII - NOODLE ANYONE?
RIPP. Anyone that believes they know what God’s will is, in my mind, is mistaken. We all have an idea, if we believe in God, what we believe his will to be. No one knows. We like to believe that we do, but we don’t. It all comes down to what we believe. From the time that we’re children, we begin to develop a system of beliefs of what we choose to categorize as right and wrong. Most people share the same beliefs on matters of morality. When were exposed to an event that requires us to make a split second decision, we all react differently.
I try to expose myself to everything that life offers me. It causes me to make a lot of decisions, some of which I’m sure make God look down on me and shake his head. Other times, I’m sure he nods his head and smiles, knowing I did what he wanted me to. I am able, regardless, to live my life knowing that no matter what I do or did, I did so believing at the time that it was what needed to be done, considering all things.
There’s absolutely nothing a man can do to prepare to go to trial. Mentally preparing to walk into a room and allow twelve people you don’t know decide what their thoughts are on an event that they didn’t see, participate in, or witness in any way is impossible. Maybe there are things that can ease your mind. But preparation? I don’t think there’s anything a man can do to prepare.
“Well, tomorrow’s the big day, are you ready?” Vee asked as she pulled back the comforter.
“I suppose so,” I said as I sat on the edge of the bed.
“I have your shirt, shoes, tie, suit, and glasses all out and ready. I even have extra shirts pressed just in case you spill something, so no worries,” she smiled.
Yeah, no worries.
“No worries,” I did my best to grin.
“Well, starting tomorrow, it’s going to be hectic until it’s over,” she said as she climbed into the bed.
“Yeah, I know. I’m as ready as I’m going to get,” I raised my hands and rubbed my head.
“You know, if we don’t have sex now, we might not be able to for a while. I mean, it could be…”
Her voice trailing off was a reminder of what could be. I could go into court, have a two day trial, and be found guilty. That guilty verdict would cause them to arrest me for murder, place me in jail, transport me to prison, and there I would sit for anywhere between ten and twenty years. The thought of it made me sick. The thought of losing Vee made me feel even sicker. I sat and realized I may never see her again. Who would wait ten years?
Not one person.
As she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor, I looked at her athletic body and her soft tanned skin. Her perky nipples stood at attention. My cock, on the other hand, didn’t.
She reached up and started pinching her nipples in between her fingers and thumbs, something she often did. I enjoyed watching her do it, and it always made me want her immediately. Tonight, as I watched her.
Nothing.
“I uhhm. I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” I said as I stood and turned to the doorway.
“I’ll be right here, babe,” she smiled.
As I walked to the bathroom, I reached into my pocket and felt my cock through the fabric of my pocket.
Soft.
I pulled the bathroom door closed and turned on the faucet at the sink. I pulled my shorts down and gripped my cock. As I started to stroke it, I knew in advance what was going to happen. I could just tell. This was a man’s worst nightmare, and something that had never happened to me, and I hoped never would happen again.
Frantic, I stroked faster and faster.
Nothing.
I thought of Vee sucking my cock.
Nothing.
I thought of her bent over the bed, her perfect heart shaped ass below me as I pounded her full of ten inches of pierced cock. I looked down.
Two inches of shriveled flesh looked back.
This was probably something I should have expected. My mind was full of every possibility of what the detectives might say, who might show up to testify, and what a monster they might try to convince the jury that I was, had been, and had become that day at Tucker’s home.
I pulled up my shorts and turned off the water.
As I walked back into the bed room, Vee was still playing with her nipples. I pulled off my shirt and tossed it on the floor as I sat on the edge of the bed. I reached for the waist of my short, began to unbutton them, and hesitated.
“You know, babe,” I said as I smiled and knelt down on the bed.
I couldn’t let this woman down. And I didn’t want her to know what I was going through mentally, physically, or emotionally.
“I don’t want to cheapen this night up with making it feel like we’re forced to have sex when what I really want to do it this,” I said as I pulled back the covers and began to force my way between her thighs.
As I lowered my face between her legs, she spread her thighs apart and exhaled a heavy sigh. Slowly, I began to lick her pussy and finger her softly. As she moaned in pleasure I looked up and into her eyes and winked.
I closed my eyes and realized if I couldn’t give her what she hoped for, I could sure attempt to make her happy with what it was that I could offer her. I buried my face in her pussy and began to tickle her clit with my tongue.
“Holy fuck, Michael. Oh…my…God. That feels…so,” she raised her hips and paused.
“Good,” she sighed.
I continued to work my finger in and out of her pussy and suck her clit. As she began to moan, I flicked the tip of my tongue along her clit as rapidly as I could. I increased the speed of my finger as I slid it in and out of her soaking wet pussy. Slowly and with rhythm, she began to buck her hips against my face.
After less than a minute of her hip gyrations and my Lickle trick, her breathing changed. She began to breathe heavily and moan loudly.
“Ripp…”
“Stop…I think…I…think…I’m going to…die,” she breathed.
I continued to flick my tongue against her clit and lick her pussy as rapidly as my tongue would allow. I have great control over my tongue and I was giving her all I had. As I did my best to please the woman that I loved, she pulled her hips from me, attempting to bury her ass into the bed. She was almost there.
I continued to torture her clit with the tip of my tongue as my finger worked in and out of her wetness. As I felt her begin to contract deep inside, I pressed her clit between my upper lip and the tip of my tongue.
“Holy fuck, I’m…”
“Oh…”
“Oh my…”
“God…”
I continued to suck and lick as I held my finger deep inside of her, curling the tip of it upward. As I licked her clit, she moaned and groaned as she attempted to pull herself away from my mouth. As she pulled away, I followed her, pressing my face into her further.
“Stop. I can’t…”
“I can’t, Ripp. Michael. Whoever you are. Just stop. Give me…”
“Give me a minute. Jesus. What the fuck was that?” she raised herself onto her elbows and looked at me, confused.
“Lickle. I
t’s…uhhm,” I wiped her cum from my face.
“It’s licking and tickling at the same time,” I held my tongue out and wiggled the tip of it so she could see.
“So you can repeat it?” she asked.
“Yep, I invented it,” I responded.
“Lickle?” she asked.
“Yep,” I smiled.
“Huh. Okay. Well, give me a minute, I really need it. That was intense, holy crap. I uhhm. I’ve never really had an orgasm like that,” she breathed.
“From having your pussy licked?” I asked.
“No, yes. I have, yes. Just not like that - from doing anything. That was….well, it was intense. It felt like there were a million little pins inside of me poking me or something. I don’t know, it’s difficult to describe,” she blinked her eyes and grinned as she shook her head.
“Well, maybe here in an hour you’ll have a better understanding of how to describe it,” I chuckled.
“In an hour? Why’s that?” she asked.
“Because,” I slid my finger inside her pussy and curled the tip upward.
She tilted her head back and moaned.
“I’m going to,” I curled the tip of my finger again.
“Oh God, Michael,” she sighed.
I curled the tip of my finger again and pressed my lips into her pussy. I licked from my finger to her clit, twice, and looked up.
“Do this to you,” I licked her pussy again.
“For an hour,” I kissed her clit and looked up toward her face.
Her head was tilted backward and all I could see was her chin and neck. I held my finger still and waited. As she tilted her head forward, she smiled and shook her head.
“An hour?” she grinned as she shook her head.
“Well,” I turned my wrist and looked at my watch.
“Fifty-eight minutes now,” I grinned.
“You’re serious?” she asked.
I nodded my head and looked at my watch.
“Fifty-seven,” I chuckled.
She reached back and gripped the headboard in her hands, squeezing it tightly. She looked at me and shook her head, flipping her hair over her shoulders.