I Got Fvcked In Both Holes By My Movers After They Moved Me In…
I'm Katie. I'm 46 years old and I work in finance. I just got divorced after a long ugly battle and finally moved into my own apartment, starting fresh after twenty years of marriage.
I hired movers to help with the furniture because I'm not stupid enough to try doing it myself. Two guys showed up - Tyler and Jake, both in their mid twenties, both incredibly attractive, and they were both clearly used to physical labor based on their bodies.
I'm sitting here the morning after and my entire body is sore. Not from moving boxes but from being fucked by two younger men who took turns using me and then used me together. My pussy is so thoroughly wrecked I can barely walk.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I was just trying to move into my new place and start my post divorce life. Instead I christened my new apartment by getting fucked on every piece of furniture these guys carried up three flights of stairs.
Let me tell you exactly how.
….
The movers were scheduled to arrive at 8 AM and they showed up right on time.
I answered the door and immediately felt my stomach flip because both of them were exactly my type in completely different ways.
Tyler was tall, maybe 6'2", with dark hair and this lean muscular build. He had tattoos covering both arms and wore a tight company t-shirt that showed off his body.
Jake was slightly shorter, maybe 6'0", blond, with broader shoulders and these piercing blue eyes that locked onto mine when he introduced himself.
"I'm Tyler, this is Jake," the dark haired one said. "We're here to move you in."
"Katie," I managed, trying not to stare at either of them. "Come in, I'll show you what needs to go where."
I walked them through the apartment, pointing out which furniture went in which rooms. I was very aware of both of them behind me as I moved through the space.
It was July and already hot, and within an hour of them working they were both sweating through their shirts.
I Found My Sisters Dildo..
I’m not saying my nineteen year old sister and I were close, but our parents’ idea of “two college kids sharing a house” was basically: ignore each other until dinner and then re-fracture into bedrooms with doors shut. My point is, Nadia and I had spent the summer practically as strangers. Which is why, when I went to shower that Sunday morning and found her pink dildo suction-cupped to the edge of the tub, it felt less like a crime against decency and more like a cryptid sighting.
I actually did a double take. At first, I thought it was some kind of new-age shampoo bottle, because who just leaves their sex toy right there, in the open, unless they want it found? But no. I reached for the hot faucet and nearly elbowed it. The thing was veiny, cartoonish, and looked like the exact opposite of the kind of guy my sister said she dated. No mistaking what it was, though.
My brain, which had been operating at lizard-level for most of the week, did the obvious math: Nadia, in here last night, what, getting herself off with this thing while I played Fortnite across the hall? The realization hit me in the chest … then, lower.
I got hard instantly, which was the most humiliating thing, even alone.
Instead of showering, I stood there holding the fake cock, thumb on the balls, my dick straining against my mesh shorts, imagining Nadia riding this thing. I knew how she moaned when she thought nobody was home, how her bedroom door clicked at one a.m., how she always came out for water looking like she’d just run a marathon. My sister. Naked, flushed, grinding herself down on a dildo so brazenly left out it must have been intentional.
I should have dropped it, left the bathroom, or at least finished jerking off in private. But I couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop thinking about how much of her I’d accidentally seen over the years: side boob, panties, even once a full glimpse of her tits through the cracked closet door, but never anything like this.
I headed into the shower and turned on the water. A bead of water ran down the shaft as the shower heated up. I flicked it off and pressed the toy against my own hip, as if comparing. It was longer, obviously, and a little thicker, but the head was shaped like mine. I’d never thought to imagine how Nadia saw a dick, let alone what she wanted inside her, but apparently it was something pretty close to what I had. The weird, forbidden pride in that made me harder.
Eventually, I managed to shower, but my mind was stuck in a loop. Rinse, lather, picture Nadia, picture Nadia, stroke myself under the water and feel like a scumbag. I didn’t even try to come, just scrubbed off and towelled dry, still sporting wood. I had to get it together. My whole body felt shaky.
I left the bathroom in my towel, the toy still attached to the edge of the tub like a middle finger, and padded down the hall to my room. At first, I planned to forget the whole thing, but as I passed Nadia’s door I heard her inside, voice muffled, probably on the phone. A vision of her, last night, knees up on the edge of the tub, toy buried inside her, sent a shock through my body.
I wanted to see her. Not in a normal, brotherly way, but I wanted to see her face when I handed her the dildo. Would she deny it? Laugh it off? Would she blush, look away, act like I was the perv for noticing?
The towel was still wrapped around my waist, half-cocked. I grabbed the dildo from the tub and knocked on Nadia’s door with it.
No answer.
I knocked again, this time with my knuckles. “Hey. Nad. You left something in the bathroom.”
A scuffling noise, then her voice, tight and defensive. “Go away.”
“I’m serious, it’s kind of hot.”
She opened the door just a crack. Nadia had a cute, soft face: big eyes, light freckles across her nose and cheeks, and a mouth that always looked like it was about to smile or bite her lip. Her hair was in a loose ponytail and she wore an old sweatshirt, sleeves pulled over her hands like she was hiding. Her cheeks were already splotched pink, eyes wide with something between annoyance and terror.
“What,” she said, monotone, but her gaze snapped to the thing in my hand. “Oh my god, give it to me.”
I held it out, shaft-first, and smirked. “You want it back that bad?”
“Shut up,” she hissed, snatching at it. She missed, so I held it above her head.
“Relax, Nadia. I’m not judging. Just, like, clean up your stuff next time. I almost used it as shampoo.”
She scowled and took another swipe, but this time her arm brushed the towel at my waist. Her knuckles grazed my bare hip and her eyes flicked downward, noticing, maybe, the outline of my dick pressing against the towel. I let her stare.
“You’re such a dick,” she muttered, grabbing the dildo with both hands and yanking it free. She made a show of looking disgusted, but her ears burned scarlet. “You ever heard of privacy?”
I shrugged. “You ever heard of subtlety?”
She started to slam the door in my face, but I blocked it with my foot.
“Wait,” I said. “Just…be more careful, okay? Mom’s soon home.”
She hugged the dildo to her chest, like it was a security blanket, and mumbled, “Whatever.” But she didn’t shut the door this time. Instead she just stood there, breathing heavy, looking at my chest and then the toy and then back up to my face. There was a moment, maybe half a second, when I felt like I could say anything and she’d listen.
I didn’t say anything, though. I just stood there, towel tenting, heart jackhammering.
She broke first. “You can leave now.”
I let the door close, walked to my room, locked it, and stared at the ceiling for what felt like an hour. My dick was still hard. I considered jerking off, just to get it over with, but it felt cheap, like if I waited something even better might happen. I don’t know why I felt that way, but I did.
Maybe ten minutes later, Nadia knocked.
I opened the door. She had changed out of her sweatshirt and was in a thin tank top and tiny shorts, braless. The pink had faded from her cheeks, but her arms were crossed, toy hidden behind her back.
“What?”
She looked at the floor. “I need a favor.”
I blinked, waiting for the punchline.
She bit her lip. “You already saw it. You know what it’s for. My hand’s sore, okay? I can’t, um, do it myself today.”
I wanted to laugh. Was this a dare? Some kind of payback for teasing her?
She peeked up at me, just for a second. “I know it’s weird. But could you…?”
She trailed off, then pulled the dildo out from behind her and offered it to me, handle-first.
My eyes widened. “You want me to use this on you?”
Her voice was a whisper. “If you want. If not, I’ll figure it out.”
I took the toy from her, holding it like a loaded gun. “Where?”
She jerked her head back toward her room. I followed, feeling like I was about to walk onto a game show, only the prize was my sister’s dignity and maybe my own.
Her room was tidy, except for a nest of blankets on her bed. She sat on the edge and looked up at me, legs closed, hands fidgeting in her lap.
“Uh, how do you want to do this?” I asked.
She shrugged, eyes darting to the floor. “Just… however you want, I guess. I’m already kind of, you know, ready.”
I didn’t, but I wanted to. I closed the door and leaned against it, watching her. She started to pull her shorts down, hesitated, then just shucked them and the tank top in one go, like ripping off a bandaid. She was naked, right in front of me, and more beautiful than I expected. Small, pert breasts with pink nipples, flat tummy, trimmed patch of hair above her pussy. Her legs trembled as she opened them just enough to show a flash of wet pink.
I wanted to say something, anything, but words felt stupid. Instead, I knelt in front of her and rested a hand on her knee.
She bit her lip harder. “Don’t make it weird.”
I grinned. “You’re the one who asked.”
She rolled her eyes, but her chest heaved up and down as she spread her legs wider.
I pressed the toy against her slit and watched her flinch, but not away. Her pussy was slick, and as I slid the head up and down, she let out a sound, almost a sigh, almost a moan. She was really wet, and I wondered how long she’d been thinking about this. About me doing this for her.
I eased the tip inside and she gasped, a full-body intake of breath. I watched her face, searching for signs to stop, but she just nodded.
“More,” she said, voice trembling.
I pushed the dildo deeper, hand wrapped around the shaft. My other hand steadied her thigh. She was tight. I couldn’t help but imagine what she’d look like on her back, toy buried to the hilt, face screwed up in pleasure.
“Is that good?” I asked, voice thick.
She nodded, eyes squeezed shut. “You can go harder.”
I did. Pumped it in and out, watching the way her whole body arched toward me, and how her pussy opened up to stretch around the toy. She started to rock her hips, meeting the thrusts, hands gripping the blanket.
I was painfully hard, my cock trapped under my shorts, leaking pre all over the inside. I wanted to pull it out, but this wasn’t about me. It was about Nadia, the way her back arched, the way her nipples stood up, the way she kept glancing at my face to see if I was grossed out or turned on.
I was both, and neither. I was obsessed. She was so wet, her juices leaked down from her slit. I got it all over my hand, the scent musky and sweet.
She moaned, soft and breathy at first then louder. I slid a finger down to her clit, circling gently, and she moaned.
“Oh my god,” she said, legs clamping around my wrist. “Don’t stop. Please, please don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I sped up, thrusting the toy and rubbing her clit. She was panting, sweat beading on her forehead, toes curling. She looked so innocent and so dirty at the same time, and I wanted to remember this forever.
“Can I…?” I started.
“Yeah,” she said, eyes still closed. “Anything.”
I leaned in and licked her pussy, tongue flicking the spot where my finger had just circled. She tasted sweet and clean, like skin and nothing else. She whimpered, hand going to my hair, pulling me closer. Then I pulled out the dildo, seeing her pussy gape open. Then I pushed my tongue against her pussy, moving some of the hair aside and then licked all the way up. She tasted divine and forbidden.
“Fuck, Liam. Oh my god. I’m gonna—”
I kept going, licking, pushing the dildo inside and rubbing her clit till she came. Her thighs squeezed my head, her pussy clenched around the toy, and she moaned into the crook of her elbow. I kept licking, until her hips stopped bucking and she sagged back onto the bed.
When it was over, I pulled away and sat on the floor, legs numb. My heart was racing so fast I felt sick.
She lay there, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. After a minute, she looked at me.
“Thanks,” she said, quiet.
I wiped my mouth and grinned, unable to believe any of it was real. “Anytime.”
A silence hung between us, thick and electric. She didn’t cover herself, just watched me, and I watched her. I wondered if she was going to ask for more, if this was some new normal, if things could ever go back.
They didn’t need to.
She sat up, legs crossed, and smiled for the first time all morning. “You’re such a dick,” she said again, but this time it sounded almost like a compliment.
I laughed, the tension breaking just a little. She leaned in and hugged me, naked tits pressing against my bare chest. I hugged her back.
When we finally pulled apart, she was still smiling, eyes shining with something secret.
I stood, adjusted my towel, and backed out of the room. “See you at lunch,” I said.
She didn’t answer, but the look she gave me promised this wouldn’t be the last time.
I was both, and neither. I was obsessed. She was so wet, her juices leaked down from her slit. I got it all over my hand, the scent musky and sweet.
She moaned, soft and breathy at first then louder. I slid a finger down to her clit, circling gently, and she moaned.
“Oh my god,” she said, legs clamping around my wrist. “Don’t stop. Please, please don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I sped up, thrusting the toy and rubbing her clit. She was panting, sweat beading on her forehead, toes curling. She looked so innocent and so dirty at the same time, and I wanted to remember this forever.
“Can I…?” I started.
“Yeah,” she said, eyes still closed. “Anything.”
I leaned in and licked her pussy, tongue flicking the spot where my finger had just circled. She tasted sweet and clean, like skin and nothing else. She whimpered, hand going to my hair, pulling me closer. Then I pulled out the dildo, seeing her pussy gape open. Then I pushed my tongue against her pussy, moving some of the hair aside and then licked all the way up. She tasted divine and forbidden.
“Fuck, Liam. Oh my god. I’m gonna—”
I kept going, licking, pushing the dildo inside and rubbing her clit till she came. Her thighs squeezed my head, her pussy clenched around the toy, and she moaned into the crook of her elbow. I kept licking, until her hips stopped bucking and she sagged back onto the bed.
When it was over, I pulled away and sat on the floor, legs numb. My heart was racing so fast I felt sick.
She lay there, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. After a minute, she looked at me.
“Thanks,” she said, quiet.
I wiped my mouth and grinned, unable to believe any of it was real. “Anytime.”
A silence hung between us, thick and electric. She didn’t cover herself, just watched me, and I watched her. I wondered if she was going to ask for more, if this was some new normal, if things could ever go back.
They didn’t need to.
She sat up, legs crossed, and smiled for the first time all morning. “You’re such a dick,” she said again, but this time it sounded almost like a compliment.
I laughed, the tension breaking just a little. She leaned in and hugged me, naked tits pressing against my bare chest. I hugged her back.
When we finally pulled apart, she was still smiling, eyes shining with something secret.
I stood, adjusted my towel, and backed out of the room. “See you at lunch,” I said.
She didn’t answer, but the look she gave me promised this wouldn’t be the last time.
I wanted to laugh. Was this a dare? Some kind of payback for teasing her?
She peeked up at me, just for a second. “I know it’s weird. But could you…?”
She trailed off, then pulled the dildo out from behind her and offered it to me, handle-first.
My eyes widened. “You want me to use this on you?”
Her voice was a whisper. “If you want. If not, I’ll figure it out.”
I took the toy from her, holding it like a loaded gun. “Where?”
She jerked her head back toward her room. I followed, feeling like I was about to walk onto a game show, only the prize was my sister’s dignity and maybe my own.
Her room was tidy, except for a nest of blankets on her bed. She sat on the edge and looked up at me, legs closed, hands fidgeting in her lap.
“Uh, how do you want to do this?” I asked.
She shrugged, eyes darting to the floor. “Just… however you want, I guess. I’m already kind of, you know, ready.”
I didn’t, but I wanted to. I closed the door and leaned against it, watching her. She started to pull her shorts down, hesitated, then just shucked them and the tank top in one go, like ripping off a bandaid. She was naked, right in front of me, and more beautiful than I expected. Small, pert breasts with pink nipples, flat tummy, trimmed patch of hair above her pussy. Her legs trembled as she opened them just enough to show a flash of wet pink.
I wanted to say something, anything, but words felt stupid. Instead, I knelt in front of her and rested a hand on her knee.
She bit her lip harder. “Don’t make it weird.”
I grinned. “You’re the one who asked.”
She rolled her eyes, but her chest heaved up and down as she spread her legs wider.
I pressed the toy against her slit and watched her flinch, but not away. Her pussy was slick, and as I slid the head up and down, she let out a sound, almost a sigh, almost a moan. She was really wet, and I wondered how long she’d been thinking about this. About me doing this for her.
I eased the tip inside and she gasped, a full-body intake of breath. I watched her face, searching for signs to stop, but she just nodded.
“More,” she said, voice trembling.
I pushed the dildo deeper, hand wrapped around the shaft. My other hand steadied her thigh. She was tight. I couldn’t help but imagine what she’d look like on her back, toy buried to the hilt, face screwed up in pleasure.
“Is that good?” I asked, voice thick.
She nodded, eyes squeezed shut. “You can go harder.”
I did. Pumped it in and out, watching the way her whole body arched toward me, and how her pussy opened up to stretch around the toy. She started to rock her hips, meeting the thrusts, hands gripping the blanket.
I was painfully hard, my cock trapped under my shorts, leaking pre all over the inside. I wanted to pull it out, but this wasn’t about me. It was about Nadia, the way her back arched, the way her nipples stood up, the way she kept glancing at my face to see if I was grossed out or turned on.
The towel was still wrapped around my waist, half-cocked. I grabbed the dildo from the tub and knocked on Nadia’s door with it.
No answer.
I knocked again, this time with my knuckles. “Hey. Nad. You left something in the bathroom.”
A scuffling noise, then her voice, tight and defensive. “Go away.”
“I’m serious, it’s kind of hot.”
She opened the door just a crack. Nadia had a cute, soft face: big eyes, light freckles across her nose and cheeks, and a mouth that always looked like it was about to smile or bite her lip. Her hair was in a loose ponytail and she wore an old sweatshirt, sleeves pulled over her hands like she was hiding. Her cheeks were already splotched pink, eyes wide with something between annoyance and terror.
“What,” she said, monotone, but her gaze snapped to the thing in my hand. “Oh my god, give it to me.”
I held it out, shaft-first, and smirked. “You want it back that bad?”
“Shut up,” she hissed, snatching at it. She missed, so I held it above her head.
“Relax, Nadia. I’m not judging. Just, like, clean up your stuff next time. I almost used it as shampoo.”
She scowled and took another swipe, but this time her arm brushed the towel at my waist. Her knuckles grazed my bare hip and her eyes flicked downward, noticing, maybe, the outline of my dick pressing against the towel. I let her stare.
“You’re such a dick,” she muttered, grabbing the dildo with both hands and yanking it free. She made a show of looking disgusted, but her ears burned scarlet. “You ever heard of privacy?”
I shrugged. “You ever heard of subtlety?”
She started to slam the door in my face, but I blocked it with my foot.
“Wait,” I said. “Just…be more careful, okay? Mom’s soon home.”
She hugged the dildo to her chest, like it was a security blanket, and mumbled, “Whatever.” But she didn’t shut the door this time. Instead she just stood there, breathing heavy, looking at my chest and then the toy and then back up to my face. There was a moment, maybe half a second, when I felt like I could say anything and she’d listen.
I didn’t say anything, though. I just stood there, towel tenting, heart jackhammering.
She broke first. “You can leave now.”
I let the door close, walked to my room, locked it, and stared at the ceiling for what felt like an hour. My dick was still hard. I considered jerking off, just to get it over with, but it felt cheap, like if I waited something even better might happen. I don’t know why I felt that way, but I did.
Maybe ten minutes later, Nadia knocked.
I opened the door. She had changed out of her sweatshirt and was in a thin tank top and tiny shorts, braless. The pink had faded from her cheeks, but her arms were crossed, toy hidden behind her back.
“What?”
She looked at the floor. “I need a favor.”
I blinked, waiting for the punchline.
She bit her lip. “You already saw it. You know what it’s for. My hand’s sore, okay? I can’t, um, do it myself today.”
I Found My Sisters Dildo..
I’m not saying my nineteen year old sister and I were close, but our parents’ idea of “two college kids sharing a house” was basically: ignore each other until dinner and then re-fracture into bedrooms with doors shut. My point is, Nadia and I had spent the summer practically as strangers. Which is why, when I went to shower that Sunday morning and found her pink dildo suction-cupped to the edge of the tub, it felt less like a crime against decency and more like a cryptid sighting.
I actually did a double take. At first, I thought it was some kind of new-age shampoo bottle, because who just leaves their sex toy right there, in the open, unless they want it found? But no. I reached for the hot faucet and nearly elbowed it. The thing was veiny, cartoonish, and looked like the exact opposite of the kind of guy my sister said she dated. No mistaking what it was, though.
My brain, which had been operating at lizard-level for most of the week, did the obvious math: Nadia, in here last night, what, getting herself off with this thing while I played Fortnite across the hall? The realization hit me in the chest … then, lower.
I got hard instantly, which was the most humiliating thing, even alone.
Instead of showering, I stood there holding the fake cock, thumb on the balls, my dick straining against my mesh shorts, imagining Nadia riding this thing. I knew how she moaned when she thought nobody was home, how her bedroom door clicked at one a.m., how she always came out for water looking like she’d just run a marathon. My sister. Naked, flushed, grinding herself down on a dildo so brazenly left out it must have been intentional.
I should have dropped it, left the bathroom, or at least finished jerking off in private. But I couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop thinking about how much of her I’d accidentally seen over the years: side boob, panties, even once a full glimpse of her tits through the cracked closet door, but never anything like this.
I headed into the shower and turned on the water. A bead of water ran down the shaft as the shower heated up. I flicked it off and pressed the toy against my own hip, as if comparing. It was longer, obviously, and a little thicker, but the head was shaped like mine. I’d never thought to imagine how Nadia saw a dick, let alone what she wanted inside her, but apparently it was something pretty close to what I had. The weird, forbidden pride in that made me harder.
Eventually, I managed to shower, but my mind was stuck in a loop. Rinse, lather, picture Nadia, picture Nadia, stroke myself under the water and feel like a scumbag. I didn’t even try to come, just scrubbed off and towelled dry, still sporting wood. I had to get it together. My whole body felt shaky.
I left the bathroom in my towel, the toy still attached to the edge of the tub like a middle finger, and padded down the hall to my room. At first, I planned to forget the whole thing, but as I passed Nadia’s door I heard her inside, voice muffled, probably on the phone. A vision of her, last night, knees up on the edge of the tub, toy buried inside her, sent a shock through my body.
I wanted to see her. Not in a normal, brotherly way, but I wanted to see her face when I handed her the dildo. Would she deny it? Laugh it off? Would she blush, look away, act like I was the perv for noticing?
Mutual Masturbation Took An Unexpected Turn…
I don’t know why, but sometimes mutual masturbation is just so much better than sex. Last night my buddy Jake came over. We haven’t ever fooled around before but we got a little tipsy. I told him I was horny and wanted to touch myself so he said let’s do it. We went to my room and I put on porn that we chose together. I got naked first and he just stared at me. I got out a vibrator, laid down, and started having fun. He was amazed, and then he laid down next to me and took out his cock. It was way bigger than I expected, I don’t know why he’d have a small cock but it was probably 8 inches and too thick for him to completely grip. Soon I found myself just watching him stroke his cock and not even watching any of the porn. I noticed he was just watching me too.
I played it up a little bit and moaned louder than I normally would. I then started directing him. Telling him when to speed up his pace stroking his cock, when to slow down, when to touch his balls. He said he knew we weren’t fucking but could he touch my boobs. I said of course, as long as he kept being a good boy. He reached over and grabbed my boobs. He immediately started pinching and twisting my nipples and I just lost control. I asked if he was close and he said kind of; and classic dude line, his hand just wasn’t enough though. I fell for it, I was so fucking wet watching him stroke himself for me, feeling his hands on me.
I told him to put it in. I wanted him to fuck my pussy. Well it turns out he was actually close and needed just that extra more. After just 3 thrusts he pulled out and covered me. It was so much cum, he had to have been at least two weeks out from his last cum. He laid back down next to me and watched as I finished myself covered him his cum.
He then got dressed and left, leaving me there covered yet satisfied. I do wish I didn’t tell him to put it in though because now I feel like I need more sex, that was just a tease.
Mutual Masturbation Took An Unexpected Turn…
I don’t know why, but sometimes mutual masturbation is just so much better than sex. Last night my buddy Jake came over. We haven’t ever fooled around before but we got a little tipsy. I told him I was horny and wanted to touch myself so he said let’s do it. We went to my room and I put on porn that we chose together. I got naked first and he just stared at me. I got out a vibrator, laid down, and started having fun. He was amazed, and then he laid down next to me and took out his cock. It was way bigger than I expected, I don’t know why he’d have a small cock but it was probably 8 inches and too thick for him to completely grip. Soon I found myself just watching him stroke his cock and not even watching any of the porn. I noticed he was just watching me too.
I played it up a little bit and moaned louder than I normally would. I then started directing him. Telling him when to speed up his pace stroking his cock, when to slow down, when to touch his balls. He said he knew we weren’t fucking but could he touch my boobs. I said of course, as long as he kept being a good boy. He reached over and grabbed my boobs. He immediately started pinching and twisting my nipples and I just lost control. I asked if he was close and he said kind of; and classic dude line, his hand just wasn’t enough though. I fell for it, I was so fucking wet watching him stroke himself for me, feeling his hands on me.
I told him to put it in. I wanted him to fuck my pussy. Well it turns out he was actually close and needed just that extra more. After just 3 thrusts he pulled out and covered me. It was so much cum, he had to have been at least two weeks out from his last cum. He laid back down next to me and watched as I finished myself covered him his cum.
He then got dressed and left, leaving me there covered yet satisfied. I do wish I didn’t tell him to put it in though because now I feel like I need more sex, that was just a tease.
By then, my sister was wondering what was taking him so long.
Finally, the door opened.
Her son walked inside.
But he wasn’t carrying a switch.
He was holding a small rock.
His cheeks were wet with tears.
My sister stared at him.
“Where’s the switch?”
He shook his head.
“I couldn’t find one.”
She pointed at the rock.
“Then what’s that?”
The little boy looked down at it.
Then he looked back at his mother.
And quietly said,
“Mama… you can throw this at me.”
My sister said those words completely broke her.
Because in that moment, she stopped seeing the situation as an angry mother.
She saw it through her son’s eyes.
He didn’t understand that a switch was supposed to be different from a rock.
He didn’t understand the history behind spanking.
He didn’t understand that she was frustrated.
He only understood one thing:
His mother wanted to hurt him.
And suddenly, my sister couldn’t bring herself to punish him.
She dropped down to her knees and opened her arms.
“Come here.”
He ran straight into them.
She held him tightly.
I still remember the day my sister sent her six-year-old son outside to find a switch.
She had always been against spanking.
Growing up, she had seen plenty of parents discipline their children with switches, belts, and whatever else they could reach.
But when she became a mother, she made up her mind.
“I will discipline my children,” she used to say, “but I don’t want them to be afraid of me.”
For six years, she stuck to that.
Until one afternoon when her son pushed her patience too far.
He had misbehaved badly, and my sister was already exhausted from a long day.
She raised her voice.
“Go outside and find me a switch.”
The little boy stopped.
“A switch?”
“Yes. Go find one.”
He slowly walked out of the house.
My sister expected him to come back within a few minutes.
He didn’t.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
Mmm ok
I woke to the sound of someone trying to break the morning.
Six o’clock. The doorbell didn’t ring. It hammered. Relentless, furious, the kind of ringing that makes your body decide there is fire or blood before your brain has time to catch up. I stumbled down the hall in yesterday’s clothes, heart already in my throat, and yanked the door open ready for sirens.
It was him.
My neighbor stood on the step with snow in his hair and rage in his face, as if I had personally summoned the storm and aimed it at his driveway. Behind him the world was white and still. In front of his house the pavement was scraped clean, a neat dark rectangle of effort. Next to it, starting where the yellow pavers marked the edge of what he called the “common road,” the snow still lay untouched. That stretch belonged to neither of us and both of us. I had not touched it yet because I had been asleep.
The lord isn’t wrong inside his logic.
Because come to think about 😀…
If the machine “thinks” and thinking costs water, then humans look like wasted inventory.
That’s how you get from “AI is progress” to “you’re 60% unused coolant” in one sentence.
The joke is funny until you remember data centers already fight towns over water. Progress is measured only by what the machine outputs.
They made a living pretending ghosts were real.
Then they actually found one.
Curry Barker’s Anything But Ghosts looks like the kind of horror movie that starts as a joke and slowly turns into a nightmare.
And with Aaron Paul and Bryce Dallas Howard joining the chaos, this one deserves attention.
Mike Flanagan doesn’t want to tell Carrie’s story again.
He wants to build an entire three season journey around it.
His vision expands Stephen King’s original story beyond the infamous prom night and explores the larger world of women with telekinetic abilities.
If Prime Video gives him the chance, Carrie could become much more than another adaptation.
It could become Flanagan’s definitive Stephen King series.
Neagley is an interesting experiment for the Reacher universe.
Instead of asking, "How do we make another Reacher?"
It asks, "What happens when we take one of the most interesting characters around Reacher and finally give her a story of her own?"
That difference might be the entire reason the spin off works.
Reacher appearing in Neagley was always going to attract attention.
But there's an interesting question here:
Can a spin off featuring one of the franchise's biggest characters still feel like its own show when Reacher walks into the story?
Or does his presence automatically make everything about him?