THE FIGHT WAS FUCK

 I left home to see the world still very young, in the hope of being able to do what I would not be able to stay in my small town: to study and become someone important. By the time he was twenty-eight, he could already see how he achieved both. He was a Lawyer and held a position of relative importance as a Parliamentary Advisor in the Capital.  The Deputy whom I was advising had served his third term and had confided to me that I would no longer be in the running for re-election to the Legislative Assembly. He wanted to fly higher and compete for the Chamber of Deputies, in Brasilia, as Federal Deputy. He was sure that he would be elected. He informed me that he would send me a candidate in his place for State Representative. And that he had already made this communication to the Party and its electoral bases. It made me agree with the idea and I agreed. The election campaign was fierce, forcing me to deploy to meet all party demands, moving to all regions of the state, not being able to afford to run my campaign in just a few regions. After all, although the deputy who had launched me was well known, I was not. He was only someone with no political past and no name of importance in the state scene. So I set out on the field and traveled miles and miles of roads, good and bad, to introduce myself to my possible desires. I also spent tens of hours inside aircraft flying from here to there, from there to here. By the end of the campaign I could not stand it anymore and I was physically exhausted. But elected. It was only a few days after being elected that I received my mother’s statement saying that my father had suffered a sudden illness and had not resisted, having passed away. Shaken by the news, I took advantage of the offer of a ride made by a businessman friend and flew on his plane to my city for my father’s funeral. Arriving there early in the morning, I was received at the airfield (as they called it the airport) by my mother and my sister. Although younger, my sister was already married, but she had no children. As we drove to my parents’ house, in the living room of which my father’s body was being veiled, I could feel the awakening of attention. Now it was still early, the house was full of friends and curious people who had come there to know that I would arrive, in order to see me. After all, I had left there, still young and unknown to most of my fellow countrymen, and was now, after a while, elected State Representative waiting to take office in January. As my father and I did not see each other very often, although we talked on the phone almost every week, his death made me very depressed, and this dejection, aggravated by fatigue and the exhausting effort of the recent campaign, was enough for a lack of control emotionally overwhelmed me. I burst into convulsive, inconsolable weeping. My mother, frightened, perhaps because I did not expect such a reaction from her “son-in-law”, as she had been referring to me since my arrival, she called my sister in a corner and said, “Take my poor son from the middle of this crowd. take him to his house to see if he rests a little. ” My parents’ house, facing a small square, had a huge yard that ended in a fence separating it from the backyard of my sister’s house, which was on Rua dos Fundos, as we knew it. So we did not have to go through the square and the street to go from house to house. That’s where my sister took me to her house, recommending me take a bath to relax and try to rest and sleep to bear the weight of the rest of the day and that night that would be very long, she said. Our father would be buried at four o’clock the next day. Left alone, I took a hot shower, went to the single room and lay down, ready to sleep. When I was almost asleep, I heard a door slamming open and then someone’s footsteps walking through the house. I got out of bed and, opening the bedroom door, I saw the wonderful sight of the woman who stood in front of me, frightened. “Oh, sorry, Deputy. I did not know you were here. I missed you there in the house above, “she told me, referring, of course, to my parents’ house. I told her then that she did not have to apologize, that I was just resting a little and asked her who she was, because I did not remember seeing her before. She told me it was Altiva, my sister’s sister-in-law. That I had come down the backyards to go to my parents’ house. He said he did not like walking down the street and the little square when he went there. He preferred to go through the yards. I told him that I could be comfortable, that I would stay there until later, and I asked him to talk to my mother and my sister that I was well, that they did not have to worry. I would go to sleep and not have to worry that I would meet them later. She gave me a charming smile and headed to the yards, leaving behind a scent that insisted on not evaporating and I, watching with the eyes of the balance of her ass, walking among the trees in the yards. When I woke up, the night had already arrived and I was feeling much better disposed. I passed the yards and went upstairs as Altiva had referred to my parents’ house. When I remembered her, I wished she were still there. Oh, how good it would be to fuck this Altiva, I said to myself. I stood beside my father’s coffin and stood there to stand beside him as long as my eyes held open. So I saw my mother retire to her room with my sister, while Altiva, my sister-in-law’s sister-in-law and my brother-in-law, Armando, approached and stood beside me and beside my father’s coffin. Shortly after, Armando patted my shoulder, got up and retired. We and Altiva were accompanied by some people who would surely spend the night there, next to my father, paying him his last respects. Just before midnight, my sister, Armando and my mother came into the room and came to us, recommending we rest a little. Altiva got up, said something in my sister’s ear, and nodded, agreeing to say “go with her.” I followed Altiva and saw that she had stopped, sitting on the step of the stairs leading to the yards. There, he motioned for me to sit down. For a few minutes we did not speak, we just sat there, silent, sitting side by side. Then, without saying a word, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and she leaned against me. I turned her around and we looked straight ahead. Eyes in the eyes, we kissed. Slightly at first, we increased the intensity of the kiss until our mouths were crushed into a wild sucking of lips and tongues. I felt her trembling in my arms as my whole body reacted as if an electric spark had involved me like lightning. My cock was so hard that I wanted to put it there now, without waiting for anything else. “I want to fuck you now. I can not take it anymore without fucking you. ” She pulled her body away and stood up and pulled me into a dark corner by the side of the house, where my mother had a kind of inner garden. There, we hugged and she pulled out my dick, bent down and began to suck deliciously, thrusting into her mouth, sucking her mouth and licking, repeating this operation over and over again. He did not let me enjoy it. Taking off her panties, she whispered in my ear. “You want to fuck me up, fuck you hot. But I’ll want more in the house downstairs. ” I put her on the four of them in the dark corner and she leaned against the wall as I shoved my **** into her pussy until nothing was left out. She jerked her butt up and down as I tucked in and pulled out the stick, shoved it in and out faster and faster, deeper and deeper. When I was going to cum, I took the stick out and she stuffed it in her mouth, hot and wet, making me fill that pretty little mouth with fucking. Then, hugging each other, we went down the backyards to fuck her a lot more that night at my sister’s house. I knew that first night of my mourning was going to be fucking.

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