THE FIGHT WAS FUCK


José Araujo de Souza

I left home to see the world at a very young age, hoping to be able to do what I wouldn’t be able to do while staying in my small town: study and become someone important. When he was twenty-eight years old, he could already consider that he had achieved both. He graduated in Law and held a position of relative importance as a Parliamentary Advisor in the Capital.
The deputy I was advising was serving his third term and had already confided to me that he would no longer run for re-election to the Legislative Assembly. I wanted to fly higher and run for the Chamber of Deputies, in Brasília, as a Federal Deputy. I was sure I would be elected. He informed me that he would launch me a candidate in his place for State Representative. And that he had already made this communication to the Party and its electoral bases. He made me agree with the idea and I agreed.
The electoral campaign was carried out in a fierce way, forcing me to deploy to meet all party demands, moving to all regions of the state, and I could not afford to do my campaign in just a few regions. After all, although the deputy who had launched me was well known, I was not. It was just someone with no political background and no name of importance on the state scene. So, I put myself on the field and traveled miles and miles of roads, good and bad, to introduce myself to my potential voters. I also spent dozens of hours in aircraft flying from here to there, from there to here.
At the end of the campaign, I couldn’t stand tired anymore and was physically exhausted. But elected. It was when, a few days after being elected, that I received the communication from my mother 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 ride offer made by a business friend and flew on his plane to my city for my father’s funeral. Having arrived there early in the morning, I was received at the airfield (it was what they called it). the airport) by my mother and my sisters. Although younger, my sister was already married, but she had no children.
As we went to my parents’ house, in whose living room my father’s body was being veiled, I could feel how much I was getting attention. Now it was still early, the house was full of friendly people and curious people who had come there when they heard that I would arrive, in order to see me. After all, I had left there still young and unknown to the majority of my countrymen and I was now returning, after some time, elected State Deputy awaiting the inauguration in January.
As my father and I didn’t see each other very often, although we spoke on the phone almost every week, his death left me very dejected and this dejection, aggravated by the tiredness and exhausting effort of the still recent election campaign, was enough for a emotional lack of control if it took over me. I poured out in convulsive and heartbroken sobs. My mother, frightened, perhaps because she did not expect such a reaction from her “deputy son”, as she has referred to me since my arrival, called my sister in a corner and told her “get the poor son of my deputy out of the crowd and take him home to see if he gets some rest ”.
My parents’ house, facing a small square, had a huge yard, which ended in a fence that separated it from my sister’s house yard,
that was on Rua dos Fundos, as we knew it. Thus, it was not necessary to go through the square and the street to go from one house to another. It was there, through the backyards, that my sister took me to her home, recommending that I take a bath to relax and try to rest and sleep to support the weight of the rest of the day and that night that would be very long, according to her. 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 the sound of a door opening and soon after someone’s footsteps, walking around the house. I got out of bed and, opening the bedroom door, I was faced with the wonderful view of that woman who stopped, frightened, in front of me. “Oh, sorry, deputy. I didn’t know you were here. I missed you, up there, ”she said, referring, of course, to my parents’ house. I told her then that I didn’t need to apologize, that I was just resting for a while and asked her who she was, because I didn’t remember seeing her before. She told me she was Altiva, my sister’s sister-in-law. That she had gone through the yards to go to my parents’ house. She said that she did not like to pass by the street and the square when she went there. She 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 sister that I was fine, that they didn’t have to worry. That I was going to sleep and they didn’t need to bother that I was going to meet them later. She gave me a charming smile and went to the yards, leaving behind a perfume that insisted on not evaporating and I, following with my eyes the sway of her ass, while walking among the trees in the yards.
When I woke up, the night had come and I was feeling much better. I passed through the yards and went upstairs as Altiva had referred to my parents’ house. When I remembered it, I wished it were still there.
Ah, how nice it would be to fuck this Altiva, I said to myself.
I stood next to my father’s coffin and was willing to remain there, beside her, as long as my eyes held open. So I saw my mother retire to her room accompanied by my sister while Altiva, my sister’s sister-in-law and my brother-in-law, Armando, approached and positioned themselves beside me and beside my father’s coffin. Shortly afterwards, Armando patted my shoulder, got up and left. Altiva and I were accompanied by some people who would certainly spend the night there, next to my father, paying his last respects. Just before midnight, my sister, Armando and my mother came into the room and came over to us, recommending that we take a break. Altiva stood up, said something in my sister’s ear, who nodded in agreement saying “go with her”. I followed Altiva and saw that she had stopped, sitting on the step leading to the yards. There, she motioned for me to sit down.
For a few minutes we didn’t speak, we just sat there, silent, sitting next to each other. Then, without saying anything, I put my arm around her shoulders and she leaned against me. I made her turn around and we looked at each other. Eye to eye, we kiss. Slightly at first, we increased the intensity of the kiss until our mouths were crushed in 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 enveloped 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’t take it anymore without fucking you ”. She moved away and stood up and pulled me to a dark corner beside the house, where my mother had a kind of indoor garden. There, we hugged and she took my cock, bent down and began to suck deliciously, stuffing it in her mouth, taking her mouth and licking it, repeating this operation several times. She didn’t let me come. Taking off her panties, she told me softly in my ear, “You want to fuck me now, fuck hot. But I will want more in the house below ”. I put her on all fours there, in the dark corner and she leaned against the wall while I stuck my dick in her pussy until nothing was left out. She wiggled, moving her ass up and down while I stuck it in and out, stuck it in and out faster and deeper. When I was going to come, I took the stick and she put it in her mouth, hot and moist, making me fill that beautiful little mouth with cum. Then, holding each other, we went down the yards to fuck much more that night, at my sister’s house.
I knew that first night of my grief was going to be awesome. And it was.

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