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Coup de Grace
Coup de Grace
He finds that he is near the end. This string of battles has been anything but dull, but in the final reality he wants something else. A loopy daydream of partnership, the coupling of equals, mutual uplift. Like it was when they danced. Three years ago. He rings the doorbell.
Quiet footsteps. A lock sliding open. The door. She’s naked, standing there like he’s taking a survey. He wonders if they can be seen from the shopping center. She smiles and slaps him, hard. He spins away and holds his jaw.
“God… damn… mother…” A set of stairs, right in front of him. He could be gone so fast. He makes the mistake of looking back. She has positioned herself on all fours, her ass aimed his way, wide open. He leans down and inserts a finger.
“Can we do this inside?”
“No. Right here or nothing. If you want, you can keep your jeans on. Pussy.”
He is, after all, human and male. He unzips, extracts his dick and plunges home. Zelda lets out a guttural “Ungh!” and pounds back, berating him to the beat. Edward doesn’t hear a word, he’s watching the movie, intent on completion.
Soon enough, the moment arrives. He stops to watch as his cock pumps fluid into her body. He gives her ass a parting slap, stuffs himself back into his jeans and hits the stairs. He hears yelling. A potted plant smacks the asphalt, a firework of terra cotta. The door slams.
He zips up and wanders to the shopping center, an obstacle course of strolling families who know exactly what he’s been doing. Buca di Beppo. Lisa’s Tea Treasures. He is a homing pigeon, reading the magnetic waves. The courtyard. The coffeehouse. The pepper tree. A magnificent woman in a white dress. She sets down her caffe Borgia and smiles.