The Gift

This story has been posted to Literotica.Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

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Brandon Simoneaux woke up, came to, head pounding mercilessly. His back ached; the fold-out bed in the downstairs den was not comfortable. He had a crick in his neck from the foam rubber pillow they kept in the downstairs coat closet.

The worst thing, even worse than the foul taste in his mouth, the pounding head, the roiling stomach was the knowledge that he had fucked up. He had once again slipped. He had once again drank, throwing away four months of sobriety.

"And no telling what that bitch..." Brandon muttered darkly as he wiggled into his jeans.

He did not bother stripping the sweaty sheets from the bed. He did not bother folding the mattress and putting the cushions onto the sofa again. Knowing his wife, Brandon would most likely be spending another night on the sofa.

In the half bath just to the left of the den, Brandon started in the standing position. That proved to be too difficult so he turned and plopped down onto the seat to finish emptying his bladder. Digging his cell phone out of his pocket, he saw that it was twelve minutes after eight. He had twenty eight percent battery and, in the enclosed space, he had three out of four bars. Scrolling through his contacts list, Brandon was just about to hit 'Samuel-AA' but hesitated.

"God damn and fuck; if I got to hear 'well did you pray about it?' one more fucking time," Brandon mumbled, wishing his head would just explode and get it over with.

Scrolling through his contacts again, Brandon saw Manny Kardoulis's phone number. They'd gone to school together; Kimble Academy and the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. In fact, Manny had been an usher at Brandon's wedding when Brandon had married Denise Thibodeaux, their former Computer Literacy teacher at Kimble Academy. Brandon hit 'Send' and waited.

Manny sighed heavily when he saw Brandon's name on his phone. He did not know why Brandon would be calling him; they were not friends. They'd gone to high school together and Brandon had bullied Manny without mercy. It had become intolerable when Manny had started dating Xyla Woods, Brandon's former girlfriend. Never mind that it had been Brandon that dumped Xyla. According to the etiquette, the rules of high school, Xyla Woods was still off-limits.

Then in college, seeing that his good looks, sports prowess and empty promises would earn him no sway with the university instructors, Brandon had sought Manny's help. Somehow, Brandon thought that they were now the best of friends, although it was a very one-sided friendship. Manny was supposed to be at Brandon's beck and call and never ever expect anything in return.

"Yeah?" Manny asked, not hiding his lack of enthusiasm.

"Hey, hey man, it, it's Brandon," Brandon said needlessly.

"Uh huh?" Manny asked, stepping out onto the back patio so that his voice would not disturb his wife's sleep.

"I uh, I fucked up man," Brandon admitted.

"And?" Manny asked, wishing Brandon would just get to the point.

"Yeah, I, you know how I had, I almost had five months? Without a drink or any drugs?" Brandon mumbled.

"Uh huh; you showed me your ninety day chip, medallion, whatever it's called," Manny agreed, making the 'hurry-up' motion with his hand.

"Yeah, well, I uh, last night, we uh, we went over to Big Rob's, you remember Big Rob? Robert Walker?" Brandon said.

"Yeah. Was a gigantic douche; I remember him. What about it?" Manny said, not hiding the impatience in his voice.

"Anyway, he uh, he had some tequila and you know tequila's my thing; shit, love tequila," Brandon enthused, warming up to the memory of the alcohol.

"What's Denise say about all this?" Manny asked, cutting Brandon off.

"I, man! Man, man, man, she, she is so pissed off, I mean, she was some pissed," Brandon admitted, losing his enthusiasm.

"I bet. I mean, after you totaled her car?" Manny agreed. "And that was after you'd totaled your Jeep, lost your license, hey. You ever get your job back?"

"No, no, they uh, they keep saying it'll be as soon as I get off probation," Brandon said.

"Well, don't look like that'll happen any time soon now, huh?" Manny said, enjoying Brandon's descent. "So, what you going do now, dude?"

"Fuck, just wish I was dead, dude. You know, just go ahead and kill myself," Brandon said. "Get it all out the way. Just get it over with."

"Really? Oh! Hey! Remember last year? When I took Xyla up to Colorado? Do some elk hunting? You know, when we brought you and Denise back those marijuana lollypops and that other stuff?" Manny smiled, remembering Denise had laughed uproariously over the various marijuana foods and the sodas.

It still felt weird calling her 'Denise' and not 'Mrs. Thibodeaux.' The majority of the male students had lusted after the voluptuous red head, striving to do their very best in her class. When they'd been in the eleventh grade, John Thibodeaux had abruptly left for parts unknown, leaving the young, attractive teacher and their ten year old daughter to fend for themselves. The male students had tried their best to attract the attention of the newly single teacher.

"Yeah, yeah, dick. I remember that. Fuck! Denise got so pissed off when I ate all them cookies," Brandon agreed somberly.

"Anyway, I never told Xyla, never told anyone, but we were out tracking a herd of elk and I got separated from the group," Manny continued. "I found this hollow log and sat down; you know, they say when you get lost, stay put. You wander around? Well, everyone's looking for you and you just make it that much harder for them to find you when you walk around."

"Really?" Brandon said. "Guess that makes sense."

"Anyway, sat down and the damned log just caved in, gave out," Manny said. "And inside? Found this backpack. Had three guns; a twenty five and two thirty eights. Serial numbers all scratched off. Bunch of old gold coins too. Damned pack weighed almost as much as me."

"No shit?" Brandon asked, incredulous.

"Anyway, those guns? No way can they be traced back to me," Manny said. "So, which one you want? The twenty five? No, no, you plan to do a head shot, right? A twenty five slug might just turn your brain to hamburger. Tell you what; I'll give you the thirty eight with the taped up grip."

"You serious?" Brandon yelled. "Really? I'm sitting here telling you I want to die and..."

But man, don't worry about Denise, hear?" Manny continued. "God damn; I know half the class wanted to fuck the shit out of her."

"Dude!" Brandon protested, infuriated.

"I mean, just think about it. Your pathetic drunk ass out the way? I know me and Big Rob, yeah, Big Rob, your buddy and Dylan, oh! Oh, and Andy, God damn, four of us making Denise airtight?" Manny taunted Brandon.

"Y'all come anywhere near my wife..." Brandon threatened, enraged.

"And dude, you do it today? A day for the autopsy; there's always an autopsy when there's a suicide, a day for the memorial service, the funeral?" Manny continued, ignoring Brandon's outrage. "Fuck yeah! That would free her up to really enjoy her Valentine's Day the right way. Taking on three or four...Shit! Gilligan! Man, I have got to get Gilligan in on this. Remember him? Fucking kid was hung like a donkey. What the fuck was his name?"

"Don't know. We just called him Gilligan 'cause he looked like that mother fucker," Brandon mumbled.

"And you know me; man, love creaming the titties. Xyla turned me on to that. I mean, she loves it in her cooch, loves it up the old Hershey Highway, but really want to get her off? Cream her titties," Manny said. "Think of it. As nice as her boobs are? I bet Denise would really love having four or five guys blowing their loads on those sweet titties, huh?"

Brandon was silent. His cock jerked and throbbed, rock hard as he imagined his beautiful wife, round globes and large pink areolae dripping with semen. He imagined her rubbing the sperm into her milky white breasts, smiling her special little smile, that smile she had when Brandon had pounded her good.

She'd not worn that smile in a while. Every time he tried to get anything started in their bedroom, Denise always had a million excuses. Most of the time, it was because of his drinking.

"And Penny, God damn but that girl is fucking gorgeous, huh?" Manny continued. "Think she'd like sitting on Uncle Manny's lap? Hey, think she'd like for Uncle Manny come tuck her in, read her a little bedtime story? You fuck that little bitch yet? She run around the house in just her special little pajamas ass all hanging out? Begging for you to just pound her ass hard?"

Brandon didn't answer. From the moment he and Denise had started dating, Penny, Denise's daughter from Denise's marriage to John Thibodeaux had done her absolute best to split them up. Even today, four years after their marriage, his eighteen year old step-daughter still referred to Brandon as 'He' or 'Him' and never his name.

And, yeah, the little bitch did run around their house, her Kimble Academy tee shirt stretched tight across her braless breasts, skimpy little panties barely covering her sweet little cooch, juicy ass hanging out begging to be slapped.

Denise still takes everyone to St. Patrick's nine thirty Mass, right?" Manny asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, she and Penny and Litle Brandon go to..." Brandon said, still visualizing his step-daughter's charms.

"So I'll pop on over about ten," Manny said. "Show you how the gun works and you can just go ahead and do it."

"You...you mother fucker," Brandon hissed, his anger flaring at his friend's callous, unfeeling nature.

"What? You, you're the one said might as well kill yourself," Manny defended. "It'll be the perfect time, and it'll be the best thing you could do for Denise. Free her up to get herself a lot of dick, huh? Valentine's Day right around the corner, you out of the way? I mean, what's the longest you been able to stay sober anyway? A weekd? Two weeks?"

Manny laughed out loud when Brandon ended the call. Shaking his head, he sincerely hoped it would be a long while before Brandon would ever think to call him again.

"I like it up the Hershey Highway, huh?" Xyla asked, meeting Manny when he stepped into their home.

"Uh huh, and like me creaming those perfect titties of yours," Manny smiled. "What you want for breakfast?"

"Eggs. And, biscuits and gravy," Xyla ordered, slapping him hard on his butt. "And don't even think about doing me up the butt, hear?"

As Manny put his cell phone into his pocket, Brandon finished washing his hands in his small downstairs bathroom. His cock still jerked and throbbed as he thought of his wife, with a few threads of silver mixed in with the coppery red hairs on her crotch, a penis in her mouth and her pussy and a third cock thrusting into her ass. She'd forbidden Brandon from ever having her ass; apparently John Thibodeaux had really hurt her the few times he'd taken her ass. But with three or four virile young men, Denise would be unable to stop them, unable to stop herself.

His step-daughter Penny gave him a sneer as he passed her on the stairs. Brandon's cock jerked and spurted some semen into his briefs as he thought about her joining her mother, lying on the large bed in their master suite, taking on three or four men of her own.

"Oh, look," Denise snarled bitterly when Brandon burst into their bathroom. "It's 'Mr. Let Me Drink Everything I Can Get My Hands On.' You know we have to buy Rob another bottle of that tequila. Eighty dollars a bottle, Brandon. Eighty dollars."

She was dressed in half-slip and panties. Her naked breasts dangled down as she peered into the bathroom mirror, using tweezers on her far too thin eyebrows. Denise could not admit it, but her eyesight was starting to fade, forcing her to get closer to their mirror.

"Ack! Bran, BRANDON! What? What are you doing?" Denise shrieked as Brandon savagely tore the plain white full briefs off of her full hips.

Brandon unzipped his jeans and freed his slender five inches. Holding the struggling Denise against the cold faux marble surface of the bathroom vanity, Brandon thrust his cock into her dry pussy.

Within moments, Denise was whimpering, panting, thrusting herself back to meet Brandon's hard thrusts. She managed a teeth grinding orgasm just before feeling his semen pumping into her.

And the moment he pulled his wilting cock from her sloppy pussy, Denise complained about him tearing a pair of her panties. Since he was unemployed they certainly had no money to waste on underwear and Little Brandon needed new shoes; he'd already outgrown his Spiderman tennis shoes.

Watching his dribble of semen oozing from her pussy gave Brandon a second erection and he shut his wife's barrage of complaints by re-entering her, still holding her in place.

"Oh! Oh, it, if you think you can just...oh God, you're just going shut me up by, God, God yes!" Denise moaned as her husband fucked her.

Imagining five or six or seven loads of semen dripping from Denise's stretched, raw pussy, more semen coating her face, covering the fine wrinkles that were ever so slowly and surely beginning to appear and yet more semen coating her breasts, Brandon ground his teeth. In his mind's eye, he could see Denise pretty little pucker flowered open, semen dribbling out and joining the trail of sperm leaking from her used pussy.

"Great. Just great, Brandon. Now we're going to be late. But let me guess; you're just too damned hung over to come with us," Denise complained, hurrying to pull her wool skirt on.

"I, yeah, yeah, sorry," Brandon mumbled, watching her sagging breasts as she wiggled into a plain white bra.

For Manny and Big Rob and Gilligan and Andy, Denise would wear that sexy black lace bra and the matching black thong, the set he'd bought for her last Valentine's Day. Looking at the scraps of lace, Denise had kissed him and had promised she'd wear it that night.

"Never did," Brandon muttered as he fished the bottle of Tylenol from the drawer.

"Is HE coming?" Brandon heard Penny ask her mother as Denise got Little Brandon ready.

"No," Denise said. "Brandon, come on, Sugar. Don't make this harder than it has to be. Let's get those Spiderman shoes on, okay Sweetie?"

"Well, if HE doesn't have to go, why do I?" Penny demanded.

"You're right. I could just leave you here with him," Denise offered. "You two can..."

Going into his son's room, Brandon located the boy's crayons. Taking a sheet of paper, Brandon drew a big red hart and wrote a simple message of love.

Dolly, their beloved Doberman pinscher had suddenly gotten sick and died just after Christmas. Brandon strongly suspected Dolly had been poisoned by the bastard that lived behind them; he was forever complaining about Dolly's barking.

For whatever reason, Denise could not bring herself to get rid of Dolly's chew toys, her bowls, or the strong nylon web lease. Brandon hooked the leash over the rail of the stairs.

.*.

"Yes, Penny, I'm sure HE will want to go with us to Dusty's," Denise snapped at her impertinent daughter as they entered the house through the garage. "Why do you have to be so hateful..."

Denise stopped and stared in horror as Brandon dangled from the bannister by a dog leash. Taped to his chest was a crude red heart with the message 'Because I love you.'

**Author's Notes: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my words, those that 'Favorite' my works.

Brandon Simoneaux is a minor character first introduced in 'Xyla' in the Fetish category. Xyla Woods, now Xyla Kardoulis and Manny Kardoulis are the primary characters in that story.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.