What if She's a Witch?

What if She's a Witch?

He's under her spell; powerless to resist her charms

Amira was my former babysitter. Even back in those days, when she was in high school and I was just a little boy, I knew she was different. It wasn't just her shockingly dark hair and skin so creamy and perfect it almost glowed—although that was certainly the thing you noticed first. What really set her apart was her mystique.

Even then she was spooky, almost otherworldly. She had her own unique style. Because of her hair and fondness for wearing black chokers around her neck, some people would have called it Goth, but she didn't really buy into that whole aesthetic, or any other for that matter. She didn't push people away; she drew them in. Her world seemed infinitely more lively and fun than the drab, commonplace reality of life when she wasn't around. I liked her immensely. Out of all my babysitters, she was by far my favorite.

Once, when my parents were off to a Halloween party, Amira put on an elaborate fortune telling session for us. She brought costumes and tarot cards, astrology tables, even a crystal ball. One of the questions, of course, was who would I marry someday. My little sister, Sarah, was especially delighted when the cards, the stars, and the spirits all said the same thing: one day I would marry Amira.

I remember being embarrassed but not horrified at the thought. Amira seemed amused at first, and then increasingly excited as every fortunetelling method yielded the same result. When it was all over I remember she held my face with both hands. I could feel her long fingernails digging in behind my ears as she looked into my eyes and said, with great intensity, "You're mine now, Stephen. You're mine." It sent a chill straight through me, down into my bones, and stuck there. But I was not afraid. It was merely a simple fact, and I trusted her implicitly.

Sometimes I think that was the day I first fell in love with her, although I can't say I thought of it that way at the time. I was still busy being a kid whenever Amira wasn't around. Not long after the big fortunetelling show she moved away for college. I didn't see her again for almost sixteen years.

I could never quite forget about her, though. Little things would sometimes remind me of her. For example, black cats. Amira absolutely loved black cats. Then every so often, maybe a couple times a year, Amira would appear in one of my dreams.

As I got older, there were other girls in my life. I had a few relationships, a couple of which felt serious, graduated from college, somehow got into a decent law school, did well, and eventually got an offer to join probably the most prestigious law firm back in my old home town.

Mom decided to throw me a sort of graduation/congratulations/welcome back party. She happened to run into Amira at the florist's and decided on the spot to invite her. That's how our paths crossed again, after so many years.

I was 26, a newly minted attorney. Amira was 34 and working in the flower shop. At our little party of mostly relatives and my parents' friends, she really stood out. Same creamy skin, same raven hair. I remembered those. But now I was also noticing dark sparkling eyes that could swallow a man whole. And her lips were tantalizingly full and luscious. She drew them back into a smile and my heart stopped. My life changed. I knew it instantly, even before she spoke.

"Stephen! Look at you! You sure grew up nicely—but of course I always knew you would."

"Amira! You look... amazing... kind of the same! I mean I remember you were pretty but... you look great!" It was the best I could stammer out. "How've you been?"

"Good. Better now."

"You know you were always my favorite babysitter."

"That's what your mom said. You were my favorite too. I hope you don't mind that she invited me. I thought it'd be fun to see how my little man turned out. Big time lawyer! Not too bad, Steepo." She used her old nickname for me. Nobody else had ever called me that.

"Not at all. I'm just happy there's somebody here besides me that's under 50. I feel like I don't really know anybody in town anymore, at least nobody close to my age."

"Well you know me. I'd be happy to show you around if you like. Show you the cool places the old folks don't know about."

"Careful, I might take you up on that."

"Please do. I mean it. I'd love to show you a few things."

I was trying to figure out if she intended that the way it sounded. She'd always been the older woman I looked up to. Even though I'd learned a bit over the years, I had no doubt there were many things she could teach me. I smiled a little. My reaction prompted a smile from her in return, but I still couldn't read her. I probed. "No boyfriend... or husband who might object to you spending time with a strange man?"

"Oh God no!" She laughed. Then her expression changed. "First of all, you're not that strange, and besides that, I've got a girlfriend." She must have seen the reaction flash across my face, even though I'd tried not to let it show. "Kidding! I'm just messin' with ya!"

"Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised. You always knew how to keep people guessing."

"That's my specialty."

Just then Uncle Ron grabbed my arm and tore me away. I resolved to talk with Amira again, but the opportunity never presented itself that night. A few minutes later she pressed a small slip of paper into my hand while I was chatting with our former neighbors.

"Sorry to interrupt. I've gotta run, Stephen, but text me. I mean it."

I looked down at the paper and unfolded it. It was a phone number. When I looked up again, she was gone.

After the party I made sure to dig in a little with Mom. I figured I could count on Mom to have hoovered up the basics.

The details of Amira's story, as I got them from Mom, didn't quite match up. How could such a stunning creature still be single? I knew she'd gone to college. Why was she working such a low-level job? Mom said it seemed to her like Amira had been adrift, that she hadn't yet found a path. It was kind of obvious she didn't exactly blend in. Mom thought people who were "a little different" typically gravitated towards big cities, not smaller ones like ours.

A failed marriage or relationship? A broken career path? Drugs? Mental Health struggles? We didn't know Amira's story. She'd been back in town for over a year, even though her family no longer lived here. What drew her back? She hadn't made any effort to reconnect with anyone or joined any groups, or really done anything at all to fit in or get established. It seemed to Mom like she didn't even want to. Mom was usually pretty good about getting information out of people, but with Amira, she'd not gotten much.

Yes, I found Amira alluring. The 8-year age difference between us had once seemed like a chasm; now it didn't seem so large at all. Was she interested in me? It seemed possible, but also far from certain. In either case, she'd offered to show me around, and I planned to eagerly accept.

That night, for the first time in many months, Amira came to me again in my dreams. I don't usually remember my dreams, but this one was so vivid, so strong it seemed real. My heart was racing when I woke up. It took me a few moments to get my bearings.

I was in a large green field on a gently sloping hillside. There was a lone tree near the crest of the hill, a couple of hundred yards in the distance. Amira was up ahead, calling to me to keep up and join her as we made our way towards the tree. I could hear her voice clearly. It rang through the air like music. She was beautiful, smiling, wearing a flowing peasant dress. When I reached her, she laughingly pulled me down. We rolled in the grass, kissing playfully. Her scent blended with the green grass and fresh earth in a way I found completely intoxicating. Our passion was heating up and I knew we were about to make love.

Then suddenly the grass was on fire, flames were closing in all around us. We were trapped, unable to make it to the tree. We stood, looking desperately for a way out. Then Amira was gone. I was alone surrounded by fire, and Amira was under the tree, calling again for me to come join her.

"But the fire!" I yelled above the roar. "What if I die?"

She answered me. "It's OK. I'll take away your pain."

That's when I woke up.

I'm not a superstitious guy. Yeah, that dream was weird. I admit it spooked me a little. But I convinced myself it was only a dream. I texted her around noon the next day.

"Hey Amira, it's Stephen."

"Hey Stephen."

"I'd like to cash in your offer to show me what's new in town, if the offer still stands. If not, no worries. Your convenience."

"Sure. How about tonight?"

"Tonight would be great! What time?"

"Pick you up at 7:00."

"7:00 is perfect. BTW I'm not living at Mom's. I've got a place. 666 Sycamore, #3"

"Even better. See you soon."

What did that mean, 'Even better?' Was she just happy for me that I had my own place? Did that mean it'd be easier for us to...? I was getting ahead of myself. I had another thought too, and a sliver of doubt. I decided to text her back.

"Dress code?"

"Coat and tie, naturally. Our most promising up-and-coming attorney? I'm surprised you even had to ask!"

Not what I expected. Was she putting me on? Why did I ask that anyway? Crap. Now I was in it. I went to my closet and picked out something I could wear with khakis, so I hopefully wouldn't look too out of place if I had to lose the tie and go with just the shirt and pants.

Getting ahead of myself is kind of a bad habit of mine. Did I really want to get involved with the weird girl, even if she was incredibly hot? My spidey senses were throwing out caution signs. I usually listen when that happens. But this was Amira, my old babysitter. I knew her when she was... when we were just kids. I remembered the old fortune she'd told for me, for us. That was just a cute story, but it gave us something to build on. I took stock of my situation. I was lonely, and also I was horny. It had been over a year since my last girlfriend. I told myself to be brave, and I made that fateful leap.

After all, she was just showing me the town. This wasn't even a date. Except I knew it was more. I knew that if she gave me any kind of a chance, I'd take it. I even knew it wasn't likely to lead to a perfect happily ever after. I did it anyway.

Was it just the power of the pussy? Especially to a lonely man, the power of the pussy is strong. Better men than I have found themselves unable to resist, even when it's against their best interests. Plus Amira really knew me. There's just that extra level of comfort you have with people who knew you as a kid. We might have a deeper connection too, and I was at the point in life where that's what I was really starting to look for. Or was there some other power at work that I didn't even understand?

Whatever it was, I ran towards it. I ran around town like a nerdy young fool preparing for prom with the homecoming queen. I bought a new shirt. I got a haircut. The hair place also offered manicures, so for the first time in my life, I got one. I joined a health club. I got a steambath. I stopped and bought condoms, just in case. Never in my life had I wanted so badly to impress a girl. Moot Court had given me experience at gearing up to present at my best. When Amira pulled up. I was in peak form.

I opened the door and gave her my best smile.

She was wearing skinny jeans and a simple cotton top, both black to perfectly complement her hair. She took one look at me. "Oh My God Steppo!" She laughed. "Didn't you know I was kidding? Nobody wears a coat and tie anymore, especially not in this town. New York, maybe, but not in Eagle Creek!"

My armor was so thick it bounced off. "No worries." I threw off the coat, ripped off the tie, unbuttoned my collar, rolled up my sleeves, and within seconds I'd transformed, unbothered and totally non-plussed. "Captain Casual, at your service."

Amira laughed. "Not bad, Captain. Not bad at all."

"Let's go."

"Aren't you going to invite me in? Show me around your new place?"

"Sure. If you like. But there's not much to see. Sorry, most of my stuff is still in boxes."

"That's OK. Is your bed set up?"

"Yeah..." That seemed like a funny question.

"Can I see it?"

"Sure." I walked her back through the living room of my small apartment towards the bedroom door.

She walked past me into the bedroom and turned around. "Do you think we should fuck before we go out, or after?" She was looking straight at me, and she spoke very matter-of-factly. Was this a joke? It didn't seem like she was joking.

"Uh..." My breath caught in my throat as I took her in. I felt a twinge as a surge of hopeful blood entered my cock. It was like it heard the call.

"I think both. What do you think? Both?"

"Uh... I'm good with that." She'd thrown me off my game, but I was trying hard to catch up fast.

"Good. You do want to fuck me, don't you Stephen?"

"Uh. Of course I want to fuck you. You're gorgeous."

"That's the spirit. It's our fate, Steppo. You can't fight fate." She was perfectly calm, and her energy was totally focused on me. "You've always known it would come to this, haven't you?" She pulled off her top.

"I suppose so. I had a dream about you last night."

"And I've been dreaming about you all my life. This is going to be really good. You'll see." She started shimmying out of her jeans. "What are those?" She saw me pulling the condoms out of my pocket. "We won't need those, lover. I only go bareback with you. I need you to put a baby in me."

"Whoa. Don't you think that's going a little fast?" The feeble vestiges of my resistance gave a dying gasp as I stared at the temptress in black bra and panties.

"I'm 34, so if we're going to have six kids, we can't waste any time." She smiled at me and pulled the covers off my bed.

"Yeah I guess not." I remembered then that was part of what our shared fortune foretold. She would bear me six children, three sons and three daughters. Amira took off her bra and turned to face me. Her breasts were spectacular, perfect in every way. I stood stunned.

"Did you want me to undress you?" Her manner was still surprisingly unaffected, not really seductive, but her eyes were drawing me in. Her body was sending powerful signals. She did really want this, that was clear, and she wanted it right now.

My cock wanted it too. My cock was insisting on it.

"Uh. That's ok. I think I've got it." I kicked off my shoes and socks, trying not to let my eyes leave her. By the time I started unbuttoning my shirt, she was naked. She stood there and watched. Her hungry eyes never left me. When I took off my pants, she dropped to her knees in front of me. She reached out, grabbed my hard cock and started rubbing it around her face as she looked up at me.

"I love the feeling of your cock against my face." She held it tight against her, closing her eyes as she rubbed it all around. Don't you love it? Mmmmm." Tight against her lips and nose and cheeks, feeling it on both sides, giving it a kiss. "So big and hard for me. It makes me so wet" she opened her eyes and I immediately fell into the middle of those endlessly deep black pools. "Your cock in my hands is like a magic wand. It's going to make me feel so good. This is going to change our lives forever, the minute you cum inside me."

She let go, climbed onto the bed and lay back to await me in the middle. I crawled up to join her.

My cock was throbbing. I moved in to kiss her. As our lips met, her whole body melted into me. The world started spinning slower. A force was pulling me into her, unstoppable, like gravity. There was pressure, a little resistance, and then welcome as I crashed through the gates. I heard her moaning. That sound came from somewhere profoundly deep. It was both indecipherable and unmistakable.

I realized my cock was being exquisitely squeezed all around. I was thrusting with long strokes, deep and hard, insistent, constant, like a drum beat, with a little grinding at the end. Then came the mantra, deeper, harder, more. Just those simple thoughts, and the sensations I was feeling consumed me. Deeper. Harder. More. I don't think she was actually saying it, but somehow I was hearing and feeling it in time with the drums. So I gave it to her, again and again and again, feeling her responding to the pounding of every stroke, until the voice said, "now cum," and I did, with all I had to give.

I released a million swimmers, give or take, straight down the pipe, sent them off to fulfill their purpose. She held me inside her. For the longest time she held me, squeezing. Feeling me, all there was of me. And then she released me, and I rolled off to the side, panting and covered in sweat.

She let out a contented sigh and came over to kiss me. "Mmmmm. That was good, baby. That was real good. Looks like little Steppo has grown up."

"Jesus, Amira, what you do to me!"

"Jesus has nothing to do with it, baby."

"Hhmph," I exhaled. "No. That's right. It's all you!"

"And that fucking magnificent cock of yours!" She reached out and took hold of it. "This is only for me now. This cock belongs to me just like my pussy belongs to you. You're mine. Do you want me to be yours?"

"I do."

We kissed some more, cooling down. We cuddled, but only a little before she said. "Let's get going. We've got a town to see. Then back here for a nightcap." She slapped me on the ass, popped up out of bed, and started getting dressed.

I watched her for a minute, just reveling in looking at her. She was so beautiful. Then reluctantly, I got up and followed her lead.

She showed me a few interesting places that night. The town wasn't too big. There was a food truck with fantastic Korean fusion tacos. I had four. There was a funky little bar in a basement downtown that served great margaritas. I had two. We went to a club where the live band was surprisingly good. I had a couple more drinks. Being with Amira made it all feel special. I felt like I was finally living my life in color, after all this time.

We made out in a booth at the bar, sucked face in the car, and fucked again that night, two more times. The next day she helped me unpack the rest of my stuff. She moved in a few of her things to go along with mine. I don't really remember telling her she could, or that she even asked. It was all kind of assumed. I didn't try to slow her down. Yes it was fast. It was too soon. I knew that, and yet I wanted it. So I let it happen. This girl was major league. There was no way I could ever hope to do better.

At some point during those first few days I remember asking her, jokingly, "What is this weird effect you have on me? I can't seem to refuse you. Are you sure you're not some kind of a witch or something?"

Amira laughed. "Maybe you're just in love with me, did you ever think of that?"

"I don't know. Maybe that is it." Yes, she'd kind of gone there first, but I felt OK with it.

"Of course it is. I told you, Steppo, we're meant to be together. It's fate. We belong to each other."

"Is that what love is?"

"Love is whatever you make of it. It can be the most powerful, perfect force on Earth, or it can be a lie. Love can unite us, or divide us. I choose unite. What do you choose?"

"Unite. If it's with you I choose unite."

"Good. Always choose me, Stephen, and I will always choose you. Ever since I saw your fortune, I've known we'll always be united."

Amira always had an answer, whether it was word games or mind games, doubts or fears, she always had an answer.

She never left after that first night. We waited a month until we told my Mom. I was happy. After a long dry spell, I was getting laid every night, at least when Amira wasn't on her period, and I was getting blowjobs when she was. The sex was good, by far the best I'd ever had. She was enthusiastic, creative, fun, and so damn beautiful! She seemed to sincerely enjoy being with me, both in bed and out of it. I was on such a confidence high I was knocking it out of the park at the law firm too.

Sometimes when we were together it felt almost like I was paying tribute to the irresistible force that was her pussy. But I was happy to provide it. To be kept by her, just to be her boy toy if she wanted me that way seemed not so bad. It would be so easy, so simple, so peaceful. Just serve her and I could be happy. I knew that in return I had a trophy that made me the envy of any man.

We got married at the end of August, two months to the day since my welcome home party. We did it in front of a judge downtown. Amira wasn't one for churches. Because I hadn't yet accrued time off, a proper honeymoon would have to wait. Then on September 6th she told me she was pregnant.

My life had changed in a whirlwind. It seemed like in no time I became firmly entrenched as a married man with a family. My career was going great. We bought a house. We kept having more kids. Amira stayed home to raise them. I poured myself into providing for my family, at least when I wasn't pouring everything else I had into keeping her womb full of my seed.

Our sex life was great, especially for a couple with young children. She'd jokingly tell me a "hot meat injection" was just what the doctor ordered to ease her stress and mine. I was happy to provide. She looked incredible. Anytime she wanted to, she could just look at me and get me hard, just flip the switch, and I was immediately turned on.

She was great with the kids. She just had a way with them. They rarely acted up, rarely cried or were out of control. She nearly never lost her cool, but a couple of times, when they seemed to team up against us I saw her lose it. She got this intense look, just fire aimed straight at the offending little monster while she screamed "D'renthra Uhulu!" and with a wave of her hand they were silent. I'd never seen anything like it.

"What was that?" I asked her the first time.

"Oh that? Just an old gypsy trick my grandmother taught me." Then she laughed. "Didn't you know I have gypsy blood?" She teased. "So you better watch it, mister!" She laughed again, then noticed my stunned reaction. "Oh Steppo. Don't worry. You have nothing to worry about with me."

I wasn't worried. I just felt lucky. Seriously, at home I was having incredible sex, and at work I was having incredible success. I was bringing in some big clients. I was winning all my cases, or getting them settled with favorable terms. They told me I was on track to be made a partner soon, the youngest partner the firm had ever had. The associates nicknamed me "Lucky," and made it a joke to rub my head if they happened to pass behind me. The money was good too, and steadily getting better.

Once after Amira dropped by the office to bring me dinner when I had to work late, I happened to overhear a couple of my female coworkers talking before they knew I'd returned from the lobby.

"Can you believe that woman is 37 with four preschool-aged kids at home!"

"I'm 29 and beat to shit with just two!"

"Tell me about it. And I hear she's pregnant again."

"No! Oh my god, haven't they heard of birth control?"

"Stephen says she doesn't believe in it."

"I didn't know they were Catholic."

"They're not. Not Mormon either. She just doesn't believe in it. They plan to have six."

"I can't imagine."

"I know. And she still manages to look like that."

"It's just not fair."

"Not fair at all. I don't know how she does it."

"No idea. Maybe we should ask her what her secret is."

"I'm thinking blood sacrifice... she sold her soul... something like that."

"Oh stop!"

"I'm serious!" They both laughed. "Not really... but kind of!" They both laughed again.

I quietly crept backwards and made noise near the entryway to announce my presence. "What's so funny? You know I hate to miss a joke."

"Nothing. Just girl talk."

I let it go. They weren't exactly wrong. Amira looked amazingly good. If I had one small complaint it was that blowjobs had dropped way off since our first kid. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had one. She sometimes joked about how she didn't want any of my stuff to go to waste. Still, I felt like my small complaint wasn't uncommon for a married guy. She was still an enthusiastic and terrific lay. I knew most of the other guys were jealous of what I had. A couple of them even told me so. I didn't feel too deprived. I really couldn't complain.

During those years I did have a couple of moments, a couple of quick panic attacks where I felt kind of trapped. I thought it was just the weight of all the responsibility I felt, both to my clients (the pressures at work seemed to increase the more successful I became) and also the need to keep it all going, to provide for my wife and kids. But those moments were just hiccups in what seemed overall to be a pretty nice life.

Then it happened again not long after we had our fifth.

There was a lunar eclipse. Amira was putting the baby to bed and then reading stories to the others. It was a brief moment of calm and peace for me. I walked out into the back yard to have a look at the heavens.

Then the weirdest thing happened. As I saw the Earth's shadow start to creep slowly across the surface of the Moon, I felt a slowly growing sense of dread. As my apprehension grew, so did my sense of clarity. Amira had done this to me. I was being manipulated. This life hadn't been my choice, it had been hers! Somehow she controlled my emotions, put the fix in on my cases at work. It wasn't me, it was her! My heart started racing. She controlled even my own thoughts! I was a prisoner! I was under some kind of spell! I had to get away!

I started to run. I didn't know how or why, but I was overcome by the strong sense that I needed to escape. I burst through the gate from the back yard, out into the street, and I started to run. I didn't know where. I just needed to get away, as far and as fast as I possibly could. I ran past the end of our street, down to the main road. I ran past the school, and cut across the field. I ran past the park, clear to the outskirts of town. I ran beyond, until I got to the woods. At the edge of the trees I stopped and looked back, my chest heaving, my heart pounding.

The Earth's shadow was starting to clear the Moon. I could feel my thoughts changing back. What was I doing?

I'd had those panic moments a couple times before, but never this strongly. This had been a full lunar eclipse. The news said it was the first in over four years, that was since before I'd married Amira, although we'd had two other nearly full eclipses in that time. Had those coincided with my previous panic attacks? There was no way to know. I didn't chart when those had occurred.

Then it seemed absurd. What was I running from? From a woman who loved me and children who needed me? Was I simply fleeing responsibility? What kind of man does that? Not me! I'm not that kind of man. How could I think Amira was controlling me when all she did was love me and give me children? The last of Earth's shadow cleared, and my panic was gone. I felt foolish. What sort of superstitious nonsense had I let into my head? How could I let it get to me like that? I started walking slowly, shamefully, guiltily back towards home.

Amira had not waited up for me. If she'd looked, she would have seen my phone on the kitchen counter where I'd left it. The kids were sleeping. I took a quick shower to wash off the sweat and crawled into bed to try and catch a couple hours sleep too before I had to get up for work. Amira didn't even ask me about it the next day? Did she even know that I'd gone? Maybe she just went straight to bed after tucking in the kids. Sometimes that's how it was. Sometimes I stayed up late with work I'd brought home.

I decided if she wasn't going to say anything, then I damn sure wasn't going to either. We resumed our life of domestic bliss.

At work, the partners hired a new junior associate. Paloma was straight out of law school, young, brilliant, and unusually beautiful. For some reason, Amira did not like her. I never gave her any cause to be jealous, but after meeting Paloma at a company event, back in the car she said, "I don't like the way that woman looks at you."

"What? Paloma? Looks at me how?"

"I don't like it is all."

And that's all she said. But later that night, Paloma was tragically killed in a freak auto accident. That felt a little weird. That was freaky. But I'm sure it was just a coincidence..

Amira gave birth to her sixth child earlier this year, just like she always wanted. Since little Damian arrived, our sex life has fallen off some from the incredible pace we managed to keep up before. She can still get my dick hard just by flashing me her special smile. She can still make me crave the taste and feel of her just by wiggling her ass. But those times are fewer and farther between now. After all, we've got six kids. What should I expect? I'm still working 65 hour weeks. My career is still going well. I'm still "happy." I still love my kids. I wouldn't trade them for the world. But I wonder.

There have been so many little signs sometimes I wonder if somehow Amira is some kind of a witch, or a sorceress, something like that. Well if she is, what of it? Am I in control of my own life and mind? Maybe not. But is it so bad? Maybe it's ok after all. I ask myself questions like, "What is freedom? Is it just an illusion? Do any of us really have free will?"

Do we? Do you? Are you sure? On those few occasions when Amira and I still have sex, it's still great, mind-bending, and completely satisfying. How many people have that? How many people can say that? I know I have it good.

If I'm in prison then I guess I've chosen my jailer. Escape would mean giving everything up, and creating a special kind of jail for my kids. And with six, I have to also think about grandkids, the generations, my legacy. Is my freedom worth putting all that at risk? Not when the prison has velvet bars, not when the people I care most about are trapped inside.

When I was younger I used to fantasize about being a male porn star. Maybe the way I got myself into this was kind of like how I imagine it is for those guys. The job may have its downsides but you can't deny the pussy is incredible, too good to walk away from. The girls might not really love you but when your dick's inside her a guy can pretend. And sometimes when you pretend really hard it kind of becomes real, or at least real enough to get you through. You might have your doubts every now and then but the next day there's that pussy again, and the girl calling your name when she cums. You left it all inside her and even if it was just a moment damn that felt good!

Amira and I talked the other day. We decided that with six kids we need to take out a big life insurance policy, just to be safe, just in case. If something were to happen to me, I need to make sure my family would be provided for. It's not going to be cheap, but the peace of mind will be worth it.

I also found out that both her mother and her grandmother were widowed before they were 40. Amira will be 40 on her next birthday. Do you think I should be worried?