Paying what I owe

I sat on the front row of my grandfather’s funeral with dry eyes. I glanced over my shoulder at the people around me. I could feel their stares. I could hear their whispers. They all knew. I glanced over at my aunt, Nica. She was crying her heart out. You would’ve thought that she cared that much about her father. From all the tears, you wouldn’t think that she had been MIA until the last year of her father’s life.

But I had been there.

I had been the only one there with him. That’s why it had had to be me. Everyone knew that. They knew everything. I heard some whispering and looked over my shoulder to see a woman a couple rows back pointing to me and whispering to the woman beside her. I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up and walked out. Right when they were viewing the body. I went out to the hearse and cried. They all knew.

All of the crying eyes and sympathetic faces in that room knew that John Cason had died with his hard old 70-year-old dick buried deep inside of his granddaughter’s sweet little cunt. It was unbearable. I had to get out of there. I left the funeral walking. When I got home, I packed my bags and headed for the bus station. I didn’t even wait to say good-bye to Nica.

As the bus pulled off, I sighed a sigh of relief. In a couple of minutes, it would all be behind me. The further away from it all I got, the better I felt. I took a deep breath and blew out all the negativity I had in me. I tried to clear my mind of all of it. But the more I tried, the more clearly I saw him, felt his massive dick stretching me beyond imagination, tasted the salty musty flavor of his cum in my mouth. I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head. They wouldn’t budge. I sat back and tried a different approach. I let the thoughts come. I sat back and thought over the years. Thought of all the times he had fucked me, all the ways, all the places. I thought back to the very first day I had come to live with my grandfather.

I was thirteen years old. I had been living in foster care for a year and two months. Social services had finally taken me from my mother after busting in on us with my mother getting high and my oldest brother Mon bouncing me on his dick while by other brother shoved his in my ass. I had been in and out of four foster homes before they found a relative that would take me in. When my grandfather picked me up, I was so nervous. I had never met him before. I knew he was white because he was my mother’s father. I just didn’t know how he would react to having a black granddaughter.

But as soon as he laid eyes on me, his entire face lit up. He welcomed me into his life with open arms. He hugged me, told me that he had heard all about me. That he and I were going to live in Georgia, start a new life together. I was delighted. He was nowhere nearly as old as I thought he’d be and by no means frail. His hair was still black, but it was salted with gray. He stood about six feet even. His face was pleasant and, when we hugged, his body felt strong.

On the long drive to Georgia, we got to know each other.