PAIN. Based on a True Story

Maricela sobbed hysterically. Her face twisted,wrought with agony. She looked up to see Rafael's face, trying her best to catch his eyes. He was looking away. Far away.
"I beg you mi amor, por favor, answer my question. Do you love her?" her voice was shaky and cracked.
"I don't know. I swear to God, I don't know how I feel." Rafael replied solemnly.

Rafael and Maricela have been married for almost 12 years and they have been blessed with three kids, 2 boys and a girl in between. Marriage can be called a little too early for both of them, but she was pregnant and they mutually decided to tidy things up in their life. The family life has been peaceful and happy. They have their usual spats and trials like most married couples. except until the last few months.


Maricela just knew there was something wrong, not right. Something in her gut gave her acid reflux each time she noticed little and slight things that made her feel that Rafael had become distant, detached, less caring and attentive.


He had always been a quiet, reserved man of few words. Hard-working. Simple. Maricela also knew of his dark, passionate side. Over extended work hours for Rafael were rare, but lately, have become always. At home, he would close the door to his study, a unique thing he had never done, and this is where he tinkered on his laptop until the wee hours of the morning.
The sex had become more and more infrequent. However, it has been that way for several years. The last 2 or 3 times they had sex, he was savage, almost brutal and lustful like a beast. Maricela knew he was different.

It felt magnificent, except Maricela knew in her core he was fucking someone else. Her body just happened to be available for the taking. She recalls the last time, she tried her best to be a whore in bed for him to reciprocate the wild sex. 


But then he started moaning. She heard it. It was very faint, softer than a whisper, but he had said a name. Right in the middle of her multiple orgasms her tears flowed and she tried her best to choke back her whimpers. Maricela stared at her husband's face. He was in orgasmic ecstasy. His head thrown back, his eyes rolled up, his whole body shaking and profusely sweaty, he was biting on his lower lip. Then somehow his soul escaped. He mumbled a girl's name. Maricela felt her heart stabbed a hundred times with a jagged knife. As he rolled to his side, he turned his back on her and started snoring. Maricela was wide awake, she stared at the ceiling while her tears gushed uncontrollably.


She needed to know. She had to.
On that fateful, horrible night, Maricela crept stealthily into the study where he worked. He had headphones on and he never even noticed her presence. He was chatting with someone. She was appalled to see her husband playing with himself. He was saying things that made all the hairs in her body rise. He kept calling out her name, professing his love, lusting about her.

She stood frozen behind him in the dark. When she could no longer take it, she sat on the floor, covered her ears and quietly sobbed.


Maricela decided to confront him about that night and what she saw and heard. Rafael went crazy angry that she swore he was about to hit her.


She however has decided she will never give up her husband. He can lie. He can cheat. He can fuck "her" in bed or fuck her in his head. It doesn't matter. He comes home to her and their kids. She knows herself enough that she can live with the pain of another woman in his life, but she can not live with the pain of losing him in hers.

The Architect - A New Short Story

"What the fuck is taking her so long?  Where is she?"  Alvin muttered under his breath as he checks his watch.  It's half past the witching hour.  He flicks the stub of his last cigarette out of the half-opened window of his car.  As he crushed the empty pack, he realized he just opened that one a couple of hours ago.  He was having dinner with the the guys in his team.  He opens his glove compartment feeling with his hand to pull out a fresh pack. He stares at it for a moment, decides to put it down the console. He reclines his back on the driver's seat and twirls the lighter on his fingers.  

Alvin has been seated inside his car for the last six hours staring at the geometric, designed beach house. The sprawling beauty rests elegantly between trees, her back is splashed by soft waves of the Malibu shoreline.  An obrae maestra. Alvin is parked a good 6-7 metres away from the house, obscurely, a spot far from the street light.

He sighs as his mind flits back to thoughts about Marianne.  Marianne is the lovely lady who owns the house.  He looks out at the street and back to the house.  "She'll be home.  She never stays for an all-nighter.  She always comes home." Alvin tells himself loudly. A painful knot squeezes his heart and he shuts his eyes. He imagines her full, pink lips as they part when she is listening; the soft curve of her jaw that sets her finely chiselled face; mesmerizing hazel eyes; her long brown hair she tends to play with when she is in deep thought; a slim neck that leads to porcelain-clear skin and bountiful breasts ... ravishing. 

Alvin has been in love with Marianne for 4 years, 9 months, 17 days and about 7 hours. Sadly, she is NOT in love with him. Alvin believes in his heart someday she will be.  A successful architect and bachelor at 37 years old, Alvin has had at least 3 relationships; one of which was intimate.  They all ended rather sourly and no one comes close to how Marianne makes him feel.  She's the one.  The perfect one for him.  The only woman he feels worthy to be worshipped for the rest of his life.  

The beach house was his labor of love for Marianne.  He meticulously designed it to fit the most beautiful woman for him.  It took 18 months to build it. Tall glass windows,  high ceilings, airy, spacious, an elegant and dazzling structure.  He had dreamt of this design for her.  

However, in Marianne's eyes, Alvin was the kind and sweet Architect; once she has told him, "a good catch for some lucky lady."  Alvin's heart almost exploded with those words that he badly wanted to tell her, she is "the lucky lady."  

Alvin did ask her out once, but she had politely declined and kept their interaction within the boundaries of client-architect terms. Alvin did not see that as a rejection, it is just Marianne being the decent lady that she is.  It did not stop Alvin from longing for her, desiring her and loving her to great extents.  

He has kept a vigilant watch on her since a month after they met.  He has seen all the men who had been with Marianne and how she enjoys their company and attention.  There have been many men.  But across the street like a loyal guard dog, Alvin watches Marianne every day.  And tonight is just one of those many nights. A bitter acid stirs in his gut making Alvin lurch.  His ulcer cramps has kept him company on these nights.  Caffeine and nicotine acidity made him sick but he ignores these.

Through half-shut eyes, Alvin sees some distant light and hears the sound of an engine.  His heart races, he holds his breath, head bent low he peers through the heavily tinted wind-shield. 

Alvin has never been caught as he has mastered the science of stalking Marianne.  He is careful and cautious.  He focuses intently and sees a dark SUV stop right in front of Marianne's house. 

Alvin smiles and grabs his binoculars. A muscular tall and lean man in a light blue shirt and jeans gets off from the driver's side and moves quickly to open the passenger's door.  

"It's Marianne!" She gets down and Alvin sees her glowing skin barely covered by a short beige dress, her breasts cleavage stood proudly even in the dark.  He hears her voice and sensual laugh, "she sounds giddy." He watches more intently. 

Their arms were around each other's waist.  Alvin feels a rush of blood rise to his face, he bites his lips and grunts.  

The man and Marianne start to kiss, passionately; she threw back her head and was grabbing his hair.  Alvin's hands tightened on his binoculars, his head was buzzing with lack of sleep and the loud beating of his heart.  

They stop kissing and walk slowly to the porch.  Alvin sees the man's hand gently slide on Marianne's back stopping at her butt. Alvin hissed.  She giggles and wraps her arms around the man's neck and kissed him again. Alvin's stomach grumbled he had to duck as he feared that they might have heard the sound.  

Tentatively, he raises his head and sees the couple walk into the door and disappear from view.  

The lights went off in the house and Alvin switches to night vision. 

Right in the living room lounge he watches Marianne drop her dress, recline on the sofa, raise her legs, while the man goes down on her.

Alvin feels his body heat rise, his cock stirring, he quickly unzips his fly and with one hand strokes himself.  Alvin moans, licks his drying lips and imagines his tongue in Marianne's wet pussy; he is extremely aroused. 

His left hand grips tightly on the the goggles as he continually jerks his cock.  With Marianne's  legs up in the air, Alvin watches as the man moves to thrust his body into her.  He sees her mouth open in ecstasy and without missing a beat, Alvin jerks off while the man pumps into Marianne faster. Alvin swears he hears Marianne moan and call his name and he feels her body heat on his.

A couple of minutes later, Alvin adjusts his seat, opens the pack of cigarettes and lights one.  As he drags into the cigarette, he starts the car. 

He drives slowly past the house, blows a kiss.  Almost a little too loudly he said, "I will see you tonight my love!" 

Alvin drives on, checks the time, sees that it was almost six in the morning. He mumbles, "Two hours before work, yeah, just enough time."  Feeling light hearted, Alvin shouts at the breaking dawn, "I knew she will come home.  She always does!" And he smiles broadly into the rising sun.