Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27763527-20160209062716

Hey guys, I just started a story a couple nights ago, and haven't gotten around to writing much more of it. I just wanted to post on here what I have so far and see if you think I should continue it or not.

-

Everything tumbled into phantom warfare the day I fucked Kaarina.



There wasn't much that happened in the few hours before Kaarina arrived. She has finished her laborious school day, and I had just ached through a full work day of hot coffee and fake conversations. Kaarina was here to work on a school project with my overweight daughter, Helen. Being as the so called planetarium for their science class was due tomorrow, I remember her arriving quite fast after the school day ended. Uninterestingly, there wasn't much else that happened before we would soon be trapped like hummingbird needle beaks in a savory smelling flower.



I want to clarify that on the day it happened, there had been a terrible snowstorm, like some Norse god was basically jizzing a continuum of endless frigid semen on the lower banks of the good ol' Appalachians. We had no running power that I recall, and the cold was slugging softly into the picture frame house we were helpless captives of.



Helen, being Helen, complained of hunger. Since I rushed home to beat the hellish ice-fest, I hadn't had the time to stop at the store for your daily snow fighting dose of milk and bread. Helen just rubbed her eyes and went into the kitchen to scavenge the ruins of crinkly ramen noodle packets and the one can of Del Monte pears I knew we had on the top shelf. Kaarina sat quietly on the wooden floor in the living room, dyeing the small styrofoam orb that I knew had to be Uranus in some watery blueberry Kool-Aid.



Hey Kaarina, I said.



Hi, she quirked back. Her voice was cuddly sometime, like how you would imagine a rosy cheeked diabetic angel to sound.



Which planet is that?



Neptune.



<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Oh, I thought it was Uranus.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Hehe, nope.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">At this point, I could feel a slight twitch in my upper triangle of my pants. The cute little laugh, the way her small fingers are so delicate to know to not get any sort of offending stain on them. I tighten my thighs slightly, feeling the first bubbly aroma of an erection budding.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Daddy, I can't reach the pears, Helen caterwauls from the kitchen. I know without looking she is on her toes swiping at the sugary canned fruit like a wild leopard who hasn't fed on the gore of another animal in a week.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Helen, just try to stand on the counter, I reply back in the nicest voice I can muster through masked frustration.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Daddy, please help me.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">I sigh slightly, feeling the tension release as I stand up.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Coming honey, I say.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Kaarina seems to not notice me as I pass her, but she is smiling while performing color magic on the orbs. Her brown, wavy hair is pillowed on her swan shoulders, while her immaculate green eyes are focused on the task at hand.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">I still remember the first time I ever wanted to fuck Kaarina Swanson.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">It was about three agonizingly long years ago, and Helen had just turned ten. A small party thrown together was enough to please her, as she wasn't a very luxurious child, but it caressed my frugal habits all the same. I'd been pretty much alone since Helen's mother died from an ice overdose in the back of some dealers van up on Burnt Mountain. Helen was about three, so luckily she didn't get too attached, or that might have been some pretty expensive therapy treatments later on in her life.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Continuing, the party as I stated was a fairly small affair, around four kids came. I had just finished masturbating in the upstairs bathroom while the raptors were eating the store bought Ingles bakery cake with a melting collage of Superwoman on it when the doorbell rang. Not expecting anyone else, I could very safely say I was a little nervous. No one ever visits us here, expect for Jehovah Witnesses that can't get the damn message that I would not like to partake in the holy reading of the Watchtower magazine. Before I could get to the door though, Helen was bouncing up down at the ringing, her stomach atrociously pingponging up and down.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Answer it answer it, she exclaimed.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Who is it sweetie, I thought everyone was here, I said.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Nonono I invited a new friend, she jumped up and down again.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Who?

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Just answer it!

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Not in the mood for more annoying conversation, I answer the door. A tall, burly man with a well trimmed mustache was standing right in front of me. I faintly remember him being slightly taller than me, with a testy look in his black pupils.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Can I help you sir, I questioned.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Here to drop my girl off, this is the party right, he questioned back.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Uh, yeah, bring her in.

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">

<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%">Kaarina where the hell are you? He looked around for a minute. <ac_metadata title="[Unfinished]- Lolita-inspired psychological horror/satire needed for review."> </ac_metadata>