Falling for My Dirty Uncle

Fuck, I’m fucking gone for her.

Emmaline

I grip the steering wheel of my car, hard, desperate to get physical purchase since my emotional wellbeing is tumbling down the stairs of my mind.

Ethan is so incredibly, painfully right.

I’m that girl. I hate to be that girl, but, like, I so fucking am because there is no denying the truth now.

I love Ethan. I love Ethan more than I knew that I could. But after giving myself to him the way I did, and how he felt inside me. I’ll never feel truly alive again until I feel Ethan eat my breath off my lips while he drives his cock inside me. I know I’m in love with him. Completely fallen for him. And what am I supposed to do with my life now? What do I do with that?

I'm dangerously close to playing a sad song at top volume and singing alone in my most shrill voice because that’s the level of emotionally overwrought I am right now.

I’m not like my mother, or Ethan, able to read people. I don’t know if Ethan is falling for me, too, or not.

Fuck, I’m crushed at the possibilities weighing down on my brain right now. I don’t just want Ethan anymore, everything inside me is majorly bordering on need. But all my mind wants to do is remind me of all the very clear and obvious, big honking reasons that our relationship isn’t that. Ethan and I? We could never work.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

I will take three deep breaths, and then I will call Delia.

Inhale.

Everything is terrible and I want to drive my car into a tree and die with Ethan's cum still inside me.

Well, aren’t I dramatic?

Exhale.

Okay, let’s try again.

Inhale.

It was just sex though, right, like why am I being crazy?

Exhale.

As fucking if. I’m not losing my mind for nothing over here.

Inhale.

I push out and exhale right away.

I have violated the deep breath relaxation technique’s rules that I had just established in the prior two minutes and the council heretofore established to govern is surely on their way for me.

I’m getting totally delirious right now.

I jab my thumb onto my phone’s home button. “Siri,” I say to my phone. “Call Delia.” When the call screen switches, I put it on speaker phone.

“Hey babe-“ Delia answers but I cut her off.

“HELLLLLLLLLLLP!” I shout into the phone.

“Jeebus, girl, what’s up? Are you okay?” Delia says, obviously concerned.

“I'm not fucking okay. I mean, I’m in one piece. One very gooey, sweaty piece,” I say quickly. I can’t have her thinking I'm dying or something, but she needs to understand the severity of the situation.

“Breathe then, Em, breathe,” Delia says.