When You Wish...

It wasn't for another couple of weeks that I found my opportunity. Glancing up from the gas pump, I had almost forgotten my wish when I noticed the Powerball jackpot was currently at $300M. Now THAT'S the kind of money that would make me happy, I said to myself. With basically unlimited money, the ability to read women's thoughts, and this big fat dick that made everyone woman hold their breath, I would be completely unstoppable. I pulled out my wallet, stuffed a dollar into the machine, and let it pick my winning number. The following Tuesday, I was holding a little slip of paper worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

The next few weeks was a whirlwind of lawyers, money managers, and media. The media. There's a fun story.

I had all those cute little reporters in the palm of my hands. An interview, a number in my phone, and a piece of ass for a few days until I got sick of it.

Yessenia was the most beautiful woman I think I'd ever seen. The giant rock on her finger was no match for my new found charm and charisma, along with my gift to take her inner monologue and use it against her. Just like the others, she slipped her number into my phone and came to my apartment that night to get dicked down.

"What the fuck am I doing here?"

The thought nearly every single one of them had as I opened the door, my cock half hard pushing my boxers forward to greet them. As I learned from doing this so many times, I put her at ease immediately by coaxing her into my trap and softening her up with a couple of drinks. The mix of English and Spanish thoughts circling her mind provided a fun challenge, but once I touched her, it was over.

She had long flowing dark brown hair, an impossible hour glass figure, and legs so long she could wrap them around your waist five times. I stripped her out of her stuffy on-air dress, unveiling lacey black undergarments, and miles of silky soft almond colored skin. Her trepidation of our tryst echoed through my head as kissing made her think of her poor husband back at home. No worries, no kissing.

She marveled at my manhood as she dropped to her knees in front of me, licking up and down the shaft and struggling to take my length deep into her throat. Her deft, drooling mouth skills nearly made me cum in seconds as she slurped and tongued every inch of my offering, thinking through my ears about just how impressive I was. She, like many others, wanted me to take her, almost violently. Holding her hair and fucking her face well past her tonsils, I fulfilled her fantasies. Grabbing her up strongly into my arms, I whisked her out of the living room, shoving her down the hall and throwing her onto the bed after sucking and biting hard on her neck.

She laid in front of me, legs wide in the air and I dove into to her pussy like the first excited kid leaping off the high dive at the public pool on opening day. I mouthed her pussy, taking her every thought and doing exactly as she told me, soaking her through her silk panties as her fingers ran through my hair. I tore her panties off her body as she whimpered, standing before her with my straining cock in my hand, stroking it over her. Her mind begged me to fuck her while wanting me to tease her in every way possible. I laid on top of her, grinding myself against her hot, slipper hilt, pulling down her bra and sucking hard on her M&M sized nipples.

With two perky DD's in my hands, I moved between then, teasing her opening with my tip as she continued to beg me silently. I felt my smile grow wicked as I stepped back onto the floor, gripping her thighs and pulling her towards me. She was dying with excitement as I massaged my head into her tight canal. She quivered, held her breath, and thought of some guy from her past named Ramon as I pushed myself into her depths. She was almost as tight as my little pizza delivery virgin, but with the ability to take my full length.

I met her every desire, using her thoughts to bring her to orgasm over and over again as I thrust myself hard into her cervix. She wanted it hard, she wanted it fast, and I gave her everything and more. She flipped to her stomach, dropped her feet to the floor and reached back and spread her ass for me. I shoved myself back into her depths, gripping her ass as I watched my thickness turning her insides out. She trembled with another orgasm, telling herself she couldn't possible take anymore. Her fat, round Latina ass rippled with my impetus as my body slapped hard against her. All she wanted was my cum to fill her and I gave her every last drop.

Exploding into her depths as I screamed with a guttural moan and her mind switched gears from pure lust to abject panic. She climbed up the bed, her thoughts screamed through my head as my cum spilled onto the comforter. She left a trail of juices across the bed as she scurried off, crying and cursing herself in a mix of English and Spanish. She scolded herself with thoughts of her loving husband and her innocent toddler at home. I'd love to tell you that this is the first time something like his had happened, but it wasn't. Several of my flings instantly regretted our interaction the second the euphoria of sexual satisfaction wore off.

I tried to console her as she gathered up her clothes and worked to fight off the tears streaming down her face while she threw her herself together and flew out the door. Fuck.

I felt terrible. I felt like the worst person on the planet. I had all this power, all this opportunity, but the sinking pit in my stomach was infinitely filled with a massive hate for myself. What was I doing? Fucking people's wives. Taking random girls' virginity. I immediately fell into a depression, soothing myself with a bottle of Maker's Mark and some stupid horror movie on Hulu. Waking up the next morning, I didn't even bother going to work. I hadn't yet quit, but I knew the money was coming soon, so I let my depression take over. I drank and drank until I thought I was going to die. A full week of ignoring every phone call, barely eating, and drinking myself to death culminated in me waking up on the bathroom floor covered in my own vomit and self-loathing.

I checked my voicemail after my shower, deleting all the girls and my boss, some family, and finally my attorney. I caught enough of that one to know my money was in and I knew I needed a change. Despite my misery, I dragged myself into her office and set about pulling my life together. With seemingly unlimited money and no reason to even consider time as a factor, I did everything you dream of after cashing in your winning ticket. A house, cars, boats, stupid furniture, and a watch to match my flashy new wardrobe.

Three months of pissing away millions of dollars on nothing and I was still completely empty inside. I had it all. I had nothing.

I developed a solid cocaine habit during that time and outside of several weekly appointments with my new found dealer, Sugar Sean (fitting), I cut myself off completely from the outside world. I resisted the urge to play my little games with every female delivery driver, instead drowning myself in resentment, regret, brown liquor and white powder. I knew I needed something to change, but I had everything. At some point, I wished I could just be happy.

I think it was a Tuesday, but that was, at best, a wild ass guess. My afternoon routine of waking up, blowing a line, and drinking massive chugs directly from the bottle was interrupted by rapid fire doorbell chimes and echoing pounding at my front door. Stumbling into the foyer, I heard a man screaming incoherently. The second I turned the lock, the door burst open, knocking me back and the reverberations of some sort of explosion deafened me. A stocky bald man, as wide as he was tall, slapped a chrome object against my face as I flailed to protect myself.

Laying on the cold marble floors of my 7,600 square foot bachelor pad, I watched the puddle of blood pool and splash as my head smacked against the luxury tile. He was screaming in Spanish as he murdered me. As the world faded to black, I heard loud pops through my ringing ears as the burning heat of two bullets stung through my back. The last thing I remember is praying for a quick death, while wishing for my own pathetic survival.

Waking up to the sounds of beeps and humming from the machines keeping me alive, my eyes watered with the emotionless fluorescent flickering of the hospital lighting. I gagged and choked, panicking as I fought the tubes running down my throat and the nurses who sprinted into the room to hold me down. My abating consciousness left me as they filled my IV with a colorless liquid from a large syringe and I accepted my fate. I was dead.

The lifeless stale lights once again burned through my retinas as I opened my eyes several hours later. I held myself back this time, searching the room for help and finding my mother flipping pages in one of her trashy romance novels as I labored to raise a weakened arm through my restraints. She glanced up, pouncing to my side with tears in her eyes, promising me everything was going to be ok. I searched her mind, trying to hear the truth inside of her, instead, hearing nothing.

After all the crying and my family making appearances, my mom filled me in on everything she knew. Apparently, the man who attacked me was a gang affiliated thug who was married to a local news personality. The puzzle fit together immediately. Yessenia. She told him. She told him and he found me. He broke my eye socket, shot me twice, and he left me for dead. Multiple surgeries over the course of that first week and a medically induced coma for another two. I was lucky to be alive. But, was it luck?

The fog from my swollen brain and traumatized body was only penetrated with the thoughts of the things I had wished for. I remember wishing for happiness and when the memories of that day came back, I remember wishing to be alive. I sure as fuck wasn't happy, but I was alive. Had my gift really faded? The ability to read women's minds was proven gone over and over again during my recovery as I couldn't find a single thought within any of the female nurses or doctors or any of my family members. I found that I still had the big ol' dick, but was my ability to generate life-changing powers simply by wishing for them now gone?

When you hit rock bottom, it's hard to think of anything resembling happiness, but at least I was alive. I guess, I was happy to be alive so maybe I still had it.

My body still hurt, but after another month of intense physical therapy, mom and dad wheeled me out the doors and to their car. I struggle to say I was happy, but despite my lingering depression, I had new ideas on what I wanted out of life. Kim and I used to fight about the future and stuck between the walls of those sterile hospital walls, I started to realize everything I ever thought I wanted was bullshit. Big dick, all the women, the money. All bullshit. I used to dream about my career, traveling, living it up late into the night. As I zoned out to the whooshing sounds of the passing cars on the highway, I stared at the guardrail wishing for nothing more than a nice, boring life. Picket fences and all that.

I almost felt sick as my parents pulled into the driveway, yanking me from my stoicism and into the reality of my big stupid mansion and luxury meaninglessness.

"Hey buddy," my dad's soothing voice reminded me of all the times he'd quietly pull me out of the back seat and I pretended to be asleep so he'd carry me inside.

"Bud? Hey. I know you're probably tired, but there's a few folks here who want to welcome you home. Let's go in, you can say hi, and we'll kick everyone out so you can get some rest."

Coming out of my mesmerized stupor, I finally noticed the myriad of vehicles lining my excessively long driveway. It looked like a big ass party and I just wanted to hate me by myself.

"Yeah dad, I don't want to see anyone. It's embarrassing."

"I know, buddy. It's just family and everyone will understand if you want to rest, but we're all so happy you're going to be ok. Let them have this."

I begrudgingly reached for his shoulder and he helped pull me from the seat, guiding me up to my wobbly feet. He helped me shuffle to the door as I heard the muffled voices inside when my mom disappeared through the door. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to navigate the three stairs leading to the porch. I gathered myself for a moment, staring at the cracked front door and wishing I could be anywhere, but there. Catching a glimpse of my pathetic hobbled body in the reflection of the glass framing the entry, I felt more disgusting than I ever thought possible. This is what I have become. This is what I've done to myself.

Dad gripped my shoulder, giving me a squeeze and whispering, "you got this" as I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The light murmurs erupted into a torrent of cheers from dozens of my family members welcoming me back to life. A giant 'Welcome Home' banner hung across the massive window on the other side of the room and I gulped, forcing a smile, as I was immediately mobbed by tear-filled smiles and lovingly pats on the back while I forced myself into the room.

Then, there was only one.

The room went completely dark less a spotlight from the ceiling, highlighting the only thing in the room that mattered. My weakened body filled with energy, overpowering the lingering pain and damaged structure as I was drawn towards the light. I heard nothing. The voices were muted. I felt nothing. My haggard body was numb and the pats on my back were gone. The seas of love were sucked to the shore, clearing the way and guiding my path. There was only one.

A vision of beauty unlike everything I'd ever seen before stood before me as my mind willed my broken body into submission. Her raven black hair, her quivering smile, the tears rolling down her flawless face. Everything else was gone and then, in her arms, I was home. My body gave up as I sobbed into her shoulder as she struggled to support me. Kim was the one. She always was the one.

She held me forever. She held me until the sound returned to the room and everyone had already been long quiet. Turning back from her snot covered shoulder, I wiped my eyes and smiled at the emotional faces filling the room with love for me.

"I really appreciate this, guys. Thank you. It's really nice to see all of you here, but I don't know what to say. I'm just really, really tired."

"Say no more Jakey," mom piped up, smearing the runs of her mascara across her face. "Let's let him get some rest. We all got the tears we wanted, so let's leave him to get some rest."

A long line of hugs and well wishes slowly cleared the busy house as I sat in my $8,000 ostrich leather chair, filling myself with the love of dozens of people who truly cared for me. After grandma made her way out and mom and dad helped her to her car, Kim, who had been standing at my side the entire time, told me she was leaving.

"I'm going to take off. I'm really glad you're ok."

"Can you stay?"

"Yeah, of course."

Mom stepped back through the door and asked if I wanted them to stay. I looked up at Kim and mom smiled.

"I'll call you later to make sure you have everything you need. Don't hesitate to call me or dad if you need anything. We're only a half hour away."

"I think I have everything I need, right here."

Kim never left side from that day forward. She took better care of me than anyone could ever imagine. She accepted me completely. She patiently allowed me to confess all of my misery and despite just how ludicrous my adventure was, she believed every word of it. It was several more months until I was 100% and I, knowing I had fully recovered, proposed to her. We eloped days later. We honey-mooned around Europe. We immediately began starting the family she always wanted with me, but I was always too afraid to provide her.

It's now two years after my rock bottom and baby Jasper is stomping her bladder in the bed behind me while I finish pounding this on keyboard. Everything I ever wished for came true and I've never been happier.