Chronicle Of Alvaché

Parked beside the walkway of a seemingly endless street, a fleet of Rolls Royce $405,000, with black tinted windows of Bentley Mulsanne on the other lane, $305,000 each, accompanied the rich and glamorous.

As if the heavens and hell were in favour of the two departed, they poured down their condolences at their remnants who were deep in thought watching the double $35,000 caskets laid beside tombstones. Slowly the overcast began giving way and showers of blessings poured and slid down their umbrella surfaces. Ahead of the numerous strangers in head-to-toe black vintage suits was the preacher. A man having the worth of $1million and a disposable private jet parked discretely amongst the tombstones.

'We're gathered here today to pray for our lovely departed. A farther, a mother, a son, a daughter. But most importantly, influencers and changers of uncountable lives. They were the king and queen of their empire. Leaving to us indelible memories of their achievements. We come not to morn but give glory to the Almighty for taking back his eminent children into his wonderful bosom. Now we pray and commit their ascension that the soul of Giovanni Mazzanti and Marianne Mazzanti rests in everlasting peace...'

After another round of his spurious speech, he glanced surreptitiously at a tubby man standing before the caskets, like the rest of the people gathered, redefining his looks into that of inquisition. The man in black not perplexed at the priest's visage heaved a sign of disappointment and unnoticeably shook his head.

The rain had gotten more intense than its original showers. The rich and glamorous weren't able to condone such harshness of any weather. Farther Piopus, had come to realize this, he'd waisted much time dwelling on purportless remarks, decided to cut his crap.

'...We pray they're happy and are resting wherever He has brought them to.' Staring at the tubby man again with hints of apology. 'We also ask the Lord protect their son wherever he may be...'

Farther Piopus condemned the damn rain for it's inpudence . Also not to forget the herd of this so-called apathetic friends besieging him and humbly beseeching his round-up. He was paid $20,000 just for this opening prayer and now it had come to an end.

The turby man resembled to be in his early 60s. Staring stoically at the preacher before him as the rain drizzled by.

'He doesn't attend the funeral of his own parents. Wonder whom I should be disappointed in.' a wobbly voice crawled into his ear. Unknowingly for him was an old lady. Held her umbrella up high and repositioned her askew gold and wood 119 diamond glasses costing $30,000 on the list.

'Mr. Ché is still recovering from the loss.' he murmured.

'I hope he recovers quickly from losses. Because more rides on the other lane.' Her looks of indifference re-coalesced to that of pity as she spoke.

'Mr. Ché is more than capable of managing inundating issues.' the tubby man responded without taking a glance at the old lady.

The lady takes a sharp intake of breath. She nods and utter, 'Some how I feel his out, committing the sweetest thing a man could ever taste.' The tubby man could not agree more to this. His silence indicated his approval of the woman's words.

He too, heaved a sigh. Be it because of what the lady said or other worries in his mind, none knew.

'… and I pray, God, be with us.'

Subscequently, they matched out beneath the wings of their umbrellas. Leaving only the tubby man, the old lady and the priest under the troublesome rain. 'My apologies Mr. Dubois. I had gone out of game.' the priest scuttled close to both of them, yelling.

The tubby man, Mr. Dubois, didn't place the slightest bit of attention on the priest. He lowered his head and looked deeply below him. He didn't care about the priest who was feeling dissatisfied for not meeting up with their agreement. He, the priest, thinking this might be the last they would request for canonisation and a somewhat deficit to his revenue. 'I am … sorry for your loss.' he whispered under his nose and patted the tubby then left both of them to be.

The remaining two stood underneath their umbrellas, staring at neverending rain assailing the luminous surfaces caskets.

* * *

I had the craziest dream ever.

So many protuberant images flashing through my internal vision. One minute I was taking my ineluctable lectures from my mother when her alarm went off. She immediately ended our discussion and postponed my day of retribution. I wasn't exactly sure of what made her leave impulsively in such a manner. She kept her cool. Always. Not once has she ever retorted to the condemnation of others. But this, made me wonder. So after a while I got phoned. It was the cops, they wanted to make sure they were speaking with the owner of the number. After a brief question and answer, I went down to the station as I was told to understand the reason for the call. Then I found out. My parents were dead.

My farther got called the exact moment my mom left in a hurry. They both entered the same *car and got dreadfully bashed from the car accident. Why they met considering their distance in location was still a mystery to me.

After they take my statement and to me, other superfluous reports I left the station inebriated. My heart racing loudly. My vision playing tricks on me. It was hell on earth. I couldn't really say I got the best side of my parents but yet still I felt … disorientated.

Few days later I found myself roaming about the city. Ignoring all the calls from my butler, I needed to understand my position amongst the sons of the soil. Did some illogical things. Like getting laid with a woman I'd met minutes in club deluptuos bbw. That was the last I could remember. She leading the way upstairs while clutching unto my hands. The room was dark and spacious. We barged inside like a pair of ferocious animals.

Bumping into furniture and undressing each other like pure savages. Her shirt fell off of her shoulders, exposing her round, plump bosom and petite little body. I pulled her closer, needing my mouth on hers, on her skin, on her breast, on her neck; trailing down her back, tasting every inch.

She twirled her fingers into my hair, pulling smoothly as she mourned, 'I want you so bad.'

I spun her around and bent her on the family sized bed, holding her down roughly. 'I don't want you. I just need a break. This is actually my first time.' I wrapped my hand around the front of her neck and drew her closer.

I drew up her extremely short burgundy skirts over her round and almost translucent ass and plunged into her.

It really was my first time, but how come it felt like I'd been in the game for as long as possible.

I could already sense the shocked and pleasured face she impulsively put on as it went in through her. I wasn't going to stop at this, I withdrew and dipped it inside continuously. So much I began accelerating, my tighs and her ass collided during the impact and creating muffled sounds of continuous slaps. We groaned together.

This was unsatisfying. I slid my hands under her, it slithered smoothly till it got to the end. Where it was obstructed by two towering and protruding organs. They were much bigger than I anticipated. I continued to move in closer, to the extent I completely buried my fingers deep within it. Squeezing and crumpling it up like a paper while blowing her mind from behind.

Neither did this help. Her vulva was way to expanded for me to completely derive pleasure. I removed from the vulva and forcefully decided to explore her back territory. This was my decision. She wasn't in the same page with me. As she felt my head at the entrance to her anus, 'Wait … I don't do my–!' I thrusted before she completed her sentence.

This was the feeling I was searching for. Her anus was tight and extremely hot. I could barely get the rest moving in to it. 'Argh!' she screamed with both pain and pleasure. I used her breasts as a pillar for my intrusion. And finally I got every inch of it inside. It was satisfying, blissful. When I tried putting it through again I got the same difficulties. Extremely tight. Like she'd never let anyone through the back door. I continued thrusting, knowing fully well it wasn't all that went in. I accelerated more than I did in the vulva – this was my gig.

Slowy I began feeling my tubes circulating my release. I couldn't waste it outside her body. I managed to plant every inch inside her anus and let it rain in there. Because of the noise coming from downstairs, no one could completely hear her as she screamed and groaned.

Now it was moist and slippery. Her anus was even dripping of white come.

I couldn't say I enjoyed it like real life, but it was satisfying to an extent.

How I managed to remember this scene is a miracle. My family, the Mazzanti family names rests on my shoulders now. The family's burden, business, plans, innovation now listens to me. And after their demise all I think off and only remember is … this? Well I can't blame myself so much for my unconscious actions, they are from me and not from anyone else. Sometimes I remember somethings lost in my long term memory; like I had amnesia or something.

If I could wish for anything again, it would be to have a normal life. Being raised by normal parents in a normal way. Having to clean up your mess by yourself and face them head-on, not having a whole legion of cavalry to get it done for you. It reminds me of when I was little. I was timid, fearful … apprehensive. My mother spent more of her time lecturing me future matters concerning myself. Then I couldn't decipher it, but now I understood. The Mazzanti family was built on a foundation of numerous alterations. Now my parents are dead, I am the last man with the name. There were lots of things that were coming.

I need to be resolute, I need to be callous, I need to be obdurate. Human feelings would only pull me down. I need to show the world that the once incapacitated son of Giovanni Mazzanti and Marianne Mazzanti had now become a tyrant.

This is my story. This is my CHRONICLE.