Jessie Saint and Natalie Knight - The Cure pt. 2 - MissaX

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Description: Blowjob Cowgirl Creampie Cum Eating Cunnilingus Doggystyle FFM Face Sitting Fantasy Handjob Humiliation Kissing Male Feminization Missionary Strip 2022 AVN Award Nominee for Best Featurette 2022 AVN Award Nominee for Best Screenplay â€“ Featurette 2022 AVN Award Nominee for Best Boy/Girl Sex Scene - Sc.3 Mona Wales & Codey Steele 2022 AVN Award Nominee for Best Three-Way Sex Scene - Jessie Saint, Natalie Knight & Codey Steele My name is.. my name is.. well, I can't be sure exactly what my name is or where I am. I am peering out of eyes that don't quite feel like mine. I am in the backseat of a car, it's night, and a familiar man is sitting in the front seat driving. We pull up to a home where a woman and her two daughters come out eagerly to greet us. The man opens the back door and pulls me out. My body is so heavy and lifeless that I nearly fall onto the concrete driveway. I try to move my feet, my legs so that I stand upright, but then notice that I am being hoisted into a wheelchair. I feel a combination of relief and confusion, the man is helping me, but who is he? He is my father? No. I don't think he is my father, but it certainly feels as if he is taking care of me. I try to move my lips. I want water. My throat is dry, sore, my tongue feels stuck to the roof of my mouth, it's heavy as cement. He wheels me into the home and the women speak to each other. I think the mother is asking the girls to go to bed, although I can not be certain. I look at the woman, she is in her late 30's, slim build, soft features on her face, she smiles at me. I want to ask her who she is, who am I, and where am I, but I am very tired. The man wheels me over to the edge of the room, it's dark in this corner, but moonlight streams through the window. I look at the moonlight. Yes, I do remember that is the last thing I saw before I became so confused. The moonlight. I remember it like a snapshot in time, and I close my eyes to search for more snapshots. The moonlight came through my bathroom window. I was in a bathroom, yes! I open my eyes, I want to celebrate this little gift that my mind gave to me. I look towards the bed, and I now see the woman is nude, the man is nude. They are kissing. They are making love. Making love is something I can remember. I had a girlfriend, or do I have a girlfriend? I feel strange as I glance at my hands, they're bound to the wheelchair. I recognize my hands, they are mine, and I quietly celebrate every little piece of recognition. I look at the couple, his cock is sliding in and out of her pussy. She moans, she stares at me, and I like the way she looks at me. It terrifies me and thrills me. A feeling of mistrust washes over me as I recognize that this is not normal. The bed they are making love in was the bed that I was to recover in. I think that is the bed that I was to recover in? I don't know. I don't know. Who the fuck am I? I try to close my eyes but I can't keep my eyes off of her and I hate myself, and yes, this is a familiar feeling that I recognize and celebrate. My legs wobbled under my weight. I was like a newborn, walking for the first time, one step forward, and I struggled to keep my balance. I lifted my left leg and carefully pulled it in front of my right. The next thing I know my legs carried me out to the patio where the family smiles and cheered. I looked towards the end of the yard, I heard the sound of a car driving by, there must be a street! I will run to the street and be free! I will find out where my home is. My mother. I can remember her eye color, her hair color, and it's not much but it's something. My legs are moving fast, as fast as I can manage, and then I am stunned. I hear a piercing noise in my ears. I lunge forward, the noise gets even louder. I feel as if my brain will explode. I fall to my knees. The family looks at me in pity. I think the two daughters begged me to stay, I could not hear their words, only saw their mouths speak. I slipped back into the familiar blackness. This is the same black that washed over me in my bathroom, right before I met the doctor. Blackness feels like being a helpless babe in a womb, it's warm, comforting, and I hear the muffled whirl of wind, inhaling and exhaling, a heartbeat, it's so quiet, it's barely audible. I am in the blackness, the nothingness, and somehow I believe that this is what I deserve. This is some justifiable punishment for some terrible crime that I committed. I do not remember the crime, but I remember the shame. I open my eyes and I see two angels. I look closer and I see that they are the daughters, 'Jesse' and 'Kiara.' They are caressing me, the touch of their hands feel comforting and strange. There is an innocence about these two young women that make me wonder if they are like me, stuck in this hell. 'What are you two doing?' I am looking at my fingers, I strain to move one. I will the tip of my finger to lift upward and I grunt. I hear my voice and my voice sounds familiar. I remember last night, not vividly, but as if they were small movie clips. I was taken out of a car. There is a family in this home: a husband, wife, and two daughters. The family is beautiful, strange, they scare me. I know this family is not my own. The man stands in front of me and I look up at him. 'Hello Josh,' he says. I know that name as my own. That IS who I am. My name is Josh, Josh, but what is my last name? My mother named me Josh, she used to call me Joshy when she was feeling affectionate. 'Kiara and Jesse told me that theyâ€™ve been working with you a lot these last few days and youâ€™re started to regain your ability to talk. Thatâ€™s great.' I search my brain to remember Kiara and Jesse, and I recall them. The two girls were putting lipstick on me and playing dress up. I asked them for help, and they giggled and mocked me. This was just last night, or was it last week? Time is escaping me. I'm angry. I look at my restraints on my wrist. 'Those are to protect you from yourself. Theyâ€™re only temporary.' I ask him, 'how am I here?' The words came out slow and methodical, but they were my words, and 'it was easier to speak than it had been. This means that I am getting better, I am improving. I will break free of this place, and go somewhere... I don't know where, I try to think of home and I begin to feel nauseated, exhausted by the small work of forming a sentence, moving my finger. The doctor is speaking and I try to concentrate on his words. He is a doctor. This is another found piece of a lost memory. This new information doesn't soothe me with trust. He is telling me that I tried to take my life, and I was in a coma. They thought I was gone. He believed that he could save me. I feel my face flush with heat. I am angry. I am frustrated. He is lying, or is he? His face looks kindly at me, he smiles at me. I do not trust him, his smile looks wicked like an animated Cheshire cat. I think he mocks me behind his kind eyes and wicked smile..' I do, however, remember the bathroom, it is my bathroom. That was my last memory. On top of the porcelain sink was an empty bottle of pills, and I remember lifting my heavy head to look at my face. I was pale, my eyes were red, there was something on my white t-shirt, my head throbbed, much like it throbs now. If he is telling the truth, I must be in hell, and he must be the devil. I must be in hell specifically designed for me. I'm tired of the thought of it all so I rest and when I open my eyes a woman is taking off my restraints. It's the doctor's wife. I heard him call her, 'Beverly,' when they were making love. I asked her, 'So what, this is supposed to be hell?' She caressed my arm, she smiled seductively, 'It could be heaven.' Beverly tells me that her husband, Tommy, saved me, and she said more things about death that were poetic and flowery, hard to follow, as I stared at her body. I felt my cock twitch and I looked down in surprise. Beverly still spoke about how wonderful death would be with no obligations, and I tuned out and focused on the lower half of my body. If my cock could twitch, my legs could move, if my legs could move, I could run free. She invited me to the garden. I watched her walk out the French doors onto a patio. I tried to stand. The family is around me. There is a party hat on my head. They are singing a birthday song to me. I do not know when my birthday is, but I know it's not today. I look out the window, it's Summer, my birthday is in the Winter. Is it in January? Is it in March? There's a gift in my lap. The girls are begging me to open it. I open the present and pull out a T-shirt. It says 'My Crazy Family,' there is a dried reddish brown spot on the sleeve. It's a stain, is it what I think it is? My eyes meet Beverly's, and I made myself to look away. She understands the effect her eyes have on a man. I suspect she's been perfecting her seductive stare for a long time. I hear her husband, the doctor, encourage me to put the shirt on. He has a camera around his neck. Is this some kind of birthday picture? Am I a part of this family, this 'crazy family?' There was cake, drinks, and the family talked amongst themselves about past birthdays and future plans. The girls bickered with each other, and the next minute laughed as if they didn't argue at all. Their mother smiled at all of us, with her eyes carefully studying me, she has the same pride and warmth as my own mother. Is this my new normal? Is this my new life? Is she my new mother? The time passed quickly, and the photo was carefully placed in a frame. I held the frame in my hands and looked at the picture. I surprised myself by no longer feeling fear or hatred, instead I felt a quiet apathy. I looked out the window, it was such a pretty day. Beverly's hand touched mine. 'Heâ€™ll take you out too one day. But for now youâ€™re stuck inside with me.' Itâ€™s strange. I used to hate my life. I hated my mom, my girlfriend... Beverly pressed her body against mine. 'I could be a better mother, and girlfriend to you than they ever could.'

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