Thread by @kgotsochabangu

I celebrated my husband's death.

I still do, always.

He broke his promise.

Said he will always take care of my heart.

2 years later woman knocked in our house. She came in with an ugly baby. She said it was his. He agreed. 😢

He asked for forgiveness. I forgave him.

The ugly baby's mother died. The ugly woman. I was happy. Very happy.☺

But then shortly afterwards, he asked me if the ugly baby could come live with us. I said yes, bcz thats what good wifes do.

Time went, I forgot. & my elder sister came to my house crying. Told me she was carrying my husband's child. Pregnancy was 5 months.

But I forgave them both, bcz that's what good wives do.

The baby was born, & it was ugly too.

Time went, & my sister died too. My husband asked me if my sister's ugly baby could come live with us. 😐

Like a good wife, I said yes, the 2nd ugly baby could come live with us.

Time went & I forgot. A woman knocked. It was his colleague. In her back was clinging an ugly baby. 😢

This baby was his too.

A couple months went by. His colleague died. The one who brought the ugly baby.

& I was happy again. Way too happy that the colleague died. ☺

My husband asked me if the 3rd ugly baby could come live with us. I said yes, like a good wife he married me to be.

But I knew enough was enough. So I took a step any wife would have. I removed the door bell. So that we would not hear any others knock

20 years passed, & no other woman knocked. Maybe they turned back when they saw no door bell. My plan worked. I'm a genius. Maybe.

My husband fell ill. & he died on a Sunday evening. He was to be buried on the next Saturday.

& like a good wife I sat on the mattress mourning him. But Friday afternoon I went to Sun City. I was always waiting for that day.

Got to the city of the Sun & booked in a hotel for three nights. I was not gonna attend a fucken funeral. Not me. Never.

Sun City is so fun, that was the best weekend of my life. I was drunk throughout that weekend.☺☺☺🙌🙌😍😍😍

Saturday morning I woke up with a sore pussy, no, let me say it like a good wife, I woke up, & there was some pains in my vagina.

I dont remember who I fucked. I was too 🤒 drunk.🤒

But between you & me, I keep having flash backs of these four security guards fucking me. Dont judge, I was celebrating, like a good wife.☺

Monday morning I went back home. Pussy still sore. I found ppl in my house helping with clearing funeral stuff.😢

Sore pussy reminded me to send my oldest son to buy me morning after pills. He is the first ugly baby that came. He came with them.

The uncles were mad that I had missed the funeral. The aunts were in my defense, they said I ran away bcs of shock.

Two weeks went by, & everyone left. It was only me & my three sons left. Those ugly babies. They were young men now.

Handsome young men.

They always been cute babies, I only called them ugly to make it hard for me to love them. I did not want them to be innocent.

You could say the G in ugly stood for guilty. But they were innocent in all these. I loved them like my own.

I treated them like my kids, cos I could not have kids of my own.

But the all changed when one night they came home drunk, & my oldest son found me naked in the shower.

It was a mistake, but the way he looked at me, he was his father reborn.

Before we both knew it, we were all over each othet. Doing it. & oh he was his father alright...

The other two came & found us doing it. I invited them to join us. They did. It was a four some. My husband X3.

One was in the pussy, another was doing the anal, & the third was kissing me & telling me sweet nothings.

When tears fell down my face, my oldest son licked them. It was damn sexy. Exactly like his father.

They were tears of joy, the joy I got from killing their mothers, the joy I get from being fucked by their sons. The joy.😢❤❤😍

To this day, this is how I celebrate my husband's death, with his ugly babies inside. 🍆🍑🌧💧💧

I celebrate his death by remembering how the man at the mortuary came to me telling me that my husband was killed by poison.

& one night in my bedroom, the mortuary man was saying my husband died by natural causes.
I celebrate ❤❤ husband's death.

End of episode 1.

To be be continued...

I celebrate my husband's death.

I still do, always.

Episode 2, Season 1, [THREARIS]

The following morning I woke up heavy with regret. I did not know how I was going to look at the ugly babies.

But what had happened, happened. It was alļ in the past, and life had to carry on anyways.

So I went to take a shower, & cleaned the house except for their rooms, bcs they always cleaned their rooms themselves.

All the while their three bedrooms were closed & not a sound emitted from a either room.

I ate breakfast alone. I then cooked the meal of the day & went to my bedroom when I was done.

It is only then that I heard footsteps in the passage, and sounds of activity in the kitchen.😞

It souded like the ugly babies had come out to eat now that I had retreated to my bedroom.

For that whole day we never saw each other.

The following day the same thing happened. But in the evening I took a step like any loving mother would do for her children. 😐

I wrote three letters for each one of them, apologising for putting them in this situation. This is what good mothers do.☺

I ended the letters by telling them that they could come to talk to me if they are ready.

As I finished, I looked at my husband's pic hanging in our bedroom wall, & he looked like he was laughing at me; like I deserved this😐.

I slipped the letters under their doors separately. Though I used to hate them, I always respected their space & privacy.

An hour past, and there was a knock on my door.

And I was not suprised that it was Paul who came in. He had always been closer to me than the others.

He was my sister's child after all; the second ugly baby.☺

He closed the door behind him & advanced to me. I could not read the expression on his face, so I did not know what to feel at the time.🤐

What Paul did next, I did not expect from him. He slapped me very hard. & it made a loud sound.😦

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He slapped very hard on my butt, & grabbed it like he did not want me to run. I liked it. I still could not believe this was Paul.😯

I tried to ask him if he was okay, but he just looked at me with those sexy eyes & kissed me...

He then slowly undressed me like he did not want to tear my wedding dress. But ofcourse they were just my pajamas.

I dont know if I should say we made love, that we had sex, or that we indulged in an unhealthy sin. But whatever it was, I enjoyed it.😁

After that we just laid there naked & gasping for air.

None between us said a single word.

But I had a lot of questions in my mind.

But a good mother knows not to ask her children too many questions, lest she bother them. A good mother always knows.

I fell into a deep sleep, with the second ugly baby cuddled in my arms. How fast they grow up these kids...How fast they grow...☺

The folloiwing morning I woke up & Paul had left my bedside. And as in the past days, I never saw these kids the whole day.

I did my chores as usual, & only heared footsteps in the passage, & sounds of activity in the kitchen as they dished for themselves.

I did my chores as usual, & only heared footsteps in the passage, & sounds of activity in the kitchen as they dished for themselves.

And again, that night there was a knock on my bedroom door. It was not Paul. It was Mathews; the third ugly baby.

Mathews was only 21, but oh my, what a lion in bed.

The following night it was Charlie; the first ugly baby.

And he too rode me hard until my wetness reminded me of my flowing tears the day his mother brought him for the first time in my house.💧

This routine lasted for two whole weeks, until my senses came back to me, & I realised that I was being a very bad mother to these boys.😐

And like a good mother, I wrote three letters, one for each one of them.

In the letters, I told them that what had happened will never happen again. Ever!😐

I then went & slipped the letters under each of their doors.

And indeed, neither of them knocked on my door that night.
My husband must have been happy where he was...

End of episode 2.🙏

I celebrate my husband's death.

I still do, always.

Episode 3, Season 1.

Just as before the second incident, I never saw the boys that whole week.

As usual, I would do my chores, and later when I had retreated to my room, I would hear footsteps in the passage, & sounds of activity in the kitchen as they were eating.

I had thought that the boys never left the house since the first time we...🤐you know.

But I later found out that they had been using the the other door, the one that leads to the garage & out.

I can't say I'm complaining, bcs among other things, not seeing them helped me put things into perspective.

Not seeing them helped me remember a lot of things actually.☺

I remembered how I had acquired such good morals. Lol, it is because of my parents.

Trust me, when your father is a pastor, you cannot help but a christian with a good heart like myself.☺

Anyways, I lived in Pretoria with my family before I was married & came to live in Johannesburg.

See, back then we did not have fones, so communication was rather peculiar.

That is why you have to understand why my husband had to do what he did in other to get me.

It was in the afternoon around seven, bcz it was 1990, whën my sister & I heard the hard-loud knock, we thought it was the apertheid police.

The police used to assault ţhe youth in suspion of "terrorism."

So neither of us said a word, until my father in the beďroom shouted for us to get the door cos we were in the lounge.

Though my sister was older, I had always been the bravest, so I was the one to open.😐

When I opened the door, my heart stopped.

I saw a big gun. 😦😦😢

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This gun scared me because it was damn horrifying.

It was made with wood, decorated with dirty used plastics, & cut box attached to it with rusted wire to make a big machine gun.

The little boy holding this ugly toy gun was ugly too.

He just stood at the door & smiled. I looked at him disgusted.

He then told me there was a guy who called for me, & ran off before I could scold him for his knocking.😠

When I got outside the yard, in the corner, I saw this handsome light skinned man who smiled at me. 😍

He then greeted me, & introduced himself as Israel. ☺

Everything about Israel was perfect, I stood there, mouth open, drooling over this fine man.😮😮😯😯😍

He then smiled & said, "You are Cynthia, right?"

Dissapointment dawn upon me; that was my sister's name.

Without waiting for me to answer, he told me how he had seen me severel times before that day.

He said he had always been hurt when he called out for me, but I kept walking.

He said he had always been hurt when he called out for me, but I kept walking.

Pļus, my sister was only 19 & I was 17, so we looked the same age.

Lol, Israel looked 23 but still, I saw us fit-perfect for each other.

Before I knew it, I was telling this guy that my sister had left for her boyfriends' place.

I told him that I was not Cynthia, that I was Kgotso, that I did not have a bf.😐

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