Текст книги "Rug Burns"
Автор книги: Cory Cyr
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 11 страниц)
I could only imagine the conversation taking place currently at Latch’s birthday party. Him being thirty—definitely not the topic. I left Haven standing in the library as I made my way out to meet my taxi. I’d called for one when Keenan and I landed. I knew how this would end, so I preplanned an escape and made sure a cab would be waiting. Yes. I’d given this thought. I have no idea why I even bothered to come here. Maybe I wanted to see Haven one last time. I knew she would be beyond irate with me. We’d never really fought in almost twenty-five years of friendship. If we had disagreements, they were normally loud and brief. But what I just did wouldn’t be easily forgiven.
I think I’m slightly selfish too. I wanted to feel the warmth of Keenan holding my hand one last time. He has this way of brushing his thumb across mine as he caresses my hand. I enjoyed seeing other women fumble and become stupid around him. But his eyes never stray. Regardless of other women who are decades younger and more beautiful, his gaze is reserved for me only. How he must despise me right now.
Of course, this is better than leaving him at the altar. We both need to move on with our lives. If I hadn’t left him, he would have spent not only time, but effort trying to talk me into it. Why couldn’t he just be content with what we had? Why do men need more? I know he thought he could change me, and in many ways he had. I’d been faithful. Committed and monogamous. Three words I never thought I would use to describe myself.
One fucking piece of paper. That was the destroyer of nations. Okay, maybe not nations, but many relationships. Did I instigate this? Did I somehow appear to desire marriage? I know Keenan looked at Latch and Haven and yearned for what they had. The life I could never be a part of because it isn’t me. I could have given him an ultimatum, but I never wanted to be the one who made him choose. Me or what really mattered to him most—a lifetime of wedded bliss. The bastard was greedy; he wanted both.
I’m going to have hours to dwell on what I just did. Maybe I can close my eyes and sleep the entire flight. But I know what dreams will come. I need to believe I made the right choice. It’s over now anyway. I know without seeing Keenan I’ve crushed him.
I reach into my purse as I sit down, adjusting my seat for the long flight. I meant to grab some tissue, but what I grasp in my hand is the ring. I pull it out and gawk into the reflection of the largest diamond I’ve ever seen. I know without a doubt he had it created and designed specifically for me. Keenan always told me how uniquely different I was. He said there were a million reasons he fell in love with me—one of which was because I had a special quality of making others laugh. He found it both charming and endearing. I wonder if he’s laughing now.
I tuck the ring back into my purse and place it next to me. Stretching out in the seat, I cover my eyes with a sleeping mask. Slumber won’t come easy. Guilt courses through my mind, and I struggle with the darkness. I try for what seems like hours, when I realize we haven’t even taken off yet. I lift the mask and turn on my side. First class is unusually empty on this particular flight, and I’m happy because I know it will be easier for me to rest. But I guess that’s not going to happen. I toss and turn, unable to stifle my thoughts. Maybe I’ll watch a movie or read a magazine. For ten fucking hours.
When I get home, I’ll rearrange my schedule and take a few days—maybe a week off. Possibly a trip to Hawaii or the Virgin Islands? Anywhere we haven’t traveled. I need to regroup and focus. I’m too used to having him around. It will seem odd, as if I’ve misplaced something.
Jesus! I’m thinking about him as if he’s a pair of shoes—and if he were, he’d be Louis Vuittons. Extremely gorgeous ones. I should have left the ring with Haven. Better yet, I should have never accepted it and told him how I felt before we went to Scotland. God, I’m such a heartless bitch. I deserve karma.
Past
It’s not as if I practiced at birth—on my pacifier. I wasn’t sexual until high school. I think I was what they called a late bloomer. Watch out for those girls because we make up for lost time. A lot! The beginning of high school is a memory I wish I could bleach from my mind. I was smart and shy. A super bad combo. I had unruly red hair, a face full of freckles, and an underdeveloped body that resembled one of the boys. I prayed nightly that I would mature as my mom promised. She too had red hair and freckles. But she had boobs—big ones. I wanted those too. I had nothing to offer the boys in school. I was plain and I had no figure. On top of it, I had no skills. Social ones.
Hell, my parents didn’t give me the “sex talk” until I was fifteen. To be honest, they didn’t make it sound very tempting. All that discussion about bodily fluids, STDs, and babies. It appeared to me if you had a penis, you were the devil. Evidently, when I turned sixteen, I wanted to go to hell.
I’d been invited to Brandi Myer’s birthday party. It was my first real get-together (with boys), and it was a sleepover. Even though it was a sweet sixteen party, Brandi was anything but. The party was in the basement, and there were Jell-O shots, beer, and pot. I’d never drunk before, and those shots were tasty.
The boys arrived after her parents went to bed. Ten minutes later, I was introduced to the games Have You Ever and Seven Minutes in Heaven. I just watched because I’d never kissed anyone but my parents. And I could tell from all the heavy breathing and touching this was more than kissing—this was definitely not relative kissing. My tummy felt funny as I watched. I had strange sensations coursing through my body. It was disturbing, but in a good way. Not one of the boys was interested in me anyway, so I drank a couple more Dixie cups of Jell-O, then began yawing. Evidently, liquor made you sleepy.
Mr. Myers came down and kicked the boys out while he admonished Brandi. She just laughed it off while following her dad upstairs. She returned with a fruit bowl. After many shots, among other things, I was kind of hungry and interested to find out what she had in mind toting a bowl of fruit. The other girls already knew because they began giggling. I watched with curiosity as Brandi began to peel the banana.
Once it was unpeeled, she began to caress it. Lick it. Suck it. I was fascinated. The way she maneuvered that banana in and out of her mouth and throat, well, it was thoroughly mesmerizing. She stopped long enough to give me instructions. She was teaching me about oral sex. I wasn’t a complete moron. I knew the basics, but this was something else.
According to her, all boys loved BJs. I’d heard girls talking about it in gym class. To be frank, putting a boy’s penis in my mouth didn’t sound all that exciting. Maybe for him, I supposed, but I didn’t relish the idea. It sounded nasty to me—taste-wise. I mean, seriously, they had their thing crammed in their pants all day and they peed out of it. How sanitary was it to put something that dirty in your mouth?
Brandi had three of us practice on bananas; the other girls got stuck with apples and oranges. Who knew I would be a natural? It appeared I had no gag reflex and, according to her, I had an abnormal ability to “deep throat” fruit. I didn’t know it back then, but that was a huge accomplishment. The other girls seemed jealous of what I could do. I was finally able to impress my peers. I had no idea what I was actually doing and how it was going to change everything for me. If I had seen my future, I would have been surprised to see how the act of fellatio would not only alter my life, but all I would touch.
After that weekend, it was as if I were the new girl on campus. It didn’t matter that I had out-of-control hair or no boobs. The boys were checking me out. Or rather, they seemed hypnotized by my mouth. The word had spread that I could suck dick like nobody’s business. It was both exhilarating and scary. Going down on a banana was easy; doing it to an actual penis, I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. I mean, what would happen if I wasn’t good or I did it wrong or, worse yet, I bit down? I was basking in the glory of being worshipped, but all it would take was one bad review and I’d be a nobody again. Still, I liked having this fame even if it wasn’t warranted.
I spent the rest of the week practicing on bananas. My mom was getting suspicious since I’d never eaten so many. Practice makes perfect—that was my mantra. The truth was after thirty minutes deep throating, I got hungry and ate my practice partner. I guessed I shouldn’t do that to an actual boy.
By Friday, I was asked out. Oh my God, frickin’ Mike Brown invited me to go to the movies, and not just any, but a drive-in. They were almost extinct except for one about an hour away. Mike was a big jock in high school. A major player both on and off the field. And he was so damn cute. Brandi had me come over to her house after school to fix me up and give me a pep talk. She wanted me to look my best. My hair was blow-dried and straightened with a brush. Plus, she layered my face with tons of makeup.
I felt somewhat funny. I’d never even kissed a boy. I knew Mike wasn’t taking me out because I was pretty or popular. He heard the rumors. I gave blowjobs. This would be my first time, and it would make or break my reputation. Did I really want a “slut girl” rep? You bet. It was better than being nobody; at least I would be somebody. But what if he expected more than a BJ? I didn’t want to have sex. It didn’t sound enjoyable—regardless of how Brandi dressed it up.
Damn, I did look different. Not drop-dead gorgeous like other girls, but I looked cute. Mike would be getting more than one surprise tonight. Maybe.
Somewhere between the popcorn and the peanuts, his zipper magically came down. I was ready to jump out of my skin. Literally. Wow. My. First. Penis. I peeked at it out of the corner of my eye. It looked stiff and kind of pissed off. Squiggly blue veins traveled along the sides and the top looked like a mushroom. I loathed mushrooms. Mike managed to push his jeans down to his knees. Now I was visually captivated. It was bigger than I thought and nestled in dark curly hair. There appeared to be two round balls sitting squarely at the base. It may sound odd, but it reminded me of an Easter basket. He expected me to put that in my mouth? We’d hardly even spoken.
“Can you kiss me?” I asked shyly. To be honest, a banana seemed more appetizing right now than Mike Brown’s penis. And if I were going to do this, I wanted something out of it.
He looked at me, perplexed. I swear, it was as if I’d grown two heads. Jesus, I’d only asked for a kiss.
“Sure. I guess. If you want me to,” he answered somewhat reluctantly.
I suppose I was the girl who kissed your penis, but not your lips. I sighed.
Mike reached over and pressed his mouth to mine. His lips felt soft, like my down pillows, and his breath smelled like popcorn. I felt his tongue wiggle its way through my teeth and touch mine. Holy crap. My body felt hyperaware and warm. My lower half fizzled with a weird sensation. I could see why kissing led to actual sex. It was amazing.
Mike stopped and then pulled away. His lips looked red, and mine felt puffy. He obviously had a lot of practice because that kiss was life altering. He scooted over closer to me and brushed his hand across my cheek. I could feel it then move upward and onto my neck. He didn’t use force, but gently bent my head toward his open pants. This was it. It was show time. Make it or break it. This would define me in high school.
I snuck a peek as my mouth got closer. I smelled body wash. There was no doubt he’d expected this. He had prepared. I’m sure no teenage boy washes his junk that well.
I gently grasped it. I could feel Mike’s body go as stiff as his penis. He shuddered. Jesus. I’d only touched it. I guessed my hands were good. As I stroked, I could feel it throb, like a tiny heartbeat.
“Touch my balls.”
I followed his instructions and cupped them in my hand. I internally chuckled. They did remind me of those candied eggs. As I continued to fondle them, I noticed a small drop of liquid at the slit on the mushroom head. Wow. It occurred to me I did that. Maybe moisture was part of this. My underwear felt damp and something stirred deep inside me.
That bead—the one sitting so lazily on the top of his penis—spellbound me. I sensed an urge I couldn’t identify or stop. My tongue darted out and licked it. Mike’s entire behavior changed. He acted possessed. His breathing intensified and his voice was gritty as he growled. I swear. Just like an animal.
His body became tight and his penis began to quiver in my hand. It literally came alive. It felt firmer and the veins more defined. I suddenly sensed power. Everything I was doing was causing him to succumb to me. I would almost be willing to bet Mike would do anything if I took him in my mouth right now. And I did. I groaned as I slid him between my lips. The sound I made vibrated against him, and he pushed in farther. I hoped he hadn’t expected me to swallow his penis. It hit the back of my throat. My fingers flirted with his balls as I closed my eyes and repeated what I’d done to my banana.
Mike didn’t taste bad. I was really doing this. I almost wanted to do the happy dance—if his penis hadn’t been in my mouth.
Shit. No one mentioned when you gave a BJ, the finale included stuff shooting out. Gross. It tasted salty and thick in my throat. Kind of like mucus when you’re sick. Mike was pumping into my mouth nonstop. How much crap was there? I felt like I’d swallowed a gallon. Was it okay to ingest this shit? Apparently.
Brandi hadn’t bothered to tell me about this. I could understand why. I might have had second thoughts if I knew a thick, phlegm-like substance was going to be in my mouth. I tried to pretend it was something else. The only thing I could compare it with was my mom’s lemon meringue pie. I loved lemons—evidently bananas too. But that stuff on the top—meringue—reminded me of nasal discharge. I always put that down the garbage disposal. I hated the texture in my mouth.
Mike finally stopped and pulled away. He was breathing heavy and his cheeks were flushed. I grabbed my soda and took a long drink. I really wanted to spit. Badly. But girls didn’t spit; it wasn’t ladylike. I have a newsflash: neither is sucking a boy’s penis, but it had been kind of cool.
“Wow, you’ve done that before, haven’t you? That really felt good. Can we do it again?” Mike asked, excitement filling his voice.
Again. Really? As much as I enjoyed it, I was kind of over him. “Nah, can you take me home?” I asked, scooting over toward the passenger door and furiously sipping my soda.
“Louisa, I kind of thought we could hang out a while longer. What you did—that was fucking amazing. You seemed to like it. Can’t we do it again please?” He was actually whining.
Putting a boy’s dick in your mouth equals fame and power. Good to know.
Oh my God. Wait a minute.
Mike was a big man on campus. There were slogans in the girl’s bathroom about how good he was. I wondered if my remarkable talent was now going to be etched on the wall in the boy’s bathroom. Best way to advertise. I’d also read about how big Mike’s dick was. They weren’t wrong about his size, but I also didn’t have anything to compare it to—yet.
I found out in the next twenty minutes he’d never done anything. He was as inexperienced as I was, although I kept that little ditty to myself. The only other person to fondle him besides me was himself. In retrospect, that was a good thing. His expectations were low, so sucking him earned me an A-plus. It appeared that grade was going to give me a popular reputation. It might be bad with the girls, but the boys would adore me.
My mom had always told me, “Your words have power.” She had no idea. It wasn’t the words. It was my mouth. I was tired of being the smart, nerdy nobody. The girl who had nothing to offer but red hair, dull skin, and no boobs. I’d rather be known as a slut. A whore. At least I’d be known for something I had talent for.
“Can you take me home now?” I nonchalantly asked Mike, as if I had better things to do. I smoothed down my shirt and pulled out a pink glossy lipstick Brandi had given me. I slid it over my lips as he watched with anticipation. For a minute, I thought I saw drool.
“Really? Come on, Louisa, just one more time. Please.” He was begging.
I felt fierce. Strong. Desired. Special. And most of all, he wanted me. He was actually pleading. I felt a surge go through my body as I recognized what an opportunity this was. This single night was going to transform my future. It was going to change me forever.
“No. Just take me home. Maybe some other time. And, Mike, if you ever want your dick in my mouth again, just know I’m not going by Louisa anymore. It’s Weezie now.”
The last two years of high school were amazing. I had friends. I even had a few boyfriends. But mostly, I had experiences. I held on to my virginity as if it were the key to the pearly gates. If I had to be honest, I wasn’t saving it for the one. Mostly, I was petrified. After my first experience giving head—yup, now that I had about twenty under my belt, I had quite a vocabulary for putting a dick in my mouth—I wasn’t going to trust Brandi anymore to tell me the truth about sexuality. She tended to sugarcoat things, and I wanted to know what to expect so I didn’t look like a dufus.
I actually had a clique of girls I hung with. One episode of putting a dick into your mouth and you became the “it” girl. Casey was my go-to person when I wanted the actual truth about all things sex. She was the resident slut. I’d read about it while I was peeing in the girl’s restroom. Evidently, she’d opened her legs to so many boys she had to track them via a computer spreadsheet. She showed it to me once. My only thought: impressive.
She gave me the skinny on virginity and the lack thereof. It gave me chills just hearing her talk about it. The way she described it sounded painful and not all that pleasurable. I guess all that bullshit about bells ringing and fireworks was a crock of shit. I supposed that’s why people waited until marriage or some token hot guy. If you were going to be bleeding and writhing in pain, it should be because of his royal hotness.
I had absolutely no desire to have sex. But I enjoyed getting guys off. It not only made them feel good, but it gave me a rush too. I wasn’t thrilled with the ejaculating in my mouth, and Brandi had told me I never had to swallow. She claimed it had too many calories. Never mind it tasted like ass most of the time. But now I found out it could make me fat too? She gave me options. Either have them pull out or spit.
For some reason, though, it really didn’t seem fulfilling if I didn’t follow through to completion. If I psyched myself up, I always managed to swallow. Sometimes the taste wasn’t that bad, and sometimes it was downright nasty. Breath mints became my number one investment. Depending on the dick, I ate one before or after. And if one wasn’t handy, I tried to pretend it was something else.
Brandi had gotten me a fake-bronzed spittoon for my birthday. Ha-ha. The way I was going, it might be needed in the future.
So even under peer pressure, I was content with my sexuality the way it was. I didn’t deem it necessary to rid myself of my V-card just yet. No, I wasn’t waiting for that token hot guy; I was stalling. At some point, I would get to it, but I didn’t have it on my bucket list. Or my to-do list, the one I made for college. I figured I was going to be the only virgin, and possibly, I could use that to my advantage. I knew eventually I would have to give up the goods. College wasn’t high school. Those boys would be men. And I knew I was only postponing the inevitable.
I met Haven Wells when I was a freshman in college. It was by sheer luck that we even ran into each other. I’d only been on campus for a few weeks; I hadn’t even gotten a dorm mate yet. The college was co-ed, so I hoped for an opportunity to bunk with a hottie. There was also the distinct possibility I’d have some creepster. Actually, having the room to myself was great. I could bring back boys and not worry about some Bible-thumping, chastising roommate who would counsel me on my wicked ways and threaten me with burning in hell. I’d already met the purity group on campus. I didn’t tell a lie. I told them flat out my hymen was intact. Of course, I left out the part that I’d been blowing the opposite sex for two years.
One Friday night, I’d been invited to a frat party. Booze and boys. Woo-hoo! I dressed accordingly. I had no idea if it was all of the dick I’d been sucking or the come I’d been ingesting, but I’d filled out. I had curves and boobs. My mom had been right. Bless her heart. Let’s just say my C-cups runneth over. My skin was now soft and smooth, and I’d been going to a salon for the last year. My hair had waves, not clown curls. I’ll go out on a limb and say I looked sexy. I might not have been a ten in the looks department, but when word got out I had special skills, I became a twelve.
At this particular party, evidently no one wanted a blowjob. They wanted to get laid. Sure, they would take the BJ as foreplay, but what they really wanted was virgin pussy. Seriously! That must have gotten out too. Did this college and the fucking frat house have some master list of virgins?
I leaned up against the far wall, “scouting” the troops. I saw many possibilities, and if I continued doing shots, those prospects would grow. By the end of the night, I wouldn’t be too picky. No, I didn’t feel like a slut, but I thought like one. I wasn’t going to apologize to anyone just because I enjoyed sucking cock.
“Hey, Weasel, you wanna play quarters with us?”
I looked up at some random guy wearing sweatpants and a college logo shirt. “It’s Weezie, you asshat,” I replied with a smirk.
“Whatever. We’d love you… to join us.”
How cute. They thought they had to get me wasted first. I chuckled to myself. I looked over at the table with a slanted smile. Oh, this wasn’t going to be bad at all. There were at least eight of them, and three were gorgeous. Even though my eyes stayed fixated on their cocks when I was doing them, occasionally it was nice to have that erection attached to a visual feast. And there were many I expected would taste delicious covered in chocolate and smothered with whipped cream.
I moved away from the wall. That’s when I noticed her. Now, I normally never checked out chicks. I was strictly a penis woman. But there was something about her. A sadness. A shyness. She looked younger than most of the students here and lonely. This girl reminded me of myself just two years prior. She was pretty enough, but her clothes appeared to come from Plain Jane Monthly. Black baggy sweatpants, a heavy white sweater, and black flats. I cringed. Jesus. This girl definitely had assets—somewhere. Her clothing was obviously sizes too big, and she wore no makeup and—holy mother of pearl—she had no jewelry on.
Her eyes slanted as she caught me staring.
“Hi. Want to join us for an intellectual round of quarters?” I asked, winking.
She gave me the onceover and appeared unsure of my real motives. “Umm… I’ve never played. Sorry,” she murmured as she kept her head down.
I walked over to her. “Hey, no worries, sweetie. Quarters isn’t a game of aptitude; it’s more like line of sight. Think of it as horseshoes for alcoholics. By the way, I’m Weezie, and I like penis.”
She looked shocked. I mean her cheeks went bright red and she seemed to allow the wall she was leaning against to swallow her. “I thought I’d get that out in the open. I’m extremely candid. I’m a no-holds-barred kind of gal. Come play with me. I need an ally against these perverts,” I said as I noticed her body language begin to relax. “Come on. What’s your name?” I asked, grabbing her hand.
“Haven. Haven Wells.”
We ended up playing sixteen rounds of quarters.
I didn’t really like beer. It was an acquired taste. And I hadn’t acquired it yet. Haven agreed, even if she never said a word. The squishy look on her face every time she had to drink told me everything. By the end of the night, I was relatively buzzed, and she had a slight wobble to her walk.
The guy I’d chosen for the evening was nice enough to go with us when I walked Haven back to her dorm. She lived on the other side of the campus, and I heard her mumble something about her roommate being Satan’s whore. Once we got her settled into her room, I went with Jeff—the flavor of the evening. He spent a good portion of the night begging to get into my pants. Once I had his dick in my mouth, he settled down.
It’s amazing what sucking cock can achieve. It’s like a Xanax for the male sex drive. Oh, their dick stays hard—how could it not in my mouth—but the rest of their body relaxes. Well, until they come. Then it’s like Mt. Vesuvius—an eruption on a historic scale.
