Slide (Black Addiction #1)

by T Gephart

  “Why would you eat something you don’t like?” I had no intention of letting it go.

  Her eyes shot me a look of sadness that made my insides hurt.

  “Because I’ve never had it before. I wanted to try something new.”

  And there it was. The reason why instead of chowing down on pie from Mario’s we were looking at a bunch of containers neither of us wanted to eat. All of it orchestrated to prove—either to herself or to me—she could try something new. Except it didn’t prove shit and we were both still hungry.

  “Trying new things doesn’t mean making yourself do something you hate. Pushing yourself out of your comfort zone is a good thing, I’m glad you want to try new stuff, but its cool if you don’t like it.”

  “I suck at this.” She huffed in frustration. “All of this.” She motioned at the graveyard of dinner on the coffee table. “Sucks.”

  “Hey, come here.”

  And just like magic, I pulled her out of her chair and into my lap. It was a neat trick too, because one minute she was cursing under her breath and the next the smile had crept back on her face. Which was a good thing because my next move was putting my arms around her and giving her a hug. Her body tight against mine as her head rested against my shoulder, both of us even managed a laugh.

  Dangerous territory.

  Did I stop?

  Hell no.

  Friends hug. Yep, they sure do. I’d hugged plenty. And we were friends so the fact I had my hands around her was totally fine. My hand moving down her back—not so much. She could have stopped it any time. A simple hey, what are you doing would have put the brakes on with no questions asked. Lucky for me, those words weren’t spoken so I kept my palms right where they wanted to be—on her. My dick on the other hand wasn’t happy with just touching, the son-of-a-bitch taking a very keen interest in what was going down.

  Ali on my lap just felt right, which is why I pulled her right back into it as soon as the pizza I ordered arrived. She didn’t protest either, her ass not moving as we ate dinner. One of my hands staying on her the whole time while the other was used to balance a slice of pie.

  Probably the best pizza I’d ever eaten, and it had nothing to do with what had been in the box. The company far outshone the five-cheese special, with more than half of it remaining uneaten on the coffee table.

  The after-dinner cuddling in front of the television was also something special. Her head nestled against my neck while my hand stayed busy locked against her hip. Her gentle breathing against my skin made me feel so relaxed I could have stayed in that chair for a week and not complained.

  And while I wasn’t disappointed with the way the evening turned, my dick wasn’t so understanding. The need to kiss her so strong, I had to stop myself no less than five times.

  The goodnight was bittersweet. My arms no longer having a reason to be around her, gave her one last hug. Her head fit so perfectly against my chest that I had to wonder if holding a woman had ever felt this good, but when I let go, she went to her room and I went to mine. The part where I was able to touch her came to a very quick finale.

  That part wasn’t so great.

  It was going to be another restless night—just me and my hand.

  Good times.

  This shit was not getting easier.

  No matter what I thought was going on between the two of us, I was mistaken. By the two of us I meant Rusty and I. The lack of the Us—the saddest part.

  Being around him didn’t make things easier. He was so kind to me, just so sweet and the more he gave me, the more I craved. Sadly, the sexual attraction didn’t diminish either. A couple of nights ago I was convinced something was going to happen. He pulled me into his arms and we were so close I could almost taste the kiss. Turned out, it was just a false alarm.

  In fact he hadn’t tried to kiss me at all in the week I’d been living with him. Or sneak into my bedroom like I’d been telepathically commanding him to do. I’d left the door slightly ajar and everything. I was hopeful.

  But no. Nothing. Not even a peep. No interest it seemed as I embarked on my journey into discovery. Apparently I had a lot to learn. Sadly, not all of it fun.

  Somewhere in my fucked-up beginnings I’d decided I needed to be someone else. Live someone else’s life, and I didn’t really know who I was anymore. I’d been so preoccupied with not turning into my mother that I forget to work out who I wanted to be. It was criminal how much wasted energy I’d expended and all it achieved was to screw me up more than I already was. It was acceptable to say screw in that context apparently.

  Screw, screw, screw.

  Unfortunately not the screw I wanted.

  Ugh. I mentally wanted to shake myself.

  So I’d learned a lot about myself in the last few days. One, I was a little uptight. Okay, maybe more than just a little. Fine! A lot. I was a lot uptight. And secondly, I was horny as hell.

  All the devastation, my life is ending crap, didn’t kill my libido which was comforting. Thus proving that your sexual organs are not attached in any way to your brain. The part of my body I should have been thinking with. Yep. Uptight was definitely going to be easier to fix.

  It was in the spirit of my new awakening that Rusty set me a new task. Me—the consummate control freak—needed to push myself out of my comfort zone and to try something new. Burmese food didn’t count apparently and that was a disaster I would happily forget.

  No, I wanted my out-of-the-zone experience to be completely reckless, something so crazy my hair would curl. So for now it was back to the drawing board.

  Rather than worry about what I needed to be a silly and fruitless exercise, and convinced that my opportunity to hang from the chandeliers would eventually reveal itself, I concentrated my efforts on finding a job.

  Well. That’s what I was trying to do.

  The problem was, the internet was a minefield. A sea of distraction and procrastination. I’d go on to check job vacancies and I’d end up pinning Crockpot recipes for three hours. No one who lived at this address owned a Crockpot. Which should have been my wake-up call and yet, that five-ingredient barbeque chicken looked delicious.

  You know what else was on the internet?

  Porn.

  Not that I didn’t already know that, but I’d never had much time to look. Too busy being uptight and working. And boy, had I been missing out. Seriously.

  I don’t know how I even ended up there, I just clicked here and then clicked there and before you know it, I was looking at naked people.

  Porn. It’s not just for creepy dudes with comb-overs that’s for sure. And not just your run-of-the-mill type stuff either. I’m talking hard, pummeling, holy-shit-he’s-going-to-rip-her-in-half type porn. I had to be thorough. Of course I did. My research abilities had always been my strongest asset. Strangely—or maybe not—I was aroused.

  But more than aroused I was actually curious, the mechanics of it all just seemed freaking fascinating. How the body could bend and contort in so many ways to accommodate things that large was truly amazing. I was impressed.

  It got me thinking about my homework assignment. The pushing my boundaries thing. Me, being uptight. Which lead to other thoughts about what I’d like to do. Out of the comfort zone. Which made me wonder.

  Could I be less anal, by actually having anal?

  It was bound to get messy.

  My ass had always been strictly an exit only. I didn’t mind some non-penetrative play, quite the opposite—I welcomed it. But when it came to going down that road, I didn’t. Ever. Not even a possibility.

  Maybe I’d been missing out? Those girls online seemed to build a solid case if their euphoric ohhh’s and ahhh’s were anything to go by. I’d never orgasmed that hard when a man was in my vagina, let alone . . . out of it.

  It was settled. I had to do it.

  Without going all-out crazy and asking some random guy to put his penis in my out-hole—I still had some sanity left—I decided that I could achieve all of
this solo. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was going to attempt to screw myself in the ass.

  As hilarious as it sounded, it wasn’t nearly as easy as I thought. You just can’t ram a sixteen-inch dildo up your pooper. Well, not unless you wanted to do some serious damage and possibly be rocking a colostomy bag for a while. The problem with matching it with your shoes an obvious concern. But as I came to find out, there is an actual process that is required, whereby you train your butt. Like minoring in Spanish, I was signing up to butt-sex 101.

  A website I discovered was not only extremely informative, but very conveniently had all the tools required. Like a Home Depot of deviancy, advice with an impressive product line. It was more than just a little overwhelming.

  There were ones that boasted about their hospital grade materials, others claimed to be more resilient than the Space Shuttle and finally some that had more parts than an Ikea storage center—some assembly was required. Who knew screwing yourself in the ass was such an in depth process. Certainly not me.

  On a whim—and with as much knowledge as I was able to gather—I purchased a few things on my overused and probably soon-to-be-canceled credit card. I was both excited and terrified.

  Please God; don’t let me end up in an emergency room.

  The wait for the package was excruciating.

  The longer I waited the more I worried I’d lose my nerve. And I was determined to follow through with it. For whatever reason, this was very important.

  It was my saving grace that Rusty wasn’t home when my coveted box arrived. I smiled at the delivery guy as he handed me a non-descript harmless looking package, the contents of which would soon be getting very intimate with my exit anatomy. Poor guy smiled back. He had no idea.

  The front door had just slammed shut when I took off in a power walk to my bedroom. Running was still out given I hadn’t had my date with the treadmill yet and my room was the designated place for the magic to happen. It had been a tough decision between it and the bathroom. I still wasn’t sure I’d made the right choice. Too late now.

  My nondescript, harmless box was ripped open with a wild abandon that would give six-year-olds on Christmas morning a run for their money. The journey of ass-funary had waited long enough.

  And there it all was. Lined up neatly on my bed. Ready for me to try. Lube, butt plugs and anal beads. Like a delightful kinky buffet.

  I had no idea what to try first.

  So with my cheat sheet handy—I’d downloaded some notes from the website—I started with the lube.

  It was cold and slippery.

  And not in a good way.

  Flashbacks of gynecological visits and pap smears raced through my mind as I got the area well prepared. God, I hoped this was worth it.

  Next I needed to choose my instrument of pleasure. This was harder than I thought. Everything I’d bought looked larger than it had on the website and slightly less comfortable. Still with me being naked from the waist down and with my ass full of lube, it was probably too late to be having second thoughts. I was just going to need to push through—literally.

  Eeny, meeny, miny, moe ended up making the decision for me.

  Anal beads.

  At least they looked pretty, their purple bulbs of wonder just waiting to give me pleasure. I was going in, or at least they were.

  My eyes bulged as I slowly pushed in the first bead, its entry met with resistance. It didn’t feel good and I immediately wanted to pull it out but I wasn’t a quitter. Nope, I was staying the course. So I tried to push in another two. Yep, now it just felt worse. Something was definitely wrong.

  The instructions didn’t seem complicated—they were anal beads not Pythagoras’ theorem—but reading over them again highlighted that I skipped a step. An apparently important one, and one that I thought would be pretty impossible now.

  Getting aroused.

  Awesome.

  So while the beads were left abandoned in my ass, I turned my attention to my clitoris as I tried to summon anything that would get me even the slightest bit turned on.

  Utterly ridiculous.

  I should have bought a vibrator as well.

  Masturbation wasn’t something foreign to me. In fact the only orgasms I’d had over the last two years with Rob were courtesy of my own hands, so reaching down and touching myself wasn’t weird for me at all. What was weird was being bent at the waist with stuff hanging out of my ass while I slowly circled my clit in a strange bedroom. I wasn’t even completely undressed, which further illustrated how crazy this was.

  Clearly I hadn’t thought this through, my excitement diminishing with each passing second. Candles might have been good, music too but despite all the enthusiastic rubbing and stroking I was doing, my libido had hit the snooze button. Not even conjuring images of what Rusty might have looked like naked worked.

  Nothing.

  My vagina was broken.

  Frustrated, and losing sensation in my lube-covered fingers, I’d decided the effort was a bust. Of course in my battle of will trying to get to my happy place, I had momentarily forgotten about the tail of beads still happily lodged in my butt. Something I was reminded of when I sat heavily on the bedroom floor.

  “Crap,” I screamed, the words flying out of my mouth automatically.

  I’m not sure why I anticipated the end of this pathetic mess to be any better than it was, but me on the floor in a puddle of lube and anal beads was really far worse than I imagined. That was until I heard the knock at my door.

  “Hey, Alison, are you all right in there?”

  Great, because the situation wasn’t mortifying enough, I now needed to share it with a friend, namely the guy I’d been trying to imagine naked not even ten minutes ago. Any time the universe wants to throw me a bone would be a good time. Honestly, hadn’t I suffered enough?

  “I—I’m okay. Just fell off the bed.” I shuffled back up to my feet. It wasn’t even close to the truth but it was as much as Rusty was getting. This was an afternoon I was happily taking to my grave.

  “Do you need help?” The door pushed opened a crack.

  HOLY SHIT! So in addition to the vibrator I’d forgotten to purchase I’d also completely neglected to barricade the door as well. The absence of a lock should have been the deciding factor in doing this in the bathroom. A little late now.

  “Noooooooooooo.” The scream leapt out of my mouth as I slammed the door back shut before it had a chance to open any more.

  “What the fuck?” Rusty called through the wood, obviously not expecting a face full of door as his greeting.

  “You. Cannot. Come. In. Here.” My pulse raced as my breathing increased. My eyes frantically tried to locate my panties and jeans as my legs stayed rooted in their spot. Too far—my wayward clothes taunted me from the edge of my bed.

  “Why not?” He wasn’t giving up, possibly looking for an explanation as to why his roommate had lost her damn mind. Valid at this point.

  “Because you can’t.” I prayed for my mouth to say something plausible as my brain struggled to kick into gear. “My room’s a mess, you can’t see it like this.” That will do.

  “I don’t care about a mess, just open the door.”

  “Please. I am begging you. Do not open this door.”

  If I were certain he wouldn’t fling the door open the minute I moved, I honestly would have dropped to my knees at this point. Pray to whoever was up there to save me from the embarrassment I was literally ass deep in. Sadly, I think God had more pressing issues than me and my butt.

  “What are you doing in there?” His voice sounded less mad and more curious. The change did not help my cause.

  “Nothing. Who says I’m doing anything?” Nice. Solid. Convincing. It didn’t even sound like I was lying unless he could hear my heartbeat hammering away in my chest.

  “Because you’re acting weird.”

  The man had a point. As far as acting like a lunatic was concerned, I was currently its poster child. Not that I had displayed
many moments of sanity since our first meeting—oh no, I was happily tumbling down the rabbit hole headfirst. Pants apparently optional.

  “I’m naked. I just had a shower.” Thank you, brain. Nice of you to show up, could have used you about an hour ago before I started this mess.

  “So hurry up and throw some clothes on. It’s no big deal.”

  That would be perfectly logical. Of course it would. I was in my room after all, so clothes shouldn’t have been an issue. The issue was, however, the collection of sex toys on my bed—not even counting the one still in me. Yeah, I really, really need to take that out.

  “I’m fine, Rusty. You don’t need to come in.” My hand reached around the back and yanked on the rubber ring. “Oh, shiiiit.” My body tingled as the offending beads slid out of my butt. Wow. Those girls weren’t lying; it felt pretty damn good actually.

  “What now? Did you fall again? Alison, just put some clothes on and open the damn door.”

  “Okay. Just give me a minute. Do not open the door.”

  Unable to bask in the strangely nice sensation for long, I grabbed the beads, lube and butt plugs and shoved them in the top drawer of my nightstand. Hopefully where they would stay undiscovered. Next on the agenda were panties and jeans, which I pulled on after a quick clean up with some tissues. The lack of hand sanitizer was still bugging me as I pulled open my door.

  “Heeeyyyy.” I stood with my hip against the doorjamb, hoping like hell he would see me in one piece and move on.

  “Hey.” Rusty eyed me curiously as he looked me over, my enthusiastic hey not enough to appease him. “Can I come in?” His eyes moved from me to the rest of my room.

  “Sure, sure. Come on in.” It was his place after all, not like he didn’t have every right to inspect it.

  “Messy huh?” He scanned my neat and tidy room. “I’d hate for you to see mine.”