by Amy Brent
The song was louder again. I recognized it. It was something I heard all the time.
I woke up disoriented and rock hard to the tune of my alarm clock. Lingering images of Allie riding me flickered behind my eyelids as I lay in bed. I wasn’t ready to leave them behind.
So I reached over to the table beside my bed, fumbled to open the drawer, and withdrew a tube of lotion I kept on hand for such occasions. I pumped some into my palm, then threw the blanket aside with my other hand. I ran the lotion over my cock, the slick sensation of it nearly too intense at the tip.
As I fisted my cock, I closed my eyes and pictured Allie lying with me again. I thought of her milky thighs, spread wide for me as she lay on her back upon that glowing white silk. She was rubbing herself, gentle and steady, pausing only to hold her swollen clit between two fingers. After a second or two, she would release and cascade back into the circular rhythm she liked so much.
My hips twisted as my arousal heightened. I edged my fingers over the tip of my cock, making a slippery mess out of lotion and pre-cum. A low groan escaped me, and I focused more intently on my vision of Allie.
She was still on her back. Her eyes were heavy, and her lips were parted as she moaned softly. She reached out with one hand, beckoning me closer. I obliged, leaning over her, my cock settling between her thighs and pressing up against her wet pussy. She was swollen and ready.
As I eased into her in my mind, my hips bucked. Hot lines of semen dashed up my stomach and chest. I lay back, letting my tense muscles settle into the comfort of the mattress. Then I grabbed tissues from the box on the nightstand and cleaned myself up.
After, in the bathroom, my lustful thoughts of Allie were replaced by more unsettling ones of her and Andrew. Of him filling her up. Of him shooting his load in her. Of both of them, lying together in his bed wrapped up around one another like snakes.
Feeling instantly angry again, I showered. The steam and hot water did nothing to ease my mind.
I couldn’t help but feel a tightness in my gut. It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time—not since Kyla, at least. Betrayal. It hurt more than I remembered. Something felt different this time. It was more than likely because this time it was Allie who had stabbed me in the back. The one person I believed in more than anyone had ripped my heart in half.
I hated how dramatic I was being. I resented the hot anger and the emotions that had been brewing inside me since reading the entry in Allie’s diary about her and Andrew fucking. Dammit. I wanted nothing more than to bury it all and move on. I wanted to forget.
As I dried off, my anger hardened. Andrew had been twenty-two. What was he thinking, having sex with a sixteen-year-old? When I had confronted him the other day, he explained that it had been legal, but it had also been a mistake nonetheless. It was one they both wanted to take back, apparently. Andrew had tried to assure me that it was a one-time thing that they both regretted and never did again. His words meant nothing.
What was worse was he had fucked her when she was drunk. Sixteen and drunk. He should have known better. He should have controlled himself. Of course, Allie was beautiful. She always had been. But she had deserved more than that. Her first time was with someone she hadn’t loved, in a bedroom that smelled like Axe and old shin pads, on sheets that probably hadn’t been washed in four weeks.
I gritted my teeth as images of Allie on her back in that bed flashed in my mind. Teenage Allie. Sweet, innocent, soft Allie. The Allie I had first known. I could see Andrew above her, drunk and pathetic, trying to stuff himself in her. Andrew had told me the other day that’s not how it had happened. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe it had been better for her.
Or maybe, it hadn’t.
But that wasn’t the best of it all. For two full weeks, both had believed Allie was pregnant. But they had walked around acting like nothing had happened. I went to school with Allie. I saw her every day. We walked home together. She had never said a single word. Not one. My best friend lying to my face because she thought she was carrying my older brother’s baby.
It was the stuff of teenage TV shows.
I fixed my hair and brushed my teeth. Once I was done in the bathroom, I returned to the bedroom where I dressed in one of my best navy blue suits, brown belt, brown dress shoes, and a cream colored shirt. I had meetings all day with some of the investors I pitched to, and I had to keep a cool head until I was back home.
That was going to be a struggle, especially since every time I blinked, I saw Allie and Andrew together.
I didn’t always see them having sex. Sometimes I imagined them in waiting rooms at clinics. I saw them holding hands while they waited for the doctor to come back and tell them the pregnancy test results were negative. I saw them embracing each other in relief, and then both vowing to never say a word to anyone. Especially me.
These thoughts were worse than the ones of them having sex. I could believe them if they said the act hadn’t meant anything, but everything that followed was a testimony to the simple fact that they had been willing to commit to one another. That hurt more than the rest of it.
I plucked my watch from my dresser and tightened it on my wrist. I had to get a grip. There were more important things for me to focus on right now. My career, for example. These distressing thoughts of Allie and my brother could wait. I would have plenty of time to sift through it all over the next few days when it wasn’t so fresh.
Maybe I would talk to Chance about it. He had always been good at offering me a different perspective. And, if he failed at that, we could spend a night on the town where I could expend my energy finding the right girl to bury my cock in. That would be a good enough distraction from these wandering and painful thoughts of Allie.
Perhaps I should have given my number to that spicy brunette from Dante’s. She would be able to keep my mind off Allie. I was sure of that. She would probably let me do whatever I wanted to her.
My phone buzzed in my pocket against my thigh. I fished it out, and upon looking down at the screen, I grimaced. Allie was calling again. I had ignored her last few attempts to reach me, and I knew I still wasn’t in the right frame of mind to talk to her. I was angry, and it would be easy to say things better left unsaid.
I hit the red button to end the call and slid the phone back into my pocket. She could wait. She would have to.
I sighed and made my way out the front door and to my car. The drive to the office felt longer than usual. Every song had an association to Allie. So I ended up turning off the radio and opted to drive in silence.
The silence only made my own thoughts louder.
Chapter 14
Allie
I slammed my front door closed and collapsed against it. Mondays were usually bad at the office, but today had been an exceptionally shitty one.
James Lipton had hit on me several times and ignored my resting bitch face that I had been trying to perfect for months in an attempt to get him to leave me alone. I had spilled coffee on my keyboard and now had to pay out of my paycheck to replace it—which I wasn’t sure was legal or not. In the end, I concluded that I didn’t care. I’d rather fork out the money than deal with the back and forth with James about ordering me one in the next office supply shipment.
To make the day worse, someone had eaten my lunch that I packed the night before. It had been the only thing I was looking forward to. After lunch, I had received four customer complaints and spent the last three hours dealing with them. Which basically meant I spent my time getting yelled at for someone else’s screw-ups.
The icing on the cake was the fact that Steven still wasn’t talking to me. It had been days. I had never gone that long without talking to or seeing my best friend. Usually, we would chat over the phone every few days during my lunch break. If we were unable to connect, we would catch up over movies or dinner on the weekend.
What I wouldn’t do to spend an evening on the couch with Steven watching some crappy comedy flick while tossing popcorn into each ot
her’s mouths. By the end of the night, I would be covered in equal amounts of blanket and popcorn. I wasn’t very good at catching it.
More than anything, I wanted to help Steven feel better. His distance was indicative of how badly I had hurt him. I knew that. He wasn’t doing it to be mean. He was processing, digesting, and working his way through the truth he had just learned. I wanted to help him navigate that.
And I wanted him to tell me he loved me again.
Those words on his lips had been the best thing I had ever heard. It had been as if the clouds that had been following me around for years had suddenly parted, and everything was falling into place all at once.
Until I went ahead and destroyed it all.
I yearned for his embrace and forgiveness. I knew I would do just about anything to get it. And after forgiveness came the one thing I was ashamed to want: the sex.
I wanted him to fuck me again. I had been thinking about it all day at work. I couldn’t help it. Between moments of heavy despair thinking of what I had lost, I was plagued with thoughts of Steven’s naked body. I hated that I was consumed with need for him at a time like this. I knew there were more important things than sex, but try as I might, I couldn’t push the longing to the back of my mind.
It was ever present, begging me to take care of things.
I dropped my purse on the floor and let my keys fall into the bowl on the table in my entryway. Down the hall, in my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and let my gaze wander to the drawer beside my bed. There were things hidden in there that could make me feel better. It wouldn’t be permanent, but any kind of relief from this tense grief would be welcomed.
I undressed, draping my clothes over the back of the chair at my vanity with the intention of putting them away later. My attention was on the toys in the drawer, and the swelling of my pussy, and the slickness in my panties.
If I couldn’t have Steven right now, I would have something else.
In nothing but my bra and panties, I climbed up on the bed and opened the drawer to reveal my collection. Colorful items winked up at me, promising relief. I grabbed the one I always started with: a small powder blue vibrator with chrome sides. It fit nicely in my palm, and I clutched it tightly as I lay back against the plush pillows at the head of my bed.
Once I was comfortable, I put the vibrator beside me. The cool chrome edges pressed up against my hip. Slowly, I reached down with my right hand and pulled aside my panties. They were wet and warm against the groove between my pussy and thigh. The thin lace tickled my skin as I lowered my hand down, pressing two fingers between my swollen folds.
When my fingertips grazed my clit, I closed my eyes. I slid my fingers up and down, spreading my juices along the length of my pussy in preparation for the toys it was about to receive. As I warmed myself up, I envisioned Steven.
I pictured him standing at the end of my bed. He was naked. His skin was tanned like it usually was in the middle of summer, and his cock was hard. He was watching me. He liked watching me.
I softened my touch to feather strokes. The light sensation was glorious. My clit became firm making itself easier for my fingers to find. Each caress felt more intense. I slid two fingers on either side of my clit and squeezed gently. Then I rubbed them in opposite directions.
Wonderful.
Behind my eyelids, Steven was still at the end of the bed watching me. He took the length of his cock in one hand and began stroking himself. He moved with an aggression I had never seen before; one that felt primal and sexual. His shoulders were hunched forward as he watched me, and his hand moved faster up and down the length of his shaft. His hungry stare watched my fingers as I pinched and teased my clit.
I was ready. I let my hand wander over my thigh, leaving a little slick trail on my pale skin. I grabbed my vibrator and turned it on. The vibration in my fingertips made me excited. My mouth was wet. I wished Steven was there so I could suck him off. I wanted to feel his cock sliding in and out of my throat as I played with myself.
I placed the vibrator just above my clit. Sometimes the vibration was too intense right at first. So I eased myself into it, letting the tip hover just above my sweet spot until I couldn’t stand the anticipation anymore. My hips rose off the mattress on their own, and I met my body’s needs by lowering the tip of the toy. It buzzed against my clit.
My lips parted in a pleased sigh. I began rotating the vibrator in slow circles, sliding around my clit, teasing myself until I couldn’t bear it anymore. Then I would hold it to my most sensitive spot until my pussy tightened. Right when I knew I was close to losing it, I would retreat to the less sensitive areas. I had time. I had so much time.
I focused on my vision of Steven. He was still at the foot of the bed. His jaw was tight as he watched me use the toy. He was working himself over fiercely as his eyes followed the slow circular motion of the vibrator.
I wished he were real. Right here, an arm’s length away, preparing to fuck me so hard that I wouldn’t be able to walk after.
But he wasn’t. I was alone.
I held the tip of the vibrator to my clit and turned up the vibration setting. Quick pulses beat against my bud until my hips jolted, and I lost control of myself. I came quickly, releasing a shuddering breath and clutching the end of the vibrator desperately as I rode out my orgasm.
When I was done, I set the toy aside. I was always too sensitive for a vibrator after an orgasm. I lay there, my chest rising and falling as I recovered until the delightful tingling in my pussy settled to a more manageable throb; an ache for more.
I used my fingers again. I explored myself delicately, tracing over the hood above my clit and wandering down the slick sides between my lips. I was soft and silky smooth; ready for the taking. Oh, how I wished Steven was there to take me—to stick a finger inside me and curl it up against my G-spot; to tease me with quick come-hither motions deep inside me.
I moved my own finger down until it slipped easily inside. Pretending it was Steven’s, I slid my finger in and out, feeling the walls of my pussy gripping tightly. I used my other hand to rub my clit. The need to come was there again. I was hot and ready and eager for another orgasm.
My fingers wouldn’t do the trick. I needed something bigger. Something that would fill me up like Steven’s cock would.
I abandoned my pussy for a moment and dove back into my toy drawer. I withdrew a pink toy; a curved dildo with a vibrating tip and a little arm that rested against my clit. It vibrated, too, and it was a toy that got me off every time I used it.
I slid the tip of it up and down against my pussy, getting it all wet and slick and ready. I was thrumming with excitement as I prepared to fuck myself.
Holding the toy between my legs, the tip pressing into my opening, I held my breath. I relished the feeling of it sliding into me. If only it were Steven’s cock. I took my time letting it stretch me. I bit my bottom lip and forced it in as deep as I could.
When it couldn’t go any further, I turned on the vibration settings. The little arm that rested against my clit began to pulsate. I moaned with pleasure. Deep inside me, the toy fluttered. I pulled it out and pushed it back in. Each thrust was slow and steady. I waited, knowing the time would soon be right to get into it with more fervor.
I could still picture Steven at the end of the bed. I envisioned him climbing up on the mattress and pushing my legs apart. As I slid the toy deep into my pussy, I pretended it was Steven’s rock-hard cock.
I moaned again, softly, and my imagination played the sound of Steven groaning deeply above me.
I flicked my wrist faster. My pussy was swelling, tightening. My clit was taut beneath the vibrating arm. I pressed my head back into the pillows and lifted my hips off the mattress. I bent my legs, holding myself up so I could fuck myself harder.
Then I pushed myself over the edge. My mind reeled as my body succumbed to the pleasure. I couldn’t breathe. I let it thrum through me and continued thrusting the toy in and out until I was too weak and too
shattered to continue.
My hips fell back down, and the tension I held in my muscles evaporated, leaving me feeling like I was floating. The toy was still resting inside me. I turned it slightly to the side, so the vibrator wasn’t directly on my clit. It still pulsed inside me, but it was a pleasant sort of pulse. It was just enough to keep me hungry for more.
I rested again.
When I was ready, I eased the pink toy back inside my pussy. It felt hot and slippery. As I pushed it in deeper, I still found myself wishing it was Steven inside me.
I wanted to feel his hands on my ass. I ached for his skin to be pressed up against mine with such ferocity that it might seem as if we were trying to melt into one another. I hungered for his kiss and the taste of him on my lips.
The toy spread me open, but I still felt empty. Nothing could replace the way it felt when Steven was buried in my pussy.
Still, I pretended I was with him. Each thrust was his. Every time the vibrator grazed my clit, I imagined it was his finger, delicate and precise, flicking over my bud and sending little shivers of excitement through me. Soon I was clutching the toy harder, curving it upward, and grinding against it like it was Steven’s cock.
My last orgasm was powerful and hard. I cried out when I was done. The toy stayed inside me as I quivered and gripped the sheets. My toes curled. I gasped for breath and felt the wetness of sweat that had gathered on my chest and under my breasts. My hairline was damp. My fingers ached from holding the toy. My pussy was swollen, full and still dripping.