by Amy Brent
I find it a struggle to even keep my eyes open, as we lie on the soft comfy bed. But I want to stay awake. I don’t want tonight to end. It reminds me of when we were staying in the tents late at night out in the field, holding one another closely. I know that moments like could become rarer and rarer, but I don’t want that to ever happen. I nuzzle up closer to them.
“So was that a good way to celebrate?” Christian asks.
“Yeah, I think so,” I murmur with a smile on my lips.
“A littler better than that graduation party?” Ryan asked.
“Hm, I don’t know. You know how much I loved that party,” I say sarcastically.
They both laugh.
“Aw come on, Jaz. Don’t say that.”
“What? You know I am joking,” I say. “This beats any party ever.”
“I definitely agree,” Christian says softly, gently, brushing my hair out of my face.
“I love you guys,” I say.
“We love you too,” the say it at the exact same time, and it warms my heart completely. How could anything in my life be bad when I have them to take it on with? I stay awake a little longer, listening to their soft, gently snores as they dream. The light from the moon comes through the window and shines down on us. As soon, as I close my eyes I fall asleep hard, surrounding by the feeling of being completely safe and warm. I need to let them know that when I leave for college, I don’t want this to end, because they feel pressure to let me see other people. I want to keep it going for as long as we want.
Chapter 17
I stand outside of my apartment complex. Christian and Ryan pull up in Ryan’s black BMW. Loud music playing. I have my bag on my shoulder and my art portfolio in my hands.
They park the car and step out.
It is a cool autumn day. The leaves are finally starting to change with a small hint of orange and yellow. Fall is my favorite season. I much prefer it cool than blazing heat
“Can you believe that Mark asked us if we were gay today?” Ryan laughs, running forward and scooping me up in a hug.
“Believe it or not, I can kind of see it,” I giggle. Christian pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them into his brown leather jacket.
“I know that’s what I said!”
I look at both of them and smile.
“So, today’s my first day,” I say.
“Should be epic!” Ryan says. “I am going to miss my favorite secretary though.”
“I know,” I frown, “but I will be back on Mondays and Fridays to help out. I don’t have class then!”
“Right,” Ryan nods.
Christian leans forward.
“He’s asked me like five times, if I would fill in for you.” I laugh at the idea.
“You’d make a lovely secretary Christian.”
They laugh.
“No, I don’t want to look at him all day. It's not the same,” Ryan says.
Christian squints his eyes and looks behind me, where I have to rolls of white paper tied with bows on them.
“What are those?” Christian asks, pointing at them.
“It’s something I made for you guys a while ago.” I reach down and pick one up off the sidewalk.
“It’s a print of a painting I made.” I unroll it slowly, to reveal the painting I made at the beginning of the summer of the three figured intertwined and in love. Christian takes it in his hands and gasps.
“Is this us?” he asks.
I nod.
“Yes, I made it a long time.”
“It is stunning, Jaz,” Ryan says softly holding the painting in his hand and looking at it.
“You know, I figured this is starting a new chapter in our lives and I wouldn’t to kind of mark it with something important. That sums it all up.”
“It truly is amazing,” Christian says.
“Thank you!” Ryan hugs me tight, squeezing the air out of my lungs. Christian waits for Ryan to let go, but as soon as he does, he holds me tight as well.
“Oh, my gosh! Okay, okay. Calm down,” I say readjusting my outfit. “I am literally only going to like twenty minutes away from you all.”
“We know, but still. It's exciting.” Christian pats my shoulder. “We just know that whatever happens you are going to kill it out here. And I cannot wait to see what happens.”
“Thank you!” I say. I almost feel tears creeping out of the corners of my eyes.
“Well, I should probably head off now. Don’t want to be late for the first day of class.” Ryan rests a hand on my shoulder.
“You are still living in this apartment?” he asks.
“Yeah! Of course I will be!”
“Okay, good. So we will know where to find you then?”
“Yes, Ryan,” I shake my head. “You can always just text me too.”
“No, no...don’t worry about us.”
“Oh, my gosh. You guys are so weird, and I love it.”
I start to head to my car.
“We still doing pizza once a month?” Christian shouts out.
“Yes! Of course!”
“Good!”
“Bye, Jaz!”
I wave my hand out.
“Bye, guys.”
I open my car door and sit in it. Suddenly, everything seems so quiet. I turn the engine on and pull out onto to the road. I can see them in my rear view mirror, talking to another, about Lord knows what.
I know that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have them. Most people my age have to struggle with relationship and date a bunch of men before they find someone they are willing to tolerate. I am lucky. I never had to deal with that. The two most important people in my life were always there watching me and taking care of me. Every time I would slip or fall, Ryan and Christian were there, and they still are. They are my first loves, and they won’t toss my heart to the side like so many others. I think about how Lizzie’s boyfriend broke up with her last week. I won’t ever have that happen to me. Because Ryan, Christian , and I are more than just some relationship, we are each other. We know one another and are completely open.
I turn down the road and can see the school up on a hill. I look back in my mirror. I can no longer see Ryan’s car. I feel slightly nervous, but I think about how great this year is going to be. I am the only thing stopping myself. Nothing else can stand in my way. All the pieces that were holding me back are now washed away, and replaced with the love that I have from Ryan and Christian.
They believe in me and always have. I wish I could have seen it sooner. So no matter what this year holds or what type of problems I face, I have the support and love I need. I can be proud to be an artist.
But more importantly I can proud to be Jasmina. A girl not everyone may understand all the time, but a girl who is able to love and be loved unconditionally. Who can share her heart with two men and they theirs.
I park the car in the parking lot. Several other student climb out of their car holding their art supplies. We smile at one another. I take a deep breath. I know that this is exactly where I belong.
I look out behind me and see a black BMW pass by near me. Christian unrolls the window.
“Hey! You rock! Have a good day!”
“Ditto!” Ryan shouts.
I burst out laughing and wave at them. Some of the students look at me in confusion, but I just shake my head. I love those guys.
*** THE END***
Don’t go yet!
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Rub Me the Right Way
CHAPTER ONE: Cassandra Casey
I couldn’t even tell you his name.
I mean, come on, it happened eighteen-years ago and to say that I was a little drunk would have been an understatement. Plus, I was barely twenty-one
when it happened, a horny college girl out for a good time, not a steady boyfriend.
It was something like Kevin or Evan or Derick or Dennis or something like that. Now, so many years later, it was all like a hazy dream or a clouded memory, one where you weren’t sure what was imaginary and what was real. You know how these things work. You only remembered little things and hoped they were real; the warmth of his lips, the firmness of his caress, the hardness of his body, the way his fingers explored your body, that first sensation of electric pleasure when the head of his c*ck touched your cl*t just before sliding inside. Sigh…
I could remember the way he looked at me across the little dive bar, smiling softly through the smoke and neon haze.
I remembered how he caught my eye through the madding crowd of drunken frat boys and dancing sorority girls, like spotting Waldo in a life-size mural filled with a hundred other Waldo-wannabes.
I remembered the way my heart fluttered a little when I saw him working his way through the crowd, keeping his eye on me as he worked his way closer, like a great lion slowly and deliberately stalking its prey.
I remembered his smile as he got close enough to touch me; the luscious lips curled up at the edges, a mouthful of perfect, white teeth, made even whiter by the black lights that lined the wall above the mirror behind the bar. He had one of those scraggly, beatnik kind of beard and surfer boy hair; blond, silky, long, hanging over his forehead to his eyebrows. He twitched his head to sweep the hair back from his eyes.
He slowly licked his top lip as he gazed into my eyes, hypnotizing me, preparing to devour me. I knew I was powerless to do anything but succumb to his every wish. His gaze held me as tightly as a chain around my neck. It would be useless to resist, not that resistance was even on my mind. We both knew the moment he got close enough to touch that I would be his and he would be mine, at least for a little while.
I remembered how I didn’t hesitate when he asked if he could buy me drink, even though I was already well on my way to get plastered.
I remembered how quickly I turned my back on my girlfriends and completely forgot that they were even there when he asked if I was alone.
I remembered how quickly I slipped my hand into his and let him lead me onto the crowded floor when he asked me to dance. I remembered how easily I slipped into his arms and how he held me so close that I could feel his hot breath in my ear.
We danced the slow ones and danced slowly through the fast ones, much to the irritation of the revelers dancing around us. We ignored them, he and I, as our bodies melted together in a slow, sultry rhythm like a single stalk of cane swaying gently in the wind.
I remembered that it was hot in the bar, hotter still on the dance floor. Sweat sluiced from my neck and ran down between my breast, across my stomach, pooling at the waistband of my jeans. There was moisture further below; hot, oily, salty, oozing from deep inside me like a hot spring threatening to break free and gush forth in great waves at any minute.
Sweat drenched the t-shirt he was wearing, forming to his muscular body like a second skin. I pressed my cheek to his chest and inhaled his salty aroma. I could feel the roundness of his chest against my skin, the bulge of the muscles in his back as they tapered into the narrow waist of his jeans.
My hands went found their way under his t-shirt. My fingers massaged the small of his back. The sweat on his back moistened the tips of my fingers, making them slide over the hard muscle. His skin was on fire. I felt myself getting wetter. I could smell the heady scent of my pussy now, or maybe I just imagined the smell because of the moisture I felt pooling between my legs, soaking my cotton panties, threatening to soak through my jeans, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to smell me, to pick up on my scent and give witness to things that were his fault and his responsibility to sooth.
He wasn’t wearing a belt. His jeans were baggy, hanging low on his narrow hips. I pulled him closer and slid my fingertips down the back of his jeans to the top of his ass. I pressed my nose to his chest and inhaled deeply, sucking in his smell until my lungs could take no more. His scent made my mouth water. I wanted to lick the sweat from his body and swallow it like nectar. My lips found their way to his earlobe. I gave it a little nibble with my teeth. He sighed heavily in my ear.
Then there was just him and me and the music.
Every other human on the planet had suddenly disappeared.
There was only me in his strong arms, my cheek pressed so tightly to his chest that I could feel the vibration of his heart beating. He rested his cheek on my head and ground his hard cock into my belly, me pushing out my hips to grind back against him. His cock felt long and thick against me. My juices flowed heavy as I imagined milking it with my hand, sucking it in my mouth, licking it with my tongue, clenching my pussy around it; feeling it hard and pulsating and gushing hot milky goo on my skin and in my mouth and deep inside my cunt.
I remembered the song that was playing just before he kissed me for the first time. Three Times a Lady. He sang along to it drunkenly as we moved in slow circles at the center of the floor, oblivious to the throng of dancers moving around us.
When the song ended, he kissed me. Softly at first, slowly, no tongues, only lips. Then I opened my mouth and felt his tongue slip between my lips and into my eager mouth.
My lips wrapped around his tongue and I sucked on it like a meaty little cock. His hands slid down my back and over my ass. His strong fingers cupped my ass cheeks and pulled me into him. I resisted the urge to throw my legs around his waist and beg him to f*ck me.
There was no need to beg. He was going to f*ck me and I was going to f*ck him. We both knew it now. Nothing would stop us. We had come too far to turn back now.
I moaned as he pressed against me. He was fully hard now, his cock long and thick in his jeans. I shifted my weight and ground my pussy against it. I could feel him hard against my clit. The first hint of an orgasm shuddered through me. I wanted to cum right there on the dancefloor. A minute more and my wish would come true.
Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear.
“If I don’t fuck you soon I’m going to die.”
His voice was soft and deep, like a whisper echoing through a canyon. His breath tickled my ear. I shivered a little and stared up at him for a moment. Another song came on. I couldn’t tell you which one.
Without hesitation, I said, “I have an apartment across the quad. Take me there now and fuck me. Hurry. Before you die.”
Now, don’t you dare judge me. I wasn’t a slut or anything. I was just having fun. You would have done the same in my shoes. Or my panties. I was an unattached, twenty-one-year-old prelaw student at UCLA, one of the biggest party schools on the west coast. I slept with boys all the time, but I did not consider myself to be loose or a slut or a nympho. I was a healthy young woman with a healthy libido doing what all the kids were doing then. If you have a problem with that, well… screw you...
It wasn’t like he was my first one night stand. I’d had more than my share of one night stands. It was kind of a competition among the girls in my sorority. It was literally called Fuck ‘Em and Forget ‘Em. It was a stupid game that could have gotten us killed or diseased or kicked out of school, but we didn’t care. You don’t think about that kind of stuff when you’re young and horny and partying your ass off every night. You think you’re invincible. You think you can do anything and survive. You think you’re gonna live forever. At least I did. Sometimes I still feel that way, especially when I’m kicking another lawyer’s ass in court, but not so much lately in my personal life.
Anyway…
The point of the game was to fuck some strange boy’s brains out and never see him again. Or at least fuck him again. The point was to have a one night stand with a boy you had never fucked before, not a one night stand with every member of the football team or several boys at once or members of the faculty, though some girls did all those things and lobbied to have them added to their scores.
That’s right, we actuall
y kept a leaderboard in the rec room of the sorority house with the names of the sisters participating and the running tally of boys or men they’d fucked. I was far from winning the race. In fact, even with my over-active libido, I was nowhere near the top of the leaderboard. That honor went to Debbie Givens, a third-year med student and our chapter president. If the leaderboard was to be believed, Debbie had fucked nearly three dozen lucky recipients since the semester started just over two months ago. I wondered when she even had time to attend class. Or study. Or sleep.
Oh, and it didn’t have to be a UCLA student to count. I’d fucked bartenders, waiters, a hot cop that stopped me for illegally changing lanes, a barista at Starbuck’s who gave me free lattes, and four actors (in L.A. you can’t swing a stick without hitting an “actor”), including one who swore he had a part in the next Tarantino movie. I called bullshit on that one, but only after we did the dirty deed in the back of his mom’s Prius. I mean, there was no need to ruin the mood by calling him a liar right off the bat now, was there.
But I digress…
Back to the surfer-dude dreamboat I met in the bar…
There was no doubt in my mind from the moment that our eyes met that I was going to fuck him. But this time it felt different somehow. It felt… well… special. Maybe it was the six tequila shooters I’d done before he came over or the fact that I was especially horny because I hadn’t been laid in over a week. Maybe it was the feeling that we’d known each other in a past life, you know that feeling, somehow familiar but mostly not. Strange but not too strange?