‘You okay?’
I nodded and took another pull of vodka. ‘Yup,’ I croaked.
That’s when all my assumptions about my life-long friend went out the window. Sebastian handed the condom to Jean, and then the tube. I always assumed Jean was the bottom, and as hetero-stupid as I was, I didn’t think I was the only person who did.
‘Shira, come here,’ said Sebastian.
‘Uh, no. I don’t . . . I don’t think so.’
Jean knelt, unrolling the condom onto his cock. It was rather robust, which also came as a shock. What had I thought? That he was . . . I don’t know what I thought, honestly.
‘Don’t be such a homophobe, Shira. Come over here.’ There was a malicious twist at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth.
The insult hit me like a slap. I sat there with my mouth ajar. An awful sense of doubt crept over me. Was that it? Was that why I felt so uncomfortable?
‘I am not a – Fuck it!’ I muttered, crawling over to them on my hands and knees. There was no way to do this gracefully on a waterbed. I felt like an awkward puppy traipsing through tall grass. ‘I just don’t think this is a very good idea.’
‘Can’t you take some of that off?’ Sebastian looked down at my clothes with disgust. ‘Yes, definitely, this has to come off,’ he said, attacking my shirt buttons.
I looked over his shoulder at Jean who was kneeling behind him. ‘What are we doing here?’
He slid a hand over Sebastian’s shoulder, down his chest to his nipple and flicked the metal piercing. Sebastian inhaled sharply and his fingers fumbled with my buttons. ‘Well, Shira,’ Jean said, pushing his body against Sebastian’s back, ‘I do believe we’re going to fuck.’
Off came the shirt. It might be the one time I didn’t regret having miniscule tits; big breasts just wouldn’t have been right for the occasion. Still, if I’d had them, I would have at least afforded me the cover of a bra, and my nipples wouldn’t have looked quite so obviously erect. I wasn’t clear on why it bothered me that they knew I was aroused. Silly, really – but somehow I felt that it kept me from getting emotionally involved in a situation I had no right to have any feelings about at all.
Off came the skirt too, then the thigh-highs, because I thought it looked ridiculously porny to leave them on. Plus my skin felt like it was burning. That left me with just my panties when Sebastian pulled me down beside him and flung a leg over my hip. I looked past him to Jean who was squeezing what seemed like an enormous amount of gel out of the tube. I shivered and grabbed Sebastian’s hand, holding it tight.
‘Does this hurt?’ I whispered, and then immediately felt stupid for asking.
He pulled my hand to his lips, kissing the palm. ‘No. It feels beautiful.’ He twitched as Jean spread the lube between his ass cheeks, and scissored his legs wider, the uppermost settling higher on my hip.
Trapped and fighting a sense of impending doom, I was having vivid flashbacks of losing my virginity. Having been a late bloomer, the event was embarrassingly recent. I glanced past Sebastian’s angular hip to Jean. He caught my gaze and held it as he began to massage Sebastian’s hole, pushing his finger inside him to open him up. A sharp squeeze on my hand pulled my attention back to Sebastian. He had the most beatific look on his face, eyes glazed over and a small, secret smile tugging the corners of his parted lips. I covered our clasped hands with my free one and stared into those blind eyes.
My gaze drifted away from his face and down the length of his long, pale body. Either naturally or by artifice, he had no chest hair. The little silver barbells piercing his nipples winked and flared in the light of the candles. His nipples were dark, almost burgundy, and peaked with excitement. My own stiffened in sympathy. As much as I wanted to touch Sebastian, I hesitated, still terribly unsure of what role I was expected to play in this event. Down the length of his stomach to his navel, my eyes followed a fine, dark line of hair that thickened into a nest at the base of a very erect cock.
The bed moved, swells rippling beneath the surface. Jean was moving, stroking his lover’s side and positioning himself to the side and above him, straddling one leg. I had a momentary thought that this position wouldn’t work that well if you were a girl, and stifled another giggle. The sharp hiss of breath pulled me out of hetero-world as the bed undulated beneath us.
‘Oh God . . .’ It was Sebastian, looking straight into my eyes. And somehow, that sense of being overwhelmed jumped the gap between us and I almost gasped with him.
‘Kiss him, Shira.’ Jean was looking rather happy himself, easing his way into Sebastian’s ass.
‘What?’
‘Go on, kiss him.’
Confused, and a little anxious, I looked into Sebastian’s eyes, although it was doubtful he was seeing anything at all. ‘Do you want me to?’
He smiled and nodded, letting go of my hand and leaning forward. The mixture of dope and vodka had done strange things to my brain; my only thought, just before I kissed him, was that I really liked that particular shade of black cherry lipstick.
His lips were butter-soft and they trembled as I kissed them. I trailed my tongue along their seam and they opened instantly to let me in. The ghosts of chocolate and strawberry still haunted his tongue as it slithered into my mouth, probing and stroking mine. I raised my hand to his face, tracing the outline of his lips as we kissed. Then I curled it around his neck to pull him closer. The bed rocked beneath us and the cold steel ball of his piercing brushed against my nipple.
Sebastian’s lips pressed mine rhythmically as Jean fucked him. Somehow that seemed painfully, heartbreakingly poignant to me. What was this we were doing? Did they know what this was doing to me? It was changing me forever in some small but terribly significant way. Next time I dragged home some wannabe boyfriend I would be thinking of this moment, and regretting that it wasn’t like this.
Sebastian grabbed my hand, pulling it down, guiding it to his cock. I curled my fingers around it and felt its heat, its urgency. Pre-come wept from the head and I spread it down his length. He groaned and must have tightened his muscles, because I felt his cock jerk upward, and I heard Jean gasp. A flood of juices soaked through my panties in what I can only describe as the deepest erotic sympathy.
I pulled my head back and whispered, ‘Is it okay?’
‘Oh yes, definitely.’
‘Do we need another condom?’ asked Jean, who was looking down at my hand between Sebastian’s legs.
‘Yes.’
‘No!’ I snapped. I pulled my hand away and squirmed back a little.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ panted Jean. ‘Is that a yes, or a no?’ The question just hung in the air for a while and Jean stopped moving.
Sebastian laughed. ‘Don’t be such a prude, darling. It’s not friendly.’
His fingers traced down my side and slid under my panties at the hip. He tugged gently at first, the next tug was more forceful and the seam ripped apart.
‘Ow!’
‘That’s what you get for not lifting your hips politely.’ Sebastian’s hand burrowed between my legs, two fingers slid back and forth in the wet mess of my cunt. ‘Good lord, little Shira. You are just soaking down there!’ He craned his head back to Jean. ‘That’s a very definite yes.’
Considering the position we were all in, it was utterly pathetic, but the fact that I was that wet seemed terribly humiliating to me. ‘I – I’m like this all the time.’
‘That must make laundry a chore.’
Jean offered the condom to Sebastian, who freed his sticky hand to take it. He started a tear in the package with his teeth. ‘You’re such a liar, Shira. You’re all hot and bothered.’ His tongue flicked out, licking my wetness off the back of his fingers. ‘Mmm. Girly.’
‘Gee, thanks. And anyway, how would you know?’
Jean draped himself over Sebastian’s side and smirked. Their intercourse, it seemed, had come to a stop. ‘Oh, he’d know. Believe me.’
Sebastian rolled the condom on, grimacing at the chill. T
hen he put his arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. ‘Come here, darling,’ he purred. ‘I promise to respect you in the morning.’
I giggled at the retroism, right up until he rammed his cock into me. True, I had seen it, touched it, but I had never associated it with being inside me. I yelped when he entered. The speed of it, the size of it, I thought he’d ripped me apart.
‘Jesus Christ, Sebastian. You’re fucking huge! Do you think you could be a little gentler?’
Jean, who was still peeking over Sebastian’s side, smiled sweetly. ‘That’s why I don’t let him fuck me.’ And with that, he thrust into Sebastian with considerable force, which began a sort of chain reaction. Jean grunted, Sebastian moaned, I gasped. It got pretty noisy.
We all kind of slid sideways until I was vaguely on the bottom, although everyone was very nice about distributing weight. The waterbed did what I guessed waterbeds were supposed to do, which added an odd rebound effect to all the moving.
It wasn’t the fucking that made me come. Not the first time. Regardless of how wet I was, Sebastian’s cock still hurt. It was the echoes of pleasured gasps as Jean thrust into Sebastian, and Sebastian pushed into me. Like waves on the shore that follow and sometimes overtake each other, then retreat into chaos and foam before they wash in again. I didn’t want to be the first; it seemed so pathetic and girly. I felt weak, somehow, amidst all that strength, but the sounds just pushed me over.
I started to shudder. It might have started in my crotch, but it flowed up my body until I twitched all over, arching my back.
‘Shira, are you coming?’ panted Jean.
‘Uh – yes,’ I whimpered.
‘Me too. Oh, fuck!’
Sebastian was silent, but I felt him. He dug his fingers into my ass cheek and gave me this insane grin before he jerked and the smile got lost amidst the shuddering. The violence of the ensuing thrusts prolonged what had begun as something quite intense. I was convinced if I didn’t stop coming soon, I would go irredeemably insane. Sebastian finally stopped shuddering and came, gasping unintelligible things in my ear. His cock twitched wickedly inside me, and I heard Jean moan.
We lay in a panting puddle for a while. Then everyone politely pulled out of everyone else’s orifice.
‘That went well, I thought,’ said Jean cheerfully, standing up. He tied a deft knot in the end of his condom.
Sebastian rolled off me onto his back, pulling off his own. ‘Very well. Extremely well, actually.’
I opened my mouth but nothing much came out. They both looked at me with sweet but crazy expressions on their messed up faces. I moaned, tucked my hands between my legs and curled up on my side. A trickle of warm tears slid over the bridge of my nose. ‘Oh, God.’
‘That’s your fault, Sebastian,’ said Jean.
‘Don’t be insane! Women have babies.’
‘My point exactly. Just look at her. She looks like she’s just given birth to something unnatural. There’s no way I’m going to let you put your cock up my ass.’
The spasms in my cunt slowly ebbed away leaving behind a dull ache. I glared up at them both. ‘You planned this from the start, didn’t you? Way before dinner,’ I said quietly.
Jean fixed a ‘who me?’ look on his pretty face. ‘Anybody for a post-coital Grand Marnier?’ He turned and left for the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
‘We did discuss the possibility,’ said Sebastian dryly.
CHAPTER TWO:
BREATHE
I had woken up in love. Deeply, heartbreakingly, inappropriately in love.
Sebastian lay on this back, like a corpse. Jean had curled himself around me in his sleep. In the dark, trapped by a pale, carelessly flung arm and a stray leg, I listened to everyone breathe.
It was bad enough that, for years, I’d been lugging around a Godzilla-sized crush on Jean, but I had learned to live with that, and resigned myself to a platonic relationship. Now it didn’t seem so platonic, and it had extended itself to Sebastian. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to brush this off casually and with the levity I assumed was expected. In a world that admired aloofness, my heart was embarrassingly plebian and not aloof at all.
Perhaps this was why I had been so deeply hesitant the previous night. Now, of course, I was totally miserable. It was humiliating to realize I simply wasn’t mature or worldly enough to deal with everything I’d experienced in a socially acceptable manner. I couldn’t hang around until they woke up and go out to breakfast with them in the spirit of celebrating just a fun, crazy night.
As quietly and gently as I could, I eased Jean’s arm back onto his own side and squirmed my legs out from between his. The full disadvantages of a waterbed now became clear to me. I had to slither – belly down – off the frame and onto the floor to make my escape without waking anyone.
Standing over them, watching them sleep, I got a little weepy while I pulled my clothes on in the aquatinted pre-dawn light. They were so, so lovely. The hunt for my underwear took a while and, when I found them at the bottom of the bed, I remembered that they were not wearable anyway. Still, I tucked them into the pocket of my skirt, scared to leave any trace of my presence behind.
Out on the street, I flagged down a taxi. I was lucky to find one because, when I glanced at the clock on the dashboard, it was only a little after seven o’clock. The grey and green city slipped by and, feeling overwhelmed, I had a good long cry. The driver politely pretended he didn’t notice.
Once home, I had planned to creep in and barricade myself in my room for a couple of days, but my roommate, Liz, was coming home from her nightshift at the hospital. I met her on the unkempt walkway up to our front door.
‘Mm-mm, Shira! Still in your party clothes, I see. You look like you had some kind of night, girl!’ When she got a little closer, she caught my red-rimmed racoon eyes and said, ‘Or maybe not. Who was the bastard?’
‘It’s not like that,’ I replied, waving away her scrutiny.
She threaded her arm through mine and unlocked the door. ‘You just get your butt into the kitchen and make some tea for us while I get out of my uniform. Then you can tell twisted Auntie Lizzie all about it.’
I hesitated only a moment; it would be a relief to be able to unload on someone and, if there was anyone who would listen without judging, it was Lizzie. As a psychiatric nurse with a penchant for rough, anonymous sex, anything I could possibly tell Lizzie was going to seem banal to her.
The tea was steeping by the time she came into the kitchen in ripped up jeans and a death-metal t-shirt. Lizzie had a rather stunning if very feminine figure and I always wondered why she took so little pride in how she looked – probably because she didn’t have to. She’d look fine covered in pig shit.
‘Now, who’s the bastard who made my Shira cry?’ she said, before taking a sip of tea from the silly mug we had acquired that said ‘Fuck Me, I’m Blind’.
‘Oh. It really isn’t like that. Honestly.’
‘Then what’s it like, sweetie?’
The tears welled up in my eyes and my face crumpled up. ‘I slept with Jean and Sebastian!’ I sobbed.
Liz looked confused. ‘Okay. And what’s the problem?’
‘N-now – oh shit, it’s going to sound so dumb – now I’m . . .’
Liz raised an eyebrow and launched in helpfully, ‘You’re what? God, girl, did you fuck without a condom? Because if you did, so help me, I’m gonna . . .’
‘No! No! I’m . . . . I’m in love,’ I said miserably. ‘And don’t tell me they’re gay and I’m stupid. I know all that already.’
‘Which one?’ She knew who they were; everyone knew who they were.
‘Both.’
‘Oh.’
I sobbed loudly for a while, hiccupping and making a general hullabaloo. To her credit, Liz just passed me a couple of paper napkins and sipped her tea, staring out the window onto the untended, garbage-strewn backyard.
Finally, I blew my nose, swiped at my mascara-stained tears and gav
e a deep, shuddering sigh. ‘See? It’s bad.’
Liz reached across the battered, retro chrome and melamine kitchen table and gave my hand a squeeze. ‘Yup, Shira, it’s bad, but you’ll live.’
Nodding, I hauled myself out of the chair and took refuge in my bedroom. The bed was unmade from the day before and I was glad of it. It made a nice little nest to curl up and die in, which was metaphorically exactly what I did, clothes and all.
Something prodded me and it hurt. I rolled over and squinted up at a giant cordless phone.
‘What?’ I complained hoarsely, craning my neck to look at my clock. I’d only been asleep for four hours.
‘It’s the phone.’ Liz jiggled it in front of me. ‘It’s Jean.’
‘Tell him I’m out . . . . or asleep . . . or dead.’
‘You tell him.’ She let the phone drop onto my pillow.
I shot her the bleary look of a thousand painful deaths and fumbled with the receiver. ‘Hi?’
‘Excuse me, but am I correct in thinking that you don’t want to take my call?’ Jean was doing someone’s mother-from-hell impression.
‘Jesus, Jean. I was just sleeping.’
‘And since when do civilized people fuck and run? Where are you, Shira? We want to go for breakfast. We need caffeine. We need pancakes. We need to commune and discuss things. The Elbow Room. We’ll see you there in – say – about thirty minutes, right?’
‘No. Jean, you go ahead. I’m exhausted.’
‘Shira?’ Jean’s voice turned hard and un-Jean-like. ‘You wouldn’t want us to think you didn’t like us any more. You wouldn’t want to give us the impression that we hadn’t been the perfect hosts, now would you?’
Then, of course, without waiting for a response, he hung up. That way he could be assured of avoiding any answer he didn’t want.
Liz stood, arms crossed, peering down at me. ‘Shira, get your ass out of bed. Right now, girl!’ She grabbed my arm and hauled me up with unrestrained brutality. Liz was a big girl and strong, too. After all, her job involved manhandling all those two hundred pound, undermedicated psychotics on the ward. Secretly, I felt tremendous compassion for them.
Beautiful Losers (Modern Erotic Classics) Page 2