by Ryan Ramsay
“Fuck you.”
“What?” she shifts numbingly.
Yeah, that’s right. I said it.
“Fuck you, Amy. You can’t stand there with that cross so far up your ass that you can’t see it. Wake up. This is not us. This is not freedom. It is not the freedom I have found. It hasn’t been, ever since they died—”
“Don’t you dare speak of them that way. And what do you know, hmm?” she spits. “What do you know of freedom? All day long you stay in this house and get fed and watered on stuff Grandma has worked tirelessly for over the years, and what I make working my skin off at the market.”
Hmm.
“You’re right. I’m too young to remember how awesome our parents were. How terrific the scars on your back are. How fucking tasteful your phobia for dark spaces is. Look. I’m not denying that you and Grandma have done so much for me. But it’s time I left. I’m an adult, remember? There’s nothing you can do about it.”
She stands, legs apart and nostrils flaming. I grip my bag tighter and bid to move forward. She inches to the side, blocking me.
“Amy, we both know what is going to happen,” I tell her. “My mind is made up. You of all people know how draining this town can be. Don’t you want to grow and build something of yourself in this world that hasn’t been indoctrinated down your throat so hard you believe it is your own? Don’t you want to taste some kind of freedom that is yours and yours alone, no one else’s?”
“No,” she quips.
I tilt my head to the side and sigh. There is no helping her.
“Then I’m gone.”
I push past her thick bodice and trudge down the stairs. The sun hits the walls, the carpet, the recently dusted wall skirting, the neatly done dishes, the stained and broken Tom cat on the mantle, the spine-cracked books on the mini-shelf Amy inherited from dad, mom’s old plates, and Grandma’s silver shiny knitting picks just right.
The door swings open perfectly, and the wind blows in dramatically on my face.
“You won’t even say goodbye to Grandma? Not even to mom and dad’s photo on the mantle?” asks Amy behind me.
She’s distraught and definitely trying badly to hide it.
“To them, no. They won’t know the difference. I carry them with me in my heart wherever I go, anyway. For Grandma, I already left her a note.”
“A note?” she asks, almost torn in disbelief. “Ten years and all she gets is a note?”
“It’s better than my gift to you,” I say.
“And what’s that?”
“Other than indifference, big sister? A wish. A wish that you may one day find the strength to pull away from this dread and live. Finally live, Amy. Don’t stay stuck in this godforsaken religion of yours because you think and believe that it all happens for a reason. News flash: it doesn’t. Mom and dad are dead. You have to deal with that sooner or later or it will eat you alive.”
“You think you know everything, don’t you?”
“I don’t.”
“You think you know me, huh?”
“Again, I don’t. But I wish I did.”
The neighbors do not barbeque this evening. They do not pass by the block. They do not play ball or skip rope outside on their lawns. Out here it is just us. Just Amy and me. And she speaks.
“Then go. I have no hold on you.”
A growling hum vibrates from the corner of my eye. I turn slightly to the edge of the street. It’s a black limo. At the end of its long tail, a man gets out and stands at an open door. Damien.
They came back for me.
“You make me angry, you know that?” I ask her.
“Why?” she asks, resignedly.
“You’ve had all the chances in the world to leave. Like the one I’m giving you. And you still stay here. And you don’t even raise your voice at me. You just let me go. Like I don’t exist. Well, you know one thing? It gives me peace. I know I can find happiness. It is my choice. It is my choice to leave and figure out what the world means, and not just stay here to take care of Grandma, who by the way has a thing for younger men if you never noticed. Amy, all I wish for you is the spark. Find it.”
I walk across the porch and drag my suitcase across the outgrowing grass skirting my thighs. She leans along the white and brown wooden frame and looks at me with either remorse or sadness.
“Find happiness, sister. Find freedom. Find me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Logan
Like butter on crunchy toast, she still looks amazing, even after what I think I just saw.
She walks to the limo, dragging a red and green mini suitcase behind her. She is in flat heels and a skater dress. Her face is wet. Tears. I think she just left home.
“Christy dear, are you alright?” asks Damien.
She falls into his chest and sobs lightly. Ron looks at me and rises from his side of the limo and gets out. I follow. I walk to the front of the car and tap on the glass.
The driver, immaculately dressed in a pressed gray suit, gets out and follows swiftly to the direction of my nod. He sets her suitcase in the trunk and resumes his position without a sound.
I turn and watch the three hug in a loving embrace. Christy. Our Christy. My good luck charm. I reach out and rub her hair. Silky. Halfway dry.
“Come on. Let’s get in the car,” I say.
One by one, her hands in ours, we lean forward and get into the limo. The sound of winds howling is replaced by emptied joy in a vacuum-sealed white-lighted opulence-dripping soundproofed tinted fully furnished limo.
I sit next to her, and she falls on me, arms tightly wrapped around my torso. She holds onto me hard, and I embrace her with all I’ve got. After a few minutes of silence, she rises from my chest.
Wet. Smiling. The most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes upon.
“You came. You all came for me,” she says.
“What, you thought we left you high and dry?” asks Damien.
She scoffs and gently laughs. Ron wipes her tears away.
“We were never gone. We just had a lot to do at the office.”
“And now here we are. Are you okay?” I ask.
Christy sniffs and says, “No. I just left home for good.”
We all watch her in silence, knowing not to pry. She deserves her privacy.
“I speak for all of us when I see we admire your strength. It’s never easy leaving home from somewhere you feel dragged down,” says Damien.
“Your family will be fine,” I add.
“Besides, we really missed you,” says Damien.
“Really,” Ron and I say with a smile.
“Aaw. Then I’m glad you didn’t just think of me as a one-time snack,” says Christy.
Her grip around me is still strong. I like that.
“Actually, when we were at the mansion and you passed out,” I say, “we talked it over.”
“Talked what over?” she asks.
Her eyes beam with curiosity.
I sigh and start.
“About how much we like you. More than just for the sex. And that was before everything has been so good to us since we spilled our collective seed in you. The merger—”
“Oh, oh, the merger! You mentioned it in the field while we were treasure hunting. How did it go?” she asks, sounding excited.
“See, that’s the thing. Everything, and I mean everything, has gone extremely well over the last few days. Our business has grown stronger, and so has our bond. The thing we talked over… is becoming one.”
“One?” she asks.
I offer a smile. So do Ron and Damien.
“We are asking you to be our girlfriend.”
I can smell her excitement and angst over my query. Her eyes light up. Her grip around me tightens as she lets go. She clearly doesn’t hesitate when she squeaks,
“Yes!”
No one speaks. We practiced it in our minds and talked about what we would do to her on our drive here even if the answer was no. I grab the top
of her dress and rip it down forcefully.
It sears apart like confetti. Ron and Damien grab each of her legs and hoist her up, high above their shoulders. I placate my tongue and teeth on her soft neck and suck, bite as my hands hoist her over my shoulders.
Finally suspended and close to the roof of the car, we three devour at the same time. The boys dive into her pussy with tongues unabated, licking and nipping away at the fabric of her underwear. Christy writhes under my touch as slowly, deliberately; we caress her skin and pinch where we know she is softest.
Levitating above us is a goddess who has no idea of the power she possesses. She moves her legs to the tune of the tongues slipping and slurping inside of her in incoherent unison. Her throat is grabbed and choked by her own masters, deities willing to put enough of them inside of her as possible. Her body quakes silently as an inkling of an orgasm tides through her. Her body rises, clenching.
We do not stop. I do not stop. She falls quietly, heaving, onto waiting dripping cocks. I shut my eyes and revel in the warmth of her mouth. She moans loudly at the pervasive entry of two cocks inside her cunt and rose. I feel them thrust in her, hard. I thrust back, and she takes it.
She.
Fucking.
Takes it.
And we all love giving it to her.
Chapter Nineteen
Christy
They love me. They actually love me.
My insides coil at the thought and sight of the three of them naked and around me, holding onto the last drips of my chastity. I am theirs now. I am all theirs to do as they please.
The limo hummed a long time ago after Damien came in my mouth. Ron talked with the driver as I sucked his cock, and Logan sucked on my clit along the bumpy road till I came and slightly screamed.
We laughed. We did. I see them play across my skin with fingers and drooling cocks as the limo leaves the city lights. I can see through the tinted windows a sky already littered with dancing stars and lonesome clouds.
We quietly talk and joke about Damien’s intent on almost hyperventilating before smacking my ass and spewing his seed in me. Ron brings up the issue of birth control, and I tell them I’m on the pill. They say they’ve been checked for diseases and they’re clean; I have never had any occasion to need such tests.
They joke that we are going to need super strong birth control for all the sex we’ve been having and plan to have. Then we all joke that perhaps it would be fun to have a baby together. I’m not sure how much any of us are actually joking. I smile and drift in and out of sleep as the three men, my saviors, talk all the good and nasty about me.
The last thing I see before shutting my eyes and snuggling into Logan’s broad chest is the constant flicker of street lights against the tall buildings. I am home. I am home with them.
“Christy. Christy, dear. Wake up.”
“Huh?”
“Wake up. We’re here.”
My eyes are groggy and my clit dry. Funny how aware I am of my nakedness. Naked. I am naked.
Why am I naked? I react suddenly and huddle whatever thing I can find to my revealed chest.
Laughter. There are peals of laughter coming from ahead. Ron. No, Logan. Shit. They sound alike. Deep and brutally sexy. I rub my eyes with an open palm and squint ahead. The limo door is open. The men are naked. The engine is quiet. Ron clears his throat.
“Welcome home, Christy.”
His hand is out, open and inviting. Logan and Damien smile approvingly. I grab it and let go of the ash tray covering my tits. Ah, that’s why they laughed. He leads me through the door and onto warm gravel.
The breeze hits me hard, not cool, but mixed with autumn hues and deliberate summer warmth. It almost feels controlled. The sky is dark. Too dark. Illuminated by one thing I almost stride once back to take it all in.
“Is that even legal?” I ask.
Ron laughs. Damien rolls his eyes. Logan looks on and pets his flaccid cock.
“It is, and it is my home,” says Ron while grabbing my hand. “Welcome one and all.”
It is much bigger than the one Mia had in store for us. It is more opulent. Dreamier. More ancient. More sinister. I don’t think I need to think about it. I’ll explode. Or not. Maybe just a tiny implosion.
“We can all live here if you want,” says Ron.
He stands in the middle of what I think is the ballroom and raises his arms in complete satisfaction.
“All of this can be yours if you wish.”
“Well, we also have mansions of our own,” says Logan. “We could rotate turns living in each of them.”
“Are they as big as this?” I ask, taken by the gel-like chandeliers hanging on the mile-high walls.
Damien coughs.
“No. Not really.”
“Ron’s is the biggest,” admits Logan.
“Well, among other things,” boasts Ron.
“So, just because you’re a shower and not a grower, you have all the fun with Christy?” asks Damien in spite.
“I think that’s what he’s saying, friend,” adds Logan.
Shit.
“Hey, hey. There’s no need to fight over me,” I start. “I am here, right now. With you all. I am the luckiest girl in the world right now. There is no Kardashian or princess of any nation who is as lucky as I am to have three dashing men all to herself.”
“So… you are happy?” asks Ron.
“I am.” I pause. “Well, if my sister Amy could leave home, I would truly be happy.”
I think, after all this time, I now realize how badly off we were raised as kids. Mom and dad always had favorites between us two, and every time we were together something would spike anger, a thinning, between us.
I know my parents had their own issues and didn’t mean to cause us pain. But I see now that the rift between Amy and me could be a lot smaller if I were willing to patch it up. Ever since the night they died, we have never even tried to work on our relationship. Grandma tried. Failed. Look where that got us.
“Honey,” says Damien, “you can only let people do what they want to do. Maybe some day, one day, Amy will call.”
“You think so?” I ask.
“I know so. She has your number.”
I turn around and see all that I have at my disposal. At my feet. I’m rich. I am loved. Life has blessed me in a way it never should have. But it did. She’ll come around. I know it.
I see a glistening blue crystal space just at the corner of the dining hall. I tip my toe towards it and hold Ron’s hand first, placing it on my shoulder.
Logan is next. Then Damien. All three follow my lead to the outside; a pool, spanning yards, sits beside a steaming Jacuzzi.
I step into the bubbly water. It’s warm, just right. They follow. I grab my footing at the rough pumice-like surface and let the water froth around my nipples as I take a knee. My clit tingles at the prospect.
They surround me and let their cocks slap my face. The blue light emanating from under the pool lets their different cocks glow haloed.
“Make love to me,” I whisper.
Damien and Logan hold my cheeks and lean forward. They both kiss me at the same time. Two tongues… tasty. Efficient. Erotic.
The third one is under the water parting my thighs. The bubbles. Ron’s tongue. I open my eyes to see both Damien and Logan switch from nipple to nipple. I breathe heavily and grab onto Ron’s head. I pull his hair. He places my ass on his chest and rises out of the water. Limp and horny, I straddle his neck and let him eat. Logan places his mouth on mine.
Damien…I guess he’s the one licking my skin off. I open my eyes and see the open sky watching. I feel bare, open. And they know it. And they don’t stop. And they don’t stop licking. Eating. Kissing. Caressing. Skin on skin and cocks hardening. Asshole. Pussy. Clit. Knees. Elbows. Tongue. Navel. I feel them everywhere.
Everywhere and nowhere. Hands. Feet. Ears. Chin. God my chin! He bites it so gently. My clit… oh god, my clit… my pussy…my asshole… my thighs… my
nipples…my throat…
Quietly I moan as they subdue my core and make me echo in unending orgasmic pitch.
Chapter Twenty
Damien
She swallows it all in. All of it. Down her asshole. And she watches the entire process.