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“How are you ever going to become a saint if you keep fucking everything in sight?” Mark asked me, glaring down from the edge of the pit.
“I don’t want to be a fucking saint!” I screamed, wild, leaping flames roaring to life around me. “I want to be your slave. Nothing more, because I am nothing more.”
“Stupid little cunt,” a red-skinned, voluptuous brunette sneered, forked tail lashing behind her. “He doesn’t want trash like you. He likes his girls at least to seem to be respectable before he takes them into his bed and fucks them like the sluts they really are. Oh, and he likes actual tits too.”
A shrill, cackling laugh erupted from the demoness’s fat lips while she grasped and lifted her enormous boobs. I screamed and screamed, trying to climb out of the pit, trying to avoid the fire, trying to get to Mark and his fat-tittied bitch so I could claw her fucking eyes out.
“She’s always been a worthless nympho cunt,” a new girl said, blonde hair in sharp contrast to her bare maroon flesh.
“Amara,” I croaked as despair and anger swirl in my mind, noting that my former friend’s body, which she now pressed against Mark as she rubbed his groin, looked precisely how I wanted mine to be, at least in the secret depths of my heart.
“It’s the boobs,” my mother’s voice boomed in my head. “And the extra few inches of height. Shit, her body looks more like mine than yours ever will.”
“Yeah, it’s the boobs, you stupid little twat,” the Amara demon laughed.
“And the height,” the brunette demon snickered. “Boobs and height… and not being a shameless slut all the time is why Mark picked me.”
“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” I screamed, but my voice was lost in their laughter. Tears streaming down my face, I fell to my knees on the burning stones and let the fire consume me…
“Wake up, Jessi,” a voice cut through the din, and everything around me changed. The brightness of hellfire was replaced by soothing darkness lit only by a distant light. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was. Siting up, a blanket slid off me and to the floor. I patted the cushion beneath me, felt its rough texture. I wasn’t in my apartment. And the thing I was sitting on was not my bed, but rather a couch.
“You had a nightmare,” a female voice told me. I realized someone was standing at the end of the couch, but all I saw was a silhouette. A scream fought to be free itself from my lungs, but in the same instant, I recognized the voice.
“Sheri?’ I asked, my voice hoarse, and everything came rushing back to me—Kent and Brad, hooking up with them, putting on a show for them, sharing them, taking turns with them, the two of them fucking me at once, and Kent leaving after revealing how big an asshole he really was.
“Yeah. You were whimpering and crying in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare?”
“Yeah. I was in a burning pit, and Mark and Jessika and Amara were taunting me, but Jessika and Amara were demons… I tried to yell at them, but they just laughed.”
“Do you mean you were with Mark taunting yourself? And who’s Amara?”
“No, I mean her. Jessika with a ‘k’. Mark’s fat slut. The one he chose over me.”
“You never told me that before. It’s kinda messed up, I think. It seems so, um, weird that he was dating two women named Jessica…”
“It’s why he called me Jessi,” I shrugged, not wanting to get into all of it.
“Do you prefer Jessica or Jessi? I met you as Jessi…”
“Jessi is fine. I go by it a lot,” I assured my friend with benefits. I did not tell her how much it bothered me that the other Jessika took that name while I was stuck with Jessi with Mark, and that sometimes that reality hurt… and pissed me off.
“Okay. But who’s Amara?”
“The first girl Mark and I had a threesome with. My former friend.”
“Oh, I see. Are you…?”
“Did Brad leave?” I asked, needing to change the subject before the millipedes that were stirring in my head fully awakened.
“Nah, he’s sleeping. I was going to wake him and tell him to go, but he looked quite comfortable, so I didn’t.”
“You guys had fun?”
“Fuck yeah,” the strawberry blonde laughed, sitting beside me. “That boy can lick pussy. He’s as good as half the girls I’ve been with.”
“As good as me?” I murmur, kissing her neck and bringing her unresisting hand up to my bare tits. I’d not bothered getting dressed after I showered away the shame of letting an asshole like Kent do what he did to me. I’d found a blanket in the hall closet and curled up on the couch naked.
“No,” Sheri sighed, and for a moment, she leaned in against me before pulling her hand away from my breasts. “Did you let Kent fuck you bareback?”
I shrugged my shoulders, looking down. Sheri had been adamant that I shouldn’t let either of the guys fuck my pussy without a condom. I had gone along despite my dislike for condoms. At least, I’d gone along until Trent insulted Sheri. She and Brad had gone to her room, leaving me alone with Kent. After that, he filled my cunt with cum. And I’d washed it all out as soon as antalya escort he left.
“I took a shower,” I said when the silence grew uncomfortable.
“You need to be smarter about this shit, Jessi,” my friend sighed.
“Yeah, he turned out to be a real asshole.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“It’s not a big deal…”
“It is to me. I’m going back to bed.”
“I’m going back to bed,” she said again as she walked down the short hall toward the bedroom.
I sat for a moment, thinking. About Mark and Jessika. About Mark and Amara. About Sheri. And about Kent. Streams of millipedes stampeded through my mind, and I considered looking through Sheri’s kitchen to see where she kept her alcohol. But I needed to pee first, so I made my way to the bathroom.
Waiting for me outside the bathroom door, startling me, lurked Sheri.
“Shit! Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry. I just thought you might like a sleep shirt.”
“You’re not afraid it’ll catch something from me?”
“That’s not what I mean, Jessi. I’m worried about you…”
“I’ll be fine,” I shrugged, taking the sleep shirt. My friend’s concern made me feel both happy and guilty, a combination sure to promote brain bugs. So after we said our further goodnights, I went to Sheri’s kitchen and found an open bottle of wine.
* * *
“Time to go, Brad,” a whispered voice said, the sibilant sounds of it filtering through the fog infesting my brain. A smacking sound followed by a girlish giggle followed. I squinted against the glare in the room, making out two shapes near the door, two shapes that resolved themselves into Sheri, still in her sleep shirt, and a dressed Brad.
“I can’t leave without your number,” he said, landing another smack on my friend’s barely covered bottom.
“You can,” Sheri grinned at him. “I told you…”
“…you prefer girls for dating. I know. But a guy can dream, can’t he?”
“Maybe,” the strawberry blond shrugged, but I could hear uncertainty underneath the playfulness in her voice. Something must have happened in the night, something that was making my friend-with-benefits reconsider her stance on dating girls and only hooking up with guys.
“Can you guys flirt a little more quietly, please?” I asked, surprised by the roughness of my voice.
“Shit, Jessi,” Sheri groaned. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Brad offered, staring at me as I set up and glared at them from the couch. “And sorry about Kent too. Sheri told me what an asshole he was before he left. Oh, and about me being a jerk at first too. I get that way when I’m nervous.”
“No biggie. I’ve been with worse assholes. Besides, I think Sheri had fun, at least after she got you alone.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” Brad nodded, glancing at my suddenly blushing friend. “Can you talk her into giving me her number…”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sheri snarled. “Give me your phone.”
Brad, grinning like an idiot, handed his phone to Sheri, who called her phone. She then thrust Brad’s phone back in his hands, gave him a quick kiss, yanked open the door, and shoved him out of it.
“I had a great time,” Brad said before she shut the door in his face. But I’d seen her nod to him as she closed it.
“He’s good in bed,” Sheri shrugged. “It’d be nice to have a guy who knows what he’s doing available.”
“Yeah? What makes him so good? I mean, you told me about the pussy licking last night, but even so, I’d never guessed…”
“His cock hits me in all the right places, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? And he was very nice to me this morning too. Sweet even. Is it a crime to enjoy that?”
“Not at all,” I smirked, forcing myself to my feet and stepping in front of my friend.
“Shut up,” Sheri sighed, even though I didn’t say anything else.
“Do I have to worry about you thinking about Brad when we…”
Sheri’s green eyes stopped me cold. Anger and something else I couldn’t identify simmered in them, and I took a step back.
“No, I’m sorry, Jessi,” Sheri said with a shake of her head. “I just can’t get past you letting that asshole fuck you without a condom.”
“Should I go?”
“No, you don’t have to.”
“Are you going to keep treating me like a leper all day?”
“I’m not treating you…”
The milling mass of centipedes that had been building in my head exploded into chunks of churning legs as a swarm of rage beetles detonated among them. After the shit I’d been through with Kent, I didn’t need Sheri’s continuing judgment.
“I’ll get an uber,” I told her, picking up my dress where it lay crumpled on the floor. “If I could just borrow this shirt to go home in…”
“I’ll get you some sweats and a different shirt,” the strawberry blonde offered, but I wanted nothing from her at that point. All I wanted was to be home, to be by myself.
* * *
Riding in the uber, wearing borrowed sweats and t-shirt and still tasting Sheri’s parting—and alanya escort apologetic—kiss on my lips, I looked at my phone for the first time since the night before. As I read through seven texts from Mark, all wanting assurances I was okay, my stomach twisted and heaved, and I was afraid I wouldn’t make it home before I puked. As it was, I barely made it to my bathroom. After another shower, I called Sheri.
“Hey, sorry about this morning,” I told her when she picked up her phone.
“Me too, Jessi.”
“It was a weird night.”
“Yeah, it was. I mean, some of it was okay.”
“Some of it was fantastic,” I replied, thinking about everything that happened before Kent showed his true colors.
“Um, I wanted to tell you that I got a shit-ton of texts from Mark yesterday.”
“He wants to know if I’m doing okay.”
“He dumped you, and now he’s texting you to see how you’re doing? Well, fuck him!”
I’d like to, I thought, but I knew that wasn’t what my friend meant. I asked her what she thought I should do.
“Change your number,” Sheri said without hesitation. “You can probably do it today online. I can with my phone company.”
“But what if…”
“No ‘what ifs’, Jessi. You don’t need this from him.”
No, I don’t, I silently agreed.
* * *
“Hey, Dad? It’s Jessica.”
“Hey, Jessica. It’s good to hear from you. Is this a new phone number?”
“Yeah. I broke up with a guy…” I started, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Is he bothering you, Jessica?” my dad asked, and the love and concern in his voice brought tears to my eyes.
“No, Dad. He’s texting me to see how I’m doing, because I didn’t break up with him. He… he…”
“It’s okay, Baby. He’s an idiot if he broke up with you.”
A sea of tears and sorrow and longing flooded me, driving away all the brain bugs, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts and my pain. With my dad on the other end of the phone, I sobbed and sobbed. He didn’t say anything. He somehow knew that just his listening was enough for me.
“Anyway, if you could give everyone my new number, I’d appreciate it,” I said when I gained control of myself again.
“Of course, Jessica.”
“And one more thing. Once he finds out I changed my number, he may call you.”
“How would he have my number?”
“He’d have access to my emergency contact info. He works at the college.”
“Oh, Jessica…” my dad sighed, and I worried I heard disappointment in that sound.
“I initiated everything,” I blurted, afraid he might think I’d been coerced or forced into something. “And he’s a great guy who cares about me. We’re just not… right… for each other.”
“I see,” my father replied, his tone unreadable.
“His name’s Mark. If he calls, please tell him I can’t talk to him. I appreciate his concern, but I just can’t…”
“I will, Jessica. I promise.”
“Thanks, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you, baby girl.”
* * *
Morning came much too early on Monday. I woke where I’d passed out, sitting at the kitchen table with an empty bottle of tequila in front of me. In my defense, it had only been a quarter full when I started. On the other hand, I’d barely eaten on Sunday. Both hunger and dehydration screamed at me as I took a cold shower, but I pushed them away. I could eat and drink on the way to work, but I wouldn’t make it on time if I did either before I left.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I said, waving to my boss as I rushed past his door.
“You’re only a couple minutes late, Jessica,” Karl said, looking up from his desk.
“Feels like more,” I replied, trying to smile.
“No worries,” he smiled back his goofy grin.
When I got to my cubicle, I chugged my second bottle of water, along with four ibuprofens. The first twenty minutes or so were tough, but after that, I got into a rhythm, and the only thing that interrupted me before lunch was an urgent need to urinate after I’d been there about an hour. While I was in the bathroom, I texted Sheri.
“Anything else from Mark?” she asked.
“Not after I changed my #, but my dad texted me he called there.”
“R U OK?”
“Could U go out Thursday night?”
“No, just us. Unless we wanted to find a guy…”
I clamped my thighs together as a twinge deep in my pussy sent shivers up my spine. I wasn’t sure whether it was the thought of being with Sheri or the comment we could find a guy to share, but one of the two, if not both, had gotten me going.
“I work Friday.”
“We don’t have to stay out late.”
I returned to my cubicle and focused on my work. The tingle didn’t go away, but I ignored it. At least I did until lunchtime. As soon as my break started, I rushed to the bathroom, locked the stall door, pulled my jeans and panties down, yanked my top and bra up, and attacked my clit with one hand and my tits alanya rus escort with the other. At first, I thought of Sheri, but then my mind conjured up a shadowy guy, with both of us on our knees sucking him until he filled Sheri’s mouth, which she shared with me. I had just realized the guy in my fantasy was Mark when my orgasm hit.
“Fuck,” I groaned, the tingle returning as soon as my climax lessened. I should’ve never thought about Mark. I was as horny as ever, and I only had a few minutes to wolf down lunch before I returned to work.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Karl called as I walked past his office. “You looked kind of stressed this morning.”
“Better,” I lied, hating the serious look on my boss’s face. When he smiled his goofy smile, I had no desire to do anything with him. But his serious face left me with an entirely different feeling. And given that jilling-off had given me only an instant of relief, the last thing I needed from Karl was his serious face, the one that made me think maybe I’d like to fuck him, or at least suck his cock.
“Good. It seems you’ve had a rough time of it lately.”
“Kinda,” I admitted, doing my best to ignore the small spasms in my pussy walls. Then an idea hit me. “Do you think I could take Friday off and work Saturday instead? My friend works Friday and Saturday nights, but she’s off Thursday. I’d like to go out with her.”
“Sounds fun,” Karl smiled, and all my desire for him melted away. “But make sure Cami will be in on Saturday. In fact, as long as Cami works on a particular Saturday, you can take Fridays off and work Saturdays without asking.”
“Thanks, Karl,” I said, returning his smile, thankful that I no longer wanted to fuck him.
* * *
“My boss is letting me take Fridays off and work Saturdays,” I told Sheri on the phone that night. She’d called me from the restaurant to see how I was feeling.
“Great!” the other girl said. “We’ll go out to a club Thursday.”
“You’re off tomorrow night too, right?” I asked, wanting to suggest maybe we hang out at her place.
“No, I was off Sunday and then again on Thursday.”
“Shit. That’s right.”
“You can come over after I’m off tonight, or tomorrow night.”
Sheri’s offer tempted me, but I knew we’d end up being up too late. I had to get through the week on my own.
* * *
“No tequila last night,” I texted Sheri the next morning on my break.
“Yeppers. Just drank water and watched a movie,” I sent back, not telling her I’d actually watched porn and gotten myself off several times. I knew she wouldn’t judge me doing that, but I didn’t want to tell her the porn I watched had all been pretty heavy BDSM and humiliation stuff. I’d done the same things during weeks in which Mark and I had not been able to be together, but it felt different somehow.
“Sounds good. Want 2 hang out 2nite?”
A part of me wanted to type ‘yes’—almost typed ‘yes’. But another part of me wanted to be alone. And that part proved stronger.
“Don’t want 2 be up 2 l8t. Trying 2 get my shit together @ work.”
“No problem, sweetie.”
I almost told her I’d changed my mind. But as I started to type, a little voice in my head, the one that sometimes sounded like my mother, advised against getting too close to Sheri. My relationships never lasted, with men or women, and I knew better than to grow dependent on this one, especially right after Mark. A rush of centipedes agreed with my mother’s sentiments, and I went along with them so they would not turn into millipedes.
* * *
“This place is crazy,” I called to Sheri’s back as we made our way to a row of booths off the dance floor. Loud, pulsating music assaulted my eardrums, and I wondered whether I should’ve stayed home. “Lots of women here.”
“It’s Ladies’ Night,” the strawberry blonde said, sitting down in a booth.
“I thought they weren’t allowed to have those anymore,” I replied, sitting across from my friend but wishing we were somewhere else.
“It’s on the down-low,” Sheri told me. “I know a bartender here. When the bill comes, if we mention how bad it is they’re not allowed to have a real ladies’ night anymore, they’ll discount our drinks.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
“Works out for us. Plus, guys know what’s up, so they come here too.”
A waitress showed up and took our drink orders. She looked at me funny, but she didn’t ask me for any ID. I thought about mentioning it to Sheri, but her eyes were fixed on the dance floor while her bare shoulders moved with the music. I followed her gaze, my stomach dropping when I saw the object of her attention.
A brunette woman, average height and curved in all the places men usually liked, moved in perfect time with the music. A lowcut blouse clung to her chest, revealing a wide expanse of tan cleavage. Tight jeans flowed over her hips and round ass, and despite the fact I wore a minidress without a bra, I knew most guys wouldn’t look at me twice if I were beside her on the dance floor. Or at least that’s what the sudden swell of millipedes in my brain whispered to me.
“Shit, that girl can dance,” Sheri said, glancing at me.
“She’s a fat cow,” I snarled, although in the abstract, I wouldn’t have called any other woman shaped like her fat. But I made an exception for this particular woman.
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