Chapter 17: Jade

Tuesday, February 14, 2023

I could not believe how fast my second semester of college was flying by. Every time I blinked, it was a new week. My life was a whirlwind of classes, tests, studying, working, and, when I could find the time, sex. With the promise of an orgy hanging in the air, our whole group seemed dialed in and focused on getting the best grades possible. The guys in our group were heavily involved in sports, which meant they were gone occasionally for games or matches. All of them played baseball for the school except Samuel, who wrestled. The baseball team was doing well and had the potential to make a deep run into the postseason.

I continued to organize weekly study sessions and hookups for the group, which was no small task given how busy I already was. But I was glad to do it. It helped me as much as it helped everybody else.

Who was I hooking up with? Well, mostly Fanny, Drew, or one of the other guys when they were available. The previous Saturday, I’d had Fanny and Drew over for a threesome. Despite Hannah and Sarah’s talk about being bi-curious, they only requested dick whenever they emailed me for a discreet hookup to be arranged. Due to the busyness of everybody’s schedules, most of us only had time for something once a week, if that. It amazed me to see how much time sports took from the guys’ schedule, plus there was Gretchen, whose cheerleading kept her the busiest of all of us. Sometimes, she had to study for exams on the sidelines of basketball or baseball games. Organizing study sessions and hookups around all these activities was no easy task.

I also signed up to join an intramural indoor ultimate frisbee league to get more exercise. It was the only sport that fit what little time I had to play and practice. Fortunately, Fanny and Hannah joined the team, which made it way more fun. Our team wasn’t great, but Hannah and a couple of her guy friends kept us competitive, and we won our first two matches by slim margins.

And yet, no matter how busy I was, I couldn’t block out the constant reminder of what Nicholas had told me a month earlier. Marcy is in terrible danger. And she needs your help. I had told myself Marcy was no longer my responsibility. But I never believed it. Sure, she had given up any claim to my care or concern when she cheated on me, but I felt shitty about telling Nicholas to deal with it.

Filling up my schedule with everything I could think of didn’t stop the anxiety for my ex-lover. Dark thoughts crept into my mind in the slower moments of the day and the silent hours of the night. But I ultimately consoled myself with the same conclusion: What could I do if Marcy was in danger from the forces of hell and demons?

And yet there was this nagging question: If I truly could do nothing, why did Nicholas keep approaching me for help?

Tuesday night, Valentine’s Day, I was at work. I didn’t have a Valentine, so it wasn’t a big deal. Marcos was gone on a date, so Velma and I held down the fort. We hadn’t spoken to each other much since she had gotten me in trouble with Marjorie, which was fine as I didn’t enjoy talking to her that much.

Around 10 p.m., I noticed Velma hadn’t been around the checkout counter for at least thirty minutes. The library was very slow by that point in the evening, so I put a sign on the counter saying we would be back momentarily and ventured away from the desk to look for her. I found her in the first place I checked: the women’s restroom. I heard her crying from one of the stalls.

I almost left the restroom but then paused and considered what I would have wanted in that situation. I thought I would like somebody to talk to me and ask if I was okay. So, I cleared my throat and said, “Velma? It’s Jade. Do you need anything?”

Velma sniffed. “Fine. Just some allergies. I’ll be out in a second.”

Allergies in February? I took another step toward her stall. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” she said impatiently. “I’ll be right out.”

I left the bathroom and returned to the front desk. Velma joined me a couple of minutes later. Her eyes were puffy and red. And she seemed to be avoiding my gaze more than usual. “I’m going to go check the carts,” she told me.

“I already did. They’re empty.”

Velma frowned. “Oh. Well, I got some studying to do.”

I watched her crack open her books and stare aimlessly at them. A few more tears dripped onto her pages while she silently cried. She had her fists on opposite sides of her face, trying to block my view, but it wasn’t working. I got up and crossed to the other side of the desk and hugged her before she could react.

Velma stiffened and then pulled away. “Stop. Please.”

I let go and sat on the counter next to her. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”

Velma wiped her eyes, which were redder than before. “I don’t need anybody’s help. I just want to be left alone.”

“Is this because I’m bi?” I asked.

“No!” Velma almost shouted at me. She rolled her eyes at me like I was the dumbest person on earth. “I know you can’t catch gay from somebody. Geez! Just because I talk with a southern drawl doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I didn’t hug you because I don’t want to lead you on.”

“Lead me...” I shook my head in anger, got off the counter, and took a step away from her. “Velma, I don’t like you like that. I don’t even like you as a friend. I can’t stand you.”

Velma made a small pout. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“You reported me to Marjorie for something I didn’t do.”

“You were looking at my butt.” She said it so matter-of-factly that it made me want to slap her. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll take the whole thing back. I’ll talk to Marjorie tomorrow. Go ahead. Tell me you weren’t.”

I opened my mouth to say I wasn’t, then stopped. “Ugh. Fine! I was looking at your butt. You do have a nice butt.”

“I know I do. But it’s mine, and you staring at it makes me uncomfortable. So keep your eyes off to yourself.”

“What is your problem?” I asked. “I’m trying to be nice to you. Obviously, you’re upset. God! Did your boyfriend dump you or something?”

Fresh tears welled in Velma’s eyes, and she looked away from me before they fell down her cheeks. “Shit,” I muttered. “He dumped you on Valentine’s Day?”

Velma shook her head. “He didn’t dump me. But one of my high school friends who still lives in our town said she saw him...”

“Going out with somebody else?”

“No! He was at Walmart. In the pharmacy aisle. Buying condoms.”

“So he’s a cheating asshole. You dump him.”

Velma sniffed and wiped her eyes. “When I was home from Christmas, he and I...” She blew her nose loudly. “We...”

“You guys had sex?” I asked quietly.

“No!” Velma protested. “You need to stop finishing my sentences because you have no idea what I’m going to say. I let him, you know, back there. He said it was okay, and it didn’t count. But what if it does?”

“I’m...” I took a deep breath. “I’m sure you’re fine. I don’t think it counts.”

Velma raised her eyebrow at me with deep skepticism. “Have you ever talked to a pastor about it? Have you even been inside a church?”

“Look, I’m sorry you got some bad news about your boyfriend. Is there anything I can do to help you without making you think I like you?”

Velma’s face twisted once more, and her hands clutched the hem of her sweater. “My grades. I’m struggling. I can’t keep up with softball work and school. I don’t think I’m going to make the pre-med track.”

“So get some study friends.”

“What?” she asked. “You won’t invite me to join your sex shop study group?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Velma!” I snapped. “You make it so hard to be nice to you.”

“What? Everybody knows that you all hook up with each other.”

My jaw dropped. How could anybody know we were doing that? We had all promised to keep our information and activities private. If Velma actually knew, somebody had blabbed. And whoever it was would be kicked out of the group.

“Well, good luck to you since you are so determined to reject all my help.”

I turned away from Velma but was stopped when she said, “Wait.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet drawl. “I haven’t been very nice to you. I was raised ... differently. I have strong beliefs. Beliefs I take very seriously. But I can still be ... nicer. I’ve had to play softball with lesbians for, like, ever. I can work in a library with you and be just fine. Right?”

I wasn’t sure if Velma meant that last part as a joke, but my reaction was the same as always. “I’m bi.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Okay,” I said. “Because I’m not a lesbian. It’s not the same thing.”

Velma rolled her eyes. “I know the difference. It doesn’t change the fact that you like women, which was my point. I can be fine around women who like women. I mean, I am fine around them.”

“Were you friends with any of your lesbian teammates?”

Velma paused before answering, “No. Not really.”

“Why not?”

Velma shrugged.

“Do you have any gay friends?”

“No.”

“Why do you want me to help you, Velma? You wouldn’t be comfortable in my study group. You seem to think you know what is happening behind the scenes, and everybody will feel like you’re judging us. So all that will do is create disharmony, and eventually, there will be problems.”

“Well...” Velma tapped her fingers on her notebook. “Well, maybe I can do some stuff. You know, but not like letting somebody into my special place?”

I looked at poor Velma for a long time, not knowing what to say. She thought she needed to fool around with the people in my study group in order to join—that poor dear girl.

“I just don’t know who else to go to for help. I want to become a doctor. Nobody in my hometown makes it out and becomes anything. So, you know, I’ve got to prove them all wrong.”

“Maybe you should form your own study group?” I suggested. “Pick some people that have more in common with you. You’d be more comfortable and successful if you did it that way.”

She sighed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

I didn’t speak to Velma for the rest of the shift. Perhaps her righteous anger or disappointment in my rejection of her request had replaced her sorrow because she didn’t cry or mope for the rest of the evening.

Wednesday, Fanny and I got together after classes, ate dinner consisting of breakfast cereal and toast, and then cracked open our books for a while to study. I did tell her about Velma’s request to join our group.

“Is she nuts?” Fanny asked. “Nobody would get along with her. Gretchen can’t stand her!”

We fell silent again for a time except to ask each other questions about the study material. Every ten minutes or so, Fanny took a short break from books to watch a show on her laptop. I couldn’t see the screen, and she was wearing headphones, so I had no idea what she was watching. After two hours of noses in the books, Fanny threw off her headphones.

“Fuck! I’m horny!” she moaned.

I pulled my chair around my circular dining table to see what she was watching. It was a girl with a penis fucking another girl. Of course, she was watching futanari porn. It was the same stuff she’d been looking at when I’d met her in the library and told her she couldn’t have it on her screen in public.

“This stuff actually turns you on?”

Fanny put her hand down her sweats and started to rub. “Mm-hmm. This one is called Bible Black. It’s a famous hentai.”

“Seems kinda creepy,” I said, watching a little bit of it. None of the characters looked very happy even though they were having sex.

“Yeah, it’s pretty dark,” Fanny groaned. “But so hot!”

I kept staring at the screen as the sex continued. Fanny continued to rub herself under her pants. Feeling a little frisky, I leaned into her and kissed her neck. Fanny inhaled sharply and tilted her head away, giving me better access to her soft, tender flesh. I planted kisses up to her ear, then stiffened my tongue and dragged it down to her shoulder. I wrapped my hands around her and the chair and slid them to her breasts. Then I kneaded her breasts and tweaked her nipples as she rubbed her clitoris as we watched the porn together.

“Do you wish that was you?” I whispered in her ear. “Do you want to be the woman getting fucked by another woman?”

“Oh yes...” Fanny whimpered. “It’s my favorite fantasy. A woman with a cock plowing into me. Taking me hard. I want it so much.”

“I have a strapless dildo,” I told her. “It looks like a cock.”

Fanny moaned. “I love you so much.” Then she turned and kissed me.

At first, hearing her say she loved me was a shock, and I almost pulled away from her. But then I realized what she meant was she loved me as a friend. I kissed her back. Her mouth opened wide, and her tongue practically forced its way into my mouth. Then she tackled me onto the floor.

We kissed for a long time before she pulled off me and said, “Show me this magical thing you have called a cock.”

I giggled devilishly and went to my little toy chest on the side of my couch bed. I didn’t have a huge collection, but enough that I needed a small space for them. I found the flesh-colored strapless dildo and brought it to Fanny.

She took it and examined it. “Me likey!”

“Do you want to try it?” I asked her. “I bought it for ... I bought it to try with somebody else and only got a chance to use it once.”

Fanny kissed me again; this time, there was no mistaking the passion behind her kiss. When Fanny had said she loved me, had she honestly been trying to tell me she had deep feelings for me?

If so, I wasn’t sure I felt the same. I liked her. I was attracted to her. But I hadn’t experienced the same spark I had with Marcy. Maybe I would in time.

Our tongues flicked against each other’s between our mouths. Fanny’s hands tangled in my hair, and she started grinding her hips against mine. I could feel her trying to get pressure on her clit through her leggings against my jeans, so I angled my hips to better help her. She moaned into my mouth as her humping motions became more frantic. Then she abandoned our kisses altogether, her mouth pressing into my shoulder as she drove herself toward climax.

I urged her on quietly, “Yes. Cum for me, baby.”

Fanny yelped and then screamed, and I was grateful she had muffled her voice with my body. She wasted no more time stripping me of my clothes and then peeling off her own. The sweet smell of sex and cum was strong when she removed her panties, which were a little wet now in the crotch. She picked up the dildo off the floor beside our tangled bodies. Eyes locked on mine, she sucked on the pony, the part that went inside me.

Once she’d finished, she handed it to me, and I adjusted both the angle of the pony and the shaft, then inserted the pony into myself. Fanny admired it for a moment before getting on all fours and baring herself to me. I took a moment to savor the sight of her beautiful flower, petals slightly spread, honey coating the edges.

“Do you want me to lube it first?” I asked.

“I’m ready. Don’t wait.”

I knelt behind her, clenched my vaginal muscles down on the pony, and aimed the tip of my shaft at her cunt. Then I slowly pushed inside her.

I was instantly taken back to the time I penetrated Marcy with this same toy. It was the only time I’d used it before today.

It was in my junior year of high school. Marcy and I had been dating for over a year, and I had been fantasizing about switching our roles. Ever since the first time we’d had sex, Marcy had been a giver and a top. She liked wearing a strap-on to fuck me, she liked making me cum, and her own pleasure was sometimes an afterthought, despite how much I wanted to give her orgasms. I enjoyed eating her pussy, fingering her, and anything else I could think of to get her off. But it had taken me a lot of time to get her comfortable allowing me to do that. I suspected her attitude had something to do with her relationship with Gina, but Marcy never spoke much about those days.

Marcy’s birthday was in December, and I wanted to surprise her with the toy as a gift. So, I had a very awkward yet liberating conversation with my mom, asking her to order the strapless dildo for me. At first, she just stared at me.

Then she finally said, “I’ll take things I never thought I’d hear from my daughter for 500, Alex.”

We browsed sex toy websites until I found one I liked. Then we compared prices until we found the best deal we could. “You think I should buy one too? Maybe I could use it on your dad.”

“Oh gross, Mom!” I said, giving her a good push. “I do not want to think about you and Dad having sex. Especially like that.”

“You think I want to think about you having sex either?” she retorted. “I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about you getting pregnant by Marcy.”

I smiled at her. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“No,” my mom said gently. “I love her like a daughter.”

When my toy arrived, my mom delivered it to me with a few other still-packaged copies of some of her favorite toys she thought I might enjoy. Along with the new toys, she gave me a small lockbox.

Then she warned me, “Please don’t tell your father about them. Please don’t leave them out. Keep everything secure so your younger sisters don’t find them.”

On the night of Marcy’s birthday, I went to her house and cooked dinner for her. Then I baked her a cake and celebrated with her moms and our small group of friends. When everybody else had left, we went upstairs. I asked her if I could blindfold her for a special surprise. I could tell that she was reluctant to say yes, but she did it for me.

I sat her on the bed, tied a red silk strip of cloth around her eyes, and then stripped off my clothing. After inserting the dildo into myself, I admired my reflection in the mirror. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be a boy and have a six-inch shaft bobbing around every time I got excited. I found Marcy’s bottle of lube and slowly coated the tip and upper shaft with a healthy dollop of lube. Then I returned to my lover and kissed her.

Marcy’s lips were tighter than usual, so I continued to kiss her until she relaxed. Then I unbuttoned her shirt to reveal her bra and her amazing tits. She allowed me to pull off her jeans and her panties. Once she was only in her bra and nothing else, I pushed her back on the bed and began giving her the same quality of oral attention she loved to give me.

As I already said, at this point in our relationship, Marcy still wasn’t accustomed to receiving, so it took some coaxing, but eventually, she relented. I poured every ounce of emotion I felt for her into my ministrations. I kissed her thighs, her lips, her perineum. I licked and nibbled and teased. I touched her everywhere except for her clit, because, despite my lack of experience, I had learned my beautiful Marcy needed clitoral stimulation to cum.

And I didn’t want her to cum yet. I wanted her to relax so she would do what I wanted tonight. The signs were there. Her squirms, her faint breaths of “oh...”, her hips subtly trying to adjust positions to put my face against her clit. But I deftly moved away each time. Once I knew she was ripe, I climbed onto the bed, spread her legs, and guided my dildo into her tunnel.

Marcy’s sigh of satisfaction was all I needed to hear. Learning to use my hips to fuck somebody like a man was a little more tricky than I realized. The cock wasn’t a natural part of me, so it took slow, deliberate thrusts to get the motion right. After three or four minutes of this, I started to feel more confident and had more control over the dildo.

I made love to her in the missionary position until she came with a delicious groan. I kissed her all over her face, neck, and breasts, basking in the glow of her orgasm. Then I pulled away a little and looked at her.

“Marcy,” I told her softly, then realized I wanted to say the words I had to say without her wearing a blindfold. I removed the cloth from her eyes. She blinked up at me. My beautiful, strong woman. My love. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“What?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I said, crying now and knowing the tears wouldn’t stop. “I just ... wanted you to know ... on your birthday.” I sniffed and took a deep breath. “I love you. And I’m in love with you. And I want to be with you forever.”

Marcy pulled me to her. “Can we do that again?” she asked me softly.

And we did.

Now I was rutting into Fanny from behind, holding onto her hips while using as much force as I dared lest the dildo slip out of me. Fanny reached between her legs and diddled herself, panting loudly and encouraging me to keep it up. The pony in my snatch provided some tantalizing stimulation but not enough to push me over the edge. I couldn’t get enough contact to my clit either, so I chose to focus solely on Fanny’s pleasure.

One nice thing about Fanny: it was never a secret when she climaxed. She made it known as noisily as she could. And she had a way of making my pussy melt with her sounds. But at that moment, all I could think about was Marcy and the night I told her I loved her.

As Fanny came on my cock, fresh tears filled my eyes, and I emotionally broke. I tried to hide it from Fanny by pushing through the pain, but the sobs racking my body threw off everything. Tears fell from my face onto her naked back. And soon, she stopped and turned around.

“I’m sorry!” I said. “I don’t—I don’t—” I couldn’t breathe. My heart was going to drum through my ribs. I couldn’t think. The world was collapsing in on me, and I was going to die. “I—I—I think I’m having a panic attack!”

Fanny wrapped me into a hug and held me tightly. “Shh...” she whispered to me while stroking my head. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

I was safe, yes. But what about Marcy? Was she okay? Fanny held me for a long time while I shook and cried, holding on for dear life mentally and emotionally. We stayed on the floor together for at least an hour. Fanny got me through it, and once I calmed down to the point that she felt it was safe to let me go, she made me a pot of tea.

I didn’t want to spoil the evening by telling Fanny what had triggered my emotional meltdown, so I made up the excuse that I was doing too much, overexerting myself, and needed to think about cutting some stuff out of my schedule. Fanny listened and made me feel loved. I couldn’t put into words how thankful I was for her at that moment.

Before leaving for the night, Fanny asked me at least ten times if I was sure I was okay. She even offered to sleep on the floor beside the bed if I didn’t want to be alone. I assured her I was okay. I thanked her at least ten times for showing me so much love and care. When I walked her to the door, she kissed me. It was not a cute little “I have a crush on you” kiss. It was a deep, longing, loving, soulful kiss. She wrapped me up and pulled me to her. And I let myself be drawn into it. I kissed her back. And it was so delicious.

When Fanny was gone, I started searching for the egg-like device Nicholas had given me to contact him. I tore apart my apartment and could not find it. I started calling out Nicholas’s name. “I want to help! Nicholas! I want to help!”

But nobody heard me. And nobody came.

Two weeks went by, and I still couldn’t find the device. I had torn apart and reassembled my apartment three times trying to locate it. I went to my parents’ house to see if I’d somehow left it there. My sister Opal and I went through everything. Once again, I found nothing. It was just gone. All I could do was hope Nicholas would come back to check on me because, thus far, all my attempts to contact him had amounted to little more than shouting into the void.

During those two weeks, I also tried to reach out to Marcy, only to find myself completely unable to do so. Three times in three days, I typed out texts to her only to delete them before sending them to her.

Me: Marcy, I know this is out of the blue, but I was thinking about you and worried and not sure why. Can we talk?

Me: Marcy, it’s been months, but I’ve been thinking we should meet. Is that okay?

Me: Marcy, I was thinking about you and had a full-blown panic attack. I think I need to get some closure or maybe just check in and talk. Can we meet? Please?

I couldn’t do it. Every time my thumb hovered over the send button, I saw her on the stairs in her house the night she cheated on me. Then, my heart rate picked up again.

The panic attack with Fanny made me realize I needed to focus more on myself. I didn’t change my schedule, but I made more of an effort to sleep more and eat healthier. Sure enough, I noticed an improvement in my mental well-being. Fanny and I grew closer after the experience, which meant she texted me even more than she did before because that was how my obsessive friend behaved. And though I sensed Fanny still wanted something more from me than friendship and sex, I wasn’t quite ready to offer my heart to her. She had to settle with being my best friend with benefits.

I was, however, ready to offer coffee to her. And everybody else in my study group. It was my turn to provide snacks and drinks for our Saturday morning study session. I slid the donuts across the table, and the box came to rest neatly in the middle. Both the ladies and the gentlemen fell on them like wolves tearing apart a rabbit.

“Good grief, people,” Gretchen protested, her face frozen in a grotesque grimace. “Act like you’ve eaten before.”

“Sorry,” Travis said through a mouthful of glaze, “Just got out of practice, and I’m starving.”

The donuts went fast. While everybody ate and drank, I reviewed our plan for the day and discussed upcoming exams and quizzes. Most of us were doing well because we’d all worked hard to stay up on the material and prep for these sessions.

Thus, as usual, our session went smoothly. We had fun, but we stayed focused. The promise of an orgy had a strange, binding effect on us. And as far as we could tell, we were all on track to make it to the promised party of pleasure.

I did have one item of business to bring up to the group, even though I knew what the outcome would be.

“So, before we start, I need to address one thing. Somebody asked me if they could join our group. And made me promise I would ask you all. It’s ... Well, it’s Velma.”

“No way!” Gretchen said instantly. “That bitch hates me.”

“Wait...” Travis said. “Velma, Velma? As in, the hottest girl on the softball team?”

“She’s not that hot,” Danny said.

“Dude,” Travis countered. “She’s so fucking hot.”

“She is hot,” Phillip agreed. “I’ve heard she lets dudes fuck her in the ass.”

“What?” Travis said. “Where did you hear that?”

“Rosemary told me,” Phillip said. “They’re both like Christian or whatever. And Rosemary said Velma told her it’s okay to have anal sex but not regular.”

“Anyway...” I said loudly to break up the sudden burst of gossip around the table. “Her sex life isn’t our business. We need to discuss—”

“No way in hell is she joining us,” Gretchen said. As the tiny, cute blonde of the group, she usually had this fairy-like quality about her, but now her features were distorted in anger, and she looked a little scary. “Also, if she’s having anal sex, she is a fucking hypocrite! She gave me the most withering glare when she overheard me talking about having sex with Freddy Dinmore last semester. And when I asked her what her problem was, she said, ‘Try reading the Bible, whore.’ Those were her exact words.”

“Well...?” Travis asked dramatically. “Did you read the Bible?”

Even Gretchen laughed at the question. I could tell which way public opinion was trending, but I had promised Velma earlier this week I would ask. I had to make good on my promise.

“So, does anybody think it would be okay?”

Nobody raised a hand.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah said, “I don’t mind Velma personally, but if Gretchen and others would be uncomfortable, then it’s probably best to decline. Our group dynamic is a little different than other groups. None of us needs somebody here who will make us feel guilty about our lifestyle or choices.”

“She is hot, though,” Travis concluded.

It went exactly as I had predicted it would. We moved forward with our study session, which lasted almost four hours. Midterms were approaching, and we wanted to ensure everybody was ready and grasped the material well. As we packed our stuff, I glanced at Travis’s bag. Inside was his laptop, headphones, and a couple of books, and nestled down in a corner, I barely caught a glimpse of a small whitish-colored egg-like device with shining gold markings.

“My egg!” I said. “Where did you find it?”

Travis looked at me strangely. “Egg? What egg?”

“In your bag. That white egg-looking thing with the gold markings. Where did you find it?”

Travis surveyed me and then looked at the others in our group. He closed his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. Grinning, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

I grabbed the edge of his bag. “The egg in your bag. It’s mine. I need it. I need it back.”