Chapter 9

I don’t know how to explain myself, but then again, there’s no need. I’m writing this for myself, and I know what I was doing. Problem was, I was kind of a mess at the time and didn’t fully understand myself. I kind of knew, sort of trusted myself, but I was still a mess as I acted it all out.

Steve had a quality about him that absolutely attracted me, but my distrusting side also knew he was just the type who would hurt me in the end. He wasn’t smoothed like Treyvon, with all the bullshit and fake words and easy ways. Steve was just easy to be with and very uncomplicated. I don’t think he meant to hurt anybody, but he didn’t do anything to prevent the hurt either. I knew that, but I bit my lip and pretended blindness every time he opened his bedroom door. And that water bed of his was pretty unique. The perfect spider web for a girl like me.

So why Jose? Because he just happened to touch my heart in a way no man ever had. So bizarre, meeting both Steve and Jose on the same day and getting fucked by them in the same hour. Steve was smooth but Jose was real. I can put it best by saying I enjoyed fucking Steve but didn’t want kiss him, like lips on lips and eyes connecting and hearts melting. None of that. It was all physical release with him and me.

Then there was Jose. Shorter than Steve, a bit stocky, but sexy in a rough kind of way. And his cock was perfect. A bit thick, a bit short, but a perfect fit for pounding into me, my legs forced wide, filling me fully without the painful depth of longer dicks. And of course there was that weird ability of Jose to cum for minutes at a time, flooding my pussy with his goodness and then staying hard and throbbing for another few minutes, his balls oozing out another ounce or two of semen while giving my twat the feel of an internal massage. It was pretty amazing, every single time.

Steve fucked me raw but Jose and I made love, even when the sex went a little too far, and eventually, much to my terror, I knew I was falling in love with him. I kissed him, sucked on his tongue, loved the taste of his cum, and more than anything loved the feel of the man flooding my twat with his semen. I loved the connection, the bonding, his voice, his touch. I had finally found my man.

Great, but love and thereby Jose totally terrified me. Steve I could handle. I bit my lip, opened my legs, and enjoyed the sex. With Steve it was nothing but sex and all about the sex. Slap my ass, fuck my twat, blow a load inside of me, suck my tits, repeat. Same with Jose for the first month or two, but then we stopped circling each other and began connecting and developing a lifelong relationship. I slowly got tired of the fucking Steve considered his right and duty. With Jose there was romance and a connection I’d never thought possible.

Sound romantic? For other girls, maybe. For me it was terrifying, like something I just couldn’t do. My distrust, my cynicism, just wouldn’t allow that, and for every loving moment I spent in Jose’s arms I ran over to spend an hour impaled on Steve’s insatiable cock. It was stupid and selfish of me, leading to feelings of hurt and betrayal that affected both of us, but that’s the way it was. Damn.

That Sunday, just two days after both men had literally filled me to overflowing, I returned and found that Jose could indeed whip up a really good pot of hot and sour soup. Vege style, with tofu and bamboo sprouts and just the right mix of contrasting tastes. Better than my father’s, something I’ll never admit to anywhere else.

Good sourdough as well, but the guys in question had totally changed demeanor. While on Friday I had been a shared sexual treat for both to share, now I was a sexual conquest for each to control. I could feel the tension between the two, each wanting to bring me soup or talk with me about my day or sit next to me or whatever. The atmosphere was strained and I almost ran for home.

Then my head bent sideways and decided to take control. Two men living together, both wanting a piece of me. Kind of like what I’d left when Kevin and Treyvon had waged war over and inside of my body. Not necessarily a bad thing.

I didn’t come right out and say it, but I refereed the two warring parties, letting them know that neither had bragging or fucking rights over my body. Steve had told me that he spent most afternoons on his computer at home, and right there in front of Jose I made a date for Steve to show me his work after my half-day of class on Wednesday.

Steve wanted to do some show and tell right then, but with him looking on, I complemented Jose’s on his soup, told Steve that maybe he should be in charge of clean-up, and then pulled Jose toward his bedroom. Steve would have been fun, but I was also making sure Jose saw himself as a serious contender for my attention. I liked the idea of again having two men interested in me. And somewhere in there my heart did give a bit of a flutter when thinking about Jose. I was very interested in how he could kiss, touch, talk, and love me. Alone, over the period of hours, and at least for the short term, without the use of a beer bottle up my snatch.

Three hours later, Jose and I were still snuggling and talking. He would whisper and kiss and I would reply and kiss some more. His tongue had been all over my body, loving and licking me, and though he was always most sweet when my cum covered his tongue, I never tired of hearing Jose discuss life or family or me.

A side note about that weird aspect of Jose’s orgasms. Like any guy who likes to fuck and cum inside a girl, but that afternoon I got to experience that throbbing again, his flooding of my twat with his juices being followed by minutes of his still hard cock massaging my insides. Unique is hardly the word. I loved it but wanted to understand it.

Got the man hard again in only ten minutes and it didn’t take much for my mouth to bring Jose to a second cuming. His jizz was thick and viscous, his balls tightening with the effort of pouring that intimate and nasty part of himself into me. Standard stuff. But after a few jets of cum, his balls kept pumping it out, his cock hard and throbbing as a very slow stream of semen continued to fill my mouth. That went on for almost five minutes, Jose moaning all that time, his lips kissing my thighs, his hands massaging my tits and ass, the guy enjoying a five minute orgasm when every other guy I’d ever been with had been limited to mere seconds, a minute tops.

Talked with Jose about it and he just took it as normal. He was clueless about how special that physical part of him was. Let me tell you that over the following months, I took full advantage. Even on the rare occasion I didn’t get off with Jose pumping his dick into me, the feel of his manhood throbbing like a live animal inside of my loins would bring me to a wonderful finish. I’ve never known another guy who could ever approach what Jose naturally brought to bed. The only thing that’s come close has been what a dog could do, giving a hard fast fuck and then holding a woman down while its boner slowly fills her with his doggie cum. Didn’t know that then. Just knew that Jose was special in all ways, physically and emotionally.

When I left that night, I knew I was going to have a different relationship with Jose than with Steve. Yeah, plenty of sex. Both, at least at first, were all about the sex. But when it came to Jose, the feel of his thick cock massaging my twat couldn’t be separated from the sweet sound of his voice. Steve fucked me but Jose, maybe even in those first weeks of getting to know him, made love to me. From the first time I saw him to the last time we parted, I knew he was special.

Fine. Knew Jose was special and just my kind of lover. So why on Wednesday did I literally run into Steve’s arms? Hardly said a word to him as he pulled off my clothing and threw me onto his bed. There was nothing sweet about it. For Steve it was all about the fuck. A fast fuck and cum, then a variety of positions, fucking me for fun, slapping my ass, filling all of my holes, and then another blast of cum, my legs waving in ecstasy as my shrill cries of release filled the house. It was good sex.

And with a bit of embarrassment I found myself going back on Friday to spend the night in Jose’s loving embrace. Made up lies to my folks about staying with Alice and enjoyed a quiet lust-filled weekend with the man. Nice and slow and loving. It was loving sex with a caring man, giving me a sense of personal safety and physical fulfillment no other single man had or has ever approached. And yet within days my head was filled with thoughts of Steve, my twat dripping in anticipation of what evil he could do with me.

This is when it would be more than fair to call me a sex-loving slut. Sex loving in that Steve’s physical prowess filled dark parts of my physical and mental self. But I’ve got to throw in the term selfish here. I knew I was hurting Jose with every ounce of semen Steve blew into me, but I just couldn’t help it. Even more than a slut I was being a selfish bitch.

Steve was a fucking machine. He liked me because of some kink in his head, maybe something about Asian girls, but maybe I lusted for him in some similar way. Thing is, I was happy with an hour or three in bed with the man. Then I was done, happy for the week and ready to melt into Jose’s arms. Steve wanted to chain me to the wall and fuck me on a regular basis, for hours on end, morning and night. I could see it in his eyes, from the time I walked in the door to the moment I escaped from the house. The man was always thinking of how he could fuck me more and longer and deeper, and I loved it.

Which made me a slut? Yeah. Fair. I’m sure everybody thought so, Raphie and Jose and Diane included. Diane? Gee, who was she? Oh, I remember. She was Steve’s girlfriend, the one Jose hinted about but left for me to find out on my own.

Yeah. Girlfriend, though she acted a lot like his fiancé, meaning total ownership but with an attitude. Real boujie in some ways, tall and white and thin, always with low waist belts and high thin tops, showing her navel while pretending she had a chest. Am I sounding as though I was jealous or bitchy? Absolutely, but I was smiling every time the woman walked in and made for Steve’s room.

Call me warped or in need of therapy or whatever, but I felt good about Steve being tied down. I got all the best of him maybe twice a week, and at least two or three loads every time we pulled each other’s clothes off, so I had a twat full of the man’s DNA every time she walked past. She might have owned him, and maybe he owned a piece of her, but however many gallons the man pumped into me over that spring and summer, I was free to walk at will.

Woman thought I was some piece of yellow trash Jose picked up off the street. The only one hurt here was Jose, having to pretend I was only his to love and hold. Jose saw the games, had to put up with my antics, and was forced to swallow his pride every time Steve and I got so wild the house shook.

I still think that if Steve weren’t around, I would have been frightened of Jose. He came to care for me too much and though my heart wanted to respond in kind, no way could my mind handle that kind of emotional weight. Steve kept me from treating Jose seriously, which meant I felt safe and free but wound up treating Jose like shit. I loved Jose, fucked him, let the man fuck me with a beer bottle and swallow his cum fresh from being delivered into my pussy, but I just couldn’t promise myself to Jose as his one and only. His need for total surrender frightened me but my refusal, and especially me retreating into Steve’s bedroom, really hurt Jose.

Going into the summer, the stress on me was huge. Lying to Alice about doing stuff with my family, lying to my family about doing stuff with Alice, and all the time wasting away in a house full of horny men. I kind of felt for Raphy, ignored and on the sidelines and yet caught up in the huge mess that really was my fault. By the end of summer it got so bad that Steve and Jose could hardly talk with one another. The problem with Steve was that he didn’t give a shit as long as Diane didn’t call him for pushing her dildo up my twat while reaming my ass. Jose grew tense and ready to pull a serrated bread knife across Steve’s throat. Then I made it worse.

In the beginning, the month or so before and then going into June was fine. Went to school, fucked Steve, was made love to by Jose, and even found time to go to a movie or shopping with Alice. Life was more than just a little good. Every girl I knew, Alice included, dreamed of meeting a guy who could eat bush, screw her for an hour, deliver three orgasms, and get her home before curfew. I had all of that in double doses of semen, except for the curfew part. My parents had given up on me and were amazed when I ended the school year with all As and Bs.

Then my mother put her foot down and insisted I help with family expenses. She had a work slot set up for me, working from ten to two every week-day doing basic grunt work chores at an office cafeteria some friend had a contract for. I was old enough to do the work without much supervision or coming under child labor laws. No more excuses. Time to pull my weight (about a hundred fifteen, but only five foot one).

I hated the idea. Jose thought it would do me some good, maybe teach me some work ethics, and hopefully keep me from spending all of my free time rolling around on Steve’s waterbed. My two main men came up with different moneymaking schemes to keep me close and my mother happy. You can guess which one I went with.

Jose brought up the possibility of working at his bakery, doing counter work and selling baked goods during the morning rush of seven to ten, six days a week. Part time, minimum wage, and all the day-old pastries I could haul home. That would have been fine if not for 1) the early hours and 2) me getting off work just in time for my mother to drag me to that cafeteria job.

I was going to lie about my hours and simply spend more time with Jose in the rear of the bakery, helping him make bread rise so to speak. I was getting comfortable with Jose, and maybe a little less enamored with how Steve thought of me as his sex toy, so more time in Jose’s arms seemed a desirable option. But of course Steve had a plan of his own, with more pay and benefits that far outshone free doughnuts.

A friend of Steve’s, via Diane it turned out, had a photography studio. The woman (Clara, not Diane) needed someone at the front counter, just to answer enquires and keep stuff organized. No experience necessary. I’d actually met Clara when she and Diane had dropped by one day. It was just a week into June, the weather was warm, and I was dressed in nothing but panties and one of Jose’s shirts. Since I was seen as just one of Jose’s sluts they largely ignored me.

Something must have clicked in Clara’s head because just a day after I opened up to Steve about needing to work, Clara called me direct with a deal. Four hours a day, three to maybe five days a week, and right in the middle of the day. Best of all, pay was almost double what my mother’s job offered. I’d even get a bonus for showing up that first day, something I didn’t tell my mother about.

I started the week after school let out, Alice visiting my second day just to see what I was up to. Clara gave me permission to order pizza so I was able to buy Alice lunch and act like a real working girl. It was great. And then Clara upped her offer, then sweetening the deal every day, pulling me deeper, until I found myself trapped and drowning without even knowing I was under water.

You must know what I’d gotten myself into. Steve knew, even laughed at me a month later when I brought up misgivings. He laughed, told me I was perfect for the job, and encouraged me to explore myself. I did, but without telling Jose the deep details, and certainly never letting on to Alice. I went down and deep and got lost until everything exploded in my face. Worst thing was losing Jose. Telling Steve to fuck off and sticking a knife into his water bed before walking out was something I should have done a month earlier, but too late by then. I lost Jose. I hated him for leaving me in my most vulnerable moment, but I also couldn’t blame him. My fault. I lost Jose.

So, what the fuck am I talking about? Just a front counter job with minimal responsibilities, right? So I thought, and so I let on to Alice and my mother. My paycheck never changed but the responsibilities did, as did the cash flowing under the table and into my purse. I don’t want to get into all the details, but I need to confront it, to face myself.