Am I the Asshole?
Copyright© 2025 by RickSands
Chapter 36
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 36 - A young man looks back at his life and lusts. Considering each of the girls and women he's known, he smiles as memories come to mind, relishing the connection and ecstasy that came with each conquest and every ounce of semen he poured between their legs. And so as his past relationships are recounted to himself and the reader, he only slowly comes to realize that maybe he really is the problem after all. Codes will be added as the story progresses.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa ft/ft Teenagers Coercion Consensual Reluctant Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Brother Father Aunt Light Bond Gang Bang Oriental Female Hispanic Female Indian Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Oral Sex Water Sports Teacher/Student
Dating Sherri became my preoccupation. I worked, I studied, I was a good son and friend to many, but if Sherri wasn’t by my side, then she was in my thoughts.
No. Worse than that. I was always thinking of what we’d done the last time she was with me. That or I was thinking of how and when we’d see each other again. My life came to revolve around Sherri, but not always in the cute romantic way rom-com movies make such obsessions out to be.
Was I aware that I was chasing fool’s gold, a mirage created by my own simple minded stupidity? Yeah, I knew, but she’d become an obsession.
Absolutely an obsession. Every Wednesday. I lived for that morning connection with the girl, picking her up at 8:30 and not letting her out of my sight until she insisted on being dropped off at her work about one. Sometimes she’d let me pick her up after school, even if only for a quick snack, and sometimes Friday but rarely for us to be together long enough for anything more than a fast fuck and shower before a movie. Never for the weekend. All of Saturday morning was needed by her to shower and prep for work, even when she claimed to do nothing but inventory and sign off on warehouse deliveries. She said I was a guy and wouldn’t understand. She was right, but I put up with it.
So never a full night with the girl but for once. I badgered Sherri into convincing her parents that a girlfriend had invited her for a sleepover. An old but long-tested means for a boy to gain complete access to everything a girl had to offer him. One long night, the two of us never really sleeping, and I can say that when I dropped Sherri off at school the next day I was in more anguish than ever. It’s hard to have known the wonders of a girl like Sherri only to be told never again. I wanted it every day, and she just smiled and kissed me and told me to live in the present.
One thing that bugged me was that she was seventeen, about to graduate from high school, and yet she’d never allowed me to meet her parents. Her explanation both galled me and made me more frustrated than ever.
“No way my parents can even think I’m seeing a guy,” she’d said, refusing my offer to buy the entire family dinner at a nice restaurant. “They don’t even like the idea of me working outside of school, but they know Mr. Okada personally.”
“But why?” I asked, thinking it wrong if not unconstitutional for a girl in the US to not date.
“For one,” Sherri said, exasperated with my demand, “They’re like religious zealots. Think of Catholicism meets Puritanism. They’ve put up with me not following their beliefs, but no way can I be seen dating a guy, especially a man with a car and apartment of his own.
“Mostly the fault of one of those high school idiots I told you about. One liked me so much that he talked his way into our house while my parents were gone and wouldn’t leave. Lived in my bedroom for two nights. I thought it was kind of romantic and a little bit nasty to be having sex all night with my parents in the next room. Then my mother woke me up one morning asking who the young man making breakfast was. Threw him out and forbade me from ever dating again. Realized later that the guy was really just a selfish creep who wanted to claim me as his. Even bragged to the school about what he’d done. Total jerk.”
I had to hold my tongue, thinking that maybe the kid had the right idea. Fill Sherri with cum thrice nightly, get her pregnant, declare absolute love for Sherri before her parents and all the rest of the world, and insist on an immediate wedding. Of course I didn’t say this to Sherri. I just nodded and let her continue.
“The last straw was when Glen and Roy started dating me. Tried to hide it from my parents but those two were pretty insistent about seeing me more than just every other weekend. It’s one thing to come home late for dinner on a school night, but to go missing every Saturday and again on Sunday made them real suspicious. Then they saw Glen drop me off down the street and I got locked in the house for a week. My father even drove me to and picked me up from school. It’s been like that ever since. They have to trust me some, like for work and everything, but no way can I show up with a guy on my arm, especially one as handsome and hot as you.”
Sherri was playing me, placating me, patronizing me, and I knew it. But I was too taken with her and too much of a coward to push too hard and too deep unless it was with my cock and hips into her open legs. Too much she didn’t want to talk about, but we did and said and fucked enough for me to push my doubts aside.
We did plenty, other than sex I mean. Out for the occasional meal, sometimes for just a walk to enjoy the coming blossoms, and even to that silly art museum that had all of one Picasso in its collection. We held hands, joked and talked, and yet every time I dropped Sherri off at work or near (never in front of) her home, I always felt like a chasm remained between us.
We never did have a normal relationship. From the beginning Sherri had been everything from antagonistic to sulking to demanding. Sex always, but she often threw it in my face, almost sneering at my desire for her, so it never seemed to fix or improve whatever kind of a relationship we had.
If anything, after a long bout of sex in which we did things to the other that were admitted to only in our shared smiles and eyes, Sherri would tant and tease and wonder what more I might want from her. On days when our nakedness had to be hidden by clothing and public manners, she would still joke about what she had but couldn’t allow me to taste. And then, every week or two, Sherri would turn into a demon, snarling in her comments, accusing me of being just another man with a full set of balls and in need of nothing more than her voracious cunt to suck them dry.
Rational discourse, loving kisses and bad poetry only led her to making snide comments and rolling out of bed with a demand for me to drive her to work or home. She’d later apologize, but it never ended. And never did she snuggle in close and tell me that she loved me and loved that I loved her.
Yeah, said that a couple of times, telling Sherri that I was in love with her. The first time was in bed one Wednesday morning. Explained that with her soon to graduate from high school, she could move in with me. She reacted by telling me I was stupid, that I had no idea of who she was, that she was already accepted to a university that was out of my league, and for other reasons she really didn’t want to get into.
That hurt, but then she told me to take her to the river for a walk. Only rule was no talking. So we walked, held hands, and simply enjoyed the other’s silence. I didn’t mind, but I could tell something was bugging Sherri.
The second time happened to be a Friday, keeping her out late and against her parents’ wishes. We’d seen a movie, then held hands, and back at the car I told Sherri I loved her and couldn’t live without her.
For a second there was the briefest glimmer of joy in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with belligerence. She again said that I was putting a hell of a lot of pressure on her, then argued that I hardly knew her, and only then decided that I was sweet but dumb and needed to take a step back.
The great unraveling and my giving up on love, life, happiness, and Sherri, came about because I wanted to do ever more for Sherri and forever be at her side. A sick romantic concept that has only done men harm.
I’d been dropping Sherri off at work on Wednesday afternoons. She was nice enough to cut classes on Wednesday to spend the mornings in my bed, but every other Wednesday afternoon she’d claim the need to go to work. Happy to drop her off but sad to see her get out of my car and walk away.
I wasn’t allowed to enter the arts store and hang out with her at work because she was sure someone would report my presence up the line and Mr. Okada, the big boss, would say something to her parents. I didn’t care but she made me promise, so on those Wednesdays she did work in town, I still couldn’t see her.
That’s when I began accosting Sherri at a bus stop she used most Saturdays and Sundays on her way to the warehouses. With her time schedule in mind, I waited two different weekends for her to show up. The second Saturday I saw her get off a local bus and stand waiting for the one that would take her out to the edge of town.
I walked up and surprised her, but she wasn’t exactly overjoyed to see me. I had to talk her into accepting my proffered ride. She was quiet and subdued, almost embarrassed at my effort, and when I dropped her off at that same warehouse towards ten in the morning, she leaned back and away from my kiss. Her insistence that I not bother with such silly romantic gestures almost led me to letting the bitch ride the damn bus, but I went the other way.
The next Saturday I waited with her favorite tea and snack, waiting with a rose in hand, and willing to ignore her comments about me just trying to get another blowjob out of her.
Bitch, but I persisted, too stupid to feel the heat while focused on the pretty flames surrounding me.
She always had a small purse but a good sized tote bag with her. Just a sweater and textbook and lunch, so she said. When I approached her, she made the mistake of allowing me to help her carry the bag from the bus stop to my car. I noticed that folded into the bottom was the sheen of green satin, just like something she had worn for me that one time I got her to stay the night at my apartment. Putting my hand into the bag to move items around, I also found two pairs of lace panties and a small bottle of perfume.
More than anything I wanted to ignore it. At heart I’m a coward about stuff like that. I’d found early on in life that I could easily rise to anger and explode when faced with unfair treatment, be it an unfair charge for my cell phone or someone borrowing my car and not returning it with gas. But when it came to girls, to the part of life I most yearned for, I was a coward. Not this time.
Once in the car, I pulled the green satin teddy out of the tote. Words were unnecessary. She knew what I was asking. Her face changed from neutral to frightened to absolute stone. And all she had in the way of a reply was, “Drive. I’ll show you.”
Of course on the way to the warehouse I was burning with rage while Sherri acted cool. Twice I turned and started to ask a question, fighting back a screaming rage, and all Sherri did is lift up the edge of her already short skirt.
“Like what you see, Louis? Be nice. Little pussy here has all the explanation you need. I’ll show you.”
She even took off her bra, there in the car, dropping her light sweater and opening her blouse, essentially easing my anger with those things most responsible for starting wars and calming soldiers. I knew what Sherri was doing, and she was smiling like a cat, or as she put it later like a fox. Such a foxy little girl, and I had no power over her at all.
Somehow made it to the warehouse without crashing into another car. Sherri got out with me following, but then she turned, handed me her purse and tote, and inexplicably and most slowly and sexily removed her panties. Nice ones, all lace.
“I’ll leave those with you,” she said without the faintest trace of a smile. “No sense in wearing them, really. Not here. Come on. I’ll show you.”
Into the warehouse through a side door, down an aisle of stuff, then more aisles of stuff, and on to the far back corner. That’s where everything changed. A good portion of that corner of the warehouse had been walled in, and upon entering through a locked door I found myself somewhere in Japan. I don’t know anything about Japan, but if someone were to make up a tea house and sand and water garden and all the rest according to traditional Japanese tastes, this would have been it.
I was transported to some extreme stereotype of what a Japanese home and garden would look like. All except one back two-story portion that looked just like a standard office with desks and computers. I was momentarily mesmerized, but upon seeing the office setting I remembered why I was even there. The reality of what I’d discovered in Sherri’s bag finally hit me, and instead of lashing out with a fist, I turned to her and found myself holding back tears.
She wasn’t kind.
“This is where Mr. Okada works over the weekend. Or at least where he tries to get work done. All done in a traditional Japanese style. Beautiful, right? Even the water garden. He spent a lot of money building this, putting together the most serene office setting in the city.
“See that,” Sherri said, pointing to a long paper scroll in a case hanging on the wall by some mats and pots of bamboo. Not hanging down from top to bottom, but actually displayed from side to side, almost the length of that part of the wall.
“He says that scroll is from before the Meiji period, like over a hundred years ago. Supposed to have been written by a master calligrapher and is worth as much as all the rest of the modern-day retail crap he’s got in the warehouse. Ironic that he hardly knows what it says. He’s the son of a Japanese couple who were themselves born in the US but met while interned up in the mountains after Pearl Harbor. He doesn’t speak much Japanese either, but he’s really hung up on the culture. Tea, koto music, martial arts, you name it, but he still prefers steak and potatoes over raw fish and rice.”
The art piece seemed boring to me, nothing but a thousand black lines that must have been Japanese words with only some lighter pictures of trees or bamboo in the background and a few red marks at the end. I looked around, and while any other time I would have been in awe, just then all I felt was bile building in my stomach.
“And what does this have to do with you bringing a satin teddy to work? I’m assuming you work upstairs, at one of the desks. Fine, you do data input and check on merchandise. But what’s with the teddy and panties and perfume?”
“Really? You have to ask?” she threw at me as though I was an idiot. “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” and Sherri walked over to an enclosed area that made up a portion of the larger faux-Japanese home. I couldn’t sit so I paced, like an animal knowing it’s about to be slaughtered but has no means to escape its fate.
Sherri soon returned, and I was stunned into silence.
She’d changed clothing. Not into the teddy, something a dark evil part of my brain was taunting me with, but into a thing I later learned was called a corset. Pale pink, with intricate designs, rising from her hips and midriff at the bottom up to her breasts. Just her middle, leaving all the rest of Sherri nude, her beautiful body, her thickly furred crotch and upper tits and ass included, all uncovered and yet accented by the odd bit of clothing.
Through my blurred vision I was able to make out a choker around her neck and net stockings that were somehow attached to the bottom of the corset with clips. But all the rest of her was bare. She was sexy as any girl I’d seen, live or online. My cock would have sprung up hard and ready but my head was all too aware of what she was about to admit.
“Like it?” Sherri teased, acid seeming to drip from her mouth, doing a shake of her tits then doing a quick turn. “Sorry if I haven’t worn anything like this for you, but its kind of wired into my brain to only have this on for Mr. Okada. Sometimes panties, but he really does like watching me walk around with my crotch hanging out like this. Kind of why I do it for you, Louis. You know, to give you and your friends a little thrill. I mean, why waste it all on some old Japanese guy?”
My anger subsided, my fear of striking out at Sherri eased, and I finally found the strength to look at Sherri. The hurt I felt was enormous, but all I could find the strength to do is reach out and touch her hand. The uncaring distain she had been wearing while seemingly reveling in showing me her true self momentarily disappeared and Sherri actually squeezed my fingers. For just a second her eyes seemed to hold just as much hurt as what I was feeling. Then she swallowed and looked down at the floor and to the side before explaining it in a way only I could understand.
“Every week he flies up here, sometimes twice, maybe overnight. This place is Mr. Okada’s escape, where he can forget his wife and outside life. Sure, some work, but also video games and a small pop-up movie theatre and stuff. Very quiet and peaceful on Saturdays and Sundays and odd week day. Everyone has orders to stay away on Saturdays in particular, leaving just us two alone.
“How? Well, you know what a slut I am. You’ve said so yourself, Louis. Can’t live without a cock inside me, like twenty-four seven. Not quite, but of course that’s what got me into this.
“At first it was like any other job. Parents really did know Mr. Okada. Dad works at the accounting firm he uses. By pure chance my dad had hung some piece of framed artwork in his office that happened to include old Japanese postage stamps. Mr. Okada loved it, being a collector himself, and when my dad gave it to him as a gift Mr. Okada dropped by the house with a return gift. Weird chance. They got together a couple of times that spring, and when summer arrived, he offered me a part-time position at the store.
“Just simple back room work at the downtown shop on afternoons during summer vacation. Mostly dull stuff, organizing and cleaning up while other more skilled employees took care of the real work up front. Parents seemed real happy that I was making my own money and not on some street-corner selling myself.
“Thing is, Mr. Okada was just entering his fifties, meaning his wife was in her forties and had little time for what older mean still desire from life. It was a running joke that girls in the shop had to be careful around him. They put up with it because he never went that far. Felt their ass, maybe a touch of their breasts, a comment or two, and then he’d move on. Girls always and everywhere have to put up with that kind of shit. He was no different from any other guy with power over the paycheck. Then I came into the picture.
“He’d already made an attempt at feeling me up. Crude and I could pretend it didn’t happen. But on just the second week of my being there. I was in the back doing an inventory of different types of paper when he walked up and put an arm around my middle. I did what girls normally do, turning to the side and putting a hand out to push him away while saying ‘No,’ but my hand was low and I found my fingers wrapping around his cock. Not even hidden under his pants. It was right there, as though he’d thought it all out beforehand. Didn’t help that instead of screaming like any normal girl would, I kept my hand there, too shocked to move, my fingers feeling out his shaft. Only for a second, but that was long enough for him to wrap his hand around mine and keep me from moving away.
“I just froze where I was standing, trying not to do anything which is exactly what the old guy wanted me to do. His hand held mine against his shaft while he bent down to kiss my neck. I turned away, putting my back to him, but its just like you warned us girls about at Terri’s. Never turn your back or the guy behind you will have easy access to everything. Took him less than a minute to have his cock up and under my dress, and even less than that before he knew what a wet slut he had under him.
“Amazing that he didn’t fuck me. You know, like leaning me over the table and pumping himself into me for two minutes like any high school guy would. He just held me, a hand up to my chest while his fingers found their way into my crotch. He was so slow and gentle as he pushed under my panties and into me. Groaned out something like, “Oh, so juicy,” when he entered me. So juicy.
“Sure, I groaned, started doing my little dance as he went deeper. It was weird, him holding me close and whispering about how he thought I was a beautiful goddess, fingers moving in all the right ways and places, and his dick moving deep but very slow. I think it’s the slowest most gentle sex I’ve ever had in my life. And all the time this was going on I just stood there, my hands on his, my body shivering and contracting like I always do...
“We were like that for maybe ten minutes, leaning against the table but otherwise standing, holding one another, and all while his cock was moving in and out of me.
“It was a real surprise to me to feel my own orgasm. I mean, it was so unique and nasty, fucking the boss in the back of the store, but he was so nice and caring about it. It came on me so suddenly I almost passed out, and I was still coming down from the climax when he finally leaned me over, like face onto the table, and started up the real fuck. Standard, you know, pounding his crotch into my ass for a couple of minutes before letting out a groan.
“Just ten minutes total, maybe another minute crushed on top of the table while he finished up inside of me. Then he stood and moved my panties back into place and he said something he likes to say, like every Saturday we’re together. He bit my ear, and cupped my crotch and said I was a fox spirit that had captured him. A fox spirit, kind of like foxy or hot looking but also like I’d bewitched him. He’s said that a lot since then, me being a fox spirit.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.