Chapter 9: Tequila Sunrise

It took all night to figure it out. As the sun rose on my 19th birthday, Sara and I were on our way to London. Each step down the plane’s aisle during boarding eased the unbearable tension in my gut. I slung my canvas bag to the floor and tried to forget the screaming voices rattling off who to marry, how to behave, and how to run the company. Blah blah blah. Noise. As the jet rattled at takeoff, a tremendous sigh soared from my pursed lips. Freedom!

We arrived at Heathrow at 11 pm the next night and made a beeline for the boutique hotel we booked at the very last moment. I flashed a tired grin when I opened the door to our penthouse suite. My tennis shoes squeaked across the black marble floor, down the hall to the bedroom. I flung my bag over my shoulder and jumped on the lush, 4-post, king-sized bed. With a guttural OOF, the wind got knocked from me as the down feathered blankets consumed my body. Heaven!

“I see you’re feeling less stressed already,” Sara laughed. She sauntered beside me and rolled next to me. “I’ve missed you, Candy Girl.”

I turned to her, smiling. Sara played with the zipper of her high-cropped leather jacket and slowly peeled it off. Only a thin, maroon sports bra covered her large, tan breasts. I ogled her delicious, flat torso, glossed with aloe. My eyes trailed along the bold, dark lines of her latest tattoo. A scally water dragon danced across one end of her tight abs to another.

I watched the faint trace of her ribcage rise and fall with the calm, seductive rhythm of her breathing. A Cheshire-sized grin was etched on my face as I wrapped my hands around the warm skin of her hips.

Sara writhed within my grasp. My hands moved up her sides and forced the tight fabric of her bra over the hills of her chest. I swear I could feel Sara’s youth bleed into me. Memories of our carefree days raced back as rapidly as my heart pounded. I sucked in one last breath before sinking my teeth into one of her rock-hard nipples. We locked fingers. Sara moaned under my painful bite. I worked her nipple with my teeth until it was red; Then I started the other. Sara let me inside her. She wrapped her legs around me. I could’ve stayed there forever.

We leased a flat in the heart of London that became the headquarters for our hedonism. From there, the days and parties blurred together. We shopped, feasted, and danced in the shimmering lights of club after club. Although the backgrounds differed, some constants remained. First, I was always drunk. I preferred the slight buzz to full-on drunkenness, but who’s keeping tabs? Another constant, Sara Lynn Hart, was the main course and dessert wrapped into one hot body. She was the sweet coup de gras I could never get my fill of. We fucked every night until her pussy was dripping and raw—and until my cock ached from coming so much.

Then the unthinkable happened; We got sick of each other. Our eyes slowly drifted to the scores of attractive, nameless bodies that floated by. Desperate to spice up our relationship, Sara brought another woman home, someone she met in a bar. Her name was Emma, and she was ready for the threesome Sara had been talking up for weeks at that point. Emma was strikingly beautiful, her hair tied back in wavy black curls, draped behind a dark complexion so flawless and muscular. She had the most fantastic, firmest ass I’d ever seen, and another thing not even Sara knew at the time—Emma, like me, was a futanari, and she had the biggest, most magnificent—UGH.

Adding Emma to our relationship worked for a while. Sara found herself the center of attention. One night in particular, Emma and I sandwiched Sara in the hottest DP of my life. I was on my back, buried inside Sara’s ass on the verge of exploding. Sara thrashed wildly as her body stiffened. I lost count of how many times she came that night. But I knew once Emma came--she cried out as she pulled her throbbing shaft from Sara’s dripping pussy. I suddenly felt her cum drip between my legs and I’ve never been that turned on from another futa’s cum (sure, that was a short list at this point, but you get the idea, right?).

Sara collapsed in a heaving, satisfied mess. I tucked her in while Emma made herself comfortable in our living room. Emma and I hadn’t spent much time alone, and I was just excited to chat with another futa. “What brought you girls to England?” Emma’s velvety British accent snapped me from my gaze as I sat across from her on the sofa. “Or rather, what are you two running from?”

“Is that obvious?” I grinned and blushed. “I suppose we’re both running away from responsibility. We’ll take over each of our family’s businesses at some point.”

“Nepobrats,” Emma rolled her eyes. “Well, at least you’re cute. You’ve had this flat for 2 months, and I’ve yet to see either of you even try to look for work. Also, can I help you? Why are you staring at my cock?”

OOF! She caught me. “Sorry!” I blushed and diverted my gaze to my own nakedness. “I was just wondering how your dick is still so hard. We just went at it for an hour.”

“A blessing and a curse, I assure you.” Emma smiled, her hazel eyes flickering as she looked me over. “I could go another round if you’re game. Do you bottom?”

I grinned and leaned back on the sofa arm. My mind was still racing from coming in Sara’s ass. In a way, I was happy to have someone who wasn’t Brandi inside me. Often wishing my shitty cousin didn’t live rent-free in my head, I nearly whispered her name as Emma climbed on top of me.

“Have you been with another futanari?” Her voice dripped over me as she slid inside.

“Yeah. But it’s kinda weird.” I moaned. Her body heat felt amazing against my skin. I shuddered. Don’t ask me why I decided to confess this next part. “Do you want to hear how disgusting I am? I let my adoptive futa cousin use me for her free-use kink.”

“Fuck!” Emma cried. Hearing that sent her over the edge. She came—more like exploded. A heatwave rushed over me as Emma’s cum filled me. I writhed with pleasure, my inner slut screaming with glee. I didn’t even know this hot futanari’s last name and I trusted her enough to ruin my pussy. “A whore after my own heart.” Emma’s voice grew low and husky. She was still hard.

I didn’t sleep until Emma went to work the next morning.

Realizing Emma and I were an exclusive item took a few weeks. Sara had barely been home, and the most damning part that I liked it that way. Emma suspected Sara was seeing a local man named Arman. “I work at Interpol,” Emma would say, and she has suspicions about everyone. Witty and decisive, Emma was everything I ever wanted in a partner, and I was falling for her. When she asked to use me freely, I leapt at the chance to give her blanket consent.

Sometimes I’d jerk awake in the middle of the night with Emma pressed against me, fucking away. Other times, Emma would leave for work early and I’d find myself in an empty bed with a pussy dripping with cum.

And Emma finally told me her last name: Drake. I realized why she didn’t initially tell us and why I identified with her so much. She’s also from a famous family. Her parents are a futanari rights activist and an award-winning songwriter. Not to mention, she probably lives in the shadow of her mega pop star sister. But between my place and her’s, we started making a life with each other, or so I thought.

It was another weekend at Emma’s flat as I sprawled in her bed, playing on my phone. I remember spending that week following Emma around like a lost puppy. I was going through text messages when I got an alert that the prescription for my birth control was pending. My heart fluttered; My inner slut screammed again. Now was a perfect time to ‘forget’ about my birth control and let Emma get me pregnant. I adored her and wanted Emma to lead me and my family. My heart fluttered. Then my phone buzzed. It was Manfred. Then changed everything.

“Oh.” I gasped as I read the message on my phone. “Oh my god.”

“Something the matter?” Emma shouted from the kitchen.

“No.” I lied. “I mean, yes. My best friend’s mom died.” My shoulders sank, as well as my heart. I rubbed the back of my neck. “I should call her.”

“Sorry to hear.” Emma’s voice didn’t change as she talked over the beeping electric kettle. She appeared back in the bedroom with two mugs of steaming tea. “I’ve worked in law enforcement since I left University, and you’d think I’d be better at seeing dead bodies by now. The upside of working in computer crimes. But I suppose that’s all about to change.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, accepting Emma’s mug. “But what do you mean? What’s about to change?”

“I accepted a new job. Detective in the States. Baltimore.” Emma said entirely too casually. “I’ve been at Interpol for ages. It’s time for a change, and I’ve never used my dual citizenship.”

“Y—you’re leaving?” My heart pounded, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Emma, I love you,” I confessed, watching her blank expression, desperately waiting for any response. I sat up in bed, frowning. “Did you hear me?” I grew impatient.

She nodded with a blank expression. “I heard you, Sunny. Thank you. That was very sweet of you to say.”

Emma shrugged. “Sunny, I’m not sure what about you volunteering to be my cum dump elicted a romantic response from you.”

“Cum dump?!?” I blinked and stammered, completely blindsided. “I mean, fair, but we’re dating, right?” As soon as the words left my pitiful, pouting lips, I had answered my own question. We never talked about dating, and she had no obligation to me. Humiliated, I lowered my head and slid to the bed’s edge. “I’m sorry.” I mewed.”My god, I feel so stupid. I was thinking about having your baby.”

“I had a vascetomy when I was 18.” She replied flatly. “Sorry, dear. That wasn’t important to your point.” Emma’s eyes shifted as she clamored for some comforting words. “Sunny, I know I don’t experience emotions like most people, and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.” She said calmly. “This is probably a good time to break things off, yeah?” We sat silently for a moment, but ‘normal’ Emma didn’t last long. “Unless you’d want to spend one last night with me?”

“Emma!” I scolded. “Did you even process what I told you? What’s wrong with you?”

“Borderline personality disorder is what they call it officially,” Emma said quickly. “But I’m not sure if that covers all my shortcomings.”

“Goddammit.” I spat. I wanted to throw my mug, stomp, and scream. A little girl’s tantrum yearned to burst from my pounding heart. But I just left. I popped from bed and got dressed silently. It was the most adult thing I’d ever done in my life.

I wouldn’t see Emma or Sara again for the rest of the Summer; Then the seasons changed. The days suddenly got shorter and cooler. I pulled the sleeves of my thin, layered hoodie over my thumbs as I walked to get coffee one morning. My feet stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. I was tired. Hungover. Bored.

“Is this it?” I muttered to myself. “Is this all I have to look forward to?” People walked by and occasionally bumped me. I said nothing, past the point of caring. “This is so stupid.” I turned around and rushed back to the studio. Within half an hour, I packed. In another hour, I bought a plane ticket. Sunny Skye was running away again. I was sick of this dreadful, superficial, meaningless life. I needed to do something else.

☼☼☼

My plane touched down in Toronto on a rainy September morning. I alerted Manfred, but didn’t request a ride from Pearson Airport; I figured it out myself, mostly because I wanted to think in silence. What was I going to say to my lawyers? And Manfred? The guilt from abandoning my company started to crush my chest. I crept into the back door of the Skye estate. There was a stirring in the kitchen that I assumed was Manfred or one of the housekeepers. “Hello!” I yelled from the doorway. “I’m back, I just didn’t want to startle anyone.”

Then the noise stopped, and the sound of footsteps scattered off down the hallway. It confused and scared me. Where are we being robbed?

“HELLO?!?!” I yelled again as I entered the kitchen. A bag of sliced bread was left open. To its side was a jar of peanut butter. Someone was just making a sandwich. So why run? I followed the sounds down the hall, and they led to one of the guest bedrooms. I knocked with caution. What the fuck was going on?

“It’s open, Sunny.” A voice finally shot out from the other side.

“Cass?” I said, cracking open the door. “What’re you doing in here?” I looked around the room. The books, pictures, and German dictionaries. It was obvious what she was doing in there.

“I live here.” She answered, her back turned to me. “How was your trip?”

“It was good,” I said sheepishly. I turned away as I started mumbling what I knew was a piss-poor apology. “Cass, I’m sorry that I--OW!!!” I shrieked like a hurt puppy.

Cass hit me, and time came to a screeching halt as I cowered and clutched my cheek. I guess I didn’t even hear her get up, and it wasn’t until the ringing in my ear faded that I could function. I slowly turned from my recoil back to her. Cass’s steel eyes bore a hole in me as her hands rested on her very pregnant belly. The sight only added to my shock. I was speechless.