Three’s Company

“Altogether? I’m not sure. I lost count after five,” Kayla said between frantic spoonfuls of Captain Crunch. “Ten? Twelve, maybe? I honestly can’t remember. I totally remember that first one, though, because my toes curled so hard I got a cramp in my foot.” She giggled at the memory.

Her three friends huddled with her around the small round table in the kitchenette, listening with rapt attention to her recounting of the most epic ass fucking of her young life.

“Kay, I’m totally happy for you and all,” Brittney said, casting sideways glances at me. “I am, for real, but that was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen in my life. We thought...”

“I know,” Kayla said, munching happily. “Why do you think I screamed at you all to sit the fuck down?”

I hadn’t heard her say any of that. Nor seen them stand to begin with when they thought I might choke Kayla to death with my cock. Nor heard their repeated screams for me to stop, or Kayla’s continuous stream of cries and squeaks as wave after wave of overlapping orgasms rocked her small body.

“I’m just glad you stopped us when you did,” Courtney laughed, “because I was about to drop kick a motherfucker!”

Ashley’s weak smile looked more like a grimace and she didn’t join in their laughter. She still appeared shaken. Her eyes continually flicked to me, as if struggling to reconcile the seemingly calm, smiling face before her with the furious, animalistic visage she’d seen just minutes before. I met her glance, but she moved her eyes away, unwilling to confront the conflicted emotions she obviously felt.

But my calm expression belied an abject terror that I could barely contain. It had only been blind luck that I hadn’t injured Kayla more severely than I had, and I fought back the tremors that threatened to unmask my true state of mind.

Only on the rarest of occasions did I fuck women that way, and only in carefully prescribed circumstances, with partners who’d proven themselves capable of withstanding the full force of my lust and weren’t just willing but eager to accept it. Women I knew had participated in gang bangs or practiced extreme S&M. Women who craved pain and degradation. Who knew exactly what they wanted and what they were getting themselves into.

I’d unleashed on Kayla without so much as a friendly warning, and although I hadn’t brutalized her nearly as badly as Erin, it had still been far more than she should ever have been expected to endure. Even as I sat with them at the table, painting a smile on my face to cover my shame and regret, I felt more certain than ever about my decision to leave the First Timers Club forever. I didn’t belong there, and this closest of calls galvanized my determination to get myself as far away from these girls as I could, before I did something terrible that couldn’t be undone.

I stood to gather my clothes off the floor and quickly dressed. When I began to pack up my other things, Brittney got up from the table to come talk to me.

“Hey, you’re not leaving are you?” she asked.

“I have to get back,” I said without looking at her, nearly pitching my things into the backpack.

“Because of what happened?” she asked, growing distraught. “You just surprised us, that’s all.” She reached for me, “Hey, just stay, okay? Everything’s fine.”

I yanked my arm away, then slammed by bag down and turned toward her in a vaguely threatening stance, a grim expression on my face.

“I have to go to work, okay? This might come as a shock to you, but I used to have a fucking life before I got sucked into your little virgin club, and I’d like to get back to it now.”

I turned back to my task before Brittney’s face finished falling, but I saw the beginning of it and I cursed myself for being such a heartless bastard to her.

Fuck it. Maybe it’s for the best. At least now you won’t be leaving them with any illusions that you were anything but a selfish prick.

“Y-you’re an asshole!” Brittney cried, turning away and returning to her friends. They all stared at me with expressions of shock and disbelief. Courtney stood and lifted her hand.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

I zipped up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. “Everything,” I said as I strode past her to the door. “Everything’s wrong with me. I don’t fucking belong here. I never did.”

“What about Saturday?” Ashley asked as I threw open the slider and left without answering her.

I drove in silence for ten miles with my jaw clamped so tightly my molars hurt. My upper teeth bit into my bottom lip with the expression of the letter f seeping out of me like a punctured balloon.

“Ffff...”

The driver of the eighteen wheeler put on his indicator light and I stamped down on the accelerator, racing to pass him before he merged, but he saw me coming and thought to himself, “Look at this stupid yuppie fuck,” and drifted into my lane just as I reached him, forcing me to slam on my brakes before I ended up as a permanent attachment to the back of his trailer.

“Fuck!”

The pair of eighteen wheelers blocking my way blissfully passed each other at a one mile per hour speed differential while I hovered in the fast lane with my bumper three inches from the faster one, slamming my hands on the steering wheel.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs until my throat hurt from the effort of saying fuck.

I don’t care about these trucks. I don’t! Fuck ‘em! Who gives a flying fuck about two slow trucks going thirty under the limit, blocking far more important traffic? Not me!

“Aargh!”

The woman in the car next to me gawked as I repeatedly slammed my palms on the steering wheel in a rage-filled tantrum until I snapped my head around to glare at her. She nearly broke her neck turning away, slowing to drop back into my blind spot.

Stop thinking about them. They’re fine. Way better off without an animal like you around. They’re safe now, and they don’t need you anyway. Not anymore. Even though you did everything in your power to fuck it up, you somehow still managed to get the job done, so just stop thinking about them and move on. Stop it!

“Get the fuck out of my fucking way, you fucking fuck!”

Oh god, Kayla ... I’m so fucking sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. What the fuck is wrong with me? Erin asked if I was challenged, that fat fucking cunt, but could she have been right? Am I challenged? Is that what’s wrong with me? Am I defective somehow? Damaged?

Almost certainly.

I couldn’t get home fast enough. As soon as I pushed my way into my apartment, I chucked my bag onto the couch and rushed to get into bed with my clothes and shoes still on. I pulled the covers over my head and stared into the black emptiness.

My phone alerted, illuminating the dark cocoon through my pocket. I’d received a steady stream of notifications since I’d left, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them.

Block and delete their numbers. It’s the only way.

I dug in my pocket for my phone. Thirty-seven missed text messages. Seven missed phone calls. Four voicemails. I ignored them all and opened my contacts app. Ashley Mitchell. Brittney Hughes. Courtney Bellinore. Kayla Farkas. The First Timers Club members. Delete Contacts? My finger hovered over the button when a new message notification from Kayla appeared at the top of the screen.

Kayla: We know about the camera

My heartrate accelerated. How could they possibly know?

I opened her text stream and an image loaded. The remnants of the hidden spy camera laid out on the table. Her next message caught me off guard.

Kayla: On my way

No Kayla, no. You need to stay the fuck away from me. I typed out a quick reply and sent it to her.

I tossed my phone aside, then picked it up to power it off.

“I can see you through the peephole!” Kayla yelled from the other side of the door.

“Go home.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Kayla, please...”

“I’ll sleep in the hallway if I have to.”

I unlocked the door and opened it a crack. Kayla stood defiant, staring back at me. I swung it open a bit more, holding it to block her entry. Brittney stood off to the side.

“Brittney’s taxi service, I presume?” I asked, like a sardonic asshole.

“Are you going to let us in, or what?” asked Kayla. When I didn’t respond, she turned her head. “Brit?”

Brittney pushed the door, and me with it, out of their way and they both walked in. I shut the door, pulling it closed when it stuck, and walked past them to the couch where I flopped down onto my stomach with my face mashed into the leather.

“Get up,” Kayla said.

“No.”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“Ha. This, coming from a high schooler. Fantastic,” I scoffed, my voice muffled by the cushion.

“Brit?”

“What?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Break something.”

“Kay ... no. It all looks really expensive.”

I pushed myself into an upright position and regarded the two girls. Kayla stood with her arms crossed over her flat chest, glaring at me. Brittney hovered nearby with her shoulders rolled forward, her head turned to avoid looking at me.

“Kayla, I’m so sorry for what I did to you,” I said.

She slapped me hard across the face. “Don’t you dare,” she said, angrier than I’d ever seen her before.

I held my cheek. “Kayla...”

“You will not apologize for giving me the best sex I’ve ever had. Don’t do that.”

I stared at her, astonished. She took a seat next to me and took my hand, placing it against her diaphragm. “You took my knot away,” she said softly, and I almost cried. Then she wrapped her fingers around my wrist.

“Who did this?” she asked. When I tried to pull my hand away, she pulled it back. “Enough of your goddamned secrets, alright? Tell me. Was it Ash’s mom? Did she do this to you?”

Her dark brown eyes bored into me and, without me saying a word, she slowly nodded. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out the battery pack from the camera and set it on my coffee table.

“Was this her too?”

“How did you even know to look?” I asked her.

“I get that you think we’re nothing but a bunch of naïve virgin girls who don’t know shit about nothing,” she said derisively, “but we’ve been playing strategy games our whole lives. You don’t think we know how to piece the fucking clues together? Jerk.”

“Tell us everything,” Brittney said, finally able to tolerate the look of my face. “And I mean, everything.”

I stood and went to the kitchen to root through my pantry, returning with a small sugar packet. I tore it open and sprinkled a little of the course brown crystals onto my tongue.

“Why are you eating sugar?” Kayla asked.

“I’m not,” I said, swallowing hard after the crystals dissolved. “It’s ecstasy.”

“Are you seriously doing drugs right now?”

“You want to hear the fucking story, or not?” I asked, getting up for a glass of water to wash the bitter aftertaste from my mouth. “I’m going to need this to get through it.”

When I returned to my seat, I thought to roll up the open end of the packet but held it up to Kayla and lifted my eyebrows.

“I’ve never done it before,” she said.

“You’d like it.”

“How would you know?”

“Call it a hunch,” I said.

She took the packet and squeezed the sides to force open the pouch and peeked inside, then looked at me.

“Just wet your fingertip. Now dip it inside and lick it off.”

She hesitated, staring at her finger, then looked up at Brittney. “Brit?”

“Why not? Fuck it,” Brittney said.

“Fuck it,” Kayla agreed. Lick.

The two girls stared at me through pupils the size of black dimes, shocked beyond all belief, as I finished telling them about me and Erin. The effects of the ecstasy had just started to kick into high gear and I felt strangely euphoric despite the gravity of the subject matter.

Even though Brittney had insisted I tell them everything, I chose to leave out a few of the less savory details. Things like buttfucking Erin in the den, and again in her bathroom, since telling them would serve no purpose other than to paint me as an even bigger degenerate than they already knew me to be. I didn’t want to feel worse about myself than I already did. But I did describe how she’d made me eat her ass after she’d drugged me and the details of the torture I’d endured in the garage.