I come in a blurred frenzy as Jay works his hand in and out of me.

I arch, buckle, scream, curve, collapse. Jay carefully wipes his hand off on a towel, then lies down next to me.

“That’s really the last time, you know,” he says sorrowfully. I rest my head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer.

“I know,” I answer, trying to speak over the lump in my throat.

We’ve had our one last time for the third time now, we’re reluctant to stop. She’s come back, and he needs to know. Things are getting too complicated. It’s painful, we’ve been over every angle dozens of times, but the only solution is to stop being lovers.

“I’ll call you,” he says, and I know he will. We stand on my porch and hold each other for a long time. His arms are warm, safe. I nuzzle the space between his shoulder and neck, inhaling his earthy scent. I want to keep this next moment from happening, but it does. As Jay plants a kiss on top of my head, I feel him wipe away his own tears. This is really it, no more one-more-times. Continue reading

Technically, it’s New Year’s Day.

None of us have gone to bed yet,so it’s still New Year’s Eve to us. I’m not sure how I ended up here, it wasn’t planned. Someone asked if I wanted to ride along, so I did.

The table and counters are crammed with empty bottles. Sticky pink tendrils of wine from a broken bottle spread in a corner of the kitchen, threatening to creep under the refrigerator. A thin ice cold breeze wafts from the window, open just enough to let out the smoke from the pot and cigarettes that have been burning for hours.

I know some of the people here. Tony, of course, and his girlfriend Tasha. Tony and I have known each other for a long time. I used to be his boss when we worked on a summer crew at the state park. We have that comfortable kind of friendship, that watching-TV-together-with-my-feet-in-his-lap kind. In an few years, he’ll introduce me to my future ex-husband, but I’m in between boyfriends at the moment.  Continue reading

Mister smacks me across the mouth.

“Behave,” he says. “You’re really being a fucking brat.”

Tonight we aren’t playing. I’m really resisting him, but I don’t know why. I’m spoiling for a fight and I want to push back. Something deep in me feels poisoned, twisted. Storm clouds are brewing and I don’t want to stop it.

“What’s your safeword? Do you remember it?” Mister asks. He’s not sure what’s going on with me, this is his way of checking in.

“Yes,” I hiss.

“Well, what is it?” he squeezes my face, hard. I can already picture the bruises forming under his fingertips.

“Orange. Fucking. Crush.” I spit every word out as if I’m offended. I am. I know what I want.

“Do you want to use it now?” he tries to ask me as evenly as possible. A hair’s edge of tension creeps in around the edges.

“No.” I turn away from him.

“Knees, now,” he orders.

I take my time. Exasperated, he wrenches my arms behind my back, binds my hands, then shoves his entire cock in my mouth. I bite down against his flesh. Not hard, but with enough pressure to make him flinch. I wince as he firmly smacks my face. Stars bloom before my eyes, my ears ring. Continue reading

“Finally!” I think as JD rips my shirt to shreds.

I try not to be annoyed, it’s one of my favorites. I can see by the bulge in his grey sweatpants that he’s hard and excited, so I bite my tongue and just roll with it.

Tearing off more strips from my shirt, JD binds my hands to the bedposts. He uses the last strip of shirt to gag me, then stands back to examine his handiwork. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says gleefully.  “Another one?” I think. I’m plenty surprised now and getting wetter by the moment. JD goes into the bathroom, I can hear him rummage around, opening drawers and cabinets. I test my bindings, he’s got me tied tight. The gag tastes like fabric softener, not a very April Fresh flavor at all.

I wonder what triggered this. JD is vanilla with a capital V. This marriage isn’t really working anymore. Everything was fine as long as he had two jobs and was never home. Ever since he lost one, we’ve discovered we’re nowhere near as compatible as we liked to pretend. The sex, however, has always been lackluster. The closest he’s ever come to kinky was producing a half-used bottle of cherry flavored body oil, left over from a tryst with an ex-girlfriend. I’ve tried to talk him into tying me up, roughing me up a little, but all I’m met with is nervous laughter and another round of the missionary position. Over the years I’ve sent him dirty emails, dropped hints, bought toys, all to no avail.  I’m eager to see what he finally has in store.  Continue reading

Blue moved in a few months ago.

More accurately, he came to visit one day and never left. I’ve just never gotten around to taking him home, and he’s never asked me to. Blue is my companion in loneliness, an island neither of us is quite ready to leave. Our ghosts rattle loudest at night, so we’ve fallen into the habit of sleeping together, curled up against each other like shipwrecked children.

I’m in that in-between place, not quite asleep, but not awake either, when I feel his hand move up my thigh. I roll towards him, finding his lips waiting for me in the dark. We’ve kissed before, but only for the sake of kissing, this feels different. Hands search, clasp, unclasp, wander, return. I let him pull my top off. I tangle in the sleeves, he runs his hands down my sides as I pull the shirt over my head.  Continue reading

“I’ll drive Katie home,” I say to Roy, plucking the keys from his hand.

Roy gives me his trademark crooked grin, then chugs the dregs from his bottle of beer. Roy and Katie are the envy of coupledom in our circle of friends. Roy is devastatingly cute, Katie is sweet and pretty, it’s obvious they’re passionately in love.

“I’ll be in the car,” Katie says, trying not to slur and wobble. I’ve been trying to make an effort to get to know Katie better, all the girls in our crowd, actually. I’ve spent too much time with the guys,  it’s starting to raise suspicions.

I push through the crowd to tell Manny that I’m taking off for a bit,  I’ll be back later. “Are you okay to drive?” Manny asks me. I lie and say I had a wine cooler a few hours ago. I’m only a bit buzzed, besides, it’s quiet back roads all the way to Katie’s house. I kiss Manny, then head out.

When I get to the car, I find Roy and Katie making out in the back seat. “I decided to come along for the ride,” he says. Katie snuggles in his arms and gives a satisfied smile. I drive too slowly, I shouldn’t have had that last wine cooler. There are no other cars on this long, empty dirt road, but I take my time anyway. Peeking in the rear view mirror, I see Roy running his fingers through Katie’s hair, murmuring softly to her, then I hear soft moans. I turn the radio up and try to focus on the road. Continue reading

“I’ve been fisted once,” I say, “accidentally.”

“Accidentally?” Jay cocks a skeptical eyebrow.

“Boyfriend from a long time ago,” I explain. “He was fingering me and kept adding fingers until…whoops! I don’t know who was more surprised. Anyway, it frightened us both and kinda killed the mood. We didn’t know it was a ‘thing.’ We thought we did something wrong.”

“Let me fist you,” Jay says, “the right way.”

I’m feeling adventurous and horny, so I agree. Jay lubes up, completely coating his hand up to his wrist. His hand suddenly looks enormous. “Just two fingers for now,” Jay says. I’m surprised to find that I’m tense. Usually two fingers are no problem, but he has to work them in. I adjust the pillow behind my head. I can’t seem to get comfortable,  my neck aches with tension.

“Have I ever hurt you?” Jay asks. I tell him no, of course not. “Relax and trust me then,” he replies, “this will really be okay.” I feel a third finger slide in, I start to breathe deep to relax. I stop fighting it, I try to let my mind drift. I start thinking about being tied up and fucked, pretending his fingers are a giant cock…I squirt a little– now I’m definitely relaxed. Continue reading

I’m laying on the bathroom floor, Sam’s hands are around my neck.

The room is going dark and the baby is in my arms. “I just wanna feed the baby,” he slurs in his thick alcohol laden voice. I don’t remember what happens next, maybe someone shows up in the nick of time, maybe he just leaves of his own accord. It’s a memory buried and it doesn’t want to be re-opened. I know I’m left jittery, shaking any time someone even slightly resembling Sam shows up at the fast food place where I work. I’ll remember the second time though, in a clarity so brilliant that it might be a film I can project any time, starting, stopping, rewinding.

Sam and I were a couple, tumultuous and angry in that raw-edged way only teenagers can be. Sam refuses to believe that he’s the father of our baby. I cheated on him, but it was several months too early for anyone to be the father but him. He’s bitter and makes me pay for it as often as possible. Sam spends nine months telling me I’m a whore, a no good slut. I hold his baby picture up next to the photo of our baby, identical save for the yellowish cast and the outdated clothing Sam’s mother is wearing. He still has doubts. I finally tire of the constant barrage and tell him to get lost. A couple months later, he appears at the foot of my bed and tries to kill me.  Continue reading

“Oh shit, stop! Stop!” I say to Mister.

“I think I just peed a little. Fuck.”  Horrified, I start peeling the blankets off the bed.

“That wasn’t pee, you just squirted a little, that’s all,” Mister laughs, moving out of my way.

“Yeah,” I grumble, stripping the bed. “I squirted piss all over the clean sheets.”

Mister sits down at his laptop, then motions me to come over. He plays a video clip of a woman squirting fluid into a forceful high arc. “Look, I can make you do that,” he says confidently. “It’s so fucking hot when a chick squirts. I think you’d love it.” We watch several more videos purely for scientific research before I agree to let him try it on me.

I cover the bed with a beach towel as a precaution. Mister sits on the bed and pushes my knees apart. “If it feels like you need to pee, just go with it,” he tells me. Without warning, he slaps my pussy hard with his open hand. It startles me, but I like it. My pussy instantly feels warm and tingly. Continue reading

“I want you to try this only if you want to,” says Jay tenderly. “Don’t do it for me.”

Even though I’ve been fucking for years, I’m new to my sexuality. Like a child discovering candy, I want to sample each sweet tidbit offered to me.  Jay has been patient with me as I explore, showing me how to embrace my deeper self without the fear and shame that’s been holding me back for so long. Jay had approached this new question gently, knowing about my abusive past. It took me a few months to think about it, but now I feel ready.

He opens a drawer to reveal a small ornate knife with a twisty silver blade. “It’s pretty,” I say as he hands it to me to inspect. “It’s custom made, I only ever use it for this purpose,” he explains. The knife is heavy and sharp, it’s no toy. My stomach knots. He won’t hurt me on purpose, I know that. I have to know that and believe it.  “Are you sure you want this?” he asks. I pause, then nod. Continue reading