by Amy Brent
Sadly, I started to realize that my first time was not going to be the fairy tale romance that I had always dreamt that it would be. But it was a good fucking, nonetheless. A rough, hard, frantic, thorough fucking. It took less than a minute for Jerry to cum. I remembered staring up at his face, all red and sweaty, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open.
“Fuck…” he muttered. “Goddamn… Fuck…”
I could feel him tensing up. His fingers were like vices, holding me tight as his big cock slammed into me over and over. Then I felt my own orgasm building deep within my cunt. I put my hands to my tits and squeezed them hard as the fire began to burn its way through my body. Christ, it was not romantic in the least, but it felt fucking amazing. I pushed my pussy toward him and moaned each time his cock rammed inside me. I could feel him in my chest, in my throat, in my temples. When he started to growl like an animal, I pointed my toes and tensed my muscles and gushed juices over him like a geyser. He scrunched up his face and groaned. His body tensed for a moment, then jerked as the orgasm rolled to completion. He exhaled loudly, still holding me against him.
“Jerry?” I asked tentatively. I was a little worried by the look on his face. I’d never seen a man cum in person before. Jerry’s face was purple and sweaty. He looked like he was having a heart attack. “Are you okay?”
My words seemed to jar him awake. His eyes fluttered like a slot machine and he let go of my legs. His cock slid out of me and he stumbled back with his pants around his knees. He tried to say something, but it came out as gibberish.
“Uh… I… um…” He quickly pulled up his pants and tucked his sticky, flaccid cock inside as he stumbled from the room. I leaned up on my elbows and watched him go. It was the first time in my life I realized how fucking weird men are. You give them what they want and rather than take their time and treat you like a lady, they fuck you quick and get the hell out. Son of a bitch…
I lay there on the bed as Jerry’s seed oozed out of me. My diary was in the nightstand drawer. I hurriedly pulled it out and wrote down what had happened in vivid detail. Looking back now, I was lucky he didn’t knock me up. That would have been ironic, repeating my mother’s mistake of getting pregnant at sixteen by a guy I’d never see again. That would have really been a Dr. Phil moment.
I remember a sense of panic setting in after the glow faded. I put away the diary and hurried into the shower and took the handheld shower head and washed Jerry’s sticky seed out of my cunt as best as I could. My mom kept a supply of douches under the bathroom sink. I used one to rinse myself out, then lathered up and hit it with the spray head again. I told my mom when she finally came home the next day that I wanted to go on birth control.
She didn’t even bat an eye.
I was on the pill by the next week.
And to my knowledge, neither of us ever heard from Jerry again.
* * *
When I wasn’t waiting tables at Applebee’s on the weekends or taking accounting courses at the local community college during the week, I spent most of my time in the summer floating on an inflatable raft in the pool in our backyard, letting the sun streak my blonde hair and bake my skin to a golden brown. We were one of the few houses in the neighborhood that had a pool, and we would not have had one if it hadn’t been for mom’s Pussy Power.
One of her boyfriends, Bob or Rob or Roy, I think it was, was a pool contractor and they dated long enough for him to install the pool in the off-season when his crew wasn’t busy. Mom said he just wanted to see both of us in bikinis and the cost of doing so was installing the pool, even though it took up most of the yard. She broke up with him a week after the pool was finished so he never got to see us in our bikinis, which I’m sure was mom’s plan all along.
School was on summer break, so I had been lounging in the pool most of the day. My body was hot and oily to the touch, my skin glowed reddish brown. I was standing at the kitchen sink in my string bikini on the very spot where I had stripped off my clothes to seduce Jerry three years before. I thought about him sometimes when I was alone in the kitchen. It was almost like I could feel his eyes on my body and hear his breath in my ear. Just thinking about him got me all hot and bothered sometimes. I wondered what he was doing and if he was happy. Silly, really, how you sometimes thought of your first lover even if the lovemaking wasn’t what you expected it to be.
As I was filling a plastic bottle with ice water I heard mom’s car pull into the carport on the side of the house. I finished filling the bottle and screwed on the top just as she came through the side door.
At just thirty-eight years old, mom was still a knockout. She was wearing a black miniskirt that showed off her tanned, killer legs, a red blouse with short sleeves, and four inch heels. Her blonde hair was blown out and her makeup was perfect. She looked like she was getting ready to go clubbing rather than a legal secretary on her lunch break.
“Hey, what are you doing home?” I asked as she breezed into the kitchen and dropped her purse and keys on the counter. She tugged the bottle of ice water from my hand and unscrewed the top.
“I’m running errands for Ralph,” she said with the bottle at her lips. She took a long drink and sighed. “It’s so fucking hot. My bra is soaked. I came home to change.”
“Why doesn’t Ralph buy you a car with an air conditioner that works?” I asked, holding out my hand so she could give me the water bottle back.
“Ralph is my boss, honey, not my sugar daddy,” she said as she unbuttoned the blouse and slid it off her shoulders and down her arms. She was wearing my bra, the black one with the extra padding, as if she needed it. Her tits were bigger than mine and just as firm. Sweat dotted her chest and cleavage. She picked up a roll of paper towels from the bar and swirled a few sheets around her hand and mopped her chest and neck with it.
“You’re fucking him, so he needs to buy you a car,” I said, rolling my eyes at her. “It’s the least he can do.”
“Sweetie, you have no idea how things work in the real world,” she said with a heavy sigh as she swiped her armpits with the paper towels. She tossed the paper towels in the trash can by the door and picked up her blouse. She started toward the hallway door, then turned around and held out her hand.
“Oh, have you heard what happened to the woman next door?”
I frowned at her. “No. What woman next door?”
“Bethany Ryder, the woman right next door,” she said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “The one with the cute little boy you used to babysit and the hunky husband that’s in the Navy or something?”
“Yeah? Cody is the little boy,” I said, trying to remember the last time I’d seen him. It had been a while, even though he lived right next door. He was probably four or five now, a cute little blond with big blue eyes. I babysat him when he was just a toddler, whenever his mom needed a break because his dad was never around. Mom was right, the dad was hunky and hot as hell, though I probably hadn’t seen him in couple of years. They were a quiet couple and pretty much kept to themselves.
I said, “I think Ben is her husband’s name. He’s a Navy SEAL, I think. What about her?”
Mom put a hand over her heart and gave me a sad look. She always had a flair for the dramatic. “She was in a terrible car wreck last night.”
“Wow, that’s awful,” I said as a feeling of dread worked its way up my spine. “Is she okay?”
“No, honey, she was killed,” mom said sadly, looking like she was about to cry, even though she probably hadn’t said three words to the woman in the entire three or four years they’d lived next door. “Mrs. Crown across the street said she hit a tree or something last night in that rain storm.” She glanced at her watch. Her sad expression immediately went away. “Shit, I gotta go. Ralph’s waiting on me at the courthouse.”
Before I could ask anything more, she headed down the hallway toward her bedroom, tugging off the bra and mopping sweat from beneath her bouncing boobs as she went.
Chapter Five: Ryder
The flight from Mosul to Reagan International took almost twenty-one hours with brief layovers in Istanbul and London. I managed to get Quinn on the sat-phone while I was on the ground in London, but the only thing he could tell me was that Bethany was dead, and I already fucking knew that. He said he’d be waiting for me at baggage claim when the plane landed tomorrow morning around 7 A.M. DC time, and he’d tell me everything then. There was nothing I could do but say okay and hang up the phone.
After flying out of London, I spent most of the next nine hours staring out the window at the ocean 39,000 feet below without really focusing on anything in particular. All I could think about was Bethany and the short time we had spent together. And how much of that time we’d spent apart or fighting because of my job.
I met Bethany McDonald in the summer of 2009 in a dive bar outside of Coronado, California, where I had just completed twenty-four-weeks of SEAL training. She was a bright-eyed, twenty-one-year-old marketing major at UCLA and I was a cynical twenty-six-year-old Naval Academy grad who was ready to take on the world and all the big bad motherfuckers who made it a dangerous place to be. When we met, I was two weeks away from heading to the Middle East on my first SEAL team deployment, so I certainly was not looking to fall in love. That said, I was always looking forward to get laid.
She was incredibly cute and sexy and full of life, wearing a lime green bikini top and cutoff jeans and flip flops. Her skin was baked to a golden brown and she smelled like sweat and coconut oil. Her dark hair was cut short and tucked behind her ears and her eyes were as blue as the ocean at dusk.
I was young and cocky and full of testosterone and so goddamn sure of myself that my first words to her were, “Hey, beautiful, why don’t we go find a place to fuck?”
I know. It was a douchebag move. To my relief, Bethany didn’t punch me in the nose and storm off with her friends. She cracked up laughing and my ego quickly deflated. Rather than telling me to go fuck myself, she told me to cut the bullshit and buy her a drink. We spent the rest of the night laughing and drinking and flirting like two teenagers at a summer dance.
She didn’t leave with me that night or the next, but on the third night we got shitfaced on dollar beer and Jägermeister shots and spent the night naked on the beach, fucking until we couldn’t keep our eyes open.
A few days later I shipped out, but we stayed in touch and a long-distance romance blossomed. In the summer of 2010, we got married in Hawaii while I was on a three-week furlough. Quinn Blackstone was my best man and Bethany’s sister Emily was her maid of honor. We settled in Arlington, Virginia, just outside of DC. Bethany’s family was from an area called Fall’s Church south of Arlington. It was a good move because I had another three years to serve and was going to be gone a lot given the situation in the Middle East. It was nice that Bethany had family nearby, especially after she gave birth to our son Cody in March of 2012.
Our marriage was solid enough to sustain my long tours of duty, at least I thought so at the time. Bethany knew that I was a SEAL. She knew what she was signing up for. She and Cody had their life in Arlington and I was glad to be a part of it when I was home. The rest of the time, I was a SEAL, period, end of story. I went where I was assigned and did what I was ordered to do. The SEALs came first, my family second. Like I said, Bethany knew it going in and rarely complained. Until a year or so ago, when my absence suddenly seemed to become a very big deal.
“Your son doesn’t even know you, Ben,” she snapped as I sat slumped in the recliner trying to watch a ball game despite the psychotic woman who was hovering over me telling me what a shit dad and husband I’d become. “Even when you’re here, you’re not really here. Ben? Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Bethany, I’m listening to you,” I said with a sigh. “It’s impossible not to.” Funny, I’m not afraid of any man and have never run from a fight. But Bethany, who was half my body weight and six inches shorter, could beat me into the ground with just her words. I fucking hated her for it. I’d have rather be in fucking Iraq fighting the Taliban than sitting in our living room listening to her lecture me.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” she asked, her voice cracking, her hands waving in the air.
I turned off the TV and set the remote on the table next to the chair. I forced myself to breathe slowly and did my best to remain calm. Cody was barely three then. He was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa playing with Legos and ignoring us. It was a sad fact, he had already learned to drown out his parents when they were going to war. I didn’t learn that skill until I was in my teens. I looked up at her and held out my hands.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to fucking stay home!” she said, screaming in a whisper, incredulous that I even had to ask.
“You want me to muster out of the SEALs?” I asked, knowing full well the answer but dreading it nonetheless. She had made it crystal clear numerous times lately that she was tired of being a single parent. And four years of being married to a SEAL was all she was willing to take. My enlistment would be up in a couple of months and I could muster out or re-up for another two years, with most of that time spent in Iraq or Afghanistan. I knew what she wanted me to do. I just wanted to hear her say it so I could throw it back in her face later on.
She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. “Yes, I want you to muster out of the fucking SEALs and become a part of this family.”
“And do what for a living?” I asked. I had always prided myself on keeping cool when things got tense. It was a skill that had served me well in the field. But at that moment, I could hear the anger creeping into my voice. Bethany heard it, too. It seemed to drive her forward, knowing that she was getting under my skin and pushing my buttons.
“Do whatever you want,” she said. “You have a degree in history, for Christ sake. Teach or write or go back to school and get some other degree.”
“I’m too fucking old to go back to school,” I grumbled.
“Then go to work for Quinn,” she said, huffing at me. “For the life of me, I don’t understand why you didn’t go into business with him when he asked you to. We’d be sitting on easy street now.”
Quinn had mustered out of the SEALs and started his private security business a year earlier and was already making ten times the money I was.
“I know, Bethany, you remind me of that fact every chance you get,” I said, blowing out my cheeks and rolling my eyes at her. “I could not have gone into business with Quinn because I was still active duty, remember?”
“Quinn would have given you time to muster out,” she said. “All you had to do was ask.”
“Bullshit,” I snorted. “Quinn’s not my fucking keeper, Bethany. And neither are you.” I regretted saying it immediately. I was doing a lousy job of pleading my case. It would have helped if I’d known what I really wanted to do with my life. Bethany somehow sensed my indecision. She folded her arms over her chest and pushed her eyebrows up.
“Do you care more about the fucking SEALs than you do your family, Ben? Be honest with me. You owe me that much.”
I probably answered a little too quickly to sound convincing. “No, of course not.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Then choose.”
I stared up at her. “Pardon me?”
“Choose.”
“Choose?”
“Choose. The SEALs or your family.”
I slumped back in the recliner and took a deep breath. Sad to say it now, but I almost told her to go fuck herself. How dare she ask me to choose between the two things I loved the most; the SEALs or my family. Fuck the SEALS were my family. I felt more at home with my SEAL team than I did with her and Cody. My team knew me inside and out. They loved and respected me without judgment or reservation. They understood me and never questioned my motives. They had my back regardless of the situation and would never ask me to choose between the things that I loved the most.
“Well, Ben? W
hat’s it going to be?” I felt the heat from her eyes. Little beads of sweat broke out on my upper lip. She lifted her chin to stare down her nose at me. By this time, Cody had wondered over and was holding out his arms so I’d lift him up to sit with me in the chair. Bethany took it as the opportunity to drive the knife fully into my chest.
“Are you going to choose the SEALs over your little boy?”
“Daddy?” Cody had Bethany’s dark hair and eyes. When he smiled, his eyes closed behind his chubby cheeks and his entire face lit up. He patted my cheeks between his hands and gave me a loud, wet kiss on the chin.
“I choose you,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close. I looked up at Bethany and held out a hand. “And I choose you.”
Bethany stared at my hand for a moment, as if she were debating on whether to keep the argument going or to let me off the hook. We both knew the argument wasn’t finished. Bethany wouldn’t accept my promise that easily. Finally, her eyes softened and she took my hand. She told me she loved me, though it sounded forced, like something she thought she was supposed to say rather than how she really felt. I told her that I loved her back just as convincingly.
