by Alex Grayson
Copyright © 2016 by Alex Grayson. All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Freya Barker at Rebel Edit & Design. Formatting by Freya Barker at Rebel Edit & Design.
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All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincide.
Disclaimer
Not suitable for anyone under the age of 18 due to strong language and extreme sexual practices. This is not your typical romance read. The main subject plot is sexual addictions, so expect lots of sex, mixed in with a storyline.
Dedication
I dedicate this to anyone suffering from hypersexual disorders.
Chapter One
Abby
My tits sway back and forth, and I thank God I have small ones, or they’d be damn near slapping me in the face. The guy behind me—I can’t remember his name at the moment—grunts his way through pounding into my pussy. His hands dig into my hips and sweat drips onto my back. My walls clench around his hard cock, but it still isn’t enough. I need more. My stomach starts cramping and sweat—not from the sex itself, but from the insistent need for release—forms on my brow.
Fisting the sheets in my hands, I ram my hips back to meet his relentless thrusts. Looking over my shoulder, I growl, “Either fuck me harder or get the hell out so I can find someone to do it for me.”
The hands on my hips tighten, and I know it’ll leave a mark later. I don’t care. I just need this guy to get the job done before the pain takes over.
“Fuck, babe,” he groans. “I fuck you any harder, I’ll plow you into the mattress.”
“Just do it,” I hiss.
“Jesus,” he grunts, but does as he’s told and slams his hip bones into my ass as he pumps into me forcefully.
I straighten my arms when his thrusts push my body forward. A blissful sigh leaves my lips, followed by a low moan when he finally hits the spot I need him to. My fingers start to tingle from lack of circulation, so I unwrap them from the sheet. My body starts to quiver with the first ripple of my orgasm. I close my eyes, and tiny sparks of light shoot behind my lids as the cramps in my stomach turn to flutters of delight. I lower my arms and lay my head against the cool sheets as immense pleasure takes over my body. The guy behind me still pounds away, jerking my hips back to him. I pay him no mind, content to just lay here and let him have at it. I got what I needed from him, it’s only fair that he reaches his peak as well.
Several minutes pass before he grunts and stiffens behind me. He releases my hips, and I immediately drop to the bed. He falls down beside me with his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing heavily. Now that my brain is functioning properly again, his name comes back to me in a flash.
Matt.
Matt was my lifesaver for the night.
As appreciative as I am of him, I really need him to go now; I don’t like it when they linger. I may need sex from men on a daily basis to keep my sanity, but I don’t let them stay afterwards. I don’t do relationships. I know I’m a bitch—using men for sex and discarding them—but I have a damn good reason.
I roll to my side and get out of bed. I bend with my ass facing Matt to pick up his clothes to toss at him. I lost my modesty a long time ago, and if it wasn’t for my job, or the fact I would get arrested for indecent exposure, I’d never wear clothes. It would make things so much easier when the need took hold. During the day I’m fine, but by the time evening rolls around, the urge grips me tight and leaves me in a near panicked state. I came so close to having an anxiety attack tonight. I thought I would have to call my friend, Nathan, to come rescue me. Luckily, Matt showed up and caught my eye at the perfect time.
And here we are now, an hour later, with him still lying on my bed, and me standing with my hands on my hips, glaring at him. He didn’t take the hint when his clothes landed on his stomach, so it looks like I’m going to have to be blunter.
I reach out with a foot and nudge his leg. “Hey, it’s time to go.”
His arm moves, showing off sleepy, plain brown eyes. “Can’t you give a guy a minute to recover?” he mutters.
“No. I need you to leave right now,” I tell him. I spy my panties on the floor and pick them up to slip up my hips.
I’m exhausted, and want nothing more than to sleep. A niggle of guilt tries to worm its way in with how I’m treating this guy, but I push it back. I’ve learned the hard way over the years that in order to keep my inner emotions intact, I’d have to build a steel wall around myself. I hate being a bitch, but it’s the only way to protect myself. Only a handful of people know the real me.
Matt grumbles as he drags himself from the bed. I ignore him and pull on a cami, sans bra. Using the hair tie from my wrist, I pull my thick blonde hair up into a ponytail as I wait for him to finish. I tap my fingers on the doorframe I’m leaning against, while he sits on my bed and pulls on his shoes. It’s normally the guys that are hell-bent on leaving as soon as they are done, but not this guy. He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s grating on my nerves.
He finally stands and makes his way over to me. I’m just about to turn around and lead him to the door when he boxes me in by planting his hands on the doorframe on either side of me. I inwardly cringe when he leans down, and the smell of whiskey on his breath assaults me. My head hits the door when I lean back to get away from him.
“How about we do this again sometime, sugar?” he drawls, leaning down to rub his lips against mine. They end up on my cheek when I turn my head.
I put my hands on his chest and give him a shove. “I don’t think so.”
“You sure?” he asks, not getting the hint.
“Yep.” I slip under his arm and walk down the hallway. “The door is this way,” I throw over my shoulder, and see he’s following.
Thank goodness.
Opening the door, I stand and wait for him to catch up. Right before he walks through the threshold, he reaches out, snags me around the waist and slams me against his chest. His lips land on mine before I get a chance to turn my head this time. Even though I seal my lips tight, bile rises in my throat. One thing I always avoid with the men I sleep with is kissing. It’s too personal, and intimate.
Right as I’m about to bite his damn lip and knee his balls up to his throat, he pulls back and murmurs, “Your loss,” and then he’s gone. I slam the door behind him and blow out a breath, relieved to finally be alone.
Fuck my life. Sometimes, I really detest my addiction, while other times, I fucking love it.
A knock at the door the next day pulls me from sleep. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I note that it’s almost noon. I also notice I have a missed call and text from Ava, one of my best friends.
Ava: Get your ass up.
It’s Saturday. I always sleep in on Saturday. Ava knows this. She also knows I get cranky if I’m woken prematurely.
I pull my pillow over my head when I hear the knock again. I know she won’t go away, but
my ass isn’t getting out of this bed to answer the door, either. If it’s important enough, she has her own key and will use it.
Minutes later, my bed dips and the pillow is yanked from my hands. I glare at Ava with an I’m-going-to-kill-you look. Of course she ignores it, just like every other time I give her my best evil glare, and proceeds to snatch the cover off my near naked body. I showered after Matt left last night, and only put on a pair of panties before falling into bed. Ava doesn’t bat an eyelash at my bare tits, and I don’t bother to cover them. She’s seen them before, and I’m sure she’ll see them again.
Ava and I met several years ago in a bar, when some guy was trying to pick her up and wouldn’t take the hint that she wasn’t interested. She was blunt with the guy, but he was relentless. I could sense the anger rolling off her, and wanting to keep her from blowing up on him, I interrupted their conversation by planting an open mouth kiss on her, right there in front of him. I’m not gay. I’m not even bisexual, although, I’ve had a few experiences with the same sex, but even that kiss had my body turning hot. It was just a ploy to help her out, but I think it went on a bit longer than I’d intended.
By the time we pulled back from each other, we were both breathing heavy. The guy was gone, which was my goal. I introduced myself, as did Ava, and we hit it off from there. We’ve been best friends ever since. We’ve both been a part of a few threesomes together, the two of us with a guy, but nothing else has ever happened between us. I don’t want it to, and neither does she. But we’re completely fine with seeing each other’s naked bodies. That’s just how we are.
“Get your ass out of bed and get dressed. We’re meeting Nathan and Tegan in thirty minutes.” She walks to my dresser and rummages through my underwear drawer, throwing me a bra and shirt.
“Did you at least bring coffee, since you so rudely woke me up before my alarm went off?” I grumble, slipping the bra up my arms and snapping the back clasp. “And why are we meeting Nathan and Tegan?”
“No particular reason,” she says. Walking into my closet next, she tosses me a pair of jeans. “It’s been a while since we’ve all had lunch together.”
“Coffee. You never answered my question about coffee. I’m going back to bed if you didn’t bring any.” I’m serious. If she didn’t bring coffee, then she can carry her ass out of my apartment and leave me to go back to sleep.
“On the counter, in the kitchen. Now stop piddly-dicking around and get dressed.”
In my bra and panties, I flip her off as I walk to the bathroom to relieve my bladder, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I laugh at her shouted, “You wish, bitch.”
When I step back into my bedroom, Ava is reclining against my headboard with my phone in her hands, plundering through my shit. Sometimes, it’s great having a best friend, but other times, like right now, I miss my privacy, and when you have a friend like Ava, you don’t have any.
I walk over and snatch the device from her hands. “Do you mind? What if I had dirty selfie pictures on there?”
She shrugs, then gives me a cheeky grin. “You do have dirty selfie pictures on there. I just saw one, and let me just say, hot damn, girl!”
Rolling my eyes, I pull on my shirt and pants before slipping on a pair of black Keds.
“You know we’re meeting Nathan and Tegan at Blackie’s tonight, right? We couldn’t just wait until then?”
“Nope,” she says cheerily, now going through my nightstand drawer. It’s not like I have a drawer filled with sex toys, but I do have one filled with boxes upon boxes of condoms. Due to my addiction, I always need to be prepared. I never have sex without one.
“Small?” Ava wrinkles her nose as she holds up a box that does indeed have the size as small.
“What? I can never be too careful. I’d rather have them and not need them, than not have them at all. The last thing I need is to bring a guy here and the condom be too big.”
“That’s why you check out the package before you ask him to deliver,” she retorts.
“You know there are times that I can’t do that.”
Ava knows of my addiction; we’re as close as two friends can possibly be. She’s seen me at my worst, when the tremors and sickness take hold. She understands, and doesn’t judge me. That’s part of the reason why I love her so much.
“True,” she mutters, looking at me with sympathy, and a hint of mirth. “Poor, poor, Abby.”
I grab the brush from my dresser and chuck it at her. She catches it and laughs.
“Bitch,” I huff. Walking out of the bedroom, I head straight for the kitchen, where my coffee is sitting on the counter. Pulling the tab away, I take a sip, nearly scalding my throat.
“Let’s go, before the guys get their panties in a twist,” Ava says, handing me my purse and grabbing her own coffee.
Twenty minutes later, we walk through the door of Suzie’s. It’s a small place that me, Ava, Nathan, and Tegan frequent often. We’re an odd group, to say the least, each of us having our own sexual addictions. The professionals have labeled our addictions as hypersexual disorders. Me, Nathan, and Tegan met during a sexual addiction’s support group, and decided to branch out on our own, feeling the group was a waste of time. Mine is sex in general. If I don’t have it at least once a day, I literally go through withdrawals, like a drug addict would. I get the shakes, stomach cramps, irritability, headache, and panic attacks. I used to try to curb my appetite by withdrawing from everyone and everything, scared the need would come when I couldn’t appease it, and the ridicule I would get. Now, I don’t give a fuck. If you don’t like me, faults and all, then you can fuck off.
Nathan’s addiction, or as some people call it ‘perversion’ is voyeurism. He gets off on watching people perform sexual acts. It doesn’t have to be sex itself, just some type of sexual behavior. I’ve caught him many times, jacking off in his apartment with one hand, while holding a pair of high-powered binoculars with the other. There’s one particular apartment across from his he likes to watch, but unfortunately for him, the woman is rarely home, so he’s forced to watch others, or get his kicks in other ways.
Tegan’s weakness is exhibitionism, preferring others to watch him. He can be alone or with a partner, as long as someone’s there to witness it, whether the person be male or female. The times that he can’t find a live person to watch, he has a webcam that he uses with exhibitionist groups online. He and Nathan have shared multiple partners before. It works out perfectly for them, because Tegan gets the satisfaction of Nathan watching, and Nathan gets off watching Tegan and the woman. From what Ava has said, she thinks Nathan and Tegan may have even had sex with each other before, during one of their threesomes. I haven’t asked. It doesn’t matter to me, and if they wanted me to know, they would have told me.
Ava’s story is a bit different. Although her and I met under much different circumstances, I found out quickly that her thing was role-playing. She likes being in situations that aren’t traditional, such as playing the victim, being dominated, playing doctor, or boss-employee shit. Anything that’s not your typical sexual experience.
Because of our “disorders,” none of us form attachments to the people we have sex with. The only reason we have with each other is because we all share some form of fucked-up need.
Me and Ava walk over to the booth that Nathan and Tegan are sitting in. I slide in beside Nathan, as Ava takes a seat next to Tegan. Nathan drapes his arm around the back of the booth over my shoulders. I look over at Tegan and grin, seeing the Aviators he’s never without, resting on the top of his head.
“Hey, Abs. How did last night go?” Nathan asks, looking down at me.
Before I get a chance to answer, a waitress I’ve never seen here before, walks up and takes mine and Ava’s drink order, giving both Nathan and Tegan a once-over. Tegan gives her a flirty grin, then watches her ass sway as she walks away.
“It was good. Close call, but I finally found someone,” I assure him.
I texted Nathan last nig
ht, letting him know I would probably need him. They all know what I go through if I don’t meet my sex quota. There’s been several times I’ve had to call on Nathan and Tegan to help me out. They always come through for me, not wanting me to suffer. A couple times, I’ve had them both at the same time, but I prefer Nathan since he’s more my type. His body is stacked with muscles, he has several tattoos, and he sports a very sexy beard and mustache, just long enough to feel good against your skin. He’s quiet and watchful, sometimes appearing creepy to others, but will kick anyone’s ass that messes with his family and friends. Tegan is the friendly, fun-loving guy that can be loud and obnoxious. I love him, but sometimes, he can be a bit too much.
Fortunately for me, they’re both capable of having sex in ways other than their normal addictions. Ava, on the other hand, can’t or won’t, I’m not sure which. The few times we’ve been involved with the same guy, we did role-play. The last time it was a wife, played by Ava, who caught her husband, a doctor, having sex with one of his nurses, played by me. It was weird in the beginning, but I soon forgot about any awkwardness when the guy started eating me out.
Some people may find our arrangement absurd, but it works for us. We’re all happy with the way things are. We’re there for each other in tough situations, because we all know the consequences if our needs aren’t met.
“Good,” Nathan murmurs beside me, before leaning down and kissing the top of my head.
The waitress brings our drinks and takes our lunch order. My lips twitch as I watch Tegan flirt with her. The guy could charm the panties off a nun.
“What are you doing later tonight, sweetheart?” Tegan uses his sexy voice, which never fails to work on females. He trails a finger up the outside of the waitress’s leg. Her eyes glaze over, and I have no doubt that if he were to reach beneath her skirt, he’d find her wet. I witness this shit all the time, and it amazes me how easy it is for him to pick up girls.
