by Shey Stahl
Cutiewitbootie: So you don’t need me? Lol.
wakes22: Can we meet now? Like right now!
Laughing, my hand flew to my mouth, unable to imagine this was real.
Who had I become? I was sexting men and loving it. It seemed…wrong…but right. I was turned on by it and him. Any man who could talk like this—make me this wet—I wanted him.
wakes22: No. Not right now. This weekend?
wakes22: You name the time and place and I’m there.
Cutiewitbootie: Okay, I’ll let you know.
wakes22: Are you sure Josh is okay with this? I mean, do I tell him I found you online and I’d like to fuck his girlfriend?
Cutiewitbootie: He told me whoever I wanted. He wants to videotape us together.
wakes22: Okay. As long as I’m buried deep in your pussy, I don’t care. What are the rules to it?
Cutiewitbootie: He doesn’t have many. Just be respectful, stop when I say stop, always wear a condom, and no ass to mouth.
wakes22: What about you? Do you want to?
I knew if he was face to face, he’d have that vulnerable side to him and it’d show by the way his brow scrunched and he licked his bottom lip.
Cutiewitbootie: I do. Very badly.
WHILE I INTENDED to get to know Brevin, it was more about sex. As dangerous as it was, I still wanted to know him. For a while, I swore to myself I would only make this about sex. Yet, when I met Brevin, I couldn’t help myself.
Most construction businesses had a peak season in the summers and began to slow down come winter. It certainly didn’t appear that way for JD Construction.
Josh and Jeb were all over the state and sometimes even out of the country at times. Business was good and Josh was making money. That was all he seemed to care about. When I asked if he was getting burnt out, his only answer was, “Money’s good.”
Days after Brevin and I were online, Josh was out of town in Sunnyside for three days and wouldn’t be back until the weekend.
Brevin was working on a project on Capital Blvd and stopped by after he was finished up.
“Are you stalking me?” My grin spread, lighting up my eyes.
Brevin dipped his head, his eyes on the ground, hands buried in his pockets. “Maybe. Freckles and a pretty smile get me every time.”
He convinced me, which wasn’t hard to get to know him a little. Not that he had to persuade me of anything. All he had to do was make eye contact.
“Let me get this straight.” Brevin suppressed a sigh. “He wants to watch while other guys fuck you?”
“Yes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you comfortable with that?”
“Yes, I am.” I was surprised how much confidence I held in my words. You’d think I’d been doing this for years, not months.
“How many have there been?” He was subtle in ways, like never meeting my eyes. I saw curiosity when he thought I wasn’t looking, his eyes would dart to mine to check.
We were having drinks at Mercato’s, or at least I was. Brevin was drinking lime water.
“Three guys so far.”
His jaw tensed, working back and forth. Tipping his head to the left, he went to say something but then he didn’t.
“Have you met any women on the site yet?”
Again with the lack of eye contact, he nodded. “I met two. One I was with, once, the other I never met up with.”
I wanted to jerk his head up so he’d look at me right then.
“Why not?”
“You messaged me.”
Sighing, I felt a rush of emotions ready to spill over like a tub slowly filling with water. I waited for Brevin to look at me. “This all seems so weird. First Josh, then the site, and you… I feel like I’m so confused about all of this.”
“About us, or him?” Brevin drew in a breath and held it, as though he was waiting on my reply to breathe.
“Both. I think I love Josh. I told him I do and I can’t imagine leaving him now…but there’s something about you, Brevin…I’ve…I don’t even know how to put it into words.”
“Sometimes feelings don’t need words.” Leaning forward so his elbows rested on the table, he stared at me.
Exhaling in a rush, he reached for his glass and drank the rest of it. I caught a shadow of emotion pass over his eyes, fleeting, and gone before I could process it.
I tried to detach myself from the emotions threatening to overtake me.
Drawing back, his jaw was tight, his eyes penetrating mine. For once I was beginning to think maybe I didn’t want the eye contact. It made it harder to understand any of this.
“Would you like to go to a movie with me? They’re playing La Bamba tonight at the Capital Theater.”
“No shit?” My eyes lit up at the idea. “But I…”
He sensed my hesitation and stood with fluid grace, clearing his throat. “It’s not a date. So if that’s what you’re worried about—”
“I’m not.” I stood next to him, giving him a wink. “Let’s go watch Ritchie Valens.”
How it wasn’t a date didn’t make a lot of sense to me but I was going to go on believing it wasn’t. For tonight.
We walked down to Capital Theater and watched the movie, and never once did Brevin make an attempt to hold my hand or anything else that would have made it feel like a date.
When the movie let out, he smiled at me as I brushed tears away. The ending got me a bit teary eyed. “So, Kitten, how’d you enjoy the movie?”
I laughed at the nickname from the movie. “I did, though I’m waiting for you to sing “La Bamba” to me.”
Chuckling, he handed me his sweatshirt when he saw me shivering. “Ah, well, maybe someday when I actually take you on a date, I’ll do that.”
Maybe someday and actually clung to the hopeful corners of my mind for reasons I couldn’t understand.
Our shoulders bumped as I wrapped the sweatshirt around my shoulders. “This kinda felt like a date.”
Twisting his head to look at me, our stare held again, the only sound our breathing and the passing cars on the street. “Not one with me. Because if this was a date, with me, I’d hold your hand and kiss your cheek.”
“Very 1950s of you.”
He rolled his eyes, his stare drifting to the pavement.
“And then what?”
“You’re greedy.” But then he twisted, his hands making contact with my hips, fingers lightly grazing my bare skin when my shirt moved. He had me pressed against the side of a building. “I would sing “La Bamba” to you just before I covered your body with mine. A woman like you, she needs to be cherished. She shouldn’t be on your mind. She should live in the deepest parts that keep you awake at night with thoughts of her.”
Who the hell was this guy?
Cutiewitbootie: When was your first orgasm?
After we went to the movie, Brevin and I were constantly online, chatting. I wasn’t sure if it was within Josh’s rules, but he was away in Canada for a week. A fucking week with Jeb working.
At night, I’d message Brevin and it’d go from there. In person, we didn’t talk about sex much; it never progressed to anything physical.
Online, that was a different story all together. It seemed we felt that was safe. My legs shifted under the comfort, the arousal already present. Not only had Josh been dirty texting me all day about all the things he wanted to do to me when he made it home, Brevin was doing the same thing.
There were times when I thought, surely, this was against the rules. But it didn’t stop me from messaging him.
wakes22: Mine?
Cutiewitbootie: Yes. I asked. Lol.
wakes22: Oh, uh…ten?
I couldn’t believe it. Ten? He had to be kidding.
Cutiewitbootie: No fucking way…you were an early learner.
wakes22: It was innocent at the time.
Cutiewitbootie: Mmm. Nothing about you is innocent. I need to hear this. How’d it happen?
wakes22: I was climbing a rope in g
ym class. Got to the top and the greatest feeling in the world rushed through me.
Cutiewitbootie: What? How is that possible? Are you sure it was an orgasm? I’ve always wondered how boys even climbed up ropes and poles. You’d think it would hurt your junk. Wouldn’t it?
wakes22: I assure you it is possible.
Cutiewitbootie: I’m gonna need to test this theory. So what, you came in your pants?
wakes22: I’ll gladly watch you try this theory out. And no, I was too young for ejaculation.
Cutiewitbootie: Seriously though. Is that really possible?
wakes22: It is. Until I figured out you could stroke it, that’s how I got off. I didn’t understand at the time it was an orgasm. Just that it felt good.
Why the fuck was it hot thinking about him climbing a rope to get off?
Cutiewitbootie: Fuck.
wakes22: Lol. Not sure, perv. I was ten. Stop being nasty.
Cutiewitbootie: Hahaha. I’m not. But shit, that is really hot to think of you climbing a rope.
wakes22: Well, I’ll show you how it’s done. Now, to you. When was your first?
I tried to recount when that was for me. And then a memory flashed for me. Summer break before my freshman year with a boy named Trevor. I remember it because I couldn’t walk right the next day.
Cutiewitbootie: I think I was like fourteen, maybe fifteen and my boyfriend and I at the time were dry humping. After like twenty minutes of grinding on him and a little rug burn, the greatest feeling ever rushed through me.
wakes22: Dry humping…been there.
Cutiewitbootie: Really?
My thighs clenched, again, and I moved the laptop beside me on the pillow and propped my arm up to support my head.
wakes22: Yep. Seventh grade a chick got me off that way. Came in my pants. It was really sticky.
I burst out laughing at the image I had in my head.
Cutiewitbootie: Fuck, Brevin. You’re just a little sex monster.
wakes22: Little -- and me -- don’t belong in the same sentence, woman.
He was right about that for sure.
Cutiewitbootie: I know. I’ve seen you. ;)
wakes22: Come on, send me a pussy picture. I need to know if this has gotten you wet and ready.
Cutiewitbootie: Oh, I’m ready. I want you to show me this pole thing.
wakes22: Tomorrow. Meet me at the playground by the flagpole.
Cutiewitbootie: No fucking way am I going to a goddamn playground Brevin.
wakes22: Okay, well, how else am I supposed to show you?
Cutiewitbootie: Isn’t there something a little more private?
wakes22: Yeah, Logan, it’s called a strip club.
Cutiewitbootie: Don’t be an asshole.
wakes22: I want to lick your asshole.
Cutiewitbootie: …
wakes22: Fine. Just meet me at my house. I’ll install the striper pole tonight.
Cutiewitbootie: Really?
wakes22: No. Don’t laugh.
Cutiewitbootie: Why?
wakes22: I have a pole.
wakes22: You’re laughing…aren’t you?
Cutiewitbootie: Nope.
wakes22: Bullshit. I’m not talking about my pole either.
Cutiewitbootie: Can I ask why you have a pole in your house?
wakes22: For exercise. It’s strength training. It’s actually monkey bars. For like pull-ups and shit.
Cutiewitbootie: And humping a pole.
wakes22: Well, I don’t do that now. I did when I was a kid.
Cutiewitbootie: Sure…
wakes22: Do you really think I need to get off on a pole when I have you now?
Cutiewitbootie: I suppose not…
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Josh was calling.
Cutiewitbootie: I need to go. See you tomorrow?
wakes22: Yep. Come over around 10 in the morning.
Cutiewitbootie: K.
Closing the laptop, I picked up my phone swiping the screen to answer the call. “Hey!”
“Hey, babe.” I heard the relief in Josh’s voice. “Fuck, I really miss you.”
Did I miss him?
Yes, I did. I didn’t like going to bed without someone in it now that I was living with him.
“I miss you, too.”
“So Jeb and Addison want us to go to Leavenworth for New Year’s. Would you want to?”
I knew exactly what would happen if we went there. It’d be another instance where I was either having sex with Jeb or he was with Addison. Since I’d met Brevin, I wasn’t sure I wanted that anymore. “I don’t know… I was kinda hoping to hang out here for New Year’s.”
He sighed into the phone. “Whatever you want.”
I knew immediately he was disappointed I didn’t want to go.
And it pissed me off because why did we have to hang out with Jeb and Addison all the time?
If we went to dinner, they came with us and we always ended back at Josh’s house having sex.
I didn’t mind it for a while, but then again, what happened to having a normal relationship outside of sex?
“I’ll be home late Sunday.” Josh’s tone was clipped, raised voices from what sounded like a restaurant drowning him out.
“Okay.”
We hung up after that and I was left lying in bed. I thought about what Brevin had said the other night. A woman like you, she needs to be cherished. She shouldn’t be on your mind. She should live in the deepest parts that keep you awake at night with thoughts of her.
Did Josh feel that way about me?
I wasn’t so sure anymore. I was afraid he was only in love with the woman willing to satisfy his sexual fantasies.
WEARING A PAIR of Under Armor shorts like he told me, I then threw on a tank top and pulled my hair up in a bun as if I was going to work out. In a way, I suppose I was. Just not the kind of workout most would think.
When I arrived at Brevin’s place, which was the pool house at his parents’ house, he was in the small kitchen filling up a water bottle. He turned when he saw me at the door and gave a nod. Tentatively, I knocked on the door of the pool house.
“Come in!” Brevin yelled.
He was at the counter still, water bottle in hand, and I took a moment to look at him. Every time I saw him without a shirt on, I gawked endlessly at his tattoos.
Brevin smiled when I was before him, my hands on my hips. Pulling at my tank top, he looked down my shirt to find my cleavage, product of the sports bra.
“I’d like to lick those titties,” he said, breaking the silence. His eyes were bloodshot and tired and I silently wondered who was in his bed last night. The thought made me cringe, jealousy swirling in my veins.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were eighteen and never had sex.”
“Try twenty-four and on a dry spell.” He nodded down the hall and began walking away. I watched the fluid motions, the way his muscles moved and the ink on his skin—such a beautiful man, inside and out.
Following him down the hall, I finally understood what it was he was referring to when I saw the bars. They were ones use for pull-ups and monkey bars.
“You work out a lot?”
“I do.” Flexing his biceps for me, he smiled. “I like feeling strong and in shape.”
I wanted to get this over with so I motioned to the pole. “Explain.”
“I can’t explain it. You’re just going to have to do what I say.”
“Is that so?”
He raised an eyebrow and ran his hands over his stomach. When they were at the waist band of his black Nike shorts, they dipped into the band of his underwear, just a touch. “Yes.”
I hated seeing him half-naked like this because it made me want to fuck his brains out. I wanted to run my hands over every hard line.
Brevin noticed and placed his hands on my hips, turning me toward the pole, his fingers digging into my sides. “Now, go over there and I assure you, it’ll be the best orgasm of your life.”
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God, was I fucking ready for that. The anticipation alone had my panties warm.
I noticed he had a remote in hand and pointed it at the stereo. “This isn’t easy to do but it’s worth it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Have you done it recently?”
“No. Not since I was a kid.”
I swallowed hard, unsure and nervous. That was when he hit the song, “Bump n’ Grind” by R. Kelly.
I smiled. “Fitting.”
He winked. “Very.”
Standing before the pole, my hands felt sweaty, like I wouldn’t be able to hold on even if I tried. “I don’t think I can hold myself up. I don’t have a lot of upper-body strength.”
The opening beats of the song came on, the lighting low enough that I couldn’t make out his appearance completely. “Why is it so dark in here?”
“There’s plenty of light,” he said, turning on the set of lights near the bars.
It burst on like a spotlight. He stood behind me, his chest pressing to my back, both of our breaths hitching at the contact.
Tenderly, slowly, paying attention to every goose bump he created, his lips moved over my shoulder. “Now grab the bar with both hands and climb to the top.” And then he gestured to the center monkey bars that ran length wise across to the other set. His hand raised, gripping the bar, “And then hang onto that bar because it’s easier to support yourself.”
Fuck. This looked really hard. Who knew I’d be getting a workout today.
“And this is supposed to give me an orgasm?”
“No, not necessarily the pole itself. It’s what you do while you’re up there.”
What I do while I’m up there?
Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed my fears aside and placed both hands on the pole. Looking over my shoulder at Brevin, his eyes seemed darker than usual, but they were so dark to begin with, I couldn’t be sure.
Lifting myself up, I tentatively climbed to the top about the time the music went into the chorus. Brevin, jumped up in front of me so he was hanging from the monkey bars like it was nothing.
There we both hung as I waited for his next set of instructions. My thighs pressed tightly into the cool metal of the pole.
My center slid, the smoothness of my shorts allowing me to slip a few inches. My eyes moved to Brevin, who was staring at me. “Now what?”
