by Shey Stahl
She changed that.
Life got complicated.
My breathing intensifies when I breathe out, “Why?”
Brie swallows hard, shifting the box in her hand filled with Austin’s football trophies from college. “What do you mean, why?”
Brie had always had a thing for Austin since the day I met him when I was thirteen. It made me wonder, naturally, how long had this been going on? Austin said they slept together before we were married, but I can’t trust anything Austin says, as you know.
Did I want to know the answer? No. Not really.
Does it stop me from asking?
Nope.
“Why did you fuck my husband?”
And then she says, wait for it. . . it’s the most generic line ever used.
“I. . . it just happened, Aly. I didn’t mean for it to. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Excuse me while I stick my finger down my throat and gag in her face.
“When was the first time?” Brie’s face hardens like she has to poop. I point in her face. “Don’t lie either. You’ve lied enough in our ex-friendship.” Like how I added ex? She needs to know this grudge-holder isn’t befriending her again. “Time to be honest with me.”
Brie draws in a careful breath, as though she needs it to explain to me how much of a bitch she really is. “First time was when I was fifteen.”
Fifteen. Fucking fifteen?
That means. . . no, it couldn’t. Well, yes, it could. That means Austin lied when he said I was his first because he was seventeen when I lost my virginity to him at fifteen. Brie is one year older than me. Which made her sixteen. . . and I know my math skills aren’t that great, but I can do the numbers on this one.
“Austin had sex with you while I was dating him, didn’t he?”
She nods. One. Simple. Nod.
What the fuck? How could I have been so naïve in all this? Was I that caught up in Austin’s perfect wispy hair and crooked smile that I didn’t see how much of a lying, cheating bastard he was?
Apparently so.
“And it continued, didn’t it?”
Another nod.
“And you remained friends with me because. . . .” My words trail off, and I stare. This is where she fills in the blanks. Or she’s supposed to. Does she?
No. She fucking stares at me like she wants to drop the box on my head and run away.
You know me well enough by now to know what I do next, don’t you?
You fill in the blank then. Watch out for the blood coming from her nose though. Wouldn’t want your shoes to get stained.
I’m just kidding. I didn’t hit her. But I wanted to.
“Nothing I can say to you is going to make this any easier,” she says tearfully. “I know that I’ve lost you for a friend, and I’m sorry for that.”
“I’m sorry too,” I admit. “But not for losing your friendship. I’m sorry you lost mine. I’m sorry I ever trusted you. But thank you.”
“For what?”
“For showing me how to be stronger. If you hadn’t slept with Austin, I wouldn’t have realized how badly I needed out of that relationship.”
You can see the realization on her face, the understanding, the choices she’s made and the premonition that she could be me eight years from now, raising a daughter on her own.
I hand Brie Austin’s boxes, one by one as she loads them into her Mustang, her hood and windows fixed. It still brings a smile to my face thinking of how gratifying it felt taking my frustrations out on her car.
Inside the house, I smile again because there are my boys, curled up on the couch, still in their pajamas, one on each side of Ridge.
They don’t acknowledge my presence in the room. Why would they? They’re watching The Walking Dead. I finally see what he was talking about last night. Selfless love. Something he’s showed my boys, and me, since he came back here.
Sunday night, two days after her birthday, Aly leaves the boys with Henry and Tori, and I take her on our first date. Only I don’t tell her where we’re going.
I blindfold her on my bike, and when we get off, I make her keep it on.
“Keep your eyes closed,” I tell her.
We walk, and though I know it’s difficult for her to trust anyone enough to blindfold her, she trusts me apparently.
The sun’s setting. It’s low on the track, bathing it in a soft orange glow. I think she knows where we’re at, if not for the smells of the track that never quite leave this place, but for the uneven ground and the goddamn pothole to the left of the bleachers I still have yet to fill in despite three people twisting their ankle on it.
Once we’re at the exact spot I want, I don’t take it off right away. Instead, I watch her for a moment, standing there in a low-cut black top, and jeans. Heels on, she looks fucking sexy as hell, and I’m thinking maybe fucking her against the side of the office building might work out pretty nice for me. That’s a good date, right?
Maybe not for our first date, but let’s not count that fantasy out yet. I release the blindfold and step back away from her. “Okay, open your eyes.”
She smiles and then looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and you know, I get this look often. “This is our date?”
“Well, yeah.” I lean my shoulder into the metal beam of the grandstands. “I first kissed you under these bleachers.” I give a nod, waiting. “That’s pretty fuckin’ romantic if you ask me.”
It takes Aly a moment, reliving, maybe, but then her expression warms and she sees the significance of why I led her here for our date. She moves closer to me, winding her arms around my neck. “And let me guess, you want to get to turn four now?”
My fingertips squeeze her hips, growling into the side of her neck. “At least give me the apron of turn three, and we’ll take the rest back to my place.”
She draws back, searching my face. “Your place?”
“Yep.” I kiss her cheek, her top lip, then her bottom carefully, and then I glide my lips along the curve of her jaw until I’m at her ear where I whisper, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you in my childhood bed.”
Her eyes brighten. “You’re living at your dad’s place now?”
I shrug. “Just until I can figure out what I’m doing with it. Henry said something about Tori’s sister needing a house to rent or he was kicking her out. Thought about putting it up for rent.” I pull her in, wrapping my arms around her. “So whatta say? Wanna test out the bed?”
Her cheeks warm in the cutest way. “I’m kinda partial to the trailer and minivan now.”
“Oh yeah?” I tip my head the direction of the pits. “The trailer’s over there. Say the word.”
Something in her changes and I’m not about to complain, but she literally fucking attacks me under the grandstands.
Resting my hand on her jaw, I lean in and kiss her, deepening the kiss. Sighing, I pull back, my mouth lingering over the top of her ear. “You’re hot when you take control.”
Aly angles her mouth to mine, inviting the kiss, her fingers working their way to my temple, running her fingers through my hair.
A stifled moan works its way from me at the gesture, and I tighten my grip on her hips and press my mouth more firmly against hers. Her hands sweep back down along my jaw.
My mouth moves frantically from her ear to her neck and down her collarbone, before returning urgently to her mouth and with need to the next spot.
Stepping back, I yank my shirt over my head and return with just as much need as before. She grabs onto me anywhere she can, hands fisting in the band of my jeans, sweeping up over my arms, and grabbing my biceps. “You really want to out here?”
She doesn’t say anything and slides slightly against the wall, losing her footing. That shifts our position. Her knees part and I press my cock into her center, the gravel beneath our feet crunching at the change.
My hardness between her legs entices a moan from her, and I grasp the backs of her legs, lifting her up to wrap around my waist.
Without breaking the kiss, my mouth is back to her neck. It’s then I grind into her, pleasure shooting throughout my body. My heart hammers in my chest, and breathing escaping me entirely. I can’t help myself, my hips move again, making more direct, persistent contact with her.
I groan in her ear, a noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan, as her body answers mine. “I can’t wait any longer. We either do it here, or I’m taking you to my trailer.”
“Here,” she begs, breathless and squirming, arching and rubbing her pussy all over my cock straining against my jeans.
I let go of her, my hands on my belt buckle. I manage to get my jeans down around my ankles and hers off completely, and a condom on when she’s looking at me.
Climbing my body, I give her a lift, hands low, holding her there. She lowers herself, allowing me to glide inside her. Both of us gasp.
Once I’m inside her, it’s fast and desperate. I want to slow it down, but I know I can’t. She’s holding on to my shoulders, but her legs keep slipping and the more they slip, the harder it is, but it doesn’t stop us. We’re getting pretty good at fucking in some strange locations.
Aly’s like a fucking wild animal, clawing at me, moaning, arching, her head back against the wall, and I swear to God she comes within the first minute.
I don’t last long. The sight of her in the midst of an orgasm always gets me off.
It’s over just as quickly as it starts and when I’m still inside her, she drifts her hand up the side of my face, along the edges of my cheeks and for a split second, I don’t know what she’s thinking. And I don’t ask, either.
She’s quiet, still holding onto me until I drop her legs. Her cheeks break out into a fire, waiting to see what I’m going say.
I smile. “Not bad for a first date. Didn’t even get to dinner.”
“Yeah.” She bites her bottom lip, righting her jeans. “Guess I got a little carried away.”
I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Just so you know, I installed cameras the other day.”
She gasps and smacks me on the side of the goddamn head. “Are you serious?”
Rubbing my head, I scowl at her and back away. “Yep.”
“I want to try something new,” I tell Ridge after our date, winking at him as he lies on the bed in the trailer. We’re supposed to go pick up the boys in the morning, so tonight is the last night for me to you know, be kinky.
I’m feeling daring after the outside nudity, and really, that’s his fault, isn’t it?
Take a look at his face when I say try something new.
Ain’t it cute. He looks hopeful, doesn’t he? “You gonna let me stick it in your ass finally?”
“Nope.”
He groans. “You’re unreasonable.”
I swat at him and push him back, so he’s lying down. “Shush.”
I have a plan. Not a good one, but a plan.
All right. I admit, my blow jobs could use some work. You remember the other night when I gave him head in the garage, right? I can do better. At least that’s my hope. Not everyone is good right out the gate, right? You’d think after ten years of handing them out, I might possibly be better at it.
You’d think that, and you’d be wrong.
So wrong.
Anyway, I had a plan for it with the help of the Internet. You probably know this already but I research everything, and YouTube is my friend. That’s how I came across this video a week ago where this chick used a grapefruit to give a man a blow job. Well, a dildo and even better it was a demonstration video. My kind.
The most terrifying part? The noise she made that sounded something similar to Darth Vader drinking a Slurpee. Which—by the way—actually exists. The Darth Vader Slurpee that is. It’s like this purple grape, raspberry, sugar concoction that I’m positive had my boys actually drank the entire thing, would have died.
That’s not the point of this though. This YouTube video of Auntie Angel, the sexpert is.
So I went and got a grapefruit the other day and intended on trying it.
Ridge’s lying on the bed, hands behind his head, and I grab it from my purse. As I cut the ends of the grapefruit off and make the hole in the middle, I have so many internal thoughts it’s almost distracting.
Will it actually work?
Will it be too weird to be sexual?
Will he laugh?
Will grapefruit juice go up his urethra?
Will it burn?
Nervously, I turn on K. Flay’s “Blood ‘n The Cut” because it’s my jam, and I think if I’m going to do something this crazy, I need my K. Flay.
Dancing my way back to his bed, the trailer rocks with my movements and I think Ridge can tell I’m up to something because he’s watching me curiously, sitting up on his elbows. “What are you up to?”
I hide the grapefruit and blindfold behind my back. “Lie back.”
He does, grinning, but when I go to blindfold him, he stops me. “No.”
“Why not?”
The smirk tugs at his lips. “I’m scared of the dark.”
“Bullshit.”
I blindfold Ridge as Auntie Angel instructed, strip his shorts off and then proceed to give him a blow job to get him hard, as she also instructed. It’s a step by step process, and I’m one to follow directions.
So there I am. See me? Head bobbing up and down as Ridge remains mostly quiet, but I know he’s enjoying it. How can he not? Mouth on cock. . . always enjoyable for them.
And then I discretely slip the grapefruit over his cock, and he’s immediately tense. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, what the fuck is that? There’s something sharp.”
I’m like, smiling, no, not really, I have a dick in my mouth. I do mumble while spitting a seed out, “Uh, my hand?”
Shit. I should have remembered to get the seeds out.
“Yeah, no, it’s not.” Off comes the blindfold and I’m caught, wide-eyed, mouth full of tartness and the head of his cock. “What the fuck are you doing with a goddamn grapefruit?”
Uh, I’m in trouble.
My mouth pops off with an exaggerated noise. Sounds like I just pulled a sucker out of my mouth. Our eyes meet. I offer a not so convincing smile. “Oh relax. You’re getting head. Does it really matter what the grapefruit is for?”
He wants to argue with me, but he sighs and shakes his head taking the blindfold and throwing it on the floor. “Fine, but no blindfold. I don’t trust you.”
“Why not?” I move the grapefruit again, up and then twist. “I let you blindfold me.”
“I wasn’t trying to fuck you with fruit.” Ridge draws in a sharp breath, his back straightening. He scowls at me. “There’s something sharp.”
I pull it off, the weirdest sucking sound coming from the grapefruit in the process only to find a forgotten a seed. “Oh, there’s a seed.” I pick it out and toss it aside.
He rolls his eyes, his head flopping back against the pillow. “Oh, just a seed. I don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, stop. It’ll be fun.” I pause, trying to keep my smile at bay. “But I should warn you. The Internet said there might be a slight burning sensation the first time you pee after this.”
Both of his hands shoot to mine as he tries to yank the grapefruit off.
I stop him. “Don’t worry.”
“Hell no. I’ve never had the desire to find out what an STD feels like. We’re not doing this.”
“You haven’t had an STD before?”
I’m teasing, but again, he glares.
Before he can argue anymore, down I go.
After that, I try to do as Auntie Angel told me in the video and suck his shaft while twisting and turning and making a growling sound. Can we just pause here for a moment? Can we agree that the word shaft rates up there with moist and wanton?
Thank you. I’ll continue.
So while I’m simultaneously working the grapefruit up and down and mimicking the sound of a vacuum cleaner, Ridge says absolutely nothing in the way of wor
ds. He can’t stop laughing, though I’d like to add, his dick is hard as a rock, so I know his skeptical ass is enjoying this.
Let me tell you something else. It’s not as easy as she made it seem on the video, and I keep thinking maybe I should have just opted for the exploding mouth of whip cream because at least that would have tasted better.
But I’m not a quitter. I keep bobbing my head, sucking, gagging—because it’s bitter as fuck—and making that growling sucking noise the chick said to do.
After ten minutes, my hand’s tire, my arm hurts, Ridge is laughing so hard he can’t breathe at times and saying things like, “Luke, I am your father,” and I give up. I fucking give up and am near tears. Not because I’m emotional. I actually got some of the grapefruit juice in my eyes.
It’s not my thing and is too complicated trying to remember to twist and suck and not choke.
“That’s not even the correct line. So many people fuck it up.” I pause and run the back of my hand over my mouth. “Darth Vader actually says: No, I am your father. If you’re going to quote Darth Vader, get it right.”
“Fine. Got me on that one, but in A New Hope he says, ‘I have you now.’”
“And that means?”
He smiles. “I think you know.”
As I’m wiping off my face with the blindfold he ripped off because I just hoovered a tart dong and I’m drooling, Ridge still can’t stop laughing. He utters the word—get ready to throw up— “It felt. . . fleshy.”
Did you gag? I did. Let’s add fleshy to the list of words to never say again. Put it under shaft.
I place my hands on his bare thighs. “Don’t ever say fleshy again.”
“Don’t ever try to fuck me with a grapefruit again.”
We shake on it. “Deal.”
“What was with the sound?”
I shrug, picking pieces of grapefruit off my tongue. “I think it was supposed to be part of the experience.” I hand him my phone and show him the video.
