by Nikki Ash
One of the things I miss about home is playing ball with Cole. For hours, we would shoot hoops and bullshit. While the guys on the team are great, I miss our friendship. Lately, though, I’ve been thankful for the time apart. Since we hooked up with Delilah, I’ve replayed that night several times, and while that would seem like a normal teenage thing to do—fantasize about the beautiful woman I had sex with—my problem is that my fantasies aren’t about Delilah—they’re about Cole.
And just the thought of him has my dick hard as steel. My soap-covered hand instinctually grips my hard shaft as my thoughts go back to that night. Cole buck naked, standing between Delilah’s creamy thighs. Watching him as he stroked his long, thick cock a couple times before he sheathed himself.
My hand strokes my own cock as I remember watching, mesmerized, as he pushed himself into Delilah. I was so turned on watching him thrust in and out of her, I had to force myself to kiss her. And then when it was my turn to be with her, my eyes locked with Cole’s for a brief second, and I could be wrong, but I’m almost positive I saw the same look of want in his eyes that I felt.
My fingers tighten around my shaft, my dick now fucking my fist as my eyes close and I come to the memory of Cole as he dragged his eyes down my body, landing on my cock, and watched me fuck Delilah until I came. And in this moment, I know I have a major fucking issue. Because whether I like it or not, I am falling for one of my best friends—and it isn’t Delilah.
chapter seven
Delilah
“Cole is killing it,” my dad says from next to me, and I smile in agreement. My parents and I are sitting in the bleachers of our school gymnasium, watching Cole’s last basketball game before winter break, which begins in three weeks. Our basketball team is undefeated, and Cole is a lot of the reason for that. Xander might not be on the team anymore, but Cole has stepped up and the colleges are definitely taking notice. I hate that I was forced to miss several of his games this year, but I’m excited to get to watch him play today, especially since it might be the one and only game I attend this school year.
It’s been three months since I had my mastectomy, and thankfully it went smoothly, but I was in a lot of pain and stuck at home while recovering. Just as I feared, I feel like a vital piece of me is now missing. I’m extremely grateful to my mom who ordered me padded bras and a silicone insert for when I leave the house, but no amount of padding or silicone helps ebb the brokenness I feel as a woman. I’m aware one breast missing doesn’t take away my womanhood or make me any less of a woman, but knowing that doesn’t stop me from still feeling that way.
I’m officially on hospital homebound—meaning I’m still a student but I’m doing my schoolwork from home—which sucks but I’m feeling okay for the most part. Dr. Morton is allowing me to wait until after New Year’s to start my chemo, and they’re going to be using a newer drug that will decrease my chemo time by one-third. From what I’ve been told, there’s only a fifteen percent chance of me losing my hair—although, I try not to focus on percentages, since they never seem to be in my favor.
There’s only two minutes left of the game and we’re down by six. Cole has just stolen the ball from the other team and he’s dribbling down the court. Even after all these years of being best friends with Cole and Xander, I still have no clue what’s going on in the game other than the fact that they make a lot of shots into the hoop every game.
The other team is coming after him, and when two of the players try to stop him, he weaves around them both. Everyone screams and yells as he makes it almost to the basket. An opposing team player stops in front of him, his arms outstretched to block Cole from shooting. Cole looks like he’s going to go to the right but instead starts running to the left. He makes it barely a foot in that direction, when he stumbles and falls to the ground. The crowd gasps and the coaches go running toward him.
“What’s going on?” I ask my dad as I try not to think about the worst. It’s hard to see Cole with everyone surrounding him, so my mind is conjuring up horrible thoughts.
“It looks like he tripped, but he’s not getting back up,” my dad says. I stand, trying to get a glimpse of Cole, but I can’t. I feel my phone ringing in my pocket and when I check to see who’s calling, it’s Xander.
“Hey, I’m at Cole’s game and he fell.”
“I know. I got back from practice and was studying. They were playing the game on ESPN. The commentators are saying he might’ve torn his ACL or MCL. He was holding his knee.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I say dumbly.
“It means Cole might be badly injured. He might be out the rest of the year.”
“Oh no!” I gasp. The EMTs show up and put Cole onto a stretcher.
“Delilah,” my dad says, “Let’s head over to the hospital. Cole is eighteen, so you know the Carson’s won’t be going.”
“Hey Xander, we’re going to go to the hospital.”
“Alright, please keep me posted. I have a game tomorrow, or I’d find a way down there.”
“I’ll text you with any information we get. Stay focused and play safe.”
“Will do. Bye.”
We hang up, and my parents and I head over to the hospital. Luckily, Cole had put my dad down as his emergency contact, so we’re able to get updates. Cole tore his ACL, and as soon as the swelling goes down they can do the surgery. The issue is, with his state insurance, the surgery isn’t covered.
“I’ll cover it,” my dad tells the doctor.
“Sir, even with the surgery, there’s a chance he won’t play the same, and the chances of tearing your ACL again are even higher.”
“Basketball is his life,” Dad tells him. “Does he need the surgery to have a chance at playing again?”
“In my professional opinion, yes.”
“Then do the surgery. I’ll give billing my information.” I watch as my dad heads over to the billing department, and tears fill my eyes.
“He’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” my mom coos.
“I know. I’m just so lucky to have such amazing parents.” I give her a hug. “He’s not your guys’ responsibility, yet you’re paying for the surgery.”
“Cole and Xander might not biologically be ours, but they’re your best friends, and they have no one. They’re family.”
chapter eight
Cole
“Merry Christmas!” Delilah jumps onto the couch, and I groan in pain. “Oops! I’m sorry.” She shoots me an apologetic look before sitting at the opposite end. I’ve been confined to this damn couch for the last four weeks since my ACL surgery, so to say I’m not exactly feeling festive right now might be an understatement. All this “rest” is driving me mad. I’m finally able to apply light pressure to my knee, and in a few more weeks, I’ll begin physical therapy. According to my doctor, I’m looking at a minimum of eight to twelve months of no basketball, which means I won’t be getting picked up by any decent college to play, and even if I did, there’s a high chance of me getting reinjured. Fuck! Look at Derrick Rose. The only reason why the Bulls kept him on was because he had already proven himself. Me? I haven’t proven shit, and now I more than likely won’t have the opportunity to do so.
Since Mr. and Mrs. Carson pretty much made it clear they don’t have the time to deal with my injury, Delilah’s parents stepped in and insisted I come and stay with them while I’m recovering. Delilah’s mom even mentioned that she’s glad I’ll be here when Delilah starts her chemo next week. We both have a long road ahead of us, but at least we’ll be under the same roof.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas,” Xander’s voice echoes through the house, followed by the front door closing. Texas had a game yesterday, so he’s just now arriving, and since they don’t have a game until after New Year’s, he’s staying for the week. Because he has no vehicle, John, Delilah’s dad, insisted on driving to TU to pick him up. It’s times like these, when I remember what Delilah said about us becoming her family and know she wasn’t kidding.
/> “In here!” Delilah yells. John walks into the living room, followed my Xander, who is holding a small stack of presents. “Ohh! For me?” Delilah jumps back off the couch to snatch them, but before she can grab the gifts, Xander lifts them over his head where she can’t reach them.
“Hey!” She giggles. “Give me!” She jumps up and down, trying to reach Xander while he shakes his head, laughing.
“Xander, be nice to my little girl,” Joanne chides, walking over and giving him a kiss on his cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” he says back, then lowers the gifts, handing one to Delilah, to her parents, and then to me. “It’s not much.” He shrugs.
“Oh, stop,” Delilah says, sitting down on the couch opposite of me with her parents. When she opens the box, she gasps. “Oh, Xander!” Tears pool in her eyes as she lifts the framed photo out of the box. It’s a collage of pictures Xander has taken over the years. They’re all in black and white, and all of the three of us. When we were thirteen, Joanne was cleaning the house and pulled out the boxes of photos of Delilah. Xander mentioned he doesn’t have any photos because his dad never gave a shit enough to take any. The next day Joanne gave him a camera and told him it’s time he starts making memories. From that day forward, the camera went pretty much everywhere Xander went.
Delilah sets the gift down and stands up, throwing her arms around Xander. “I love it. Thank you.”
Joanne opens up their gift next and it’s a beautiful photo of Delilah and her parents from the Fourth of July barbeque they threw last year. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Joanne says, giving Xander a hug.
“Maybe you should consider majoring in photography,” John points out, also giving Xander a hug.
“Nah, that might take the fun out of it,” Xander jokes as he sits down on the same couch as me.
I open my present, and just like everyone else’s gift, mine is a framed photo as well. It’s a single image of Xander, Delilah, and me. It’s from the day Delilah found out she had cancer again, when Xander came up so we could be there for her. We made love to her that day, the three of us losing our virginity together. Afterward, Delilah insisted Xander take a photo of the three of us. She said she wanted one last picture before her life changed. In the photo, Delilah is grinning at the camera, and to those who don’t know her, she looks happy. But because I do, I can see the worry in her eyes and the fear written all over her face. Her cheeks are flushed from just having had sex. Xander is also looking at the camera, his broody-ass barely smiling. And me, I’m glancing at Xander. My stomach knots as I stare at the photo and force myself to shake off the feelings that overtake me every time I think about our one time together. We agreed it would only be once and we’d never talk about it again, but since that day, all I can think about is being with Delilah—and Xander—again.
“Thank you, man,” I say to Xander, praying my mixed emotions aren’t seeping through into my words.
“You’re welcome.” He nods slightly and gives me a small smile.
“Okay!” Delilah yells. “Let’s open the rest of the presents.”
chapter nine
Xander
“Hand over the bottle, mister.” Delilah lifts her hand and bends her fingers in a come-here gesture. Cole takes a swig of the expensive-as-fuck vodka that Delilah swiped from her dad’s liquor cabinet then hands it over to her. Delilah’s parents left a few hours ago for a business associate’s party in the city. Because it’s New Year’s Eve they decided to book a hotel room for the night, so they won’t be back until tomorrow. John is driving me back to my dorm in the morning since I have a practice in two days, a game in three, and my classes start back up next week.
“Do you think it’s wise to drown your sorrows in a bottle of liquor?” I ask as Cole takes the bottle back from Delilah and guzzles down a shot’s worth of alcohol.
“Um...I don’t really care.” Delilah shrugs and takes a sip. “I have one breast, and I start chemo in three days.”
“And I won’t be playing basketball for the foreseeable future. Life sucks.” Cole goes to take another sip but I grab the bottle from his hand before he can.
“Well, I only have one night left here before I go back to school, and I’d rather not spend it watching you two getting completely toasted.” I set the bottle down on the table.
“I’m barely tipsy!” Delilah giggles and leans over Cole to grab the bottle. She misjudges her reach and falls off the couch and into my lap.
“Really?” I ask dryly. I know she’s only had a couple shots worth but it’s clearly going straight to her head. “Let’s watch a movie.”
“Okay, fine,” Delilah says. “I’ll go make the popcorn.” She jumps up and runs into the kitchen while I go through the movies on the television, trying to find one to order. When I come across one that looks interesting enough,—something about a guy who is a champion bull rider—I ask Cole if he wants to watch it. When he says it sounds good to him, I click purchase.
Cole moves to the end of the couch to make room, and when Delilah comes in with a large bowl of popcorn in her hands, she sits in the middle, so I sit on the other end of the couch.
“Oh! I wanted to see this movie when it came out a couple years ago!” Delilah exclaims as the movie starts.
We’re probably a little more than halfway through the movie—which turned out to be some ridiculously sappy love story—I should’ve known better since there was a guy and girl in the image—when the main characters, Luke and Sophia, start removing their clothes. They end up in the shower, with the guy fucking her against the wall. The three of us are watching, and while none of us are saying a word, the sexual tension in the room is palpable.
“Am I the only one who wants to do it again?” Delilah blurts out, and my head whips around to her at the same time Cole’s does, our eyes locking.
“Do it again?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“Have sex,” she clarifies. “I mean...I know I’m missing a breast, but I could keep my shirt on.” Her voice is soft, insecurity dripping from each word. “I just...I enjoyed being that close with you guys. It hurt but at the same time it felt good, and I read that the next time won’t hurt.”
Turning my entire body to face her, my hand cups her cheek. “It wouldn’t matter if you had no breasts, you’d still be beautiful.” And it’s the truth. Delilah is a naturally gorgeous woman. She has beautiful brown eyes that shine with every emotion. Her body is beyond sexy with a soft yet flat stomach and a round, perfect ass. And her plump, kissable lips leave you wanting to press your mouth to hers over and over again. She’s never paid attention at school, but so many guys over the years have wanted to get between her legs. Cole and I have threatened the shit out of several of those fuckers who’d talk about wanting to take her out, knowing they just wanted to get in her pants.
“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.” She rolls her eyes and her fleshy lips turn into a pout. Without thinking, I lean in and press my lips to hers.
“You’re beautiful,” I say again. “I’ve thought about us all being together again more times than I can count, but do you understand if we do this, it will change everything?”
“Maybe that’s okay,” she says and turns her head to look at Cole. “None of us are dating anyone, so we aren’t hurting anyone.” She shrugs. “Sex is supposed to be with someone you love, and I love you two, and no matter where life takes us, I know I will always love you both.”
I glance over at Cole and see he’s frozen in thought, so I say what I’m thinking. “I love you too, sweet girl, and if this is what you want, I’m down, as long as we make one promise.”
“What’s that?” Cole asks, finally speaking.
“All of us or none of us.” My eyes lock with his.
“Agreed.” He nods his head, his gaze still on me.
“I agree as well,” Delilah adds.
“I can’t do shit now,” Cole says, looking down at his k
nee. “I’d have to wait until I have more range of motion in my knee.”
“Or...” Delilah says, bending over and rubbing her hand across Cole’s crotch. “You can sit right here while Xander and I do all the work.” Her voice is soft and seductive, and my dick twitches—only I’m not sure what I’m turned on over: the fact that Delilah is rubbing on Cole’s cock, or that she’s rubbing on Cole’s cock.
Instead of trying to figure out my feelings, I focus on Delilah as she lifts her legs up onto the couch and gets on all fours—her ass popping up in the air—while she undoes Cole’s belt.
My hands move to her hips, and I pull her tiny shorts down, taking her panties with them. She wiggles her ass playfully, and I slap one of her cheeks with my palm. It immediately turns red with my handprint as she lets out a low groan, telling me she likes what I just did. As a teenage guy who’s only had one sexual experience, I’ve watched my fair share of porn, so as I look at Delilah’s round ass in my face, my mind goes to every video I’ve ever watched, wanting to know if what I’ve seen in the videos will work in real life. If I spread her cheeks and lick her asshole, will she like it? Or if I separate her thighs and dip my head down, licking right up her slit, will she come as hard as the women in the videos? The last time we were together, I ate her out just like I’d seen, and holy shit, did Delilah come.
My eyes glance around her body to Cole, and I see his dick, hard as granite, in her fist. Her head lowers toward his cock and blocks my view, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining her lips wrapped around the head of his dick, sucking him off. And that thought alone has me wanting to be inside her tight cunt. But first, I need to get her off, because every video I’ve ever watched, every movie I’ve seen, has the guy making sure the woman is taken care of before he gets off.
