Welcome to E. Mayberry

by Chris Genovese

  “You don’t understand,” I said. “I guess maybe you do need to hear the rest.”

  “Then tell me.”

  I kissed him one more time and then sat back, sipped my whiskey, and went back to my story.

  “So as I was saying, I got zapped. Someone stopped me from leaving Erotic Mayberry. When I woke up, I was in a doctor’s office and a female doctor, Addie, the one I’d met at the party my first night in the neighborhood, was leaning over me, playing with my necklace. Bastian was behind her.

  I remember coming to my senses immediately when I saw him there. Anger hit me and I wanted to pummel him with both fists but I was strapped to a bed.

  “Keep him away from me,” I said.

  “Sunshine,” Dr. Addie said, “Relax. We’re almost done here and then you can go home with Bastian.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere with him,” I said.

  She smiled and her teeth were too white, almost blindingly white, and her eyes were a strange shade of grey that I’d never seen before. I wondered if she wore colored contacts. Her face wasn’t beautiful by any means but her eyes…they were captivating. She played with my necklace a little more, fumbling with the pendant, when suddenly a wave of euphoria washed over me. Total relaxation. Total clarity and happiness and all other feelings of joy went down my arms and down my legs and everyplace else.

  “Come here,” the doctor said to Bastian who moved closer to me.

  She took Bastian’s hand and intertwined her fingers with his, her hand on the back of his, and brought his hand between my legs.

  “Touch her here,” she said.

  Then she pushed his hand against my pussy and my body shook. I know how unbelievable this will sound but one touch at my pussy and I was coming. I screamed and I don’t mean yelled or cried out. I mean I fucking screamed like someone had shoved a hot coal up my ass. It was a scream of pure ecstasy.

  “Oh God!” I yelled. “Again, please!”

  I begged him to touch me like that again.

  “One more time,” the female doctor agreed.

  This time I felt his hand pull the elastic of my panties up and his hand slide beneath them. The cool touch of his fingers on my clit and the way he parted my lips did it to me again. I tried to lift up off the bed but I was strapped down. Tears flowed from my eyes as a second orgasm erupted from inside. Hot lava flowed from between my legs and Bastian wasn’t finished. He put two fingers inside and worked me from the inside.

  My head slammed back on the bed and I pushed down, trying so hard to fuck his hand. I wanted him deeper inside me. I couldn’t stop coming.

  “I think I’ll leave you two alone for a minute,” the doctor said as she walked out of the room. “This is the best part.”

  She closed the door with a click and Bastian unstrapped my hands.

  I slapped the shit out of him. I hit him so hard a welt raised up on his face and marks where my nails had dragged across him shown clearly. He was stunned.

  “You fucking asshole!” I yelled.

  I was so pissed at him. He’d been fucking Suzanne and I hadn’t forgotten it. Yet, I wanted him. I hated him. I despised him. But I needed him. I knew I wouldn’t be leaving Bastian. Had the doctor adjusted something on my necklace to make me behave this way? I’m sure she did, but I knew I had enough control to know that he’d hurt me. That hadn’t been taken from me. The pain was raw and real.

  But my give-a-damn seemed to be broken. It was replaced with a lusty desire to fuck. To fuck Bastian, to fuck Pasha, to fuck Marco and anything else that moved.

  Bastian was still looking down at me, bewildered, touching the tender grooves on his scratched cheek, when I grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face into my pussy. With one hand I held him in place while with the other I viciously attacked my waistband, pulling it down one leg and shimmying it off the other.

  I slapped the top of his head hard and he groaned with complaint. His response was biting down on my pussy. He actually bit down just above the clit and his bottom teeth slid up, taking my clit between his teeth where he sucked me hard and wiggled his tongue around.

  “Fuuuuuck!” I yelled.

  The necklace was set to some high frequency that kept me coming. Wave after wave of orgasm and all of it in his mouth. He didn’t hold back either. He tongued my pussy so fucking good I thought I might die. I honestly thought it might be some strange murder process in which your owner kills you by orgasm. Death by pussy eating couldn’t be the worst way to go.

  “I hate you!” I yelled at him. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

  His response was one long lick from my asshole all the way up into my lips where he ice-cream scooped at my clit.

  “Ohhh God!” I cried, tears running down my eyes again.

  He didn’t fuck me. I didn’t need him to. I’d come enough to last three weeks for any normal person and for a sex addict like me, it was enough to last the day.

  He took me home and as we drove back to our house, I felt the neighbors’ eyes watching me. In a community that small, news of an escapee would travel around quickly. Everyone would know. I would be THAT girl who didn’t appreciate Erotic Mayberry enough. Bastian seemed to read my mind.

  “You’re not the first person to try and run away from here,” he said. “And you won’t be the last. I told you. This place takes some getting used to, but I promise you this, even if you did make it out that gate, you’d be back here begging the gate guard to let you back in before week’s end. The world outside isn’t like this one. It’s hard to remember that from here but if you left, you’d recognize it and you’d want to come back.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said.

  “Fine,” he replied. “Let me show you something.”

  He drove past our house and right out the gate, passing the guard a wave, as he headed down the desert street that led only to and from Erotic Mayberry. I sat anxiously in the passenger seat, my panties soaked, wishing I could go home and take a shower.

  “You saw me fucking Suzanne,” he said.

  Wow. That was unexpected. Talk about facing the elephant in the room. In the car.

  “I did,” I admitted. “It was on TV. Which is the most humiliating part. I was at a fucked up Tupperware party and the host thought it would be fun to get me involved and her way of doing that was to show me and the rest of the party how my boyfriend looked fucking another woman.”

  “Boyfriend,” he repeated.

  “Yes,” I said, “Fuck this owner and pet bullshit. I love you, Bastian. This isn’t a game to me.”

  “Did I look like I was enjoying myself when you saw me fucking Suzanne?” he asked.

  “Yes, you sure did.”

  “I was,” he admitted.

  Fuck, his brutal honesty is way too fucking brutal.

  “Suzanne is and has always been great in bed,” he added. “And there’s a connection there that I wish I could tell you wasn’t. She was my pet. But more than that, I was in love with her at one point. But she’s not capable of loving someone in return. At least I don’t think so. I suppose I’m as close as she’s gotten to it. She’s very self-centered, very big on appearances, and she always hated being a pet. As soon as she had the opportunity to be an owner, she left me. With barely a goodbye.”

  “Sounds like lots of good reasons to be FUCKING her,” I said.

  “I have a problem,” he admitted.

  “Yeah, me too,” I said. “I’m a sex addict who tried to kill herself, remember?”

  “I found myself attracted to you for obvious reasons,” he said. “You’re an angel. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. That I’ve EVER seen. But you’re beautiful on the inside too. You care so much. Remember the conversation we had in the hospital about how you wish you’d spent more time helping others and that you’d love to go see the kids with cerebral palsy I worked with? That’s the kind of stuff that touches my heart.”

  “I hear you,” I said, fighting back tears. “I d
on’t understand why you would need any other woman. That’s why it hurts me. Don’t you understand? How did you feel when Suzanne chose to leave you? That’s how I feel now. I feel left behind, unworthy, not good enough to be your only one.”

  “It’s therapy for me,” he blurted out. “I’m fucked up. I’ve been fucked up since I was a kid. Nothing I can say right now will make sense to you but the short version of the story is I grew up in some fucked up situations. My dad was never in the picture. When my mom died, I was sent to live with my aunt. She was like most of the people in E. Mayberry. She had her sexual hang-ups. One of them seemed to be fucking her ten year old nephew. It’s sick, I know. But I was ten and she was beautiful and even though I knew it was wrong, I liked it and she enjoyed it. Eventually I was taken from her and thrown into an orphanage. I was twelve by then and for two years straight I’d explored things no kid my age should have explored. Sex wasn’t taboo to me. It was an experience, a way of life, and I loved it.”

  I was stunned. Here I’d grown up in a loving family and had my own sexual addictions, mostly from endless flirtation from older boys in the neighborhood. Nothing odd or dysfunctional.

  “I guess being so young and having the attention of an older woman fucked up my wiring or something. I was a hornball at a young age. At the orphanage, I’d do things with older girls. Older meaning thirteen, fourteen, all the way up to sixteen. Twice I ended up in a foster home. Once with three other foster kids. The real daughter of my foster mom was eighteen and had moved out on her own. She’d come over for Sunday dinner all the time and we hit it off. I started spending my after-school hours at the apartment she shared with two college roommates. By then I was sixteen so I was well aware of what I was doing. She was the one who introduced me to multiple partners. She brought a roommate in one time and told her friend she could make me do anything, that I liked her that much. She was right. I was smitten. She told me to masturbate in front of them, so I did, and before long we were engaged in a threesome. She brought other girls around sometimes, all interested in seeing the street rat her mom had picked up.”

  My story seemed so childish compared to his and suddenly I felt guilty for being so judgmental.

  “How did you end up a doctor?” I asked. “Seems like you’ve done well for yourself.”

  “Well,” he said with that chuckle of his. “I got that girl pregnant, the eighteen year old daughter. Even then life seemed so important to me. Her mom found out and got rid of me. I couldn’t go back to an orphanage so I moved in with one of the college girls I’d met through my…

  “Baby mama,” I joked.

  I know. Not really a laughing matter.

  “Not really,” he said. “My baby mama, Desiree was her name, had an abortion. I found out about it through my new girlfriend. Girlfriend is kind of a bad word for it. She was one of Desiree’s horny college friends. She had a dorm room all to herself and I had no place to stay so I hung around there and kept her…satisfied.”

  I’d had a life where sex was something I simply enjoyed and couldn’t get enough of. He’d had a life where he’d used it to survive. Fucking his aunt because he was told to and fucking college girls so he’d have a place to stay.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Aren’t college girls able to have sex all the time? I mean come on. There are horny dudes on every campus using date rape drugs and stuff. I can’t imagine it’s hard to get laid.”

  “She was a virgin,” Bastian said. “She didn’t even have sex with me. I did a lot of other things for her, just about everything else you can imagine, but she was a virgin. Probably the most sexually active virgin on the planet, but she wasn’t having sex that’s for sure. We were more like really good friends with extraordinary benefits.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t,” he said.

  “Enlighten me,” I replied.

  “Seeing her go through school filled me with a drive to do the same. She was studying medicine so I read her books. Thanks to the online world I was able to fulfill my sexual addiction and make lots of money on the side. Older women love young men.”

  Especially ones who look like you.

  “So you became a gigolo?” I said with a loud hoot.

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “That sounds like such an old fashioned word,” he said, “but, yes. I did. I sold my body to pay my way through med school. My girlfriend dropped out and eventually went on to be a waitress at a strip bar, still a virgin. We kept in touch. I went on to become the amazing doctor I am today, left that gigolo stuff behind, but I couldn’t cure my sexual cravings. I’d had such an outlandish childhood that having a normal relationship didn’t do it for me. I could care about a woman and feel something for her on an intimate level, but sexually, I needed variety.”

  I actually understood where he was coming from. As much as I thought I wanted to be in a relationship with one man, it had never worked. As an adult actress, I found that variety he was talking about and then came home to my boyfriend. That worked for me. So why was I so angry at Bastian for doing the same thing? Maybe I could learn to appreciate what we had going for us.

  “I began going to swinger clubs and going home with couples, you know the kind where the man likes to see his wife with another man. Those and female couples, lesbians who occasionally missed having a cock in the relationship. No strings attached. It was through one of these encounters that a man told me about this neighborhood. I’d just finished fucking his wife when he thanked me and complimented me on my staying power.”

  I laughed out loud and Bastian did too.

  “Crazy, I know. But that was my life. Well, he told me I should check out Erotic Mayberry. That he had a brother living there and didn’t know shit about it, but if I wanted to know more he could have his brother contact me. I had to go through all kinds of tests and evaluations, I had to donate a million dollars to buy a home, and I had to bring a pet in with me. Or at least within six months of moving in.”

  I’d never heard anyone talk of how they entered as an owner.

  “I knew my friend was still working as a waitress and was struggling a lot. She had no attachments to the outside world. So I brought her in as a pet,” he said.

  He didn’t have to say it. I knew what he meant and I was stunned.

  “Suzanne was that friend,” he said. “She came in as my first pet.”

  I understood their connection now. They had a long history.

  “And she left you?” I asked. “How does that even happen?”

  “The Harvest Festival,” he said, “Which is coming up soon. There’s a drawing, like a raffle, and the winning pet is given a home and allowed to be an owner. I thought she’d turn it down. I thought she wanted to be with me, but she won and she chose to be an owner herself.”

  “I see.”

  “And I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he said. “It’s not what you think. It’s strictly physical. I’ve been doing this since I was ten years old. It’s all physical. I don’t think it was ever that deep with Suzanne. She’s beautiful but with her it was always like I was trying to do her a favor, bringing her into this lifestyle to help her escape the shitty one she was living. I think she sensed that too and wanted to get away and do something for herself. But she calls me up sometimes and asks me to fuck her. Just like that. She calls and says, “Come fuck me, please. I’m having a rough day.”

  “I’m assuming you were the one to take her virginity?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “And for that reason, she identifies with me on a different level. Sex is more to help her cope with life than it is an act of love. It’s something only I can help her with. When she was in college I was her first with most other sexual stuff so I think she feels safe with me.”

  “What about Pasha?” I asked.

  “He fucks her too,” he said, “The kid is a beast in the sack.”

  He laughed.

  “And she uses him plenty,” he added. “But with them it’s purely ph
ysical, a need to come. When I’m there it’s more like therapy.”

  “Do you love her?” I asked.

  “In a different way I suppose,” he admitted. “But not in-love like I am with you. It’s more like an old friend, a sisterly kind of love.”

  “But with fucking involved,” I was quick to add.

  “Yes,” he said. “I know that must have hurt you when you saw us on TV. If you could try to imagine it like someone might have felt seeing you on screen when you were acting. It’s that same kind of relationship. Only you got paid to do it and I do it as a way to, I don’t know, take care of my ridiculous urges.”

  “But it’s so fucking one-sided,” I said. “I’m a pet. You’re an owner. That means you get to fuck whoever you want whenever you want. I have to be given permission or invited into it by an owner. What kind of shit is that?”