self discovery after trauma therapy

Short story by Ren

I can see the bags under Allison’s eyes and I hate it. She waddles into our cramped TV room, sidestepping a pile of romance books she’s left near the hallway, knocking over a picture of Dad and I on a fishing trip together that sits on the entryway table next to our keys. I pause my game to reach behind me and lift the picture back up, my arm momentarily blocking Allison’s path to the couch as she tightens the knot on her grey Moby wrap, a long piece of stretchy fabric that now swaddles our tiny perfect Arya against her chest. She settles down next to me to feed the baby. “Hey my girls” I coo and squeeze Allison’s arm in support. She doesn’t react. Her shirt is stained, her hair an unwashed mess. 

“Call of Duty again? What happened to that other game you were playing? At least that one had a story I could watch.” She says quietly. She sounds tired. She’s always tired lately. 

“Oh, Expedition 33. Yeah, I’m just unwinding after work.” I say, distracted. I’m in the Terminal map, lining up my scopes on another player running past. I hear her sigh. “What’s up? You ok?” I ask, half in my living room, half in a war zone.

“We’re almost out of diapers again.”

“Yeah ok I’ll get some tomorrow.” I say. “Yes!” I exclaim happily as I land the shot. Arya jumps and starts crying. Shit. Her tiny face looks hilariously furious at me and I almost chuckle before I spot a matching expression on the woman holding her. 

“Goddamnit Jackson! Not tomorrow, NOW.” She commands as she adjusts Arya back into the wrap. My eyes linger on her lips. Allison is hot when she's angry, and I'll take fire in her eyes over the dull exhaustion I usually get lately. 

“Why don’t I take Arya, and you can get the diapers? That way I can relax a bit.” I chuckle and add, “You and the diapers.” An inside joke, but I realize suddenly, a mistake. I feel her angry stare lock onto me like the sniper scope in my game. I would reflect on how smouldering she is without meaning to be if I wasn't getting agitated.

She steadies her aim, and fires, “Because one of us got a full night's sleep last night and the other one was up with Ariadne” She’s been punctuating conflict with our daughters full name, a premonition I imagine, for our baby girl’s misadventures to come.

“Hey that’s not fair, I have a regular job, Allison! I have to sleep.” 

She doesn’t respond, instead sitting very still on our faded blue couch, her eyes watering. “I’m not ok Jackson. I need more. I’m nursing a newborn with a partner that has no idea how to help. I’m exhausted. God damnit Jackson I feel like a fucking ghost. And DON’T–” She punctuates this word with her finger pointed at me, “tell me to just ‘let you know’ when I need help. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.” The last part she whispers, the fight leaving her. I miss how she was before Arya showed up. Parenthood was supposed to make us a family, but it feels more like it’s tearing Allison apart, leaving me with these hollow pieces of her and only memories of the sweet, smiling woman I married. I almost miss lugging in those boxes for her weird book she wrote about dragons that had made much more money than either of us thought it would. Almost. As I leave to get the diapers, I close the door gently so I don’t startle Arya a second time.

—-------------------------------------------------

“Hey mom, I called because I wanted to ask you–” I start but she interrupts. 

“Jackson! How’s our little baby girl doing? Oh you wanna talk to Jim? Dad talk and all that. Hang on a tick, JIM!” She shouts loud enough that I pull the phone away from my ear. 

“No mom I actually–”

“Hey Jack, how's the new family, son?” My dad’s deep voice takes over the call, replacing my mother’s honey with gravel and gasoline. I can picture him instantly, the very poster of classic american manliness, all muscle and beard and grease stained pants. “Are you loving it?” I can hear his smile. 

“Well actually… no Dad. Allison is really struggling and I don’t really know what to do. She’s not sleeping and it seems hard for her. Was it hard like this for you guys?” I ask. 

“Oh it’s always hard,” Dad says, “They get used to it you know. Allison probably just needs some space. Girls are made for this sort of thing, best to just stay out of their way!” He laughs at himself and continues, “She’s a smart girl that Allison, I always liked her. She’ll make a great mom.” 

I breathe out. It’s nice to hear his voice, it’s steady. I always wished I had a voice like Dad’s. I wander around our tiny living room and pluck a string on my dusty acoustic guitar in the corner. “Yeah ok. She snapped at me today after work.”

“During your call of duty time? Oh that’s tragic!” He laughs again, “A man’s gotta be able to relax after a day of work! How’s that job treating you anyway? I bet it’s a nice escape from the hen house at least.”

It’s not. It’s hard to like inquiries about hardware failures, risk assessments and legal complications. Everytime I’m in the office it feels like I’m missing everything. “Yeah it’s nice.” I say, as I pass Allison’s small desk, notes spread over it next to the pink highlighter she used to write “Under the Dragon Wing” on a post it note.

“She’s just adjusting son, you’ve got a good girl, she’ll manage, it’s not all that hard really. She’s right where she belongs now. I bet she can change those diapers now!” Dad says. The last part is a joke. She’s a smart girl. Allison once asked my Dad to change Arya’s diaper. The newborn returned with a backwards diaper that was falling off. My Dad taught me how to disassemble engines. He was clever and proud of it. It was clearly intentional, and we all knew it. Allison happily thanked him, and took Arya. The diaper leaked later and Mom had helped to clean. In the chaos, Allison handed a pee soaked Arya to Dad again, and asked if he’d change her diaper a second time. By the fifth time Allison exclusively asked Dad for help, he looked put out, but Arya’s diaper was on correctly. I had never in my life seen anyone manage my father like that. And then that night…

She’s a smart girl.

“Smart woman, you mean.” I mutter. 

“What’s that?” Dad asked. 

“Can I talk to mom?” I ask quickly.

“Oh sure bud, hold on.” 

A pause and then my mother’s honeyed voice is back, “Hi sweetie.”

“Was it hard for you? With me when I was a baby?” I ask. I expect a quick answer. Some variation of what my dad said, that she was a natural mother, that it was easy. That all of this was natural. I wait for her to tell me how blessed she was and how beautiful I was and how it all worked out.

Instead my mothers voice quietly says, “I’ll never forget how hard it was.”

Then I ask a question I didn’t even know I had, “Did you wish dad helped more?”

“Yes.” she whispers, then “but don’t tell him that.” and she chuckles. She tells me how she was so tired she didn’t even know what she wanted or needed, how hard it was to feed me sometimes, apparently I was picky about bottles, but that I slept well, and she was grateful for that. 

“Women go it alone, in the beginning. We learn how to survive, and then we pick up the pieces of ourselves after. It’s how it always is, being a woman is hard. Allison is strong, but if I had a piece of advice, it would be to help her. Do more than you think, and don’t ask what you’re supposed to do.”

“Ok but I am helping Mom!” I say. I want to stop myself but it all comes pouring out, “I’m the one working. She stopped to take care of Arya. It’s not like I can breastfeed, and Allison is dead set on not using formula right now. I feel like if I help, she’ll just tell me I’m doing it wrong. I do need her to tell me what she wants, I’m not a goddamn mind reader!” I pluck at the guitar again, letting the twang punctuate my words.

“Stubborn like your father.” Mom chuckles. It feels worse than if she had yelled.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your father knows how to change a diaper sweetheart.” I don’t know what to say to that. There’s a bitterness in mom’s voice that surprises me, punching a tiny hole in my memories of them together. 

—-------------------------------------------------

I’m on my phone in the bathroom catching a moment of solitude. I hear Arya crying again. There are two blue diaper caddy bags tied up next to me. She’ll be ok… right?

She’s right where she’s supposed to be. 

Am I right where I’m supposed to be? I make good money, I have a family now. I love my wife, so why does something feel wrong? It’s like I’m pushing against a current, while everyone is telling me to just swim harder. 

My phone is a cacophony of stimulus I can bury myself in for a few moments. Allison sent me a message at 3 AM this morning. Sorry for snapping at you. I’m just tired. I miss writing. Dad sent me a gif of a man dropping his smartphone on a baby, the point of which is a little lost on me. Mom sent me a heart emoji. I scroll tiktok. There are some guitar videos that make me ache a little, and some odd cat videos I’m getting because Allison finds them hilarious and I used to show her ones I thought she’d like. She finds pet birds even funnier, and I get a few of those too. There’s one of a cockatoo whistling the theme to My Neighbor Totoro that makes her cry for reasons neither of us can understand. 

There’s a video titled, “My girl needs a strong man” that shows a man in dark clothing and sunglasses coming home to a smiling woman in a sundress, lifting her up and carrying her down a hallway. The implication is that he’s come home from work, and they’re about to have sex. I watch it loop five or six times because it confuses the hell out of me. Why was this on my For You Page? I take a closer look and realize it’s an ad for a “men’s wellness” brand that sells clothing and supplements. Oh god, gross. I get a little turned on by the woman, her dress is revealing, her breasts half out. Man I am pent up lately. I can’t stop looking at her, and I set my phone down and rub my temple. When was the last time Allison and I had sex? Then I remember, it was at my parents, after Allison had managed to get Dad to help with changing diapers. I was desperate for her that day, I practically attacked her that night in the guest room. I hadn’t felt that way since then. I guess Allison isn’t the only one who’s tired.

I hear a crash and bolt out of the bathroom. I find Allison sitting on the kitchen floor, her head buried in her arms. I fear the worst until I see Arya laying on her play mat, perfectly safe and happy. There’s milk on the kitchen floor, and a pumping bag. Allison is sobbing loudly, big shaking cries as all of her pain pours out of her. I stand stunned for a moment, watching her. 

Allison isn’t settling, she’s breaking. Somehow, I wonder if my dad would approve.

She’s right where she’s supposed to be. 

Fuck that.

I sit in the milk with her and hold her. Her abrupt sobs are infectious and I let my own tears drop next to hers. The smell of the milk is sweet and it’s warm on my legs. She shakes for a few minutes longer. A knot loosens just a little, deep in my chest. “I’m sorry.” I whisper. Allison lets out a huge sigh and wipes her eyes. I can feel her finally relax. “I want you to go get some sleep. I’ll handle Arya for the night.” She protests and asks questions and finally I convince her. A well rested Allison would never be this flexible, but she’s too exhausted to argue for long. She leaves and I pray she’s actually sleeping.

—-------------------------------------------------

It’s two in the morning. Arya has been screaming for twenty minutes. If I thought her scrunched up angry face was funny before, I don’t now. I’m convinced the moby wrap requires an incantation only women know to operate, so my solution is to angrily throw it onto the stained wood dining table in a heap. I’m holding Arya in my left arm while I frantically get pumping bags out of the freezer. I realize I don’t know how much Arya eats at one time. I need a way to warm up the milk from frozen and it seems like nothing will work fast enough. Allison said not to microwave the bags. There’s a device on the counter that seems to be a bottle warmer, with water in it. I try turning it on, but the light flickers and dies and I’m not sure why, so I stupidly flip the device over to look at the cord, spilling water everywhere. “Fuck!” I curse to no one. Arya’s wails take on a new anxiety and her stress seeps into my skin. “I know Ariadne, I’m trying, baby girl!” I feel like I’m saying it to myself more than her. 

Maybe Dad was right after all. 

Eventually, I stop moving and let out a long sigh. “God damnit.” I whisper. I walk into our bedroom to find a pile of blankets. At first I assume Allison has woken up, but I realize I can see a lock of dark hair peaking out from her green striped cave of warmth. Under the cloud of fabric I spot earplugs in her ears. The guilt rips into me as I rock her awake. “I’m… I’m sorry, it’s the bottle warmer, it wouldn’t –” She sits up quickly, grabs Arya, places the baby on her breast in one smooth motion and all at once the crying stops, replaced by little hums as Arya drinks. The quiet feels too heavy to carry and I slump down with the weight of it.

“It’s fine.” Allison’s voice is flat. She might as well stab me in the chest. I failed. 

“Well that’s not fair, I can’t do that.” I joke, gesturing to the two of them. Neither of us laugh.

—-------------------------------------------------

“Morning.” Allison says through a yawn, looking marginally less ghost-like than yesterday, punctuated by her pink crop top. I can see her midriff as she reaches into our kitchen cabinets for a coffee mug, her stretch marks wiggling with her movement. I want to grab her hips with both hands and feel my fingers squeeze into her. She notices the coffee that’s already made. I stayed up and prepared for this moment. 

“I’ll take her.” I say and I make a show of tying the moby wrap around myself. It took three different YouTube videos, but now I know how to overlap it, that it needs to feel impossibly tight at first. I settle Arya into it and she looks up at me with her big brown eyes and I melt a little. She’s so warm against my chest. She looks so much like Allison, but her tiny wispy curls are mine. I know one day, I’ll be the one teaching her how to take care of that unruly hair. I imagine myself brushing my daughters hair and my face gets hot, tears asking to escape. Her eyes look right into mine, and then around the room, endlessly curious. Allison is watching me as she pours herself a cup of coffee. 

“Can you show me how to use the bottle warmer? I tried last night but it wouldn’t turn on all the way.” I ask. Allison lets out another yawn and stretches. Her shorts hike up and I stare at her ass. I consider slapping one of her cheeks. It would piss her off. Maybe I want that, I think, and then roll that thought around when I lock eyes with her, caught. She watches me a moment before turning away and saying, “I meant to tell you, was too tired. That outlet has a breaker on it. It’s the only spot the warmer will fit but it trips the breaker every so often. Doesn’t happen a lot. Bad luck.” She takes a sip out of her “shut up and write” mug from the local meetups she used to go to, and lets out a satisfied hum. She shows me how to work the bottle warmer, then how much she usually gives Arya. She shows me how to tie the diaper caddy bags and I take out the extra ones. She shows me the baby monitor, unopened in the box. She shows me what baby supplies can go in the dishwasher, and I notice she’s loaded the knives blade side up. “So they wash better,” she says. I don’t argue, even though I will never load them that way. I stare at those knives wondering if I married a crazy person as she shows me the nursing pillow, so I know how to remove the cover to clean it. I take it all in. I’m wired and behind on sleep. This morning I demanded paternity leave, something my workplace discouraged me from taking. It’s just a few weeks, but it’s something. 

Following Allison around, listening as she calmly gives me instructions, that strange knot in my chest loosens more. It’s a tightness I think has always been there, telling me how things are supposed to be, a template given to me by my parents. I feel Allison’s voice winding itself in the gaps of the tangle inside of me, prying me open. As we talk about laundry detergent and the diaper caddy, I linger on the light hitting her skin in golden patches, the loose braid she’s tied her hair into, the way her nails tap on items as she talks. We step around one of her book piles in the hall and I notice the tabs sticking out of them. This moment feels mundane and magic and I sink into it and feel Arya’s warmth against my chest echoing a warmth that fills me from the inside. Joy. I’m feeling joy. 

—-------------------------------------------------

I haven’t talked to my dad in a couple months. I have talked to mom and asked her more questions. Pieces of my childhood have started to fall into place, forming a much darker picture than I had originally thought. It makes me terrified and peaceful at the same time. Allison has Arya on the couch next to me. I’m playing Call of Duty, just finishing up a match. She’s quiet. When the match is over I set my controller down and cross the room to grab the dusty guitar in the corner. Sitting down across from Allison, I pluck at it experimentally. It’s out of tune, so I get to work on it as Allison finishes up and puts Ayra down to sleep next to us in a little pack n’play we got at the local children’s consignment. “I know you’ve been poking around my book collection.” She says. I look at her while I turn the pegs and listen to the strings. She’s right. Now that I stay up at night with Arya sometimes, I got curious and started reading some of Allison’s romance books. “Find anything interesting?” Her whole face lights up, the bags under her eyes gone. Her hair is clean and she’s wearing her favorite oversized black T-shirt with a long haired cat wearing a tiara, typing onto a desktop computer with the words “I AM YELLING, CARL!” written under it. It’s from her new favorite book series that she’s been begging me to read for over a month now. 

“You mean the book with the guys who fuck constantly and turn into snakes? Or did you mean the one with the alien men that have a barb on their junk? Or maybe you mean the one where she summons a demon.” 

She laughs. “My book is just as weird.” She walks over and grabs one with a skull on the cover, flipping through it. “Any thoughts?”

“You bookmarked a bunch of sex scenes, was that research? What um…” I set my guitar down and shuffle a little, nervous, “What do you get out of it? I mean the monsters and dragons and stuff?”

“It wasn’t research at first. I mean I just liked having those scenes for when I wanted to reread them and feel…”

“Horny?”

 Her cheeks go pink and she looks away. “Yeah.”

“But why monsters?”

She thinks for a minute and puts her hands in her lap, sitting criss-crossed. “I think it’s what being with a man feels like. Men are scary, big, unpredictable. You’re unreadable and confusing.” I wince, imagining my dad’s imposing figure, another thing I’ve inherited from him. I don’t know if I want to be scary, big and unpredictable. “But you’re also beautiful and alluring, comforting and firm. I think sometimes being with a man feels like being with a dragon, or a bear.” I look down at my hands and flex them, pondering what she’s said. I can’t see it, but I think I get it. I certainly relate to the fascination with our differences, how soft Allison is, how wide her hips are, how her back bends and arches. How wet and warm she gets… fuck.

“Do you masturbate? I mean have you, since?” I ask.

Before she answers, Allison stands up and rolls the pack-n’play down the hall. Arya sleeps for longer now, but is still easy to wake. The pack-n’play has wheels that make it easy to move around as long as we’re careful. It’s a funny boundary, one that doesn’t matter now, but will and maybe the distance is more for us to feel like adults than for Arya to feel like a baby. She knocks over one of her books and I hear her curse quietly and tiptoe back. “Yes.”

“How often?” I ask, rubbing my hands together.

“You first.” She says and looks at me. My heart beats faster. 

“N-Not often, maybe like once or twice a week, but I didn’t in the beginning when things were harder, even though I wasn’t helping as much.” Did I just stutter? Get it together.

“Oh.” She says and looks sheepish, her cheeks going red and she curls up tighter. 

“Oh is that more than you?” I ask “I mean that’s pretty typical right?”

“Um…I do it every day.” She says, “Sometimes twice.”

What? My thoughts pick up speed as that revelation hits me. I imagine her hiding in the bathroom with her vibrator muffling moans while I’m out here playing video games. I’m annoyed and aroused at the same time. 

“Oh. Since when?”

“Since I was fifteen.”

“No I mean, when Arya was new?”

“I think I took a two week break.” I laugh involuntarily at that, my eyebrows going up. She chuckles but I can see she’s still nervous. She couldn’t shower, but she could do that. Her eyes dart sideways towards her bookshelf as she bites her lip. Her cheeks flush. 

“Hold on.” I say, setting my guitar down and standing up. In the past I haven’t been interested in Allison’s sex toys, but right now I have an idea I can’t shake and I’m in the bathroom before I have time to second guess myself. Maybe I’m coming off as desperate, but I don’t care. I only ever see one toy plugged into the wall. It’s pink and has a hole on the end of it. I have a vague idea of what that hole is for. I know it must be her favorite. I grab it and bring it into the living room. I hand it to her. “What’s your favorite sex scene in these ridiculous books?” I ask. She points to a book, then she points to a labeled scene.

“This one, but you can’t make fun of it.” She says sternly. Fuck it’s hot when she looks at me like that. Really hot. We sit across from each other, and I tell her to use her toy, and I start reading aloud. The man in this scene has some sort of psychic connection with the woman, and can literally read her thoughts. He’s also quite aggressive and controlling, and he turns into a giant werewolf halfway through the scene. It is sweet in it’s own strange way as the characters open up emotionally to each other. I've never seen male arousal described as “aching.” This was clearly written by a woman. I try not to laugh, keeping my voice serious, and I forge ahead.

Allison’s desire opens like a daisy to the sun, slow at first but then undeniable. She pulls her grey sweatpants down and nestles the toy under her red lacy underwear without removing them. I hear the buzzing, suctioning sound of the toy as she wiggles herself around trying to get just the right access to her clit. I see it in her face when she finds it, her expression relaxes, her eyebrows go up, the flush in her cheeks deepening. I'd prefer it was my tongue on that spot, tasting her sweet pussy but I can tell how much she's enjoying herself right now. We used to find each other in the dark after work, making quick work of our needs before collapsing into sleep. Sometimes I knew it was quite good for her, the sounds she used to make were ones I doubt she could fake, but often those sounds were quieter, and she’d disappear into the bathroom afterwards. Now, I can see her clearly in the warm glow of lamps she collected from antique shops, her skin a pale caramel that makes me lick my lips between sentences as she locks those dark eyes on me again. She closes her eyes, then opens them over and over riding the slow building waves of pleasure and her expression changes. 

I’ve seen that expression before, when was that? Then I remember.

That night at my parent’s. It wasn’t Allison's ability to manipulate my mountain of a father, it was that look she gave me. When no one could see her, she flashed me a smug grin that said, Yes, I know exactly what I’m doing, and I’ll win. It was a quiet confidence that made me shiver, and those eyes held the same confidence now, telling me that she knew what she wanted, and she would take it. I read the last couple of sentences, no longer incredulous at the subject matter as goosebumps cover my arms. 

She pulls forward, slaps the book out of my hand, and kisses me with a groan, pushing her tongue into my mouth and licking the inside of it aggressively, one hand still between her legs as the buzzing continues. I pull her into me, desperately for skin and those fucking hips and we tangle together on the couch, her legs restricted by her sweatpants still holding her thighs on either side of her arm. She makes a frustrated sound and stops her vibrator but I grab her wrist. “No.” I say. This close, I can smell her arousal. I need to fuck her. I need my cock buried deep in her hot cunt and I need to feel her squeeze around me. I need to see her eyes roll up when I do it. If I’m this large imposing bear as Allison describes me, then she is something far more powerful. I become single minded and I look into her blazing eyes. That expression snuffs out any hope I have of control and I lay very still, my heart hammering in my chest. What is happening?

She resumes what she started and I help her with her pants with shaking hands, pulling my shirt off and then my boxers, revealing how hard I am. It usually takes a little attention to get me to this point. Allison notices and stops her vibrator, throwing it next to her book and then rakes her gaze over me silently. I’m naked under her while she’s still half clothed and I feel vulnerable and exposed and I love it. I know she loves my cock. Now I want her to use it.

She straddles my chest so I can see just how soaked her underwear has become. She points to the red lace and says, “Take these off” with the same biting command in her voice as when she told me to go get diapers. I pull her underwear down slowly, tempted to pull forward into her pussy, but what I want more is to hear her tell me to. Instead, she removes her Dungeon Crawler Carl shirt and bra, her perfect, swollen breasts bouncing into view and wiggles down between my legs, licking the precum off of me and I let out a groan. God, that first touch of her tongue right on the tip is always so good. I don’t normally make sounds during sex and Allison notices the change and glances up at me.

“Interesting.” She says. I let out a whimper in response. A whimper. I’ve never whimpered in my life, but I can't remember when I've been this aroused and not grabbed her and buried myself in her. The grin I see on Allison’s face in response makes me twitch, it feels like all of my blood is down between my legs right now. She seems to know the effect she’s having because she stops her tongue swirling much sooner than I'd like. She rises up above me, looking down at me like a lion regarding it’s prey. “Don’t. Move.” She commands. I nod quickly. I couldn’t move if I wanted to at this point. Allison’s orders don’t so much wind their way into that loosened knot in my chest so much as shove their way inside, forcing her will into me in the most delicious way, one I’m struggling to understand at the moment. I just know I feel so good I want to live here on this couch with her over me forever, staring up at her stretch marks and her plump breasts and full lips and her ruthless gaze. She slowly lowers herself onto me and I slide all the way to the hilt on the first try. It surprises both of us. It usually takes a little work to bury myself fully but this feels….amazing. Finally. She moves her hips so slowly I start to unravel, I can't take it.

“Allison, you’re killing me here. I’m gonna lose it.” I whine. She smiles like she’s been waiting for it. 

“When I say stop, you fucking stop, ok?” She says. I don’t entirely know what she means by that but I nod, my mind pleading for whatever she has in mind next. “Go ahead then, lose it.” She says. I need no more encouragement. I grab her hips hard, and kick the coffee table out of the way while I hold her on my cock. There's no chance I'm leaving this hot vice pulsing around me. Unless she tells me to. I pin her to the shaggy green Ikea carpet and find a quick rhythm, pounding into her and reveling in the yelps that come out of her. I’m really starting to lose control now. We’re both rough and wild, kissing deeply through grunts and moans. She grabs my curls and pulls hard. The pain heightens my pleasure and I log that somewhere in the part of my brain trying to make sense of what's happening. I like it when Allison is bossy. I like pissing her off a little. I like it when she uses me. I like it when she pulls my hair. 

We roll together, tumbling into her bookshelf and books rain down on me, hitting my back and falling onto the floor. “Ow, fuck!” I exclaim and in some small revenge, I bite into her shoulder. She’s moaning way too loud, but I could give a fuck about waking up the baby at this point. Suddenly I hear her say, “Stop.”

I almost can’t. It takes so much focus to listen. I’m slowing more than stopping when suddenly I lift up and something warm and wet sprays all over my face. “Oh my god I’m sorry!” She says as she wipes my face and starts giggling. It’s milk. Her breasts must have reacted to all the friction and sprayed me. I start laughing and lick my lips. It tastes like extra sweet almond milk. I like it, but that may be for other reasons. We both stay there connected to each other, I can feel her pulse around me now and then as we break into uncontrollable laughter… I can tell Allison is on the edge of climax and embarrassment. I can see it in the way her eyes rake over me hungrily, and I intend to feed that hunger before it dissipates. I take one of her breasts in my mouth, suck on her perfect erect nipple and drink more of her milk, the sweet smell of it hitting me as her body responds to my sucking and it shoots straight into the back of my mouth. She writhes and moans, pushing her hips into me again. Ok, she likes that.

I lift up slowly, letting it drip down my chin to say, “It’s quite alright” and look up at her. That lion’s glare stares back at me. “Slow.” She says. I start moving again in and out, relaxing into it. I watch myself disappear into her, then come out covered in her arousal. I see her stretch for me with every slow thrust. My groans soften, my eyes glaze. I’m on top of her, but I feel more like I’m kneeling at her feet, praying to this goddess that surrounds me, her will coiling around my mind and puppeting me. My cock belongs to her. A euphoria fills me and I start losing myself completely. “Stop.” She whispers. 

“Yes maam.” I whisper back. She pulls my head down to her breast again and I drink her milk. All of her is warm and wet. She instructs me to speed up, and I wonder if she’ll let me finish this time. I wonder if I want to, I’ve stopped caring. She holds my head there, moaning and wriggling under me, a smile across her face and she says, “Good boy.”

“Oh fuck Allison!” I exhale as the pleasure slams into me, those two words starting a wave that is agonizingly slow at first and then violent, ripping my orgasm from me and pushing it straight into her. I see her head throw back and feel her own orgasm pulse around me, and then out onto the carpet under us. I hold her through her convulsions until we collapse tangled together surrounded by colorful books with tabs sticking out of them, like two vines with flowers blooming. Neither of us move for several minutes as my mind returns to normal. Tears brim in my eyes and I feel confused but deeply satisfied at the same time. I kiss her cheek and she cups my head in both of her hands and looks up at me. “I love you.” She says, her own eyes watery.

“I…I love you too.” I say. “What the hell was that?” 

She chuckles, “That was great.” She says through a huge sigh of satisfaction. 

Book is chugging along. Here are some excerpts from my terrible first draft:

"I’m speedrunning my own oblivion. The more I try to fight my fate, the faster it slams into me. I’m going to have to visit mom, and who knows what that means. I’m afraid that if I go into the fae wilds again, I’ll never come back, and now that Leo is here, I want to come back. I have this strange feeling that Leo is making me tethered, more real. Maybe he can help me with this Isaac problem."

-------

“I should kill him.”

We sit in silence for a moment and I’m having several thoughts at once. She’s obviously joking, right? She seems serious. At this point I can usually tell when Aurora is joking or not and she seems serious. Kill me? Would she really do that? I should leave this city, would that affect our connection? Can she tell that Isaac is stressed right now? What if she calls my name while I’m in front of her again like in the cafe?” My palms are very sweaty and I’m swallowing a lot trying to steady myself. Then she lands the next blow.

“I can’t kill him though.”

“Why’s that?” I ask and I try to chuckle through it but it doesn’t sound right.

“I think I like him.” Yeah I know, I want to say but I don’t. I wait. I’m frozen.

-------

“What are you talking about?” I ask, but I know exactly what he’s talking about. It’s been all I can think about for weeks. Pen is frozen in place, and keeps glancing behind her as lookout. I’m cornered.

“You’re texting her? Taunting her? Do you have any idea the fire you’re playing with? Aurora is fuming about her servant causing problems. How far has it gone?”

“Uh…” I feel awkward answering. We sexted for hours last night doesn’t seem like the right thing to say. “I’m gonna tell her. Tonight, ok?” I offer. Bear and Pen both raise their eyebrows.

“You are?” Pen asks.

“Yes. I like her ok? A lot.

-------

So... It's ostara. Vernal equinox. I don't think I've said this here but I'm experimenting with witchcraft. I made moon water two days ago for the new moon and drank it.

To be slightly more grounded about it: during therapy a vague sense of SOMETHING that felt like faith bubbled up. I think the therapy I did felt like magic and I started listening to the voice that was curious and quieting the voice that said that was stupid.

I think I want to expand on my somatic practices. Body work and psychology as physical symptoms was very helpful for me but it took me ages to accept it. My therapist would go "where do you feel that in your body?" And I would just shrug. But now I am very in tune with that and I do feel more somatically tuned in. So rituals like meditation, setting intention, making my water feel special, externalizing things so that I have something tactile to touch and see as I work through internal problems, it makes sense to me now.

So yeah I made a special meal for the equinox. Idk I'm figuring it out.

Brave Little Elf

Quick little romance story with some mild smut

Thigh grinding, making out, sweet, emotional.

-----------

We'd been roommates for a couple years now. Alice had been mousy, quiet and at first it made it easy to be cordial, polite but not close. She was definitely attractive, her long brown hair usually braided. She always moved her hips a lot when she walked, not so much moving as swaying and weaving her way around the house.

I hadn't told her I'd broken up with Jess two weeks ago, and it was why I'd been unusually quiet. I probably should have told her. It felt weird that I hadn't. What was I supposed to say? “Hey I listened to your advice that night when we watched lord of the rings and I keep dreaming about you”?

Or “why didn't you listen to my advice too?”

What are you doing Ben?

I was setting out character sheets for a DND game on our dining table. Alice had been playing for a few months and had mustered up the courage to run her own one shot. I had cooked up some snacks, and Alice had been hiding in her bedroom for the better part of the last hour. I have no idea why. Her friends are gonna show up soon, along with Alfie, her boyfriend. I feel nervous, but I dont know why. It isnt even my party. I’ll probably retreat into my room once it gets going, to give Alice and her friends some space. I know this is a big deal to her, a big step. Because of how she was, because of her parents… but also because of Alfie.

Fuck Alfie.

My heart is beating a little faster. I've readjusted the dice sets a few times now. I'm getting restless. I go knock on Alice’s door. There's no answer. Is she asleep? That wouldn't make sense. I try again, nothing. I take a breath and open her door a little.

“Alice? You doing ok?” I ask cautiously. I catch a glimpse of her standing, thankfully clothed so I open the door all the way. She's standing in front of her bed, in a green gown with long sleeves embroidered with what I'm guessing is supposed to be elvish designs. She's got fake elf ears hooked onto her own that stick out playfully, and most shockingly, her hair has been chopped off near her chin, a blunt bob of brown hair framing her face. As she spins to face me I notice a severed braid on the carpet next to her, with craft scissors. I'm not sure how she's done it but somehow her hack job has resulted in a genuinely cute haircut.

“I fucked up. I fucked up Ben!” She's heaving, her arms glued to her sides.

“What… did you just cut your hair?” I stare at the braid.

“Alfie loved my hair long!” She shouts, “why'd I do that??”

I know why. Because Alfie is a controlling ass, and Alice is cracking. This wasn't a breakdown, or a mistake, this was rebellion, and Alice finally taking some control. I whip out my phone and frantically text Cassie and Riley.

Alice just cut her hair off, can you come early?

The response is immediate from Riley

She what? Yes we're on our way!

“Hey” I try to sound soothing and I grab her shoulders. This outfit is one of the nerdiest things I've ever seen. I smile.

“What is that? Don't laugh at me!” She barks defensively. Alice only talks to me this way. She's so careful with everyone, so nervous. But she never hesitates to tell me off. I used to hate it. Now I kind of love it. Now I realize it's because I'm safe.

“Sorry it's just… you look so…” but I don't get to finish as we hear our door open. Only one person comes in without knocking.

“Yeah dude I have to stay at her nerd party ok? Yeah I know. Haha oh my God she's got her game set up. Yeah the one I told you about. Geez.”

We hear Alfie on the phone as he walks in. My blood is boiling and my hands on Alice's shoulders tighten. She grabs my wrists and pulls me into her closet. I resist at first but she all but shoves me in and closes the slatted doors. She puts a finger over her lips and looks at me with a face that says “make a sound and I'll kill you.” So I shut up.

Alfie makes an attempt to look for her, coming into her room and looking around. Then he looks down at the carpet. Oh no.

“What the fuck?” He says, holding up Alice's severed braid. He stands there as she and I hold our breaths, I can feel both of our heartbeats, and her chest pressed against me. My brain and my body seem to be feeling different things and it's like a warmth is rising up and reaching for my common sense.

“This chick is too crazy for me.” Alfie mutters to himself. He looks up at the ceiling, “I can't do this shit.” His polo shirt and khakis punctuate his point as they stand in direct contrast not only to Alice's costume but to the flowy, colorful wardrobe pressing in on us. Alfie drops the braid and leaves, and we hear the door close. We both let out our breaths. Alice's smells like mint. Mine must smell worse.

“What an asshole.” I say before I catch myself. Alice presses against me. I look down at her, in the dim light I can still make out her blue eyes.

“Ben…” she whispers. I try to adjust in the tiny space and my leg goes between hers. I'm just about to open the closet door when our front door bursts open and two very nosy women come barreling through. I guess when there's drama, Alfie isn't the only rude house guest.

“Alice! We're here! Where is that asshole?” A string of assumptions and imagined scenarios tumble from Cassie and Riley's lips as they gossip, theorize, then start raiding the fridge. Alice's bedroom door is open.

Alice giggles. Then she says “you think it's stupid too. I know it's silly.” She looks down at herself.

“Actually I think you look cute. That's what I was going to say earlier.” I whisper. “I like it.” She looks up at me again, her eyes wide. We're way too close. We should leave, there's no reason to stay in the closet now. I should –

Alice kisses me. I try to step back but there isn't room and it drives Alice's hips into my leg. Our lips lock and I lose my thoughts as I press my tongue into her mouth. She moans, and I feel her press into my leg, searching for friction. I put my hands on her thighs and we break to catch air.

“Oh my God are you naked under this?” I ask. Her dress has a slit that goes up to her ribs and I realize there's nothing underneath.

“Yes.” She pants “it was for alfie… I thought maybe. I don't know.” Her voice gets small again. I hate that.

“Fuck, Alice” is all I say as my hands wander under the cloth and I rock her hips back and forth once. She whimpers quietly and rocks her head against my chest, gripping my shirt.

Am I really doing this? I need a breath. I need a minute to think. I stop her and raise her chin to look at me. She speaks before I can “he told me I couldnt cut my hair.”

My eyebrows furrow and I say “I guess he underestimated you.” She smiles. “Stay here.” I say, then add “please. I'll be right back.” She nods. I open the closet cautiously, half expecting the gossiping couple to be right outside waiting for me. I find them at the dining table happily snacking on chips and salsa and arguing over their characters. I tell them Alice is ok but needs a minute, and then ask if they could greet guests while I help her get ready. They're a little put out by the lack of info about Alfie, but Cassie, Riley and I have always been on team Alfie-Breakup, so I promise I'll fill them in later. I dip back into Alice's room, this time closing the door, and sneak back into the closet. I'm not sure why I don't just pull her out but I don't. Maybe I need to hide right now too.

Maybe I'm scared that what's happening can only happen in this closet. Alice pushed me against the wall and kissed me again like she's mad at me. She's hungry and pushes deeper into my mouth. I'm the one making sounds now. I grab her hips again and place her on my leg. “Come on” I coax, “finish what you started.” She whines but starts grinding.

“I've always… I wanted…” she's picking up her pace and her face is scrunching up. She looks at me “Benjamin please I need–”

I find her breasts under her gown and my finger brushes a nipple. She sucks in a breath and pushes harder into my thigh. “I didn't know…” she's trying to say something, but she can't find the words.

Shy, brave little Alice. Much braver than I am. Much bolder, pushing herself to be seen, understood. I should be brave too.

“My little elf” I say and I bite her ear. She makes a high sound, and looks at me again.

“Don't make fun of me!” She begs.

“I'm not.” I say, rocking her, biting her neck, licking her chest, helping her find a rhythm, “I like it Alice. I like all of you. I always have.” I hear her sniffle a little like she's fighting tears.

“Fuck. Please Ben, I need. I need more!”

“No.” I say. “If I fuck you I am going to keep you in this bedroom for hours.” Her eyes go wide at that “and that might be rude. I'm going to make you cum, and then we're going to go play DND.”

Between ragged breaths she says “we?”

“I'll play Alfie's character.” I say. Our eyes lock, she's pushing into me, grinding faster and I lock my teeth onto her neck. Some possessive part of me wants to mark her, to let Cassie and Riley and all of her friends see what I've done. I bite down harder and I know it's working, that it'll bruise her, and she lets out a loud moan, her whole body tensing as her orgasm crashes into her, she shudders, and collapses.

We heave together for a minute. I'm hard and aching but determined not to start something I can't stop. She looks down and says “but what about… you?” I smile at her.

Well it's March so I guess I'm tackling all of this.

Last time I gardened properly was pre therapy like 2.5 years ago. I had a plethora of eggplant and cucumbers. Then my repressed memories resurfaced. My whole property, inside and out, became neglected until now. I cleaned functionally, dishes, laundry, my kids rooms, basic vacuuming etc but the need to deweed and spring clean/re-org is extreme this year. It is the first spring since 2023 when I was having regular panic attacks (and was therapist hunting) that I feel motivated and excited to reshape my home environment.

The idea of lifting her up, putting his mouth between her legs passed by but he resisted it, he was too far gone now. He saw, as he kept his pace, off in the distance something was watching him, a low growl echoed into the darkness. A beast, a mass of fur regarded him with glowing eyes. He could sense it’s delight, the Fire burning in him, in it.

----

Bear’s voice gets quieter as he coaxes me more, “Almost there big guy, just tell me, and I can probably help you, it’s ok, I won’t judge you.”

“I wanted to control her, own her like. I don’t know like –”

“Dominate her?” Bear offers. I hate that word. I hate the whole identity, but there’s no use running from it now. I nod. Bear sits back and rubs his chin again, scratching at the trimmed bear framing his jaw. “Interesting.” He says

----

“I know you’re sexually frustrated. I know you like Aurora a lot. I know Josiah cares about you, something about burning a church down? I know you’ve never been to the fae wilds, I know you are good at the piano, but it’s painful for you. I don’t know why. I know you’re scared of me.” He smiles then.

“I’m not scared of you.” I chuckle softly. He stares at me silently for a long time. I swallow.

----

“I don’t appreciate being controlled like a puppet Aurora. Is this what it is? To be Fae? To be taken advantage of like a piece of meat?”

Hi Tumblr world. Sometimes I take a day and go wander the city to be by myself, and enjoy the luxury of not talking to other people for a while. I love my family, but this morning my son followed me to finish telling me about him disassembling a used robot we got from a computer repair store until I literally had to close the bathroom door in his face just to pee.

I just needed a little break.

Plus, I'm back to doing the artists way for the second time. I only got to week 9 my first time through last year so I'm making an attempt. So this counts as my artists date.

I start in coffee time, a dimly lit cozy place so I could journal. A lot of my thoughts were on my story, and other spicy writing ideas. I told Bear I might write him another smut story, this time a female pov about a captured fae in a fairy ring who lures her in. He had his own romance idea and I suggested maybe we could both write it together, either chapter by chapter, or we each pick a pov. I started on that and I actually like it so maybe I'll post that at some point.

I also had this unexpected conversation with him today:

I love that he tells me these things. I've never bought a dildo before, only vibrators. In fact when I was more prudish and younger I found the idea of a dildo sort of absurd. But now I'm thinking I might run by she bop (a woman focused sex shop in Portland) and pick one out. Yay.

I dipped into pioneer square quickly to pee before I cross the street into muji. The city is quiet and sunny and FREEZING. There's an odd vibe of solumn January exhaustion about the place and it's infectious. I had thought about finding a sun dress today at a thrift store because now that I'm fit I'm excited to wear one. But standing on the bone chilling air, the whole idea seems ridiculous so I scrap it. I head over to Powell's and buy the sequel to kiss of the basilisk. This decision came after my book club asked about it and I admitted it was great fun to read, even if it was a largely flawed book. That admission to myself let me finally shed any remaining embarrassment about liking the series and I relented.

Of course, like all of my smut reads, I'm interjecting this into a long tbr list. 5 mark lawrence books, the new book club addition, Earth Sea, and two romance books that bear picked out for me. What's a girl to do.

I pivoted from my thrifting idea to check out a secret cafe that requires a password. I had to open a door in a wardrobe with a sword and entered a hidden chill spot that was thankfully well heated. That's where I'm writing now.

I'm definitely buying a dildo today. It'll be my first one, well sort of. Bear got me one years ago but it vibrates and I never know what to do with it. It's one of those g spot ones and it always seems to spin the wrong way in me when I use it. I have a ton of vibrators. So this will be a new experience, and anything that bear is interested in, makes me excited.

Mostly I'm out to clear my head. I'm about to finish Suzuki book one, and I need to buy the second one online. It's a huge step for me with the violin. I feel like after a year and a half I'm finally getting a handle on the basics. I'm ready for the next step.

This book I'm writing is actually happening, and I'm playing, which feels huge. I'm taking it a little less seriously, and putting some of my more oddball ideas in there. Character motivations are sillier and inspired more by Pratchett than anyone else these days, but the romance is still at the heart of this. And my proudest brag? Leo isn't a shadow daddy at all. He's an awkward, stumbling, normal sweet guy. It felt so hard to do that and have him be in a dom/sub dynamic with aurora but I think it's working. She gets to be the aloof and mysterious one, and he's the one playing catch-up and figuring her out. I always wanted it that way and I'm proud of what I have so far.

Winter is relentless. I'm aching for spring, even though I know spring is a hectic time for me. I add gardening and homemaking me to hobbies along with sports events and my kids bdays and *gags* the end of the school year which this year means a child who will become an adult in may. I don't know why I'm in such a hurry. Even typing that out made me more thankful for winter right now.

But first, I'm back to practicing finally. Been on hiatus since September, and I'm rusty.

So I decided to ask myself questions about each chapter before I write it:

1. What is the purpose of this chapter?

2. What would make this chapter/scene more fun?

3. What can go wrong?

4. How can I add more conflict?

5. What DON'T I want to happen? (Ironically sometimes these are the best ideas)

6. What is driving the reader to want to find out what happens next, what is the hook?

7. What's something really funny that could happen?

This completely changed a rather dull chapter I was about to write where my two love interests bond and have a conversation. Now there's action, they have to team up to save a friend from danger, there's WAY more sexual tension, and my male lead leaves feeling not ok and motivated to fuck things up for someone else.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: E (smut)

Authors Note: I took a Barre class with my husband and he was the only man in there. Later we were fooling around and I was being a pervert about it and came up with a little fantasy. Then I decided to write it so he could read it. This is all smut, no plot and it's pretty ridiculous but it was fun to write. It's Male POV. It could be reader insert since it's written in second person.

This is my first ever smut that I've posted publicly. I'm very nervous about it. A year ago this would have felt impossible to do, but here we are.

“I never see any other guys in here,” You say as you push your large frame against the wall to put away your yoga mat, trying to give two women space to do the same. 

One of the women nods and says, “Yeah no kidding. It’s literally all girls in here every week.” She looks up at her taller friend and they chuckle.  

“I hope I wasn’t too in the way, my legs are a little longer than yours.” You offer politely, and you mean it. The class had been full of women in ankle socks, stockings, crop tops and skorts and you felt a bit out of place in your basketball shorts and t-shirt. You’re always a bit nervous in these spaces. You knew Barre was good for rounding out your fitness, and you didn’t mind being the only man in class, but you didn’t want to intrude. There was a tension in the crowded storage room though. The brunette was averting her eyes. The taller woman was shifting, waiting. Your heart sank as you noticed it. Maybe you shouldn’t come back next week. 

Another woman shuffled in until there were four of you in the small room and you tried to get out, but two of them stood in your way. “I’m Ashley,” said the brown haired woman. She had sharp features one could call cat-like, and wore a black sports bra and leggings. Her ballet wraps were purple, the only pop of color, the bows expertly tied and sticking out. She puts a hand on your chest and you step back. She follows your movement and keeps her hand there, smiling. “What’s your name?”

“Uh people call me Bear usually.” You say, more aware of how you tower over these women, and again try to wriggle your way out, getting more nervous as Ashley pushes on your chest, prompting you to sit on the small bench available in the cramped space. 

“That’s pretty hot,” She says. The two women behind her watch the interaction, unfazed. One of them, a curvy tan woman in a loose white shirt, taller than Ashley, giggles. Ashley throws her leg around your waste, the purple bow on her ankle dancing past you as her hand travels down into your red shorts, finding your cock, rubbing it over your tight boxers. The movement is so sudden your brain has trouble catching up.

You shift upwards in surprise, “Woah what are you doing?” you ask. The two women behind Ashley close in. One moves to your left and you feel trapped, the reality of your situation coming at you slowly. One of them grabs Ashley’s top and lifts it over her head. She has to release her grip on you to free herself, and her breasts bounce down as she sighs in relief at the lack of restriction. A small tattoo accents the sudden exposure on her chest: a single star.

“Do you think I’m hot, Bear?” She asks softly. You’re pretty sure you’re losing your mind, and an anxiety forms at the idea of someone else walking in to put a mat away. Your gaze is pinned to Ashley’s small star tattoo as you speak before you can stop yourself.

“Yes.” You whisper. Your hand raises up to brush her nipple and she grabs it. Hers so much smaller, curling around your wide palm.

“Do you want me to keep doing this?” Ashley asks, putting her hand back down your shorts, this time underneath your boxers. Her legs splay out as your hips separate to give her access, but make her perch less stable. 

“Yes.” You say, as your head is turned by another set of hands.

The curvy woman takes your chin in her hand, stroking your short beard and guides your gaze up as she says, “So fucking hot.” and kisses you. Her tongue is hungry and she pushes herself into your mouth like she’s looking for something. You respond just as eagerly, feeling the heat building between your legs, your tongue into her mouth tasting coffee and mint as she grips your jaw. You pull away to find your breath, which catches suddenly as Ashley hums in victory. You’re hard, and she smiles inches from your face.

             “Come on.” She says, hopping off of you, leading you all out into the large mirrored barre classroom. Your mouth hangs open as you realize only a few women have left. Two tall thin women seem to be standing guard by the door. A few are wasting no time making out in pairs on the floor near the mirror. Ashley guides you to sit on the wooden bench along the back of the room and you’re attacked with a torrent of sensation and whimpers. They rake their nails against your skin and feel along your neck, your chest. Each touch sends electricity through you. You can’t track where everyone is and the chaos pulls you deeper into the spell they seem determined to cast. A darker woman in a skort with full lips nibbles your ear, a small freckled woman with curls has her arms around you from behind in a soft embrace, her bare feet standing on the bench you’re sitting on, somehow only a few inches above you, while Ashley grabs your thighs and hands move up to pull your clothes off. Your eyes close as shorts come off, then boxers. You raise your hips to make it easier, and as your shirt comes off over your head you hear a collective gasp as your cock is freed for an audience you never would have dreamed would revel in it’s exposure. 

“Who wants to go first?” Ashley asks, turning to regard the room. 

“I want to taste him,” says the smaller woman with freckles behind you, right next to your ear. She hums on your neck and you marvel at her confidence.

“You and me together Emma?” Ashley asks. Emma nods. They position themselves in front of you kneeling, and the anticipation of what you think is about to happen takes you as precum wets the top of you. Someone is licking your neck as Emma and Ashley lick the side of your cock, both of them moaning. They taste you, seeming to savor what they find as their eyes open and close, sounds escaping them. Ashley goes lower to suck on your base as Emma gives one slow stroke up your shaft, her eyes closed. She shifts her legs and Ashley makes room as you watch yourself disappear into her lips. Her small mouth swallows you slowly and you let out a moan. She hums on your cock in response and you wonder when she’ll stop and pull up, and watch as she takes all of you in. 

She finds a rhythm, pumping up and down as hands move along your chest muscles, running through the hair there. Ashley grabs your left hand and props herself up on the bench to drive your fingers inside of her, having discarded her leggings in the transition. She’s soaking wet and already dripping onto the wood as she requires no movement from you, pinning your hand down and using you to find her own climax. Your wrist rubs on her clit while your index and middle finger dip inside and you curl your hand in the hopes it helps. Ashley’s gasp tells you it does. You feel someone straddling your large thigh, muscular from years of rugby and soccer, now a source of friction for a blond curvy woman, her white shirt still on as she grinds herself, watching Emma. Emma moans with you as you lose composure, grabbing her hair and yanking it back. Her tongue hangs out as she looks up at you.

“Wait! Just. Slow down.” You plead. Emma smiles. She looks around at her friends, some of them unavailable to look back, using your body for their own selfish ends. Your hand is pinned down and soaked. Ashley is moaning in your left ear. Two more pairs of women are finding their own pleasure on the floor together, watching and entwined. Some are wide eyed and unmoving, happy just to observe. A couple want to feel you but don’t chase anything more than that, but Emma’s eyes are hungry. 

“I want him.” She says, looking around for approval. Your eyes don’t leave her face, but she seems to have found what she’s looking for because she looks at you and says, “I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time.” She raises herself up and pulls her shorts off. Naked, she places her knees on the bench, in the space barely big enough to support her and lines herself up with you. 

“W–wait.” You mutter. You’re not sure why. It’s all too much and you’re worried you won’t last much longer. She’s so small, her breasts perky and cute, the nipples pink. Her freckles go over her whole body. Her face is flushed with desire, her green eyes flash with hunger. She pauses. 

           “Please?” She asks, her confident direction giving way to desperation. She waits. You nod, and she lowers down onto you. She pushes slowly down, both of you letting out sounds of relief as you fill her. She finds her rhythm quickly, rocking herself back and forth moaning loudly. You grab her hip with your right hand. 

“Ashley I need my hand,” You say through ragged breaths.

“Wait, Just–” Ashley cries out as she climaxes, gripping your tense forearm and shuddering. Her head rocks into your shoulder, and she pulls up. You move your hand to Emma’s other side and grip her as she continues, Ashley’s cum covering Emma’s hip and thigh. 

You can feel yourself building quickly now, the heat of it making you sweat, and you pick up Emma’s small frame and hover her over yourself so you can control the pace, slamming into her upwards. She weighs nothing, her hands grab your wrists and she begins to cry out. She looks at you and tries a few times to get words out but it’s all broken pieces and sounds. 

Finally she’s able to manage, “Together?”

“No,” you growl, “You first.”

You know exactly what you want and you’re chasing it with fierce determination now. Emma starts shaking wildly, her legs quivering around you as she lets out a loud “FUCK!” and you can feel her pussy tightening around you as she pulses, riding her orgasm in shudders. You raise her off of you when she’s done and set her down kneeling on the floor. Her eyes are glazed over as she catches her breath.

You grab Emma’s small curls and pull her head back once more. “Open.” you command. You’re lost now, reveling in how perverse the entire moment is. Emma opens her mouth, her tongue hanging out, her lips curled into an open smile as she waits. Two women realize what’s happening and rush over, pressing their faces together in anticipation. One of them is being grabbed by a black haired woman behind her, face soft. She’s close to finishing. 

You stand there in the small crowd of women, pumping your cock with your hand. One woman is on the bench, her arms around you, watching from over your shoulder. There is a held breath in the room as everyone waits. You feel the collective anticipation, as if your own pleasure was the air they breathed and they felt it with you. You hear a whimper or two pierce the silence as tongues touch your wet cock and your hand strokes it rapidly, your face tightening. The wave of pleasure slams into you and you cum, spraying their eager expressions with your release, and the collective breath is let out. They lick you clean, lapping up what you have to offer, none hungrier than Emma, her tongue finding every last bit on you until she’s satisfied and sits back. You collapse back down onto the bench, the woman behind you stroking your hair and lowering with you. 

“Fuck what was that?” you ask, looking around.

A few women chuckle. Ashley says, “We’ve been planning that for a while.” She smiles up at you. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re just so fucking hot, Bear.” She continues, “And you’re here every week. We started talking and… agreed that if you seemed into it…” She trailed off. 

“Could we–” you stutter, “Maybe do that again sometime?” Ashley laughs.

I mean I'm writing a whole book with smut in it.

But this was a one off and it's pretty filthy.