Bad Deal

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In a way, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Intense emotion, primitive, violent male and female lust, and the abandonment, no – more akin to the death, of a fundamental element of modern societal behavior. This was no desperate medieval measure to save the bloodline, no mistaken identities. This was raw, animalistic fucking, in possibly the most deviant manner possible between two consenting adults. Pain, bruises and whip marks fade. Urine and feces can be washed away. But nothing could change who the participants were. The distinction of having committed the act, even if only this once, would forever be theirs.

It was also somewhat sinister, the way I helped create this contentious union of two glistening bodies in the orange early morning light. I would always carry some guilt. But when I had asked myself, honestly, why I did it, the answer was clear.

My name, for the purposes of this essay, is Claire. I am bisexual and narcissistic. So is my girlfriend, although that’s not the point. During my early thirties, the events referred to above occurred. This is ultimately not a tale of irresistible, youthful seduction or experimentation. It does begin, however, in my younger days, with my first real love. The story really begins there.

Vanessa

My first glimpses of ‘Vanessa’ were usually blocked by her entourage. Yes, she had an entourage as early as ninth grade. A cadre of boys, football players mostly, and other cheerleaders always seemed to be surrounding her in the small, private, Southern high school we attended. Her long, frizzy brown locks were frequently held off her perfect face by a large scarf, knotted at the top. After all, it was the era of Madonna and the Go-Gos. Her Italian-descended last name and looks were somewhat of a novelty in the largely blonde rural region in which we lived. She wasn’t an obsession then, just another popular girl I hoped to emulate, having boys flock around me someday, a day that eventually arrived in an entirely different form.

Vanessa, back then, didn’t even know I existed. Shy and introverted at that time, I watched her and the popular crowd from the sidelines. My somewhat petite body and I gradually came to terms and I began to shed my shell, and went from being perceived as the weird girl, to the weird girl who at least tried to show a little belly and as much cleavage as she could muster from her modest breasts. I did get a shock one day in the hall, when, leaving class early for an appointment, I encountered a beautiful, solo Vanessa, who smiled and said ‘Hi! Love your outfit!’ as she passed by. For reasons that would be clear to me later, my heart leapt.

Claire

School and lazy summers droned on. I’ve been told every school has a somewhat outcast girl that dates a guy much older, and I eventually became her, dating a plumber’s helper, then, after parading around in a bikini on a fishing trip soon after graduation, traded up to his boat-owning boss, who was thirty-one years old. A month later, scarcely eighteen, I forfeited college in distant cities, moved in with ‘Jimmy’, and was practically disowned by my mother.

The next two or so domestic ‘housewife’ years at his new house with its in-ground pool were filled with frequent nakedness, sex, with Jimmy, and sometimes a few of his friends. It was quite the education. Deep throat, anal, roughness, slapping, spanking, I did it all, and he made videos to chronicle it. There may yet be copies, crude VHS transfers, out on the internet today, sadly now under the ‘vintage’ category. Drunk and on my knees in the back yard late one night, encircled by half a dozen men showering me with all the bodily fluids their beer-filled bladders could muster, I realized I had finally obtained an entourage of my own. Still, there was an emptiness, a detachment. I didn’t love him. I eventually ended up skulking home to a vicious ‘I told you so’ from my mother. In the quiet solitude that followed, I admitted to myself that I was bi, but hadn’t a clue what I could do about it. Internet chat rooms and the like were still several years in the future.

Vanessa and Claire

Soon I had begun working at a grocery store, stocking shelves. I was wearing an ugly brown visor and apron, knee deep in boxes of canned beans the moment my life changed forever. Vanessa, carrying a twelve pack of beer at nine thirty in the morning, saw me, squealed and came almost jogging down the aisle, taking my breath away as she hugged and kissed me on the cheek. I was shocked she even knew my name, much more so at the long, bubbly conversation we had. Apparently we were the only two who didn’t go straight into college after high school. That kindled some kind of bond, like the two people at the gate who missed the same airline flight. At that time I had no idea that her beautiful long, wavy dark locks, brilliant emerald green eyes and, by contrast, scratchy voice and nasal laugh would become part of my existence, an opiate that I could never casino siteleri resist, even now.

Our conversation took several directions, and Vanessa seemed pleased that I could keep up. Finally, she leaned toward me. I took in her wonderful aromas as she spoke in my ear.

“Hey, can you take this to the back door and pass it to me so I don’t have to pay for it?” she asked, referring to the twelve pack. I was surprised, since she was reputed to be a spoiled, rich ‘Princess’. I had seen her at prom with a pair of diamond earrings bigger than my nipples. I was about to say yes, suddenly prepared to do anything for her, but it turned out she was only kidding. Having tried to look busy while we talked, I had randomly stacked cans on the shelves. It took me twenty minutes to reorganize the fucked up bean aisle after we parted. I had butterflies nearly constantly after seeing her – something had clicked.

Two weeks later, Vanessa and I were roommates. Just a couple chicks at first. She was unaware of my obsessive girl crush, which continued as subtly as a roaring freight train. I had butterflies almost constantly and knew this was love. I began to fantasize about her treating me aggressively, forcing me into becoming her lesbian lover. Along with her stunning face and those captivating green eyes, her gymnast’s body was tight and firm and I secretly enjoyed the view of her as she nonchalantly strutted naked around the apartment. I had spent hours – no, days at a time – naked around people when I was with Jimmy, but sequestered in the apartment I shared with Vanessa, the first time I felt her emerald eyes on my bare, wet, unsettled flesh as I emerged intentionally nude from our bathroom, made my vagina feel like it was going to melt right out of my pelvis and begin sliding down my thighs. This was love.

Unfortunately, Vanessa got a boyfriend, ‘Marco’. In no time I became resentful of my roommate and her new stud. Still, I would stand, ear against the wall, in our cheaply built apartment, feeling it rhythmically jolt as they noisily fucked. I would filter out the male grunts and mumbling and mentally catalog every giggle, groan and gasp Vanessa made, saving them for my fantasies. I would masturbate and cry myself to sleep, imagining those noises made with me, her kisses, the feel of her skin, wondering if the flesh surrounding her pink slit would taste any different than my own, a hunger a thousand ejaculating penises could never satisfy.

After a couple weeks, Vanessa seemed to sense that I felt neglected and planned a mid-week girls’ night of dinner and shopping. Marco showed up unannounced before we were able to leave and a big argument ensued. He left angered and Vanessa shoved me into the wall and threatened to punch me. My heart pounding like I had never felt it, I called her every possible insulting name I could think of. My purposeful escalation worked. Instantly Vanessa was on top of me on the living room floor, pounding my face and shoulders with both fists. I retaliated just enough to keep her coming at me, as I was nearly orgasmic from this intense, very personal attention from her. The line between sex and physical violence was always blurred to me, and remains so to this day.

In the midst of the chaos a dialogue began as she admonished me against trying to fuck Marco, that there would be none of the orgy-like sharing ‘I was used to’. My reply, one of the most honest moments in my life, slipped out before I had time to filter it. “I don’t want to share, I only want YOU…to fuck me ..I..”

That confession froze Vanessa in mid-punch. “What?”

“I..” I continued to stutter, “I’m in love with you!”

Vanessa’s jaw fell open and she raised up from her straddling position. I began to sob uncontrollably.

“You want us to fuck?” She asked as I rose to walk away.

I couldn’t bring myself to respond. My swollen eyes were filled with tears, and I could not look at her. I retreated to my room and cried myself to sleep. I had admitted to a lesbian attraction. I knew I would be asked to move out, and would probably never see her again afterward. I slept maybe two hours in total that night. The persistent alarm was especially cruel the next morning. Vanessa, who has never worked a day in her life, was allegedly taking a few classes at community college, and always slept in.

In an instant, that day, a Friday, became the best day in my life. Pain, shame and fatigue were replaced with adrenalin and pure joy. There was a note taped to the bathroom mirror on yellow legal paper, accented with smiley faces and hearts. The ink is now stained in places by my tears of joy and I still have it, locked in my safe. I know its verbiage from memory, anyway. It began:

‘Claire Bear,

YOU ARE SO AWESOME!! YES YES I WANT TO FUCK!!’

The note went on to declare a disclaimer regarding skills since I would be her ‘first’, and to ask for secrecy, non-commitment, and an agreement that we would also keep slot oyna dating men, which was fine with me. Anything to be with her. She told her boyfriend that we both had the stomach flu and to stay away for the weekend, giving us time alone.

That day at work seemed like the longest eight hours ever. I arrived home and a freshly showered Vanessa came rushing over to me with a glass of wine. Trembling and tearful, we toasted and shared our first kiss, wet, sumptuous and unforgettable.

Not fifteen minutes later I had barely dried off from my own shower when Vanessa, unable to wait for my return to the living room sofa, barged into my room topless and shoved me into the wall with a thud, knocking a framed poster down. I felt my pussy begin to roast as her solidified, somewhat excessive nipples accosted and bullied my already extended average ones. Mine gallantly fought back, poking the firm flesh of her small, gently mounded breasts until they succumbed beneath the rotating compression of her thumb and forefinger, her long nails stinging deliciously. Our slippery, ardent tongues probed our palates frantically and noisily, our moaning and hot breath escaped audibly and probably fogged the windows in the room, and maybe the entire apartment building. Lips and incisors assaulted those nipples next; minutes later on my unmade bed, our faces were ecstatically buried between each other’s thighs. As her teeth lightly pinched my throbbing clit, I had my first taste of Vanessa’s generous labia, coated with her vaginal liquor, a substance that instantly became my own personal heroin, and still is as I write this.

Some of our fingers disappeared from sight soon after, and I craved my lover’s arm up to her elbow inside me, her hand concussing my womb. Of course our youthful passages, despite our prior teenaged promiscuity, would then only comfortably accommodate a few fingers. However, in a couple years Vanessa’s fist would become a regular visitor, her knuckles rhythmically battering my cervix.

That first weekend with Vanessa was absolute heaven, as anything we tried was new and exciting. Orgasm after orgasm slammed across my body; the three-day count easily exceeded my age. Vanessa’s face and body contorted as she loudly announced her climaxes as well. By Monday night we were exhausted, lying in the tub together, trying to regain some sense of day, night, and sobriety from both alcohol and lust. Reluctantly, we were also forced to cleanse one another’s essence away as we prepared to return to the now mundane, hetero world.

This tale should have a ‘happily ever after’ inserted here, but the bliss only lasted two months or so. I returned home one day to a sobbing Vanessa. It was the first time I had seen her really cry. She was pregnant.

There is no need to detail the next decade or so. It’s a tale of separation, frustration, and intermittent joyful epochs. Vanessa divorced Marco, then later remarried him and they had a second boy. She and I drifted together now and then, sometimes for as long as a year, living at her affluent parents’ luxurious lakefront house out in the country.

The disarray of my dichotomous life marched on. I saw Jimmy occasionally, most of the time resulting in a confusing jumble of naked bodies with a male friend or two of his and sometimes Vanessa and another girl as well. Everyone, except the men, fucked everyone. I formally dated a few other guys and even a couple women, but things just didn’t spark and last.

Tony

I first met Tony as a friend’s father. He was a successful businessman, some said a little too successful, legally speaking. His large house had a pool and so he saw me in a bikini frequently. I thought he was cute and I played my role as a cock tease well, adjusting my swimsuit, or letting its coverage lapse slightly at the tan line. He was married then, so that was the limit of my exhibition. The friend moved away, so it was quite a while before I saw him again.

Years later, I was invited to his family beach house after he was suddenly single again. At first I thought it was coincidental, but was proven wrong. Nearly ten years older, his hair had begun to gray at the temples and he had mellowed somewhat, but still subtly pursued me as his daughter and her kids buzzed around us. Despite being just over thirty, I felt like a schoolgirl around him. His large, Mediterranean-descended brown eyes and expressive face, combined with a somewhat warped, Philadelphia-bred sense of humor attracted me. Of course he didn’t mind my bisexuality a bit.

For a normal woman in that situation, sure, the story may have ended here, with a second wife romance, but I’m not ‘normal’.

Once my friend’s kids were gone, shipped back to her ex-husband, and there were just us three adults in the beach house, the mood changed. Completely.

Tony and Claire

It was after our classy seafood dinner for two and I held a whiskey on the rocks as I perched myself on the couch, on my knees canlı casino siteleri sideways and facing him. I knew I had to choose the right moment to act. It was too early, I hadn’t even teased his dick hard yet. Blessed with the time to tan a little, work out and a high metabolism, I believed at thirty, I still looked pretty good in the tight, short dress and jacket I had worn to dinner. Now sans jacket, the thin, clingy, sliver-gray halter dress was doing its job. I could feel the ocean breeze slip beneath the bodice under my arms, since the outer surfaces of my breasts where they joined my torso were left bare. In a braless dress, this was a better look for me than any attempt to show cleavage, and my nipples had been misbehaving most of the night as a bonus.

I let the hem of the dress ride up, and my panties may have been visible when I occasionally parted my thighs for a few seconds, all part of my master plan. Soon we began to kiss. His tongue was overly cautious, but strong. I tried not to think of it between my legs, since I had a mission tonight. Tony, just over fifty and experienced at bedding women, was patient at first. Gradually his hands, fresh from their successful caresses and nipple-tugs under my dress, wandered up my thighs. I grabbed the bulge in his trousers and squeezed. It was the Rock of Gibraltar, nicely thick, in tubular form.

Suddenly, despite my instinct to escalate things, I pulled up and took several steps away from the couch and looked into his eyes.

“You really wanna fuck?” I asked, almost angrily.

“That’s a stupid question.” Tony said, smiling. He didn’t realize how serious I was. “Now get your ass back over here.”

“No.” I shook my head slowly

“No what?” he asked. “You want some kinda commitment or somethin’?”

My heart pounded. I had to time myself. It had to be perfectly stated before he got angered and arose and dragged me into a bed, something he easily could have done. As if he read my mind he began to leave the sofa.

“You have to fuck her first.” There it was, I said it. “Then you get me, all you want.” The ‘her’ was the third adult in the house, Vanessa, my girlfriend, my best friend.

Tony sat back and just looked at me, as if he was surprised I knew about his daughter’s perverted obsession. He was aware I was his daughter’s lover on and off for nearly ten years, and yet he was surprised. Maybe he thought her urges had disappeared.

“Yeah right,” He said skeptically.

“I’m serious Antonio,” I looked into his eyes. “Only the three of us will ever know.”

I began my sales pitch. “Haven’t you wondered? Her tits?” – they were fuller and somewhat bouncy now, having never really retreated after her pregnancies – “Those big nipples…That beautiful ass…imagine her mouth on your cock…and…that slick, hot pussy…no condom …it’s all delicious…” I rolled my eyes to emphasize my comments. I could talk nasty with the best of them, and went on to tease Tony about what a good fuck she was. His daughter had wanted him to fuck her since puberty, she told me.

Since high school, Vanessa had flirted when alone with her father and flaunted herself undressed in front of him. She blatantly invited him into her bedroom on the first opportunity after her eighteenth birthday so he could give her ‘the best present ever’. Angered that the Mustang convertible wasn’t sufficient, Tony threatened to have her committed, but couldn’t, since she was technically an adult then, and her mother would have been made aware of her daughter’s incestuous craving and attempted adultery. Well played, Princess. But I think she has acceptance issues to say the least. An only child, she always talked about wishing she had brothers to fuck, and in her early twenties she did actually drive out and fuck a first cousin a few times while he was in college. They had played a little curious ‘show and tell’ years before, she reported. So here we were a dozen years later, with me assigned to get Tony’s engine running in our bait-and-switch scheme, all a diabolical plan to get him to fuck his own daughter.

His expression quickly turned angry.

“What if I say no?”

“We’ll both leave right now. No pussy for you.” I lifted the hem of my dress a few inches in the front and released it as a subtle reminder. “we’re already packed.”

“What if I catch you and fuck you anyway?”

“I don’t think you would do that, but if you do, I’ll..I’ll call the cops and claim rape.”

“You’ll never prove that.” He laughed. “You’re a Goddamn slut! I’ll tell them about the homemade porn you used to brag about.”

“They’ll still arrest you and it’ll be a royal pain in the ass,” I countered.

At this point I was trembling, afraid he would call my bluff. A nice rough fuck would have suited me just fine right about then, but I had promised that boner to Vanessa. There was no way I would have ever called the police, but I had to close this deal for my lover, my best friend.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” he asked, frustrated.

“Because Vanessa wants it, and I love her more than anything…Don’t you?” I replied. “None of us is getting any younger.”

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