Seriously? You want to start in the middle of the story? You might want to read Chapters 1 -4 first.
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I awoke the next morning and surprisingly felt physically all right, other than soreness in my behind where Brent, my boyfriend of two days and foster brother of the last two years had pumped my anal canal full of his plentiful manhood and dumped what felt like a pint of his seed there. Still the overall soreness was no more than the day before when he had entered my backdoor for only a second or so, but on that occasion his cock had come as a complete surprise to my delicate anus. This is not to say I felt good, but I had finally fallen asleep after a session with my new, and very first, vibrator after sending him away when I became too disgusted with myself to cope. Indeed, my first post anal sex bowel movement was in interesting experience in its own right, but far too gross to tell you about here. All I can tell you is that if you use a lot of lube, and your boyfriend is prone to large amounts of seminal discharge, expect things to be runny and leak for a while. Thankfully, enemas come in convenient three packs.
Mentally I was still a mess. Obviously, if I'm writing on an erotic site about ass drool and enemas. But that's not the kind of mess I was that morning. I was disgusted at myself for certain acts that I knew were degrading when I performed them, and that I was so out of control sexually that I couldn't stop myself from doing them. The idea of tongue fucking a man's asshole, finger fucking it, or sucking the post anal sex slime from his still very wet cock, repulsed me. Yet over and over in my mind I replayed all three events and realized I couldn't stop myself. I was that out of control. I could live with the acts themselves, sure, they're gross, but so is a lot about life. People are ultimately disgusting skin bags of smelly fluids that like to rub on each other, but somewhere along the evolutionary line we turned away from any thing that might be both fun and related to fecal matter as being beyond the pale. I know a lot of folks like anal sex, in fact I do. The sex was great, and I look forward to repeating it. But I fear the loss of control over my own actions that the extreme edges of sexual excitement threatens me with, and I couldn't stop myself last night. This was the cause of my mental state then. That I engaged in something that otherwise would make me wretch to even think about it, and that my hormones were so enraged I couldn't prevent myself from doing so.
On the other hand, perhaps losing control was part of being in a trusting relationship. If Brent were out of control wouldn't he trust me to make sure he was alright? And shouldn't I be able to trust him likewise? Being a foster kid as I was, even though I was now 18, meant not having a lot of trust in people. The first folks I truly felt safe around were Dr and Allison Anderson, the folks that took me in and that had previously adopted Brent. I still had trust issues it seemed and I would need Brent to help with it, just as he had helped me with my studies in high school.
Brent.
"Shit, I have to apologize for getting stupid on him last night." I thought as I turned off the water to the shower I held my meditations in. If you read the previous chapters, you know my make up and dress routine for my summer job was simple and took only minutes. Today I figured on doing the make up when I got there. If you haven't, then Ha! You're lost!
I towel dried my long, auburn hair, and slipped on fresh cotton panties. It was steamy from the shower so I just threw on my bath robe and stepped back into my bedroom to finish dressing.
On my bed was the nicest surprise! Brent had cooked me breakfast, eggs, bacon, silver dollar pancakes and hash browns and it looked especially delicious as I had consumed only liquids the day before in prep for the anal workout last night. A single red rose was in a vase with a note leaning against it. I tore the envelope open and read;
"Jessie, "
"After the way I acted last night I can understand you don't want me around anymore. I am going to turn my notice in at work today and head back to school. Please tell Dr Ron and Allison I got a call about a class opportunity I couldn't pass up, and I will call them next week."
"I'm sorry for hurting you, it was the last thing I ever wanted to do. If you don't ever want to see me again I understand. Please find a way to forgive me though so we can be friends. Don't blame yourself, it was me that hurt you, and its my fault. I couldn't stand myself last night, and I hate myself more this morning. Your hatred of me now doesn't match my own self loathing."
Brent had signed it, and all I could think was "Ron and Allison had left me here with Brent after I kicked Danny's ass for the videos he made of me, and now I have to kick Brent's ass too." I heard the front door shut and knowing I would never catch him running down the stairs, I ran to my window and unlocked it, throwing it open just as Brent reached the door of his car.
"Hey!" I shouted. Brent looked up looking like a basset hound that had lost his last friend.
"Get your ass back here!" I demanded, probably waking the whole neighborhood as it was still not 7 am. Oh well, that's what Allison gets for fostering white trash like me. I stared until he started back, then went down stairs to meet him. I caught him as he was shutting the front door and as he turned to face me, his eyes teary, I swung as hard as I could with my open palm and screamed.
"Do you think you can leave me!?" he ducked his head down and I connected with his shoulder but I drew back and swung again.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? You don't tell a girl you love her then fucking leave!" again I missed, this time too high.
"You remember" I began, as I drew my hand back a third time, tears filling my eyes, "how hard it was as a foster kid to find one fucking person who wanted you when your own parents didn't? Well that was supposed to be you damn it! That was supposed to be you" I cried.
Brent grabbed my hand before it could slap his face, and this time I had been on target. He gripped it hard and wouldn't let me pull it back to try again.
"It was supposed to be you." I blubbered as my legs gave way and he caught me from falling, pulling me against his body in a loving embrace.
"I remember." he said, wimpering, "I remember being all alone and no one wanting me. I remember it all. The cold cinder block wall I used to sleep against at the home while they tried to find a home for me. I remember the room being so hot and stuffy there that the wall was the only way to cool down. I remember hoping that one day I would find someone like you who loved me so much, and I remember staying up all night wishing I were dead because I hurt you with my selfish desire." He finally said, crying as much as I was now.
"What?" I exclaimed through my tears? "Hurt me? Are you fucking stupid?"
"Huh?
"Who the fuck said you hurt me you idiot?" I demanded.
"Wha...I mean last night, in your bed" he stammered.
"That didn't hurt! I was fine with it you dumbass! I just weirded out because of the stuff I did made me sick to my stomach." I said, still shouting. Well if the neighborhood was listening they must be curious about what we were fighting about, but in this community of doctors and lawyers the nearest house was about 50 yards away.
"You were fine with it?" he asked, seemingly confused.
"Well it wasn't the most comfortable thing I've ever done, but it was okay. " I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "The prep work paid off and you could probably talk me into it again sometime..." I paused for a moment as I remember was was really important, then shouted "FUCK YOU! You bastard!" as I began beating my fists in impotent rage against his chest. "You can't ever leave me! You can't ever fucking leave me!"
I would repeat this until my crying made my voice incoherent. Brent responded in the only way he could, holding me, running his hand gently through my still wet hair, and telling me he never would. During my wild swings he had backed away and we were now in the dining room. Brent released his embrace and retrieved a box of tissues from a shelf beside the entry way. He, eyes bleary from his own tears, led me to the kitchen where he seated me, still blubbering, on the bar stool I always sat at when we had done our homework together two years before. He took his old seat and began drying my tears. He made me blow my nose like a mother would a child, holding the tissue and wrapping it gently across my nostrils.
"I love you so much" I said after I had begun to calm down. "Losing you would kill me I think."
"I wanted to die last night, I sat outside your door for the longest time, hating myself. Then decided I had fucked this up too bad for you to forgive me." he replied.
