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As I slump back onto the bed, I’m reminded again that I don’t deserve Christa and that if I leave her alone, she’ll get over the fucking heartbreak I caused her and move on to find someone good, shiny, and new.
Nineteen
Christa
One week.
It’s been one week since Eric’s been back Stateside. I told myself... if he doesn’t contact me within a week of being back, that I was done. It was time to move on. I knew he needed time to adjust to being back, but a week was enough to decide if he wanted to see me. But he didn’t.
So, I’m fucking done.
So fuck him and fuckeverything. Tonight, the app notified me that the traveling erotic circus, also known as the Mile High Rooms, was in town and I’ve been sex-deprived enough.
Glad that I had that first experience, I knew what to expect. I wait in line wearing a skin-tight black sleeveless dress and the highest heels I own—bright red patent leather peep toe pumps that show off my new pedicure with painted toes to match the shoes. My mask is secured around my eyes and nose, and I smile.
“Well, hello. Password?” the front door attendant greets.
He’s damn hot in his suit so I smile flirtatiously at him. “Santa Baby.”
“Perfect. App?”
I already have it on my screen. I bring it up and he scans the QR code with his device. I tap my debit card against it for the cover charge, and I’m inside.
The same smells of salaciousness surround me. It’s crazy to me that a completely different warehouse in a completely different town can look so similar. It explains why the app and cover charge are so high. This is a highly orchestrated thing.
I walk through the main room, where there are lots of people engaging in all kinds of things. This time, I waited until after 11 p.m. to indulge, and I’m glad I did. The place is so much more crowded.
Throngs of people crowd around each station, or corrals as I call them, watching people fuck. One particular crowd is large, and I wander over in curiosity to see what is going on. I peer over the shoulder of a nice-smelling man and watch as four people engage in a big ol’ orgy. There’s a very good-looking buff man with black hair fucking a woman from behind who is on her hands and knees. Her face is buried between the legs of a woman, who clutches the woman’s hair, but can’t cry out because her mouth is full of a huge cock slamming in and out of it from behind her head. They make eye contact as he fucks her mouth, before looking up at the guy fucking the woman who’s eating her out. He leans over carefully and kisses him, and it seems they have the perfect train. Not one part of it is not connected, and I admire their engineering.
I would love to be a part of that.
So hot.
I pass another station where two women are heavily engaged in some sort of sexual tryst. One lies on the massive fancy white couch while the other eats her. The one on the bottom has her arms craned above her head, her mouth dropped open in pleasure. Behind the woman eating is a man fucking her pussy furiously from behind. The man fondles the breasts of the eater, while his other hand stimulates her clit.
The guy pumps furiously into her pussy and I watch to see which one is going to come first. I wish so badly I could be one of those women—I don’t care which one.
