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Hey, I’m not hardcore about sports. In fact, that’s an understatement. On a scale of one to ten, I’m a solid zero. Oh sure, I let Brylee wear me down occasionally and drag me to the gym for some torture. But I don’t enjoy it.
There is one sport I enjoy, though, and it takes place here at home. Joel says sex is good aerobic exercise, and he should know—as we’ve done it on the huge bed, in the shower, on the sofa, on the carpet…
And now my breasts are tingling, my nipples hardening and my pussy clenching at the memory of all the sex I’ve had with the boys in this apartment.
So frigging weird to have my parents here. This place has been my sexual fantasy sanctuary, the world I share with my lovers. Sure, Brylee has been here, but otherwise, it has always been easy to close the door and lock the world outside, with their opinions and prejudices and ideas of how things should be.
I sometimes forget that not every girl has two sexy hunks waiting for her at home, pleasuring her—and each other—every night, and taking care of her.
Of me. They take care of me, and I of them. We look after each other. Cooking, washing, talking, playing, studying. Healing each other. Planning a life together.
I mean, Brylee was shocked at first, and she’s my bestie. Wasn’t always. I thought she was stuffy and conservative, but she proved to be my one real friend when things got tough. She stood by me when I cried my eyes out, thinking I’d never be with the boys, or later, when Jethro was in the hospital.
She’s good friends with them now, too. I think she’s opening up to the threesome idea. Slowly.
Very slowly.
Anyway, things change, people change, and Brylee is very happy for us.
Not so the whole wide world, a detail I often forget, happy as a bug in a rug, secure in my rosy little bubble.
“Hey, Mom, why don’t you go to your hotel, freshen up… We could meet later for a coffee.” I try to shoo my mom away from the bathroom and bedroom, because, well, she wasn’t so far off the mark about the sex toys. Jet already had a collection when I moved in, and he and Joel have been expanding it—focusing more on me and what would make me come harder.
The experiments have been successful so far and most toys see repeat performances.
Also, I never noticed how much I think about sex when my parents are not around. Apparently it’s all the time. Is this normal? I thought only guys were like that.
Help! Living with my guys has turned me into a nympho.
“Oh, nonsense. We’re not tired. We can wait, right, Donny?” Mom moves on to the kitchen, checking out the leftovers of a quick breakfast I shared with my boys before they headed out for their run—and I have to look away at the memory of what we did in the middle of having that breakfast.
The memory of them spreading me on the kitchen table and eating me out, then Jethro fucking me while Joel watched and directed us while jacking off, his hand moving slowly over his big, hard cock, leaning against the counter…
God…
“This is a nice, airy apartment,” my mom says, as if she’s thinking about renting the place, and returns to the living room where she proceeds to take over the sofa, putting her legs up on it and grabbing some of the magazines from the table beside to leaf through.
Those are Jet’s magazines about art design, and I have this insane desire to rip them out of her hands and push her legs off the sofa.
How dare she invade our space so casually, like it doesn’t matter? She has no idea how hard I worked to get through Jet’s walls, and through Joel’s insecurity about his sexuality.
About how I had to chip at their armor bit by bit, until I found out that Jet can draw like whoa, and Joel is a history buff and is writing the script for a comic they have been working on together. That Joel likes to cook, and Jet has some dyslexia but is getting better and has started to like books. We have been reading Harry Potter together and it’s great fun.
Like Joel is so protective, and likes to be in control in bed, going as far as to direct us because that seriously gets him off—and Jethro likes to be overpowered and really loves taking it up the a—
“Mind if I take a banana?” my dad asks from the kitchen and I sit down on the edge of the coffee table, feeling slightly faint.
“Sure.” My face is burning. I bet it’s crimson. My eye catches on the book of banana recipes Joel bought for Jet, initiating our first face-to-face meeting, and my mind veers right back to sex.
Oh God.
Stop thinking about sex, Candy. Stop thinking about bananas, and phallic objects in general. Not the best moment.
“How come you have two guys as roommates?” Dad wanders back into the living room, banana in hand. “I thought girls like to cohabit with girls, as a rule.”
I open my mouth, not even sure what to say to set things right, since my first attempt seems to have fallen on deaf ears, when Mom puts down the magazines she’s been thumbing through with more force than necessary.
“Jesus, Donny. I told you she has two boyfriends now. Boyfriends! It’s the new thing. We women need that. We can’t get enough satisfaction.”
