Twisted Thomas

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#12 Worst week of her life

Thomas

Dylan is practically glowing when he steps into the ring of the gym where I have been waiting for him the past ten minutes. He puts on his gloves and grins at me, his dark eyes sparkling.

“Did you get laid or something?” I ask, getting ready to fight. Tracy has been busy the past week and I’ve got so much pent-up sexual frustration that I have to let it out somehow. Ever since meeting her six months ago, we’ve been fucking multiple times a week. It’s hard going back to nothing but my right hand, even though it’s just for a seven days.

“Yeah!” Dylan confirms with a huge grin.

“Oh,” I realize, lowering my hands. He had a date with a guy last night, but I didn’t think he’d go through with it. He got so nervous every single time he was with a guy that he went back to screwing girls instead, not even dating guys anymore. When he told me he had a date with a guy he met in the line at the grocery store, I didn’t think it would go anywhere, but I guess it did.

“Top or bottom?” I ask curiously.

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Both. And it was amazing. I’m seeing him again tomorrow night.”

“Good for you.” It’s great that he finally popped his gay cherry, and he looks like he’s ready for another round already.

“You seeing Tracy again soon?” Dylan asks. “You’re really grouchy when she makes you wait for more than a few days. You’re only fuckbuddies, right? Why don’t you just find someone new when she’s not available?”

That’s an excellent question. The past six months, I’ve gotten quite fond of the girl, I guess. She’s weird and closed-off and way too hung up on her ex, but she’s also hot as fuck, really funny, spunky, and she is always down to fuck. Well, almost always – not this week, alas. I miss her, even though that’s stupid. I like her. Not the way I used to love Franny, but I do like spending time with her.

“I can cope without sex for a week,” I say after a long moment of silence.

“If you can’t, let me know,” Dylan teases. “I’m broken in now. My ass is wide open and ready for more.”

“Good to know,” a deep voice says form the side of the ring. We look up to see Aston Johnson grinning at us. “I totally ship the two of you as a couple.”

“Why are you always walking into our conversations when we’re talking about sex?” I ask, rolling my eyes at him.

“Because we’re always talking about sex,” Dylan replies, laughing.

“As you should,” Aston says, not even kidding. “My fiancée is still recovering from her C-section, so my balls are blue. You should enjoy having sex while you can. One day, you’ll have a kid crying all the time and a girl in your bed who only wants to cuddle.”

“Or a guy,” Dylan says. “Guess that’s one thing to keep in mind when I decide years from now whether to settle down with a man or a woman. Men can’t have kids, so no pregnancies or C-sections, and therefore no blue balls.”

“Fly your rainbow flag, man,” Aston agrees immediately. “You gonna box or what? I’ve got two more people wanting to get in the ring. I don’t like to kick you out, but I will if you’re going to keep standing there talking about sex without actually boxing.”

“Right,” I realize, getting ready for our work-out. “I could use a fight.”

“If you want a real fight, you shouldn’t be boxing with the scrawny queer guy,” Aston says with a wicked grin. He flexes his muscles. “No offence, Dylan.”

“None taken,” my best friend says, laughing. “Think you can take Thomas? He’s in here three or four times a week.”

“Please,” Aston scoffs, already putting on his gloves. “He learned how to box in one of my classes. I can kick his ass any day of the week.”

“Bring it on, big mouth,” I say, eager to have an opponent more suited to my skills than Dylan.

As it turns out, I’m no match for him. I hold my own for a while and land a few blows, but the guy is way stronger than I am, a bit taller as well, and he’s got mad skills in the ring. He’s the one who thought me how to box, like he said, since I’ve been coming to this gym for years and I’ve taken a lot of the classes he teaches. Aston eventually knocks me down so hard that I’ll probably be sore for days. Still, fighting him allows me to let out all that pent-up frustration from not being with Tracy for a full week, and I’m grateful for that.

When Dylan and I get on our mountain bikes and make plans to meet up later tonight to work on another app for the design twins who keep giving us new assignments, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and smile when I see it’s Tracy calling.

“Hey babe,” I say, grinning at Dylan, who is miming a blow job, rolling his eyes back in his head.

“Please tell me you can get here in thirty minutes tops,” she says, sounding a little hoarse.

“Sure, I’m about to head home from the gym, but I can swing by your place.”

“Thank fuck,” she grunts. “I’ve had one hell of a week, and I…” She hesitates. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, baby,” I say, a little surprised at her admission. She’s not the affectionate type, not at all, and she’s never once told me she misses me when we don’t see each other for a few days in a row.

Dylan’s eyes go wide when he hears me tell Tracy that I missed her. “What the fuck?” he mouths, drawing a little heart in the air.

I motion for him to shut up. “Wanna have dinner together?” I ask. “I’m hungry.”

“For me, I hope?” she asks, laughing. “Sure, let’s order some pizza. I’ve got a few beers with your name on them in the fridge.”

She doesn’t drink beer herself, so I know for a fact she got those for me. How sweet. “Sounds good, I’ll be there soon.”

“Key’s under the mat, and I’ll be in bed, waiting for you,” she says, sounding like she’s already turned on. In the background, I hear a low grunt and a high-pitched moan.

“Are you watching porn?” I ask, a little surprised.

“Yeah,” she admits, not even sounding like she’s ashamed that I caught her. “Like I said, I missed you. Still do, in fact. You better get that tight ass over here soon, or I’m gonna get started without you.”

“Hanging up now,” I say, putting my phone back in my pocket. “Raincheck for tonight?” I ask Dylan, jumping on my bike.

“Go fuck,” he tells me, rolling his eyes. “Tell Tracy hi for me.”

“Will do.” I take off with a wave, peddling as fast as I can to get to my girl. They key is under the mat like she said it would be, and I can hear the sounds of the porn she’s watching the moment I get into her apartment. Damn, she must be even hornier than usual.

“Thom,” she says, her eyes shining brightly when I step into her bedroom, my shirt already off and on the living room floor. “Took you long enough.”

“Damn, woman, stop being so goddamn needy,” I tease, slipping into bed with her.

She’s naked underneath the sheets, and I run my hands over her, ready to get down to it. The girl on her laptop screen at the foot of the bed is screaming for the two guys to take her harder, and I slip two fingers into Tracy, fingerfucking her in the same pace the guys are taking the porn actress.

“Oh!” she exclaims, pulling me against her while she kisses me hard. “Oh, Thomas, that feels so good.”

She undresses me swiftly and wraps her hand around my shaft, moaning when she feels that I’m not wearing my piercing. She still doesn’t like it, and I haven’t been wearing it all that often. In fact, I think that I couldn’t even get it in anymore, since the holes have been closing over the past weeks. I don’t miss it – the piercing reminded me too much of Franny, and Tracy isn’t into it. Allowing the holes to close sort of feels like catharsis, which makes me sound totally pathetic, I know.

Today, it doesn’t take much to get Tracy off. Not much at all. When her orgasm hits, she starts shaking all over, and her eyes roll back in her head. I pull her against me and play with her tits while she’s coming down from her high, licking, pinching and massaging until I hear her soft moans returning, telling me she’s ready to go again. It took us a while, but Tracy’s body has no secrets for me anymore. Some people might find that boring, but I’ve always preferred it. I used to love how well I knew Franny’s body, and I feel the same about Tracy now. It means I can make her go crazy with need and make her beg for me to take her. And God, I love it when she begs.

Tracy goes down on me, blowing me for a very long time. She knows exactly when to pick up the pace and when to slow down, drawing the pleasure out for as long as possible while also keeping me on edge, unable to think or talk or do anything but lie there and groan. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say she knows my body as well as I do hers.

When she finally allows me to come, I blow my load into her mouth and watch her swallow. Damn, that’s hot. Tracy wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before snuggling up to me, watching the end of the porn scene she put on before I got here. She shudders when the guys pull out of the girl, one at a time, and we can see how far they stretched her open, since they’re both huge, of course, being porn actors and all.

“Still not interested in trying one in real life?” I ask while I rub her back, already getting excited by the idea myself. I’d still much rather add another woman, but I’ve watched so much MxMxF porn since meeting Tracy that the idea doesn’t seem so strange anymore. I’m totally up for it, as long as my asshole is not part of the action.

“Nah,” Tracy says, although she looks like she wants to say yes.

“Another woman then?” I ask, praying that she will want that. I think that adding another girl would be way less daunting for both of us, and a good way to see if she likes threesomes as much as she seems to think she will.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” I repeat. All I’ve ever gotten out of her is a big fat NO, so I’m more than a little excited that her answer has changed. “Really?”

“I’m not saying yes, just… maybe.” She shifts and kisses me softly. “You talking about how hot your threesomes were all the time might have changed my mind a little. Now let’s order some pizza.”

I comply and pull the laptop into my lap, clicking away the porn website and typing in the address for the pizza place. When I’m entering the payment information, a reminder pops up from her online calendar. It’s a pop-up telling her that she forgot something yesterday. It’s only one word.

Dad.

My heart stops for a moment. She told me that both her parents are dead, and she hasn’t broached the subject since that night months ago, so this must mean that it was either her father’s birthday yesterday, or the anniversary of his death. Poor Tracy. I bet she wasn’t even truly busy this week, just avoiding me until she pulled herself back together.

“Hey,” I say softly, turning the screen in her direction and tapping it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She groans and covers her face with her arm. “Because I don’t like talking about it.”

“Is this why you didn’t want to meet up this week?” I ask, finishing the pizza order quickly and tossing the laptop aside. “You know I’m your friend, right? You can call me to hang out or just to talk. We don’t always need to have sex if you’re not up for that. I’d still like to be there.”

She looks up at me with annoyance clear in her steady gaze. “I’ve already got friends, Thomas. I don’t need you to hold my hand. I think we both know what this is that we’re doing, and it involves a lot of moaning and absolutely no talking about my parents.”

For the first time since we started this, I resent her a bit. Of course I knew what I was getting into, and it’s amazing having someone to bury yourself in whenever you want to, multiple times a week, but as sappy as it sounds, I do care about the girl. I come off as a total player, and I’ve done casual sex many times, but when I keep seeing a girl for longer than a few weeks, I tend to develop at least some feelings. I’m not in love with her or anything, but she’s not a casual fling for me anymore. She’s my friend, someone I confide in when I’m not doing so great, and I find myself texting her when I’m happy as well, wanting to share in the excitement over getting a new assignment from a client or winning a boxing match at the gym from an opponent more challenging than Dylan. I thought she felt the same about me, but apparently I’m only someone to give her pleasure in the bedroom.

“Look, I’m not trying to be mean or anything,” she says, seeing the hurt on my face. Her hand moves through my messy long hair and she twirls a strand around her finger. “I was in a really dark place this week, and I wanted to wait until I was back to my normal self before I called you.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you at your worst,” I say softly, pulling her into my lap so I can hold her. “We fuck all the time, we watch movies, we get drunk together, we talk about our exes, I’ve had my fingers up your ass and yours have been in mine… Do you really think that I care if you shed a few tears?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t cry, Thom. I told you that.”

“Are you saying that you haven’t cried about your dad all week?” I ask, a little surprised at that.

“This week is more than just the week my dad died,” she says, looking away from me with a hard expression in her eyes. “It’s the week my mom died as well. And the week I was born.”

Well shit. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better, so I just hold her, stroking her back, but her muscles are tense, and she doesn’t melt into me the way she normally does.

“It’s your birthday?” I ask, searching her face. She looks completely void of any emotion.

“Monday was my birthday,” she says in a steady tone. “My mom died two days after I was born, from complications of the birth that were discovered way too late. Dad sued the hospital, but to no avail. He died in a car crash a few days after I turned 18, and the anniversary of his death was yesterday. I think it’s safe to say this is the hardest week of the year for me.”

“No shit,” I mumble, which makes her smile.

She is smiling at a stupid comment I made after her telling me that this is the week she lost both of her parents and has to celebrate her birthday all alone. Is she a sociopath or something?

“Did you go to work?” I ask, hating the idea of her all alone in her apartment for seven days straight.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I go to work?” she asks, still running her fingers through my hair. “I’m not suddenly incapable of doing my job just because I’m having a bit of a rough week. I just don’t want to see anyone during my spare time, because people tend to look at me the way you look at me right now. With pity. And like they are waiting for me fall apart. Which I don’t do. Ever.”

“I don’t think that’s healthy,” I can’t help but say. “And I’m not talking about the crying. Some people don’t cry, that’s fine, I’m not a cry-baby myself, but I do fall apart sometimes, and I think it’s good for you to let it all out every once in a while. This week would definitely be a good time to scream and kick over a chair or something, yell at someone, get drunk, and just wallow for a few hours.”

“Instead I worked, slept, and called you over the moment I started feeling like myself again,” she replies with a shrug. “Works for me. I huddle up in bed when things get too much to bear, and I pretend that the world doesn’t exist. But that’s the only thing I allow myself to do when I feel like the world is crumbling around me. I cope. I don’t wallow.”

I’m starting to see why Michel couldn’t be in a relationship with her. If she was my girlfriend instead of my fuckbuddy, I’d be way more upset right now. In fact, I’m a little upset with her right now, although I know I have no right to be. I just don’t get it. Why would she go through this all alone when she’s got people who want to be there for her? If this is how she truly is, Michel is lucky that she cut him off and refused to get back together with him. This isn’t healthy. Not at all.

The bell rings, and I get out of bed, pulling my pants back on to the open the door. I’m starving, and my stomach rumbles when I think about the soft melted cheese that’s waiting for me right outside the front door. I open up with a greeting that dies on my tongue when I realize it’s not the pizza delivery guy.

It’s Michel, holding a bouquet of red roses and a bottle of scotch.

“You?” he asks, his eyes going wide. “Still?”

“Tracy?” I call out, not sure what to tell the poor guy. “Someone at the door for you!”

She steps into the hallway a minute later, wearing her silk red robe, her hair still a mess from our tumble in bed earlier. “Michel?” she asks, looking at him like he’s a ghost. “What are you doing here?”

He holds up the scotch. “Your dad’s favorite drink,” he says. “And your mom’s favorite flowers.”

Damn. After six months apart, he still shows up at the end of the worst week of her life. I bet he knows it takes her until the day after the anniversary of her father’s death to get back to herself. I bet he knows she wouldn’t want to see anyone until today. The guy is obviously still madly in love with her. Poor Michel.

“Oh, Michel,” Tracy says in the softest tone I’ve ever heard from her. She surprises both me and him by stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his tall frame. His eyes go wide and he’s standing there like an idiot, his hands still full of flowers and booze.

I move over and take them from him, making myself scarce. I leave Tracy and Michel in the hallway while I find a vase to put the flowers in. I put the scotch on the coffee table with two glasses next to it, and then I get dressed and slip out the backdoor. I don’t know what is going through Tracy’s mind, but I don’t think I should be here for what might be their reunion.

This fucking sucks.

I’m happy for her that she’s got a guy like that, who shows up for her even though he has every reason to never want to see her again. But this also means that chances are I just lost the girl I’ve been fucking for six months now. My friend. Someone I’ve grown quite fond of despite her being a deranged sociopath.

I guess Thomas Riley is back on the market for a new fuckbuddy.

Who knows, maybe I’ll even start dating again. It’s been a while since I last had a girlfriend, after all, and I do eventually want to settle down with someone. I’m not sure now is the right time for me to get involved with someone for more than fun and sex, but who knows. Maybe I should just get back on the apps and see if anyone catches my eye.

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