Twisted Thomas

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#15 Am I a freak?


Michel opens the door of his car for me and helps me out, being the perfect gentleman. He presses a kiss to my cheek and wraps his arm around my waist, leading me to the small French restaurant that we both love. This is where we had our third, fourth and fifth date. It’s also where he told me he loved me after three months of dating.

And it’s where we broke up two times, but I’m deciding to ignore that tonight.

We’re trying to see if we can make things work between us again, because if we’re still nowhere near over each other after six months apart, that must mean something, right?

“You look sexy as fuck in that little black dress,” he whispers into my ear, his lips grazing my neck as he helps me out of my coat.

I smile, enjoying the mixture of cocky and gentlemanly that Michel is. I missed this. I missed him.

“Michel!” the owner of the restaurant says, walking over to pull him in for one of those manly hugs with a lot of back clapping. Lionel is a small, hairy man, with a warm smile. We’ve known him for years. “And Tracy…” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles lightly. “Lovely to see you again.” He turns back to Michel. “You still working at Giovanni’s, boy?”

Michel was trained in this kitchen, and he worked here for a little while, but he isn’t into French cuisine too much, and he wasn’t going to be more than a lowly kitchen help at this place, so he took the chance to work at Giovanni’s years ago. I remember how excited he was back then, ready to start something new.

“Actually, I got a new job,” Michel tells Lionel.

“You did?” I ask, surprised.

He nods, grinning. “It’s this hole-in-the-wall burger joint called The Stable, next door to that brand-new nightclub The Palace.

“Shaughna’s and Dshawn’s new business?” I ask. Shaughna used to be the waitress at Giovanni’s, and she made manager at one point, before deciding to start for herself.

“Yeah, Shaughna poached me from Gio,” Michel says with a smile while we follow Lionel to a table in the back. “It will mostly be feeding people ready to go out or grabbing a burger to soak up their booze, but I get to create the whole menu, hire and train my own staff, make all the executive decisions… And since the place will only be open four nights a week the first couple of months, that leaves me plenty of time to expand my catering business.”

“Oh, baby, that’s great.”

A huge smile breaks across Michel’s face as he sits down, and he grabs my hand, squeezing it. “You called me baby again. Oh, I’ve missed you so much, Trace. I’m so happy to have you back.”

My smile isn’t as bright, even though I am happy.

I’m happy.

Maybe not ecstatic, but I’m glad to have back the man I love.

Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’m happy about this. Why wouldn’t I be?

“Tell me about The Stable,” I tell him, sipping the champagne Lionel just put in front of us. “What does your menu look like so far?”

He starts talking about all the different things he wants to try out, from cheap burgers to gourmet food for low prices, and the way he moves his hands while he talks reminds me of so many nights we’ve spent lying on his living room floor after a heated session of sex on his couch, when he would tell me all about his plans for the future. His own restaurant with a catering business on the side, with food that everyone can afford, while still being special and tasty.

“What?” he asks mid-sentence when he notices me staring. “Oh God, I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I’m sorry, baby, I’m just so excited to tell you about everything you missed the past months. There’s so much I’ve been wanting to share with you.”

“Then share it with me,” I urge, sipping my drink again. “You know I love hearing you talk about your passion, Michel. Go on. You were saying something about pepper seeds?”

There he goes again, his voice getting louder from his excitement. I see people looking up from other tables, but I don’t care. This is my Michel. He’s serious, modest, a hard worker, but also a passionate man who is not afraid to go after what he wants.

Which is how he got me back, I guess. By not giving up even when he should have.

“Your appetizers,” Lionel says, putting a plate of seafood in the middle of our table.

“We didn’t even order yet,” I say, looking at Michel, knowing that this is his doing.

“I called ahead,” he confirms my suspicions, grinning. “I ordered all your favorites, babe.”

I grit my teeth. This is one of his only annoying qualities. I don’t like to relinquish control. Ever. Maybe for half an hour in the bedroom, and even that’s a big maybe.

“I’m not in the mood for seafood,” I grumble, leaning back in my chair.

“Oh come on, Trace, I know you better than anyone. You love oysters.” He winks at me and holds one out to me, watching me eat it with a twinkle in his eyes. “Remember that time we ate oysters at that restaurant in New York, and got drunk on champagne, making love in our hotel room until the sun came up?”

My anger subsides a little, and I smile at the memory. “Of course I remember that. It was our first weekend away together. The week before I met your parents.”

“They miss you too, Tracy,” he says, sighing. “They adore you. They were so sad to hear that we broke up, and they were glad to hear we got back together. Maybe we can go over to their place for dinner soon?”

Oh God, this is getting real so damn fast. That’s how Michel rolls, I guess, but it’s taking me off guard this time. We discussed how things were going to work this time around, and we agreed on two things. One: he is going to stop pushing me and give me my space when I need it. Two: I will try to open up more, allow him to see me on nights when I’m not at my best. I still don’t know if I will be able to do that, but I know I need to try.

“Maybe,” I reply vaguely, digging into our seafood platter and gulping down some more champagne. Michel watches me with fondness in his eyes, and I feel my cheeks grow warmer as the night progresses. He makes me feel like I’m home, and I haven’t had that feeling with anyone but Michel since my father died when I was 18, which is already ten years ago.

“I got a cat,” Michel says, taking me off guard.

“Oh my God, show me pictures!” I scoot closer to him and gasp when I see a fluffy white kitten, looking cute as a button.

“It’s a girl, a little diva,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear while he gazes into my eyes. “Just like you, my dirty little devil.”

I lean in to kiss him, sighing against his lips. God, I missed him so much.

“What’s her name?” I ask, looking down at his phone again.

“She’s nameless,” he says, his hand moving down my arm until he’s holding my hand in his. “I was waiting for you to come back to me so you could name her, baby.”

“Oyster,” I say right away, gesturing at our empty plate. “Call her Oyster.”

“Oh God,” Michel replies with a grunt. “I should have just named her myself. I don’t know what I was expecting after you called your own pets Pumpkin and Snoopy.”

“Don’t hate my babies!” I warn him, wagging my finger in his face.

He nips at it, and I laugh, running the tip over his full lips. He sucks my finger into his mouth and runs his tongue over it, his eyes never leaving mine. Goddamn, why is that so hot? I feel his hand slide up my leg underneath the table, right up my skirt, skimming the edge of my thong.

“Michel,” I moan softly, pressing my legs together. “Not here.”

He slowly releases my finger from his mouth and presses his lips to my neck instead, grunting against my skin. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” he breathes, sounding hoarse. “Six months is a long time to not be inside of you, Tracy. The other night was only a taste of what used to be.”

Oh dear God.

“Get the check,” I decide, finishing off my second glass of champagne.

“We didn’t even get our main course yet, honey,” he says in a teasing tone, enjoying how worked up he got me in a matter of minutes.

“I can be your main course,” I shoot back, my cheeks flushing. “Let’s go home.”

“Your place or mine?” he asks, getting up and motioning for Lionel to get our coats.

“Yours,” I decide, slipping my small hand into his big one. “I want to meet Oyster.”


“I’m sorry,” I pant, seeing on the clock that’s it been 45 minutes since Michel started. And still, I’m nowhere near close to coming. “I can’t tonight.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, kissing his way back up my body. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, I want to feel close to you,” I insist, pulling his body against mine and moaning when he slowly pushes into me. He’s so big, filling me up completely, making my walls struggle to make enough room for him.

“So wet,” Michel breathes, kissing me hard. “So tight. So perfect.”

He starts thrusting, and while it feels good, I know that I’m getting no release from him tonight, unless…

“Could we maybe…” I hesitate, moving my hands over his back. “Maybe if we…”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he groans into my ear, grabbing my hips and rolling me over so I’m on top, straddling him. “You know I will give you whatever you want.” One large hand cups my ass, a finger pressing against my puckered little hole. “How about we put on some porn and I fuck your tight little hole with my fingers while you ride me?”

“Oh God,” I moan, already feeling closer to an orgasm than I have all night. I’m such a freak. Why can’t I just fall apart after her boyfriend eating her out for ten minutes, like a normal girl?

“Fuck,” Michel grunts when I rotate my hips, creating delicious friction. “Oh, Tracy, no one has ever felt like you. No one. I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” I moan while he slowly inserts his finger into my hole, making me feel full.

Michel reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and looks up one of our favorite porn sites, dedicated solely to MxMxF threesomes. He finds a clip we’ve watched before, and turns up the volume, putting the phone right next to him so I can watch while we fuck.

The reason I like this clip is because the girl looks a bit like me, and one of the men has the same beautiful caramel skin color as Michel, so it’s easy to imagine that’s us.

“Watch him slide right into her while she sucks off the other guy,” Michel says, knowing exactly what scene is coming up just from sound alone. “You want to be that girl, don’t you, Tracy?”

“Yes,” I moan, riding him harder now. “One more finger, Michel.”

He pushes in a second digit, grunting when my walls clench around his cock in response. “You’re such a dirty little girl, Trace. I fucking love it. I wanna fuck that tight little asshole of yours soon.”

“Oh God yes,” I moan, remembering the last time we did that. He’s so big that we needed to spend a lot of time preparing me for it so it wouldn’t hurt too badly. It wasn’t so much the actual penetration that was hot for me, but all the dirty things he said to me. And the fact that he pushed a huge dildo into my pussy while he fucked me from behind, making me feel fuller than I ever had before.

“Imagine there’s another man here with us,” he says, his eyes locking with mine. “It’s not my fingers in your ass, it’s his cock. His huge, throbbing cock, ready to explode inside of you, while mine is in your tight little pussy. That turns you on, doesn’t it?”

I can’t even reply anymore. He starts trusting up into me while he fingerfucks my puckered little hole so hard that it hurts a little. His other hand grabs the back of my head and he sits up a bit, forcing his tongue down my throat.

I’m so close. So very, very close.

Behind my closed eyelids, I see blue eyes looking at me, full of lust, and I feel soft lips brushing over my skin, a deep gruff voice whispering into my ear that he will find us another guy to join us, to fill all my holes, and that I’m not a freak for wanting that more than anything. The memory of Thomas pushing into me with this very porn scene on the big TV in his living room, both of us watching together shoots through my head, and I come so hard I cry out into Michel’s mouth, almost biting his tongue.

“AH!” He grunts and buries his face against my shoulder, shooting his load deep inside of me.

We collapse onto the bed together and he pulls out, rolling onto his side, flipping me over as well so we’re spooning. Cum leaks out of me, but he doesn’t seem to care. His hand goes between my legs and he rubs my clit in slow circular motions until I’m back on the edge.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please, Michel, make me come. Please, I beg you, make me come again.”

“Oh honey,” he grunts into my ear, his cock already hard again and pressing against my back, twitching. “You don’t need to beg. I’ll give it to you gladly.”

With a start, I realize that I automatically tried to give him what he wanted, only… begging isn’t his kink. Again, those intense blue eyes appear before me, and as Michel picks up the pace, I come for a second time, imagining Thomas shoving his cock down my throat while Michel fingers me.

“You dirty little freaky girl,” Michel murmurs into my ear while he pulls up my leg and shoves his cock into my pussy from behind, still spooning me.


“Am I a freak?” I ask while he pounds me, my eyes watering even though I’m trying to choke back the tears with all I’ve got.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, holding me still so he can fuck me hard and fast. “My dirty little freak. Such a naughty girl, wanting to be dominated by two strong man instead of just one. Filled by as many dicks as she can get. God, you’re such a dirty horndog, Tracy.”

He’s said all of those words to me before, but before now, they’ve never made me feel so… gross. Michel’s hold on me is strong, and I suddenly feel claustrophobic.

“Let me go,” I say, not recognizing my own voice. “Michel, let go!”

He complies immediately, pulling out of me completely and making sure not to touch me anymore. “What did I do?” he asks, sitting up and looking down on my trembling body. “Tracy, talk to me! What did I do wrong? Did I hurt you? Oh baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t do anything wrong – it’s nothing we haven’t done before, and I used to be into every single thing he did and said – but I still feel weird. I get up, wipe myself clean and pull on my red robe, tying it around me like a shield.

“Trace?” Michel asks, looking worried now. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” I say, back in control. The stinging feeling behind my eyes is gone and I can breathe again. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What happened?” he asks, reaching for me.

I step out of his reach and shake my head. “You promised not to push this time, Michel. Everything is okay, I just… Don’t call me a freak again, okay?”

His eyes widen. “Oh, baby, that’s not what I meant. You’re not a freak. You’re perfect. I love every single thing about you. I shouldn’t have said that. It was just… you know, in the moment…”

“I know,” I sigh, stepping forward and getting back into bed, still in my robe. I hug him close, feeling bad for making him feel like he did me wrong. He couldn’t know I’d react this way. Hell, I had no idea I would have this reaction to a simple word that he’s said to me many times before.

“Thanks for telling me,” Michel says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I know this is you opening up to me. I won’t push for you to tell me what exactly happened just now, but I do know that six months ago, you never even would have told me what word it was that felt wrong to you. So… thank you.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, feeling weird again. “I need a sip of water. A moment to myself. I’ll be right back, okay?”

In the kitchen, on my own, I feel a little more like myself. Little fluffy Oyster is still awake, and I pet her for a moment, laughing at the way she attacks a piece of lint that’s on the floor, apparently looking like an enemy to her.

My phone is on the kitchen counter and I grab it, disappointed to see I’ve got no texts. With a deep breath, I unlock the screen and pull up my text conversation with Thomas. The last text is from a few days ago, when Michel showed up at my place.


One single word, but it cut me like a knife.

Thomas doesn’t even care, of course. I was just a distraction from Francesca to him. I know it’s not fair to hold that against him, since I used him to get over Michel. Still, I had hoped… Fuck, I don’t even know.

Sorry, I text him, for some reason wanting to talk to him. I got back together with Michel, so our arrangement is off.

I start typing another message to tell him that would still like to keep him as a friend, and to ask if it will be okay if I stop by tomorrow, but his response comes in before I can hit send.

Fine. I’ll find someone else to have a threesome with. Have fun with your hot chef.

Does he mean that to sound petty and mean, or is it just me reading it that way? Knowing Thom, he’s grinning while he types it. He’s probably happy for me that I got Michel back, and he might have a new girl in his bed already.

I’m not gonna show him that his text hurts. And I’m not going to ask him to stay friends. Not when he just told me I was pretty much only an easy lay to him. A cheap whore he could talk into having a threesome with him. I was willing and eager to try, feeling safe with him. I was even willing to go with another woman, because I knew he’d like that more than to add a guy to the mix. I was going to tell him yes, but then Michel waltzed back into my life.

As you know, Michel and I break up every few months, I text back, hoping to sound like I’m fun and flirty, instead of hurt and fucked-up inside. So I’m sure I’ll be back in your bed soon enough. Right when I’ve sent it, I realize that I’m coming off like I’m not serious about Michel, or that I’m trying to keep my options open. Fuck. That’s not what I meant. I start typing a message to explain that I’m not trying to get a rise out of him, but my phone buzzes with another text from him.

My bed might have a girl in it already, I reply. I’m out with friends tonight. Drunk and on the prowl. Who knows, I might find my next victim within the next hour.

Oh God. Thomas didn’t waste any time to replace me, did he? A fuckbuddy with no strings attached is easy to get over, after all. Just because I can’t get his blue eyes and messy blonde hair out of my mind doesn’t mean he feels the same about me.

I thought you were into threesomes? I type back, not even knowing what I’m going for anymore. I’m sure there would be room in your bed for me even if there was another girl in there with you already.

I wait a long time, hoping I will trigger a response, but my screen turns dark when my phone remains inactive for too long. With a soft curse, I gulp down some water and leave my phone in the kitchen, walking back into the bedroom, where Michel is waiting for me.

“Are you okay, honey?” Michel asks, pulling me against his warm, strong body. He wraps around me, and he’s so familiar that I melt into him without even meaning to. “I’m so sorry I triggered something,” he murmurs. “I promise never to use that word again, okay? I won’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” I scoff, turning around so I can look him in the eye. There’s that look in his eyes that I hate, the one that says he wants to protect me, to hold me while I break apart. “I’m perfectly fine, Michel. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“Okay,” he agrees, kissing me softly, melting away my anger again. “Good night, baby.”

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