Twisted Thomas

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#27 Life is good


“Come for me, baby,” Michel grunts into my ear, drilling into me hard and fast.

I wrap my legs around him and try to get into it, but I can’t. When we started things an hour and a half ago, I could already tell that this wasn’t going to be my night. I tried to just suck him off and leave it there, but five minutes later he was ready for round two, and we’ve been at it for so long now that I feel like my limbs are going to start trembling from exertion soon.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, running my hands over his back. “Just come, baby. I’m okay, I don’t need to come tonight. It’s just nice to be close to you.”

Just like the last ten times I said something along those lines, he grunts and keeps going. He sits up, pulling me along so I’m in his lap now, and he keeps fucking me while he pushes a finger into my ass.

“Come on, Tracy, it’s so good,” he groans, sounding like he’s right on the edge. “I want you to come with me. Tell me what to do.”

I know what I need, but I’m not going to ask him for it. I need to watch porn. Hardcore porn where two or even three guys fuck a woman in all her holes, filling her up, taking complete and utter control of her. After what happened with Thomas, Michel confessed to me that me being into that kind of stuff makes him uncomfortable. It turned him on at first, and he enjoyed our experience with Thom, but it’s not something he truly wants to do again. He was only doing it for me. In fact, he didn’t even truly get called into work that night at The Palace. He made that up. He didn’t want to watch me and Thomas interact, and decided that it would be easier to only be there for the sex part of the night. The reason he suggested dinner before our second time was because he had a feeling that it was about more than just sex for Thomas.

And… he was right.

Fucking hell, he was more than right.

So yeah, I can’t exactly ask for porn anymore, nor can we talk about all my holes being filled up. I understand that it makes Michel uncomfortable and I wish I wouldn’t need it to get off, but I kinda do. When I’m exceptionally horny, he can get me off without any of that, but tonight, I need it, and I can’t get it.

My mind wanders to Thomas while Michel fucks me, and I moan. I close my eyes while I replay our threesome, and I feel closer than I have all night. It’s not fair to Michel, though, so I push those thoughts away again, trying to be a normal girl for once.

“You haven’t been this difficult to get off in months,” Michel groans before he pulls out and pushes me face-down on the bed. He straddles me, his cock pocking against my legs while he shoves a hand between my body and the matrass, rubbing my clit almost desperately. “Nowhere to go now, dirty girl,” he says in that deep, seductive voice I love so much. “Nowhere to run. All mine, naked and open for me for fuck you in every hole I desire. Maybe I’ll fuck your ass next…”

I moan loudly when I hear the purr of a vibrator. Michel lubes it up while keeping me down with his other hand, and then he slowly inserts it into my tight little hole. Fucking hell, that feels good. His fingers find my clit again, and he grinds against my ass with his hard cock, grunting and panting.

“You have no idea what you do to me, my little vixen,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my back before sitting back up. “It’s so fucking hot to have you underneath me like this, completely under my control. I can do this…” He pulls the vibrator almost completely out before shoving it back in, causing me to cry out in pleasure. “Or this…” Two fingers enter my pussy, curling and rubbing, making me scream.

“Or…” Michel’s voice is strained when he pulls out the vibrating toy and rolls a condom over his erection. He pushes the tip against me, slowly inserting the first inch into my puckered little hole. “This…”

Fuck. It took almost two whole hours, but I feel like I might come this time. He’s riding me hard now, not giving me any space to move or time to think.

“You like it when I fuck your ass, don’t do?” he grunts while he shoves himself even deeper in. “I can do whatever I want with you. If I want your ass, I can have your ass. I can fuck your pussy, your mouth… All of you is mine. Every…” He grabs my hair, pulling at it. “Single…” He’s so far in that I feel like I might burst. He’s just too big. “Inch…”

“AH!” I cry out in pleasure and pain when he starts to come, his cock twitching deep, deep inside of me. I’m on the edge myself, but he doesn’t seem to be on a mission to get me off anymore. Instead, he finishes and rolls off me, breathing hard.

“Oh God, Tracy, that was good,” he breathes, stretching out. “I’m so glad I made you come after all.”

Wait – what? It takes me a moment to regain my senses, and I roll onto my side and snuggle up to him, my head on his chest. “I didn’t come,” I tell him, realizing he thought I did. “That’s okay, though. I know I’m difficult.”

“Fuck,” he curses, sounding defeated. “I really thought… What else can I do, Tracy? Sometimes, I just don’t know what to do anymore. Do I need to spank you? Tie you up? Bend you over the kitchen counter? Can’t we ever just have regular sex ending with an orgasm for both of us?”

That’s not fair, and he knows it. I don’t choose to be like this. And I can get off from ‘normal’ sex, whatever that is. Missionary, I guess? Without dirty talk? Just not every night.

“I don’t need to get off every single time.” I kiss his chest before propping myself up on my elbow to look at him. “I like having sex with you whether I come or not. I’m okay with a quicky every now or then, even though I won’t come from that alone. Sex is about feeling close and making love, not just about orgasms.”

“Yeah,” Michel sighs, not sounding convinced. “I just… He got you off every single time.”

Oh no, it’s about Thomas. Again.

We’ve had this conversation a million times by now, and I’m so over it. I can’t tell Michel that, because I’m the one that cheated. The one that brought another man into our sex life. The one who gets off on talking about threesomes. Who watches porn all the damn time. I’m the sicko, not him.

“Baby, I love you.” I kiss him softly, trying to convey that to him. “I’m still here, aren’t I? We’re living together, I only sleep with you, I cut all ties with Thomas after that night. There is nothing more I can do to show you that it’s you I want. Only you.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know. I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” I kiss him again, and then I snuggle against him, throwing a leg over his while I feel my eyelids starting to droop. “It took us almost six years, Michel, but we’re here. Together. Committed. I’m trying. I really am. I know I’m far from the perfect girlfriend, and I’m sorry for that, but I am trying.”

“I know, honey.” His arms pull me closer and his lips press against my forehead. “I know you are, and I’m so proud of you. We’ll be okay. I know we will. You’re the love of my life. I’m not going to give up on you. Ever.”

“Good.” I yawn and sigh when he starts rubbing my back in slow circles. That always put me right to sleep. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he whispers. “Go to sleep now. Everything is okay. You’re safe with me. I love you.”


No matter how hard I try, things don’t go back to normal. It’s almost Christmas, and I’m in one of my worst moods ever, but Michel doesn’t even seem to notice. When I get home from work, I roll into a ball in bed, and some nights I don’t even get up to eat. He tells me to rest, and he rubs my back, but he doesn’t seem to get that this is what I was always warning him about.

These are my dark days.

When the anniversary of Uncle Greg’s death arrives, it’s all I can do to drag my ass to work. Delilah and Peter know that it’s a bad day for me, so they try to keep me away from the clients. I get to work with the animals all day long, and they bring me comfort. But then, at the end of my shift, Peter is busy and I have to put a sweet Labrador to sleep, while his owner – a 18-year-old girl – bawls her eyes out. I know that if it was Pumpkin, Snoopy or Oyster, I’d be a mess as well. I comfort the girl and assure her it’s better this way, that her loyal companion was hurting so much that it had become unbearable, but it still fucking sucks balls.

I can’t go back to the apartment. I just can’t. No way.

Just the thought of being with Michel right now makes me sick to my stomach. He wants to have sex with me every single night.

Every. Single. Night.

At first, that was hot, but it’s feeling more like a chore these days. And I can’t say no, because then he gets all weird about me not wanting him anymore, and he starts talking about Thomas, and all the times we broke up before. I can’t get into that with him today. I will fucking flip my shit.

Instead, I drive to the cemetery to put flowers on my parents’ graves. Uncle Greg isn’t here, he’s way up south, but I feel closer to him here than I have in a year. He was a sweet man, with his big belly and his grey beard. He was my dad’s brother, but he was nothing like Dad. Greg was sweet and kind, always pulling me in for hugs when I spent a weekend with him. He baked my favorite apple pie when I came over for the Holidays after my father passed away. For ten years, he was the only family I had, and I was his. Now, I don’t have anyone.

The closest thing I have to family is Michel. From the moment I met him six years ago, he felt like a piece of home. That’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him. He made me feel… I don’t even know. He just smelled and felt like home, even way back when, before we ever had sex or used the L-word.

If I’m perfectly honest… he doesn’t feel like home right now. My apartment doesn’t even feel like my haven anymore. I go into work as early as I can, come home late, and I sleep better when Michel has a late shift and I slip into bed before he gets home. I love him, but things are so strained right now, and December is a difficult month for me. Not as difficult as the month when my parents both died, but it’s pretty damn close.

After staring at Mom’s and Dad’s tombstones for a few minutes, I walk back to my car, my eyes still dry. I feel like shouting, crying, hitting something… I don’t shout, and I definitely don’t cry, but I could hit something. Or someone. I miss boxing with Thomas, Dylan and Aston so damn much. They kept me sane. Their easy banter never failed to crack me up, and I loved boxing. I miss it.

I miss Thomas. Way more than I want to admit, even to myself.

It’s too bad I can’t go back to the gym. Michel asked me find another gym so I wouldn’t run into Thomas, and I did. This gym is closer to home anyway, so it makes sense. I get why Michel doesn’t want me to be tempted by Thomas, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still suck.

I’ve got an old outfit and some sneakers in my trunk, so I drive to my new gym where I’ve only been a few times. Soon enough, I’m ready to throw some punches. This gym has no group lessons, but there are punching bags, and there is a large room that some guys use as a boxing ring, so it’s all good. While I put my earbuds in, I text Michel to let him know where I am, not wanting him to worry about me not being home yet.

Have fun at the gym, he shoots back. Send me a picture of you in your hot little outfit, will you?

I roll my eyes, but snap a picture anyway, sticking out my tongue at him.

What does the gym look like? Michel asks next. Take a pic for me.

Erm… okay…? I raise my phone and take a picture of the right side of then gym where I usually work out, sending it to Michel.

“Hey!” a loud male voice sounds through the place. There aren’t many people here tonight, so it’s obvious who is yelling at me. I take out my earbuds so I can hear his next words. “Are you sneaking pics of me while I’m bent over to tie my shoelaces?” He straightens up, and I see that he’s smiling, his brown eyes searching my face as he walks over. He’s with two friends and they trail after him.

“No, sorry, just taking a picture of the gym,” I rush to explain. “I’ll delete it.”

“Taking a picture of the gym?” one of the friends asks. “Why?”

I meet his gaze and I look into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, bright and enquiring. He’s got short dark hair and broad shoulders, tattoos wrapping around his biceps.

“Just a quick pic for my boyfriend.”

The blue-eyed guy looks at me with his brow furrowed. “He needs you to prove where you are? You need to take pictures to show him that you’re truly where you say you are?”

I open my mouth to tell him that it’s not like that, but then I realize that it is. Michel has been asking me for pictures quite often the past month. Is this why? It suddenly clicks in my mind, and I feel sick to my stomach. He doesn’t even trust me to keep my word and not go back to the gym where I will run into Thom. Doesn’t my word mean anything to him anymore?

“You box?” the man in the middle says, the one who was tying his shoes earlier.

“Yeah, a little,” I say, nodding at my gloves. “I was about to kick the shit out of one of those punching bags.”

“Nice.” The guy holds out his hand. “Elijah.”

I shake his sweaty hand, wincing a little. “Tracy.”

“Nice to meet you, Tracy.” He nods and then him and his two friends move on, getting ready to lift some weights. The one with the bright blue eyes looks at me one more time, searching my face slowly before turning to Elijah and saying something in a low voice, too soft for me to catch.

I shrug them off and start my warm-up. When I’m ready, I start practicing the combinations Aston taught me, hitting the punching bag as hard as I can. I feel my muscles burning and I love it.

“Hey,” a deep voice says behind me after a while, causing me to turn around, my gloves still raised, ready to pounce. The guy laughs. It’s the blue-eyed one with the tattoos. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Just came over to ask if you wanted to spar with me and the boys. We’re headed into the room on the side for a few quick matches, and you look like you could take us.”

I laugh at that. “You’re buff, bronzed gods. A tiny little blonde girl like me, taking you on? Please. I don’t stand a chance.”

“Maybe not against me, but William is a lightweight.” He nods to the last of the three friends, who indeed looks less intimidating. “Come on, we’ll go easy on you. Why hit a bag when you could beat the shit out of the three of us?”

I honestly don’t have a single reason to say no, so I agree with a shrug and follow him to where his friends are waiting. We spar for a while, and I am a match for William alright, but not for Elijah and the blue-eyed guy. He still hasn’t told me his name, but he is by far the kindest of the three, making sure that I feel included. They’re all police officers, on the force together, and they’re in their early thirties, a few years older than I am.

“You’re good,” Elijah compliments when I almost manage to hit him in the stomach. “For a girl.”

“You take that back, you neanderthal!” I exclaim, advancing again.

He laughs and deflects me, almost pushing me into the mat, but I bounce back and manage to hit him one more time before I’m wiped out.

“Easy now,” the blue-eyed cop says, pulling me to my feet.

“Thanks.” I’m breathing hard, worn out from fighting them for almost an hour now. “You guys go for it. I need a break.”

Elijah and William start fighting, joking around while they do, and the other guy leans against the wall next to me, watching me sip my water bottle.

“I’m James,” he says, extending his hand to me. “James Tyson.”

Something about that names sounds familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. “Tracy Packard.”

“Look…” He glances away from me and takes a deep breath. “I know it’s none of my business… but are you okay? You seem… sad, or something. And that whole thing with the picture and your boyfriend…”

“Oh, that was nothing,” I wave away his concern. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. Just needed to blow off some steam.”

“So your boyfriend didn’t ask you to say a picture to prove you’re really at the gym?”

I grunt. “No. He was just curious about where I’m working out out these days.”

“These days?” James asks, still looking like he thinks something is up. “You switched gyms? Why?”

I shrug. “Because.”

“Ah.” Damn, those blue eyes are so damn perceptive. “Your boyfriend told you to. What was it? Hot boxing instructor? Fellow boxer hitting on you? Someone staring at your ass when you were on the treadmill? What made your guy think he needed to get you the hell out of there?”

“Look, you don’t even know me,” I bite out. “Me and my boyfriend are doing just fine.”

“I don’t think you are.” He sounds so sure of himself. “Look, this is not me hitting on you like some creep. I’m seeing someone, actually, so this is just me talking to a girl at the gym who looks like she could use a friend. You’re right, I don’t know you, but I know my stuff.”

“What stuff?” I ask, getting even more annoyed now.

“I used to be that guy,” he says, staring at his friends hitting each other. “The jealous boyfriend, I mean. I used to ask my girl for pictures, making her prove where she was. Trying to cut the guys she was friends with out of her life. Lost many, many girls that way. Very unhealthy for both me and the girls I dated. It fucking disgusts me to think back to who I was back in the day. Don’t let someone treat you like that, okay?”

His confession takes me off guard. “Okay…”

“Look, me and the boys are here three nights a week, and some mornings as well, so I’m sure we’ll run into you again. Feel free to join us when you feel like it.” He reaches out to squeeze my arm. “It was nice meeting you, Tracy.”

“Yeah, you too.”

I watch him tell his friends he’s leaving, and then he’s gone. I stay for ten more minutes, but then I head home as well, ready for a hot shower.

I don’t know what to make of this, but I do feel better after my workout. Better than I have all week, actually. Michel notices right away and he perks up when I walk into the bathroom. He joins me for a shower, fucking me hard and fast against the cold tiles while the hot water cascades down on us, and when he calls me his filthy little whore, I come with a loud cry. I feel a little dirty afterwards, but I guess that’s just because it’s a weird-ass week for me.


We spent Christmas with Michel’s parents, and they are happy to welcome me back into their family. They never seem to mind that Michel and I break up and get back together all the damn time. They think Michel is the most amazing person ever, such proud parents, and they accept whoever he brings home with him. They’ve known me for a long time now, and they’re easy to talk to, but I doubt they truly care about me. If he’d bring over a different girl tomorrow, they’d be okay with that.

It’s been a weird year. One year ago, Michel and broke up for the fifteenth time, and threw myself at Thomas to move on. One year ago, I was single and on the rebound. Now, I’m living with my boyfriend, having dinner at his parents’ house, talking about their new curtains and the lovely dinner Michel prepared.

Life is good. Life is better than it was twelve months ago. Except of course for Uncle Greg not being there anymore, but he wasn’t here last Christmas either, having not long before. That Christmas was lonely as fuck, but this one isn’t. Michel makes sure to shower me with attention, love and gifts, making me feel like a queen.

Yeah, life is good.

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