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Back Devotion Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author
  47. About the Publisher

He was testing me. I brought my hand to his jawbone and stroked it gently. I was wet, the whole summer of sexual frustration coming over me. I choked down a sob, also conscious of the fact that if he touched me, touched me at all, I would come, it would take only a few seconds. He didn’t let go of my wrist, but moved his mouth down to my tits. I was aware of their smallness compared to Lonnie’s again. Even though I fit into her dresses, it still seemed a deficiency. As if he could read my thoughts, he said, “Look at these little-girl tits.”

He bit my nipple, hard enough to make me arch my back. He wanted me to be a teenage babysitter, some kind of innocent virgin ten years younger than I actually was. He slapped my breast, lightly at first, and then, when I showed no reaction, harder. He wanted me to cry as much as, if not more than, he wanted me to come.

The word “debasement” came to me, but it didn’t seem to apply. To debase myself would be to have sex with someone I didn’t really want. Someone I didn’t want like this. It seemed I had never wanted anyone as badly as this. I wanted James, and I didn’t care if he wanted me to act as a symbol of his own cliché rebellion, his own teenage babysitter sex fantasy. I wanted him for reasons equally as strange. I wanted Carlow more, but I wanted James too. I wanted the cock that had been in his wife inside of me. He had one leg between mine and I inched down, trying to rub against him. He slapped me again and I retreated. I was being indulged, the poor little match girl, in front of the daydreamed feast, and also punished for eating.

I reached my hand out, feeling for his cock instead. He let me hold it. He straightened his torso as I did, still pinning my left arm down, but looking down at me as I jacked him off. “Fuck me,” I said, and then repeated it, begging. “Please, please, please.”

Ignoring me, he came on my stomach and then collapsed next to my writhing body, finally letting my arm go.

“You want to fuck me?” he asked, and I nodded my head like an eager child. “You have to fuck my wife too. You want to fuck my wife?”

34

I’VE ALWAYS FOUND IT STRANGE, THE WAY WE TRAVERSE THE world of sex and then return as if nothing happened. The way one can do something as simple as chew scrambled eggs afterward, calmly, as if one were a different person.