The Lie (33 page)

I explained to Kyle
that Heather was the first girl in recent memory to tell me no. He didn’t find it quite as amusing as I did. His lack of levity in those months was unsettling to me. He had, in a very short period of time, come to embody all of my own most misogynistic characteristics, without the benefit of tempering them with an overall carefree attitude. It was strange: Where I found amusement in the things we did to whores, it seemed he found nothing but a stronger desire to repeat the actions. He rarely smiled. Even when the absurdity of a situation was undeniable, such as forcing a whore to eat peanut butter off our cocks and then eat jelly out of her friend’s pussy, Kyle’s scowl and general discontent were ever-present.

It wasn’t that I minded the new sinister version of Kyle, but anytime the core qualities of a person change so drastically it usually is symptomatic of some deep-rooted problem that must be solved. I found myself more and more wishing for the return of my old friend. And perhaps all I would have had to do to facilitate this would have been to end the game we had begun to play with Heather, but I couldn’t. It was one of the greatest schemes I had ever been aware of, so exact in its justice. It amused me to no end and so I continued on.

No more apparent was this new version of Kyle than on the night after my first date with Heather. After our conversation about it, and after Kyle’s assurances that she would fuck me eventually if I persisted, Kyle insisted that I invite some whores to my house for us to demean. I obliged him.

I reasoned that because our scheme involved the wooing of Heather it probably wasn’t wise to invite over any whore from her sorority, or any whore from the entire student body for that matter. Kyle agreed. I knew a fair number of girls from other social circles, but I had exhausted many of my relationships with them through various acts of unforgivable sexual deviance. As it happened, on that night the first whore to favorably respond to my invitation was one of my stepmother’s personal trainers. Her name was Emily Charter. She was twenty-six and her body was of the sort that was more muscle than anything else. She wasn’t mannish in any way but neither was she as feminine as the average woman might be. She was novel and I had never actually fucked her. I had attempted to once before while my stepmother was upstairs taking a shower after a workout, but Emily was unwilling to jeopardize her professional arrangement. I assumed my stepmother gave a more-than-generous tip of my father’s money after each training session. Despite the fact that I wasn’t able to fuck her on that day, it was made quite clear that anytime I wanted to, I could phone her for meaningless sex. I did not tell her Kyle would be joining us, reasoning that it would be less difficult to ease her into the idea of a threesome once she was in my father’s living room drinking his wine. This strategy turned out to be successful.

I invited a single woman with no friends also as a sort of test I would administer to Kyle. Up to that point we had never engaged in fucking the same whore simultaneously. I had fucked many whores whom only moments prior he had fucked, but never had our cocks been in the same whore at the same time. I recalled several conversations Kyle and I had engaged in over the years in which he claimed this act of two men simultaneously penetrating the same whore represented in his mind the worst degradation a woman could undergo. I felt that if he was willing to engage in the act, then I would know with absolute certainty that he had become the very darkest parts of my own psyche and in many ways the very thing he used to claim he was the exact opposite of.

Emily arrived at my house in a dress. I had only ever seen her in some kind of athletic apparel. The dress was backless, revealing her every overly defined muscle from the back of her neck to the top of her ass. I introduced her to Kyle, whom she was surprised to see. I thought I was going to have to do much more coercing than I actually did in order to get her into the Jacuzzi.

The Jacuzzi was another test of mine. I had never seen Kyle fuck a whore in the Jacuzzi. Maybe it had something to do with the number of whores he had seen me fuck there, I can’t be sure, but for some reason he had, to my knowledge, never fucked a girl in the Jacuzzi. I reasoned that if he would fuck a whore at the same time I was while in the Jacuzzi then all traces of his old self had been erased.

Emily claimed she had no suit. This claim was, of course, met with the standard and mandatory counter that we could just all go naked, which she agreed to. When she disrobed I was stunned at the lack of fat on her body. I hated fat whores more than regular whores, but I came to realize all too quickly that overly muscular whores were the worst of all three. Her breasts were small and the striations of muscle beneath them were visible. It was strange. Not strange enough to deny fucking, but strange.

Once in the Jacuzzi we had a conversation that lasted no more than thirty seconds before I suggested that Emily kiss Kyle, which she did. I moved around behind her as she kissed him and started to rub her back, just testing the water in terms of discovering if she would allow the impromptu threesome. Not only would she allow it, but she herself reached back with one of her hands and grabbed my cock. I looked at Kyle to see what his reaction was to the event that was about to unfold, waiting for him to become uncomfortable and leave the Jacuzzi. The reaction never came.

As Emily pulled back from Kyle and started to kiss me, he actually raised her ass up out of the water and started to finger her from behind without hesitation. Her moans were evidence of her acceptance of what was about to happen.

I stood from the water and forced my cock into her mouth at the same time Kyle stood from the water, grabbed a condom from a small basket I kept by the Jacuzzi, jerked himself off to erection, put the condom on, and thrust himself into her so hard that I felt her teeth graze the base of my cock.

I looked down at Emily with my cock in her mouth and smiled. It was amusing to me. I looked across at Kyle and saw his face twisted in labored anger, a bead of sweat running down his temple as he fucked her like you might imagine a man might rape another man in a prison shower. There was no joy in this for him; there wasn’t even a release of any of his pent-up rage. It seemed that as he fucked her it only served to recycle and purify his anger.

In an effort to lighten his mood I reached across Emily’s back and held up my open hand, offering to give him a high-five while my dick was in her mouth and his was in her cunt. Instead of a high-five, he looked up and gave me a closed-fist punch to the hand, unable to enjoy the absurdity of how easy it was to demean this whore. It was more like he felt obligated in some way to return my high-five in a manner that would expend as little energy as possible so he could focus it all back into the rage he felt while fucking her. In all honesty, I was slightly scared that Kyle might accidentally slip into a psychology that would make him capable of a criminal sexual act that very night.

Thankfully he blew his load a few seconds later, pulled out, and vacated the Jacuzzi immediately. I remained and fucked Emily in the ass, accidentally causing her to bleed slightly. She was surprisingly a good sport about it, claimed that she had never done a threesome with two guys before, and maintained that she enjoyed herself. I couldn’t have cared less.

After Emily left I found Kyle in an upstairs guest bedroom watching an old UFC that was still on the TiVo. I tried to engage him in conversation about the night’s events, but he was uninterested. I wanted to confront him about his change in personality, make sure he was doing okay, ask if he needed any of my help, et cetera, but it seemed pointless. Instead we planned the next date I would have with Heather.

I got the first F
of my entire life a few days after I had my first three-way with Brett and his mom’s trainer. It was on a midterm in genomics and bioinformatics, a class I didn’t even need to graduate. I was actually interested in it and I still failed the fucking midterm. And it wasn’t even a difficult exam. It covered the basic standard technology used in most molecular genetics labs around the country. It was fucking memorization. I rationalized getting the F by telling myself it didn’t matter, I was already accepted at a pretty good med school, and the class wasn’t even mandatory for my major. Instead I should have seen it as an indicator that I was seriously fucking up my life and needed to snap out of it. But I didn’t. Instead I told myself I would make it up somewhere down the road on the next exam and end up pulling out a passing grade.

My professor even called me into a mandatory meeting to talk about my failing grade, because he fucking saw that it was a symptom of a bigger problem, but I didn’t. He offered me extra-credit opportunities and told me I could retake the exam if I wanted to, on a graduated scale so the highest grade I could get was a 75, but it was still a chance to bring up my score from the 52 I got. I told him I’d just study harder for the final and pull my overall grade up in the end. He actually told me he thought I was one of the smartest students he had seen in the biology department in a long time and he knew the reason I failed the exam wasn’t that I didn’t get the material. He was a cool guy and now I wish I would have listened to him.

Instead I left his office and went to Homebar by my fucking self at three in the afternoon and proceeded to get drunk. I knew Heather and her sorority sisters hung out there and it was my plan to keep drinking until the place closed just to see if one of them showed up. My plan failed when I passed out at the bar at around seven or eight and they carried me out into the street and put me in a cab. I got home and puked on my floor and didn’t even bother cleaning it up or brushing my teeth or taking a shower. I just got in bed and thought about Brett fucking Heather doggy style until he gave her herpes. Then I passed out.

I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Brett. I guess there were some guys from his frat at Homebar who had witnessed my binge drinking the night before and told him about it. He said he was concerned and thought I needed to take it down a notch. I told him to fuck off and went back to sleep.

I had to go to my parents’ house that day for a barbecue that my dad always did just before Thanksgiving. Some of my cousins would come over, and some guys my dad worked with, and he’d cook a bunch of shit and they’d all watch football games and drink beer. I got there an hour late, which my parents weren’t thrilled about, and proceeded to drink myself stupid fairly immediately. I’d say I pounded six or seven beers over the course of the first forty-five minutes I was there. I was almost too drunk to stand up, let alone carry on a conversation with anyone, and my mom and dad kept forcing me to talk to all of their friends, telling them how proud they were of me and what a great student I was. I had always been good at disguising my level of intoxication, but it was beyond me how they weren’t even the slightest bit suspicious. I don’t even know what I said to those people, but I’m sure it was gibberish. I’m sure my parents were really proud.

Then it got even worse when I got myself a plate of barbecued ribs and tried making my way into the living room to sit down for a while because shit was starting to spin. Instead I tripped over my own feet basically and threw the ribs all over my mom’s white carpet, spilled beer all over the same carpet, then fell down and puked on the same carpet. It was your basic record-scratch moment.

I should have been embarrassed by the whole thing but I wasn’t. Any normal human being would have wanted to die in that moment but I didn’t fucking care at all. I almost enjoyed it, the fact that I had ruined something. I stood up, puke still dribbling down my chin, picked up the half can of Bud Light that didn’t spill out when I dropped it, and took a fucking swig right there in front of the entire party.

My mom, I fucking love my mom, she came over to me and cracked a joke about having too much to drink and about how everyone’s been there, and then she took me upstairs, sat me in the bathtub, and started crying. I made my mom fucking cry and this meant nothing to me. I was twenty-one years old and my crying mother was cleaning puke off me in the bathtub and I felt nothing, no guilt, no shame, no sadness, absolutely nothing. That’s not true. I did feel something, but by that point it was the only thing I had felt for so long that it was almost like it wasn’t there. I felt rage. As I sat there in the bathtub letting my mother clean me and trying not to puke again I felt like I wanted to punch everyone in the face who was downstairs at the party. It was like no one got it. No one seemed to realize what a sham everything was. Marriage, love, trying to make someone happy and thinking they care if you’re happy…it was all a fucking lie and everyone believed it—everyone but me.

My mom cleaned me up, dried me off, and laid me down in my old childhood bed. She was still crying. She told me that she would love me no matter what and that I could tell her anything. Then she asked what was going on with me and I told her that I had just had a little too much to drink. She told me that ever since Heather and I had broken up she had noticed something different in me and it had gotten worse over the past few months. I told her not to worry about it. She gave me a hug and told me to go to sleep and I did.

I had been out
with Brett on like three dates, like where it was just me and him, and I had hung out with him once with some other guys from ATO and some of my sisters at Homebar. It was like probably a week before winter break and I still hadn’t fucked him and it seemed like my plan was working. Like the last time we went out he basically invited me to stay over at his house, so I knew he really wanted to fuck me bad. It was like basically impossible for me to keep from fucking him, too. He was so hot and he was Brett fucking Keller. So I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with a plan and sticking to it.

Anyway, that night he picked me up and he was like, “Tonight I thought we’d do something at my house. Is that okay?”

I pretty much already knew I had dragged out the no-fucking thing for as long as I could before he was going to lose interest so I was planning on fucking him that night. I was like, “Yeah, sounds good.”

When we got to his house he was like, “Come here, I want to show you something,” and he took me out in his backyard. It was kind of cold outside, so I hoped that whatever he was planning wasn’t going to keep us out there long, but I was curious. When we got out in his backyard, it was seriously like the most romantic thing I had ever seen. There were heat lamps, like the kind at restaurants, going from the back door all the way out to the gazebo. In the gazebo there was a little table with some candles on it and it was set up for us to have dinner. And to make it even more insane, Brett had like a few of the maids from his house out there to serve us. It was unreal. I almost couldn’t believe it was happening to me. There were a lot of girls who had been to Brett’s house just to fuck him and everything, but I had never heard of any of them getting this kind of treatment. I really thought my plan to like not fuck him for the first few dates was paying off. I mean why would he have gone to that much trouble if he just wanted to fuck me, you know? That’s what I thought anyway.

So we ate dinner and I don’t even remember what we talked about really. I think I was like, “Where are your parents?”

And he was like, “My father’s in Canada dealing with some business and his wife is in Florence with her sister.”

I was like, “Oh.”

I’m sure we talked about other stuff, but even as we were talking about it, I was forgetting it. I mean I was just so blown away by everything he did to make that night like seriously special.

So when we finished dinner we just left the gazebo and walked back inside. We just left everything on the table and his maids cleaned it up. It was so amazing. Back inside we had some wine and sat by this fireplace that was in a room I had actually never seen before. I mean I hadn’t like been to Brett’s house as much as Kyle had or anything, but I had definitely been over there at least a dozen or so times if you think about all the times I was there with Kyle when we were dating and everything. This room was really cool, though. It was like some kind of a study or something, but it was way bigger and Brett had set up candles everywhere, so the only light in the room was coming from the candles and the fireplace.

It only took like five minutes or so before he leaned in and kissed me and then we started making out and then he was like taking off my clothes. Honestly at that point I don’t think I could have held out if I had wanted to. It was like the hottest night I had ever had with a guy.

Once we were completely naked he laid me down on this rug that was like some kind of animal skin or something. It was really soft and fuzzy and right by the fireplace. It was seriously like straight out of a movie. Then he started fingering me and I was so wet I was almost embarrassed but I couldn’t help it I was so turned on by the whole thing. I was about to fuck Brett Keller.

I kind of got my bearings for a second and realized that I should probably be going down on him. I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t like doing blowjobs because I didn’t want him to have any reason to ever want to stop seeing me. So I reached down and started jerking him a little bit and then started kissing him on the neck and the chest and the stomach and then moved down to his dick.

Ever since my first blowjob I had always given a guy’s dick a quick once-over. It wasn’t like I was checking to see if it was clean or anything. I guess I just like to look at it, you know, to check it out and see what it looked like. Some dicks look really weird, some look really hot. So I looked at Brett’s and I noticed something that would definitely have been in the weird category. There were some red spots, like closer to the nuts than the head, on the shaft of his dick. I didn’t want to say anything. I mean, it was Brett Keller and this was the first time I was going to have sex with him. But there were these two red spots on his dick.

I put my mouth on the head of it for like one second and then I couldn’t help myself. I was like, “Brett?”

He looked down at me while my face was like an inch from his dick and he was like, “Yeah?”

I was like, “Um…I know this is kind of a weird question, but you have two like red spots on, you know…”

He was like, “Really?”

I was like, “Yeah, is it like cool for us to be doing this?”

He grabbed his dick and checked it out himself for a few seconds, found the red spots, and pointed at them. He was like, “You mean these?”

I was like, “Yeah.”

He started laughing and he was like, “This is kind of embarrassing but I guess I’ll tell you. The past few weeks that we’ve been going out, I haven’t really had any sex with anyone else. I guess I just felt like that would have been wrong so I needed to kind of, uh, take care of myself if you know what I mean.”

I was like, “Jerking off?”

He was like, “Yeah. And I kind of did it a lot and, uh, rubbed myself raw in a few spots.”

I was like, “Oh, really? It’s from jerking off?”

He was like, “Yeah. I know it’s really gross, but…”

I was like, “What were you thinking about when you jerked off?”

He was like, “You, mostly.”

That was about the hottest thing I had ever heard in my life. Brett Keller was thinking about me and jerking off so much that he rubbed raw spots on his dick. I gave him the best blowjob I’ve ever given a guy, and just before he was about to cum I stopped and got on top of him. I didn’t even ask if he had a condom or anything and he never stopped me to ask for one either, so I just assumed he was cool with it. At one point he was like, “Are you on the pill?”

I was like, “No.”

Then he was like, “Then we can’t finish like this.”

I was like, “You can do whatever you want.”

So he flipped me over and fucked me doggy style for a few minutes and then pulled out and I thought he was going to jerk off on my back, but instead he rubbed the tip of his dick around the rim of like my butthole and he was like, “I want to finish in your ass.”

I had never really been a fan of anal, and I kind of wished that my first time with Brett would have finished like in missionary or something so we could look at each other or whatever, but it was so fucking hot I really didn’t care. I was like, “Okay.”

He put it in pretty slow so it didn’t hurt that much but once he got going it hurt pretty bad. Luckily it only took him like a minute or two until he came. When he finished he pulled out and sat down on the rug. He was like, “There’s a bathroom over that way if you need it.”

I could feel his cum dripping out of my asshole, which was kind of gross, but I didn’t want to leave him. So I kind of snuggled up next to him and was like, “I’m okay.”

I didn’t really even come close to having an orgasm in anything we did that night, but I thought it was the hottest sex I had ever had. I was like, “Oh my God, that was incredible.”

He was like, “Yeah. Do you want to stay over tonight?”

I almost started crying I was so happy. I was like, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

We went up to his room and got in his bed. I mean I went to the bathroom in between and got as much of his cum out of my ass as I could, but then we went and got in his bed. He fucked me like five or six more times that night and into the next morning. And there were a few times that we didn’t even fuck, but he would just rub his limp dick like all around my pussy. We never used a condom and I never came. Like, in retrospect I should have paid a little more attention to those details I guess.