But this time, I knew that books wouldn’t be my reprieve. Not anymore. That was the old me, and those good times were over.
But I had to try. So at my favorite desk, I dropped my backpack on the floor next to my chair, and tried to read up about eighteenth century poets.
It was no use. The words swam before my eyes, blurring into tiny ants that wavered across the page. I’d read something and immediately forget it, my mind wandering to the alpha male once more.
Goddammit! The voice in my head screamed. Save yourself! Do something!
But I couldn’t. I was hopelessly in love, and the impossibility of the situation wrenched my soul.
So I packed up my books, head bowed, hands like zombies. At least there was one thing I could do still. Something for me and me only.
Because I have a dirty secret.
I’ve been saving Jake’s cum.
It’s wrong, it’s disgusting, it’s absolutely whorish.
But every time I’m with him, I come home filled with goopy white. It’s sticky, warm and reassuring, dripping from my bottom. And I’ve been saving it.
After that first time together, my hands moved like they were in dream, like they didn’t belong to me.
It was an out-of-body experience, watching myself take the glass bowl from the kitchen cabinet and then squatting over it to squeeze Jake’s cum out of my ass.
Oh god, I’d almost orgasmed again, his hot white running down my thighs, a sticky trail dripping slowly into the innocent bowl.
But now, seven times we’ve had sex, and seven times I’ve milked my anus of his sperm.
Like I said, I’m a new person now. I don’t even recognize myself, it’s so wrong. I should be embarrassed.
But I’m not.
Because that glass bowl’s there, and now that I’ve lost everything, I want to do something with it.
I’m not sure what it’s gonna be.
But I’m gonna go home and look at it, contemplate the virile liquid beckoning to me from inside.
Because my mom and Jake are getting married this weekend, and maybe my lucky glass bowl is the last I’ll ever have of him. Maybe it’s my last reminder, my last token, my last taste, my last touch.
The realization made my chest clench, but my strides became faster, more determined on the sidewalk. Because yes, if that glass bowl of semen is all I’ll ever have of my stepfather going forwards, then I’m going to treasure it. This tiny bit, these virile remains of Jake’s masculinity are all mine … even if they have to last me the rest of my life.
CHAPTER NINE
Lacey
Thoughts crashed in my mind as I walked home, head down. What was I gonna do with Jake’s semen? All sorts of nasty thoughts swirled.
Drink it?
Smooth it into my pussy?
Push it into my ass?
The visualizations made me shiver, insides clenching hungrily. Because I’m a whore now, and I can’t get enough. Whatever the big man gives, I’ll take.
But when I got to the door of my dorm, the light was on. Immediately, my soul fell. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to contemplate his sperm by myself, to dip my fingers into the goopy white and reminisce, making myself feel better in privacy.
So what was this? Why had my roommates decided to stay home? It was Saturday night, and those girls are always out. Morose, I fumbled with my keys to unlock the door.
But my feet skidded to a halt.
Because he was here.
Sitting on the couch like nothing was wrong.
That huge, hulking form draped on the dorm sofa, blue eyes bright as he gazed at me.
I stammered.
“Ja-Jake? What are you doing here?” I closed the door numbly, too shocked to do anything else.
He tucked his phone away in his jacket pocket and shrugged.
“Thinking of you. Missing you. Nuthin’ wrong with missing your best girl, right?” Those azure eyes glimmered, filled with something, what I’m not sure.
And my heart almost broke then because those were the words I wanted to hear, but so much more as well. Because we couldn’t. It was forbidden.
“You can’t be here,” came my slow words, putting my backpack down by the door. “Please leave, Jake. Please.”
But he was a guy who was used to giving orders, not taking them. A slow smile crossed his face, blue eyes knowing. Casual and relaxed, the alpha leaned back into the couch, a male animal at ease.
“Says who?” came that lazy drawl. “This is a free country.”
Oh God. My heart thumped. Why didn’t he ever listen?
But my clit was already throbbing, the lips of my slit wet and ready to play. If only he’d put his cock there, it’d feel so good. It’d solve all my problems.
But no. That was wrong. That was magical thinking. Nothing would be solved by more sex with this man. In fact, the opposite. Things would be even worse. He should go and leave me in peace. Let me go back to being the boring college virgin who didn’t crave him all the time, horny and unable to concentrate. After all, this was insane. I shouldn’t still want him. It was too dangerous. Oh god, oh god. Why did my whole life suddenly revolve around this man, like Earth spinning around the sun, whirling non-stop?