WARNING: The following story contains very graphic content. If you are someone that might be disturbed by reading this material, like - I don't know - my mom or my sister (biological or otherwise), then I highly recommend that you don't read any further. I suggest that you skip to the next story So Help Me God instead. It's much safer. Look, I've even added a button here to make it easier:
That's it then. That's all I can do. If you proceed any further it is at your own risk.
Thank you for joining me for this Friday's Fresh Story!!
As I mentioned in my newsletter and my shotgun-blast-friendship-email, today's story has an accompanying contest. There is room for (2) winners. In order to claim one of the prizes you have to either
A) leave the first comment on this story in the comments section below - update: winner decided for this one
B) Leave the best comment in the comments section below. 'Best' being left intentionally vague. It could be the wittiest comment, the most observant comment, or whatever. Really, it's just whatever comment I am most impressed with. I'll accept entries for this one all throughout the week until next Friday's story is published.
So, of course you're wondering about the prize. Ok, so here it is then; the two winners of this week's contest will be featured in an upcoming story! That's right! I will write a story featuring you as one of the main characters. I haven't decided yet if I will combine the two winners into one story or do two different stories. I imagine that depends on who the winners are.
Anyway - thanks again for checking out my site! Without further adieu, here is today's Fresh Story
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All of the Things
My family only refers to her as La Diabla. Even when I was hanging out with her again briefly years later and we’d decided to let the past be the past and chalk everything up to being young and crazy. What can I say? our relationship was a shit show. Everyone has to have one shitty, shitty relationship in their lives, and this was mine. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve had several other miserable moments in my dating life, but as far as continuous anguish and permanent psychological damage goes, Aly takes the cake.
I had just come back home on leave. I was 19 years old and I was getting ready to deploy with my first squadron. We were leaving for Iraq in January. It was December of 2002 and I was in my dad’s living room, which used to be my living room, flipping through my yearbook from junior year. The thing about the Marines is that, as impressive as being a Marine might sound to the ladies, you find yourself mostly in places where there are very few ladies to impress. So when you go home it’s always a quest to find a girl to lay up with while you’re in town. I was going through the messages written in the back of my yearbook and searching for any signs of secret high school love interests that might want to catch up on old times. That is, that might let me get it in.
I came across Alison’s message in the back of the yearbook. I can’t remember what she'd written, but, whatever it was, in it I detected a subtle something that said, psst -- hey, Alex. I might be down for some mouth stuff or some hand stuff if you take me out to a Olive Garden and treat me nice and maybe let me talk a little bit about my photography during dinner.
Having successfully deciphered yet another hidden message from the opposite sex, I called up the number that she’d written down.
I should pause here to say that this was in the days just prior to texting. Some early adopters were doing it, but it was acceptable at this time to not have a texting option on your phone. That being said, trying to get laid required you to actually call the girl up on the phone. And have a conversation. And sometimes talk to her dad.
The number was to her parent’s house line, where she lived in high school. I spoke with her mom and I must have made a good impression because she entrusted me with Aly's cell number. I called and got the voicemail. I left some stupid message where I sang Jenny From the Block and worked her name into it. It was silly and stupid and I had a good feeling that it would work.
I was right.
She called me back and commented on my silly voicemail and we caught up on how we’d been in the last couple of years. We talked for a long time. We made plans to meet up in the city one night before I left to go back to New River. I brought my friends Mike and Brent along with me and Aly brought her friend Amber and we met at the Joe’s Crab Shack that Aly and Amber were servers at. We went here because their friends were working and we wouldn’t be carded. Mike, the only one over 21 (and, ironically, the youngest looking at the table) confidently ordered first. Once we saw that he wasn’t ID-ed, the rest of us went in on a pitcher.
We drank pitchers and ate fried appetizers all night. We left and decided that the next stop would be Aly’s apartment up the street and that we should grab some beers before we headed that way. We went to a large liquor store that was inside of a hollowed out warehouse and picked out a couple of different beers for the evening, loaded them up on Mike, then proceeded to graze around the French wine aisle while Mike went up front to pay for the booze. We were amateurs. The clerk, noticing that we had entered together, refused to sell to Mike unless we could all show proof that we were over 21. Mike left the beers on the counter and we made a swift exit. We played it smart at the next liquor store and sent Mike in alone with the money while we waited in the car.
We got back to Aly’s apartment and proceeded to plough through the beers and get louder and flirtier as the night went on. We talked about life, about our futures, about how we’d make it big one day and how different our lives would be once we were millionaires. I’m pretty sure Brent pulled his dick out at some point. That was the thing with Brent, though; there were at least a few of us who saw Brent for the awkward savant comic genius that he was. That being said, he could get away with things like pulling his dick out and swinging it around on the porch in front of two people that he’d just met that evening. He would do things like this in a very self-deplicating way; in a way where it was just funny enough to justify the vulgarity. It was his art and he was never perceived as threatening in the least.
We continued to drink like insatiable fools and chain-smoke out on Aly’s balcony. As usual, Brent was the first one to pass out. He did so slowly and gracelessly, as nonsensical drivel and outlandish almost-accusations poured from his mouth. He ended up curling up in the fetal position around the pot of a plant next to the unoccupied loveseat. This is where he stayed until the morning.
It was me, Mike, Amber, and Aly and we stayed up a little longer smoking and drinking cans of beer on the porch. Aly started yawning and we said goodnight to Mike and Amber and I followed her into her bedroom. Her room was clean and well decorated and the comforter smelled like dryer sheets when I laid down on the bed. She was in the attached bathroom with the door closed and I was sitting there in her bed with my clothes on thinking about how the night might end. My head was racing with the possibilities when she finally came out of the bathroom in a pair of boyshort panties and a t-shirt. She turned off the light and crawled in under the covers next to me. I lay there, paralyzed, analyzing her every motion and sound as she lay there beside me - waiting for any subtle sign that she didn’t want the night to end. Finally she rolled over and we started to kiss. We made out for awhile and I think I touched a boobie at some point before we eventually passed out. I woke up sometime during the night and wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I saw that Mike and Amber were curled up in a tight spoon on the couch. I was happy that my friend got some action too, but there was part of me that was jealous that Mike had gotten to fool around with Amber and I didn’t; I had an unrealistic desire to touch all of the boobies.
We got up the next morning and went to breakfast at The Flying Biscuit. We ate eggs hungover and exchanged quiet laughter as we talked about the night before. After breakfast was over we went out to the car and Amber gave Mike a hug and Aly and I hugged and I gave her a quick, somewhat awkward kiss before getting in the car and driving off. On the car-ride home Brent and Mike got into a lively debate after Brent accused Mike of stealing Amber from him. Aly and I tried to meet up again but our schedules did not allow it and I left for New River that Sunday.
Then I went away to Iraq. And we exchanged a few emails, a couple of letters, and I think one phone call. I think I got the voicemail. I was also staying in touch with my ex-girlfriend, Mary, with about the same frequency. I even had a conversation with her from the boat once - a conversation that would become infamous when I confessed it to La Diabla a year later.
I got back and looked Aly up when I was on leave. We hung out a few times and we thought we fell in love. I would soon find more and more excuses to take leave to Georgia to see her. One time I came down for a long weekend. I think it was Aly’s birthday, or something. By this time she was living with her cousin, Michelle, in Woodstock. We’d been hanging out for a while, but we hadn’t had sex yet, which I was weirdly okay with. It was me, Aly, her cousin, and two or three of their friends, and we stayed up all night playing drinking games and getting sloppy. Eventually it was bedtime and we stumbled away as Aly led me by the hand up to her bedroom. We crawled under the covers and began an intense, drunken make-out session. Her body was smooth and warm and tight and she smelled like pomegranate-scented shampoo. She was special to me. I was young enough to still let anyone be this special to me. I wanted our first time to be special.
I started kissing her neck. I reached around and undid her bra with one hand; a trick that I had only recently gotten the hang of. Her tits were unnaturally perky and they filled the cup of my hands. She held her arms out straight and I pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it to the floor. I began sucking and tonguing her nipples and feeling them get harder in my mouth as she ran her fingers through my hair. I slowly ran my hand down her stomach, feeling the warmth of her body. I stopped just short of the top of her panties and lightly touched the skin around her naval area with the tips of my fingers a little bit before reaching down between her legs and rubbing her pussy from the outside of the fabric. I did a few deep rubbing motions like this, pressing my middle finger in slightly while I rubbed. Then I pulled my hand up and cupped the side of her face, just around her jaw, and continued to kiss her. I reached my hand back down and lightly scratched the inside of her thigh with my nails. Then I brought my hand up to her stomach and slid it in just under the waistline of her panties and held it there. She started rubbing my forearm and I slid my hand in further and cupped her wet pussy. Her pussy was completely smooth, like it had never had hair on it before, and so wet that it spread out to the inside of her thighs. I reached down and started gently rubbing her clit in small circles. I could feel her getting wetter as I did this. I started kissing her neck again and she began moaning. She ran her hand down along my forearm and gently nudged my hand down further and, following this queue, I slid my middle finger out and rubbed the crease of her wet pussy before sliding it in. She released a soft, humming moan as I did this and sank the nails of her free hand into the back of my shoulder.
This was it, then. This was the farthest that I’d gotten with her in the few months that we’d been seeing each other. I was pushing my finger in and out of her pussy in deep, slow stroking motions and gently rubbing her clit with my thumb.
‘That feel good?’ I could feel the warm drunkenness in my cheeks.
‘Mhmm,’ she said, as she buried her chin into the corner of my neck. Then I pulled my finger out and started rubbing the crease of her pussy again as I kissed her down the side of her neck. She reached down and grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt and pulled it up to my armpits. I got up on my knees beside her and pulled it up the rest of the way and tossed it off the side of the bed. I stayed like that for a minute and looked at her there on the bed. The room was dark but there was a streetlight outside that shone through the blinds and her silhouette was white and soft and perfect as she lay there on her back.
‘God you’re beautiful,’ I said, and I reached down and rubbed the inside of her thigh.
‘Come here.’ She grabbed the outside of my bicep and pulled me down toward her.
I laid back down on my side and we started making out again. I kissed her neck and then down the middle of her chest, stopping to lick and rub her nipples briefly before moving down her stomach. I could feel her ab muscles quivering as I kissed deeply into the flesh around her naval and started pulling back the waistband of her panties. Then I leaned back up on my knees and slid her panties off along her legs as she lifted them up in the air. I laid back down on my stomach and started massaging the inside of her thighs while I leaned my big drunken face forward and stuck my tongue out and took the first deep lick up the middle.
Maybe it’s just my hazy, youthfully nostalgic memory, but I swear she smelled and tasted like strawberries. It was a perfect pussy. This was the kind of pussy that you would betray everything for. When it came to cunnilingus, my only real technique at the time was to shove my face in there and alternate between licking up and down and tonguing the clit. I even thought that I was pretty advanced because I knew that last part. So I wrapped my arms around her thighs from underneath and started doing my usual moves. She had her hands in my hair and was squirming around and arching her back as I tried to ignore the lower jaw pain that was already starting to set in.
‘Mmmm, go up a little higher,’ she whispered.
‘Yeah, up a little higher.’
‘Here, like this.' She reached down and spread the top part of her pussy lips apart with two fingers, like an upside down peace sign, ‘just lick this part with your tongue.’
I reached up and replaced her two fingers with mine and started licking the glossy pink flesh at the top.
‘Mmmm, like that,’ she said as she ran her fingers through my hair. ‘Just like that.’
I’m doing this for a while and rubbing her stomach and her thigh with my free hand and she’s moaning and pulling on my hair.
‘Oh yeah. Oh. Just like that. Just like that keep going,’ she said, in an out of breath whisper. ‘Oh. Oh I’m gonna cum.’
‘Just like that. I’m cumming. I’m cumming! ' Her whole body starts to spasm and shake and I move my neck with the jerking of her hips. I can feel her warm cum shooting out onto the little curved part just above the center of my top lip. I feel it running down my lip and onto my tongue and I keep licking her pussy as the swaying of her hips gradually slows down.
‘Okay,’ she says as she grabs my head by the temples and pulls me away. ‘Okay, okay, okay,’ and she releases a deep, slow breath.
‘God you’re sexy,’ I said, as I leaned back up on my knees. I rubbed the outside of her thigh and I could feel the goosebumps on her skin.
‘Come here,’ she said, as she sat up and grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me into her and we started kissing again. She either didn’t notice or didn’t mind that my mouth was still wet from her...well..her. I held my calloused, drunken hand to the side of her face, just under her jawline, and we kissed.
She reached down and started undoing my belt. ‘You should take these off,’ she said.
I reached down and finished undoing my belt and unbuttoned my pants. I rolled over on the side of the bed and slid my pants and my boxers off. I think I kept my socks on. She laid there on her back with her knees bent and up in the air and her legs spread open and I straddled in between them on my knees. She reached down between her legs and started stroking my cock in a pulling motion with one hand. I was twenty years old and my dick was in its prime. It was that youthful, veiny type of erection that could bust through drywall. That kind of firm, unyielding dick that could perform on command, no matter how much of a drunken mess I was.
I kneeled over Aly as she lay on her back with her legs spread open before me, stroking my dick, which was hard as a marble fucking statue.
‘You wanna get fucked?’
‘Mhmm,’ she said, as she bit her lip and nodded.
‘Yeah,’ she whispered.
She let go and I pulled back. I licked the tips of my fingers and rubbed it on the head then I spread apart her pussy lips with one hand while I guided the tip of my dick in with the other. I got the head in and worked it in back and forth, going in a little bit further with each push. God she was tight. It felt just as good as I thought it would. I was so happy to be young, and alive, and fucking a beautiful girl, and not in Iraq.
‘Oh my God that feels so good,’ I said as I made the first few deep, slow strokes.
Aly had closed her eyes and had a look of serious concentration on her face. Her lips were pursed and she was breathing out of her mouth.
‘God that's tight,’ I said, as I kept thrusting at a moderate pace. Then I lifted her legs up straight and hugged them together against my chest so that her body made an L-shape.
‘You like that?’
‘Mhmm,’ she said as she nodded and started rubbing her tits.
‘God that feels good. Oh my God. Oh God. Oh--’ I paused for a minute to make sure that what I was about to say was true before I said it. ‘Oh, I think I’m gonna cum.’
Shit! Here I was, fucking a beautiful girl, a girl that I really liked, a girl who’d made me wait months to get this far, and I was about to finish in under two minutes. I tried to think of everything I could to hold it out a little longer. Any kind of incestuous, perverse, grotesque image that I could conjure up, but I knew it was too late.
‘Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!’ I let go of her legs and they flopped down on either side of me as I quickly pulled out and a stream of pearl-white cum came shooting and pulsing out and onto her stomach.
‘Ohhhh, my God,’ I said in a deep exhale, as I jerked out the last bit of cum from the tip of my dick.
‘Are you fucking serious!?,’ Aly said, as she propped herself up on her elbows.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Ugh! You gotta be fucking kidding me!’ She leaned back on the pillow and put both of her palms up to her forehead in the classic what the fuck have I done? gesture.
‘What? What’s the matter?,’ I leaned over her. ‘Did you not want me to cum on you?’
‘Jesus Christ!,’ she said. ‘Get off me!,’ and she used both hands to roll me off to the right of her.
‘Oh I’m so sorry. Did I do something wrong? What’s the matter?,’ I said, as my tone became more pleading in nature.
‘Jesus!,’ she said as she got up off the bed and stormed out of the room to the bathroom across the hall. She was still completely naked.
I put on my boxers and laid there in the bed, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. Was it the cum thing? Was she really that upset that I came on her? Where else was I going to cum? Was she mad that it was so quick? Okay, yeah, not my best performance, but, you know, I did go down on her for like half an hour before that.
I was laying there, thinking about all of this, feeling that wet, post-coital shrinkage sensation in my dick, when I heard the fan in the bathroom shut off and the door open. I watched her as she walked in the room to see what expressions I could make out on her face in the dark. She walked in and, without saying anything to me, went straight to her dresser and put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.
‘Everything okay?,’ I said, as I perched up on one elbow on the bed.
She got into the bed and pulled the covers over her. She was laying on her side on the edge of the bed, with her back to me. I reached over and put my hand on her shoulder.
‘Hey,’ I said.
‘Don’t fucking touch me,’ she said.
I pulled my hand off of her shoulder. ‘Hey, what’s the matter?’
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ she said. ‘I just want to go to sleep.’
‘What. What did I do?’
‘Alex.’ She partially turned back to look at me over her shoulder, ‘just leave me the fuck alone and go to sleep.’
‘Alright, uh. I guess we’ll talk about it in the morning?’
‘Yeah, just let me sleep.’
I turned away from her and lay there on my side and kept thinking about the night’s events over and over, trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. Needless to say, this was not how I wanted our first time to be. Within a few minutes I could hear her lightly snoring. I’m sure that I passed out eventually, but it feels like I spent the whole night awake wondering what I’d done.
In the morning, when she woke up, Aly proceeded to explain to me that I had raped her last night. This is something that had not occurred to me at all. Of course now, in hindsight, I can replay the story in my mind and I know that this was not true. But I was young and naïve and I loved her and I was completely unaware of the profound depths of manipulation that people were capable of. I believed her and I was disgusted with myself.
That day was one of the most miserable days of my life. She spent the entire next day describing in vivid detail what a piece of shit I was for having sex with her when she was drunk and I spent the whole day agreeing with her and begging for her forgiveness. After enough begging and crying and making enough proclamations, she finally agreed to give me another chance. We were going to stay together, but the dynamic would never be the same. I had done a horrible thing and she had forgiven me and now she owned me. The prospect of having sex again anytime soon was completely off the table, but I didn’t care. I was just so grateful to not lose her.
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When Aly wasn’t busy manipulating fresh-faced young men into complete subservience, she was an aspiring actor (who would never refer to herself as an actress for some reason). Her current gig was acting like she was waiting tables at Apres Diem by the Midtown Arts Theater in Atlanta. They’d been voted sexiest wait staff in Creative Loafing that year.
June 27, 2010
Topic: Sexiest Restaurants in Metro Atlanta - food.
‘Apres Diem once got ‘Sexiest Waitstaff’ from Creative Loafing's Best of Atlanta back in 2003 or so. Granted, a number of the CL staffers were dating a number of the Apres waitstaff, so it followed. I was a semi-regular there so, at least back then, I agreed with them. The food, however, isn't exactly sexy, and I haven't been back in a while to gauge the crowd.’
Aly was getting fed up with the limited acting prospects in Atlanta and wanted a change of scenery. She’d heard that Wilmington, NC, about 45 minutes away from where I was stationed, was the Hollywood of the East Coast (a wildly under-researched claim that turned out to be not true at all). That was it then; she would be moving up to Wilmington to pursue her acting career and, as a bonus, we would be closer together. I booked a U-Haul and me and her dad packed all of her things into it and she and I drove up to Wilmington together in early November. She gave me a blowjob while I navigated the 24ft truck up Interstate 74.
Things were perfect. She got a cute little one bedroom on the third floor of an apartment building just outside of the city. She applied for a job at Elizabeth Pizza and the owner told her to come in the next day for an interview and to have the menu memorized. I stayed up all night with her quizzing her by calling out an item and having her recite the description of the item, word for word. She called me at work the next day to say that she got the job and that she would be starting that night.
It’s hard to pinpoint a particular incident or time when things started to become unhinged, but, shortly after she moved to Wilmington, there was this sort-of staleness to the air. She would make me feel guilty and disgusting about all sorts of things that I’d done in the past. Before long, I found myself sitting on the floor of her living room, calling up ex-girlfriends and telling them, in no uncertain terms, how I had never loved them and regretted ever being involved with them, all while she sat across from me and wrote down things for me to say on a notepad. Suddenly I was calling up my friends, again under her direct supervision, and explaining to them what a shitty person I was and that, if they knew the real me, they wouldn’t want anything to do with me. She was having me make my rounds and burn all of my bridges, one-by-one, until she was the only thing left in my life. That’s the way she wanted it. Of course I had my doubts. Of course I had the fleeting thought that this was, perhaps, not the way that a normal, healthy relationship was conducted. But, if she had taught me anything it was that, under no circumstances, was I to trust my own judgment over hers. My brain was cracked with the perverse madness inside of it and she was the light and the way and the only hope of curing myself from the sickness within. I just remember being so thankful to have her in my life. I remember thinking how lucky I was to have someone here to watch over me and make me a better person by protecting me from myself.
In the middle of all of this she had happened to meet Pastor Mark Stryker one day at work. Not too long before this she had decided to become a born-again Christian and, therefore, we were only allowed to do oral and anal - because God was totally cool with those two. She was going on and on about this guy, about how he was a prophet and how he ran a homeless ministry and how he was a true man of God, etc., etc. I met Mark and we became friends and I started volunteering with him and became a member of his church; a black inner city church where the services lasted four hours and they spoke in tongues.
Shortly thereafter, I found out that my unit would be deploying to Iraq at the end of February. Without saying it explicitly, Aly informed me that she would break up with me if I deployed to Iraq again. Losing Aly was not an option so, having a decent knowledge of the Bible and feeling fairly confident in my abilities to bullshit, I filed for a conscientious objector status citing a religion-based irreconcilable aversion to violence and war. I was promptly blacklisted by everyone in my squadron and yanked off of flying orders. After a formal interview, my application for a conscientious objector status was denied based in no small part to the fact that my alleged Jeudeo-Christian-based objection to participate in acts of war was completely contradictory to the overwhelming abundance of Yahweh-condoned violence and slaughter in the Old Testament. So I was told that my story didn’t check out and that I would not be exempt from deploying. But it was too late. The damage had already been done. My squadron was deploying in a few weeks but the higher-ups didn’t want me back. My CO called me a cancer to his unit and said that I needed to be removed before I infected others. Instead of deploying, they sent me over to MAG to work in S-4. They stuck me behind a desk to rot away the rest of my enlistment and I never flew again. But I still had Aly.
My unit deployed and I stayed behind and made the commute to Wilmington everyday after work to get yelled at and have butt sex with my sadistically manipulative girlfriend. We stuck it out for a few more months, partaking in a few high-profile fights; one involving a four-inch-thick, multi-version Bible being flung down at me from the third floor balcony and another resulting in a black eye that I would never admit the source of to anyone.
Aly broke up with me in May. Citing a claim that I made when she first moved up to Wilmington to be there for her no matter what, she informed me that no matter what included her breaking up with me. That being said, I was told that I would have to continue to pay the rent on her apartment for the remainder of the lease, whether we were together or not. She further informed me that, should I choose to renege on this offer, she would proceed to throw herself down the stairs or obtain bruises on her body in some other way and contact my command and claim that I’d beaten her. I wasn’t sure if she was actually crazy enough to go through with it, but she definitely wasn’t sane enough for me to test her. This was blackmail and I accepted it. I agreed to continue to pay for her apartment until her lease was up in November.
There was a solid month and a half after the break-up where I was completely inconsolable. Nothing made me happy. I stayed in my room and listened to Bright Eyes and wanted nothing to do with anyone. But then the most unexpected thing happened. One morning I woke up, flung my legs out of the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. I remember sitting there, slouched over with my elbows on my knees and with my forehead propped up on the tips of my fingers. It was then that the thought first came to me and I winced upon receiving it like someone had just whispered something in my ear that was too audacious to believe.
‘Dude,’ I said to no one as I lifted my head up and stared out in front of me. ‘Fuck her.’
-- the end