Avery and Jenna Pt. 13

"Holy shit!" She shouted aloud. It was so hard that her knees buckled. She did not have time to resituate herself before Avery had grabbed her and lifted her again, giving the opposing buttock an equally powerful slap.

"Oh!" Erin shuddered. Her first instinct was to grip the couch. Fortunately, she did so before a third strike fell upon her left cheek. It was so strong, it caused her knee to collapse. Avery, kindly, helped her reposition herself.

"You want me to fuck you?" He shouted at her.

"Yes," she fired back at the same volume. Immediately following her response was a fourth fierce strike against her, this time on her right cheek.

"Oh! Fuck!"

"Say it! Say you want me to fuck you!" Avery screamed at her, quickly slapping each cheek twice with slightly less vigor. Not that it mattered, as the sting was as potent as it was when hit her with full power.

"Oww! I want you to fuck me! Oww!" She barely stated between the strikes. Avery violented tugged on Erin's hair, stretching her head upward. She screamed at the rough treatment.

"Avery, you're hurting me!" She pleaded. Shortly thereafter, two more savage strikes blasted against her skin. Two lines of tears begun streaming down her face from her eyes.

"Say, 'I want you to fuck me'," he whispered into her left ear. After doing so, Avery grabbed Erin by her throat and compressed firmly. Unable to respond to him, she struggled to make do with the last, immensely unsatisfying breath within her lungs.

"I want...you...to...fuck me."

"Say it again, Erin. Say it," he taunted, squeezing her throat tightly. Erin kept her hands firmly onto the couch, for she believed that, despite his treatment of her, she was in no actual danger. Her trust in Avery was found to be well-placed, as his hand momentarily ceased its grip, allowing her to capture a handful of precious, deep breaths. Just enough to sustain her for a second period of choking.

"Say it, Erin. Say you want me to fuck you," he whispered into her ear again.

"I want...you...to fuck...me," she eked out, burning through the remainder of her air in the process. Convinced, Avery released her throat and grabbed her by the waist. She wasted no time, drawing into herself a deep inhalation. Her face and buttocks were reddened, like a crisp, ripe apple. Avery kissed her on her left cheek, tasting the salty pearl that trekked slowly from her eye. Using his left hand, he moved Erin's underwear, what appeared to be a black thong, out of his way. Sliding up and down her slit with his index finger, he was amazed to see how sodden Erin was. It felt as though it were literally dripping out of her. Excitedly, Avery positioned the head of his furious erection just outside of her hole.

"Don't take it easy on me," she spoke with as high a volume as she could muster. Obediently, Avery dug his full length into Erin's restrictive entrance. With such speed and ferocity, Erin's head raised to the point where the back of her head met her neck and a rattling scream exited her body. As if she were demonically possessed, her growl was guttural. Her body had no time to adjust before Avery began to fuck her, pumping into her with blatant disregard. Up until this moment, the only sensations she had experienced were pain. Her body translated that immense pain into immense pleasure as her delicate flower was penetrated. The room began to spin and all sense of time and balance abandoned her.

Were it not for Avery's strong hands holding onto her waist, Erin would have fallen to the side, completely overwhelmed by so many sensations, in their most extreme manifestations, assailing her. Her ass cheeks, raw and tender from their earlier use, no longer offered pain any sanctuary. Those red marks now brought her nothing but indulgence. As if given a powerful prescription medication, she felt high. Her consciousness appeared to hover somewhere above her body. From its height, it could look downward upon its shell. Shapely. Firm. Authoritative. Her consciousness acknowledged what Avery believed about her: Erin was royalty. Royalty was deserving of a fucking such as she was receiving. A robust, passionate, brutish fucking.

Soon afterward, Erin's consciousness stormed within the bone walls of her skull, granting to her, new presence of mind. The first thing of which she was cognizant was the line of fluid running down her thigh. She had unintentionally wet herself. Indignity unlike any before in her life prevailed. That was, until she realized her fingertips and toes were tingling, her nipples were rigid and pointy, like rocks smoothed and sharpened from decades of weather and water erosion, and her abdomen imploded upon itself. What was leaking down her thigh was ejaculate. All the signs of a most gratifying orgasm, much like the one she experienced when Avery first choked her. It was so rampant, so overwhelming, that her mind could not properly interpret it.

The second thing of which she was cognizant was Avery's grunts. They were not like a human or animal. They were like an aggressive, monstrous entity. Something driven by a singular imperative. Perhaps it was her delirium, but she could not feel any semblance of the person she loved within her, even though he was, matter of fact, several inches within her. What she felt, however euphoric it was, was still hollow and ghastly. That was not as she wanted it to be. Erin wanted the man she loved. Mind, heart, body, and soul. Instead, she seemed to be getting only his sexual desire. It was in this moment, that Erin longed to drift into her reverie. To reach that mental plane, where her dreams were reality, she was going to need help.

"Choke me! Choke me! Choke me!" She shouted to Avery as the sound of flesh rapidly pounding against flesh reverberated in her ears. When his hand applied its strength onto her throat again, she closed her eyes and relived the memories of their more recent encounters. The kiss-their first kiss in more than five years-in that cold, dank stairway of their former employer's building. Their first time together in her apartment, where he fucked her in a manner not unlike how he was doing so now. Her first experience with anal sex, where she proved to herself, and to Avery, that she could handle anything that he could throw at her. These experiences, all sexual in nature, would forever be etched in her mind as some of the best she would ever have.

Once again, Erin felt as though she were hovering above herself. Looking downward, she could see the arch of her back and the roundness of her blood-red ass, peeking out of the ripped brown leggings. Her yellow dress was bunched up. She could see the hand of her lover squeezing her throat, depriving her of an essential element to exist. Avery's hips were moving at a scorching pace. At least eighty or ninety thrusts per minute. It was, at first, exciting. That thrill steadily declined, as her consciousness began to close its eyes from exhaustion. Decidedly, it struggled to continue viewing the brutal fucking its shell was enduring, for it truly was a spectacular show. Unfortunately, it felt so tired. So...voided of strength.

Avery did his best to keep his eyes open as the all too familiar rush overtook him. Pulling himself from within Erin meant removing his hand from her throat. Inhaling for the first time in almost a minute, she reeled from the quake of a second climax. Meanwhile, the first spurt of Avery's cum splashed onto her right cheek. His second spattered onto her left cheek. His third, and most substantial spurt, flew into the center of her ass. Its reach extended to the small of her back. Erin dropped her head downward as the cum sizzled atop her hot skin. Avery alternated, coating as much of her ass as he could. Concluded, he slapped his cock against her red cheeks, and then he glided himself between her cum-soaked buttocks.

It was over. Erin fell to her left side, coming to rest upon the couch. A wide, wet circle on the couch came into view after being obstructed by Erin's presence. She breathed slow and deep, trying to recount the events. Did she have two orgasms? Was it three? Inconsequential. Slowly, the cool blue of her irises parachuted back down from underneath her eyelids. Her eyelashes trembled. Her entire body, from various strands of hair to her adorable feet, quivered. Her gaze identified nothing in front of her. Avery dropped onto the floor, dripping sweat from his forehead and achy in various parts of his person. The events of last weekend, separated from him by time, still weighed on him. Fucking Erin now, only served to further deplete him.

"Avery?" She said weakly.

"I'm here," he replied, peering at his present lover.

"I need you...to listen...to me," she spoke, as her head swayed side to side.

"I'm listening."

"If...we...are going...to keep seeing each other...," she stopped shy of finishing her sentence. Avery crawled to her, concerned about her behaviors.

"I'm here," he assured her. "I'm here, Erin."

Erin's mannerisms remained unchanged for twenty minutes. Avery stayed nearby the entire time, making sure that nothing was seriously wrong. Her head stopped shaking first, and the rest of her body soon followed, but it was a slow process. Her skin released minute traces of steam, no doubt from the cold atmosphere in the apartment and the sweat accumulated on her. Avery did not touch her, for fear that she was somehow traumatized or in shock. Observing her as she was, he believed he had been a little too aggressive with her. Erin gradually landed from her liftoff. It took her longer than usual; she aimed for the moon but found herself lost somewhere amongst unfamiliar stars. The entire session was, for the most part, enjoyable to her.

"Avery?" She weakly called to him.

"Yes, Erin?"

"Listen to me," she spoke, eerily parroting her earlier comments.

"I'm listening."

"If we're going to keep seeing each other, what just happened can't happen too often," she stated, almost incoherently.

"What do you mean?" He questioned. Her eyes slowly moved to stare at him, as though they were riding a treadmill on a broken track.

"I knew you were mad at me. I was a little upset with you, too. I thought some angry makeup sex was what we needed. If we're going to make this work, you cannot fuck me like this all the time. I physically cannot handle it," she explained.

"I understand," he replied.

"It felt like I meant nothing to you," she said bluntly. "Like I was just some whore you pay for a night without limits."

"That's not true, Erin."

"Am I a whore for liking it? Because I liked it. All of it," she said softly. Her eyes turned away from him momentarily.

"I was too rough with you," he said earnestly.

"You were angry with me. I was angry with you. It was angry sex. It felt incredible. I just don't think I could withstand the hitting every time we fuck."

"I just got really excited. I honestly didn't mean to act like I did just now," he said, moving closer to her. Erin's sight returned to him.

"Avery, relax. I enjoyed it. Yes, it hurt and I'm exhausted, but I enjoyed it."

"Do you still love me?" He questioned. Slightly smiling, Erin reached out her hand and grabbed one of his.

"I'll never stop loving you, Avery."

A BLESSING; A CURSE

Spin classes were not Janelle's forte; she much preferred hitting the barbells or running sprints. Since moving back to Baltimore, she experienced some abdominal bloating. Bloating that did not dissipate even after she changed her diet to remove known gassy foods. After weeks of being unable to squeeze into her skinny jeans, she stepped on a scale. It was not bloating - she had gained fifteen pounds. Fifteen pounds may not appear to be much; in fact, the average pair of eyes probably would not see it. Janelle, on the other hand, believed she had a great understanding of her body. She was active throughout grade school, participating in soccer and track, although she excelled at neither of them. They served a practical purpose, rather than a symbolic one. Janelle came to terms with her weight gain, attributed it to stress and overeating, and enrolled herself in a local gym. Spin classes were like her sports in school: practically applied.

Today was an especially difficult class, hosted by a new instructor named Chloe. Chloe had the body of an athlete; bred from Caucasian and African American parentage, she had a torso of moderate length, and muscular legs that ended nowhere. Janelle caught only glances of Chloe, whose coarse, curly, chocolate-colored hair shimmered with sweat as she waved her class farewell for the day, but there was something about her that excited Janelle. Sadly, she did not get to have much face time with her new instructor, as her attention was being given to other trainers. She caught only glances of her, but they would be more than enough for Janelle to get off tonight. An alternative would be to simply pay Avery a visit, who would likely be willing to indulge her. Truth be told, Janelle wanted to see him again. Her fear was that, if she tried to get together with him too soon, she would appear lonely. Worse yet, desperate.

The trip home from the gym was a fifteen-minute jog, and the setting sun was greeting the horizon, painting the sky shades of orange and purple. It was just low enough to be beautiful and just high enough to provide her with security. As cars whizzed by, her strong legs galloped a respectable seven miles per hour down a narrow, cracked sidewalk. Before rounding the corner to her street, she stared at the café where she and Jenna met weeks ago to discuss Jenna's idea for a threesome. Janelle spared a moment to honor that memory before reaching the street where her apartment was. Stopping to stretch her muscles after her run, she examined herself in the window of the apartment building's door. Her midriff was completely visible. She had on a matching black sports tank and leggings, decorated with a floral pattern throughout the material, and a white sports jacket covered her back, shoulders, and arms in the frigid air.

After walking into the narrow hallway, she turned to her right. Against the wall were ten mailboxes. Removing a set of keys from her jacket pocket, she opened her box. Inside were three items: a set of coupons to the Chinese restaurant underneath her apartment, a letter from the Penn State Alumni Association, likely seeking a donation, and a letter from her company, Moorings International Marketing, an advertising company specializing in everything from banners, billboards, and posters, to clothes and furniture. She was not expecting something from her job. It was not the typical correspondence; it was a manila envelope and stamped with a red "urgent" decal on the front of the parcel. Tearing open the envelope, her azure eyes read the news it contained, and what wonderfully welcome news it was for her. Upon reading it, she jumped up and down, celebrating victory for a battle she did not know she was fighting.

Opening the door to her apartment, she tossed off her jacket and tossed her fists into the air. Janelle made sure to read the letter two more times to verify that it did, in fact, say what it said. Upon finishing it for the last time, she dropped a small tear onto the bottom of the page. Placing the paper onto her couch, she walked into her small kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. Her thoughts flashed back to last Monday evening, when Jenna visited her for dinner. Closing her eyes tightly, she smelled the air. As if by magic, she could still detect the scents of Jenna's hair and skin. Reaching upward with her right hand, her fingers traced around her lips. Janelle puckered them slightly, as if she were kissing her own hand. In her mind, her lips were pressed against Jenna's. Her friend of twenty years, whom she admired, desired, and loved. Janelle's idle hand autonomously graced the doors of her temple, appropriately reacting to her musings.

*RING, RING*

Buzzing on her phone was the ringtone of a friend to whom she had not spoken for a very long time. Initially, she chose to ignore the call. If it were coming from this friend, right now, it could only be bad news. Janelle allowed the call to go to voicemail. If a message was left, then she would respond accordingly. About a minute passed, and her phone did not make another sound. Removed from her daydreaming, she drank her bottle of water until it was emptied. Her ponytail dripped sweat between her shoulder blades, which then trailed down her firm back. That same drop of liquid salt cascaded downward towards the small of her back before being chilled away by the ringing of her phone. Once again, it was the same person, as revealed by the ringtone. Annoyed by the disturbances, she squeezed the plastic bottle in her hand, popping the lid into the air. Storming over to her jacket, she pulled her phone from a zipped pocket.

"Hello, Maggie," she stated, feigning enthusiasm about her call.

"Kia ora, Janelle! How's it going?" Maggie asked. Maggie's words oozed with an alluring accent.

"Everything's going well, babe. Just got some great news about work, there's a hot new instructor for my spin class. You know, life is good right now."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it."

"And how's everything going for you?"

"Not as good as you, from the sound of it. One of the providers at my hospital had a stroke, so I've been pulling extra shifts to make up for his loss. It's been a tough few weeks. I was supposed to have last weekend to rest, but I received an unexpected visitor to my apartment Saturday morning," she stated.

"Oh? Who was it?" Janelle asked with a smirk on her face.

"One of our mutual friends. Her name's Jenna. Do you remember her?" Janelle squeezed the phone in her hand so tightly that it bent under the pressure.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember her. How's that sexy fox doing?"

"Not too good. It seems that she and her boyfriend, another mutual friend of ours, separated recently. She won't name names, but she told me that it happened because someone she trusted slept with her boyfriend. Do you happen to know who that may be?"

"Oh, cut the bullshit, Maggie. Just say what you want to say," Janelle spoke excitedly into the phone.

"Jenna won't say, but I know it was you, Janelle."

"So, what if it was?"

"Janelle...Jenna has been bawling her eyes out since she got here. That and sleeping. I can't get her to eat anything. Not even chocolate. What the hell did you do?"

"I did what I always do, Maggie. I wanted something, so I went out and got it," Janelle stated bluntly.

"You're such a smart and beautiful woman. You could have had anyone you wanted in the world. Why did it have to be Avery?"

"Because that's who I wanted."

"But why? There's millions of guys out there. Any one of them could have taken Avery's place."

"You know that old saying guys like to use: 'bros before hoes'?"

"Yes."

"What's the female equivalent of that?"

"One doesn't come to mind immediately," Maggie replied after some thought.

"Exactly. You know, as well as I do, women must fight tooth and nail for everything we want. Money, prestige, and yes, sometimes even men. That's all I did. I fought for what I wanted."

"What about, 'sisters over misters'?" Maggie joked.

"Huh. That's actually pretty good," Janelle decreed. "The point I'm trying to make is: I don't want some random guy. I want Avery. Why can't I strive for the things I want?"

"One, he's not a thing. Two, he wasn't available. And three, Jenna's gravely disheartened by what you've done," Maggie said into the phone. Hearing those words, Janelle's eyes began to flood with tears.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," she spoke, as her voice cracked and a tear shredded the cells down her cheek.

"I believe you, Janelle. I truly do. You know how highly I think of you, but even I can't find a silver lining in this situation. What you did...it was low, Janelle. It was beneath you," Maggie asserted. Janelle began to sniffle into the phone.