Just One Drink (28 page)

I was glad my grandmother never mentioned it.  I was glad for her company too.  I had never spent much time with her since she lived across the country, but she seemed to be very nice and understanding of my whole situation. 

Still it was hard, especially with Mason trying to get in touch with me at every possible moment.  My phone would ring constantly.  He would try to call me and I would just never answer.  My email was bursting with messages, my social media cluttered with notifications.  I wanted to block him, but I never had the heart.  I just ignored him.  For some reason, I was glad he was trying so hard to contact me. 

I think it made me feel like he still cared for me, at least on some level.  So I let him message me as much as he wanted, but I would never message him back. 

Then one day, everything changed.  I logged into my account and there staring at me was a picture of my sister holding a positive pregnancy test.  My sister was pregnant with
Mason’s
child.  No.  Anything but that. I tried to refresh the page, thinking maybe I was just hallucinating, but there it was again, staring at me like some hideous monster.  I wanted it to go away, but it wouldn’t. 

I looked through the comments on the picture and was disgusted to see people congratulate her.  If only they knew the truth.  I wanted to yell it out to the world that my sister was nothing but a boyfriend stealer but I didn’t have the heart.  Instead, I turned off my computer and cried myself to sleep. 

I stayed in bed for a couple of days, trying to disappear.  I didn’t have the motivation to get up.  Honestly, I didn’t see the point of living.  What was the point when out there somewhere your sister was having a baby with the man you had once loved?  She was having a baby with
my
dream guy.  It wasn’t fair.

Eventually, my grandmother convinced me to get out of bed and do something.  I did.  It was then that I went on a work binge.  I drowned myself in work.  I was determined to forget all about them.  If they wanted to crush my world then I would just build bigger and stronger walls around myself.  I threw myself into my studies, took on multiple jobs, and made sure I was always busy. 

I didn’t want to have any time to think about them.  I even deactivated my accounts, not wanting to see any pregnancy updates.  Through all of this, I didn’t notice that the pleas Mason sent me to come back were still coming in, although less frequent.  Even though he had gotten my sister pregnant, for some reason, he still seemed to care about me.  I still ignored him not even bothering with him.  Eventually, I even had the heart to block him.

I thought life was moving in a new direction.  Who needed them?  Not me.  I was getting good grades in college and making new friends.  Plus, I had a grandmother who was an absolute angel and made the best cookies.  Slowly, but surely, I was starting to forget about them.  Yes, it would still hurt now and then, but I could feel my heart slowly starting to heal.  I know that in time, I would get better. 

Until, of course, I got a phone call I never expected to receive.  It was about nine months after that horrible night.  I had told my mom that I didn’t want to know when the baby was born and, amazingly enough, my mother had promised not to bring it up.  I wondered why she was calling me.  We always spoke on Sundays, but this call was on a Thursday.  We never spoke on Thursdays. 

When I picked up the phone my mom was in hysterics.  Her voice was cracked from crying and I could tell something was seriously wrong.  I tried to calm her down, but it was no use.  Her voice was gone and it would be a long time until she calmed down.  My father ended up picking up the phone.  I nearly dropped mine when I heard the news.

“Addison, your sister died in labor.”  My sister was dead.  I couldn’t believe it.  I would never see her again.  The sister that had once been my other half and who I last saw while she was fucking my boyfriend, was dead.  How could life be so cruel?  Did I really need any more heart break in my life?  I wanted to scream and shout.  If there was a God out there, why did he let things like this happen?  It wasn’t fair. 

Eventually, my mom got on the phone again and through her sobs she begged me to go back and attend the funeral. I couldn’t deny her.  This was my sister, of course I had to go to her funeral.  I was not too thrilled about going back to my hometown and facing all the people I had abandoned, but I also knew that I couldn’t ignore my family at a time like this.  So I did what any good family member would do and packed my bags within the hour and the next day I was on a plane toward my home town, causing me both tremendous joy and pain. 

Chapter 7

I arrived about two days before the funeral was scheduled to take place.  I tried to keep a low profile.  I didn’t want anyone from my high school knowing I was back home.  I especially didn’t want Mason to find me.  But who was I kidding?  Everyone knew I was back.  It was impossible not to. 

Mason ended up coming to the house the day after I arrived.  He was carrying something in his arms and it was only then that I remembered the baby.  I was so caught up in the death of my sister that I had completely forgotten about the baby.  I hadn’t even bothered to ask if it had survived or not.  I guess I had just assumed that it had died along with my sister, but apparently not. 

It was very awkward when Mason and I made eye contact for the first time in nine months.  I just wanted to run out of the room, but I knew I couldn’t.  His eyes were red as if he had been crying for a long time.  I knew I couldn’t leave him like that.  While I had hated his guts for a while, there was still a part of me that loved him.  He may have betrayed me, but I also knew that he had been drunk.  Maybe, if he apologized for what he did, I could find it in my heart to forgive him.

We ended up sitting down together on the couch.  I looked over at him and he was holding his baby girl.  I thought that maybe if we focused on the baby, then we wouldn’t have to talk about prom night.  So, I sat a little closer, looking at the baby for the first time.  I took one look at her and I was already in love.  She looked so much like my sister.  She was beautiful. 

I didn’t know it then, but I would come to love that baby more than life itself.  I took one glance at Mason and said softly, “She’s beautiful.” He nodded, quietly, as if afraid to talk.  I had never seen him so quiet, especially not around me.

“Addison… I… I don’t know what to say.  I’m sorry… I know it doesn’t mean much, but I hope you believe me.  I know it’s a lot to ask… but I hope one day you find it in your heart to forgive me.”  I could tell he was being sincere as he pleaded with me.  He had never loved Avery.  He had always loved me.  He knew the moment the alcohol left his system just how big of a mistake he had made.  He had beaten himself up over it constantly and I felt bad for him. 

“Mason… don’t…”  But he continued, unable to stop himself.  He had to tell me.  He had to explain himself, even if I wouldn’t listen, he had to get it off his chest. 

“I… I… drank too much… and that’s no excuse… I know… but Avery was touching me all over and I thought it was you… I thought you were trying to be extra sexy since it was prom night… and the alcohol made me confuse you two… but I should have known it wasn’t you… I was a damn fool, Addison… I’m sorry….” Mason was sobbing now.  I couldn’t stand to see him like this. 

To my surprise, I hugged him.  We sobbed together.  It had been a rough night for the both of us.  It was a mistake we would both never forget, but mistakes were made to learn from, not to cry over.  I looked at him and in that moment I forgave him.  I don’t know why I did.  I vowed I never would, but in that moment, I knew I had forgiven him.  There was no way I could stay mad at him, not with him this heart broken.  It was hard enough seeing him cry.

I don’t know if I forgave him so easily because I loved him so much or because I loved my niece, but I did.  After that hug, everything seemed to fall back into place.  Mason and I started to have decent conversations again and I found out that nothing about Mason had changed at all.  He was still the goofball I had fallen in love with. 

I learned that he had stayed with Avery only because she was carrying his child.  I also learned that he had thought about me constantly while he was gone and that if Avery hadn’t been pregnant he would have gone after me.  He told me that I was the only girl for him and that I would always be the only girl for him.  He knew he didn’t have the right to ask for my forgiveness, but that he would never rest until he got it. 

It took me a while to admit it to him, but eventually I did tell him that he was forgiven.  I didn’t want him to be miserable for the rest of his life.  In the end, I never did end up moving back in with my grandmother.  I ended up staying in my home town, with my mom and dad, partly because they needed me after my sister’s death, and partly because I wanted to be near Mason. 

We ended up spending a lot more time together and it was nice.  I liked spending time with my niece.  It made me feel like a mother.  By the time she was about two months old, I had made my decision.  I grabbed Mason one day, knowing I would have to tell him in person.

“Mason, there is something I need to tell you.”  He looked worried as he rocked little Isabella in his arms.  He was a good father to her and I was proud of him.  He was handling being a single father very well, but still, he didn’t deserve to raise a child all by himself. 

“What… what is it?”  He finally asked, looking up at me.

“Well… believe it or not… I still love you… a lot… and I think that you still love me… and Izzy deserves a mother… and I think that I deserve to marry the man of my dreams…”  I let the statements hang in the air, hoping he would pick up what I was putting down.  To my relief, I saw his eyes go big before he hugged me tightly.

“Oh… Addison… you are the most amazing person in the world, you know that?  I can’t believe you would do this for me!”  He was in shock.

“I’m not doing it for you.  I’m doing it for
me
.  I know I wouldn’t be happy with someone else and if I don’t save Izzy now, then you will make her play tennis the moment she learns how to walk!”  We both chuckled, knowing it was true.  After that, it was all smooth sailing.

Chapter 8

After my proposal, it didn’t take long for Mason and me to get married.  We treated Izzy as if she were our own daughter, knowing that when the time was right we would tell her the truth, but for now, I was enjoying the sensation of being a mother. 

I didn’t know it when I was a freshman and when I first started to go out with Mason that it would end up like this.  I always knew that we would be together in the end, I just never expected anything like this.  But then again, rainbows only emerge after the rain, and likewise happy endings can only occur after some heart break first. 

So, here I am now, thirty years old and with an eleven year old Izzy on my hands.  She had grown up to be a beautiful young lady and while she already knows I am not her real mom, she still continues to treat me like one.  I couldn’t ask for a better daughter or husband for that matter.  It just goes to show that life doesn’t always work out the way you expect it to, but in the end everything works out, one way or another.

The moral is that you should never live with regrets because everything always happens for a reason.  I ended up finding out, shortly after marrying Mason, that I was sterile and that I couldn’t have any children.  It was like Avery’s child was some sort of godsend.

Later on my family learned, through Avery’s autopsy that she had a very violent looking tumor growing in her brain.  Had she not died in labor, she would have died a very painful death at the hands of cancer. 

Always remember, everything happens for a reason, remember that, no matter what.  Also, remember that everyone deserves a second chance, even if you think they don’t.  We are all human in this world and we all make mistakes, some bigger than others.  Without forgiveness in our world, it would be a dark, dark place. 

THE END

Sometimes I wondered just what the hell was wrong with me. It was like, in a lot of ways, I just did not allow myself to be content with life... I wouldn't allow myself to just accept how things were and be satisfied, even if what I had happened to be precisely what I'd wanted it to be at one point in time. Rather, it was like I just kept wanting more, more, more, craving things even if I knew them to be bad for me and my life on any number of levels.

Even when, in fact, the things I was craving, actually proved a threat to the life I'd once so desperately pined over, and worked so hard to ensure panned out in the precise manner I'd craved once upon a time. It was all so... So pointless, in a way, trying to satisfy myself, because I knew that one thing would just always lead to another.

At the end of the day I would either just keep on chasing my tail until the cows came home, so to speak, or else I would eventually cross the line and end up pushing everything I'd lived for up to that point in my life over the steep, steep edge of a cliff.

I felt as though I had porn to blame for a lot of this... It was, I suppose, giving me some unrealistic standards as to what normal sex could be like between average human beings. It was forming in me an impression that those extreme carnal acts that were caught on camera were little more than run of the mill activities that could be carried out by your average Joe and Jill without any fear of consequence.

After all, porn videos didn't generally come with the sort of “Don't try this at home” warning labels that you might expect upon watching something whose effects could be disastrous if duplicated by an amateur. Or, at the very least, I'd never come across such a warning, and if they did in fact exist they had so far to elude my detection.

But, I suppose, more than likely, the makers of such lascivious content must have had some expectation that the viewers of their smut would have enough good sense to know rather intuitively that you did not try to carry the actions of highly experienced porn stars into your average, everyday sex life, and it was, therefore, entirely upon myself for eschewing such good sense and thinking that I could go about trying to indulge my ridiculous sexual fantasies regardless.

I was in something of a peculiar relationship, I suppose, or at least peculiar in the sense of what I might have traditionally expected. In that I, the female of the couple, had a far higher sex drive than Jonathan did, the male of the couple, and could get turned on by just about any damn thing. Whereas he tended to need just a bit of prodding before he could get comfortable with my many lurid intentions for him.

This generally didn't pose a huge problem, but it did make me feel fairly limited in terms of just how wildly I could explore my deepest, seediest fantasies. There were a lot of damn things I fantasized about trying out with that thick veiny cock of his, yet inevitably I found myself restricted to only a very small fraction of those agonizing desires, given his general squeamishness about taboo sex compared to my own overwhelming drive for it.

The thing was, though, that aside from our differences in the bedroom, the two of us were, more or less, something of the ideal couple. I mean, we were in sync on a lot of awfully damn significant levels. Dedicated to making one another happy to the extent we could do so. Interested in a lot of the same subjects and hobbies, and with such a great romantic chemistry that it sometimes defied comprehension.

If only the two of us could get our sex drives leveled out to some reasonable degree that would work for the both of us, and quite honestly things would more or less be ideal. Either I needed to curb my enthusiasm just the teeniest bit (a notion that seemed absurd to such a fun, sexy girl as myself). Or else he needed to ramp things up just a notch or two or three, which I also, quite honestly, didn't see as all that much of a likelihood. But I did have an idea, however, a way to keep things spicy between in the bedroom for the two of us- something that would keep things interesting for yours truly without imposing any real inconvenience or anything on his part.

At present, he was lying in bed beside me, snoring slightly as I stared at his nearly naked body. His ripped physique and his heaving chest. His visage as he slumbered beside me getting me so worked up inside that I found myself scarcely able to contain myself from pouncing on him outright right then and there. Instead, though, I decided to ease him a tad more gently back into consciousness.

Slipping my hand into the fabric of his boxer shorts, and letting my finger sink down around the shaft of his presently flaccid cock- a challenge, to be sure, but one I was more than up for facing.

I began to stroke him in his sleep, and after some time of doing so to just a slight fraction of growth from his genitals, Jon stirred rather suddenly from sleep, looking momentarily confused as he gawked at the hand down his undies, but then looking over at me through his bleary eyes and smiling rather playfully.
“Well, hello there...” 

“Make love to me...”
I whispered, burning for him even at this hour of night.

“Oh God...”
he began to rub the sleep from his eyes, and to protest, rather feebly, might I add,
“I'm pretty damn tired, you know... I was just sleeping, in case you hadn't noticed...”

But by this point I could feel the flaccid little noodle of his penis beginning to grow engorged with blood flow. The limp shaft beginning to thicken, the heat of its growth feeling remarkably satisfying in the clutches of my grip. He sighed heavily, and I could almost detect it the moment his resolve was shattered. This happened rather routinely, actually... Well, not this specifically, but me seducing him into craving sex when he might otherwise have been uninterested in the prospect for the most part.

My runway now clear, then, I promptly proceeded to whip the covers away from his crotch in order to clear myself up some space. Then I pulled his inflated cock out from beneath the fabric of his boxers, and continued to stroke his hot shaft more readily until it was nice and plump and ready to penetrate.

Then, just to ensure that he was as ready for my pussy as he could possibly get when the imminent moment arrived. I worked up a generous quantity of saliva in my mouth, spitting it forth onto his prick and proceeding to rub it up and down all over his shaft. God's lubricant as I liked to think of it, getting him so slick and so wet that it caused me to begin growing more aroused than I might possibly have intended to be.

I savored the squelching and grinding as my wrists began to grow tired pumping up and down all along the veiny course of his shaft, my body tensing up with desire for the male meat of my well-endowed boy toy, and my anatomy heating up so fully that I began to tremble from head to toe for him.

It took some degree of effort to work my body out of my panties in bed like this. Scooping my knees up to my chest and managing, with some degree of stupid fumbling, to pull the lacy things down along my ass to my knees. Pushing them down my shins and at last peeling them off down from around my ankles, and kicking them from the bed altogether.

I then promptly climbed up on top of my bewildered boyfriend, pressing my lips to his own and suckling on his sweet lips as though deriving some necessary nourishment from his hot, wet gullet. We suckled and squelched and made out for some time like newlyweds. Down below I savored gladly the pressing of his long hot cock up against my body.

Jizz beginning to seep readily from his tip, staining my waxed pubes and causing me to burn for him worse than ever. When at last I could take no more of such sweet, sweet torture I lifted my body up on top of his, straddling him, and lining my throbbing pussy up with the blade of his erection.

I lowered myself slowly, slowly down onto him, falling on his blade, as it were, and whimpering as I felt that sharp shaft of his sweetly cleaving apart the meat of my body. In, in, in, I inhaled that sweet cock of his, loving as I always did the penetration of its immensity into the deepest reaches of my anatomy. Feeling him hit an innermost sweet spot as I at last touched down fully upon him, and moaning wildly with pleasure as my eyelids fluttered gently shut.

I savored it for a moment, that unmatchable feeling of simply having a man inside me. His masculinity throbbing and my body settling into place on top of him. My nostrils flaring as I tried to steady my mind for the task at hand, my tits feeling heavily sensitized beneath the lacy cups of my bra, and my entire body feeling radiant with sexual energy.

Awake as I could be despite it being the middle of the night, looking forward with almost dreadful anticipation to the real commencement of our intercourse, and savoring the tense, outstretched moments as they ticked by in preparation to begin bouncing up and down on top of him.

And then- I began.

Slowly, at first, not wanting to fully traumatize poor Jon with my excess libido first thing out of the gates. I began to rock on top of him, grinding my pelvis back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, savoring the stretching and distorting and reshaping of the lips of my wet pussy. Moaning readily as the sweet sensations of being stretched out like this coursed pleasantly throughout my anatomy.

My spine tingling and my head seeming to float toward the ceiling as I rocked and ground and destroyed myself. Eventually needing to raise my hands up to my titties and squeeze readily in order to contain the sensations. My fingers nearly piercing my own flesh, and the look on Jonathan's face almost priceless as he gazed at me from beneath in sheer astonishment, quite overwhelmed.

I could tell, by this sudden inundation of pussy at three o'clock in the fucking morning. A regular practitioner of Kegel exercises I decided to clench upon him just a little bit harder in order to torment him to a satisfying degree. Certain that he was blown away by the tightness of my cunt as I ground it back and forth on top of him, myself, meanwhile aroused at so deviling him, and feeling compelled to ramp up my efforts just the tiniest bit.

From here, I really began to escalate. So turned on by this middle-of-the-night rendezvous that it was as though the floodgates had burst open, causing me to burn with a desire for escalation, and my need to indulge this desire entirely too much for me to withstand. Instead of just grinding, now, I began to lift my body up into the air, and then to let it come flying back down.

Smashing into his anatomy like a damn elevator with its breaks snipped clean off. My ass pounding against his thighs and his cock plowing me so deep up my cunt that it nearly made me go fucking cross-eyed. Again and again and again I repeated this motion, lifting and dropping and plummeting, smashing into him at a devastating speed, our wet genitals smacking wildly together,
KLAP! KLAP! KLAP! KLAP! KLAP!,
as I bounced up and down on his fat hard cock like a pogo stick. Sweat rolling down along my body in torrents, and my anatomy so devastated that I could barely stand it as I melted into a fucking puddle all over his beautiful body.

By this point, I was moaning so damn loudly that I'm surprised that the neighbors didn't call the police to phone in a noise complaint. Collapsing so hard on my boyfriend's cock that it seemed a marvel I didn't split the damn thing clean in half with every violent crashing down; and burning so thoroughly to my core that I should reasonably have dissolved into a pulp right there on the spot.

My body so overwhelmed and so damn exhausted at this time of night that I should not reasonably have been capable of carrying out so violent a sex act as this to any degree whatsoever. But I carried on regardless of my exhaustion, bolstered by adrenaline as well as the sheer delight of being so agonizingly and thoroughly pummeled. My body on the verge of exploding, and my eyes practically rolling back up into my head as my sweet, sweet agony was brought to a glorious head.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

And with a final, brutal smash back onto that throbbing cock of his I collapsed my entire weight down onto him. Clenching my tits greedily for support and tilting my head back moaning. My spine arched, and the sensations mounting to an unbearable extent inside my body. I could feel Jonathan throbbing, throbbing, throbbing inside of me.

Then ejaculating out torrent upon torrent of his hot sticky cum up into my overwhelmed anatomy. Filling me up with his warm sticky sperm, coating my innermost reaches so thoroughly that the stuff began to spill back out of me in streams. Setting me over the edge with orgasm, and causing me to scream so wildly that I nearly pierced my own damn eardrums.

Climax shot through my body like a drug. Wave after wave of the stuff absolutely rocking me to my core. Making me shake and rattle so violently with pleasure that I could hardly stand it. By the time it had exhausted itself I was so damn weary that I collapsed beside my boyfriend's sweaty body almost immediately.