Asexual Holly/Sexual Holly by Elizabeth Elmenreich

Asexual Holly/Sexual Holly

by Elizabeth Elmenreich

Chapter 1: The Motorcycle

Chapter 1

The Motorcycle

I'm okay now, but in 2008, I was a real mess. On New Year's Eve of the previous year, I was riding on the back of my Deaf wife's motorcycle. As a Christmas present, I'd helped Naomi complete the motorcycle training and safety course. The drunk driver did honk, but she didn't hear it. I lost her and my left foot. I'm a teacher at a school for the Deaf, but I took the rest of the school year off. Along with the summer, that gave me eight months to recuperate both physically and emotionally.

Whether or not to give psychiatric medication to someone who is grieving has always been a touchy subject. My doctor encouraged me to take medication, but I refused it out of pride and stubbornness. I didn't refuse the Percocet for my phantom pain, and that's where the trouble started. Percocet is a mixture of OxyCotin and Tylenol, supposedly harder to abuse than pure OxyCotin as the Tylenol, while making the OxyCotin stronger, makes the combination impossible to inject safely. My physician tried to wean me off them, but I soon found an online pharmacy that kept me in good supply for the following months. I generally took two a day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. I chewed them.

Did I mention I have a son? Naomi gave birth to him in 2005, when I was 29 years old, and she was 34. His name is Trout. His birth name is Mike, like me, but we've never called him anything other than Trout. I lost my father to cancer, my mother to early-onset Alzheimer's, so I was pretty much on my own. With State Disability and a little life insurance money from Naomi's work, I got by. The drunk driver was insured, but we'd be tied up in court proceedings for some time.

San Diego has a lot of things to do if you're a parent. The Zoo, the Wild Animal Park, Sea World,, Legoland, a few others. I'd take Trout somewhere every morning. Call it overcompensating, call it guilt. We got Disneyland passes and went there, too. Every day, somewhere. Every morning. I tried to be a good dad, but I was still taking Percocet and going on the computer too much. I occasionally drank. On the plus side, I read a lot. I still read book-books back then, putting my English Literature degree to good use. Trout was starting to pick up on my habits and become a reader, himself. I was very proud of that.

Music exited my life during that time. I teach music and English to Deaf students. I did before the accident, and I do now, but my digital piano gathered dust during that time. I know, you're probably wondering how you teach music to Deaf students, but it's actually harder to teach them English. American Sign Language has its own grammar, and some Deaf people never really learn English as well as they should. As an English teacher, I would sign English sentences in sign language and teach the students basic composition and the like. Believe me, it's a lot easier to hand out drums and play a simple ostinato on a bass drum, letting the students make up the rest. Maybe it's the higher expectations of an American learning English versus those of a Deaf person playing a recorder.

I lost a lot on that day, but I gained a lot in that year. This is the story of 2008.  

Chapter 2: SingleParent.com

Chapter 2

SingleParent.com

I spent a lot of time on the internet back then. Message boards were my main thing, but I also bought books off Amazon.com and wrote a blog. I don't do message boards anymore, but back then, they were in their heyday. A lot of authors had them, and I talked with strangers about everything from the perfect martini to Shakespeare. A banner ad brought me to SingleParent.com. SingleParent.com became my obsession. Within a week, I was chatting with women across America, texting them, talking on the phone with them. We were all pretty lonely, and it never took much to start a conversation.

I was lying in bed one day, texting with a black woman from Georgia, when she typed, “I could never meet you.”

“Why,” I asked.

“Because I'd fall in love with you, and you live in California.”

“Yeah.”

“If we ever did meet, I'd fuck you crazy and suck you dry.”

We continued on like this, sending pics and messages for several weeks. She told me she'd never date a black man again, that the father of her daughter gave up custodial rights. She used the N-word a lot, especially when talking about him. She said her family voted for George H.W. Bush and that they were conservative but that she hated George W. Bush.

Those long-distance relationships were what I needed at the time, but by March, I decided it was time to get laid for real.  

Chapter 3: Naomi

Chapter 3

Naomi

I met Naomi in 1985, at her brother's birthday party. I was almost nine, and she was fourteen. There's a picture of us together that was much beloved by both our families. I had learned how to sign “Silent Night” in the Boy Scouts, and I performed it for her. The look on her face was enchanting, and we became friends right away. At first, we'd write in a notebook, but eventually, I learned A.S.L. We started dating in 1989 because she wanted a boyfriend before she graduated high school and so she could say she kissed someone in the decade of the 1980s. I was 13, and she was a head taller than me.

She took a year off before going to college, living off Social Security Disability Insurance. She always had money, so we'd go to restaurants and eventually hotels. I lost my virginity to her and she to me. We got married as soon as I finished college. She supported me as I got my Teaching Credential, and I got a job right away. She never got a four-year degree, but she graduated with an Associate's Degree and worked at a daycare. Even though now I'm older than she was when she died, she'll always seem older than me, the way Kurt Cobain does.  

Chapter 4: Holly

Chapter 4

Holly

When I finally got around to contacting someone in my area, I picked the two most stunning women, and they were both named Holly. The first Holly was 29 years old with blonde hair, large breasts, a flat stomach, and saucer-shaped eyes. Three kids, divorced. The second Holly was 38 years old (actually 43, as I would later find out), with brown hair, a trim body, and eyes that smiled all on their own. One adult child, never married. I was 32, a half inch shorter than the first Holly, and 160 pounds. One kid, widower, missing a foot (I didn't put this in my profile).

The first Holly's second language was A.S.L., so I had an in. I wrote her a long message, talking about my work with Deaf children and saying that I loved her photos, that they made me want to become a photographer and take pictures of her. The second Holly was an Oxford-trained psychologist whose profile said, “Enough with the messages and 'flirts.' Tell me what you have in your kitchen.” I wrote a long message to her, explaining about the knives I bought, the various utensils, the way I cooked, and what I had in the refrigerator.

The first Holly got back to me almost immediately, much to my surprise. Due to dyslexia, she had atrocious grammar and spelling, which I will not attempt to replicate here. We messaged for a week and went out for dinner. To save on babysitting fees, I brought Trout to her house, where one of her roommates watched him, along with Holly's three children. She lived in a five-bedroom house with five roommates, including a hairy Deaf man who lived behind a stack of boxes in the living room. He came home and read a magazine while we were kissing and cuddling on the couch after dinner. Holly's other male roommates were talking about mixed martial arts.

It was all perfect except for a brief moment when I brought up politics at dinner: “I really like Barack Obama, but I wish he'd make his platform more clear.”

She said the worst thing anyone could say at that moment, “who's that?”

“The black guy running for President.”

“Oh, is that his name? I don't really follow current events.”

On the sofa, in between kisses, she opened up about her life. “You're the first person I've kissed since my wedding day.”

“You had three kids without kissing,” I asked.

“No, my second wedding. My first husband was a real asshole, but my second husband was a loser. We got in a fight after the wedding, and I never saw him again. I never filed the paperwork for our marriage, so I guess it doesn't count. Do you think I'm still married?”

“Not if you didn't file the paperwork,” I lied.

We whispered. She talked about the breasts of her two female roommates: “they totally sag. I mean, I have large breasts, but they're perky.”

“You have to show them to me now,” I said.

She smiled and took my hand, leading me to her bedroom, “okay, but you can't touch.” Trout and her two youngest were asleep on the bed. “Come into my bathroom. Sit on the toilet.”

In her shower, there were almost a dozen pairs of shampoo and conditioner. “How many people use this shower?”

“Just me, but I like different scents.” She was wearing jeans and a white tank top. She pulled the tank top off and undid her bra, exposing her breasts. “See?”

They were beautiful. I wanted to ask if they were real, but as my mouth hung open, all I could do was stare at her, her breasts, her face, her stomach, the outline of her legs under her jeans.

“Oh, shit,” she said, grabbing my erect penis. “I can't let you out of here with that.” I went to caress her breast, but she said, “ah, ah, ah, remember? No touching.” She pulled my pants and underwear down and put hair gel in her hand. She began rubbing my cock and telling me her story.

“I was raised in the Urantia Church. It was really strict. When I was seventeen, I was married off to the Deaf son of one of the leaders. I had to study A.S.L. every day so I could communicate with him. His name was Mitch, but I always had to call him 'Mister.' If I didn't do what he wanted the right way, he'd give me one of these,” she said, making a fist with her left hand. “He'd always accuse me of having impure thoughts, of secretly masturbating when he wasn't around. We never had sex. I'd just take care of him with my hand or my mouth.

“He killed my dogs,” she said as a sad expression came across her face, “all eight of them. I thought I was just doing a bad job of raising them, and they kept dying, but he was poisoning them. Finally he told me, and he raped me, only he wouldn't think of it as rape. He thought that was just how you made babies, and pretty soon, I had a baby of my own. I gave birth on the compound. I don't know what we would've done if there'd been complications. After Josiah was born, it was back to taking care of Mister, with my hand and my mouth.

“I really haven't done this to a whole bunch of guys,” she said, pleadingly, “and I don't want to do this again. See, I am married, I think. To that second guy, the loser, and anyway, it's a sin to do this before marriage. I just...”

She concentrated, squeezing harder, pumping faster, and I had an orgasm, a big one, a messy one all over her breasts.

She laughed, saying, “jeez, you're not taking care of yourself. Look at this mess. When was the last time you... you know?”

“About a week ago.”

“A week? No wonder.” She kissed the side of my penis, and it grew hard. “Again?” She sighed, and put it in her mouth. There was no more story to tell. Her face... her face. I could look at that face forever. I heard the pump of the hair gel bottle, and soon I felt a finger enter my anus. She did it without asking, as if that's what a blow job was like. I'd heard about stimulating the prostate this way, and she had it down to a tee. I didn't last five minutes.

After the second orgasm, I relaxed on the toilet seat, pulling my pants up. She washed her mouth and hands in the sink before putting her bra and top back on.

“We can't do this again,” she pleaded. “It's not right under God and the Book of Urantia. I'm sorry I did that, getting your hopes all up. It just seemed second nature with you, comfortable, taking care of you. Maybe we can get married some day, but I have to go back to Trent, my second husband. It's right and all.”

“Can I get one last kiss,” I asked, and she kissed me passionately, pressing her breasts up against me. Trout and I drove home, and Holly and I have been friends ever since.  

Chapter 5: The Other Holly

Chapter 5

The Other Holly

With Trout in bed, I helped myself to a glass of pinot grigio and went online. I had a third Percocet for the day, which I usually tried to avoid. I'd taken so many of them over the previous three months that they didn't make me sleepy anymore, quite the opposite. Another problem with Percocet at night is that it mixes poorly with alcohol. While usually I go to bed after a glass or two of wine, with a Percocet, I could have a full bottle and still be awake, sometimes craving more.

I went to SingleParent.com to look at pictures of the first Holly when I found a message from the second Holly. It read:

“I'm sorry it has taken so long to respond to your message, as I have been in Spain for the past two weeks. Your message was lovely, and I want to get to know you better. I hope you don't mind, but I did a Google search on your username and found your blog. I've been reading it all day; your choice of literature is outstanding; your insights are profound, particularly your refutation of Harold Bloom's comparison of Freud to Dickens. I'm badly jet-lagged, so I'll be in and out of bed all weekend. Message me on this site, and I'll get back to you.”

I hadn't thought of my dead wife for longer than any time all year, but then it crept up on me. It just happened. I was picturing the mischievous smile on the first Holly's face as she was about to go after me a second time, the way she cocked her head to the side, and I saw Naomi's helmeted head, bent at an unnatural angle. Dead. I washed down an Ambien with my glass of wine and went to sleep.

The other Holly and I began corresponding via the website. She was charming and wonderful. I couldn't wait to meet her, and I finally did, at a Brazilian restaurant in the Gaslamp District of San Diego. The portions were huge, and we drank too much wine.

“And then she said the worst thing you could possibly imagine,” I said recounting my date with the first Holly.

“No,” the other Holly replied, “she said the...”

“'Who's that?'” We laughed, perhaps too loudly.

“I'm asexual,” the other Holly said, suddenly deathly serious. I can't imagine what facial expression I gave her, but at least I didn't laugh. “I've had no interest in sex since I got a hysterectomy in 1990. I tried it with men and women, but nothing. I've been completely celibate for sixteen years.”

“Do you masturbate,” I asked.

“Maybe once a year,” she replied, “to relieve tension. It isn't satisfying to me.”

“Can you have an orgasm?”

“Not anymore.” She looked away. “My doctor says that I'm physically capable and that it's all psychological, but I've tried everything.”

“I'm sorry.”

She gave me another million-dollar smile. “So, do you know why I'm here? It's not for free food. I'm paying, by the way.”

I tried to imagine what it would be like, unable to connect to anyone on a sexual level. “Yeah, I guess I do,” I said.

“It's more than that,” she continued, “I do need male company, but I want more than that,” she said, repeating herself. “I want a relationship. I want a partner. I don't care where he fulfills his needs.” She looked at her napkin. “I also need someone who will go to certain social functions with me. It's unfortunate, but even in my profession, there are people who see asexuality as a disorder instead of an orientation, more so in my case because I wasn't born asexual.”

I took her hand.

Chapter 6: Ground Rules

Chapter 6

Ground Rules

Dear Mike,

I thought this would be a good starting off point. Tell me what you think.

1. No extended kissing except for prearranged displays in social settings.
2. No prostitutes in my house.
3. No sexual contact of any sort between us, of course.
4. When we sleep in the same bed together, the only touching allowed is an interlocking of the feet.
5. If we're in bed together, and you get horny, please excuse yourself and masturbate in the bathroom.
6. We will each make a detailed list of our sexual histories, predilections, and preferences. Mine will be from the time before 1990, for the most part.
7. Non-sexual contact such as hand holding, locking arms, and light cuddling is encouraged, especially in public. Tell me if it becomes a sexual issue, and I'll adjust.
8. You are encouraged to find polyamorous and casual relationships of a sexual nature. You can discuss these with me as little or as much as you like. I hope they are satisfying.
9. Also, try porn.
10. Beyond everything else, COMMUNICATE! Communication is the basis of any strong relationship.

Love,

Holly

“Um,” I emailed back to her, “have you ever had a relationship like this before?”

“No,” she replied, “but I've given it a lot of thought. I want to make this work.”

Chapter 7: Sexual Histories

Chapter 7

Sexual Histories

Dear Holly,

I've only had intercourse with one woman, Naomi. We first had sex on New Year's Eve, 1989, when I was 14 and she almost 20. We were married in 1997, and Trout was born in 2005. Usually I'm on top, but sometimes she would get on top. We also learned to give each other oral sex from watching porn in hotels. After a year of talking about it, we attempted anal sex, but we didn't get very far. My only sexual contact since December of 2007 was the hand job and blow job from the other Holly, which I told you about.

Love,

Mike

Dear Mike,

My sister taught me to masturbate when I was almost 12, right after I got my first period (1977). We would practice giving blow jobs to cucumbers and bananas based on our father's porn collection. Consequently, we learned that “deep throat” was expected, and we both could do it before we even kissed a boy. I lost my virginity in 1979. Abortion, 1980. Raped, 1981. Second abortion, 1981. I performed oral sex on most of my partners but found that few of them would perform it on me, so I started having sex with an overweight girl in my grade, Monica. I had a number of partners throughout high school. For vaginal intercourse, I preferred it doggy style. For anal intercourse, I preferred to lie on my side.

At Oxford, I liked to be on top for both vaginal and anal sex, as I could switch to anal easily as a form of birth control when we didn't have condoms. I had orgasms less frequently from anal sex, but I found it almost as pleasurable. I enjoyed giving and receiving analingus, in particular, face sitting. I started doing nude modeling and was considering getting into porn when I got pregnant in 1989. My daughter, as you know, was born in 1990. I then had a hysterectomy after being diagnosed with cancer.

I don't really remember my last orgasm, but I remember the efforts I went to trying to have another one. I never had too much interest in women, but when men failed me, I began sleeping regularly with three women who I was friends with. In the months before I received my Master's, I became known as “Strap-on Holly,” as the only sexual act I would do would be to fuck men and women with a vibrator. In 1993, as my practice was growing, I noticed that I hadn't had sex in one calendar year. I haven't had sex since.

Love,

Holly

P.S. See you at eight tonight, my place?

Blonde Holly watched Trout while I went to see brunette Holly. She hugged me after she opened the door. We watched a DVD, and she put her head on my shoulder. It was... simple. She had her hair pulled back and makeup on. She smelled nice.

Chapter 8: Reunion

Chapter 8

Reunion

By June, brunette Holly's 25^th high-school reunion was coming up, and we decided to go. To complete the disguise, I loaned her Naomi's wedding and engagement rings so we could pose as newlyweds. Holly emailed me pictures of herself in the nude, including close-ups of her vagina and asshole.

“Do you normally wax your butthole like that,” I emailed back.

“I have on occasion,” she replied, “when the studio is having a special on Brazilian waxes. But I wanted to look my best for these photos, for you. I was very sexually active in high school, and at the cocktail mixer on Friday and the reunion on Saturday, I want us to seem horny, like we really know each other. That's also part of why I wanted us to complete detailed sexual histories. No one is likely to ask if we have butt sex or not, but the fact that we 'do' adds a layer of texture to the deception.”

I had lunch with the blonde Holly the Thursday before we flew up to San Jose for the reunion. We met at the San Diego Zoo. I brought Trout, and she brought her youngest, as Josiah was in fifth grade, and Mimi was in second grade. We held hands on occasion, when riding speed ramps and while we were just standing still. We each had a stroller.

She laughed at the story of the Brazilian wax: “I usually just shave down there with a razor, but I've never gone that far down.”

“How are things going with Trent?”

“I'm trying to save my marriage, you know, but it's been tough.”

Trent was an inch shorter than I am, which made Holly look like a giant. They'd been emailing ever since our date together, after nearly two years of no contact. Trent wasn't a great looking guy, but Holly loved him.

“He's even more dyslexic than I am, so you can guess what our emails are like.”

“You should see him in person,” I suggested.

“You sure you know what you're doing with the other Holly and everything,” she asked.

I suddenly became interested in my hands. “It hasn't been six months since Naomi passed away.”

“What was she like?”

“Calm. Neat. She'd organize Trout's toys instead of just dumping them in a plastic bin.”

“Can I see a picture of her?”

I opened up my flip phone and went to the “Naomi” folder. “Here, scroll through these.”

Holly looked at Naomi. Naomi wasn't beautiful, with her curly hair and her large nose. She was a little flabby, although you couldn't tell it in the clothes she wore in her pictures. Next to Holly – both Hollys – she was decidedly average. “She's cute. You must've really loved her.”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know why Holly can't take care of you the way I did,” she blurted out. “Someone ought to show her how.”

I got defensive, but I smiled, “she knows how. It's just...”

“Just what? It's like milking a cow, something you have to do, or else the cow gets sick and throws up.”

“I don't think that's how it works. Anyway, I can 'milk' myself.”

“You shouldn't have to.”

“It's what I want right now.”

We changed the subject.  

Chapter 9: San Jose

Chapter 9

San Jose

Holly and I flew up to San Jose Friday morning. I left Trout with blonde Holly for the weekend. Brunette Holly paid her $400 to watch him. We had reservations in the hotel where the reunion was to be held, so we didn't rent a car. At the mixer, everyone seemed old. And fat. And the men were balding.

“Hey slut,” a middle-aged woman said to Holly. She had a name tag that said, “Monica,” on it.

Holly was the most in control person I'd ever met, the master of any social situation, but in an instant, she became the teased, bullied, and awkward teen she'd been back then.

“I'm Mike,” I said, adjusting the conversation away from the two former lovers' enmity, “Holly's husband.” I'd cleaned up pretty well. I started wearing contacts before I met the Hollys, and brunette Holly got me an $80 haircut and two $500 suits. Being eleven years younger than everyone in the room helped, too.

Monica's husband stepped in, “I'm Jeff.” He handed me a business card. He was a regional sales manager or something or other. His toupee was almost convincing. “What do you do?”

“I work with Deaf children,” I replied. “I have a B-CLAD credential in A.S.L.”

Monica stewed. If she'd been a cartoon, her face would be beet red with bubbles rising to the surface. Her husband was oblivious, saying, “my wife has a CLAD credential. The 'B' is for 'bilingual,' no?”

“Yes.” I turned to Monica, saying, “what do you teach?”

“I taught math for a year, but it didn't stick,” she said, more politely than I expected. “I'm an office worker now.”

Holly turned to me, “you want a martini?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Vodka, no vermouth. If you two will excuse me, I have to go to the restroom.” I went to the bathroom and took my second Percocet for the day, a little later than usual. When I came back, Holly was at the bar while a man in a suit talked with her. I walked beside her, putting both arms around her and kissing her on the mouth. She responded by kissing me twice back.

“Here's your martini, darling,” she said through smiling teeth. I drank about a fourth of it without changing my facial expression and then ate the two olives.

“That's nice vodka. What is it,” I asked to no one in particular.

“Belvedere,” said the bartender.

“Thanks.” The man had left. “Who was that?”

“I don't even know,” she replied. “He seemed to expect me to know him for some reason. I probably slept with him once.” We laughed, but she said that louder than she probably should have. I noticed her martini glass was full and that there was an empty one on the bar. We walked toward an open table and sat down. “This has been harder than I thought, and you've been wonderful.”

“Thanks.”

“The bartender is an alcoholic,” she said. “Look at his glass. There's condensed water all around it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, this is my second martini. I know it's too much to drink when we haven't had dinner, but...” she let the sentence hang, which was unusual for her.

“Hi, Holly,” said a woman with curly hair and a large nose. I didn't even read her name tag. She was Naomi to me. I saw Naomi's face in another flashback to the accident. “You look white as a ghost,” the woman said to me. “Are you okay?”

I heard the honk of the car. I felt the crash. I could see Naomi's head bent at the wrong angle.

“Mike?” Holly seemed concerned. “Mike?”

“I'm sorry,” I said, closing my eyes to the delusion, “too much martini, too little food.” I was a zombie, but Holly excused us and took me to our room. In the elevator, I had tears running down both cheeks.

Once we got to the room, Holly helped me undress and get into bed. I was sobbing like a child. “Naomi,” was all I could get out. Over the course of half an hour, I managed to compose myself and tell Holly about the hallucinations both tonight and the night after I went out with blonde Holly.

She was on the phone. “Hi, this is Holly,” she said. “Mike has had a nervous breakdown. I think he has P.T.S.D.”

“What's that,” came blonde Holly's voice on the other end of the line.

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” brunette Holly explained.

“What's that,” blonde Holly asked.

“You know, his wife died in an accident, and sometimes the brain has trouble dealing with that level of trauma, so it goes haywire.”

“Oh. Will he be okay?”

“Probably. We just have to take care of him.”

“I thought you didn't do that.”

“No,” brunette Holly said, stifling a laugh. “I mean, we have to watch out for him, make sure he's alright.”

“I still think you should help him out, you know. It isn't hard to learn.”

“I know how to do it,” brunette Holly said, getting annoyed. “I just don't have the predilection to do so.”

“Well, I've done a lot of things I didn't have the prediction for, either. I mean, no one can tell the future.”

“You know, you're right,” brunette Holly was on the verge of giving up.

“And maybe some day in the future, you can help him out.”

“Maybe,” brunette Holly said, shaking her head. “Well, I have to take care... I mean, make sure Mike's alright.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Goodbye, Holly.” Hanging up the phone, she said, “I see why you like her.”

I smiled but didn't say anything.

“What psychiatric medications do you take?”

“None.”

“You take no medications at all?”

“Well, I take a little Percocet sometimes, but I don't think that would help.”

“Percocet?” She sighed, “isn't that what they give to cancer patients? Wait. Your foot must have healed by now, so either you've been stringing along one bottle all this time or you've been getting it illegally.”

“I buy it from a pharmacy in India,” I said defensively. “After I lost my foot, I was taking 10 or 12 a day. I'm down to two.”

Holly did some mental math, “we could go cold turkey at that level, but I'd rather wean you off it over a few days.” She sighed and took a pill bottle out of her purse. She removed the lid and took out a pill, “here. Take this.”

I held the small, yellow pill in my hand and asked, “what is it?”

“Klonopin, one-half milligram. It's a benzodiazepine. It's often given to recovering addicts and alcoholics, but it's mostly to calm you down.” I swallowed it. Holly was a little drunk, and she wasn't a medical doctor, but she should have known that the Klonopin would potentiate the Percocet, making me higher than ever. After half an hour, I excused myself to the bathroom and got a third Percocet.

Holly ordered room service, two filet mignons and a bottle of champagne. We sat in bed in our bathrobes, watching C.S.I. while we ate. Holly, who drank the bulk of the champagne, ordered another bottle. Between the champagne, the Percocet, and the Klonopin, I was riding high. She took a Klonopin herself, and with the two martinis before the meal, she was decidedly out of it.  

Chapter 10: The Morning After

Chapter 10

The Morning After

We woke up facing each other with our feet interlocked. She smiled at me, and she looked beautiful with her bare shoulders. It was then she realized that she had taken her bathrobe off in the middle of the night.

“Did we?” I asked. My bathrobe and underwear were still on.

“I don't think so,” she replied, looking embarrassed. She started to pull a sheet around her but then simply walked out of bed, naked, and put on her bathrobe. “I wanted to take a shower,” she explained, “but I never got around to it. Oh, my head.”

I started rummaging through my suitcase for my bottle of Percocet before I remembered I'd kept my small supply in the bathroom. “I think I have some Aleve here.”

“You're not fooling me, buster. Where's the Percocet?”

“I have five pills in a small bag with my toiletries, more at home.”

“Good, they're all mine now. I'll give them out to you as I see fit. Let's see, it's Saturday, right? You'll get one-and-a-half starting today, one starting Monday, and one-half starting Wednesday. Starting Friday, you won't have any.” She handed me a single pill and broke a second one in half. I swallowed the full pill, and she unapologetically swallowed one of the halves.

We sat on the bed. “Did you want to have sex with me last night,” I asked.

“Maybe,” she replied. “I don't remember. Anyway, that ship has sailed.” We lounged back and watched some TV. Her foot found mine.

Chapter 11: Afternoon

Chapter 11

Afternoon

“We need to get you laid,” Holly said after three straight Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episodes. “I saw you lusting after those female Klingons.”

“Hey,” I said defensively, “those female Klingons were hot.”

“Let me get my computer,” she said, getting out her Mac Book Pro.

“SingleParent.com,” I asked.

“AdultFriends.com,” she replied. “You've probably seen banner ads for it.”

“Does it work?”

“We'll find out.” She paid $100 for a three-month deluxe membership and built me a profile using pics she'd taken of me trying on clothes at the mall. Under “relationship status,” she put, “seeing someone.” For “sexual preference,” she put, “female.” On the next page, she selected the sex acts I liked the most. She selected a number of things I'd never tried or barely tried, from spanking to anal sex to shibari.

“What's shibari?”

“Japanese rope bondage,” Holly answered. “It's just for street cred; no one will want to do it on a first date. If she really wants it later on, I'll show you a few things.” She completed the profile and began to search for female users in San Diego. There were about 20 that had logged in over the past 24 hours. She picked out a Filipina named Maria. She was 5'3” and 160 pounds or so. She wouldn't have been my first choice, but Holly quickly messaged her using the account she created, saying, “wazzup,” and then “ur cute.” In 20 minutes, Maria and I had a date at 10:00 AM at my place, Monday morning. 

Chapter 12: Reunion

Chapter 12

Reunion

Before the reunion proper, Holly had me masturbate and ejaculate onto her side of the bed, just to keep up appearances. Afterward, she had me smell her panties so I'd know what kind of scent her crotch had. She “accidentally” walked in on me dressing after the shower, probably so she'd know what my dong looked like.

“Why do you have red pubic hair,” she asked.

“Red hair runs in my family,” I replied, “and it's not unheard of for men to have brown hair and red beards. That's why I'm clean shaven.”

“You're not very clean shaven down there. We'll have to take care of that before Monday.”

Before the reunion, Holly gave me half a Percocet and half a Klonopin. She swallowed the other half of the Klonopin and sealed both medications in her purse. We were seated at a friendly table with two other couples, one of which encouraged us to get accounts on a new website called Facebook so we could keep in touch.

“Where did you two meet,” Facebook man asked.

“Online,” I said.

“Through friends,” she said at the same time.

“Online,” she said.

“How long have you two been married?”

“Six weeks,” she said with almost an inquisitive tone.

It went on like this for hours. While we had constructed a plausible backstory for our sexual relationship, we'd done nothing to help create a realistic romantic relationship, and how could we? We'd only known each other for three weeks.  

Chapter 13: Maria

Chapter 13

Maria

Brunette Holly came over at 9:00 AM to get me ready for my date with Maria and to pick up Trout. I'd shaved my testicles and pubic region the way she suggested in the email, and she inspected the job while Trout was in the other room. My penis became slightly engorged because of her looking at it. “Don't jerk off,” she said, “save it all for Maria.” I pulled my pajama bottoms up and tried not to think about sex.

“I pulled one off last night,” I mentioned.

“That's fine. It'd have been weird if you hadn't.”

“The other Holly told me it builds up, and a lot comes out if you don't do it.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Well, it doesn't exactly work that way, but it kinda' does.”

“You're the doctor.”

“Well, not really. Anyway, to keep it from getting weird, as soon as she comes in the door, kiss her and hold her. Push her into the wall if you feel like it. You can fool around a little bit, but don't linger. Fuck her right in the pussy, and when you're ready to come, take the condom off and jerk off on her face.”

“Okay.”

“As soon as you get hard again, ask her if you can fuck her in the ass. Use the cooling lube I brought; she'll like that. Penetrate her slowly and go really slow for the first minute or two. Then just fuck like normal. You got it?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, and one more thing. It's okay to go from pussy to ass but not ass to pussy. Change condoms if you do that, otherwise she'll get an infection. If you can't get it up, put on some porn or shit.” She reached into her purse. “Here's your Percocet for today, and here's some Viagra, just in case.”

“Viagra,” I asked.

“It's not uncommon for people, their first time after getting out of a long-time relationship to have performance issues. Plus, you had a life-changing event, a trauma. It's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.”

Holly left with Trout at 9:45 AM, and Maria rang my doorbell exactly at 10:00 AM. She wore a yellow sun dress, and her short, black hair was wet. “Hi,” she smiled with somewhat crooked teeth.

“Come in,” I said. As soon as I closed the door, I kissed her on the mouth. She moved her mouth a bit to the side, so I kissed her cheek, neck and shoulders.

“Aw, you're friendly,” she said. “Where's your bedroom?”

I led her to my bed and took off my pajamas and tee shirt. She took off her dress. Her bra was light brown, and her panties were white. They didn't come close to matching, but she took them off in short order. She kissed me once, and we got on the bed. She grabbed my cock and positioned me on my back, sucking my nipple and then kissing my stomach. It was more ticklish than sexy.

I'd had oral sex from exactly two women at that point, and I wasn't ready for what Maria did. Putting her face in profile to me, she put me in her mouth and drew her lips down to the root, deep throating me. She grabbed the base of my cock with her teeth and slowly drew her teeth across my cock to the head over the course of three seconds. Using her lips, she quickly went down again, allowing me to penetrate her throat. It was sexy to look at, but all it did was make me harder and harder, no closer to the orgasm.

She rolled on her back and said, “you can fuck me now.” I grabbed a condom, dropped it, picked it up, unwrapped it, and put it on. She giggled and guided me inside of her. As I fucked her, she asked me questions and talked. “Have you ever been in the Philippines?”

“No,” I said, breathlessly.

“It's very nice, but if you don't have an education, you don't make very much money. What do you do?”

“I'm a teacher. For the Deaf.”

“I'm a maid. I work very hard, but I only make $14 an hour. Who cleans your house?”

“I do.”

“Not your girlfriend, the unsexual one?”

“Asexual.”

Maria shifted her weight, putting her hands between her legs and touching my freshly shaven testicles. “I like that you shaved for me. It's so soft.”

I kissed her, and she put both arms around me. I thought she was going to have an orgasm, but she just started talking more.

“Your girlfriend don't clean, don't fuck. She's not good to you.” She slapped my ass as hard as she could. “Come on. Harder.” I started putting my weight into each stroke, and finally she was really getting off, but I had to come, so I pulled out, took off the condom, and ejaculated on her face. She met my sperm with an open mouth but let it drool out onto her chin. She smiled, wiping her face with her underwear.

I put my arm around the back of her head and cuddled up to her as she lay on her side. She'd done very little of the work, but she was still pretty sweaty. I didn't have that much interest in anal sex aside from curiosity, but I found myself asking, “can I fuck you in the ass?”

“Sure,” she said, handing me a condom and grabbing the bottle of lube. “My last boyfriend was Israeli. He fucked me in the ass all the time.” She put some of the lube on herself and some on me, saying, “get behind me,” as she got up into doggy-style with her legs together. Once again, she initiated the penetration, moving her hips forward and back to guide the action. I found the sensation of her buttocks pushing against my hips very pleasing, but other than that, it wasn't any different than vaginal intercourse, at least from my standpoint.

She lay down flat on her stomach, with her arms folded under her head. “You can keep going and come in my ass if you want,” she said, “but I get tired going back and forth like that.” I continued penetrating her, but I found the position a little uncomfortable, so I stopped. “How many times did you come,” she asked.

“Just once,” I answered.

“It's not fair. I didn't come. You have to do more.” She rolled on her back and began to guide me into her pussy, but remembering Holly's “no ass to pussy” rule, I changed condoms. “Good idea,” Maria said, “we wore that one out.”

Before penetrating her, I sucked Maria's breast and worked my way down to her pussy. It was clean, but it hadn't been shaved recently. I licked in a circle around the clitoris, and she sighed, pleased. I did it until she said, “come on, fuck me now, like before.” I mounted her, putting my weight into each stroke. We looked each other in the eye, and she put her hands above her head. We came simultaneously, give or take a second. “That was good,” she said.

We cuddled for a little while, but she left at 11:00 AM. I texted Holly that I was on my way over. When I got there, Trout was playing on her iPhone. “How was it,” she asked with more enthusiasm than Maria or I showed during the entire encounter.

“It was different, it was great. Thank you.”

We talked about it for 15 minutes, and then Holly got on AdultFriends.com to send Maria messages like, “ur awesome! And, “ur mouth is hot!” It wasn't long before Holly convinced Maria to come over every Monday at 10:00 AM.  

Chapter 14: Percocet

Chapter 14

Percocet

Friday was my first day without Percocet, and it was hard. I had no energy, and everything hurt, not that Tuesday through Thursday were a breeze. On the bright side, I found that my fantasies about Maria were more pleasurable than my actual experience so far with her. When I thought about Maria, everything was perfect. I was thinking about this when brunette Holly rang the doorbell. “This is a pleasant surprise,” I said.

“I just wanted to support you,” she said, hugging me. “You know this is the right thing to do. You could get a D.W.I., you could get in an accident. A lot of things can happen.”

“I probably should have gone to rehab.”

“Rehab is for people who either don't have loved ones or who abuse their loved ones. That's not going to happen with you. And don't get me started on the 12-step programs on which most of them are based.”

Blonde Holly arrived 15 minutes later, with her youngest, Edison, who Trout greeted by name. Blonde Holly, Trout, Edison, and I had planned to go to Sea World, as it is smaller and flatter than any of the other major parks in San Diego County. Brunette Holly said, “don't worry. We'll take care of you.” Blonde Holly hugged me, kissing me on the cheek.

Blonde Holly drove us to Sea World. I had never gotten a disability placard, and it was an excruciating, 15-minute walk just to the entrance. Holly said, “I should have paid for Platinum Parking.”

“Oh,” I said, “why didn't I think of that?” Brunette Holly would have insisted on it if she'd been there.

At the time, Sea World was owned by Anheuser-Busch, the producer of Budweiser, and they gave away free beer at the Beer Garden. I thought how much I'd desperately like a beer on that hot June day, but I put it out of my mind. We wore sunscreen, ate hot dogs, watched the kids play in the Sesame Street Bay of Play, and even saw a fish or two. After an hour and a half, we went back to my place, where Edison and Trout fell fast asleep. Holly and I cuddled on the sofa the way brunette Holly and I usually did.

“How are things with Trent,” I asked.

“He's not sure he wants to be married,” she said, looking away. “Holly told me about Maria. What's she like?”

“She's like anyone else, I guess.”

“That doesn't sound very special.”

“It's not supposed to be special, I guess.” The words rang in my ears as I said them. “Just a release, just fun.”

“I wish I could, I mean with something other than a vibrator.”

“Don't you do it with Trent?”

Holly looked pensive. “He is my husband, so it's right with God, but he doesn't love me, so it's not right by me.”

“How can he be in love when you won't make love?”

“If he talked like you, I probably would sleep with him.” She looked down. “So, does Maria really do all those things?”

“Yeah.”

“They seem kinda' gross, but I still want to do them. Does that sound weird?”

“Someday, you'll find the right man, and you'll do what's comfortable for both of you.”

“I had a dream about you and Maria after Holly told me about it. Actually, I've had it every night.”

“You wanna' watch us do it Monday morning?” I was joking, but she took it seriously.

“I have to work, and plus it isn't right. It's personal, I guess. And what if you and I get married some day?”

“There's that.”

“Can you send me pictures of her?”

“You mean of us doing it?”

“That's not what I was thinking of, but yeah.” She looked in my eyes earnestly. “God, now I'm all wet. Can I use your bathroom?”

I was going to say something, but I didn't.  

Chapter 15: Pictures

Chapter 15

Pictures

Brunette Holly spent the entire weekend with Trout and me, including Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. She made me go out a little, even though I didn't feel like it. She messaged Maria, “ur so hot! i jerk off to you. can i take pictures of you?” Maria was a little skeptical at first, but she agreed that we'd use her camera so she could decide which pictures to keep and how to edit them.

When Maria came over at 10:00 AM the following Monday, Holly was just leaving with Trout. “Hi,” she said, extending her hand, “I'm Holly, Mike's partner.”

“Hi,” she said nervously, shaking the older, more attractive woman's hand. Holly left.

“That was weird,” Maria said. “I brought the camera.” She started undressing, and so did I. She took a digital camera out of her purse and said, “I thought we could do some oral sex first, with you standing up and me sitting on the bed.”

I stood next to the bed and watched as she flirted with the camera with my cock in her mouth, taking pictures with her right hand and holding me with her left. “Here,” she said, handing me the camera. “Try a few P.O.V. shots.” It wasn't an expensive camera by any means, but it had a large screen. She wasn't looking to get me off or turn me on, just look good for the camera. “Stick it in without a condom,” she said, bending over the bed.

“I'd feel better using one.”

“It's just for a few shots. You're not going to come inside me or anything. No one likes porn with condoms.”

“Sorry, I feel safer with a condom.”

“Okay,” she sighed. I stuck it in and took a few pictures. “Now stick it in my ass,” she said. I did, taking more pictures. She turned her head around so her face would be in the shot, and I took more pictures. “Let's do anal in a few more positions.” We did. Finally I had to fuck her, which I did vaginally. When I was ready to come, she said, “stand up and do it onto me.” I started masturbating while she took pictures of herself. I gave her a towel afterward. Our mission accomplished, we rested and then had sex again. She left a few minutes after 11:00 AM, as if she were on a schedule.

The pictures came out pretty well. Maria edited just enough of her face out of each frame so that she wouldn't be recognizable. I forwarded them to blonde Holly, who replied, “holy cow!” I put them in a password-protected folder on an external hard drive. My face wasn't in any of the pictures, but I was still surprised to see them show up on Maria's AdultFriends.com page.

Maria messaged me on Wednesday, “is it ok that i put your pics on my page?”

“no its cool,” I replied, mimicking Holly's messaging style on the site, “there hot!”

“how did you loose your foot?”

“motorcycle crash.”

“is that why your girlfriend cant have sex?”

“i dont want to talk about that.”

“sorry she seems nice.”

“yeah.”

“when she gets better maybe we could have a 3 way.”

“ive never done it with 2 girls.”

“im bisexual.”

“i read it on ur page.”

“ru free today?”

“no i have my son.”

“ill see you monday then?”

“yes sexy girl.”