It’s been three weeks since I cheated on Frank. Three dirty, long weeks. ~ Frank/OMC How have I got 5 rates and only 2 reviews??
Thanks to the gorgeous ladies who told me about fake nails.
It’s been three weeks since I cheated on Frank. Three dirty, long weeks. I couldn’t help myself, I’m just a horny 20 year old who got dirty nudes from my ex-girlfriend. I had no idea how guilty it would make me feel and now, I feel like I need to tell him. What he doesn’t know, can’t hurt him though, right?
Let me explain myself, I’m Danny and my past relationship with Sara was a pretty relaxed one. The socially moralised ideal of a monogamous relationship didn’t exist with us because we couldn’t see the reason. We never went through the whole, “Oh, so you’d rather sleep with another person? Am I not good enough for you?” because I knew that I couldn’t do the same things as that guy with the tongue piercing, and I couldn’t do the same things as that black guy, but I knew her body inside and out and the way I could make her writhe beneath me, moan my name, was exceptional. I had priority over everyone else, and that was good enough for me.
It was the same for her as well, she had no gag reflex – how amazing is that! She was extremely controlling though and I prefer to be the dominant one in a heterosexual relationship. When I could go out and meet some girl in a bar who would let me overcome her and treat her body in such a way that she was gasping for more, well, that was just what I needed. This meant that when I met Frank, I was still in the mindset of a completely relaxed relationship…
…and he wasn’t.
Another thing you should probably know is that I get turned on by dirty talk ridiculously easily. I started getting texts from Sara, “Hey babe, I miss you.”, “Hey babe, I miss your touch.”, “Playing with myself, thinking of you.” and that was enough for me. Within an hour I was at her place, buried balls deep inside her with sweat sliding between our bodies and our limbs tangled on her kitchen floor. I left there feeling dirty and as though my dignity had been stripped away – until that point, I had moved on from the cheap fucks on tiled floors and was trying to get on with my life in a proper relationship. That wasn’t going to happen, clearly.
I still love Sara, but I’ve accepted that I will never have a life with her, so I will take anything I can get from her. I’ve cheated on Frank, but I would do it again if it meant I could spend just an hour with her. Just a small, simple hour. It doesn’t even need to be for anything in particular, sitting at opposite sides of the room and not speaking for an hour would suit me just fine as long as I’m there with her.
Back to the present though, back to reality and I know I have to tell him the truth. It could destroy the only decent relationship I’ve had – barring Sara – but that’s just something I have to deal with. I blame no one except myself, I know this is all my fault so I have to face the consequences.
A knock at the door startles me from my thoughts and I stand up just in time to catch Frank as he walks through the house. “Dan? You okay, you sounded a bit down on the phone…” I wish I had never made that call asking him to come over, now I had no choice but to tell him.
“We kind of need to chat.” I force a smile on my face as his own drops and I add, “about Sara.” The way his face stiffens and his whole body tenses makes me panic. How can I tell him when he’s already like this? “It doesn’t matter, we can do this another day.” I turn to walk away, but his hand on my arm stops me.
“We’ll talk now.” His eyes are narrowed and his jaw set. I smile awkwardly down at him, before grimacing and clenching my eyelids shut, obscuring my vision of him. I can’t watch the hurt.
“I did it.”
“I slept with Sara again. I cheated on you, I’m sorry.” There’s no long, drawn out silence, no clichéd pause. It’s not like the stories where I have time to redeem myself, or a couple of minutes before he tells me it’s fine and we can work through it. This is real life and people don’t like cheaters. I’ve hardly finished speaking before his hand drops from my wrist, a small burst of cold and I hear the door slam before I dare open my eyes.
Three weeks have gone by and I still haven’t heard from Frank. I don’t want to make the first move; I don’t want to force him further away. Days pass quickly, each day burying me deeper into the void that surrounds me and I’m sinking into depression. The bottles and cans pile by the couch, littering the room and I barely feel the wood of the kitchen floor when I slip on a pool of beer, dripping steadily from the overturned bottle kicked beneath the counter.
Silence fills my ears, deafening me against my own screams as I remember where I went wrong and my body feels numb. Nothing. Just nothing.
The first thing I feel is a perfectly manicured hand resting on my shoulder, slender fingers beginning to massage the tense muscles and digging into pressure points. A sigh escapes me and against my better judgment, I lean involuntarily against the warm skin. It’s only as the rounded plastic corner of a fake nail runs down over my shoulder, across my chest and back up my neck to my jawline that I realize I’m lacking a shirt. Both hands join the finger just below my chin, pressing slightly and I feel as if she’s ready to choke me. Panicking, I shift every so slightly, but then her hands are smoothing out the skin up behind my ears and back over my shoulders, over and over.
Slide, across, repeat. Slide, across, repeat. Slide, across, repeat.
I stretch outwards, letting my body relax into her touch. Her hands are changing though, hands pressing harder against the skin just at the edge of my jaw, lips meeting fingers as she begins to nibble against the back of my neck. My eyes shut and flicker as she speeds up her hands, fingers exciting me, my dick twitching beneath the checked material of my pyjamas.
The first sound I hear is my own slight moan as her hands ghost downwards, over my chest and stomach, her body leaning over my own and her lips pressing gently to the skin of my collarbone. Her head is tilted upside down and her hair tickles my hips, sending memories of lost times, bad times, the “oh…right there” times. Memories that should be cast into the deepest recesses of my mind never to be looked upon.
Her hand is slipping below the waist band, stretching the material slightly before I react. My hand twists around her wrist, the other wrapping itself around the roots of her hair. I pull my arms back sharply, spiralling her body away from my own. She hits the floor, a few blonde strands of her peroxide hair settling between my fingers from where I’ve gripped too hard.
Then I scream.
My clenched fist smashes through the glass coffee table, barely centimetres from her where she landed. My body is shaking and I leave her on the ground as I step over shards of shattered glass, the small spikes pricking the bottom of my feet. Her face is lifted towards me with her mouth slightly open, hair falling across her face and eyes dark with lust. Bloodplay. She’s on her hands and knees, body swaying as she crawls towards me, her shirt hanging open and her skirt falling to the ground. She pulls herself up against my leg, pressing her body to mine as she licks the dripping blood from my fingers.
I jerk in response, my body yearning to be closer, my mind pulling me away. She drops to the ground once again as I leave, taking the stairs two at a time. A single text is all I need.
Msg: I need you.
The door sounds out as Sara leaves the house and I wait – hoping against all odds that Frank will come. My eyes a re heavy and I curl up on the soft carpet, gripping the edge of the sheet where it’s slipping from the bed.
I wake up to the smell of coffee and I wrinkle my nose, eyes refusing to open until the foul smell has gone away. Frank likes coffee. Frank drinks coffee.
“It’s for me, not for you.” Rose’s voice rings through my head and I force myself to look up at the short girl sat by my head. “I would have made you tea, but you were too busy sleeping.” I squint at her. “If you get up then I’ll make you one.”
I wipe my eyes and sit up, running my hands through my hair and ruffling it slightly. “Your hair’s purple.”
“I thought you were doing it red.”
“I’ll do it red for you next time, darling.” She’s smiling and helps me to my feet. I immediately wrap my arms around her, wanting some comfort and she complies, pressing her head into my shoulder, her hands gripping my waist. After a moment, she slips up my body slightly and I chuckle.
“Are you on tiptoes?” She shakes her head against the bottom of my chin. “Are you sure?” She nods. “Liar. Has Frank been round?”
“Yeah. He’s…” She suddenly looks nervous, chewing the inside of her lips and scratching at her arm. “…he’s downstairs. He said you’d text him.”
I sit her on the bed, telling her to listen out for shouting and head downstairs. He’s got his back to me, bouncing slightly on the spot as he always does when he’s anxious. “I missed you.” He spins round, staring at me almost in fright and I try to smile comfortingly. “Missed you a lot.” I emphasize and within moments he’s holding on to me, burying his face into my chest.
“I missed you too.” His voice is muffled but it automatically puts a smile on my face. A smile that fades as he continues. “But we can’t…not if you want Sara. I can’t handle that, I can’t deal with it.” I can feel tears slowly wetting my skin and I press my fingers below his chin, tilting him to look at me. “I don’t want to be second best to Sara.”
“You’re never second best, you’re my number one. Sara is nothing anymore, believe me, I sorted it. I made it clear to her that I wasn’t going to do it again.” My fingers have left a slight red stain on his skin from where I had cut myself earlier and I wipe it away gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Number one, would you like to join me for breakfast.” I hold out my arm jokingly and he takes it, laughing.
“Babe, it’s 4.30 in the afternoon.”
“Then it’s a late breakfast, and I’m sure the dessert will satisfy you.” I pause to look up towards the ceiling before drawing a large breath. “ROSE, GET OUT. I’M GOING TO DO DIRTY THINGS TO THIS MAN AND YOU’RE CRAMPING MY STYLE.” A dirty laugh sounds from the depths of Frank’s throat before he’s tugging me downwards for a kiss and I willingly comply.
For the record Frank=Sonny. Me and Sonny actually broke up a bit after this happened, we were both arguing too much. Didn't speak for ages, now he's dating my friend who I could have sworn was straight.