The Boy Who Knew Me When(25)

“Taste me Axel!” I continued to beg as his mouth traced its way between my legs. Opening my folds with his fingers I felt his thick tongue lick its way over my swollen nub.

“Good Jesus, you are seriously making me hard, sweet pea!”

I shushed him “Bite it!” I screamed.

His tongue swirled around my clit a few more times before taking the swollen nub between his teeth gently biting down and licking the pain away. I softly screamed for him to do it again. The moment he bit down my body began to pulsate and with the pain I found the release I so desperately needed.

Moving a finger inside of me he made his way back to my lips rubbing my wetness onto my mouth. Uninterested in foreplay I flipped him over and climbed on top of him sliding my wet walls onto the thickest cock I had ever seen in my life. He mumbled something that I could not make out, not that I cared what it was. I needed this and only this; I needed to feel the hurt that came from slamming myself onto him over and over again. I rode him as hard as I could, taking pleasure from his grunts and cries of pleasure.

“Sweet pea I’m gunna come, you have to stop!” He begged.

But there was no stopping me, I was too close to finding my own release to care about his. Before I knew it I was being thrown onto my back and he had taken over, pounding me hard, once, twice and just as the explosion inside of me released itself he pulled out, emptying himself onto my stomach. Seeing his salty liquid spread all over my body brought me back to reality, I cried out and immediately jumped up and ran to the bathroom.

What had I done? I had not only just thrown myself at my ex-boyfriends best friend, a pledge in my brother’s best friend’s fraternity but despite the fact he tried his damned to avoid it, I fucked him with no protection and almost let him unload himself inside of me. Was I really this fucking selfish, this stupid, this fucked up or all of the above?

I turned on the shower right before the shouting match began on the other side of the door, as quickly as it started it all ended with the sound of a sickening hard slap. Just as I began to step into the steaming hot water Brea banged on the door.

“JEMMA, OPEN UP! Goddamn it Jem, open the fucking door!”

But I refused to bow down to her orders, not when all that I wanted to do was burn everything about the experience I just had with Axel from my body.

“Go the fuck away!” I yelled back.

“Just tell me you are OK, and I will leave you alone. Please Jemma?” I could hear the pain and fear in her voice.

I knew Brea loved me, I loved her as well but something was happening to me that I could not for the life of me explain. I told her that I was fine, that I just needed to shower. And then I stepped inside. Pulling the curtain closed behind me I began to scrub my entire body for dear life as if it was covered in disease.

I had hoped to just climb into bed and waste the rest of the day withering away but I should have known better. Brea was sitting in my desk chair, having turned it to face the bathroom door so that she could see me the moment I stepped out. She looked at me as if contemplating something and then staring me dead in the eye asked the question I was hoping she would never have to.

“How long have you been off your meds?”





Bi-Polar Disorder



Definition -a mental illness in which a person experiences periods of strong excitement and happiness followed by periods of sadness and depression—called alsomanic-depressive illness.

I was diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder the summer that I turned thirteen. My aunt had taken me to doctor after doctor all of which continued to diagnose me with PTSD, otherwise known as post traumatic stress disorder, given my history of unfortunate violent trauma. My emotions were a regular roller coaster ride. There were moments I was fine, sometimes more than fine. And other moments where I couldn’t tell whether I was coming or going.

My aunt started to realize it had to be something else when I began to fly off the handle. The smallest things would make me angry, sometimes I could not control myself at all. And during fits of rage, I would throw things, hit the wall, kick things over and sometimes even hurt myself. Once I had calmed down it felt like the world had shifted on it’s axis and remorse set in. I would often stay locked in my room for days listening to Joni Mitchell albums and doodling. Brea would come by to visit, I would let her in but we would end up just sitting on my bed staring up at the ceiling.

When I started eighth grade and Tilly started allowing me to go out on dates, as long as she drove me, I found more effective ways of dealing with the numbness that often led to my uncontrollable emotions. I had never gone all the way with anyone, not until that evening with Brandon our senior year but I had done pretty much everything else.