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The following story is a spinoff from "The Book of David". This story assumes you know the primary characters from it, so background explanations on them will be brief, if at all. Familiarity with that story *IS* a requirement, although you needn't have read it recently. But if you haven't already read it at all, don't bother trying to read this one.
This story includes group sex, female bisexuality, anal, sibling incest (although not a focus), and toys. If any of that bothers you, find another story to read.
Disclaimer: While I come from a technical background, Chemistry is not my forte. If you find any errors, well, I told you so.
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-- CHAPTER 1: After the Asshole --
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*-- OCTOBER 2006 --*
"FUCK YOU you stupid, ungrateful MOTHERFUCKER!"
I stood in the doorway between my bedroom and the living room, yelling at the top of my lungs. Over by the door, my boyfriend crouched down, one knee on the floor as he cowered in abject fear of further damage. The picture frame that had just recently bounced off his arm now lay in two pieces on the floor a few feet away from him. The miniature wooden dutch shoes I'd picked up in Amsterdam had hit him square in the back and were now next to his right ankle.
Presently, the stupid turd looked up and realized that I no longer had any missile-shaped objects in my hands. So the cowardly bastard took the opportunity to half-crawl over to the door and then flee out of it lest I stop to reload and continue my aerial assault.
"Good fucking riddance!" I yelled a final time. And just for good measure, I grabbed my cell phone off the DVD cabinet beside me and sent it hurtling toward the now-closed door. The flimsy piece of plastic and electronics shattered quite prettily against the hard wood, coming apart in three distinct chunks along with a variety of tiny little plastic and metal bits.
Only then did I stop and take a deep breath, hunching forward with my hands on my knees for support. If my boyfriend were still in the room, he would've had a magnificent view of my fabulous tits hanging down in my scoop-necked top. 34DDs, firm, and perfectly shaped: my boobs were my best asset and we both knew it. But he wasn't here. And he couldn't see them anymore. Never again. Serves him fucking right.
I suddenly felt very tired. My shoulders slumped. I panted from the recent exertion. And shaking my head, I turned and headed back into my bedroom only to flop haphazardly onto my back across the bed. Once comfortable, I let my arms splay out to the sides as I caught my breath and stared at the ceiling.
I suppose it was partially my fault. I never should have invited that cute blonde Melissa into our bed. I mean, yeah, *I* was horny and craving some pussy. But maybe I should have just left it as the one time stand. I should have known it would be a mistake to invite her for a repeat. But she was just so fucking... *tasty*... that I couldn't resist wanting an encore... and then another... and then another.
Or maybe I just should have picked a less attractive girl. I know I'm not a knockout babe and Melissa IS prettier than me. I'm a size 6 and she's a size 2. It is what it is. I should have known my boyfriend would start fantasizing more about her instead of me. After all, it had happened before. My first boyfriend was now engaged to my ex-roommate, the "hotter roommate". And on top of being the prettier girl, Melissa was "new pussy", always more alluring to a male than the old pussy.
Still, Chad should have known better. We talked about Zodiac-Astrology all the time. I'm a Taurus. I'm stubborn, dedicated, sensual, and loyal. I'm slow to anger, but once you really get me going, I can get fucking ENRAGED. We were together almost a year. He *knew* this about me. He *knew* all he had to do was be honest and mature about it. Hell, I would have LET him fuck Melissa on the side if he'd just TOLD me about it instead of trying to hide it!
But *nooo*, Chad tried to *hide* his affair. Getting together as a threesome every couple of weeks wasn't enough for him. He had to tell me he was out bowling with his buddies when he was actually sneaking her into his apartment. FUCK! If you're that fucking horny, just invite the damn girl over to MY place!
I suppose I should have known better. I always want to see the good in people, especially handsome men. I always want to believe they're mature adults who can handle my sexual peccadilloes. I'm horny. I like girls. I like sharing girls. And I'm *always* horny! You'd think a guy would bend over backwards to keep someone like me!
But no, Chad was a narcissistic moron. He did nothing to make me happy and everything to make himself happy. Yeah, he was handsome and had a big dick and could screw for hours on end. He'd even fucked me quite well last night, back before I knew he was a lying, cheating bastard. But all he ever cared about was himself, oblivious to how he might be upsetting his girlfriend.
Hell, he wasn't even smart enough to keep from upsetting Melissa, which was why she called me this morning to tell me she'd been sleeping with my boyfriend behind my back. That was when I picked up the picture frame and started throwing things at him.
Actually, this was all David's fault. My first boyfriend, the one who'd given me the nickname "E-Beth", had spoiled me. He'd treated me like a queen, and still does. He made me believe men could be wonderful and considerate and caring. And he balances his multiple lovers in a way that makes it seem so easy. Even after we'd broken up, the way David has treated me around his girlfriends always reassures me he hid nothing from me, nor ever needed to.
Am I so wrong to expect the same level of honesty from every man after him? Is it really my fault none of my subsequent boyfriends could measure up? Is it really so bad to dedicate myself to pleasing my man and expect him to do the same?
I exhaled slowly and rolled my eyes, finally getting off the bed and looking around for my purse. I was already late for work. I found my car keys, one of the few things within reach that I hadn't thrown at Chad on his way out the door. Hmph. *Those* woulda hurt if I'd thought to throw them.
I then figured I should probably call my boss to let him know I was still coming into the office. But I sighed and looked at the broken pieces of my cell phone on the floor. Well THAT wasn't my most brilliant decision.
I stooped down and extracted my SIM card, making a mental note to stop by the cell phone store to pick out something new. I then left my condo and headed for my car. And on the drive to work, I made a resolution: