Chapter 3: Old Friend/New Friend
"I can't believe you actually took that!" Abbey was staring at my phone, taking in the two pictures of Lincoln. Well, a pretty specific part of Lincoln. We were at my house, studying for our AP exams that were coming up in May.
"Bitch, you told me to do it."
"Oh my god, he's ripped. And you weren't lying about his penis."
She finally gave my phone back to me. I had told her even less about our second "date" than before, just that'd we'd hung out at his place and boned, basically. I still didn't know how to explain most of it to her because I guess I didn't fully understand myself yet. And I still felt bad about that, like I wasn't trusting her or something.
"So is this, like, turning into a thing with you guys?" Abbey asked.
"No, no. It's definitely a friends with benefits thing. Which is perfect." That was true too, as far as it went. I legit did not have romantic feelings for Lincoln, and I didn't want or expect him to be my boyfriend. Were we friends though? I definitely liked him a lot as a person, but I didn't think that was quite the right word either. It was a lot, and I couldn't seem to sort it out in my head.
"Good, you don't want to be tied down to someone first semester of college. I don't care how great his dick is," she told me.
I felt like Abbey was probably overestimating the amount of time there would be in college to actually date, party, etc. My sister had started at UCLA three years ago, and she really struggled to have any kind of social life during the school year. She had a boyfriend she met there, but they both spent most of their time actually working, not partying, as far as I could tell. My sister was pretty outgoing and definitely smarter than me, so I figured I'd probably have a similar, work-heavy college experience, at least at first. I didn't feel like having that conversation with Abbey right now though. I didn't feel like trying to figure any of this out, to be honest, and just tried to concentrate on my work.
So, I'm aware my conflicted feelings are probably boring to read about, and obviously I'm not going to write about every sexual encounter I had that year—that would be ridiculous. I wrote in detail about my first two times with Lincoln because, together, they were kind of a transformational experience. Since this is the story of my sexual journey, I am only going to write in detail about things that are turning points or I feel were particularly important, or just super hot experiences. Usually, those are the same thing. Anyway, with that out of the way, I'm going to do that thing where some time magically passes...
Over the next several weeks or so, I would usually see Lincoln once or twice a week. Sometimes he'd take me out somewhere, usually on the weekend, or just have me come over to his place if it was a weeknight and he had to work the next day. Over that time, our relationship evolved a lot.
The main thing that was happening was that the dominant/submissive aspect of our relationship was getting more and more intense. For one, he continued to tell me how to dress for nights when he wanted to take me out. I quickly stopped questioning that at all, instead coming to kind of look forward to it, and trying to go all out for him. It was fun and it me feel sexy. I tried to look as hot as I could because I quickly learned he liked showing me off. Part of that, I think, was a social thing, not sexual. Lincoln always dressed really nicely and looked hot as fuck when we'd go out, but there are still a lot of older white people who would assume a black guy his age couldn't afford to dine in their establishment or pay for their club, or whatever. And a few were probably just plain racist.
I mean, this is southern California, so it's not like that kind of thing was rampant, but it was there—and often it was super low key, which makes it even worse in my opinion. I felt like I was part of his saying fuck you to those people—not only can I afford this, but look at this pretty white girl I have too—I'm just as good if not better than you. I could totally understand that, and even if that part of it wasn't about sex for him, I have to admit it turned me on a little. The bigger part of it though was just generally how he treated me like he basically owned me when we went out, and how much I liked it. It was mostly subtle stuff, like a casual smack to my ass getting out of a car, on the sidewalk, or as we walked into a place, or maybe walking with his arm around my waist but like really, really low. People would notice, and he'd just have that cocky smirk on his face. I can't even describe how hot I found that, and Lincoln clearly loved every aspect of it.
The other thing was that I stopped questioning how I felt about our dynamic and just went with it. I knew it turned both him and me on, and that the relationship probably wouldn't last past that summer anyway, so why not just have my fun? I could argue with my inner feminist later. That all meant that the very dominant role Lincoln took during sex was pretty much always there now. As a result, I was almost always in this state of low key horniness unless I was hyper-focused on something else, even if he wasn't around. This played out in all kinds of different ways. For example, he almost always told me to wear a short skirt or some type of dress, and he'd just casually reach up it any time he felt like it. Sometimes he just felt like I needed a smack on the ass; other times he'd see how wet I was, which was at least a little, pretty much all the time. That would, of course, lead to him telling me what a slut I was (Sophie the Slut he'd sometimes call me), which of course made me even wetter. Circle of life, right?.
Most of it was far less casual though. For example, sometimes when we were having sex, Lincoln liked to make short, close up videos of him fucking me, where all you could really see was penis and vagina, just kind of in and out, or he'd record just my pussy close up for a few seconds after he came in me. Then he'd make me watch those videos on his phone, with the sound off, while we were just chilling on a bench on the boardwalk or something. He'd matter-of-factly tell me how what I was looking at belonged to him, or what he was going to do to me later that night, and if we were somewhere that he thought he could get away with it, he'd play with my pussy at the same time.
He also basically expected me to give him a blowjob on demand. Sometimes it would be in his SUV or one time in a movie, and a few times he literally pulled me into an alley when no one was around and made me give him head. He would sometimes record bits of that too. A few times he Facetimed one of his friends (and James once) while I was going down on him in his SUV, and let them watch. I would hear them laughing and loudly saying what a good white bitch I was, but instead of feeling humiliated, it just made me crazy horny. He slowly ramped this stuff up the longer we were hanging out, and I never once objected or resisted at all. I was usually too turned on to even think straight when he did those kinds of things and just did exactly as I was told.
Things were different when we were at his place too. For one, I got to know James a lot better, because he was around a lot—they both had basically 9-5 jobs and were generally home in the evening, so James would be there if he wasn't out with Devin or some girl or whatever. I was sure he had no problem getting dates because he (and Devin tbh) were both very handsome guys. James was about the same height as Lincoln, though more slender, and he had a darker complexion. He was never mean to me at all, but he didn't have Lincoln's kind of goodnatured cockiness. He was plenty confident, don't get me wrong, but he was a few years older than Lincoln, and just more serious I guess. He intimidated me a little, but I liked him.
So, the way Lincoln was treating me everywhere else also extended to when I was at his place, whether James was around or not as it turned out. I'll give an example. One weeknight, Lincoln and I were in the living room alone because James was out with work friends or something. I was buzzed, on all fours on the sofa in just my thong giving Lincoln a blowjob, when James came home. When I realized what was happening I stopped, kind of freaking out I guess. As soon as I did that, Lincoln smacked me really hard on the ass.
"I didn't tell you to stop sucking bitch." He grabbed a fistful of my hair. "Get back on that shit."
I was kind of frozen and just obeyed him when he forced my mouth back onto his cock. I was so accustomed to doing what he told me that by now that it was easy to default to. I could hear them both laughing as I was blushing, trying to concentrate on what I was doing. I heard James say something like, "Yeah, you got her almost acting right." Then he casually smacked me on the ass, just as hard, on his way into the kitchen. I was shocked, to say the least, and didn't know how to react, but I knew better than to stop what I was doing a second time. I heard James like, "Bro take that shit upstairs, I can't be watching that right now" as he opened a bottle of beer.
Lincoln pulled me off his cock by my hair and told me, "Get your ass up, get upstairs," as he stood to pull up his jeans. I tried to grab my dress, and that earned me yet another hard smack on the ass. "You don't need that shit, get going." I kind of yelped and did what he told me. I'm sure I give them a nice view of a pair of red handprints on my ass as I went, at least judging by the laughter that followed me upstairs. Later, when Lincoln was done fucking me, I had to come back down to the living room to dress, in front of them both, before Lincoln would run me home. A couple of months before, if anything remotely like that had happened I would have freaked the fuck out. Now, I just did what I was told, and that night, I lay in bed and masturbated, despite having been very well fucked by Lincoln earlier.
