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?.
