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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780446179584 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Grand Central Publishing |
| Publication date: | 03/23/2010 |
| Pages: | 314 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.10(w) x 7.90(h) x 1.10(d) |
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Sexaholics
By Pynk
Grand Central Publishing
Copyright © 2010 PynkAll right reserved.
ISBN: 9780446179584
1
“Confessions”
Sexaholics
My name is Miki, and I’m a sexaholic.”
“Hi, Miki,” the smiling sexaholics support group members sang in unison that warm, early-summer evening. The fading amber sun dripped its sweet honey glow upon the coastline of the city of angels. Cries of free-spirited seagulls echoed in the sexy skies above.
It was a Tuesday.
The one-story, crème brick building spanned the entire palm-tree-lined block, and was only two stop signs from the world-famous pier along the shore of the Pacific Ocean. The fresh scent and white sounds of the blue-violet ocean were constant.
The walls of the east hall meeting room of the spacious outpatient treatment facility in Santa Monica, California, were lined with framed 12-steps and Sexaholics Anonymous posters. The facility had been packed ever since a very high-profile actor had been treated there for sex addiction. The many group programs at TAC, which stood for The Addiction Center, ranged from eating disorders and codependency to alcohol, drug, and sex recovery, and were usually booked many months in advance.
Cocoa-brown Miki looked down at the folding chair. She took her seat at the same time that her best friend, Valencia, stood.
“My name is Valencia, and I’m a sexaholic.” She wore a massive princess-cut rock on her ring finger.
“Hi, Valencia.”
Valencia nodded and sat, crossing her legs and clasping her sweaty hands.
A woman at the other side of the circle stood and spoke. “Hi. My name is Teela, and I’m a sexaholic.”
The entire newcomers group again gave their standard cheery reply. “Hi, Teela.”
As she took her seat, a petite, dark-skinned woman sprang to her feet. Her voice was melodic. “Hello there, everyone. I’m happy to be here.” She flashed her perfectly capped teeth. “My name is Brandi, and I’m a sexaholic and an alcoholic.” Her voice said she was proud, but her eyes said she was broken.
“Hi, Brandi.”
Brandi bowed her head, then scooted her backside into the chair, nodding and eyeing each member as she offered a cheery grin. She rocked back and forth and crossed her arms, embracing herself tightly.
The tall, redheaded support-group sponsor spoke from her seat. “Thank you very much, newcomers. It’s rare to have four women at once. Anyone else?” She looked around, along with others who scanned the room, allowing time for anyone who might have been left out. “No? Okay.” She hugged a clipboard and a small, dark blue notebook to her bosom. “Welcome to the Sexaholics Anonymous, better known as SA, program at TAC. We at SA appreciate the fact that you’ve shared a little bit of yourselves with the group. We want you to consider this group as your extended family.” Rachel Cummings, the Sexaholics Anonymous counselor, crossed her thirty-four-inch legs and flashed a wide Colgate smile, securing a retractable pencil over her ear.
“The focus of tonight’s meeting is to familiarize you with the promise of recovery. So, first of all, right off the bat, I think it would be healthy and necessary for the new members to go ahead and get your biggest sexual act out of the way now. There has to be an admission in order to have victory over any addiction, and I know it’s scary. But if you wouldn’t mind, please tell us the wildest thing you’ve ever done sexually. Preferably, the wildest act would not only be the one that possibly shamed you the most, but also one that you may have enjoyed the most. Because basically, we seek help almost always at the point when we hit rock bottom. So, let’s think back and speak in truth without fear of judgment, shame, embarrassment, or shock. Give us your rock bottom. It’s time to confess. And remember, we are your new recovery family.”
The older members of the group of eight looked at the newer ones and offered encouraging, nudging smiles. The newer members checked each other out, each hoping someone else would step up as the first guinea pig of the night, but no one budged.
“Does anyone care to go first?” Rachel Cummings spoke encouragingly, her eyes just as friendly as her voice. “How about you, Miki, since you gave the first introduction? Would you, please?” She motioned upward, encouraging Miki to stand.
With long, straight brown hair and wide brown eyes, Miki made a weak attempt at a smile as she stood. She hung her hands at her sides and shifted her weight to her right leg. Her short jeans skirt fit like it could have been peeled like a banana. She placed her hand on her shapely hip, which curved greatly from her waist, as her mind traveled. But she lost her almost-smile just that fast.
“It was all about me. I didn’t care about anything else. I remember the creaking sound of footsteps in the hallway, but our moans were like animals and seemed to drown them out. He was tall and big and heavy, and his bulging belly needed to be lifted up to find his penis. I’d already sucked his huge dick for about thirty minutes, but he didn’t ejaculate. The taste and smell of his precum stuck to my tongue while he literally pounded my flesh. I remember wishing I had a stick of cinnamon gum.” A woman sitting next to Miki put a familiar hand on Miki’s slender arm for comfort as Miki gave a nervous giggle along with the group. She then paused, swallowed audibly as she closed her eyes, and continued:
“As much as his body repulsed me, and the smell of his sweat that dripped onto my titties was musty, my vagina throbbed faster than I thought it would or could, and I took him in like I was getting away with a crime. My pussy was wetter than it had been since I was in my teens. I was dripping slippery fluid, and I could tell he was turned on to the point of damn near having a heart attack. He breathed unsteadily. He kept grunting louder and louder, and he went deeper and deeper. I kept groaning and grinding faster and faster with an urgency I’d never known. I mean, my clit felt like it was about to burst. I felt the pressure of his powerful cum shooting deep inside me just as the bedroom door flew open. I noticed someone standing there in the broad daylight, but I didn’t care. Not even that it was Adore, my younger sister, who had just absorbed an eyeful of our fucking. Not even that the man who had just shot his sperm deep inside of me, the same sperm that had impregnated her six months earlier, was paralyzed with fear. He froze. I still didn’t care.
“I didn’t care enough to cease my panicky grind or downshift my pleasure-filled grunts. As I said, it was all about me… getting off, and the thrill of sneaking had me high. I spewed my cum while my clitoris clenched repeatedly until I slowed down to the stillness of busted reality.
“My baby sister yelled, ‘Not with my husband, Miki. Not with my Tommy.’ Her eyes were watery and her hands shaky. I lay there, almost giving her a look like she had some nerve to interrupt. Then I pulled the covers over my body and scooted back. She called me a bitch and a whore and ran out. He ran out after her, just as naked as he was when he was inside of me. I sat back and lay still. Maybe it was out of shame, maybe it was out of fulfillment. I ended up taking a one-hour nap and then went to work like nothing had ever happened.
“I think I’m a nympho. Or maybe worse. Whatever that is. Whatever this is. I need help to stop. I can’t do it on my own.”
Miki simply opened her eyes and stopped talking. Her brown skin was flushed beyond rosy. The members were silent as if maybe she wasn’t quite finished. It was like the video player in her mind simply stopped. She sat down. She flashed a glimmer of her right dimple, and her chest rose and fell. Valencia caught Miki’s eye. Each touched her heart with her fist.
“Very good, Miki,” Rachel Cummings said. “A nympho, huh? We don’t know if that’s true yet. I’m sure that situation must weigh heavily on you, especially since you obviously feel as though you’ve betrayed your sister. We’ll speak on that as we go along, and we’ll help you work through the feelings involved. Very good. Next.”
Tall and reddish-brown, curvy Valencia came to a stance and looked down at her friend Miki, who gave her a mini-smile. Valencia then spoke quickly with a Puerto Rican swagger. Her thick, sugar-coated lips moved fast and her neck rolled.
“I push the limits. I have always pushed limits. You know what I mean? I pushed the limits in middle school doing something as minor as ditching class, or as major as giving my math teacher a blow job for an A. I mean, I was only fourteen. I was a trip.
“I’ve always been bored with twosomes. I had my first threesome when I was fourteen. It was with my cousin and her boyfriend. In college I met a man who matched my freak level to a tee. We’d go online and look for adults who wanted to do group sex with strangers, we’d fuck with another man, we’d fuck with another woman, we’d go to private house parties and end up on huge beds with ten people, just swapping and swallowing cum and eating pussy and taking it up the ass. And one time I watched him suck dick. I got off on it. I’ll masturbate to an exercise video, if necessary, and he’ll masturbate right along with me. I love to fuck. I can’t think of the wildest time because it’s all been wild.” Valencia now flailed her expressive hands about with urgency. Her long pearl and purple nails shimmered.
“I’ve fucked while smoking weed, I’ve tried Ecstasy while giving head, and I’ve drank seven shots of straight one-fifty-one rum and then had sex outside in a park in broad daylight. I love rimming, I’ll screw a man in drag, I’ll lick pussy till it’s raw. All I know is, I can’t stop thinking of new ways to push my freak button. My man has threatened to leave me if I don’t stop. His curiosity has been more than satisfied. My mind is always racing to find new ways to get my rocks off. I have no limits. Piss on me, tie me up, make me bark, or slap me. Doing whatever it takes to get a rile out of me only makes me hotter.
“Today, I hate living like this. But when I’m in the middle of it, I love it.” She slowed her speech and her voice cracked with exhaustion and the fragile sound of an inner shame. She spoke at a low tone. “I’m here to break my addiction to sex. I’m a freak. A sex fiend. I’ve had enough. And I don’t want to lose my man. Thank you.” She sat back down and Miki reached over to hug her. Valencia placed her head on her friend’s shoulder and then wiped her left eye. A sniffle followed.
A hazel-eyed man with a low fade sitting across from Valencia gave her a wink of approval, and then glanced over at Miki’s firm legs, where his eyes lived for more than a few moments. The woman next to him had a tear running down her cheek. The woman played with a balled-up tissue and looked down at her lap.
Rachel Cummings said, “Valencia, we thank you as well. I see that your addiction has caused you much frustration. I understand, and we’re here for you. The good thing is that you’re at your wit’s end. That’s the point where most need to be before they seek help. Your glass is full, and that is a major turning point. We’ll get through this together, Valencia. Thanks again.”
Valencia nodded and smiled and sat up straight.
Teela stood, wearing beige Capri pants and a matching vest, blushing majorly through her fair, alabaster skin from her mixture of Scottish and French. She smoothed her hand over her jet-black, pixie-cut hair and exhaled.
“My name is Teela, as I said. I am a voyeur. I love to watch, and I get turned on by being watched. Valencia, I can relate to the park thing. I do that on the regular, maybe once a week. My lowest moment was when I peeked in the room to watch my mother and father having sex when I was a teenager. I felt shame, but still, I took that curiosity into my adult life. I will peek at neighbors or simply watch my man sex up other women without even getting involved. I’ve never been into women, but I have no problem approaching them at clubs and persuading them to fuck my man, only I sit back and fuck myself with a dildo or a cucumber or a hot link or with my fingers or whatever until I’m satisfied. I’m not the least bit jealous. As long as I’m there.
“I’m here because two weeks ago, I went into a sex shop and sat in a booth watching an old Vanessa del Rio movie. It was one of those seedy rooms where other people can peek in and watch you like perverts. I guess that includes me, huh?” she asked the group, looking around as others shook their heads in disagreement. She blinked rapidly. “I was leaning back with my panties to my ankles and I knew two sets of peering eyes were watching me rub my clit and stick my fingers in my ass. But I still jerked myself off over and over, and then I came so hard that I squirted pee on myself. One of the men stuck his dick through the glory hole and I sucked it until he came on my lips. And when he left, I put on another movie and lay back.
“I looked up to see that I was being watched again, and I saw a set of eyes, only one pair of eyes. They were dark brown, and the lids were iced with deep-set wrinkles. The whites of the eyes were cloudy. I jumped back and pulled up my underwear, closed my blouse, and put on my pants. Turns out the eyes belonged to my uncle. Uncle Chester was always trying to hug me a little too tight when I was younger, trying to be slick by pressing against my breasts. I always had a bad feeling about him. He was always sneaky. I hadn’t seen him in years, but there he was jacking off at the sight of his niece masturbating. This world is getting way too small for the type of sick problem I have. I want to be rid of this obsession. That’s why I’m here.”
Teela ceased her story and looked around at the room full of faces. She turned to eye her chair, and as she sat she looked over and saw Miki giving her a warm eye hug and a wink.
Teela’s soft expression gave away the fact that the wink was comforting. She winked back, flashing her pale green eyes demurely.
Rachel Cummings showed no shock. She only beamed with approval. “That’s very good, Teela. It sounds like your admittance is going to get you through this. Your honesty and shame can work together toward your healing. We thank you.”
“Yes,” a couple of members said aloud, in particular the long-legged black man next to Teela, who offered her a smile as she shifted her thick body back into her chair.
Brandi said “Yes,” too, as she sprang to her feet in a prim pale yellow skirt suit. “I suppose my name suits me well, as I’ve been an alcoholic for the past ten years. I’m thirty-two years old and started drinking heavily in college. I never believed in AA meetings or even admitted that I had a problem. But the combination of this sexual addiction and what I know to be an alcohol addiction will surely kill me if I don’t surrender. You see, I cannot bond to anyone. I guess you can say I’m a love cripple. I have never had sex with the same person more than once in my entire life. I get off on the thrill of a stranger. I have a problem.
“And I recently posed as a hooker a few times just to surround myself with men who were expecting a onetime wham-bam, without all the intros. We went to the seedy motels or fucked in the backs of cars, and when it was all over, I ended up feeling as though I’d gotten more out of it than they did. I wouldn’t even take their money. But the last straw was when I got arrested for solicitation of sex. The embarrassing charges were eventually dropped, but this addiction thing is interfering with my job as an eighth-grade teacher. I’m afraid I’ll run into a student’s parents one day or, worse, get fired. I am a sexaholic and I’m ready. Ready to get well. I’m ill. And I admit it.”
Rachel Cummings handed over a wide smile as chestnut Brandi took her seat.
Brandi looked down after smiling back.
“Wow, I must say those are some very good examples of the extreme side of lusting and being lusted over,” said Rachel Cummings. “Brandi, you have a two-headed demon to tackle—sex and alcohol—but it’s not unusual, and sometimes there’s no need for two recovery programs. Both AA and SA cover the same principles. Some people have addictive-type personalities and some of you, like Brandi, might find that you’re addicted to other things as well, like alcohol or gambling or shopping or food. Some kick one addiction and take up another in its place. It will not be easy, but the fact that you’re here means that you are sick and tired of being sick and tired. Your tomorrows will not be like your past, not if you don’t want them to be. Thank you, Brandi. Thanks for sharing.
“Now, unless anyone else who hasn’t shared before wants to share, we’ll continue on. No one?” She eyed the group. “No problem. Since we have so many new members involved tonight, the first thing I will tell you all now is that we must seek victory over lust. It’s time to stop lusting and become sober. Please repeat after me: Stop lusting and become sober.”
“Stop lusting and become sober,” each person said as one.
“Very good. The one thing you all have in common is that you have all been driven to the point of despair. That’s why you’re here. I want all of you to see that each of us, each and every one of us, as sexual addicts, takes from others in a sexual way something that is somehow lacking in ourselves. But what we end up doing is giving away our power through the forbidden. At some point in our young lives, because of some event or experience, we tuned things out with fantasy and masturbation, probably because someone took away our power somewhere along the way. This is a physical, emotional, and spiritual problem, and therefore healing and sobriety must come in those three ways as well. When you lose control, you no longer have the power of choice. I want to give you back your power of choice. I want you to give yourself back your power of choice. Your stories tell me you want to gain control, and you want to live a life of making positive, healthy choices that no longer spell addiction.
“This is a twelve-step recovery program that I will tell you now is spiritual. You’ll hear me talk about God as we get to know the steps of recovery. One thing you need to know for sure is that you may or may not believe in God, but even if you get to know the twelve steps inside and out, if you don’t have your own source of spirituality or faith, you won’t get to recovery without it.
“Sexaholism will follow you every day for the rest of your lives. It is an addiction. And addiction is the management of feelings out of control. You have to own it and be in a community of other members. Recovery takes comprehensive counseling in a safe environment. The only thing that differentiates you from the next new person who comes through that door is your sobriety. How long can you abstain from the act itself, not engaging in unhealthy sex with someone else, or with yourself in some cases? That number of days will add up to mean your anniversary. It will be part of your identity. You will be one day, or three months, or one year, or ten years sober, and you will celebrate like it is the first day of the rest of your life. And each time you fall off the wagon and engage in intercourse and sexual acts, excluding with your spouses, you start that number all over again. It’s all up to you. It can be done. I won’t give up on you. Will you?”
The group replied “No” all together.
The group counselor continued, “I challenge you to make a true commitment over time that becomes a part of your lives. And by the way, I am five years, two months, and six days sober and having sex only with my spouse. I could tell you the number of hours if necessary. Years ago I had daily sex with my married neighbor while his wife was at work. Next thing I knew, his teenage son joined in to make it a threesome, so I began sleeping with both of them, the father and the son, sometimes together, sometimes not. The parents didn’t know why but the son got so sprung that he tried to kill himself. My neighbor’s wife confided in me that she knew her husband was fooling around on her. The final straw was when I ended up fucking the wife, too. Her husband would have no idea where she was all night long, and she would be lying in my bed right next door. She left her husband for me and is still with me today. We got married. He moved away in shame. Nothing you can say to me would shock me. My name is Rachel Cummings, and I’m a sexaholic, also. And it’s time to hug a new day.”
Each member of the group, an unusually equal mix of men and women, eyed each other and raised eyebrows and nodded and smiled at Rachel Cummings. Two of the men had heard it before but still wore their thoughts on their faces. Some scooted back and some uncrossed their legs, some sipped on bottled water, and some looked around the room. But a cleansing feeling of shaking off all the admissions permeated the air, and an anxiousness of knowing that it was time to learn and heal and deal, as equals, as addicts, took over.
After thirty more minutes of going over the first step in the 12-step program—admitting to being powerless over sex and that their lives were now unmanageable—the sponsor ended the session and promised to see everyone back in two weeks, same time, same place.
Valencia and Miki left hand in hand, with more pep in their steps than they had going in. Teela and Brandi exchanged new friendship farewells and exited in different directions.
Valencia dropped her hand to reach in her purse for her grape BlackBerry. She said to Miki, “I’m proud of you, chica.”
“You too, Val. To summarize and admit all that was harder than I thought.”
“You closed your eyes like you saw it happening all over again.” A slight summer breeze blew Valencia’s long, curly, dark brown hair away from her oval face as they stepped out of the clinic front door.
“I did see it.” Miki cleared her throat. “It was wild.”
“It sounded like The Vagina Monologues, if you ask me. It was interesting as hell.”
Miki gave a soft laugh. “That it was. So, where’re you headed?” she asked with keys in hand as they walked amongst the evening darkness.
Valencia looked down at her BlackBerry and touched the screen. “I’m headed to Greg’s place. I see a few missed calls from him. He’s so excited about the fact that I agreed to get help. I must say after this first meeting I’m getting excited, too.”
Miki stopped suddenly as the hazel-eyed man who was in the group walked up.
“Hello. How are you ladies doing? You may not remember my name from the brief intros of the regulars but I’m Dwayne. Dwayne Grace.” The man towered over Miki’s frame. He had on a white T-shirt and jeans.
“Hi,” Miki replied with an instant look of sexy flirt.
Valencia stopped, too. “Hello. Okay, I guess I’ll see you later, mama.” She moved in closer to her friend and gave her a lip kiss.
Miki offered a distracted half kiss back, as well as a half hug. Her eyes were stuck on big, tall Dwayne from the waist down.
Noticing her friend’s visual diversion, Valencia proceeded on with her car alarm remote in hand, switching her hips in dark blue pencil jeans. “Buzz me.”
Miki nodded and then yanked her eyes from Dwayne to Valencia. “Okay. I’m headed home. Drive safely.”
Valencia gave an umph sound.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.
Miki slid her eyes back and put out her hand. “No problem. My name is…”
“I know. Miki, right?” He shook her hand and kept it.
“Nice to meet you, Dwayne.”
He still held her hand as they began to walk toward the parking lot. “I heard your story.”
Miki beamed with a marriage of embarrassment and attraction. “I feel as though you know me. But what’s your story?”
“I’d actually love to share it with you.”
Miki stopped, looking up at him. “Your place or mine?”
Dwayne answered without missing a beat. “Yours.” He released his grip and reached into his pants pocket for his wallet, keeping his eyes on her as he handed over his business card. “My cell number is at the bottom.”
She read each and every letter and number. “Oh, okay. I’m in Inglewood. I’ll call you. See you in an hour.”
“I’m in Ladera. Actually, would you like to come by my place?”
“Sure. I’ll be there.” Miki began to walk away and looked back. “And you’ve got a condom, right?”
“I’ve got a ton of them,” he assured her with a naughty grin.
Miki spoke in a private tone to his wide, V-shaped back as he hurried toward his silver Corvette, walking like a stud in what she noticed to be some very big shoes. She shook her head in amazement. “Uh, uh, uh. I’ll bet that’s a Trojan Magnum XL there. I’m gonna fuck the shit outta his big, fine ass.”
Continues...
Excerpted from Sexaholics by Pynk Copyright © 2010 by Pynk. Excerpted by permission.
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