Authors: Ellen Harper
“But I’m Michelle,” I protested, whipping my head back around to look at him. Blonde curls flew over my back and in horror, I realized I was in Stephanie’s body.
“What?” Dom frowned, laughing and spanking me again. Pleasure vibrated through my body and I purred. “There’s no way you could possibly be Michelle. She looks like a little baby.”
“But I am her!” I whined, feeling tears come to my eyes. Dom didn’t say anything and stared at me until I relented and gave up, hanging my head. Blonde tendrils hung over my shoulder and I fingered one absently; it felt much softer than my real hair.
“Baby,” Dom said in a husky voice. “You are perfection.” He lowered his head between my legs and licked at my inner thighs, making me squirm. “You are the hottest little thing I’ve ever seen.”
I giggled; even though I was mad at him for not knowing that I was really Michelle. His touch was driving me wild, and I could feel how wet I was on the insides of my thigh. Dom’s fingers spread my labia apart and he gently blew on the exposed skin, making me shriek and jerk my hips away. Instantly, his hands clamped down harder on me, keeping me solidly in place. I felt his tongue lap at my swollen clit and I moaned, pressing my pussy against his face. The feeling of him going down on me from behind was incredible, and I wanted him to keep doing it forever. Nerves of pleasure darted through me as he licked and sucked at me and I reached a finger up to tweak one of my brown nipples. I screwed my eyes closed and whimpered as Dom ramped up the intensity. Just as I felt myself about to come, he pulled away. My eyes flew open and I whimpered, wanting him back. I heard some rustling noises and then something cold and slimy dripped down between the cheeks of my ass, coating my asshole and pussy in what felt like slime. Dom placed his fingers on me immediately and started to rub it in, the warmth from his hands soothing me. The extra lubricant felt really sexy and tingly, and I moaned as he continued to massage it into my skin, using his thumb to rub lazy circles around my clit. I could feel a warmth all over my skin and the ends of my hair tickled my back and breasts as Dom rubbed me. Slowly, he moved his hand closer to my asshole and began rubbing the delicate tissue. It felt strange, almost like I had to use the bathroom, and I resisted and tried to pull away. Dom kept rubbing and strangely, after a while, it felt good. I began grinding my hips against his hand as he gently pushed into my ass with one finger, and then two. Dom took his hand away and then got on his knees behind me, pushing at my asshole with something much larger and warm. When I realized it was his cock, I gasped. Surely this was going to hurt!
As he pressed into me, Dom steadied himself with a hand on my hip. The pressure felt really uncomfortable, even though he was being gentle, and it was a relief when the head of his cock slowly popped in. Dom groaned and slid the rest of the way into my ass, making me feel incredibly full and stretched. He stayed all of the way inside me for a moment and arched his back before he started to thrust in and out. While the sensation had been pleasurable, the thrusting was so intense that I felt my muscles begin to strain. Instinctively, I reached down and started rubbing at my clit. It felt so good and the extra lube made me slipperier than ever. Using my hand to form a fist I rubbed my knuckles against myself and moaned, grinding my hips back into Dom’s massive erection. He grunted and thrust harder, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of my hips. The pleasure was so intense that I thought I would explode, and I came hard, crying and wailing as my muscles clenched and shook. Dom yelped and slammed into me, his seed gushing into my asshole.
I woke up in a hot sweat, with my hand slipped down the front of my cotton panties. My heart was pounding and it took me a few seconds to realize that I was safe in my room, not with Dom, and that I was Michelle again, not Stephanie. The whole dream was incredibly embarrassing, but I couldn’t deny how much it had turned me on. Even as I lay in the dark, I couldn’t stop blushing and thinking of Dom fingering me and licking me the way he touched Stephanie, in my dream.
I couldn’t face Dom for weeks after I had that dream; one look was all it took to bring me right back. Thinking of the things we did together made me feel so disgusted, but also so incredibly turned on at the same time. That was the beginning of when I really started lusting after him, and it made our later encounter so much more damning.
The movie ended and I found myself sitting with a cold tub of popcorn in my lap, staring off into space. Between my legs was warm and damp; thinking about that dream had really stirred me up. In embarrassment, I looked around and was thankful to see that no one had come into the movie late. I was still alone.
Wiping my damp palms on my jeans, I got up and headed home. It was dark outside, and I walked a little more quickly than I had to the theater. I felt like the world’s grossest step-sister; I’d basically daydreamed about anal sex with Dom through the entire three-hour movie. Ugh. And to make matters worse, that dream practically ruined 6 months of my life. I couldn’t face Dom, but I couldn’t face Stephanie either. And that semester, she was in my English class. The teacher gave us a group project and I flunked it because I couldn’t stand the idea of hanging out with her and working together. It was the only ‘F’ I ever got in high school.
When I reached the house, all of the lights were off inside. I wondered if Dom had gone out and left me all alone; it would be typical of him to do. I could easily see him forgetting that he’d wanted to do something nice for me and then just deciding to go out to the bar and pick up some new girl. But when I opened the door, I could clearly hear him upstairs.
“Dom?” I called, throwing my coat in the kitchen. “I’m back!”
“Good timing,” he called back, jumping down the steps two at a time. “I’m glad you made it back.”
“Me too,” I pulled a face, shivering. “It’s so cold outside.”
“What did you see?”
“Uh,” I flushed. “I can’t remember.”
“Michelle, you literally just got home. How are you going to get into med school if you can’t even remember what movie you just watched?”
I stuck out my tongue. “At least, I’m not an asshole.”
Dom looked offended, frowning at me. “Well, come see what this asshole did when you were gone, then.” He turned around and hopped back up the stairs, flicking on the lights. My curiosity grew at last and I followed him up the stairs, careful to avoid tripping. Nothing looked different that I could see, but Dom led me into his room and flicked on the lights. “Ta-da!” He said in a sing-sing voice, waving his arms around in the air.
He’d cleaned and unpacked everything that he brought over, and in the corner stood an easel with a paint set and palette on the floor. There was a picture clipped to the corner of the easel and my heart skipped a beat when I saw that it was a familiar one. Stepping closer, I realized with a shock that it was
me
. The picture was a few years old, I was standing and laughing at something my dad had said. I was wearing jeans and that tank top that I’d worn over to Domenic’s on that fateful afternoon, and my figure looked good.
I used to be skinny
, I thought, looking down at my rounder hips. Even though I was mad he’d gone against my word, I honestly couldn’t help but be flattered that he wanted to paint me. At least, he’d chosen a good picture.
“I thought I said no,” I said softly, reaching out and grabbing the picture. I picked it off the easel and brought it closer, looking hard. And this wasn’t from Facebook; I knew suddenly that he must have gone through photo albums and picked it. It was one of the rare photos of me smiling, and at the time, I’d thought I looked horrible. But now, looking at it, I realized that I was pretty.
“Aw, come on, Michelle. Archie would love this as a wedding present.”
“You’re supposed to give a wedding present that reflects the taste of both people, though,” I said, finally putting it back on the easel. “And I don’t think your mom would love a painting of me.”
“Sandy really likes you,” he said, using her first name. “She probably thinks you’re a better child than I am.”
“Domenic, that’s not true. Look at how far you’ve come,” I said, blushing when I realized I’d spoken the last sentence out loud.
He had the grace to laugh and I immediately felt relieved. “Yeah, I know I’ve come a long way,” he admitted, and I relaxed, taking a deep breath.
“Still though,” I protested. “It’s embarrassing. And what if you’re not even any good at portraits? I’m going to look awful!”
“You’ll look fine,” Dom said, showing me his phone. On the screen was a photo of one of his paintings. I recognized Sandy sitting at the piano, looking over her glasses. I couldn’t believe how real it looked; even on the tiny screen, I felt like she was right there in the room with me.
“You’re good,” I breathed, amazed. “That’s perfect. It even feels like her.”
“Thanks, Michelle.” Domenic sounded sincere and I smiled at him. Maybe it was really possible to rebuild our relationship. Maybe we’d be able to be friends.
Dom and I stood for a long time quietly in his room, gazing at his art. He cleared his throat nervously and said; “I also wanted to unpack for you, to do this. I knew that you wouldn’t be happy about me being here at the same time as you, but I thought it would somehow be easier if everything actually looked like it belonged here. I know that it drives you crazy to be surrounded by boxes. That’s why I wanted you to leave. Well, that and so I could hunt for that picture.” He pointed to the photo of me pinned to his easel. “That took some time.”
“I bet,” I said dryly, taking a last look at Younger Michelle before turning and walking out of the room. “Thanks for unpacking, though. You’re right; it is helpful.”
“I thought you would appreciate it,” he finished, looking at me. I suddenly realized how uncomfortable he looked; it was almost as though he was asking for my approval. The thought was a weird one, and I wasn’t sure I had ever felt that way before aside from brief flashes during our youth.
“So are you and your date from the wedding; are you serious?” I asked, leaning against the doorway. The wooden frame cut into my back, but I didn’t move, wanting to look as casual as possible. Dom shook his head for a fraction of a second.
“Nope,” he replied, matching my casual tone. “We’re definitely not, and I don’t think I’ll be going out with her again.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. He didn’t offer any elaboration and I didn’t ask. Even though I was still raging with conflict inside, I couldn’t deny that being around him was making me think again of that awful dream. I hoped I wouldn’t have it again tonight; I wouldn’t be able to look him in the face for the rest of the time we were staying together.
Dom pursed his lips, clearing his throat. “Hey Michelle,” he started, sounding almost nervous. “Do you have plans for the rest of the evening?”
“Uh,” I stammered, looking down. “No, I don’t.”
“Do you want to hang out?” He tried, looking at me with an unreadable expression. “We can drink—legally this time, and watch a movie.”
“I can’t get too drunk,” I replied, shaking my head. “I have to finish my med school application essays in the morning.”
“Hey, why don’t I help you?”
I looked at him blankly. “Are you a writer now, too?”
Dom laughed. “No, I mean, how about you read it to me and then I tell you what I think? It might help a little bit to hear things out loud, sometimes then you realize you need to change something.”
I pursed my lips. “I don’t know,” I hesitated. “It’s kind of personal.”
“Come on,” Dom pleaded. “I told you everything about me.”
“Not really.” I narrowed my eyes. “You made a really general apology for years of bad behavior.”
“If you want to hear about more ways I fucked up, we can go into that,” he said lazily, looking at me with a cocky grin on his face. I rolled my eyes; I knew it wouldn’t take long for Arrogant Dom to re-emerge. I stared at him until he wiped the smile off of his face and looked at me sincerely.
“If you really want to hear it, I’ll read it to you,” I offered, kicking at the wooden doorframe with my bare toes. “But you can’t laugh.”
“But what if it’s funny?” Dom asked, grinning at me.
Ugh! I wish I could punch him!
Twenty minutes later, we were in the living room. I cleared my throat and pulled my laptop on my lap.
“Why I want to go to medical school,” I started reading. “Or why my dad is my hero.” I gazed up at Dom, expecting to see him smirking at how sappy that line was, but he was straight-faced, waiting for me to continue. “My mom died giving birth to me, and for a long time, I didn’t understand what a ‘mom’ was. My friends had them; they were pretty ladies who would make us lunch and help us play dolls. My best friend, Amelia, acted like her mom was her best friend and her older sister. I was so jealous; I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be so close to my mom. My dad had a sister, my Aunt Amy, but I only saw her on holidays and we weren’t that close with each other.” I paused, clearing my throat. “I wanted a mom every day. I’d wish for a mom at every birthday and every time the clock struck 11:11. But it never came true. All of my friends would tell me that my dad would probably marry again, but that didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be
my
mom; she’d be his wife. My mom was dead. My dad is an RN, and even though he was a single parent, I didn’t see him very much when I was younger because he was always working. Later on, he’d take the weekends off so we could spend time together. He helped me with my homework and took me shopping, even though I hated it. He even picked out outfits for me that he thought were pretty for school picture days. On the weekends, we did everything together. He’d take me bowling and to go pick apples and he taught me how to cook. I know he did everything he could, but it wasn’t the same. I still really missed my mom, even though I didn’t really know who my mom was. And that’s the thing, Dad didn’t like to talk about her. I’d ask him questions, but I could always tell that it hurt him, so after a while, I just stopped. And then, when I got into high school, my dad started working weekends again because the pay was better. He still made time for me when I asked—and even when I didn’t, but I always felt sorry for myself. When I went to college, my roommate and all of the other girls I befriended hated their moms. I didn’t get it; what I saw as being looked after made them feel like they were micromanaged. And they all fought with their parents, all the time. I couldn’t imagine doing that. I didn’t realize for years and years that even though my dad had been a single parent, he’d really also been a mother to me as well. He raised me, he always made sure I was safe,” I paused, choking up. Dom stared at me and I blinked, shaking my head. “Sorry,” I said quietly. “This is just kind of hard to read.”
“I get that,” Dom said softly, gazing up at me. “You don’t have to finish if you don’t want to.”
“Thanks,” I sniffled, wiping my nose. “I’m going to go lay down. I’ll be down later.”
Quickly, I walked out of the room and up the stairs. Dom didn’t make an attempt to follow me, and I leaped up the stairs so he wouldn’t hear me start to cry. In my room, I flopped down on the bed and crumpled the essay into my fists, tossing it across the room. I hadn’t felt tired, but my bed felt so good and I realized that I actually was pretty tired. Rolling over, I wrapped myself under the blanket and buried my head in the pillows, trying to hide from the world. Thoughts of Dom kept swirling around in my head; it was uncomfortably reminiscent of the time I’d run home crying after I’d woken up on that afternoon in Dom’s living room. Trying to brush that thought aside, I tried to concentrate on my essay, and whether or not I could actually submit it. Writing it hadn’t been difficult, but reading it to Dom had been incredibly emotional, and I was embarrassed that I’d started crying like that. Dom probably thought I was still really immature.
Even though my mind was racing, lying in bed eventually did the trick and I felt my eyelids begin to get heavy.
Maybe I should set an alarm
, I remember thinking right before I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the whole house felt quiet. Even though I didn’t have to check, I instinctively knew that Dom had gone out. Lying there in the darkness, my forehead wrinkled. I wondered which bar he’d gone to, and what kind of girl he was going to bring home with him. With a sigh, I rolled over. My mind was now wide awake, and a quick glance at the clock told me that it was a little after 11pm. I knew that I wasn’t going to be getting any sleep later, so I decided to get up and work for a little while. After reading that essay to Dom, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to submit it. It did really make me sound like someone who prioritized my problems over everything else, and considering the outcome (how great my dad really has been to me), it felt selfish, and a little narcissistic.
Grabbing my laptop, I hauled it on my lap and began to write. Within a few hours, I had something that looks liked like this;
“I originally wrote my personal essay about my dad. My dad is great, and I feel like it’s a great story, but it’s mostly about him and the sacrifices that he made in order to provide for me growing up. He’s an RN, and my mom died giving birth to me. My dad did everything he could to make sure that I was always taken care of and loved, and I grew up missing a mom and not really seeing what he did for me until it was almost too late. And that’s a good story, but I don’t feel like it would demonstrate why I would make a good doctor.
I want to be a doctor because I know that I’m capable of putting aside my own suffering in order to make other things right. When I was growing up, my best friend was this guy named Domenic. We lived right next door to each other, and we did everything together. As kids, we were inseparable. In middle school though, things changed. He had always been popular, but when we hit puberty, his popularity skyrocketed. He dated around, he played on the baseball team, he went to parties. He drank underage, and it didn’t matter because everyone loved him. And my crush on him only intensified as things went on. I know it sounds typical, and like everyone’s stories growing up, but I really felt like I loved him. And that was absolutely ridiculous because he never did anything to deserve it. In fact, I don’t think I should have given him an ounce of attention.
You’re probably wondering what this has to do with med school. In high school, Domenic invited me over one day out of the blue. It was right after we’d taken midterms, and he knew that he’d be getting an athletic scholarship to play baseball, no matter how bad his grades were. His coaches loved him, so they were never too bad anyway. Domenic never tried in school, and I resented him for that. I spent almost all of my time studying, and making sure that I had the best possible grades. I was valedictorian of my class for years. And then, something happened that day that changed everything. My heart was completely broken, and I let my grades slip once. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to push me out of the valedictorian spot. Because of that, I didn’t get the scholarship that I was hoping for and instead of going to my first choice school, I went to the state university. It was a crushing blow to everything that I had ever worked for, and I hated myself for allowing myself to fail.
I’ll be a good doctor because having experienced that once, I know I can never do it again. I know I can never be in that same place again, where my own feelings trump my professional desire to succeed. I let a childhood crush and infatuation ruin my chances to become a doctor sooner, and having had that taken from me, I can promise that I will never again allow it to happen. “
With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair. It was after midnight and the house was still silent. I checked outside; Dom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I didn’t think I’d be able to get back to sleep before he came home, so I went in the bathroom and took a long, hot bath and had a glass of wine. I couldn’t stop thinking about the med school essay; it had come out angrier than I’d intended, but it was true. I wondered if that was the real reason I resented Dom. Not just because he took my virginity and ran off, but because he’d ruined my chances of going to med school immediately after college. The bath did a great job of relaxing me—or was it that realization I’d just had? Either way, I finally felt sleepy enough to crawl back in bed.