1. West Coast Games - Part Two: The Free Fall


    Date: 8/11/2015, Categories: Fiction, Author: LushStories, Rating: 90, Source: sexstories.com

    chained by their own misery?” “My mother was like that,” she shrugged. “She forced herself to stay in a shitty marriage, forcing herself to get domestic and have babies and give up on her dreams. How could she be who she really was, suffocated by all that responsibility? She was a shell of a person. A mom. An unsatisfied wife. She didn’t have time to be real. She was too busy playing the roles that fate set out for her. That’s not living, Leo. That’s just surviving.” She was wistful then, looking out my bedroom window at the sheets of rain coming down against the glass. Roxy was like a child sometimes, vulnerable for fleeting moments. I should have appreciated them for what they were, rather than trying to force the sun back into her brooding gaze. “But you’re free of all that now, aren’t you?” I said. I set the portfolio down and pulled her legs toward me, making her slide across the sheets until she was bound up in my arms. “That was then, this is now.” She took the joint back from me and inhaled, blowing the sweet smoke into my mouth as we kissed. “I’m always free, Leo. That’s one thing you need to remember about me.” Her lips brushed mine, leaving me hungry, before tossing her head back with a giddy smile. “Life is a trip, Leo. A fun fucking trip. That’s my life’s motto; you can put it in print. That’s why I came to the coast. I have a different philosophy, bigger dreams…” “Uh huh,” I teased, sucking the skin along her neck. “And what dreams are those? They seem to ...
    change every week.” She laughed and pushed me down on the bed, straddling me and leaning in. I watched the stars dance in her eyes. There was no burnt out sky, no jaded fade in that pretty green gaze of hers. It drew me right in. “This week it’s to be your dirtiest fantasy. Then next week… who knows.” She shrugged off hard questions with all the innocence in the world, like a playful kitten. It was disarming and it let me become intoxicated with who I wanted her to be. Roxy’s game wasn’t meant to be deceptive. All along, there had been open clues that she was more of a predator than a kitten, but she was easy to forgive because the high points in our relationship had been so fantastic. When we were good, we were great. And let’s be honest, everyone comes with some baggage, don’t they? Who was I to judge? Instead, I put the blinders on, explaining things away in my head and embracing her flaws. I ignored the way she drank my liquor cabinets dry and the telltale white powdery residue that lingered in obvious scrape marks on the black laminate bathroom countertop. I liked to smoke a joint or two during downtime, but Roxy had other vices. Still, it would have been hypocritical to blame her. And really, it was just part of the hedonistic social scene, of being young and reckless, coupled with the ‘work hard play hard’ mentality. It’s just that Roxy never seemed to bother too much with the ‘work hard’ bit. “I’ll get to it,” she promised, rolling over in bed. “My agent isn’t giving me ...
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