Kara
The drive home from the gym is grueling. When I showed up to Power Plus earlier, I didn’t realize just how much of a workout I was going to get.
I’m sore as hell in more ways than one, but it feels good. My muscles ache, but I’m proud of it. And my pussy…
My pussy feels better than it has in years, but I think that probably has more to do with the post-workout stretch Chase and Eric gave me in the showers than it does my newfound fitness regime.
Chase and Eric…
Just wow. At first, I found them hot but annoying, but now, I don’t even know what to think. They wore me out in the gym and in the locker room, and now I can’t get them out of my head.
One thing’s for sure, though: the incentive of seeing them again is definitely going to ensure that I’m back at the gym tomorrow. Working out has never felt so fucking fun.
I pull into my complex, gather my belongings, and start the walk to my apartment. I get to the door and remember.
Fuck. Stairs.
I feel every muscle in my legs screaming at me as I climb the staircase to my apartment. Two flights feel like four hundred. As I brave each step, I clench the rail hard―almost as hard as I dug my nails into the men I just spent the evening fucking.
When I finally reach the top, I let out a huge sigh. My core is on fire, and my legs are shaky. I collapse myself against a wall as I fumble through my purse for my keys.
I search through a couple of different pockets, and I don’t see them. Panic sets in.
Did I leave them at the gym? God, I do NOT want to deal with those stairs again!
Thank fuck, I find them. They were already in my fucking hand.
God dammit, Kara. Get your shit together.
I guess when Chase and Eric fucked my brains out…they really fucked my brains out. I normally consider myself a clever girl, but the combination of all these endorphins and billionaire dicks has made me dumb as rocks.
I shake my head to myself and take another deep breath as I insert the key into the deadbolt and twist it. CLICK.
My first sight as I enter my living room is Holly-Anne on my couch, eating the bag of potato chips I’d been hiding from myself. She’s nested herself in blankets and is petting my cat Lucy with one hand while she flips through television channels with the other.
“Hey, Lucy,” Holly-Anne giggles as her eyes flick up to me. “Look what you dragged in. Long day, Kare-bear?”
“You have no idea,” I answer with a laugh. “I went to the gym.”
“For that long? Holy shit, woman. How are you still standing?” she says as I simultaneously collapse onto the cushion next to her and let my limbs flop.
“Aaghh,” I groan.
“What’s wrong?” Holly-Anne asks, grinning to herself at my suffering like a fucking sadist.
“I’m thirsty,” I respond. I groan again as I lift myself off the couch and walk into my kitchen.
Holly-Anne narrows her eyes as she watched me lurch over to the sink.
Suddenly, it hits her.
“Kara, you absolute ho!” she blurts.
“What? What did I do?” I reply, looking down to make sure there aren’t any cum stains on my tank top as I sip on my water. I might be hiding my face from her a little…but she doesn’t need to know that.
“More like who did you do,” she says through a mouthful of chips. “Come on, Kara. It’s fucking obvious.”
I wish I could still eat like Holly-Anne sometimes. I wish I could embrace my body again the way she does. But losing the weight wasn’t just about liking my body again—it was about feeling better in my own skin.
And after the little tryst I had with Chase and Eric in the showers…
“What’s obvious?” I’m doing my best to play dumb, but right now I can’t even fight back my grin.
“You were gone for hours. Your hips are swinging like you’re Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Your hair is wet and messy like you, I dunno, banged in a gym shower or something…plus you’re glowing like a pussy-shaped nightlight. You had sex!”
God damn her. She’s always fucking right. It’s a gift, really. Holly-Anne, detective.
After several moments of silence, I’m able to admit it. I wasn’t sure I believed it myself until now…but when Holly-Anne is right, she’s right.
“Okay, yeah. I had sex at the gym,” I agree, grabbing a scoop of cat food to refill Lucy’s bowl. I figure I’ll downplay it, though. No need to make a big fuss out of my steamy fuck sesh with two insanely hot, buff billionaires, right?
“It’s no big deal,” I lie.
Look, it’s not that I’m ashamed of it. Hell, I want to scream it from a mountain top. I want to yodel it through a meadow of wildflowers like I’m slutty Maria from The Sound of Porno Music.
But I need to play it cool. It’s such a new feeling—two guys at once—and I still need to process it a little bit before I start breaking into musical numbers about it.
Two guys at once. I’m not usually that kind of gal, babe! But something about their presence changed me when I was close to them.
They had me fantasizing about their buff, sweaty bodies tag-teaming me even before I saw them with their clothes off.
And once they were out of those sweaty workout clothes…I was so forward! So fucking bold! They were able to make me overcome all of my reservations and really, truly let go.
“Details, woman!” Holly-Anne demands as I stare at her, sipping my water. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
“Actually, I already did,” I say, smug as hell. “Multiple times.”
Her jaw drops. “Was he hot? Tell me he was hot.”
”Actually…” I begin, trying to figure out a way to explain that it was actually two guys. But before I can finish—
“Oh my god!” Holly-Anne squeals. “Did you fuck a girl? Dude, you had sex with a girl there?!”
“No, Holly-Anne,” I sigh. “Not a girl. But, it wasn’t just one guy…”
Her jaw drops harder.
“Gym orgy,” she whispers in awe. “Holy shit, I need a membership.”
“Two guys,” I say, dissolving into laughter. “Just two. That’s it, I swear.”
“Kara…oh my god, your first threesome.” Holly-Anne looks like a proud mother on prom night. “I need to capture this moment. Pose, bitch.”
She grabs my phone and points the camera at me, snapping a picture. Post-weight loss, post-workout, post-threesome. Once she has her shot, she waves my phone in my face for me to see.
“You need that shit on social media. Post it!” she commands.
“I do look kind of cute,” I admit with a wistful little smile. A little caught off guard, maybe, but my tits are perky, my arms look a little toned, and Holly-Anne is right—I am kind of glowing.
I have no makeup on, and my hair is a wet mess. Two years ago, I would have never liked a picture of myself like this. But now…I actually kind of like how I look, even when I’m not all glammed up.
I toss it up on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook and throw some hash tags in the captions.
“Damn girl,” Holly-Anne says, obviously still reeling from the news. “Your first fuck after the big breakup with Ryan is a threesome. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever get back in the game…and here you are, playing a double header.”
Ugh. I would have preferred that she didn’t mention him…but even I have to admit, it does feel kind of like sweet revenge.
“I mean, the guy dumped me after I lost my contract,” I say. “Can you really blame me for taking my time? I thought he loved me for me.”
“Ryan was a piece of shit, and he never deserved you,” she says solemnly. “You fucking know that, right?”
“Actually…I’ve been contemplating about whether or not I should message him again now that I’m skinny,” I reveal.
I don’t exactly feel good about that, honestly. I had missed him for so long. Or at least, I’d missed the companionship, the cutesy couple bullshit, and the admittedly less-than-regular sex.
“No, Kara. Fuck that. You’re moving on! And in a really fun way. Two guys at once…I am all about this.” Holly-Anne pops open the freezer door and starts digging around for ice cream. “How did it even happen? Spill, girl.”
“Well, they started watching me work out and helped me exercise.”
“Mmmhmm,” Holly-Anne says, grabbing a spoon. “And then?”
“Aaand then they caught me masturbating to them in the shower…so I guess they figured they’d make my fantasies a reality.”
“You crazy bitch. I am so proud of you,” she says, popping the lid off a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. “Want some?”
“Nah,” I laugh. “I’ve had plenty of cream in my diet for one day, if you know what I mean.”
I make my way into my bedroom to get out of these clothes. If I had gone to the gym, like, ever before in my life, I would have known to pack something clean to change into post-workout—but before today, my lazy ass didn’t even own workout clothes.
Something to keep in mind for next time, I guess. Because with Chase and Eric around…you can bet your ass there will be a next time.
I check my closet for clothes, turning hanger after hanger and finding nothing I want. I sigh. I need to go shopping again.
None of my shit that’s cute fits, and none of my shit that fits is cute.
I decide to just throw on some pajamas.
Fuck it, right? I have to tighten the little drawstring at the waist as much as I can to keep the pants on my hips, but it’s better than nothing. The silk feels good against my skin—nice and cool.
Back in the living room, my phone buzzes loud against the table. Like, constantly.
When I check it to see what’s up, my notifications are flooded with likes, hearts, and comments. It’s nothing unusual for a former plus-sized public figure…except that I’ve been pretty much media-silent since I lost my contract, and I figured I would have lost my following by now.
I scroll through the notifications, just perusing the positive comments. But then a notification comes in from him.
My heart skips a fucking beat, then lodges itself in my windpipe.
“Holly-Anne,” I croak as I turn my phone to her.
“That little shit,” Holly-Anne swears back.
Ryan has started following my profile again.
On some level, I’m actually surprised. Not that he’s joined my fan base, though…but more because I’m not actually sure that I care. My initial reaction was as expected, but the follow-up leaves something to be desired.
I mean, after Chase and Eric in the shower today—do I even give a fuck about that image-obsessed prick anymore?
“God, I’d forgotten all about him blocking me,” I admit. “Big surprise he wants to be back in the picture now.”
“Forgot? Kara, you dated him for years. Plural. And you forgot about him cutting you off? Ghosting on you?” Holly-Anne asks.
“I-I don’t need Ryan,” I explain. “Time heals all wounds, right? I just don’t see the point in being hurt over it. I don’t think I need him anymore.”
And I mean it. I don’t need him.
Every moment I spent with Ryan was spent in agonizing worry—was my muffin top showing? Could he see my tummy rolls if I put my legs up over my head?
Compare that to today, when I had two pretty-much-strangers feeling up my body, showering it with kisses and shoving their dicks inside it—and all I could think of was how fucking good it felt to be with them.
After Ryan, I second guessed everything. I moved a certain way to avoid any jiggling. I tried no carbs.
No fats. No calories. No anything.
I bought a Shakeweight for that man, for fuck’s sake! And none of it paid off—it just ended in binge after binge as I broke down from whatever fad diet I was on that week and ate my feelings.
No matter how much I ate, though, I still felt unhappy.
All it took was a few hours with Chase and Eric, and all of that literally melted.
I want to feel that again, I realize.
Fuck, I have to see them again.
“So are you going back to the gym tomorrow?” Holly-Anne asks, carving a path through the Ben & Jerry’s with her spoon.
“And the next day,” I laugh. “And the next. And the next.”