Breaking Jessi Ch. 02

The headache came on a little after lunch. It was Wednesday, four days after my ex walked out of my life and into the arms of his fat-tittied cow, and it was also my first day back at work. I'd called in sick on Monday and Tuesday, but I hadn't been sick. I'd been binging on tequila, trying to drown my grief, guilt, and nearly ever-present anxiety. But it hadn't worked, especially not after I'd sucked and fucked a greasy liquor store clerk for three bottles of tequila because I'd forgotten my fake ID.

Of course, if I was honest with myself, the fake ID wasn't the real reason I'd done it. I could've walked the two blocks back home and gotten it. I'd wanted to fuck the creep. Not at first, though. Forgetting my fake ID was an accident, but the situation had given me an opportunity to reassert to myself who and what I was.

I wasn't the 'normal' girl my ex thought he saw in me. I was a slut, nothing more, and deserved to be treated like one. Except I hadn't been a slut with the clerk. I'd been a whore, plain and simple, with tequila as my payment. At least two of the bottles he'd given me had been top-shelf shit, not the no-name brand I usually bought. And after he left, I drank enough of that good stuff to drown the brain bugs. It was also enough for me to pass out and not wake until Tuesday afternoon.

I'd known as soon as I stumbled out of bed, head pounding, mouth parched, muscles aching, that I was dehydrated. I forced myself to drink a bottle of water instead of the half-full, and still open, bottle of tequila on my kitchen table. But my stomach rebelled, and I made it to my bathroom just in time to puke all over the floor, adding to a pool of vomit already there. I had no memory of throwing up the night before or that morning, but evidently, I hadn't made it to the toilet then either.

I remained sitting on my bathroom floor, the tile cold against my naked ass and legs, and waited for the stomach cramps to pass. After a few seconds, the smell of the vomit was too much, and I wretched again, although nothing but a few drops of foul tasting bile actually came up.

You need more tequila, a growing mob of millipedes in my brain suggested, but I did my best to ignore them since I knew they were wrong. I wanted more tequila. I needed water.

Forcing myself to stand, I grabbed the still slightly damp towel I had used after showering the night before and spread it over the vomit. That cut down on the odor, as well as putting the disgusting mess out of my sight. Following a quick shower, I returned to the kitchen and got another bottle of water. This one I sipped, careful not to drink too much too fast. The cramps in my stomach returned after the first couple of swallows, but not nearly as bad. Encouraged, I ate a slice of bread, drinking a little water between each bite. By the time I was done, the cramps were all but gone.

The millipedes in my head were a different matter. They'd multiplied, and they'd brought with them a mixture of memories of my ex and Kayden, the liquor store clerk I'd fucked for tequila. With them came two ideas of who I could be. One was the girlfriend Mark, my ex, had wanted me to be. The other was slut turned whore who'd fucked for booze. And as the warring thoughts of who I could be and who I was clashed in my brain, my headache grew. Worse, I felt panic rising and knew an attack was not far off.

My first thought was of tequila, but I fought the urge. Instead, I grabbed another bottle of water and went back to the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and took out my bottle of anti-anxiety medicine. Hoping that I didn't have enough alcohol still in my system for it to be a problem, I swallowed the pill and chased it with a long drink of water and waited to see what my stomach did. Luckily, after a couple of minutes of nausea, it went back to its only slightly unsettled state.

After dressing in sweats and a loose t-shirt, I called my work. I'd seen a call to my boss on my cell's call log from that morning, but I did not remember making that call. I hoped I had not said anything too bad when I'd talked to him earlier.

"Hey, Karl. It's Jessica," I said when he answered, surprised by the hoarseness of my own voice.

"Hey, Jessica. You feeling any better?"

"Yeah, I think so. I was so out of it this morning I don't really remember calling you, so I wanted to..."

"Don't worry about it. Just take it easy today and get better, okay?"

"I'll try."

"Ok. See you tomorrow."

I ended the call, feeling guilty for the sympathy from my boss. He truly believed I was sick, but I was really just a stupid, hungover bitch. At least, that was the thought that I couldn't get out of my head just then. Sitting on my bed, I buried my face in my hands and cried until the medicine kicked in.

I hated being on my anti-anxiety pills. They did nothing to stop my bad thoughts. They just slowed it all down and made it harder to focus on any particular thought for long. They also dulled my senses, especially touch, and made me lethargic. But at least they kept me from slipping into a panic attack.

As the afternoon and then the evening wore on, I tried to distract myself by watching TV or playing games on my laptop and phone. But my headache persisted, so I went to the small gym in my apartment complex, hoping that physical activity might help that. And it did at first, until my neighbor Colton came in. I'd fucked Colton a couple of months earlier when I was mad at Mark. It'd been a mistake. Sure, it'd had the desired effect of reminding my ex I had other options, but Colton had been a terrible lay, unsure of what he was doing and unable to take any hints about what he should do. And to make it all worse, his interest in me had doubled afterward, even when I had explained to him he had no shot.

"Hey Jessica!" he said, beaming at me. "You look very pretty."

I knew I didn't, not with dark puffy eyes, frizzy hair pulled into a ponytail, and no makeup. And it kinda pissed me off that he would say I did. A few rage beetles scuttled into my brain, and I knew it was time to go.

"You leaving already?" the skinny young man asked me, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Look, I'm never going to fuck you again, Colton. So just quit trying, okay?"

As a wide-eyed, shocked expression settled onto his otherwise bland face, I knew I should feel guilty. But I didn't. I felt angry, and the anger was something I could concentrate on, something that could pull me out of the medicine induced lethargy even better than exercise.

"I was just being nice..."

"Don't bullshit me, Colton. You want back in my pants. That's all you ever want. Well, it ain't happening, so leave me the fuck alone."

I let the door to the gym bang behind me as I stormed out. I didn't bother looking back. I was quite sure he wouldn't follow me. But he surprised me. By the time I reached my door, he had caught up.

"Jessica, wait," he said, grabbing my arm as I was about to walk into my apartment. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Well, Mark dumped me for a fat cunt with big tits. And I sucked off and fucked a guy from the liquor store to get more tequila so I could drink myself into a stupor. There's vomit all over my bathroom floor, and the only thing that's keeping me from falling apart is crappy medicine and being pissed at you."

The shocked look back on his face, Colton stared at me. And that made me all the more angry. But being that pissed brought back memories of Mark, of when I would be mad at him but super fucking horny. To my surprise, I felt heat between my legs and a tingle in my pussy.

SHIT! I screamed in my own head. I didn't want to fuck Colton. I didn't want to fuck anyone, except maybe Mark. But there I was, mad as fuck and horny, my wimp of a neighbor actually holding onto my arm with a strong enough grip to make me think maybe he actually had the balls to do something.

"Let go of me, Colton," I snarled, yanking my arm. Part of me hoped he'd hold on, that he'd take charge and give me the fucking I needed even if it wasn't what I thought I wanted. But he didn't.

Colton stepped back, his eyes downcast as he let his now empty hand fall to his side.

"Fucking pussy," I said, relishing the pain in his watery brown eyes.

Sure, I knew I'd feel bad later. I always did when I hurt somebody's feelings. But in the moment, I felt powerful. And given how I'd been feeling ever since Mark left, powerful was good.

Back in my apartment with the door closed, I stripped and lay on my bed, one hand massaging my tits and almost painfully erect nipples while my other sought out my sopping wet cunt. At first, I imagined the look on Colton's face when I called him a pussy, focusing on the anger that had brought me to such need despite the effects of my medicine. Then my thoughts shifted to Mark, of how we would fuck when I was pissed and how he always made me come.

Turning on my side, I reached to my nightstand, opened the drawer, and found my bullet vibrator. Within seconds, it was buzzing with energy as I pushed it against my clit. And after maybe a minute more, my body tensed as I came, one hand shoving the vibrator into my now quivering cunt as my other hand twisted my tit.

I rested for a bit, then repeated the process twice more. And although those orgasms weren't as intense as the first one, they were enough to leave me with a sense of satisfaction that kept my mind from turning to the thoughts I couldn't escape.

After a light dinner of water and a sandwich, I masturbated one more time, using my fingers instead of the bullet. I only came once, but it was a body shaking release after a long, slow buildup. And within a few minutes of coming, I slipped into a restful, dreamless sleep.

***

Morning light streamed into my bedroom, waking me. To my surprise, I felt refreshed and determined to go to work. I did hit a slight hiccup when I saw the towel on my bathroom floor and remembered that I'd never cleaned up the vomit. But by being careful not to step on the towel or breathe in too deeply, I was able to put that out of my mind as I got ready for the day,

When I arrived at work, Karl, my boss, came to my cubicle to make sure I was feeling okay. I assured him I was, but as we talked, I felt some guilt bugs stir in my head. I was happy when he left, as I could concentrate on my work, which is mind-numbing data entry. And that was the main reason I liked doing it. It took very little thought yet required enough concentration that I didn't think about anything else while I did it. And because of that, because it gave my mind something to focus on other than anxiety, guilt, shame, and whatever else I might be feeling, it was a great job for me.

But it was not a job I could do easily with a headache. The pain was enough to distract me from the data entry. And as it did so, thoughts I didn't want to have wiggled their way into my mind, their tiny legs churning as the multiplied into an Undulating mass of millipedes. And as the afternoon wore on, it only got worse. Finally, I went to see my boss.

"Karl, I'm going to have to go. I have a massive headache," I said from his doorway.

Karl looked up from his computer and frowned. I would've preferred that he smile. Karl was a thin, relatively attractive man in his early thirties with sandy blonde hair and pale blue eyes. But he had a goofy as fuck smile, and it was easy to talk to him when he wore it. His frown was altogether different. It set the lines on his face in such a way as to make him both more handsome and more intimidating. In fact, when he frowned was the only time I found him attractive. And given my mental state, I didn't need to be attracted to my boss right then. The temptation to use sex as an escape was too much.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, standing up and walking toward me, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah. Had a rough weekend. My boyfriend dumped me, and then I think I got food poisoning."

"Okay, but you're almost out of sick time."

"Yeah, I know," I shrugged, trying to smile at him while I repressed an urge to offer to suck him off if he let me leave early without charging my dwindling sick time. I didn't really want to do that or anything else with him—it would probably lead to the end of my employment there—but I was desperate to distract myself, and a cock in my mouth or pussy almost always let me do that.

"Well, I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

I nodded and fled before he could say anything else, and before I did something I knew I would end up regretting.

***

I arrived home around 3:00 pm, and I'd already downed a shot of tequila when a text pinged my phone. I picked it up from the table, but I was afraid to look at it, afraid the text was from Mark. I didn't know what it would do to me if it was. But I had to know.

I dropped my eyes and saw the name "Sheri" at the top of the screen above a picture of a smiling strawberry blonde girl a couple of years older than me. An involuntary smile crossed my lips as I unlocked the phone. Sheri was a waitress Mark and I had met about a month earlier.

Mark had withheld my orgasm, and told me I could not jill myself off, as a way to coerce me into a 'normal' date. But on that date, I had pushed back by loudly asking Sheri, who was our waitress, whether she thought I'd have to put out if I ordered steak and lobster. Mark was angry and Sheri was embarrassed, at least at first. But as the dinner wore on and Mark and I argued, Sheri's demeanor changed. She came out with more cleavage showing and was flirtatious with Mark. She then left her phone number on Mark's copy of the bill. I made him throw it away after we left the restaurant, but that was not the end of our association with Sheri.

One of the things Mark and I had argued about at the dinner was Sheri, specifically my comment not to stare at her because there was no chance of a threesome with her. Of course, Mark had not even suggested such a thing—I had used it both to remind him of our disastrous threesome with an ex-friend of mine as well as to embarrass him. But Sheri overheard us, and that was the source of her change of attitude. She was subservient by nature and had a fantasy of serving a couple, and our conversation had given her some hope we might be able to fulfill that fantasy for her.

I learned all that a couple of weeks after the date when I went to the restaurant and talked to her. Mark had told me he was going to be with his other lover, Jessika with a 'k'—who I called 'Big Tits'—for Steak and a Blowjob day, which pissed me off as much as it hurt me. So, I wanted to do something to upstage Jessika, especially after she'd rebuffed my suggestion we give him a two-girl blowjob. Almost immediately, I thought of the waitress who had given Mark her number. He'd thrown it away, but I knew where she worked. And once we sat down and talked, she agreed to my plan without hesitation.

The day after Steak and a Blowjob day, Mark came over to my place expecting me to feed him and blow him. He found Sheri and me both there ready to pleasure him. At first, he balked at the idea, given my anger after he'd fucked my ex-friend in that earlier threesome when our deal had been oral only between him and her. But I assured him Sheri was only there for the blowjob, that I'd already taken care of her needs earlier, and that she had returned the favor. We ended up both licking her pussy after Sheri and I gave him head, and I told him he could fuck her. But he didn't do so. Then she'd gone. I hadn't talked to her since then, but I felt a warm tingle when I saw her picture come up on my phone.

"Hey cutie! I know U said 1 time only. But had 2 ask if U & Mark up 4 more fun 2night? Or maybe just U?"

I vivid memory of coming on her tongue flitted through my brain as I read the last four words of her text, and I squeezed my thighs together as the tingle spread up my abdomen. What Sheri was offering might just be what I needed, and without the issues that fucking random guys brought.

"Mark & I brk up. Want 2 cum over?" I wrote back, my fingers shaking a little as I hit send.

"Sorry about Mark. But fuck yes!" read her almost immediate response.

I sent back a smiley face emoji, a devil face emoji, and a tongue out emoji. Sheri didn't reply, and I wondered if she was already on her way.

***

Sheri's soft lips and tongue worshiped my engorged nipples as she lay on top of me on my still made bed. At first, she'd been concerned about the greenish yellow bruises on my tits, a souvenir from my last time with my ex, but I'd assured her I was okay. And after her first tentative efforts, the pretty strawberry blonde attacked my breasts with a passion that left my pussy quivering and drenched.

"God, I love your tits," she moaned as she kissed the underside of my boobs.

"They're not too small?" I asked, my mind going back to the liquor store clerk's comment about me needing a boob job. I'd never really let that stuff bother me before—I liked my shape and thought my boobs matched my frame—other than to be jealous of how girls with big tits didn't have to work as hard for attention from most guys. But after Mark had left me for Big Tits, I think I was a bit more sensitive about it than I used to be.

"Shit, you know I don't think so," Sheri replied, her hands squeezing my boobs. "A bit more than a handful for me, maybe less for some guys. But perfectly shaped, and oh so sensitive."

As if to prove her point, she flicked then pinched both my nipples, bringing a low moan from my throat and sending shivers through my body.

"A guy said I needed a boob job," I told her when I could talk again.

"Mark?"

"No. He never said anything like that. Despite his other slut having huge tits, I think he really liked mine."

"I know I do."

"It was a guy I hooked up with on Monday."

"Want me to kick his ass?" the strawberry blonde asked, taking a break from what she was doing, which involved nibbling at my nipples and breasts in ways that made me want to beg her to stop as much as to beg her not to stop.

"No. I want you to do what you were just doing," I breathed, stroking her soft hair.

"You don't want my tongue in your puss?"

"I didn't say that."

A smile on her freckled face, Sheri stood up, her eyes locked on mine.

"Take off your panties," she said while removing her bra and exposing her large, soft boobs, which bore as many freckles, if not more, than her face.

"You too," I replied as I slid my panties down my legs. "We can sixty-nine."

"Well, I would love that," Sheri grinned. "But I get the feeling you need this right now. You aren't your normal, assertive self."

I almost objected that my normal self was not really that assertive, but from Sheri's perspective, I might have been. I'd always been much more in control with girls than with guys, and last time it had been that way with Sheri even before Mark arrived later in the evening. But today, I was more than happy to let her take charge.

"Okay," I whispered. "But can I kiss your tits first?"

"Of course, Jessi," she purred, getting on the bead and crawling up over me so her boobs hung in my face.

I drew in a deep breath, savoring the clean smell of her skin and the soft floral scent of her perfume. Then I grabbed her tits, which were quite a bit more than a handful for me, and I pulled one pink nipple between my teeth, elongating it before releasing. I repeated the process with the other as Sheri mewled pleasure.

"You said kiss," she sighed after I'd gone back and forth between her now slick nubs several times.

"Kiss, bite, lick—it's all the same," I said before licking the soft flesh of her hanging cleavage.

"No... it's not... the same... this is...better," the other girl panted, and I saw goosebumps pop up on her pale, freckled skin as she shuddered above me.