Yet, I know it’s not Mrs. Money. Roger’s mom works late hours as an attorney, and it’s too early for her to be home. Instead, I know what it is: it’s my boyfriend watching porn. Nothing wrong with that. A lot of teenage boys watch porn, and in fact, I’d be more surprised if Roger didn’t watch porn.
With a grin on my face, I quietly creep towards Roger’s room intending to catch him red-handed. You’d think he would be a little more discreet, given the loud moans and wails which are ringing down the hall, but I’m not surprised. His mom’s not going to be home until late, so why not take advantage of the privacy?
With a mischievous grin on my face, I continue to creep towards his room. Clearly, waiting for the “right time” is getting to be difficult for Roger; maybe we can do a little fooling around to take the edge off until prom. With an excited look in my eyes, I gently push open Roger’s door, hoping I can surprise him during a particularly steamy scene.
But instead of the TV monitor I expected to see, instead, a horrendous sight greets my eyes. It’s Roger, but he’s with his mom’s fiancé’s daughter, Carmen. What the fuck? This can’t be real. They’re practically related! How can he be banging her?
Yet, it’s true. Frozen in shock, I can’t seem to look away as I see them writhe around on the bed together. Roger’s got Carmen on her hands and knees, and with horrified eyes, I watch as Roger pulls Carmen’s hair back as he smacks her ass. Moaning in delight, she pushes back further as if trying to take in as much of Roger as she possibly can. Pulling her hair even tighter, Roger leans down to bite Carmen’s shoulder causing her to scream in pleasure. They don’t even notice me because they’re going at it so hard.
No. This can’t be happening. Roger wouldn’t do this to me because we were just exchanging words of love earlier today at school. He wouldn’t do something like this behind my back. He’s not that kind of person; this is not the sweet guy who’s been my boyfriend all year.
Yet despite my reassurances to myself, it’s hard to argue with what is right in front of my face. At that moment, Carmen lets out a particularly long squeal, and Roger reaches a hand between her thighs to pinch her clit, making her shriek even louder.
Still standing there, I can’t seem to make sense of what I am seeing. Not only is my boyfriend cheating on me, but he’s doing it with the girl who will soon be his stepsister. What the FUCK?!?!?! Helplessly, I watch as Roger continues to drill Carmen into oblivion. I stare open-mouthed as he leans over to start playing with Carmen’s clit again, sending her crashing into an orgasm. She moans and screams loudly, her entire body shaking with ecstasy as Roger pummels her with increased fervor.
Finally, Carmen collapses on the bed, with Roger still buried deep between her thighs. He grins again, and leans back to suck Carmen’s juices off of his fingers, catching his breath. It’s at this moment that Roger finally notices me standing in the doorway. With a cocky grin on his face, Roger finishes licking Carmen’s juices off his fingers before flipping me off. I can’t believe it. Is he really giving me the middle finger? Right now?
Sure enough, he is. Then he does something even worse. Without taking his eyes off of me, he leans back over to push his fingers back between Carmen’s legs. Still grinning maliciously at me, he brings her to another orgasm with his caresses before grabbing her hair and drilling her even harder. It’s as if my presence makes him want to put on a show.
I don’t know how long I stand there with my eyes wide and mouth open. Watching the two of them go at it like frantic rabbits makes me feel...I don’t know how I feel. Shocked? Disgusted? Heartbroken? It all seems to run together.
Finally, though, I find myself red-hot with anger. Taking a deep breath, I scream, “You fucking bastard!” before turning and pounding down the stairs with tears streaming down my cheeks. Tripping down the stairs in my haste to get away from the scene, I almost run over Mrs. Money.
“Amelia, what’s wrong honey?” she asks, perplexed. She’s clearly just come from work. Her hair is pinned in an neat bun, and she has a blue business suit on.
Unable to answer, I wave her away as I run to my car. Slamming the door, I start my vehicle and squeal out of the driveway.
Driving home, I can’t get the visual of Roger and Carmen out of my mind. It’s as if the scene is playing on a loop in my mind. The way they looked wrapped around each other. The way they moved as if they knew what the other liked. It’s clear this wasn’t the first time. That pig! How could he do this to me?
Plus, how many other times has he cheated on me during the past year? Clearly, he and his stepsister have been intimate for a while now. Here I was thinking that our relationship actually meant something to both of us, while he was off playing games with another woman the whole time.
Pulling into my driveway, I slam the car into park before pounding on the steering wheel. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? God knows that no one is going to want a short, chubby girl like me. I was lucky to land Roger to begin with, and now, I have nothing. That thought seems to unleash the floodgates on my emotions as sobs heave through my body.
Curling into myself, I finally give myself the opportunity to truly grieve. Chest-wracking sobs make tears flood my cheeks like rain on a stormy day. Who cheats on their girlfriend like this? Who leads such a double life? Who the fuck sleeps with their future stepsister? I mean seriously, WHO DOES THAT? If Roger didn’t want to be with me all he had to do was say so. I would have been heartbroken, but I would have understood. Shit happens. But it didn’t have to be a clusterfuck like it is now.
None of that matters, however, because I’m sure as hell not going to stay with him after the BS I just saw. Pompous ass! Taking my phone out, I pulled up Roger’s number in my phone. I send him a quick text to tell him that we’re over. There are definitely some curse words in my rather rude message, but I don’t care.
Then, I go to all of my social media profiles to block him from contacting me further. Deleting his information from my phone is the last step to cut all ties with Roger. If I don’t exist to him, then he damn sure doesn’t exist to me. Once I finish, I lay my head on the steering wheel and cry, suddenly exhausted. Who’s going to want me now?
3
Amelia
Feeling like a zombie, I climb out of my car. For the first time, I notice that there are other vehicles in my driveway. Oh right. It’s my dad’s weekly Tuesday poker night with his old college friends. Great. I feel like shit, but now I have to smack a smile on my face for my dad and his poker buddies.
But it’s important to put on a show because who knows what Dad would do to Roger if he found out what happened? As much as I would love to see Roger get his comeuppance, I don’t want to see Dad end up in jail because of some dumbass high schooler.
Climbing back into my car, I begin the long process of fixing my face so that, hopefully, no one can tell that I’ve been bawling my eyes out. Thank heavens I placed an emergency makeup kit in my car. It just goes to show that you never know when it might be needed. Finally satisfied with the way I look, I climb back out of my vehicle and face the walkway up to the front door.
I try taking a few slow breaths to calm my nerves as I make my way to the house. Taking one last breath to center myself, I place a smile on my lips as I push open the door only to be met with a chorus of hellos from my dad and his friends. Sure enough, there’s Daddy with his buddies. There’s Old Joe, who despite being the same age as my father, appears to be about seventy or so. Then there’s Paolo from Italy, but he’s no Italian Stallion. No, Paolo looks more like Joe Pesci than Rocky Balboa. He can’t be more than five foot four, and even now, his short legs dangle from the chair.