Meagan from Unclean Conscience
Steve* had crisp blue eyes. Sometimes I was absolutely convinced that the sky was directly reflected in them. Those eyes convinced me to do many things I wouldn’t have otherwise.
Our relationship was a long distance one. Which I was used to at this point, after getting close to a few men right before I would head back to college. For some reason, I couldn’t see that my being in another city for school attracted men who had crippling fears of commitment.
If only I knew what I know now.
Steve had broken my heart a few times. Promising grandiose adventures and gifts. Promising futures and weddings. Promising happiness. And over and over he broke the promises, forgot Valentine’s days, forgot anniversaries, and of course, forgot birthdays.
But whenever another relationship ended, I headed back to Steve. He was always there. Always ready. Still promising. I fell for it over and over again. My friends would tell me not to talk to him. That he was a liar, and a cheater, and that I deserved better. I don’t know if it was that I didn’t believe them, or if I did and refused to admit it.
Steve worked with paint – on four-wheelers and surf boards, and anything he could make money from. He was actually an amazing artist – but he stuck to this because it was the world he knew. His brother was a BMX racer, and their whole family was into off roading, and any sort of outdoor activity that could potentially kill them.
I was not unwilling to try, but Steve would tell me that I was “too fragile” to go with them. That I was a princess. Which I hated being called. He never even let me attempt any of these things, and because of that – we never spent time together on the weekends. He was always off-roading with his friends – and skanky girls from their neighborhood.
I say skanky because it’s true and not because I hate them for probably blowing my boyfriend on the back of a four wheeler or in the backseat of his gigantic, ugly Jeep.
But those skanks are not the point.
One weekend, Steve called to say that he was going to come visit me at college. I was so thrilled, I told everyone in my dorm. I cleaned my room, showered and scrubbed excessively and could not wait to finally have sex with my boyfriend in a bed – instead of in a car (his usual favorite).
But when Steve showed up that Saturday, he informed me that he was actually going to get a paint order in a nearby city. He was hoping that I would come with him. I realized that he didn’t come to see me – but to get laid, conveniently.
I faked a smile and told him I would go with. At least we’d spend time together, I figured. We climbed into his bright red sports car and headed off. Steve loved taking the back roads so he could go as fast as he wanted, and scare me half to death.
We got to the nearby city, and pulled up to the shop he ordered from.
“Come in with me, babe, so I can show them what a cute girl I have” Steve said as he was staring at his reflection in the back window of the car.
“Okay” I said, highly unimpressed.
Inside, he introduced me to Dave, the owner of the shop. They talked about things I had no interest in learning about, and then Steve started talking about me to this guy who I had met approximately three minutes earlier.
“This is my girl, Meagan.” He said.
“Hi. Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand limply, but he tightened his grip.
“Steve, your girl’s stacked” he laughed.
“I know, right?” Steve replied.
I was in shock. Was he seriously doing this right in front of me? I forced out an awkward smile and prayed this day would be over soon. How stupid I was to think Steve would ever change.
On the way back, Steve pulled over on the side of the road and stopped the roaring douchebag engine.
“What are you doing?” I asked
“Well,” he said “I won’t see you for a while, so I thought we could get some lovin’ in”
I was humiliated and mad. But I would be damned if I didn’t get laid after all this bullshit.
Sex occurred as usual in the tiny red sports car – him screwing me while I waited my turn. Instead, the experience usually ended with me messy and ungratified. Because Steve loved to finish on me. Anywhere on me – chest, face, hair, mouth. He was not a picky man.
And then, it happened.
Steve pulled out to come [I presume in my mouth]. Instead, he came in my eye.
“It burns like a thousand suns” I screamed.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Let me see” he said.
He turned on the dome light and renounced “That shit is red as fuck. It’s like a goddamn lobster!”
“Oh, fucking great” I said. “Take me home”
I slammed the door as a quiet goodbye.
“Bye babe. I call you when I get home. ILY.” He said. He always said “ILY” instead of I love you. Should have been a fucking sign.
Then, I got back to my dorm and realized that my weeping, red eye, might be a giveaway to something unnatural.
I have always been an amazing liar.
I climbed to the top of the stairs at my building and heard the girls in the hall. They were waiting up for me.
“How was it? What did you do? Is he gone?” they echoed each other like a chorus.
“It was fine. I’m tired.” I said, holding my cum eye.
“What’s wrong with your eye?” one girl said.
“He has lots of, um, hangers in his car” I stuttered out. “And I got my eye stuck on one.”
I got in the room and slammed the door.
“This would never have happened” my roommate said, sitting in the dark, “ If you didn’t love the cock so damned much.”
*Name has been changed.