A Different Kind Of Dungeon Master - Sex Stories

A Different Kind Of Dungeon Master

... because it meant Rachel and I could stay friends forever. I’d always have her in my life, for this one sacred gaming night, every two weeks.

There was no risk of ending up a footnote on her list of exes.

As long as Rachel was with Cameron, I was safe.

But if she told me right now that Cameron was fully out of the picture, or had done something that meant heshould be out of the picture, there was a very real danger that I might try to kiss her, and end up making everything worse.

Rachel blew her nose again, and let out a long sigh. My heart hammered in the silence.

“I wish I could just feel normal things,” she said, clutching her d20 die to her chest. “Want normal things. If I could just do that, maybe I’d be happy by now.”

“I’m… not sure what you mean by normal,” I said honestly. “Are you… are you trying to…?”

My stomach tightened with the opposing hope and horror of finding myself truly, permanently safe.

“Because, I mean…” I forced myself to say it. “If you were gay, you could tell me. It wouldn’t change—”

“I’m attracted to men,” Rachel stopped me, firm and confident, and the pressure on my stomach lifted, or at least shifted angle. “Trust me, if all I was missing in a partner was boobs, I’d have gone and found someone who had them by now. What I want… I’m starting to think it may not be out there.”

“Oh,” I said. “Um, well, what do you… If you don’t mind—”

“I know you want me to tell you, Seth,” Rachel said flatly. “How it ended. How ...

... italways ends.”

My breath caught in my chest. So ithad ended, then.

“I know I’m being cryptic and ridiculous,” she said.

“No!” I said. “But I mean, if youwanted to tell—”

“I feel like I’m taking such horrible advantage of you,” she said. “By not telling you. It’s like I’m tricking you into not making fun of me. But I just don’t know if I could take hearing it from you too.”

“I wouldn’t make fun of you,” I said.

“Oh, you would,” she accused. “You’d say, ‘That does it, Rachel. You’re living proof that women have an insatiable appetite for asshole, metaphorically and possibly literally, and it’s your own fault you can’t ever be happy!’”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” I said. “Or like making fun of someone. More like a prelude to violence.”

“Well Idon’t have an insatiable appetite for asshole!”

“Okay.”

“I can’tstand it. When a man treats me like he thinks I’m something other than a person, I literally want him dead.”

“I’m aware,” I said. “I was there when you punched Codey. It was dope.”

“And then I want to vomit all over his corpse,” Rachel ranted on. “Does that sound like an insatiable appetite?”

“Nope.”

I paused a moment, in case she wanted to keep going.

When she returned to silence, I asked, “Did Cameron turn out to be an asshole?”

Rachel sighed again, heavily, winding her braid around her fingers.

“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

I watched her, helplessly, for some scrap of anything that I could say something intelligent ...