u/KinkWolf889

All characters are above the age of 18.

Samantha had been pushing me to explore the bi side of myself for months. Not gently. She brought it up the way she brought up most things she wanted calm, direct, and already decided.

“There’s a gloryhole booth on the edge of town,” she said one night, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Anonymous. Discreet. No faces, no names. Just a wall. I think it would be a good way for you to try it without everything feeling so… personal.”

I hesitated, which she clearly expected.

Later, as we were getting ready to leave, she stopped me in the bedroom.

“I want you wearing something underneath,” she said, holding up a pair of soft, feminine briefs and a thin, fitted tank. “Under your shorts and hoodie. Nothing flashy on the outside. Just so you feel it the whole time.”

I started to shake my head. Samantha simply opened her jacket.

Underneath she was wearing black lace lingerie that left almost nothing to the imagination. She didn’t say a word at first. She just let me look, then spoke quietly.

“This is what I’m wearing for you. Now put those on.”

I caved.

I changed while she watched, then pulled my regular shorts and hoodie over the top. The soft fabric underneath felt foreign against my skin. Samantha gave a small, satisfied nod, grabbed her keys, and we headed out to the car.

She kept one hand on my thigh the entire drive, her thumb moving in slow circles. She didn’t need to say much more. The message was already clear.

We stepped into the booth and the door clicked shut behind us. Samantha shrugged off her jacket without hesitation. I followed her lead, still nervous, the soft fabric under my shorts and hoodie suddenly feeling much more noticeable.

She turned to me, calm and steady.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “You’re not doing this alone.”

We waited. The booth stayed quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the soft shift of fabric as Samantha adjusted her stance. Then a soft thud came from the other side of the wall, followed by the slow appearance of a cock through the hole.

Samantha’s hand settled on the back of my neck, guiding me forward without force but with clear intent.

“Go on,” she murmured. “Just like we talked about.”

I leaned in. She kept her hand there as I took the cock into my mouth, the anonymous weight of it unfamiliar and heavy on my tongue. Beside me, Samantha’s free hand slipped between her own legs, fingers moving slowly while she watched. Her breathing stayed even, controlled, the same quiet dominance she’d had since we left the house.

She didn’t rush me. She simply stayed close, guiding when needed, touching herself as I worked, the booth filled with the soft sounds of what we were doing.

The first guy finished in my mouth with a low grunt from the other side of the wall. I started to pull back, but Samantha’s hand tightened slightly on the back of my neck.

“Give it to me,” she said, voice low and steady.

I turned to her. She leaned in and kissed me, slow and deliberate, taking the cum from my tongue as her fingers kept moving between her legs. The kiss lasted longer than I expected, her tongue sweeping through my mouth until she’d taken all of it.

We barely had time to separate before another cock pushed through the hole. Samantha shifted without hesitation, dropping to her knees in front of it. She looked back at me once, eyes calm and commanding, then took him into her mouth.

I stayed where I was, watching. The way she worked him was practiced and unhurried, one hand braced against the wall, the other still between her own thighs. The soft wet sounds filled the booth. It was hotter than I expected...seeing her like that, fully in control even while she was the one on her knees.

That guy finished in her mouth with a muffled groan from the other side. Samantha held him there a moment longer, then slowly pulled off. She turned to me, still on her knees, and grabbed the back of my head. Her fingers tightened just enough to tilt my face upward.

She leaned in and parted her lips, letting the cum drop from her mouth straight into mine. Thick and warm, it spilled across my tongue as she watched. I swallowed what I could while the rest trickled from the corner of my mouth. My cock strained hard against the soft fabric under my shorts, painfully so, every pulse made worse by the quiet control in her eyes.

Samantha wiped her thumb across my lower lip, then pressed it between my teeth.

“Good,” she said softly.

A third cock pushed through the hole...thicker and longer than the first two. I felt a surge of eagerness and started to lean in, ready to take it, when I heard Samantha’s sharp intake of breath beside me.

“What?” I asked, glancing over.

Her eyes were a little wide. She stared at the base of the cock where the hole was just big enough to show the skin above it. A skull and flames tattoo sat clearly visible.

“I recognize that tattoo,” she whispered. “That’s Garrett.”

We both went still. The only sound in the booth was our breathing and the low, impatient grunt that came from the other side of the wall a second later.

Samantha’s eyes took on an evil glint. Before I could say anything she forced my head forward, pushing me onto Garrett’s thick cock. I opened for him on instinct, the heavy weight of him stretching my mouth as she held me there.

While I sucked she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and started taking photos. The soft click of the camera mixed with the wet sounds of my mouth working him. Holy shit, this was insane...but the hard strain of my cock made it obvious how turned on I was.

Garrett came hard, flooding my mouth with more cum than I thought possible. It spilled past my lips and dribbled down my chin while Samantha kept the phone steady, capturing every second.

The moment he pulled back she was on me. She kissed me hard, tasting him on my tongue, and shoved a hand down the front of my shorts. She freed my cock, yanked her panties aside, and sank down onto me right there in the booth, riding me fast as heavy.

Samantha kept riding me as I came, not slowing down even when the overstimulation started to edge into pain. She only stopped once my cock had softened completely inside her, then climbed off with a satisfied look.

It was clear no one else was coming to the hole. We cleaned up as best we could and got dressed in a hurried, messy way.

We made it back to the car in silence. Once the doors shut, Samantha let out a low breath and glanced over at me.

“Fuck, that was hot,” she said. “Wouldn’t have called that in a million years.”

I nodded, still catching my breath. “Yeah. Same.”

She unlocked her phone and scrolled through the photos she’d taken. “You know… I could send these to Garrett. He has to know it wasn’t just women in those booths.”

I stared at the screen for a moment, the images of me on my knees with his cock in my mouth still clear in my head. After a few seconds I looked at her and said, “Yes.”

Samantha leaned across the console, kissed me hard, and whispered, “I fucking love you.” Then she turned back to her phone and started typing.

We drove home, cleaned up properly, and went out for dinner like nothing unusual had happened. Midway through the meal her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, a slow smile spreading across her face, then turned it toward me.

Garrett had replied. He was down...but he had a few requests.

All characters are above the age of 18.

Samantha had been pushing me to explore the bi side of myself for months. Not gently. She brought it up the way she brought up most things she wanted calm, direct, and already decided.

“There’s a gloryhole booth on the edge of town,” she said one night, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Anonymous. Discreet. No faces, no names. Just a wall. I think it would be a good way for you to try it without everything feeling so… personal.”

I hesitated, which she clearly expected.

Later, as we were getting ready to leave, she stopped me in the bedroom.

“I want you wearing something underneath,” she said, holding up a pair of soft, feminine briefs and a thin, fitted tank. “Under your shorts and hoodie. Nothing flashy on the outside. Just so you feel it the whole time.”

I started to shake my head. Samantha simply opened her jacket.

Underneath she was wearing black lace lingerie that left almost nothing to the imagination. She didn’t say a word at first. She just let me look, then spoke quietly.

“This is what I’m wearing for you. Now put those on.”

I caved.

I changed while she watched, then pulled my regular shorts and hoodie over the top. The soft fabric underneath felt foreign against my skin. Samantha gave a small, satisfied nod, grabbed her keys, and we headed out to the car.

She kept one hand on my thigh the entire drive, her thumb moving in slow circles. She didn’t need to say much more. The message was already clear.

We stepped into the booth and the door clicked shut behind us. Samantha shrugged off her jacket without hesitation. I followed her lead, still nervous, the soft fabric under my shorts and hoodie suddenly feeling much more noticeable.

She turned to me, calm and steady.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “You’re not doing this alone.”

We waited. The booth stayed quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the soft shift of fabric as Samantha adjusted her stance. Then a soft thud came from the other side of the wall, followed by the slow appearance of a cock through the hole.

Samantha’s hand settled on the back of my neck, guiding me forward without force but with clear intent.

“Go on,” she murmured. “Just like we talked about.”

I leaned in. She kept her hand there as I took the cock into my mouth, the anonymous weight of it unfamiliar and heavy on my tongue. Beside me, Samantha’s free hand slipped between her own legs, fingers moving slowly while she watched. Her breathing stayed even, controlled, the same quiet dominance she’d had since we left the house.

She didn’t rush me. She simply stayed close, guiding when needed, touching herself as I worked, the booth filled with the soft sounds of what we were doing.

The first guy finished in my mouth with a low grunt from the other side of the wall. I started to pull back, but Samantha’s hand tightened slightly on the back of my neck.

“Give it to me,” she said, voice low and steady.

I turned to her. She leaned in and kissed me, slow and deliberate, taking the cum from my tongue as her fingers kept moving between her legs. The kiss lasted longer than I expected, her tongue sweeping through my mouth until she’d taken all of it.

We barely had time to separate before another cock pushed through the hole. Samantha shifted without hesitation, dropping to her knees in front of it. She looked back at me once, eyes calm and commanding, then took him into her mouth.

I stayed where I was, watching. The way she worked him was practiced and unhurried, one hand braced against the wall, the other still between her own thighs. The soft wet sounds filled the booth. It was hotter than I expected...seeing her like that, fully in control even while she was the one on her knees.

That guy finished in her mouth with a muffled groan from the other side. Samantha held him there a moment longer, then slowly pulled off. She turned to me, still on her knees, and grabbed the back of my head. Her fingers tightened just enough to tilt my face upward.

She leaned in and parted her lips, letting the cum drop from her mouth straight into mine. Thick and warm, it spilled across my tongue as she watched. I swallowed what I could while the rest trickled from the corner of my mouth. My cock strained hard against the soft fabric under my shorts, painfully so, every pulse made worse by the quiet control in her eyes.

Samantha wiped her thumb across my lower lip, then pressed it between my teeth.

“Good,” she said softly.

A third cock pushed through the hole...thicker and longer than the first two. I felt a surge of eagerness and started to lean in, ready to take it, when I heard Samantha’s sharp intake of breath beside me.

“What?” I asked, glancing over.

Her eyes were a little wide. She stared at the base of the cock where the hole was just big enough to show the skin above it. A skull and flames tattoo sat clearly visible.

“I recognize that tattoo,” she whispered. “That’s Garrett.”

We both went still. The only sound in the booth was our breathing and the low, impatient grunt that came from the other side of the wall a second later.

Samantha’s eyes took on an evil glint. Before I could say anything she forced my head forward, pushing me onto Garrett’s thick cock. I opened for him on instinct, the heavy weight of him stretching my mouth as she held me there.

While I sucked she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and started taking photos. The soft click of the camera mixed with the wet sounds of my mouth working him. Holy shit, this was insane...but the hard strain of my cock made it obvious how turned on I was.

Garrett came hard, flooding my mouth with more cum than I thought possible. It spilled past my lips and dribbled down my chin while Samantha kept the phone steady, capturing every second.

The moment he pulled back she was on me. She kissed me hard, tasting him on my tongue, and shoved a hand down the front of my shorts. She freed my cock, yanked her panties aside, and sank down onto me right there in the booth, riding me fast as heavy.

Samantha kept riding me as I came, not slowing down even when the overstimulation started to edge into pain. She only stopped once my cock had softened completely inside her, then climbed off with a satisfied look.

It was clear no one else was coming to the hole. We cleaned up as best we could and got dressed in a hurried, messy way.

We made it back to the car in silence. Once the doors shut, Samantha let out a low breath and glanced over at me.

“Fuck, that was hot,” she said. “Wouldn’t have called that in a million years.”

I nodded, still catching my breath. “Yeah. Same.”

She unlocked her phone and scrolled through the photos she’d taken. “You know… I could send these to Garrett. He has to know it wasn’t just women in those booths.”

I stared at the screen for a moment, the images of me on my knees with his cock in my mouth still clear in my head. After a few seconds I looked at her and said, “Yes.”

Samantha leaned across the console, kissed me hard, and whispered, “I fucking love you.” Then she turned back to her phone and started typing.

We drove home, cleaned up properly, and went out for dinner like nothing unusual had happened. Midway through the meal her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, a slow smile spreading across her face, then turned it toward me.

Garrett had replied. He was down...but he had a few requests.

All characters are above the age of 18.

Samantha had been pushing me to explore the bi side of myself for months. Not gently. She brought it up the way she brought up most things she wanted calm, direct, and already decided.

“There’s a gloryhole booth on the edge of town,” she said one night, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Anonymous. Discreet. No faces, no names. Just a wall. I think it would be a good way for you to try it without everything feeling so… personal.”

I hesitated, which she clearly expected.

Later, as we were getting ready to leave, she stopped me in the bedroom.

“I want you wearing something underneath,” she said, holding up a pair of soft, feminine briefs and a thin, fitted tank. “Under your shorts and hoodie. Nothing flashy on the outside. Just so you feel it the whole time.”

I started to shake my head. Samantha simply opened her jacket.

Underneath she was wearing black lace lingerie that left almost nothing to the imagination. She didn’t say a word at first. She just let me look, then spoke quietly.

“This is what I’m wearing for you. Now put those on.”

I caved.

I changed while she watched, then pulled my regular shorts and hoodie over the top. The soft fabric underneath felt foreign against my skin. Samantha gave a small, satisfied nod, grabbed her keys, and we headed out to the car.

She kept one hand on my thigh the entire drive, her thumb moving in slow circles. She didn’t need to say much more. The message was already clear.

We stepped into the booth and the door clicked shut behind us. Samantha shrugged off her jacket without hesitation. I followed her lead, still nervous, the soft fabric under my shorts and hoodie suddenly feeling much more noticeable.

She turned to me, calm and steady.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “You’re not doing this alone.”

We waited. The booth stayed quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the soft shift of fabric as Samantha adjusted her stance. Then a soft thud came from the other side of the wall, followed by the slow appearance of a cock through the hole.

Samantha’s hand settled on the back of my neck, guiding me forward without force but with clear intent.

“Go on,” she murmured. “Just like we talked about.”

I leaned in. She kept her hand there as I took the cock into my mouth, the anonymous weight of it unfamiliar and heavy on my tongue. Beside me, Samantha’s free hand slipped between her own legs, fingers moving slowly while she watched. Her breathing stayed even, controlled, the same quiet dominance she’d had since we left the house.

She didn’t rush me. She simply stayed close, guiding when needed, touching herself as I worked, the booth filled with the soft sounds of what we were doing.

The first guy finished in my mouth with a low grunt from the other side of the wall. I started to pull back, but Samantha’s hand tightened slightly on the back of my neck.

“Give it to me,” she said, voice low and steady.

I turned to her. She leaned in and kissed me, slow and deliberate, taking the cum from my tongue as her fingers kept moving between her legs. The kiss lasted longer than I expected, her tongue sweeping through my mouth until she’d taken all of it.

We barely had time to separate before another cock pushed through the hole. Samantha shifted without hesitation, dropping to her knees in front of it. She looked back at me once, eyes calm and commanding, then took him into her mouth.

I stayed where I was, watching. The way she worked him was practiced and unhurried, one hand braced against the wall, the other still between her own thighs. The soft wet sounds filled the booth. It was hotter than I expected...seeing her like that, fully in control even while she was the one on her knees.

That guy finished in her mouth with a muffled groan from the other side. Samantha held him there a moment longer, then slowly pulled off. She turned to me, still on her knees, and grabbed the back of my head. Her fingers tightened just enough to tilt my face upward.

She leaned in and parted her lips, letting the cum drop from her mouth straight into mine. Thick and warm, it spilled across my tongue as she watched. I swallowed what I could while the rest trickled from the corner of my mouth. My cock strained hard against the soft fabric under my shorts, painfully so, every pulse made worse by the quiet control in her eyes.

Samantha wiped her thumb across my lower lip, then pressed it between my teeth.

“Good,” she said softly.

A third cock pushed through the hole...thicker and longer than the first two. I felt a surge of eagerness and started to lean in, ready to take it, when I heard Samantha’s sharp intake of breath beside me.

“What?” I asked, glancing over.

Her eyes were a little wide. She stared at the base of the cock where the hole was just big enough to show the skin above it. A skull and flames tattoo sat clearly visible.

“I recognize that tattoo,” she whispered. “That’s Garrett.”

We both went still. The only sound in the booth was our breathing and the low, impatient grunt that came from the other side of the wall a second later.

Samantha’s eyes took on an evil glint. Before I could say anything she forced my head forward, pushing me onto Garrett’s thick cock. I opened for him on instinct, the heavy weight of him stretching my mouth as she held me there.

While I sucked she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and started taking photos. The soft click of the camera mixed with the wet sounds of my mouth working him. Holy shit, this was insane...but the hard strain of my cock made it obvious how turned on I was.

Garrett came hard, flooding my mouth with more cum than I thought possible. It spilled past my lips and dribbled down my chin while Samantha kept the phone steady, capturing every second.

The moment he pulled back she was on me. She kissed me hard, tasting him on my tongue, and shoved a hand down the front of my shorts. She freed my cock, yanked her panties aside, and sank down onto me right there in the booth, riding me fast as heavy.

Samantha kept riding me as I came, not slowing down even when the overstimulation started to edge into pain. She only stopped once my cock had softened completely inside her, then climbed off with a satisfied look.

It was clear no one else was coming to the hole. We cleaned up as best we could and got dressed in a hurried, messy way.

We made it back to the car in silence. Once the doors shut, Samantha let out a low breath and glanced over at me.

“Fuck, that was hot,” she said. “Wouldn’t have called that in a million years.”

I nodded, still catching my breath. “Yeah. Same.”

She unlocked her phone and scrolled through the photos she’d taken. “You know… I could send these to Garrett. He has to know it wasn’t just women in those booths.”

I stared at the screen for a moment, the images of me on my knees with his cock in my mouth still clear in my head. After a few seconds I looked at her and said, “Yes.”

Samantha leaned across the console, kissed me hard, and whispered, “I fucking love you.” Then she turned back to her phone and started typing.

We drove home, cleaned up properly, and went out for dinner like nothing unusual had happened. Midway through the meal her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, a slow smile spreading across her face, then turned it toward me.

Garrett had replied. He was down...but he had a few requests.

All characters are above the age of 18.

I’d been Cheryl’s assistant for a little over a year.

The job paid well, the travel was nice, and most of the time it was easy work. The downside was the downtime. When she decided to take a three month vacation...rich people shit...most of my days turned into sitting around while she drank by the pool and made vague plans she never followed through on.

That night she was already a few glasses deep, going on one of her tangents about Clifton picking up another project and how she was “so done dealing with his shit.” Eventually she waved a hand at me and told me I had the night off. I wasn’t about to argue.

Free nights were rare. The job didn’t leave much room for an actual relationship, so I settled for hookups when I could get them. I opened Grindr while I was still walking back to my room.

Angelo messaged first. Cute profile, solid build, the kind of guy who looked like he spent his weekends outside. Tan, a little rough around the edges, almost lumberjack sexy. We traded a few messages. Chemistry was easy. He was direct.

Angelo: You happen to have any panties? Got a bit of a fetish.

I stared at the message for a second.

Fuck.

I hadn’t packed anything like that. I almost said no, then thought about Cheryl’s drawers. She had more lingerie than any one person needed. She wouldn’t miss one pair.

Me: Yeah. Meet me at my room in 30.

I waited until the hallway was quiet, then slipped into her room. The guilt sat right there in my chest the whole time I was digging through her things, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I found a cute red pair...soft, delicate, clearly expensive...and shoved them in my pocket.

Back in my own room I locked the door, stripped, and got ready. The red panties looked ridiculous and hot at the same time once I had them on. I checked myself in the mirror, heart already picking up speed, and waited for the knock.

The knock came right on time.

I opened the door. Angelo stood there in a fitted black shirt, looking even better than his pictures. His eyes went straight down my body...over the soft red panties, the bare chest, the obvious tent already forming...and a slow grin spread across his face.

“You look so sexy.”

I felt my face heat up. “Thanks.”

He stepped inside, shut the door, and kissed me hard. It wasn’t gentle. His hands were already on my waist, then lower, gripping my ass through the thin fabric while his tongue pushed into my mouth. I kissed back just as hungry. It had been too long.

We barely made it to the bed. He turned me around, bent me over the edge, and hooked his fingers in the waistband of the red panties, pulling them down just far enough. I heard the sound of his belt, then the thick head of his cock pressing against me. He pushed in without much warning and started fucking me hard right away...deep, steady strokes that made the bedframe creak.

I was gripping the sheets, moaning into the mattress, when we both heard the soft electronic beep of the door lock.

The door opened.

Cheryl’s voice came first, distracted and a little tipsy.

“Chet, we need to book a wine tasting tomorrow...”

She stopped cold.

I froze with Angelo still buried inside me, the red panties stretched around my thighs, my face burning hotter than it ever had in my life.

Cheryl stepped all the way in and closed the door behind her. She didn’t look shocked. She looked interested.

“Are those my panties?”

My face went nuclear. I could barely get the words out.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, I didn’t...”

“Shut up.”

Angelo started to pull out of me. Cheryl’s eyes snapped to him.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, I thought...”

“Don’t think,” she said. “You still want to fuck him, right?”

He hesitated only a second, then nodded.

Cheryl reached up, pulled off the light cover up she’d been wearing over her bathing suit, and tossed it aside. Underneath she had on a simple dark one piece. She walked over to the small couch across from the bed, sat down, and crossed her legs like she was about to watch a show.

“Then continue,” she said calmly. “You don’t mind?”

Angelo glanced at me, then back at her, and gave a small shrug.

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“Okay then.”

He pushed back into me in one smooth thrust and started fucking me again...harder this time, like having an audience only made him more into it. I gripped the sheets, face burning, while Cheryl sat there watching every stroke with an unreadable little smile.

Cheryl’s hand slipped between her legs while she watched. She didn’t even try to hide it. She just started rubbing herself slowly through the fabric of her bathing suit, eyes locked on where Angelo was thrusting into me.

For some reason that made it so much hotter.

“He’s naughty, isn’t he?” she said, almost conversational.

Angelo gave a low laugh and drove in deeper. “Yeah. Real naughty. Stealing your panties just to get fucked in them.”

I moaned into the sheets. My face was on fire, but my cock was harder than it had been in months. Every time I glanced over and saw her touching herself while her hired help got railed in her stolen lingerie, something twisted low in my stomach and made me push back onto Angelo’s cock harder.

I shouldn’t have been into this. I should’ve been mortified beyond recovery. Instead I was dripping onto the bed and clenching around him every time Cheryl spoke.

“Look at him take it,” she murmured, fingers moving faster. “Bet he’s been wanting someone to catch him like this I bet. Little slut in borrowed panties.”

Angelo gripped my hips tighter. “You like that she’s watching, don’t you?”

I couldn’t answer. I just moaned again, louder this time, and hated how true it was. The embarrassment and the heat were tangled so tight I couldn’t tell them apart anymore. All I knew was that I didn’t want him to stop.

Cheryl’s voice cut through the sound of skin on skin.

“Punish that little sissy bitch for stealing my panties.”

Angelo didn’t need to be told twice. His hands tightened hard on my hips and he started fucking me properly...rough, deep strokes that made the bed slam against the wall. Every thrust forced a broken sound out of me. The soft red panties were still stretched around my thighs, the only thing left of the plan I’d had for a normal hookup.

“You heard her,” he growled, driving into me harder. “Stealing her panties just so you could get fucked in them like a little bitch. This is what you get.”

I gripped the sheets and took it, cock bouncing and leaking underneath me with every rough snap of his hips. Cheryl kept touching herself on the couch, watching the whole thing with that same half lidded, hungry look. The more he punished me, the more I pushed back to meet him. I hated how much I was into it...how the shame of getting caught, the stolen panties, and my boss calling me a sissy bitch while she played with herself only made me harder.

Angelo leaned over my back, still pounding into me, and spoke right against my ear.

“Say thank you for the punishment.”

I could barely get the words out between thrusts.

“Th thank you...”

Cheryl let out a soft, satisfied breath from the couch.

“Good boy.”

Angelo’s rhythm started to break.

“Fuck...I’m about to cum.”

He pulled out of me suddenly, stroked himself twice, and came hard across my ass, thick ropes landing on my skin and the stretched red panties still around my thighs. I stayed bent over the bed, breathing hard, cock still painfully hard and untouched underneath me.

Angelo stepped back, catching his breath. Cheryl finally stood up from the couch, still composed even though her bathing suit was damp between her legs.

“Thank you,” she said smoothly. “What was your name?”

“Angelo.”

“Cheryl.” She gave him a small, polite smile like they were meeting at a dinner party instead of over her assistant’s used body. “If you’re ever interested in fucking a woman, give me a call.”

He glanced at me still face down and messy on the bed, then back at her, and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He fixed his clothes, gave me one last look, and left. The door clicked shut.

Silence settled over the room.

Cheryl walked closer and looked down at me...red panties half off, cum cooling on my ass, cock still hard and leaking onto the sheets.

“What to do with you…” she said quietly.

All characters are above the age of 18.

The backyard was quiet except for the low crackle of the fire and the occasional pop of a pine log. Gabriel sat across from me in one of the cheap folding chairs, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, the orange glow painting the sharp lines of his jaw. I was in my usual summer clothes...baggy hoodie and shorts...but under them the soft feeling of the pink panties I’d put on earlier still clung to my skin.

We’d been talking for an hour already, the kind of aimless shit you only get away with when the night’s warm and no one has anywhere better to be.

“Vegas,” Gabriel said, tipping the bottle toward the flames. “Strip clubs, poker tables, maybe get stupid on the Strip for a weekend. What about you?”

“Dollywood.”

He snorted so hard beer almost came out his nose. “You so gay.”

I just smiled and shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

The conversation drifted the way it always did...favorite foods next. He went on about medium rare steaks and those ridiculous loaded nachos from the sports bar downtown. I admitted I still craved those ridiculously sweet cinnamon rolls from the bakery two towns over, the ones that left sugar on your lips for hours. He rolled his eyes but didn’t push it.

Then we talked about if we won the lottery.

Gabriel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bright. “Winning ticket? Easy. Couple of fun cars...something loud and stupid...and a big ass mansion with a pool. Maybe a theater room. Live like a king.”

I stared into the fire a little longer than I needed to. “I’d want a walk in closet. Big enough for all my outfits. Floor to ceiling shelves, full length mirrors, the works.”

He laughed, a real one this time, the kind that showed he’d known me long enough not to be shocked. “Of course you would, Princess.”

The nickname landed soft. He only used it when we were alone like this.

Eventually the beers loosened everything else. Sexual fantasies came up the way they always seemed to after midnight.

“Threesome,” Gabriel said without hesitation. “Two girls, or me and another guy with one. Doesn’t even matter. Just… options.”

I made a face. “How boring.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, smartass. What’s yours then?”

I felt the heat crawl up my neck. The panties suddenly felt tighter. I took a long drink and stared at the coals.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Come on. What is it?”

“You can’t judge me.”

“Have I ever?”

The silence stretched. A log shifted and sent a shower of sparks upward. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.

Finally I said it, voice low enough that the fire almost swallowed the words.

“I want to be caught wearing my girl clothes. Tied up. And… well fucked. Like a rape fantasy. Someone finding me like that and just taking what they want.”

Gabriel didn’t laugh this time. He just looked at me across the flames, bottle forgotten in his hand, the night suddenly a lot quieter than it had been a minute ago.

The silence after I said it stretched just long enough to make my stomach twist. Gabriel’s eyes stayed on me across the fire, the orange light catching the sharp line of his jaw.

“Whoa,” he said finally, voice low. “That’s intense.”

I let out a short breath and shrugged, trying to play it off even though my pulse was hammering under the soft lace I still had on. “Yeah… but you asked.”

He stared a second longer, then shook his head with a rough little laugh. “Fuck. I wish my ex had that fantasy.”

The honest way he said it cracked something in me. I laughed...actual, surprised laughter that startled a few sparks up from the fire. It felt good, the tension breaking just enough that I could breathe again.

Gabriel’s mouth curved into that crooked half smile of his, the one that always made him look a little dangerous when the night got late. He took another pull from his beer, still watching me over the rim of the bottle.

“I’m serious,” he added, quieter now. “She never wanted anything like that. Always had to be soft and careful. You, though…” His eyes flicked down my body for half a second, like he was already picturing the girl clothes under the baggy hoodie. “You just come out with the real shit.”

I shifted in the chair, feeling the pink panties tug against my skin. The night air suddenly felt warmer.

I laughed again, softer this time, and shook my head. “Stop looking at me like that. You’ve never been interested before.”

Gabriel didn’t look away. The firelight caught the dark of his eyes and made them look hungrier than I’d ever seen them. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve never seen you in full girl mode.”

My pulse jumped. “You never asked.”

He tilted his head. “What… am I missing something?”

The question hung between us. For a second I just stared back at him. Then I stood up just enough, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts, and pushed them down a few inches.

Gabriel’s beer bottle froze halfway to his mouth.

I held still, letting him see, heart hammering while the fire crackled between us.

Gabriel’s eyes stayed locked lower. His voice came out rougher than usual.

“That’s not fair. You know I have an underwear fetish.”

I didn’t sit back down. I just stood there in front of him, shorts around my ankles, letting him look.

He set the beer bottle down slowly. “Turn around.”

I did.

Gabriel’s gaze dropped. He was quiet for a second, then he let out a low breath. “Fuck… you’ve got a nice ass in those.”

I glanced back over my shoulder, still standing there for a moment longer.

“Thank you. I work really hard.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched like he almost smiled, but his eyes stayed lower. I finally stepped out of the shorts completely, kicked them aside, and sat back down in the chair. The night air felt cooler now that I wasn’t wearing them.

He picked up his beer again, took a slow drink, then looked at me across the fire.

“Hypothetically,” he said, voice quieter, “tell me how it would work.”

I shifted in the chair, suddenly very aware of how little I was wearing. The fire popped. Gabriel waited.

“Hypothetically…” I started, then had to clear my throat. “I’d be dressed in something… particularly slutty. Like, the kind of outfit that makes it obvious what I am the second someone walks in.”

My face felt hot. I looked at the flames instead of him for a second.

“The ‘person’ would come in. Catch me. Throw me around a little.” I swallowed. “I’d… leave some stuff out. Rope, cuffs, whatever. So it’s there. And I’d resist. Fight it. Beg them to stop even though…”

I trailed off. My voice had gotten quieter. Between my legs I could feel myself getting a little hard just saying it out loud. I crossed my arms, trying to play it off, but the heat in my face wasn’t only from the fire.

Gabriel didn’t say anything right away. He just watched me across the fire, the beer bottle forgotten in his hand again.

I kept my eyes on the flames, face still burning. My voice had gone quieter than I meant it to.

“I’d fight,” I added, almost under my breath. “Not… not enough to actually stop it. Just enough so it feels real. Like I don’t have a choice.”

I shifted in the chair, face still hot, and gave a small shrug.

“That’s… kind of how it would go,” I said, voice quieter than before. “The details would be left up to the other party. I’d just… do whatever.”

I couldn’t look at him while I said it. Between my legs I was already a little hard just from talking about it, and the thin fabric did nothing to hide it.

Gabriel stared at me across the fire for a long second. Then he let out a rough breath.

“Fuck… that’s hot.”

I met his eyes across the fire.

“It is.”

My gaze dropped for half a second and I saw the clear outline of him straining against his jeans. Gabriel didn’t try to hide it. He just looked at me, voice low and steady.

“I’ve never fucked a guy… but under those circumstances, I could.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I swallowed, suddenly very aware of how little I was still wearing.

“I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”

Gabriel held my stare. “If it’s awkward, we never talk about it again.”

I took a breath and nodded once.

“Let’s work out the details then.”

Gabriel’s answer was immediate. “Okay.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the firelight cutting across his face. “Tomorrow. Come over to my house at seven.”

I swallowed. “What kind of underwear do you like?”

Gabriel didn’t hesitate. “Thongs. Red thongs.”

I felt my face heat again, but I kept going. We needed the rest of it clear.

“Safeword,” I said. “We pick one. But… anything else is on the table. If you don’t show up, or if you change your mind...no harm, no foul. We never mention it again.”

Gabriel held my eyes across the flames. “Understood.”

Gabriel stayed leaned forward, studying me across the fire.

“No limits?” he asked.

I nodded once. “Anything.”

He was quiet a second. “Gagging you?”

“Anything.”

“Leaving marks?”

My pulse kicked harder under my skin. I kept my voice steady even though my face was still hot. “Anything.”

Gabriel’s eyes stayed on mine. He didn’t smile. He just took it in, like he was filing every answer away.

“Lottery,” I said. “That’s the safeword.”

Gabriel gave a single nod. “Lottery.”

I stood and reached for my shorts. His voice stopped me.

“Keep them off.”

I looked at him for a second, then let the shorts drop back to the ground. “Okay.”

We stayed by the fire the rest of the night like nothing had changed...talking about dumb shit, finishing the last of the beers, the usual. But every time I glanced over, his eyes were on me.

The next day came too fast.

I was nervous the entire time. I prepped carefully...red thong, a short mini skirt that barely covered anything in the back, and a matching red bralette. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, then laid the rope and cuffs out neatly on the dresser where they’d be easy to reach.

Around 6:50 I was already worked up. I grabbed the lube, bent over a little, and spent a few minutes working myself open, slow and deliberate, just enough to take the edge off the anticipation. At 6:55 I left the front door unlocked and went into my room to fold laundry like nothing was about to happen.

I don’t know exactly what time it was when it started.

Strong arms suddenly locked around me from behind. My wrists were yanked back and pinned hard against the small of my back before I could even turn around.

I barely had time to react before he forced me forward. My chest hit the edge of the dresser hard enough to knock the breath out of me. The rope was already in his hands...he must have grabbed it the second he walked in.

He wrenched my wrists higher and started wrapping the rope tight, looping it fast and sure around both wrists, then cinching it so I couldn’t pull free. The rough fibers bit into my skin.

“Fucking knew you were a slut” he muttered against the side of my neck, voice rough. “All dressed up like this, door wide open… you really wanted someone to walk in and take you, didn’t you?”

I tried to twist away. He just shoved me harder against the dresser and kept tying, yanking the knots tighter until my shoulders burned.

“Stay still,” he ordered, low and sharp. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”

The last knot locked into place. My arms were completely useless behind my back. He grabbed a fistful of my ponytail and pulled my head back so I had no choice but to stare at our reflection in the mirror.

“There. That’s better.”

He kept my head pulled back by the ponytail, forcing me to watch us in the mirror. His other hand slid down and pushed the tiny skirt up over my hips.

“Look at you,” he said, voice low but steady. “All tied up already.”

I twisted against the rope. “Gabriel...stop. Let me go.”

“Quiet.” He gave my ponytail a light tug. “You’re the one who left the door unlocked. You’re the one who has all this slutty shit.”

His hand settled on my ass, squeezing once through the thong. I jerked forward against the dresser.

“Don’t... I’m serious, untie me.”

“No.” His mouth was close to my ear now. “You’re going to take it. That’s what you wanted, remember?”

I pulled harder at the bindings, shoulders straining. “I changed my mind. Cut it out.”

He didn’t untie me.

Instead he pressed closer, pinning me harder against the dresser so I couldn’t twist away. His hand stayed on my ass, squeezing again through the thin fabric of the thong.

“You didn’t change your mind,” he said, voice still low and even. “You left everything out for me. Rope, cuffs, door unlocked… you wanted this.”

I pulled at the rope again, wrists burning a little. “Gabriel, I’m serious...stop.”

“No.” He gave my ponytail another light tug, just enough to tilt my head back. “You’re going to stay right here and take it. That’s the deal.”

I tried to shove back with my shoulder. He just shifted his weight and kept me locked in place, the edge of the dresser digging into my hips.

“Please,” I said, quieter now, still testing the knots. “Don’t.”

His hand slid lower, fingers brushing along the edge of the thong. “Too late for that.”

His fingers hooked under the side of the thong and tugged it to the side, exposing me. I jerked hard against the rope.

“Gabriel...don’t. I’m not kidding.”

“I know you’re not.” He kept the fabric pulled aside with one hand and used the other to keep my ponytail tight. “That’s why it’s good.”

I tried to close my legs. He just pushed a knee between them from behind, forcing them open again, and held me there against the dresser.

“Stop fighting,” he said, calm but firm. “You’re already tied. You’re already open. You’re not getting out of this.”

I pulled at the rope again, breathing hard, still trying to twist away even though the knots weren’t giving.

“Please… just untie me.”

He didn’t. He only pressed closer, keeping me pinned exactly where he wanted me.

I heard the sound of his belt, then the soft drag of fabric as he pushed his jeans down just enough. A moment later I felt the blunt press of him against me, already hard, lined up where the thong was pulled aside.

“Gabriel...wait...”

He pushed in anyway, slow but steady, forcing the air out of my lungs as he filled me. My wrists strained hard against the rope.

“Fuck… stop,” I managed, voice tight.

“No.” His hand stayed fisted in my ponytail, holding my head back so I had to watch us in the mirror. “You’re taking it.”

He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, breathing hard against the side of my neck, letting me feel every inch. Then he pulled back and thrust in again, a little deeper this time.

I tried to twist away. The dresser edge dug into my hips. The rope held.

“Please…”

He kept a steady pace, hips snapping forward, the dresser creaking under us with every thrust. His grip on my ponytail never loosened.

“Gabriel...slow down...”

“No.” He drove in harder, forcing a sharp breath out of me. “You wanted this. You’re getting it.”

I pulled at the rope again, wrists burning, but the knots held. Every time I tried to shift or close my legs he just used his knee to keep me open and pinned.

“It hurts,” I said, voice strained.

“I know.” He didn’t stop. His free hand slid around and gripped my hip, pulling me back onto him with every thrust. “You’re still taking it.”

I could see us in the mirror...my arms bound tight behind my back, skirt shoved up, him buried deep and not giving me any room to move. The only thing I could do was stay there and feel every stroke.

He didn’t ease up.

Instead he drove into me harder, the dresser slamming against the wall with every thrust. His fist tightened in my ponytail and yanked my head back further, forcing a sharp sound out of my throat.

“Gabriel...fuck...stop...”

“No.” He landed an open handed spank on my ass, hard enough to sting, then another right after it. “You don’t get to stop this.”

I jerked against the rope, shoulders burning. He just planted his free hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me down flatter against the dresser, pinning me harder while he kept pounding into me.

“Please...slower...”

He answered with another sharp spank and a deeper thrust that knocked the breath out of me. “Take it. That’s what you’re here for.”

My wrists twisted uselessly in the bindings. Every rough snap of his hips forced me forward against the wood, the sting from his hand still burning across my ass as he used me without any real restraint.

A broken moan slipped out of me before I could stop it.

He heard it. His next thrust hit deeper, and another moan followed, louder this time. My arms strained against the rope, but the fight in my voice was starting to crack.

“Gabriel… fuck...”

“There it is.” He spanked me again, harder, and kept the rough pace, using my ponytail to pull me back onto every stroke. “You’re breaking already.”

I tried to shake my head, still pulling at the bindings, but another moan tore out of me when he drove in particularly deep. My legs were trembling. The resistance was still there in my words, but my body was starting to give.

“Don’t...please...”

Another moan broke out of me as he thrust in hard.

“Please… I don’t want to be a slut...”

He spanked me again, the sharp sting cutting through the heat. “Too late for that.”

I pulled at the rope, voice cracking. “I’m not...fuck...I’m not a slut, Gabriel, please...”

“You are right now.” He yanked my ponytail, forcing my back to arch, and drove into me deeper. “Dressed like one. Tied up like one. Taking it like one.”

A shaky moan spilled out of me. I shook my head, still trying to twist away even as my body kept reacting.

“Don’t say that...please...I’m not...”

He just kept fucking me through the protests, rough and steady, making sure every word came out broken between the sounds I couldn’t hold back.

Something in me finally gave.

The protests turned into broken moans, then into actual words I couldn’t stop.

“Fuck...please...harder...”

I started pushing back onto him, slamming my hips back to meet every thrust, the rope biting into my wrists as I used what little leverage I had.

“Break me,” I begged, voice raw. “Please...just break me. I’m nothing but a fuck toy...use me...”

Gabriel growled and gave me exactly that, pounding into me harder, the dresser slamming against the wall. I kept pushing back, chasing every stroke.

“I’m just a slut...your fuck toy...please don’t stop...break me...”

I was completely gone now, moaning and begging, slamming myself back onto his cock as hard as I could while the rope held my arms tight behind my back.

His rhythm turned sharp and uneven. He drove into me hard a few more times, then groaned against my ear.

“I’m about to cum...”

I immediately pushed back harder, desperate.

“Please...cum on my useless face. Please. I want it...I want to eat it. Make me take it. I’m just a fuck toy, please paint my face, let me taste it...”

I kept begging, voice cracked and needy, slamming myself back onto him as much as the rope would allow, waiting for him to pull out and give me exactly what I was asking for.

He pulled out fast, spun me around by the ponytail, and came across my face in thick ropes. I opened my mouth immediately, trying to catch every drop I could, tongue out, taking what landed on my lips and chin without hesitation. I fucking came right there, Jesus Christ…..

Gabriel stared down at me, breathing hard.

“Holy shit.”

He reached behind me and started untying the rope, fingers working the knots loose until my arms finally dropped free. My shoulders ached. I stayed on my knees in front of him, face messy.

He shook his head slowly. “That was way hotter than I expected. I didn’t think you’d actually say those things.”

I looked up at him, still licking what I could reach. “I told you.”

The desperation hit right after. I leaned in closer.

“Let me clean you. On my knees. Please.”

Gabriel didn’t argue. He just nodded once and let me.

I leaned in and took him into my mouth without another word, cleaning every inch with slow, thorough strokes of my tongue. I licked along the shaft, under the head, tasting both of us, making sure nothing was left.

Gabriel’s hand rested lightly in my hair...not pulling this time, just holding. He watched me the whole time, still catching his breath.

When I finally pulled off, I stayed on my knees and looked up at him, face still messy, lips wet.

He let out a rough exhale. “Jesus, Princess…”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then immediately went back to licking the last traces off him, slower now, almost careful.

Neither of us said anything else for a minute. The only sounds were the quiet wet noise of my tongue and both of us still breathing hard.

I stayed on my knees a moment longer, then looked up at him.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Gabriel’s hand was still in my hair. He gave a short, rough laugh.

“I think you know the answer.”

I hesitated, then asked the next part quietly.

“Want to do it again another time?”

Gabriel’s mouth curved into that familiar half smile.

“Next weekend? I’ve got some ideas.”

All characters are above the age of 18.

The backyard was quiet except for the low crackle of the fire and the occasional pop of a pine log. Gabriel sat across from me in one of the cheap folding chairs, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, the orange glow painting the sharp lines of his jaw. I was in my usual summer clothes...baggy hoodie and shorts...but under them the soft feeling of the pink panties I’d put on earlier still clung to my skin.

We’d been talking for an hour already, the kind of aimless shit you only get away with when the night’s warm and no one has anywhere better to be.

“Vegas,” Gabriel said, tipping the bottle toward the flames. “Strip clubs, poker tables, maybe get stupid on the Strip for a weekend. What about you?”

“Dollywood.”

He snorted so hard beer almost came out his nose. “You so gay.”

I just smiled and shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

The conversation drifted the way it always did...favorite foods next. He went on about medium rare steaks and those ridiculous loaded nachos from the sports bar downtown. I admitted I still craved those ridiculously sweet cinnamon rolls from the bakery two towns over, the ones that left sugar on your lips for hours. He rolled his eyes but didn’t push it.

Then we talked about if we won the lottery.

Gabriel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bright. “Winning ticket? Easy. Couple of fun cars...something loud and stupid...and a big ass mansion with a pool. Maybe a theater room. Live like a king.”

I stared into the fire a little longer than I needed to. “I’d want a walk in closet. Big enough for all my outfits. Floor to ceiling shelves, full length mirrors, the works.”

He laughed, a real one this time, the kind that showed he’d known me long enough not to be shocked. “Of course you would, Princess.”

The nickname landed soft. He only used it when we were alone like this.

Eventually the beers loosened everything else. Sexual fantasies came up the way they always seemed to after midnight.

“Threesome,” Gabriel said without hesitation. “Two girls, or me and another guy with one. Doesn’t even matter. Just… options.”

I made a face. “How boring.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, smartass. What’s yours then?”

I felt the heat crawl up my neck. The panties suddenly felt tighter. I took a long drink and stared at the coals.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Come on. What is it?”

“You can’t judge me.”

“Have I ever?”

The silence stretched. A log shifted and sent a shower of sparks upward. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time.

Finally I said it, voice low enough that the fire almost swallowed the words.

“I want to be caught wearing my girl clothes. Tied up. And… well fucked. Like a rape fantasy. Someone finding me like that and just taking what they want.”

Gabriel didn’t laugh this time. He just looked at me across the flames, bottle forgotten in his hand, the night suddenly a lot quieter than it had been a minute ago.

The silence after I said it stretched just long enough to make my stomach twist. Gabriel’s eyes stayed on me across the fire, the orange light catching the sharp line of his jaw.

“Whoa,” he said finally, voice low. “That’s intense.”

I let out a short breath and shrugged, trying to play it off even though my pulse was hammering under the soft lace I still had on. “Yeah… but you asked.”

He stared a second longer, then shook his head with a rough little laugh. “Fuck. I wish my ex had that fantasy.”

The honest way he said it cracked something in me. I laughed...actual, surprised laughter that startled a few sparks up from the fire. It felt good, the tension breaking just enough that I could breathe again.

Gabriel’s mouth curved into that crooked half smile of his, the one that always made him look a little dangerous when the night got late. He took another pull from his beer, still watching me over the rim of the bottle.

“I’m serious,” he added, quieter now. “She never wanted anything like that. Always had to be soft and careful. You, though…” His eyes flicked down my body for half a second, like he was already picturing the girl clothes under the baggy hoodie. “You just come out with the real shit.”

I shifted in the chair, feeling the pink panties tug against my skin. The night air suddenly felt warmer.

I laughed again, softer this time, and shook my head. “Stop looking at me like that. You’ve never been interested before.”

Gabriel didn’t look away. The firelight caught the dark of his eyes and made them look hungrier than I’d ever seen them. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve never seen you in full girl mode.”

My pulse jumped. “You never asked.”

He tilted his head. “What… am I missing something?”

The question hung between us. For a second I just stared back at him. Then I stood up just enough, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts, and pushed them down a few inches.

Gabriel’s beer bottle froze halfway to his mouth.

I held still, letting him see, heart hammering while the fire crackled between us.

Gabriel’s eyes stayed locked lower. His voice came out rougher than usual.

“That’s not fair. You know I have an underwear fetish.”

I didn’t sit back down. I just stood there in front of him, shorts around my ankles, letting him look.

He set the beer bottle down slowly. “Turn around.”

I did.

Gabriel’s gaze dropped. He was quiet for a second, then he let out a low breath. “Fuck… you’ve got a nice ass in those.”

I glanced back over my shoulder, still standing there for a moment longer.

“Thank you. I work really hard.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched like he almost smiled, but his eyes stayed lower. I finally stepped out of the shorts completely, kicked them aside, and sat back down in the chair. The night air felt cooler now that I wasn’t wearing them.

He picked up his beer again, took a slow drink, then looked at me across the fire.

“Hypothetically,” he said, voice quieter, “tell me how it would work.”

I shifted in the chair, suddenly very aware of how little I was wearing. The fire popped. Gabriel waited.

“Hypothetically…” I started, then had to clear my throat. “I’d be dressed in something… particularly slutty. Like, the kind of outfit that makes it obvious what I am the second someone walks in.”

My face felt hot. I looked at the flames instead of him for a second.

“The ‘person’ would come in. Catch me. Throw me around a little.” I swallowed. “I’d… leave some stuff out. Rope, cuffs, whatever. So it’s there. And I’d resist. Fight it. Beg them to stop even though…”

I trailed off. My voice had gotten quieter. Between my legs I could feel myself getting a little hard just saying it out loud. I crossed my arms, trying to play it off, but the heat in my face wasn’t only from the fire.

Gabriel didn’t say anything right away. He just watched me across the fire, the beer bottle forgotten in his hand again.

I kept my eyes on the flames, face still burning. My voice had gone quieter than I meant it to.

“I’d fight,” I added, almost under my breath. “Not… not enough to actually stop it. Just enough so it feels real. Like I don’t have a choice.”

I shifted in the chair, face still hot, and gave a small shrug.

“That’s… kind of how it would go,” I said, voice quieter than before. “The details would be left up to the other party. I’d just… do whatever.”

I couldn’t look at him while I said it. Between my legs I was already a little hard just from talking about it, and the thin fabric did nothing to hide it.

Gabriel stared at me across the fire for a long second. Then he let out a rough breath.

“Fuck… that’s hot.”

I met his eyes across the fire.

“It is.”

My gaze dropped for half a second and I saw the clear outline of him straining against his jeans. Gabriel didn’t try to hide it. He just looked at me, voice low and steady.

“I’ve never fucked a guy… but under those circumstances, I could.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I swallowed, suddenly very aware of how little I was still wearing.

“I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”

Gabriel held my stare. “If it’s awkward, we never talk about it again.”

I took a breath and nodded once.

“Let’s work out the details then.”

Gabriel’s answer was immediate. “Okay.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the firelight cutting across his face. “Tomorrow. Come over to my house at seven.”

I swallowed. “What kind of underwear do you like?”

Gabriel didn’t hesitate. “Thongs. Red thongs.”

I felt my face heat again, but I kept going. We needed the rest of it clear.

“Safeword,” I said. “We pick one. But… anything else is on the table. If you don’t show up, or if you change your mind...no harm, no foul. We never mention it again.”

Gabriel held my eyes across the flames. “Understood.”

Gabriel stayed leaned forward, studying me across the fire.

“No limits?” he asked.

I nodded once. “Anything.”

He was quiet a second. “Gagging you?”

“Anything.”

“Leaving marks?”

My pulse kicked harder under my skin. I kept my voice steady even though my face was still hot. “Anything.”

Gabriel’s eyes stayed on mine. He didn’t smile. He just took it in, like he was filing every answer away.

“Lottery,” I said. “That’s the safeword.”

Gabriel gave a single nod. “Lottery.”

I stood and reached for my shorts. His voice stopped me.

“Keep them off.”

I looked at him for a second, then let the shorts drop back to the ground. “Okay.”

We stayed by the fire the rest of the night like nothing had changed...talking about dumb shit, finishing the last of the beers, the usual. But every time I glanced over, his eyes were on me.

The next day came too fast.

I was nervous the entire time. I prepped carefully...red thong, a short mini skirt that barely covered anything in the back, and a matching red bralette. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, then laid the rope and cuffs out neatly on the dresser where they’d be easy to reach.

Around 6:50 I was already worked up. I grabbed the lube, bent over a little, and spent a few minutes working myself open, slow and deliberate, just enough to take the edge off the anticipation. At 6:55 I left the front door unlocked and went into my room to fold laundry like nothing was about to happen.

I don’t know exactly what time it was when it started.

Strong arms suddenly locked around me from behind. My wrists were yanked back and pinned hard against the small of my back before I could even turn around.

I barely had time to react before he forced me forward. My chest hit the edge of the dresser hard enough to knock the breath out of me. The rope was already in his hands...he must have grabbed it the second he walked in.

He wrenched my wrists higher and started wrapping the rope tight, looping it fast and sure around both wrists, then cinching it so I couldn’t pull free. The rough fibers bit into my skin.

“Fucking knew you were a slut” he muttered against the side of my neck, voice rough. “All dressed up like this, door wide open… you really wanted someone to walk in and take you, didn’t you?”

I tried to twist away. He just shoved me harder against the dresser and kept tying, yanking the knots tighter until my shoulders burned.

“Stay still,” he ordered, low and sharp. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”

The last knot locked into place. My arms were completely useless behind my back. He grabbed a fistful of my ponytail and pulled my head back so I had no choice but to stare at our reflection in the mirror.

“There. That’s better.”

He kept my head pulled back by the ponytail, forcing me to watch us in the mirror. His other hand slid down and pushed the tiny skirt up over my hips.

“Look at you,” he said, voice low but steady. “All tied up already.”

I twisted against the rope. “Gabriel...stop. Let me go.”

“Quiet.” He gave my ponytail a light tug. “You’re the one who left the door unlocked. You’re the one who has all this slutty shit.”

His hand settled on my ass, squeezing once through the thong. I jerked forward against the dresser.

“Don’t... I’m serious, untie me.”

“No.” His mouth was close to my ear now. “You’re going to take it. That’s what you wanted, remember?”

I pulled harder at the bindings, shoulders straining. “I changed my mind. Cut it out.”

He didn’t untie me.

Instead he pressed closer, pinning me harder against the dresser so I couldn’t twist away. His hand stayed on my ass, squeezing again through the thin fabric of the thong.

“You didn’t change your mind,” he said, voice still low and even. “You left everything out for me. Rope, cuffs, door unlocked… you wanted this.”

I pulled at the rope again, wrists burning a little. “Gabriel, I’m serious...stop.”

“No.” He gave my ponytail another light tug, just enough to tilt my head back. “You’re going to stay right here and take it. That’s the deal.”

I tried to shove back with my shoulder. He just shifted his weight and kept me locked in place, the edge of the dresser digging into my hips.

“Please,” I said, quieter now, still testing the knots. “Don’t.”

His hand slid lower, fingers brushing along the edge of the thong. “Too late for that.”

His fingers hooked under the side of the thong and tugged it to the side, exposing me. I jerked hard against the rope.

“Gabriel...don’t. I’m not kidding.”

“I know you’re not.” He kept the fabric pulled aside with one hand and used the other to keep my ponytail tight. “That’s why it’s good.”

I tried to close my legs. He just pushed a knee between them from behind, forcing them open again, and held me there against the dresser.

“Stop fighting,” he said, calm but firm. “You’re already tied. You’re already open. You’re not getting out of this.”

I pulled at the rope again, breathing hard, still trying to twist away even though the knots weren’t giving.

“Please… just untie me.”

He didn’t. He only pressed closer, keeping me pinned exactly where he wanted me.

I heard the sound of his belt, then the soft drag of fabric as he pushed his jeans down just enough. A moment later I felt the blunt press of him against me, already hard, lined up where the thong was pulled aside.

“Gabriel...wait...”

He pushed in anyway, slow but steady, forcing the air out of my lungs as he filled me. My wrists strained hard against the rope.

“Fuck… stop,” I managed, voice tight.

“No.” His hand stayed fisted in my ponytail, holding my head back so I had to watch us in the mirror. “You’re taking it.”

He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, breathing hard against the side of my neck, letting me feel every inch. Then he pulled back and thrust in again, a little deeper this time.

I tried to twist away. The dresser edge dug into my hips. The rope held.

“Please…”

He kept a steady pace, hips snapping forward, the dresser creaking under us with every thrust. His grip on my ponytail never loosened.

“Gabriel...slow down...”

“No.” He drove in harder, forcing a sharp breath out of me. “You wanted this. You’re getting it.”

I pulled at the rope again, wrists burning, but the knots held. Every time I tried to shift or close my legs he just used his knee to keep me open and pinned.

“It hurts,” I said, voice strained.

“I know.” He didn’t stop. His free hand slid around and gripped my hip, pulling me back onto him with every thrust. “You’re still taking it.”

I could see us in the mirror...my arms bound tight behind my back, skirt shoved up, him buried deep and not giving me any room to move. The only thing I could do was stay there and feel every stroke.

He didn’t ease up.

Instead he drove into me harder, the dresser slamming against the wall with every thrust. His fist tightened in my ponytail and yanked my head back further, forcing a sharp sound out of my throat.

“Gabriel...fuck...stop...”

“No.” He landed an open handed spank on my ass, hard enough to sting, then another right after it. “You don’t get to stop this.”

I jerked against the rope, shoulders burning. He just planted his free hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me down flatter against the dresser, pinning me harder while he kept pounding into me.

“Please...slower...”

He answered with another sharp spank and a deeper thrust that knocked the breath out of me. “Take it. That’s what you’re here for.”

My wrists twisted uselessly in the bindings. Every rough snap of his hips forced me forward against the wood, the sting from his hand still burning across my ass as he used me without any real restraint.

A broken moan slipped out of me before I could stop it.

He heard it. His next thrust hit deeper, and another moan followed, louder this time. My arms strained against the rope, but the fight in my voice was starting to crack.

“Gabriel… fuck...”

“There it is.” He spanked me again, harder, and kept the rough pace, using my ponytail to pull me back onto every stroke. “You’re breaking already.”

I tried to shake my head, still pulling at the bindings, but another moan tore out of me when he drove in particularly deep. My legs were trembling. The resistance was still there in my words, but my body was starting to give.

“Don’t...please...”

Another moan broke out of me as he thrust in hard.

“Please… I don’t want to be a slut...”

He spanked me again, the sharp sting cutting through the heat. “Too late for that.”

I pulled at the rope, voice cracking. “I’m not...fuck...I’m not a slut, Gabriel, please...”

“You are right now.” He yanked my ponytail, forcing my back to arch, and drove into me deeper. “Dressed like one. Tied up like one. Taking it like one.”

A shaky moan spilled out of me. I shook my head, still trying to twist away even as my body kept reacting.

“Don’t say that...please...I’m not...”

He just kept fucking me through the protests, rough and steady, making sure every word came out broken between the sounds I couldn’t hold back.

Something in me finally gave.

The protests turned into broken moans, then into actual words I couldn’t stop.

“Fuck...please...harder...”

I started pushing back onto him, slamming my hips back to meet every thrust, the rope biting into my wrists as I used what little leverage I had.

“Break me,” I begged, voice raw. “Please...just break me. I’m nothing but a fuck toy...use me...”

Gabriel growled and gave me exactly that, pounding into me harder, the dresser slamming against the wall. I kept pushing back, chasing every stroke.

“I’m just a slut...your fuck toy...please don’t stop...break me...”

I was completely gone now, moaning and begging, slamming myself back onto his cock as hard as I could while the rope held my arms tight behind my back.

His rhythm turned sharp and uneven. He drove into me hard a few more times, then groaned against my ear.

“I’m about to cum...”

I immediately pushed back harder, desperate.

“Please...cum on my useless face. Please. I want it...I want to eat it. Make me take it. I’m just a fuck toy, please paint my face, let me taste it...”

I kept begging, voice cracked and needy, slamming myself back onto him as much as the rope would allow, waiting for him to pull out and give me exactly what I was asking for.

He pulled out fast, spun me around by the ponytail, and came across my face in thick ropes. I opened my mouth immediately, trying to catch every drop I could, tongue out, taking what landed on my lips and chin without hesitation. I fucking came right there, Jesus Christ…..

Gabriel stared down at me, breathing hard.

“Holy shit.”

He reached behind me and started untying the rope, fingers working the knots loose until my arms finally dropped free. My shoulders ached. I stayed on my knees in front of him, face messy.

He shook his head slowly. “That was way hotter than I expected. I didn’t think you’d actually say those things.”

I looked up at him, still licking what I could reach. “I told you.”

The desperation hit right after. I leaned in closer.

“Let me clean you. On my knees. Please.”

Gabriel didn’t argue. He just nodded once and let me.

I leaned in and took him into my mouth without another word, cleaning every inch with slow, thorough strokes of my tongue. I licked along the shaft, under the head, tasting both of us, making sure nothing was left.

Gabriel’s hand rested lightly in my hair...not pulling this time, just holding. He watched me the whole time, still catching his breath.

When I finally pulled off, I stayed on my knees and looked up at him, face still messy, lips wet.

He let out a rough exhale. “Jesus, Princess…”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then immediately went back to licking the last traces off him, slower now, almost careful.

Neither of us said anything else for a minute. The only sounds were the quiet wet noise of my tongue and both of us still breathing hard.

I stayed on my knees a moment longer, then looked up at him.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Gabriel’s hand was still in my hair. He gave a short, rough laugh.

“I think you know the answer.”

I hesitated, then asked the next part quietly.

“Want to do it again another time?”

Gabriel’s mouth curved into that familiar half smile.

“Next weekend? I’ve got some ideas.”

All characters are above the age of 18

The apartment was a sauna. AC had been off for three days straight because the bill already looked like a threat. Sweat stuck our boxers to our thighs while we sat on the floor in front of the TV, controllers in hand, the last of a twelve pack sweating in a plastic bag between us.

Eddy was winning. Of course he was. He always was. The kind of friend who clapped you on the back hard enough to sting and called it affection. Who’d “jokingly” call you a pussy for losing and then buy the next round like that somehow evened it out. I let most of it slide. Always had. Easier that way.

The pizza box sat open on the coffee table, one lonely slice left in the middle like it was daring us.

Eddy paused the game mid match. “That’s mine.”

“Fuck you. I paid for half.”

“You paid for the one with pineapple on it, dipshit. This one’s pure. Mine.”

We went back and forth for a solid minute, both of us half drunk and fully stubborn. Then Eddy grinned that sharp little grin he gets when he’s about to make something stupid into a competition.

“Alright. Gay chicken for it.”

I looked at him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. First one to chicken out loses the slice. And their dignity. Come on, Beckett. Don’t be a bitch.”

He said it like a joke. The same way he said most things that weren’t actually jokes. I could already see the way this was supposed to go in his head...him pushing just far enough to make me flinch, then laughing it off and taking the pizza like it was always his.

He didn’t know I was bi.  

Nobody did.  

Not even close.

And for once...for the first fucking time in years...I had the upper hand and he didn’t even realize it.

I set my controller down, leaned back on my hands, and met his eyes.

“Alright,” I said, calling his bluff. “Let’s play.”

Eddy started it the way I expected...hand on my knee, then higher, testing how far he could push before I flinched. Classic him. Always the one setting the pace, always assuming I’d be the first to fold.

I let him have that first move. Let him feel like he was still in control.

Then I took my turn.

I reached out, slow, and put my hand on his thigh the exact same way he’d done to me...except I didn’t stop at polite. My fingers slid higher, under the hem of his boxers, palm flat against bare skin. Warm. Tense. I felt the muscle jump under my hand.

Eddy went still.

His eyes flicked down to where I was touching him, then back up to my face. The cocky grin he’d been wearing faltered for half a second. Just long enough for me to see it.

“Your move,” I said, quiet.

He recovered fast, of course. Always did. He leaned in closer, one hand coming up to the side of my neck, thumb brushing along my jaw like he was daring me to pull away. His other hand mirrored what I’d just done...fingers sliding under my boxers, higher than before, more deliberate. He was trying to one up me. Trying to make me the one who broke first.

I didn’t.

I shifted forward until our knees were fully pressed together and did him one better. My hand left his thigh and went to the waistband of his boxers, fingers hooking under the elastic. I didn’t pull them down. Just held them there, the back of my knuckles brushing the skin just above. Close enough that there was no mistaking the intention.

Eddy’s breath hitched. Barely. But I heard it.

He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing. Like the rules had suddenly changed and he hadn’t gotten the memo. The bully in him wanted to push harder, to force me into backing down the way he always did with everyone else. But there was something else there now too...uncertainty. He wasn’t used to being matched. Especially not like this.

I kept my voice steady.

“Still your turn.”

He swallowed. Then, slower than before, he reached for the waistband of my boxers the same way. His fingers slipped under the elastic. We were both holding on now, knuckles brushing skin, the last slice of pizza completely forgotten between us.

The air in the apartment felt thicker. Hotter. Every small movement felt louder than it should have.

Eddy leaned in until his forehead nearly touched mine. His voice came out lower, almost rough.

“You’re not chicken yet?”

I held his gaze. Let the corner of my mouth lift just slightly.

“Not even close.”

And then I made the next move first...bolder than anything he’d done so far.

I didn’t wait for him to take the next turn.

While his fingers were still hooked in the waistband of my boxers, I slid my hand fully into his. Palm first. Fingers wrapping around him through the thin fabric, then under it. Skin on skin. He was already half hard, warm and heavy in my hand. I gave him a slow, deliberate stroke just to make sure there was no mistaking what I was doing.

Eddy froze.

His eyes went wide for a second. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I kept my grip, thumb brushing over the head of his cock as I looked him straight in the face.

“I’m playing,” I said.

Then I pulled him free of his boxers.

His cock sprang out into the hot air of the apartment, flushed and thickening fast in my hand. I didn’t look away from his face while I did it. Didn’t give him the chance to pretend this was still just a joke. I stroked him once, slow, from base to tip, feeling him swell fully hard under my fingers.

Eddy stared down at what I was doing like he couldn’t quite process it. His breathing had gone shallow. The hand that had been in my waistband tightened, then loosened, like he didn’t know whether to push me away or pull me closer.

“Beckett...”

“Your move,” I cut in, quiet but firm. I gave him another slow stroke, thumb circling the head, spreading the first bead of precum. “Or are you chicken?”

His jaw flexed. For a second I thought he might actually call it, might shove me off and take the pizza just to end whatever this had turned into. The bully in him hated losing control. Hated being the one on the back foot.

But he didn’t stop me.

Instead he shifted his hips forward, just slightly, pushing himself into my fist. His voice came out rougher than before.

“…Keep going then.”

I did.

I stroked him steadily now, watching the way his stomach tensed, the way his thighs flexed against mine. The game was still on, but the balance had already tipped. He thought he was still in charge. He had no idea I was the one who wanted this...who had wanted something like this for longer than I’d ever admit to him.

I leaned in closer, close enough that my breath brushed his ear when I spoke.

“I’m not chicken,” I said. “And I’m not stopping.”

Then I slid down.

I slid down onto my knees between his legs before he could change his mind.

The carpet was rough against my bare skin. Eddy was still sitting there on the floor, back against the couch, cock hard and slick from my hand, staring down at me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His boxers were shoved halfway down his thighs. His chest rose and fell too fast.

I didn’t give him time to talk himself out of it.

I leaned in and ran my tongue up the underside of his cock in one slow, deliberate stroke...base to tip...then took the head into my mouth. Warm. Salty. Already leaking. I sealed my lips around him and sucked, slow and steady, watching his face the whole time.

Eddy’s head tipped back against the couch cushion. A rough sound left his throat before he could stop it.

“Fuck...Beckett...”

I took him deeper, one hand wrapping around the base so I could stroke what wouldn’t fit. My tongue worked the underside while I bobbed, slow at first, then a little faster when I felt his hips twitch. The game was still technically on, but it didn’t feel like a game anymore. Not with the way his fingers suddenly threaded into my hair, not pulling me off...just holding on.

I pulled off just long enough to look up at him, lips shiny, voice low.

“Still your turn to chicken out.”

His eyes were dark. Pupils blown. The usual smirk was gone. He looked wrecked already and I’d barely started.

“You’re actually doing this,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself.

I answered by taking him back into my mouth, deeper this time, until my nose brushed the soft hair at the base. I stayed there for a second, throat working around him, then pulled back and sucked hard on the way up. His thighs tensed hard on either side of my head. One of his hands stayed in my hair; the other gripped the edge of the couch like he needed something solid to hold onto.

I kept going...wet, steady, deliberate...every time he made a sound I took him a little deeper, a little faster. I wanted him to feel how far I was willing to go. Wanted him to understand that I wasn’t the one who was going to break first.

Eddy’s breathing turned ragged. His hips started moving in small, involuntary thrusts, pushing into my mouth like he couldn’t help it. I let him. I relaxed my throat and took it, eyes watering just a little, one hand still stroking the base while the other rested on his thigh, feeling the muscle jump under my palm.

He was close. I could taste it. Feel it in the way his cock throbbed against my tongue.

I pulled off again, just long enough to speak, voice rough now.

“You gonna chicken,” I asked, “or are you gonna come?”

Eddy’s fingers tightened in my hair. His voice came out wrecked.

“Don’t you fucking stop.”

I didn’t.

I kept going, wet and relentless, taking him deep every time his hips stuttered up to meet my mouth. His cock was throbbing hard against my tongue now, the taste of him sharper, heavier. I could feel how close he was...the way his thighs shook, the way his fingers kept tightening and loosening in my hair like he couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.

Eddy’s breathing had gone completely ragged. His head was tipped back against the couch, eyes half lidded, mouth open. The usual sharp edge in his voice was gone. What came out instead was rough and almost desperate.

“Just...fuck...just finish. Please.”

I didn’t tease him. I sealed my lips tighter, hollowed my cheeks, and worked him with everything I had...stroking the base in time with my mouth, tongue pressing firm along the underside, taking him as deep as I could on every downstroke. His hand fisted in my hair, not guiding, just holding on.

“Beckett...shit...”

His hips jerked once, twice, and then he came hard, spilling across my tongue in thick pulses. I stayed on him through it, swallowing, sucking him through the aftershocks until his thighs finally stopped shaking and his grip in my hair loosened.

The second he finished, I pulled off.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t wipe my mouth. I just reached past him, grabbed the last slice of pizza out of the box, and took a big, deliberate bite while I was still on my knees between his legs.

Eddy stared at me, chest still heaving, cock wet and spent against his stomach, boxers shoved down around his thighs.

I chewed, swallowed, and looked him dead in the eye.

“I win.”

Eddy just stared.

Mouth slightly open, chest still rising and falling hard, cock soft and wet against his stomach. The shock on his face was almost better than the win itself. Like his brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that I’d just sucked him off, swallowed, and then claimed the pizza like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I took another bite, chewing slowly, watching him.

“I’m bi,” I said, casual as anything. “Sorry, not sorry. But I figured you’d just bully me for it. Guess you liked it.”

His eyes flicked from my mouth to the half eaten slice in my hand, then back to my face. The usual sharp comeback never came. For once, Eddy...the guy who always had something to say, who always had to be on top of every situation...had nothing.

I licked a bit of sauce off my thumb and kept looking at him.

Eddy dragged a hand down his face, still half dressed, still looking like someone had rewritten the rules of the night without telling him.

“I don’t know how to feel,” he said finally. His voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it.

I took another bite of the pizza, chewed, and shrugged.

“It’s fine, buddy. I won’t tell anyone.”

I said it easy, like it really was that simple. Like I hadn’t just had his cock in my mouth five minutes ago and then declared victory with a mouthful of pepperoni. Eddy watched me for a long second, something unreadable in his expression...confusion, maybe, or the first crack in the version of me he’d always been so sure he knew.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to flip it back on me the way he usually would.

He just sat there, still shocked, while I finished the last slice.

I finished the last bite of pizza and wiped my fingers on my own boxers, still sitting on the floor between his legs. Eddy still hadn’t moved to pull his underwear back up. His cock was just out, soft and spent, and he seemed too stuck in his head to even notice.

I tilted my head, looking at him with a slow little smirk.

“You planning on putting those back on anytime soon?” I asked, nodding at the boxers still shoved down around his thighs. “Because if you’re just gonna sit there like that, I might start thinking you want to try on something from my collection instead.”

I let the words hang for a second, watching his face.

“I’ve got a few pairs of panties that’d look better on you than those plain black ones anyway.”

Inside, I was almost laughing. The whole thing had started as a way to finally get one over on him, but the panties comment was pure calculation...I just wanted an excuse to make him uncomfortable and plant the seed. Let him know I had more if he ever decided to go further down this path. Because the truth was, Eddy was exactly my type. The bullying edge, the way he always had to be in control, the fact that I’d just made him come undone with my mouth… yeah. If he ever wanted more, I’d be a total slut for him without hesitation.

I kept my face easy, casual, like I hadn’t just offered him a look into something I never told anyone about.

Eddy finally moved.

He reached down, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, and yanked them back up in one rough motion, tucking himself away like he was trying to erase the last ten minutes. His face was still flushed, but the shock was hardening into something more familiar...something closer to his usual armor.

“Okay,” he said, voice flat. “Let’s game.”

He grabbed his controller off the floor and turned back toward the TV like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just had his cock in my mouth, like he hadn’t come down my throat, like I hadn’t told him I was bi and offered him a pair of my panties.

I stayed on the floor a second longer, watching him. Then I picked up my own controller and settled back against the couch, the taste of him still faint on my tongue, the empty pizza box sitting between us like a trophy.

The game loaded up again.

Neither of us mentioned what had just happened.

All characters are above the age of 18

The apartment was a sauna. AC had been off for three days straight because the bill already looked like a threat. Sweat stuck our boxers to our thighs while we sat on the floor in front of the TV, controllers in hand, the last of a twelve pack sweating in a plastic bag between us.

Eddy was winning. Of course he was. He always was. The kind of friend who clapped you on the back hard enough to sting and called it affection. Who’d “jokingly” call you a pussy for losing and then buy the next round like that somehow evened it out. I let most of it slide. Always had. Easier that way.

The pizza box sat open on the coffee table, one lonely slice left in the middle like it was daring us.

Eddy paused the game mid match. “That’s mine.”

“Fuck you. I paid for half.”

“You paid for the one with pineapple on it, dipshit. This one’s pure. Mine.”

We went back and forth for a solid minute, both of us half drunk and fully stubborn. Then Eddy grinned that sharp little grin he gets when he’s about to make something stupid into a competition.

“Alright. Gay chicken for it.”

I looked at him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. First one to chicken out loses the slice. And their dignity. Come on, Beckett. Don’t be a bitch.”

He said it like a joke. The same way he said most things that weren’t actually jokes. I could already see the way this was supposed to go in his head...him pushing just far enough to make me flinch, then laughing it off and taking the pizza like it was always his.

He didn’t know I was bi.  

Nobody did.  

Not even close.

And for once...for the first fucking time in years...I had the upper hand and he didn’t even realize it.

I set my controller down, leaned back on my hands, and met his eyes.

“Alright,” I said, calling his bluff. “Let’s play.”

Eddy started it the way I expected...hand on my knee, then higher, testing how far he could push before I flinched. Classic him. Always the one setting the pace, always assuming I’d be the first to fold.

I let him have that first move. Let him feel like he was still in control.

Then I took my turn.

I reached out, slow, and put my hand on his thigh the exact same way he’d done to me...except I didn’t stop at polite. My fingers slid higher, under the hem of his boxers, palm flat against bare skin. Warm. Tense. I felt the muscle jump under my hand.

Eddy went still.

His eyes flicked down to where I was touching him, then back up to my face. The cocky grin he’d been wearing faltered for half a second. Just long enough for me to see it.

“Your move,” I said, quiet.

He recovered fast, of course. Always did. He leaned in closer, one hand coming up to the side of my neck, thumb brushing along my jaw like he was daring me to pull away. His other hand mirrored what I’d just done...fingers sliding under my boxers, higher than before, more deliberate. He was trying to one up me. Trying to make me the one who broke first.

I didn’t.

I shifted forward until our knees were fully pressed together and did him one better. My hand left his thigh and went to the waistband of his boxers, fingers hooking under the elastic. I didn’t pull them down. Just held them there, the back of my knuckles brushing the skin just above. Close enough that there was no mistaking the intention.

Eddy’s breath hitched. Barely. But I heard it.

He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing. Like the rules had suddenly changed and he hadn’t gotten the memo. The bully in him wanted to push harder, to force me into backing down the way he always did with everyone else. But there was something else there now too...uncertainty. He wasn’t used to being matched. Especially not like this.

I kept my voice steady.

“Still your turn.”

He swallowed. Then, slower than before, he reached for the waistband of my boxers the same way. His fingers slipped under the elastic. We were both holding on now, knuckles brushing skin, the last slice of pizza completely forgotten between us.

The air in the apartment felt thicker. Hotter. Every small movement felt louder than it should have.

Eddy leaned in until his forehead nearly touched mine. His voice came out lower, almost rough.

“You’re not chicken yet?”

I held his gaze. Let the corner of my mouth lift just slightly.

“Not even close.”

And then I made the next move first...bolder than anything he’d done so far.

I didn’t wait for him to take the next turn.

While his fingers were still hooked in the waistband of my boxers, I slid my hand fully into his. Palm first. Fingers wrapping around him through the thin fabric, then under it. Skin on skin. He was already half hard, warm and heavy in my hand. I gave him a slow, deliberate stroke just to make sure there was no mistaking what I was doing.

Eddy froze.

His eyes went wide for a second. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I kept my grip, thumb brushing over the head of his cock as I looked him straight in the face.

“I’m playing,” I said.

Then I pulled him free of his boxers.

His cock sprang out into the hot air of the apartment, flushed and thickening fast in my hand. I didn’t look away from his face while I did it. Didn’t give him the chance to pretend this was still just a joke. I stroked him once, slow, from base to tip, feeling him swell fully hard under my fingers.

Eddy stared down at what I was doing like he couldn’t quite process it. His breathing had gone shallow. The hand that had been in my waistband tightened, then loosened, like he didn’t know whether to push me away or pull me closer.

“Beckett...”

“Your move,” I cut in, quiet but firm. I gave him another slow stroke, thumb circling the head, spreading the first bead of precum. “Or are you chicken?”

His jaw flexed. For a second I thought he might actually call it, might shove me off and take the pizza just to end whatever this had turned into. The bully in him hated losing control. Hated being the one on the back foot.

But he didn’t stop me.

Instead he shifted his hips forward, just slightly, pushing himself into my fist. His voice came out rougher than before.

“…Keep going then.”

I did.

I stroked him steadily now, watching the way his stomach tensed, the way his thighs flexed against mine. The game was still on, but the balance had already tipped. He thought he was still in charge. He had no idea I was the one who wanted this...who had wanted something like this for longer than I’d ever admit to him.

I leaned in closer, close enough that my breath brushed his ear when I spoke.

“I’m not chicken,” I said. “And I’m not stopping.”

Then I slid down.

I slid down onto my knees between his legs before he could change his mind.

The carpet was rough against my bare skin. Eddy was still sitting there on the floor, back against the couch, cock hard and slick from my hand, staring down at me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His boxers were shoved halfway down his thighs. His chest rose and fell too fast.

I didn’t give him time to talk himself out of it.

I leaned in and ran my tongue up the underside of his cock in one slow, deliberate stroke...base to tip...then took the head into my mouth. Warm. Salty. Already leaking. I sealed my lips around him and sucked, slow and steady, watching his face the whole time.

Eddy’s head tipped back against the couch cushion. A rough sound left his throat before he could stop it.

“Fuck...Beckett...”

I took him deeper, one hand wrapping around the base so I could stroke what wouldn’t fit. My tongue worked the underside while I bobbed, slow at first, then a little faster when I felt his hips twitch. The game was still technically on, but it didn’t feel like a game anymore. Not with the way his fingers suddenly threaded into my hair, not pulling me off...just holding on.

I pulled off just long enough to look up at him, lips shiny, voice low.

“Still your turn to chicken out.”

His eyes were dark. Pupils blown. The usual smirk was gone. He looked wrecked already and I’d barely started.

“You’re actually doing this,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself.

I answered by taking him back into my mouth, deeper this time, until my nose brushed the soft hair at the base. I stayed there for a second, throat working around him, then pulled back and sucked hard on the way up. His thighs tensed hard on either side of my head. One of his hands stayed in my hair; the other gripped the edge of the couch like he needed something solid to hold onto.

I kept going...wet, steady, deliberate...every time he made a sound I took him a little deeper, a little faster. I wanted him to feel how far I was willing to go. Wanted him to understand that I wasn’t the one who was going to break first.

Eddy’s breathing turned ragged. His hips started moving in small, involuntary thrusts, pushing into my mouth like he couldn’t help it. I let him. I relaxed my throat and took it, eyes watering just a little, one hand still stroking the base while the other rested on his thigh, feeling the muscle jump under my palm.

He was close. I could taste it. Feel it in the way his cock throbbed against my tongue.

I pulled off again, just long enough to speak, voice rough now.

“You gonna chicken,” I asked, “or are you gonna come?”

Eddy’s fingers tightened in my hair. His voice came out wrecked.

“Don’t you fucking stop.”

I didn’t.

I kept going, wet and relentless, taking him deep every time his hips stuttered up to meet my mouth. His cock was throbbing hard against my tongue now, the taste of him sharper, heavier. I could feel how close he was...the way his thighs shook, the way his fingers kept tightening and loosening in my hair like he couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.

Eddy’s breathing had gone completely ragged. His head was tipped back against the couch, eyes half lidded, mouth open. The usual sharp edge in his voice was gone. What came out instead was rough and almost desperate.

“Just...fuck...just finish. Please.”

I didn’t tease him. I sealed my lips tighter, hollowed my cheeks, and worked him with everything I had...stroking the base in time with my mouth, tongue pressing firm along the underside, taking him as deep as I could on every downstroke. His hand fisted in my hair, not guiding, just holding on.

“Beckett...shit...”

His hips jerked once, twice, and then he came hard, spilling across my tongue in thick pulses. I stayed on him through it, swallowing, sucking him through the aftershocks until his thighs finally stopped shaking and his grip in my hair loosened.

The second he finished, I pulled off.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t wipe my mouth. I just reached past him, grabbed the last slice of pizza out of the box, and took a big, deliberate bite while I was still on my knees between his legs.

Eddy stared at me, chest still heaving, cock wet and spent against his stomach, boxers shoved down around his thighs.

I chewed, swallowed, and looked him dead in the eye.

“I win.”

Eddy just stared.

Mouth slightly open, chest still rising and falling hard, cock soft and wet against his stomach. The shock on his face was almost better than the win itself. Like his brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that I’d just sucked him off, swallowed, and then claimed the pizza like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I took another bite, chewing slowly, watching him.

“I’m bi,” I said, casual as anything. “Sorry, not sorry. But I figured you’d just bully me for it. Guess you liked it.”

His eyes flicked from my mouth to the half eaten slice in my hand, then back to my face. The usual sharp comeback never came. For once, Eddy...the guy who always had something to say, who always had to be on top of every situation...had nothing.

I licked a bit of sauce off my thumb and kept looking at him.

Eddy dragged a hand down his face, still half dressed, still looking like someone had rewritten the rules of the night without telling him.

“I don’t know how to feel,” he said finally. His voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it.

I took another bite of the pizza, chewed, and shrugged.

“It’s fine, buddy. I won’t tell anyone.”

I said it easy, like it really was that simple. Like I hadn’t just had his cock in my mouth five minutes ago and then declared victory with a mouthful of pepperoni. Eddy watched me for a long second, something unreadable in his expression...confusion, maybe, or the first crack in the version of me he’d always been so sure he knew.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to flip it back on me the way he usually would.

He just sat there, still shocked, while I finished the last slice.

I finished the last bite of pizza and wiped my fingers on my own boxers, still sitting on the floor between his legs. Eddy still hadn’t moved to pull his underwear back up. His cock was just out, soft and spent, and he seemed too stuck in his head to even notice.

I tilted my head, looking at him with a slow little smirk.

“You planning on putting those back on anytime soon?” I asked, nodding at the boxers still shoved down around his thighs. “Because if you’re just gonna sit there like that, I might start thinking you want to try on something from my collection instead.”

I let the words hang for a second, watching his face.

“I’ve got a few pairs of panties that’d look better on you than those plain black ones anyway.”

Inside, I was almost laughing. The whole thing had started as a way to finally get one over on him, but the panties comment was pure calculation...I just wanted an excuse to make him uncomfortable and plant the seed. Let him know I had more if he ever decided to go further down this path. Because the truth was, Eddy was exactly my type. The bullying edge, the way he always had to be in control, the fact that I’d just made him come undone with my mouth… yeah. If he ever wanted more, I’d be a total slut for him without hesitation.

I kept my face easy, casual, like I hadn’t just offered him a look into something I never told anyone about.

Eddy finally moved.

He reached down, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, and yanked them back up in one rough motion, tucking himself away like he was trying to erase the last ten minutes. His face was still flushed, but the shock was hardening into something more familiar...something closer to his usual armor.

“Okay,” he said, voice flat. “Let’s game.”

He grabbed his controller off the floor and turned back toward the TV like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just had his cock in my mouth, like he hadn’t come down my throat, like I hadn’t told him I was bi and offered him a pair of my panties.

I stayed on the floor a second longer, watching him. Then I picked up my own controller and settled back against the couch, the taste of him still faint on my tongue, the empty pizza box sitting between us like a trophy.

The game loaded up again.

Neither of us mentioned what had just happened.

All characters are above the age of 18

The apartment was a sauna. AC had been off for three days straight because the bill already looked like a threat. Sweat stuck our boxers to our thighs while we sat on the floor in front of the TV, controllers in hand, the last of a twelve pack sweating in a plastic bag between us.

Eddy was winning. Of course he was. He always was. The kind of friend who clapped you on the back hard enough to sting and called it affection. Who’d “jokingly” call you a pussy for losing and then buy the next round like that somehow evened it out. I let most of it slide. Always had. Easier that way.

The pizza box sat open on the coffee table, one lonely slice left in the middle like it was daring us.

Eddy paused the game mid match. “That’s mine.”

“Fuck you. I paid for half.”

“You paid for the one with pineapple on it, dipshit. This one’s pure. Mine.”

We went back and forth for a solid minute, both of us half drunk and fully stubborn. Then Eddy grinned that sharp little grin he gets when he’s about to make something stupid into a competition.

“Alright. Gay chicken for it.”

I looked at him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. First one to chicken out loses the slice. And their dignity. Come on, Beckett. Don’t be a bitch.”

He said it like a joke. The same way he said most things that weren’t actually jokes. I could already see the way this was supposed to go in his head...him pushing just far enough to make me flinch, then laughing it off and taking the pizza like it was always his.

He didn’t know I was bi.  

Nobody did.  

Not even close.

And for once...for the first fucking time in years...I had the upper hand and he didn’t even realize it.

I set my controller down, leaned back on my hands, and met his eyes.

“Alright,” I said, calling his bluff. “Let’s play.”

Eddy started it the way I expected...hand on my knee, then higher, testing how far he could push before I flinched. Classic him. Always the one setting the pace, always assuming I’d be the first to fold.

I let him have that first move. Let him feel like he was still in control.

Then I took my turn.

I reached out, slow, and put my hand on his thigh the exact same way he’d done to me...except I didn’t stop at polite. My fingers slid higher, under the hem of his boxers, palm flat against bare skin. Warm. Tense. I felt the muscle jump under my hand.

Eddy went still.

His eyes flicked down to where I was touching him, then back up to my face. The cocky grin he’d been wearing faltered for half a second. Just long enough for me to see it.

“Your move,” I said, quiet.

He recovered fast, of course. Always did. He leaned in closer, one hand coming up to the side of my neck, thumb brushing along my jaw like he was daring me to pull away. His other hand mirrored what I’d just done...fingers sliding under my boxers, higher than before, more deliberate. He was trying to one up me. Trying to make me the one who broke first.

I didn’t.

I shifted forward until our knees were fully pressed together and did him one better. My hand left his thigh and went to the waistband of his boxers, fingers hooking under the elastic. I didn’t pull them down. Just held them there, the back of my knuckles brushing the skin just above. Close enough that there was no mistaking the intention.

Eddy’s breath hitched. Barely. But I heard it.

He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing. Like the rules had suddenly changed and he hadn’t gotten the memo. The bully in him wanted to push harder, to force me into backing down the way he always did with everyone else. But there was something else there now too...uncertainty. He wasn’t used to being matched. Especially not like this.

I kept my voice steady.

“Still your turn.”

He swallowed. Then, slower than before, he reached for the waistband of my boxers the same way. His fingers slipped under the elastic. We were both holding on now, knuckles brushing skin, the last slice of pizza completely forgotten between us.

The air in the apartment felt thicker. Hotter. Every small movement felt louder than it should have.

Eddy leaned in until his forehead nearly touched mine. His voice came out lower, almost rough.

“You’re not chicken yet?”

I held his gaze. Let the corner of my mouth lift just slightly.

“Not even close.”

And then I made the next move first...bolder than anything he’d done so far.

I didn’t wait for him to take the next turn.

While his fingers were still hooked in the waistband of my boxers, I slid my hand fully into his. Palm first. Fingers wrapping around him through the thin fabric, then under it. Skin on skin. He was already half hard, warm and heavy in my hand. I gave him a slow, deliberate stroke just to make sure there was no mistaking what I was doing.

Eddy froze.

His eyes went wide for a second. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I kept my grip, thumb brushing over the head of his cock as I looked him straight in the face.

“I’m playing,” I said.

Then I pulled him free of his boxers.

His cock sprang out into the hot air of the apartment, flushed and thickening fast in my hand. I didn’t look away from his face while I did it. Didn’t give him the chance to pretend this was still just a joke. I stroked him once, slow, from base to tip, feeling him swell fully hard under my fingers.

Eddy stared down at what I was doing like he couldn’t quite process it. His breathing had gone shallow. The hand that had been in my waistband tightened, then loosened, like he didn’t know whether to push me away or pull me closer.

“Beckett...”

“Your move,” I cut in, quiet but firm. I gave him another slow stroke, thumb circling the head, spreading the first bead of precum. “Or are you chicken?”

His jaw flexed. For a second I thought he might actually call it, might shove me off and take the pizza just to end whatever this had turned into. The bully in him hated losing control. Hated being the one on the back foot.

But he didn’t stop me.

Instead he shifted his hips forward, just slightly, pushing himself into my fist. His voice came out rougher than before.

“…Keep going then.”

I did.

I stroked him steadily now, watching the way his stomach tensed, the way his thighs flexed against mine. The game was still on, but the balance had already tipped. He thought he was still in charge. He had no idea I was the one who wanted this...who had wanted something like this for longer than I’d ever admit to him.

I leaned in closer, close enough that my breath brushed his ear when I spoke.

“I’m not chicken,” I said. “And I’m not stopping.”

Then I slid down.

I slid down onto my knees between his legs before he could change his mind.

The carpet was rough against my bare skin. Eddy was still sitting there on the floor, back against the couch, cock hard and slick from my hand, staring down at me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His boxers were shoved halfway down his thighs. His chest rose and fell too fast.

I didn’t give him time to talk himself out of it.

I leaned in and ran my tongue up the underside of his cock in one slow, deliberate stroke...base to tip...then took the head into my mouth. Warm. Salty. Already leaking. I sealed my lips around him and sucked, slow and steady, watching his face the whole time.

Eddy’s head tipped back against the couch cushion. A rough sound left his throat before he could stop it.

“Fuck...Beckett...”

I took him deeper, one hand wrapping around the base so I could stroke what wouldn’t fit. My tongue worked the underside while I bobbed, slow at first, then a little faster when I felt his hips twitch. The game was still technically on, but it didn’t feel like a game anymore. Not with the way his fingers suddenly threaded into my hair, not pulling me off...just holding on.

I pulled off just long enough to look up at him, lips shiny, voice low.

“Still your turn to chicken out.”

His eyes were dark. Pupils blown. The usual smirk was gone. He looked wrecked already and I’d barely started.

“You’re actually doing this,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself.

I answered by taking him back into my mouth, deeper this time, until my nose brushed the soft hair at the base. I stayed there for a second, throat working around him, then pulled back and sucked hard on the way up. His thighs tensed hard on either side of my head. One of his hands stayed in my hair; the other gripped the edge of the couch like he needed something solid to hold onto.

I kept going...wet, steady, deliberate...every time he made a sound I took him a little deeper, a little faster. I wanted him to feel how far I was willing to go. Wanted him to understand that I wasn’t the one who was going to break first.

Eddy’s breathing turned ragged. His hips started moving in small, involuntary thrusts, pushing into my mouth like he couldn’t help it. I let him. I relaxed my throat and took it, eyes watering just a little, one hand still stroking the base while the other rested on his thigh, feeling the muscle jump under my palm.

He was close. I could taste it. Feel it in the way his cock throbbed against my tongue.

I pulled off again, just long enough to speak, voice rough now.

“You gonna chicken,” I asked, “or are you gonna come?”

Eddy’s fingers tightened in my hair. His voice came out wrecked.

“Don’t you fucking stop.”

I didn’t.

I kept going, wet and relentless, taking him deep every time his hips stuttered up to meet my mouth. His cock was throbbing hard against my tongue now, the taste of him sharper, heavier. I could feel how close he was...the way his thighs shook, the way his fingers kept tightening and loosening in my hair like he couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.

Eddy’s breathing had gone completely ragged. His head was tipped back against the couch, eyes half lidded, mouth open. The usual sharp edge in his voice was gone. What came out instead was rough and almost desperate.

“Just...fuck...just finish. Please.”

I didn’t tease him. I sealed my lips tighter, hollowed my cheeks, and worked him with everything I had...stroking the base in time with my mouth, tongue pressing firm along the underside, taking him as deep as I could on every downstroke. His hand fisted in my hair, not guiding, just holding on.

“Beckett...shit...”

His hips jerked once, twice, and then he came hard, spilling across my tongue in thick pulses. I stayed on him through it, swallowing, sucking him through the aftershocks until his thighs finally stopped shaking and his grip in my hair loosened.

The second he finished, I pulled off.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t wipe my mouth. I just reached past him, grabbed the last slice of pizza out of the box, and took a big, deliberate bite while I was still on my knees between his legs.

Eddy stared at me, chest still heaving, cock wet and spent against his stomach, boxers shoved down around his thighs.

I chewed, swallowed, and looked him dead in the eye.

“I win.”

Eddy just stared.

Mouth slightly open, chest still rising and falling hard, cock soft and wet against his stomach. The shock on his face was almost better than the win itself. Like his brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that I’d just sucked him off, swallowed, and then claimed the pizza like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I took another bite, chewing slowly, watching him.

“I’m bi,” I said, casual as anything. “Sorry, not sorry. But I figured you’d just bully me for it. Guess you liked it.”

His eyes flicked from my mouth to the half eaten slice in my hand, then back to my face. The usual sharp comeback never came. For once, Eddy...the guy who always had something to say, who always had to be on top of every situation...had nothing.

I licked a bit of sauce off my thumb and kept looking at him.

Eddy dragged a hand down his face, still half dressed, still looking like someone had rewritten the rules of the night without telling him.

“I don’t know how to feel,” he said finally. His voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it.

I took another bite of the pizza, chewed, and shrugged.

“It’s fine, buddy. I won’t tell anyone.”

I said it easy, like it really was that simple. Like I hadn’t just had his cock in my mouth five minutes ago and then declared victory with a mouthful of pepperoni. Eddy watched me for a long second, something unreadable in his expression...confusion, maybe, or the first crack in the version of me he’d always been so sure he knew.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to flip it back on me the way he usually would.

He just sat there, still shocked, while I finished the last slice.

I finished the last bite of pizza and wiped my fingers on my own boxers, still sitting on the floor between his legs. Eddy still hadn’t moved to pull his underwear back up. His cock was just out, soft and spent, and he seemed too stuck in his head to even notice.

I tilted my head, looking at him with a slow little smirk.

“You planning on putting those back on anytime soon?” I asked, nodding at the boxers still shoved down around his thighs. “Because if you’re just gonna sit there like that, I might start thinking you want to try on something from my collection instead.”

I let the words hang for a second, watching his face.

“I’ve got a few pairs of panties that’d look better on you than those plain black ones anyway.”

Inside, I was almost laughing. The whole thing had started as a way to finally get one over on him, but the panties comment was pure calculation...I just wanted an excuse to make him uncomfortable and plant the seed. Let him know I had more if he ever decided to go further down this path. Because the truth was, Eddy was exactly my type. The bullying edge, the way he always had to be in control, the fact that I’d just made him come undone with my mouth… yeah. If he ever wanted more, I’d be a total slut for him without hesitation.

I kept my face easy, casual, like I hadn’t just offered him a look into something I never told anyone about.

Eddy finally moved.

He reached down, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, and yanked them back up in one rough motion, tucking himself away like he was trying to erase the last ten minutes. His face was still flushed, but the shock was hardening into something more familiar...something closer to his usual armor.

“Okay,” he said, voice flat. “Let’s game.”

He grabbed his controller off the floor and turned back toward the TV like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just had his cock in my mouth, like he hadn’t come down my throat, like I hadn’t told him I was bi and offered him a pair of my panties.

I stayed on the floor a second longer, watching him. Then I picked up my own controller and settled back against the couch, the taste of him still faint on my tongue, the empty pizza box sitting between us like a trophy.

The game loaded up again.

Neither of us mentioned what had just happened.

All characters are above the age of 18.

My weekend of fun was finally ready to begin.

Work had been a special kind of hell the past few weeks...endless meetings, passive aggressive emails, the constant low grade panic of deadlines that never quite went away. I needed to shut it all off. I needed to go all out and fuck myself proper.

I’d given in to my feminine desires years ago, though I’d never managed to do anything about them with another person. Maybe I was just a coward. Maybe I was just a pussy. Either way, I had a pretty extensive collection of women’s clothing tucked away in the spare bedroom, and today none of that self reflection was going to stop me.

I spent a long time in the shower, scrubbing until my skin was pink, then carefully shaved everything smooth. I dried my long hair and pulled it up into a high, tight ponytail that made my neck look longer. The outfit I’d chosen was simple but deliberate: a pale pink lace bralette, matching panties that sat high on my hips, sheer black stockings clipped to a thin garter belt. My favorite rainbow dildo waited on its floor mount in the middle of the spare bedroom, already slicked and ready.

I stood in front of the full length mirror for a minute, turning sideways, watching the way the light caught the lace and the curve of my ass. Then I sank down slowly onto the dildo, watching myself the entire time. The stretch made my mouth open. I wished it was real. I wished I wasn’t such a bitch about everything. I rode it harder, punishing myself for every wasted opportunity, every night I’d spent alone instead of finding someone who might actually want this version of me.

In the reflection I saw my landlord standing behind me.

“Oh God... I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean...”

I leapt up off the dildo so fast my knees nearly gave out. The wet sound it made leaving me was obscenely loud in the sudden silence. I spun around, face burning, heart slamming.

Shit. This is embarrassing.

Kyle stood there with his toolbox in one hand and a ladder under the other arm, frozen in place. His voice came out low and awkward. “I’m so sorry. There was a notice I sent last week that I’d be over to change the smoke alarms. I have to do it today.”

Fuck. I remembered reading that email and filing it away under “deal with later.” Guess it was kind of my fault.

I was still shaking when I managed to answer. “Okay. Go ahead.”

There was a pause. “I need to change the one in that room as well… I can come back later if you want.”

“No,” I said, too quickly. “It’s alright. Just... grab my robe off the bathroom door, please.”

He walked away, then returned a moment later and held the short black robe out to me. I took it while trying to keep most of my body angled away, yanked it on, and tied the belt. The hem barely reached mid thigh; the tops of my stockings still showed. Whatever. I grabbed the dildo off the floor mount and tried to shove it into the robe’s pocket. It was too thick; the head stuck out. I ended up clamping it against my side with my arm like some ridiculous, shiny rainbow secret.

Kyle had already moved across the hallway, carefully not looking at me. He carried the ladder into the spare bedroom and set to work. I stayed where I was, robe clutched closed, arm glued to my side, listening to the quiet sounds of him working...the ladder shifting, the soft click of the old detector coming down, the new one going up. A few minutes later he came back out, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“I really am sorry,” he said again. “I thought you knew.”

“It’s okay.”

That was when I noticed he was staring. Not at my face. At the way the short robe rode up when I shifted my weight, at the dark line of the garter straps against my thighs, at the flush still high on my cheeks. He caught himself and looked away, but not before I saw the unmistakable shape pressing against the front of his work pants.

My face went hotter. It can’t get any worse than this, right?

I untied the belt and let the robe fall open, then shrugged it off my shoulders entirely. It slid to the floor with a soft whisper of fabric.

I looked at him...really looked. Early forties, maybe pushing fifty, but solid in that quiet, capable way some men get. Salt and pepper stubble, strong forearms, the kind of face I’d fantasized about more than once when I was alone with the dildo and a head full of impossible scenarios. The hard outline in his jeans hadn’t gone away. If anything it looked thicker.

“You think I’m pretty?” I asked, voice smaller than I wanted it to be.

Kyle’s throat worked once before he answered.

“Yes,” he said, voice rough. He cleared it and tried again, still looking at me like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. “Yeah. You look… really pretty.”

The word landed heavier than it should have. My face burned hotter.

“Thanks,” I managed. “Sorry. I... I’ve never been seen like this.”

He nodded once, slow, eyes flicking down the length of me again before he forced them back up. “I can tell.” A short, nervous laugh escaped him. “Christ. I really didn’t mean to walk in on… that.”

“I know.” I shifted my weight, still holding the rainbow dildo against my hip like an idiot. The lace of the panties stuck to me where I’d been wet from riding it. “I forgot about the smoke alarms. Completely my fault.”

Kyle’s gaze dropped to the dildo for half a second, then away. His hand flexed at his side. “You don’t have to apologize for… looking the way you do.”

I swallowed. “Even like this?”

His eyes came back to mine. “Especially like this.”

The silence stretched. I could hear the soft creak of the floor under his boots when he shifted. The outline in his jeans hadn’t faded; if anything it looked more insistent now that we were standing this close with nothing between us but air and the pile of my discarded robe.

I let the dildo slip from under my arm and set it carefully on the hallway table without breaking eye contact. My hands felt empty and useless afterward.

“You’re staring,” I said quietly.

“Hard not to.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the motion making the muscles in his forearm stand out. “You’re standing there in… all that. And you asked if I thought you were pretty. I’m trying to be a decent landlord here, Aden.”

The way he said my name made something tight pull low in my stomach.

“And if you weren’t trying so hard to be decent?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened. He took one small step closer...not enough to close the space completely, but enough that I could smell the faint trace of whatever soap he used and the clean sweat from working. His voice dropped.

“Then I’d probably still be staring. And I’d be thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking about my tenant.”

I felt my pulse in my throat. “What kind of things?”

He looked at me for a long second, eyes dark, nervous energy still rolling off him in waves. “The kind that make it real fucking obvious why I can’t get this under control.” He glanced down at the front of his jeans, then back up, almost sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The words came out softer than I meant. I took a tiny step of my own, closing a little more of the distance. The tops of my stockings brushed against each other when I moved. “I’ve spent a long time wishing someone would look at me like this. Even if it’s… complicated.”

Kyle’s breath left him in a quiet exhale. His hand lifted halfway, like he might reach for me, then stopped in the air between us.

“Complicated is one word for it,” he said.

The way he looked at me made my stomach twist in the best and worst way at the same time.

I had spent years hiding this part of myself...locking it away in the spare bedroom, only letting it out when I was alone with the mirror and the dildo. No one had ever seen me like this. No one had ever stared at the lace and the stockings and the smooth skin and called me pretty with that low, rough voice. The attention sat heavy and hot under my ribs. It made me feel exposed and wanted in equal measure, like every secret fantasy I’d punished myself for was suddenly standing right in front of me in the shape of my landlord’s dark eyes and the unmistakable strain in his jeans.

I could feel my pulse between my legs. The wet fabric of the panties clung to me. My hands trembled slightly at my sides.

Kyle still hadn’t moved. His hand hovered in the space between us, fingers slightly curled, like he was fighting himself.

I licked my lips.

“You could do whatever you want to me,” I said.

The words came out quieter than I expected, but they were clear. I didn’t look away. I let him see exactly how serious I was.

His eyes sharpened. The nervous energy rolling off him shifted into something heavier.

“Aden…”

“I mean it.” My voice stayed soft. “I’ve never been looked at like this. Not once. And the way you’re looking at me right now...” I glanced down at the thick outline pressing against his jeans, then back up. “It makes me feel… wanted. In a way I didn’t think anyone would ever want me. So if you want to touch me, or tell me to turn around, or put me on my knees, or anything else… you can. I won’t stop you.”

Kyle’s breath left him in a slow, controlled exhale. His hand finally dropped, but not to his side. It settled lightly against the wall beside my head, boxing me in just enough that I had to tilt my chin up to keep meeting his eyes. The heat of his body was close now. I could smell the clean sweat on his skin.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he said, voice low.

“I do.” My heart was slamming so hard I was sure he could hear it. “I’ve thought about this exact kind of man doing this exact kind of thing to me more times than I can count. I’m just finally saying it out loud.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth for a second, then lower. When he looked back up, the nervousness was still there, but it was tangled with something darker and hungrier.

“And if I take you up on that?” he asked.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Then I’ll let you.”

Kyle’s hand left the wall and closed around my high ponytail.

He didn’t yank hard...just enough to tilt my head back and make me look up at him. The pull sent a sharp little spark down my spine. His other hand settled on my hip, fingers digging in through the thin lace of the panties.

“Say that again,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

“I’ll let you,” I whispered. “Anything you want.”

He used the grip in my hair to turn me around and press my chest against the hallway wall. The cool plaster kissed my nipples through the bralette. His body crowded in behind me, the hard line of his cock settling against the curve of my ass. One rough hand slid down and cupped me between the legs through the damp pink fabric, squeezing firmly.

“Already this worked up,” he muttered against the side of my neck. “You were riding that toy like a desperate little slut and now you’re offering yourself up the second someone catches you. That right?”

The words hit harder than the hand between my legs. My mind short circuited for a second.

Slut.  

I’d called myself that in my head a thousand times while I was alone. Hearing it out loud...from him...made something inside me open up and flood. And the fact that he was old enough to be my dad only made it worse. Or better. I couldn’t tell anymore.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He gave my ponytail another firm tug, forcing my back to arch. His free hand slipped inside the waistband of the panties from behind, two thick fingers finding the slick heat left over from the dildo and pushing in without warning. I gasped.

“Fuck, you’re still open from playing with yourself.” He worked his fingers in and out, slow and deliberate, the wet sound filthy in the quiet hallway. “Look at you. Bent over for your landlord like you’ve been waiting for it.”

My forehead rested against the wall. Every thrust of his fingers made my knees weaker. Inside my head the thoughts were racing, rearranging themselves in real time.

I’m letting him do this. I’m standing here in stockings and lace with his fingers inside me and I’m not stopping him. I’m pushing back onto them. He’s old enough to be my dad and I’m still taking it. I am a slut. I’m actually becoming the thing I’ve only ever pretended to be when I was alone.

The realization didn’t scare me. It only made me push back harder onto his hand.

Kyle pulled his fingers free, brought them up, and wiped the slick across my mouth.

“Taste it,” he said. “See how messy you got just from being called pretty.”

I licked without thinking. The taste of my own desperation and pure humiliation. He kept the grip in my hair and used it to walk me the few steps back into the spare bedroom, the one with the mirror still facing the floor mount. He bent me over the edge of the bed, one hand still fisted in my ponytail, the other delivering a sharp, open handed spank to my ass. The sting bloomed hot through the thin panties.

“Ass up. Keep those pretty stockings on.” Another smack, harder. “You’ve been playing house with that rainbow cock long enough. Time you got used to something that talks back.”

I arched for him automatically, face burning, mind spinning.

He’s spanking me. He’s talking to me like I’m nothing but a hole that dresses up pretty and I am letting him. He’s old enough to be my father and I’m still pushing my ass back for the next hit. I am a slut. Right now, in this room, I am exactly the kind of slut I always punished myself for wanting to be.

Kyle leaned over my back, mouth close to my ear, still holding my hair like a rein.

“You’re gonna take whatever I give you, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, voice already wrecked.

“Louder.”

“Yes.”

He spanked me again, right over the same spot, and I felt the last of my old careful self start to crack open under the heat of it.

Kyle’s hand left my ass after the last spank and went to his belt.

I heard the clink of the buckle, the slow drag of the zipper, the soft sound of fabric shifting. A moment later the thick, hot weight of his cock settled against the cleft of my ass, sliding up and down through the thin lace of the panties. He didn’t rush. He just dragged himself there, letting me feel every inch while he kept that steady grip on my ponytail.

“Pretty little thing,” he muttered. “All dressed up and already open for me.”

He hooked two fingers in the crotch of the panties and yanked them aside. The head of his cock nudged against my hole. He pushed in slow at first, just the head, then kept going until I felt every thick inch stretch me open.

My mouth fell open against the sheets.

He’s done this before. He has to have. The way he just takes what he wants, the way he doesn’t hesitate...he’s fucked other girls like this. Bent them over and filled them up the same way he’s filling me right now. I wonder how many. I wonder if they felt this full.

He bottomed out with a low groan and stayed there for a second, grinding deep like he wanted me to feel exactly how much of him was inside me. Then he pulled back and thrust in harder.

“Fuck...” The word left me in a broken little moan. “Your cock feels so good.”

Kyle’s grip tightened in my hair. He started fucking me in steady, deep strokes, the slap of his hips against my ass filling the room. Every thrust dragged another sound out of me.

“Yeah?” he said, voice rough. “Tell me.”

“It feels... ah... so fucking good.” I pushed back to meet him, stockings sliding against the sheets. “You’re so thick… I can feel every inch. Please don’t stop.”

He’s so good at this. The way he angles his hips, the way he keeps me pinned with that hand in my hair...he knows exactly how to fuck a girl. He’s probably done this to plenty of them. And now it’s me. I’m the one bent over taking it, moaning about how good his cock feels like the slut I always knew I was.

He gave my ass another sharp spank without breaking rhythm.

“Louder. I want to hear you.”

“Your cock feels so good,” I said again, voice higher, needier. “Fuck... it’s perfect. Please keep fucking me like that.”

Kyle’s free hand slid up my back, grabbed a fistful of the bralette, and used it for leverage as he started pounding into me harder. The bed creaked. My ponytail was still locked in his other fist. Every deep stroke punched a helpless little sound out of me.

I stared at the mirror across the room and watched myself take it...stockings, lace, hair pulled back, mouth open...while the man old enough to be my father fucked me like he owned the right to.

And all I could think was how right it felt.

His rhythm turned rough and uneven.

He kept slamming into me hard enough that the bed frame knocked against the wall. Every thrust punched a broken little moan out of me. I could feel him getting closer...the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing went ragged against the back of my neck.

“Fuck... take it,” he growled, and then he buried himself to the hilt and came.

I felt the hot pulse of it deep inside me, thick and sudden. He held me there, hips pressed tight, cock throbbing as he emptied himself. For a few long seconds neither of us moved. The only sound was both of us breathing hard.

Then he pulled out all at once.

The sudden emptiness made me gasp. I heard him step back, the rustle of clothes, the hurried sound of a zipper. When I looked over my shoulder he was already buttoning his jeans, face tight, eyes not quite meeting mine.

“Shit.” He dragged a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his toolbox and the ladder and walked out. The front door closed a few seconds later, harder than necessary.

I stayed bent over the bed for a long moment, face against the sheets, his cum slowly leaking out of me and down the inside of one thigh.

Eventually I pushed myself up and sat on the edge of the mattress. My hands were shaking.

I looked down at myself and felt the same filthy heat that had been building all afternoon settle lower. I wrapped a hand around my cock, and started stroking.

It didn’t take long. I was already so worked up that every slide of my fist felt electric. I kept replaying it: the way he’d pulled my hair, the way he’d talked to me, the thick stretch of his cock, the exact moment he came inside me and then bolted like he couldn’t stand what he’d done.

He’s going to try to pretend this never happened. He’s going to act like a normal landlord again. But I felt how hard he was. I heard the way he groaned when he finished. He wanted it. He just got scared after.

I stroked faster, thumb smearing over the head, hips twitching.

I’ll get him again. I’ll make it impossible for him to keep calling it a mistake.

The orgasm hit hard. I came across my own fist and the sheets with a quiet, wrecked sound, still thinking about the next time I’d get his cock back inside me.

When it was over I just sat there, messy and breathing hard, already planning.

All characters are above the age of 18.

My weekend of fun was finally ready to begin.

Work had been a special kind of hell the past few weeks...endless meetings, passive aggressive emails, the constant low grade panic of deadlines that never quite went away. I needed to shut it all off. I needed to go all out and fuck myself proper.

I’d given in to my feminine desires years ago, though I’d never managed to do anything about them with another person. Maybe I was just a coward. Maybe I was just a pussy. Either way, I had a pretty extensive collection of women’s clothing tucked away in the spare bedroom, and today none of that self reflection was going to stop me.

I spent a long time in the shower, scrubbing until my skin was pink, then carefully shaved everything smooth. I dried my long hair and pulled it up into a high, tight ponytail that made my neck look longer. The outfit I’d chosen was simple but deliberate: a pale pink lace bralette, matching panties that sat high on my hips, sheer black stockings clipped to a thin garter belt. My favorite rainbow dildo waited on its floor mount in the middle of the spare bedroom, already slicked and ready.

I stood in front of the full length mirror for a minute, turning sideways, watching the way the light caught the lace and the curve of my ass. Then I sank down slowly onto the dildo, watching myself the entire time. The stretch made my mouth open. I wished it was real. I wished I wasn’t such a bitch about everything. I rode it harder, punishing myself for every wasted opportunity, every night I’d spent alone instead of finding someone who might actually want this version of me.

In the reflection I saw my landlord standing behind me.

“Oh God... I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean...”

I leapt up off the dildo so fast my knees nearly gave out. The wet sound it made leaving me was obscenely loud in the sudden silence. I spun around, face burning, heart slamming.

Shit. This is embarrassing.

Kyle stood there with his toolbox in one hand and a ladder under the other arm, frozen in place. His voice came out low and awkward. “I’m so sorry. There was a notice I sent last week that I’d be over to change the smoke alarms. I have to do it today.”

Fuck. I remembered reading that email and filing it away under “deal with later.” Guess it was kind of my fault.

I was still shaking when I managed to answer. “Okay. Go ahead.”

There was a pause. “I need to change the one in that room as well… I can come back later if you want.”

“No,” I said, too quickly. “It’s alright. Just... grab my robe off the bathroom door, please.”

He walked away, then returned a moment later and held the short black robe out to me. I took it while trying to keep most of my body angled away, yanked it on, and tied the belt. The hem barely reached mid thigh; the tops of my stockings still showed. Whatever. I grabbed the dildo off the floor mount and tried to shove it into the robe’s pocket. It was too thick; the head stuck out. I ended up clamping it against my side with my arm like some ridiculous, shiny rainbow secret.

Kyle had already moved across the hallway, carefully not looking at me. He carried the ladder into the spare bedroom and set to work. I stayed where I was, robe clutched closed, arm glued to my side, listening to the quiet sounds of him working...the ladder shifting, the soft click of the old detector coming down, the new one going up. A few minutes later he came back out, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“I really am sorry,” he said again. “I thought you knew.”

“It’s okay.”

That was when I noticed he was staring. Not at my face. At the way the short robe rode up when I shifted my weight, at the dark line of the garter straps against my thighs, at the flush still high on my cheeks. He caught himself and looked away, but not before I saw the unmistakable shape pressing against the front of his work pants.

My face went hotter. It can’t get any worse than this, right?

I untied the belt and let the robe fall open, then shrugged it off my shoulders entirely. It slid to the floor with a soft whisper of fabric.

I looked at him...really looked. Early forties, maybe pushing fifty, but solid in that quiet, capable way some men get. Salt and pepper stubble, strong forearms, the kind of face I’d fantasized about more than once when I was alone with the dildo and a head full of impossible scenarios. The hard outline in his jeans hadn’t gone away. If anything it looked thicker.

“You think I’m pretty?” I asked, voice smaller than I wanted it to be.

Kyle’s throat worked once before he answered.

“Yes,” he said, voice rough. He cleared it and tried again, still looking at me like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. “Yeah. You look… really pretty.”

The word landed heavier than it should have. My face burned hotter.

“Thanks,” I managed. “Sorry. I... I’ve never been seen like this.”

He nodded once, slow, eyes flicking down the length of me again before he forced them back up. “I can tell.” A short, nervous laugh escaped him. “Christ. I really didn’t mean to walk in on… that.”

“I know.” I shifted my weight, still holding the rainbow dildo against my hip like an idiot. The lace of the panties stuck to me where I’d been wet from riding it. “I forgot about the smoke alarms. Completely my fault.”

Kyle’s gaze dropped to the dildo for half a second, then away. His hand flexed at his side. “You don’t have to apologize for… looking the way you do.”

I swallowed. “Even like this?”

His eyes came back to mine. “Especially like this.”

The silence stretched. I could hear the soft creak of the floor under his boots when he shifted. The outline in his jeans hadn’t faded; if anything it looked more insistent now that we were standing this close with nothing between us but air and the pile of my discarded robe.

I let the dildo slip from under my arm and set it carefully on the hallway table without breaking eye contact. My hands felt empty and useless afterward.

“You’re staring,” I said quietly.

“Hard not to.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the motion making the muscles in his forearm stand out. “You’re standing there in… all that. And you asked if I thought you were pretty. I’m trying to be a decent landlord here, Aden.”

The way he said my name made something tight pull low in my stomach.

“And if you weren’t trying so hard to be decent?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened. He took one small step closer...not enough to close the space completely, but enough that I could smell the faint trace of whatever soap he used and the clean sweat from working. His voice dropped.

“Then I’d probably still be staring. And I’d be thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking about my tenant.”

I felt my pulse in my throat. “What kind of things?”

He looked at me for a long second, eyes dark, nervous energy still rolling off him in waves. “The kind that make it real fucking obvious why I can’t get this under control.” He glanced down at the front of his jeans, then back up, almost sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The words came out softer than I meant. I took a tiny step of my own, closing a little more of the distance. The tops of my stockings brushed against each other when I moved. “I’ve spent a long time wishing someone would look at me like this. Even if it’s… complicated.”

Kyle’s breath left him in a quiet exhale. His hand lifted halfway, like he might reach for me, then stopped in the air between us.

“Complicated is one word for it,” he said.

The way he looked at me made my stomach twist in the best and worst way at the same time.

I had spent years hiding this part of myself...locking it away in the spare bedroom, only letting it out when I was alone with the mirror and the dildo. No one had ever seen me like this. No one had ever stared at the lace and the stockings and the smooth skin and called me pretty with that low, rough voice. The attention sat heavy and hot under my ribs. It made me feel exposed and wanted in equal measure, like every secret fantasy I’d punished myself for was suddenly standing right in front of me in the shape of my landlord’s dark eyes and the unmistakable strain in his jeans.

I could feel my pulse between my legs. The wet fabric of the panties clung to me. My hands trembled slightly at my sides.

Kyle still hadn’t moved. His hand hovered in the space between us, fingers slightly curled, like he was fighting himself.

I licked my lips.

“You could do whatever you want to me,” I said.

The words came out quieter than I expected, but they were clear. I didn’t look away. I let him see exactly how serious I was.

His eyes sharpened. The nervous energy rolling off him shifted into something heavier.

“Aden…”

“I mean it.” My voice stayed soft. “I’ve never been looked at like this. Not once. And the way you’re looking at me right now...” I glanced down at the thick outline pressing against his jeans, then back up. “It makes me feel… wanted. In a way I didn’t think anyone would ever want me. So if you want to touch me, or tell me to turn around, or put me on my knees, or anything else… you can. I won’t stop you.”

Kyle’s breath left him in a slow, controlled exhale. His hand finally dropped, but not to his side. It settled lightly against the wall beside my head, boxing me in just enough that I had to tilt my chin up to keep meeting his eyes. The heat of his body was close now. I could smell the clean sweat on his skin.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he said, voice low.

“I do.” My heart was slamming so hard I was sure he could hear it. “I’ve thought about this exact kind of man doing this exact kind of thing to me more times than I can count. I’m just finally saying it out loud.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth for a second, then lower. When he looked back up, the nervousness was still there, but it was tangled with something darker and hungrier.

“And if I take you up on that?” he asked.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Then I’ll let you.”

Kyle’s hand left the wall and closed around my high ponytail.

He didn’t yank hard...just enough to tilt my head back and make me look up at him. The pull sent a sharp little spark down my spine. His other hand settled on my hip, fingers digging in through the thin lace of the panties.

“Say that again,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

“I’ll let you,” I whispered. “Anything you want.”

He used the grip in my hair to turn me around and press my chest against the hallway wall. The cool plaster kissed my nipples through the bralette. His body crowded in behind me, the hard line of his cock settling against the curve of my ass. One rough hand slid down and cupped me between the legs through the damp pink fabric, squeezing firmly.

“Already this worked up,” he muttered against the side of my neck. “You were riding that toy like a desperate little slut and now you’re offering yourself up the second someone catches you. That right?”

The words hit harder than the hand between my legs. My mind short circuited for a second.

Slut.  

I’d called myself that in my head a thousand times while I was alone. Hearing it out loud...from him...made something inside me open up and flood. And the fact that he was old enough to be my dad only made it worse. Or better. I couldn’t tell anymore.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He gave my ponytail another firm tug, forcing my back to arch. His free hand slipped inside the waistband of the panties from behind, two thick fingers finding the slick heat left over from the dildo and pushing in without warning. I gasped.

“Fuck, you’re still open from playing with yourself.” He worked his fingers in and out, slow and deliberate, the wet sound filthy in the quiet hallway. “Look at you. Bent over for your landlord like you’ve been waiting for it.”

My forehead rested against the wall. Every thrust of his fingers made my knees weaker. Inside my head the thoughts were racing, rearranging themselves in real time.

I’m letting him do this. I’m standing here in stockings and lace with his fingers inside me and I’m not stopping him. I’m pushing back onto them. He’s old enough to be my dad and I’m still taking it. I am a slut. I’m actually becoming the thing I’ve only ever pretended to be when I was alone.

The realization didn’t scare me. It only made me push back harder onto his hand.

Kyle pulled his fingers free, brought them up, and wiped the slick across my mouth.

“Taste it,” he said. “See how messy you got just from being called pretty.”

I licked without thinking. The taste of my own desperation and pure humiliation. He kept the grip in my hair and used it to walk me the few steps back into the spare bedroom, the one with the mirror still facing the floor mount. He bent me over the edge of the bed, one hand still fisted in my ponytail, the other delivering a sharp, open handed spank to my ass. The sting bloomed hot through the thin panties.

“Ass up. Keep those pretty stockings on.” Another smack, harder. “You’ve been playing house with that rainbow cock long enough. Time you got used to something that talks back.”

I arched for him automatically, face burning, mind spinning.

He’s spanking me. He’s talking to me like I’m nothing but a hole that dresses up pretty and I am letting him. He’s old enough to be my father and I’m still pushing my ass back for the next hit. I am a slut. Right now, in this room, I am exactly the kind of slut I always punished myself for wanting to be.

Kyle leaned over my back, mouth close to my ear, still holding my hair like a rein.

“You’re gonna take whatever I give you, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, voice already wrecked.

“Louder.”

“Yes.”

He spanked me again, right over the same spot, and I felt the last of my old careful self start to crack open under the heat of it.

Kyle’s hand left my ass after the last spank and went to his belt.

I heard the clink of the buckle, the slow drag of the zipper, the soft sound of fabric shifting. A moment later the thick, hot weight of his cock settled against the cleft of my ass, sliding up and down through the thin lace of the panties. He didn’t rush. He just dragged himself there, letting me feel every inch while he kept that steady grip on my ponytail.

“Pretty little thing,” he muttered. “All dressed up and already open for me.”

He hooked two fingers in the crotch of the panties and yanked them aside. The head of his cock nudged against my hole. He pushed in slow at first, just the head, then kept going until I felt every thick inch stretch me open.

My mouth fell open against the sheets.

He’s done this before. He has to have. The way he just takes what he wants, the way he doesn’t hesitate...he’s fucked other girls like this. Bent them over and filled them up the same way he’s filling me right now. I wonder how many. I wonder if they felt this full.

He bottomed out with a low groan and stayed there for a second, grinding deep like he wanted me to feel exactly how much of him was inside me. Then he pulled back and thrust in harder.

“Fuck...” The word left me in a broken little moan. “Your cock feels so good.”

Kyle’s grip tightened in my hair. He started fucking me in steady, deep strokes, the slap of his hips against my ass filling the room. Every thrust dragged another sound out of me.

“Yeah?” he said, voice rough. “Tell me.”

“It feels... ah... so fucking good.” I pushed back to meet him, stockings sliding against the sheets. “You’re so thick… I can feel every inch. Please don’t stop.”

He’s so good at this. The way he angles his hips, the way he keeps me pinned with that hand in my hair...he knows exactly how to fuck a girl. He’s probably done this to plenty of them. And now it’s me. I’m the one bent over taking it, moaning about how good his cock feels like the slut I always knew I was.

He gave my ass another sharp spank without breaking rhythm.

“Louder. I want to hear you.”

“Your cock feels so good,” I said again, voice higher, needier. “Fuck... it’s perfect. Please keep fucking me like that.”

Kyle’s free hand slid up my back, grabbed a fistful of the bralette, and used it for leverage as he started pounding into me harder. The bed creaked. My ponytail was still locked in his other fist. Every deep stroke punched a helpless little sound out of me.

I stared at the mirror across the room and watched myself take it...stockings, lace, hair pulled back, mouth open...while the man old enough to be my father fucked me like he owned the right to.

And all I could think was how right it felt.

His rhythm turned rough and uneven.

He kept slamming into me hard enough that the bed frame knocked against the wall. Every thrust punched a broken little moan out of me. I could feel him getting closer...the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing went ragged against the back of my neck.

“Fuck... take it,” he growled, and then he buried himself to the hilt and came.

I felt the hot pulse of it deep inside me, thick and sudden. He held me there, hips pressed tight, cock throbbing as he emptied himself. For a few long seconds neither of us moved. The only sound was both of us breathing hard.

Then he pulled out all at once.

The sudden emptiness made me gasp. I heard him step back, the rustle of clothes, the hurried sound of a zipper. When I looked over my shoulder he was already buttoning his jeans, face tight, eyes not quite meeting mine.

“Shit.” He dragged a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his toolbox and the ladder and walked out. The front door closed a few seconds later, harder than necessary.

I stayed bent over the bed for a long moment, face against the sheets, his cum slowly leaking out of me and down the inside of one thigh.

Eventually I pushed myself up and sat on the edge of the mattress. My hands were shaking.

I looked down at myself and felt the same filthy heat that had been building all afternoon settle lower. I wrapped a hand around my cock, and started stroking.

It didn’t take long. I was already so worked up that every slide of my fist felt electric. I kept replaying it: the way he’d pulled my hair, the way he’d talked to me, the thick stretch of his cock, the exact moment he came inside me and then bolted like he couldn’t stand what he’d done.

He’s going to try to pretend this never happened. He’s going to act like a normal landlord again. But I felt how hard he was. I heard the way he groaned when he finished. He wanted it. He just got scared after.

I stroked faster, thumb smearing over the head, hips twitching.

I’ll get him again. I’ll make it impossible for him to keep calling it a mistake.

The orgasm hit hard. I came across my own fist and the sheets with a quiet, wrecked sound, still thinking about the next time I’d get his cock back inside me.

When it was over I just sat there, messy and breathing hard, already planning.

All characters are above the age of 18.

My weekend of fun was finally ready to begin.

Work had been a special kind of hell the past few weeks...endless meetings, passive aggressive emails, the constant low grade panic of deadlines that never quite went away. I needed to shut it all off. I needed to go all out and fuck myself proper.

I’d given in to my feminine desires years ago, though I’d never managed to do anything about them with another person. Maybe I was just a coward. Maybe I was just a pussy. Either way, I had a pretty extensive collection of women’s clothing tucked away in the spare bedroom, and today none of that self reflection was going to stop me.

I spent a long time in the shower, scrubbing until my skin was pink, then carefully shaved everything smooth. I dried my long hair and pulled it up into a high, tight ponytail that made my neck look longer. The outfit I’d chosen was simple but deliberate: a pale pink lace bralette, matching panties that sat high on my hips, sheer black stockings clipped to a thin garter belt. My favorite rainbow dildo waited on its floor mount in the middle of the spare bedroom, already slicked and ready.

I stood in front of the full length mirror for a minute, turning sideways, watching the way the light caught the lace and the curve of my ass. Then I sank down slowly onto the dildo, watching myself the entire time. The stretch made my mouth open. I wished it was real. I wished I wasn’t such a bitch about everything. I rode it harder, punishing myself for every wasted opportunity, every night I’d spent alone instead of finding someone who might actually want this version of me.

In the reflection I saw my landlord standing behind me.

“Oh God... I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean...”

I leapt up off the dildo so fast my knees nearly gave out. The wet sound it made leaving me was obscenely loud in the sudden silence. I spun around, face burning, heart slamming.

Shit. This is embarrassing.

Kyle stood there with his toolbox in one hand and a ladder under the other arm, frozen in place. His voice came out low and awkward. “I’m so sorry. There was a notice I sent last week that I’d be over to change the smoke alarms. I have to do it today.”

Fuck. I remembered reading that email and filing it away under “deal with later.” Guess it was kind of my fault.

I was still shaking when I managed to answer. “Okay. Go ahead.”

There was a pause. “I need to change the one in that room as well… I can come back later if you want.”

“No,” I said, too quickly. “It’s alright. Just... grab my robe off the bathroom door, please.”

He walked away, then returned a moment later and held the short black robe out to me. I took it while trying to keep most of my body angled away, yanked it on, and tied the belt. The hem barely reached mid thigh; the tops of my stockings still showed. Whatever. I grabbed the dildo off the floor mount and tried to shove it into the robe’s pocket. It was too thick; the head stuck out. I ended up clamping it against my side with my arm like some ridiculous, shiny rainbow secret.

Kyle had already moved across the hallway, carefully not looking at me. He carried the ladder into the spare bedroom and set to work. I stayed where I was, robe clutched closed, arm glued to my side, listening to the quiet sounds of him working...the ladder shifting, the soft click of the old detector coming down, the new one going up. A few minutes later he came back out, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“I really am sorry,” he said again. “I thought you knew.”

“It’s okay.”

That was when I noticed he was staring. Not at my face. At the way the short robe rode up when I shifted my weight, at the dark line of the garter straps against my thighs, at the flush still high on my cheeks. He caught himself and looked away, but not before I saw the unmistakable shape pressing against the front of his work pants.

My face went hotter. It can’t get any worse than this, right?

I untied the belt and let the robe fall open, then shrugged it off my shoulders entirely. It slid to the floor with a soft whisper of fabric.

I looked at him...really looked. Early forties, maybe pushing fifty, but solid in that quiet, capable way some men get. Salt and pepper stubble, strong forearms, the kind of face I’d fantasized about more than once when I was alone with the dildo and a head full of impossible scenarios. The hard outline in his jeans hadn’t gone away. If anything it looked thicker.

“You think I’m pretty?” I asked, voice smaller than I wanted it to be.

Kyle’s throat worked once before he answered.

“Yes,” he said, voice rough. He cleared it and tried again, still looking at me like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. “Yeah. You look… really pretty.”

The word landed heavier than it should have. My face burned hotter.

“Thanks,” I managed. “Sorry. I... I’ve never been seen like this.”

He nodded once, slow, eyes flicking down the length of me again before he forced them back up. “I can tell.” A short, nervous laugh escaped him. “Christ. I really didn’t mean to walk in on… that.”

“I know.” I shifted my weight, still holding the rainbow dildo against my hip like an idiot. The lace of the panties stuck to me where I’d been wet from riding it. “I forgot about the smoke alarms. Completely my fault.”

Kyle’s gaze dropped to the dildo for half a second, then away. His hand flexed at his side. “You don’t have to apologize for… looking the way you do.”

I swallowed. “Even like this?”

His eyes came back to mine. “Especially like this.”

The silence stretched. I could hear the soft creak of the floor under his boots when he shifted. The outline in his jeans hadn’t faded; if anything it looked more insistent now that we were standing this close with nothing between us but air and the pile of my discarded robe.

I let the dildo slip from under my arm and set it carefully on the hallway table without breaking eye contact. My hands felt empty and useless afterward.

“You’re staring,” I said quietly.

“Hard not to.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the motion making the muscles in his forearm stand out. “You’re standing there in… all that. And you asked if I thought you were pretty. I’m trying to be a decent landlord here, Aden.”

The way he said my name made something tight pull low in my stomach.

“And if you weren’t trying so hard to be decent?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened. He took one small step closer...not enough to close the space completely, but enough that I could smell the faint trace of whatever soap he used and the clean sweat from working. His voice dropped.

“Then I’d probably still be staring. And I’d be thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking about my tenant.”

I felt my pulse in my throat. “What kind of things?”

He looked at me for a long second, eyes dark, nervous energy still rolling off him in waves. “The kind that make it real fucking obvious why I can’t get this under control.” He glanced down at the front of his jeans, then back up, almost sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The words came out softer than I meant. I took a tiny step of my own, closing a little more of the distance. The tops of my stockings brushed against each other when I moved. “I’ve spent a long time wishing someone would look at me like this. Even if it’s… complicated.”

Kyle’s breath left him in a quiet exhale. His hand lifted halfway, like he might reach for me, then stopped in the air between us.

“Complicated is one word for it,” he said.

The way he looked at me made my stomach twist in the best and worst way at the same time.

I had spent years hiding this part of myself...locking it away in the spare bedroom, only letting it out when I was alone with the mirror and the dildo. No one had ever seen me like this. No one had ever stared at the lace and the stockings and the smooth skin and called me pretty with that low, rough voice. The attention sat heavy and hot under my ribs. It made me feel exposed and wanted in equal measure, like every secret fantasy I’d punished myself for was suddenly standing right in front of me in the shape of my landlord’s dark eyes and the unmistakable strain in his jeans.

I could feel my pulse between my legs. The wet fabric of the panties clung to me. My hands trembled slightly at my sides.

Kyle still hadn’t moved. His hand hovered in the space between us, fingers slightly curled, like he was fighting himself.

I licked my lips.

“You could do whatever you want to me,” I said.

The words came out quieter than I expected, but they were clear. I didn’t look away. I let him see exactly how serious I was.

His eyes sharpened. The nervous energy rolling off him shifted into something heavier.

“Aden…”

“I mean it.” My voice stayed soft. “I’ve never been looked at like this. Not once. And the way you’re looking at me right now...” I glanced down at the thick outline pressing against his jeans, then back up. “It makes me feel… wanted. In a way I didn’t think anyone would ever want me. So if you want to touch me, or tell me to turn around, or put me on my knees, or anything else… you can. I won’t stop you.”

Kyle’s breath left him in a slow, controlled exhale. His hand finally dropped, but not to his side. It settled lightly against the wall beside my head, boxing me in just enough that I had to tilt my chin up to keep meeting his eyes. The heat of his body was close now. I could smell the clean sweat on his skin.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he said, voice low.

“I do.” My heart was slamming so hard I was sure he could hear it. “I’ve thought about this exact kind of man doing this exact kind of thing to me more times than I can count. I’m just finally saying it out loud.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth for a second, then lower. When he looked back up, the nervousness was still there, but it was tangled with something darker and hungrier.

“And if I take you up on that?” he asked.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Then I’ll let you.”

Kyle’s hand left the wall and closed around my high ponytail.

He didn’t yank hard...just enough to tilt my head back and make me look up at him. The pull sent a sharp little spark down my spine. His other hand settled on my hip, fingers digging in through the thin lace of the panties.

“Say that again,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

“I’ll let you,” I whispered. “Anything you want.”

He used the grip in my hair to turn me around and press my chest against the hallway wall. The cool plaster kissed my nipples through the bralette. His body crowded in behind me, the hard line of his cock settling against the curve of my ass. One rough hand slid down and cupped me between the legs through the damp pink fabric, squeezing firmly.

“Already this worked up,” he muttered against the side of my neck. “You were riding that toy like a desperate little slut and now you’re offering yourself up the second someone catches you. That right?”

The words hit harder than the hand between my legs. My mind short circuited for a second.

Slut.  

I’d called myself that in my head a thousand times while I was alone. Hearing it out loud...from him...made something inside me open up and flood. And the fact that he was old enough to be my dad only made it worse. Or better. I couldn’t tell anymore.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He gave my ponytail another firm tug, forcing my back to arch. His free hand slipped inside the waistband of the panties from behind, two thick fingers finding the slick heat left over from the dildo and pushing in without warning. I gasped.

“Fuck, you’re still open from playing with yourself.” He worked his fingers in and out, slow and deliberate, the wet sound filthy in the quiet hallway. “Look at you. Bent over for your landlord like you’ve been waiting for it.”

My forehead rested against the wall. Every thrust of his fingers made my knees weaker. Inside my head the thoughts were racing, rearranging themselves in real time.

I’m letting him do this. I’m standing here in stockings and lace with his fingers inside me and I’m not stopping him. I’m pushing back onto them. He’s old enough to be my dad and I’m still taking it. I am a slut. I’m actually becoming the thing I’ve only ever pretended to be when I was alone.

The realization didn’t scare me. It only made me push back harder onto his hand.

Kyle pulled his fingers free, brought them up, and wiped the slick across my mouth.

“Taste it,” he said. “See how messy you got just from being called pretty.”

I licked without thinking. The taste of my own desperation and pure humiliation. He kept the grip in my hair and used it to walk me the few steps back into the spare bedroom, the one with the mirror still facing the floor mount. He bent me over the edge of the bed, one hand still fisted in my ponytail, the other delivering a sharp, open handed spank to my ass. The sting bloomed hot through the thin panties.

“Ass up. Keep those pretty stockings on.” Another smack, harder. “You’ve been playing house with that rainbow cock long enough. Time you got used to something that talks back.”

I arched for him automatically, face burning, mind spinning.

He’s spanking me. He’s talking to me like I’m nothing but a hole that dresses up pretty and I am letting him. He’s old enough to be my father and I’m still pushing my ass back for the next hit. I am a slut. Right now, in this room, I am exactly the kind of slut I always punished myself for wanting to be.

Kyle leaned over my back, mouth close to my ear, still holding my hair like a rein.

“You’re gonna take whatever I give you, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, voice already wrecked.

“Louder.”

“Yes.”

He spanked me again, right over the same spot, and I felt the last of my old careful self start to crack open under the heat of it.

Kyle’s hand left my ass after the last spank and went to his belt.

I heard the clink of the buckle, the slow drag of the zipper, the soft sound of fabric shifting. A moment later the thick, hot weight of his cock settled against the cleft of my ass, sliding up and down through the thin lace of the panties. He didn’t rush. He just dragged himself there, letting me feel every inch while he kept that steady grip on my ponytail.

“Pretty little thing,” he muttered. “All dressed up and already open for me.”

He hooked two fingers in the crotch of the panties and yanked them aside. The head of his cock nudged against my hole. He pushed in slow at first, just the head, then kept going until I felt every thick inch stretch me open.

My mouth fell open against the sheets.

He’s done this before. He has to have. The way he just takes what he wants, the way he doesn’t hesitate...he’s fucked other girls like this. Bent them over and filled them up the same way he’s filling me right now. I wonder how many. I wonder if they felt this full.

He bottomed out with a low groan and stayed there for a second, grinding deep like he wanted me to feel exactly how much of him was inside me. Then he pulled back and thrust in harder.

“Fuck...” The word left me in a broken little moan. “Your cock feels so good.”

Kyle’s grip tightened in my hair. He started fucking me in steady, deep strokes, the slap of his hips against my ass filling the room. Every thrust dragged another sound out of me.

“Yeah?” he said, voice rough. “Tell me.”

“It feels... ah... so fucking good.” I pushed back to meet him, stockings sliding against the sheets. “You’re so thick… I can feel every inch. Please don’t stop.”

He’s so good at this. The way he angles his hips, the way he keeps me pinned with that hand in my hair...he knows exactly how to fuck a girl. He’s probably done this to plenty of them. And now it’s me. I’m the one bent over taking it, moaning about how good his cock feels like the slut I always knew I was.

He gave my ass another sharp spank without breaking rhythm.

“Louder. I want to hear you.”

“Your cock feels so good,” I said again, voice higher, needier. “Fuck... it’s perfect. Please keep fucking me like that.”

Kyle’s free hand slid up my back, grabbed a fistful of the bralette, and used it for leverage as he started pounding into me harder. The bed creaked. My ponytail was still locked in his other fist. Every deep stroke punched a helpless little sound out of me.

I stared at the mirror across the room and watched myself take it...stockings, lace, hair pulled back, mouth open...while the man old enough to be my father fucked me like he owned the right to.

And all I could think was how right it felt.

His rhythm turned rough and uneven.

He kept slamming into me hard enough that the bed frame knocked against the wall. Every thrust punched a broken little moan out of me. I could feel him getting closer...the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing went ragged against the back of my neck.

“Fuck... take it,” he growled, and then he buried himself to the hilt and came.

I felt the hot pulse of it deep inside me, thick and sudden. He held me there, hips pressed tight, cock throbbing as he emptied himself. For a few long seconds neither of us moved. The only sound was both of us breathing hard.

Then he pulled out all at once.

The sudden emptiness made me gasp. I heard him step back, the rustle of clothes, the hurried sound of a zipper. When I looked over my shoulder he was already buttoning his jeans, face tight, eyes not quite meeting mine.

“Shit.” He dragged a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his toolbox and the ladder and walked out. The front door closed a few seconds later, harder than necessary.

I stayed bent over the bed for a long moment, face against the sheets, his cum slowly leaking out of me and down the inside of one thigh.

Eventually I pushed myself up and sat on the edge of the mattress. My hands were shaking.

I looked down at myself and felt the same filthy heat that had been building all afternoon settle lower. I wrapped a hand around my cock, and started stroking.

It didn’t take long. I was already so worked up that every slide of my fist felt electric. I kept replaying it: the way he’d pulled my hair, the way he’d talked to me, the thick stretch of his cock, the exact moment he came inside me and then bolted like he couldn’t stand what he’d done.

He’s going to try to pretend this never happened. He’s going to act like a normal landlord again. But I felt how hard he was. I heard the way he groaned when he finished. He wanted it. He just got scared after.

I stroked faster, thumb smearing over the head, hips twitching.

I’ll get him again. I’ll make it impossible for him to keep calling it a mistake.

The orgasm hit hard. I came across my own fist and the sheets with a quiet, wrecked sound, still thinking about the next time I’d get his cock back inside me.

When it was over I just sat there, messy and breathing hard, already planning.

All characters are above the age of 18

The rain had been coming down in sheets for hours, the kind that turned the interstate into a river and made the windshield wipers sound like they were fighting a losing battle. Dale and I had left Florida two days earlier with a cooler full of snacks, a playlist that bounced between old hip hop and terrible country, and the mutual understanding that Las Vegas was going to be stupid, expensive, and exactly what we needed.

By the time the storm trapped us somewhere in the middle of nowhere Alabama, every chain hotel within fifty miles was showing fully booked. Dale’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I kept refreshing my phone like the next search would magically produce a suite with two beds and a minibar.

Finally one place answered.

“We have one room left,” the tired sounding clerk said. “Queen bed. Take it or leave it.”

Dale glanced at me. I shrugged. We were soaked, exhausted, and the alternative was sleeping in the car while thunder rolled overhead.

“We’ll take it.”

The lobby smelled like wet carpet and old coffee. We dripped our way to the front desk, signed whatever papers they shoved at us, and rode the elevator in silence. Room 214 was small, clean enough, and dominated by a single queen bed that looked like it had been made by someone who hated their job.

Dale kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the bathroom with his duffel. I peeled off my soaked hoodie and jeans, left them in a heap by the door, and dug into my bag. Everything I’d packed for underwear were panties or thongs, a whole bunch of them. I’d wanted to feel a little naughty on the trip. I was single so this was my quiet way of keeping something for myself. I’d brought a pair of loose sleep shorts too, just so I could pull them on over my underwear and keep the secret.

I stepped into one of the thongs quickly, tugging the thin string up between my cheeks, the small triangle of fabric stretching tight across the front. I was reaching for the shorts when the bathroom door opened sooner than I expected.

Dale stepped out in gray boxers and an old T shirt, hair still damp. He stopped dead.

His eyes dropped straight to the thong.

For a second neither of us moved. Rain hammered the window. My face burned.

“I… yeah,” I said, voice quieter than I meant it to be. “I only packed these for the trip. Wanted to feel a little naughty. Haven’t had much luck in the boyfriend department, so… I like how they feel. I brought the shorts so you wouldn’t see, but...”

Dale’s expression didn’t change much...just a slow blink, then a small, almost careful nod.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable man..”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The sleep shorts were still in my hand, but after that reaction it felt pointless to hide behind them. I tossed them onto the chair.

“Guess I’m sleeping in these then.”

He shrugged, already climbing onto the bed. “Whatever. Not like I’m gonna care.”

I grinned, the tension easing. “Relax. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m gonna hop on your dick the second you see me in a thong.”

He snorted. “Fuck you.”  

The words were soft, familiar. Years ago, when I finally told him I was into guys, he’d gone quiet for a long minute, then pulled me into a rough one armed hug and said, “You’re still my best friend, dipshit. Anybody gives you shit, I’ll break their face.” He’d meant it. He’d never once made it weird after that...except for the occasional nervous joke when we changed in the same room.  

Tonight the joke landed lighter than usual.  

We both climbed under the covers. The mattress dipped in the middle, pulling us closer than either of us pretended to notice. Dale stared at the ceiling.  

“This weather sucks.”  

“Yeah,” I said. “Hopefully it passes by morning.”  

I turned onto my side, back to him, and closed my eyes.  

I woke sometime in the dark to the solid weight of an arm draped over my waist and the unmistakable press of a hard cock against the curve of my ass.  

Dale’s breath was slow and even against the back of my neck. For a long second I just lay there, heart kicking, every nerve suddenly awake.  

It should have been awkward. It wasn’t.  

I shifted my hips the smallest amount...just enough to drag the length of him against me. Once. Twice. Slow.  

His breathing changed.  

I did it again, deliberate this time, rolling my ass back so the hard ridge of his cock nestled right between my cheeks. A quiet sound escaped him, half sigh, half something else. His arm tightened. Shit! What the fuck was I doing?

Then I looked over my shoulder.  

His eyes were open. Wide. Frozen.  

Neither of us spoke.  

Then I felt bold and I reached behind me, slipped my hand under the waistband of his boxers, and wrapped my fingers around him. Thick. Hot. Already leaking.  

“You want me to stop?” I whispered.  

His voice came out rough. “No.”  

I stroked him slow, just the way I liked it done to me...long pulls from base to tip, thumb sliding over the head to spread the wetness. His hips twitched forward into my fist. The arm around my waist pulled me tighter against him until there was no space left between us.  

I kept stroking, listening to the way his breath hitched every time I twisted my wrist just so. Then I shifted, sliding down under the covers, the sheets whispering against my skin.  

His cock sprang free when I tugged his boxers down. Even in the dark I could feel how big he was...thicker than I’d expected, heavy in my hand. I licked a stripe up the underside, tasted salt and clean skin, then took him into my mouth.  

Dale’s whole body went rigid.  

I sucked him slow at first, getting used to the stretch of my lips around him, the way the head pressed against the roof of my mouth. His hand found the back of my head, not pushing, just resting there like he needed something to hold onto. I took him deeper, humming around the thickness, and felt his thighs tremble.  

He made a low moan.  

I didn’t stop. I worked him with everything I had...tongue swirling, cheeks hollowed, one hand stroking what I couldn’t fit. The wet sounds filled the quiet room. His hips started moving in short, helpless thrusts. I relaxed my throat and let him slide deeper until my nose brushed the soft hair at the base.  

He came with a low, punched out groan, pulsing hard against my tongue. I swallowed every drop, kept sucking gently through the aftershocks until he twitched and pulled back with a shaky breath.  

I crawled back up the bed, heart still racing, mouth tasting like him. Dale didn’t say anything. He just opened his arm and let me settle against his chest, my back to his front the way we’d been when I woke up. His cock...soft now...rested against the curve of my ass. His arm stayed heavy across my waist.  

I listened to his breathing even out again.  

Outside, the rain kept falling.  

I stared at the dark ceiling and wondered what the hell morning was going to look like.

All characters are above the age of 18

The rain had been coming down in sheets for hours, the kind that turned the interstate into a river and made the windshield wipers sound like they were fighting a losing battle. Dale and I had left Florida two days earlier with a cooler full of snacks, a playlist that bounced between old hip hop and terrible country, and the mutual understanding that Las Vegas was going to be stupid, expensive, and exactly what we needed.

By the time the storm trapped us somewhere in the middle of nowhere Alabama, every chain hotel within fifty miles was showing fully booked. Dale’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I kept refreshing my phone like the next search would magically produce a suite with two beds and a minibar.

Finally one place answered.

“We have one room left,” the tired sounding clerk said. “Queen bed. Take it or leave it.”

Dale glanced at me. I shrugged. We were soaked, exhausted, and the alternative was sleeping in the car while thunder rolled overhead.

“We’ll take it.”

The lobby smelled like wet carpet and old coffee. We dripped our way to the front desk, signed whatever papers they shoved at us, and rode the elevator in silence. Room 214 was small, clean enough, and dominated by a single queen bed that looked like it had been made by someone who hated their job.

Dale kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the bathroom with his duffel. I peeled off my soaked hoodie and jeans, left them in a heap by the door, and dug into my bag. Everything I’d packed for underwear were panties or thongs, a whole bunch of them. I’d wanted to feel a little naughty on the trip. I was single so this was my quiet way of keeping something for myself. I’d brought a pair of loose sleep shorts too, just so I could pull them on over my underwear and keep the secret.

I stepped into one of the thongs quickly, tugging the thin string up between my cheeks, the small triangle of fabric stretching tight across the front. I was reaching for the shorts when the bathroom door opened sooner than I expected.

Dale stepped out in gray boxers and an old T shirt, hair still damp. He stopped dead.

His eyes dropped straight to the thong.

For a second neither of us moved. Rain hammered the window. My face burned.

“I… yeah,” I said, voice quieter than I meant it to be. “I only packed these for the trip. Wanted to feel a little naughty. Haven’t had much luck in the boyfriend department, so… I like how they feel. I brought the shorts so you wouldn’t see, but...”

Dale’s expression didn’t change much...just a slow blink, then a small, almost careful nod.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable man..”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The sleep shorts were still in my hand, but after that reaction it felt pointless to hide behind them. I tossed them onto the chair.

“Guess I’m sleeping in these then.”

He shrugged, already climbing onto the bed. “Whatever. Not like I’m gonna care.”

I grinned, the tension easing. “Relax. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m gonna hop on your dick the second you see me in a thong.”

He snorted. “Fuck you.”  

The words were soft, familiar. Years ago, when I finally told him I was into guys, he’d gone quiet for a long minute, then pulled me into a rough one armed hug and said, “You’re still my best friend, dipshit. Anybody gives you shit, I’ll break their face.” He’d meant it. He’d never once made it weird after that...except for the occasional nervous joke when we changed in the same room.  

Tonight the joke landed lighter than usual.  

We both climbed under the covers. The mattress dipped in the middle, pulling us closer than either of us pretended to notice. Dale stared at the ceiling.  

“This weather sucks.”  

“Yeah,” I said. “Hopefully it passes by morning.”  

I turned onto my side, back to him, and closed my eyes.  

I woke sometime in the dark to the solid weight of an arm draped over my waist and the unmistakable press of a hard cock against the curve of my ass.  

Dale’s breath was slow and even against the back of my neck. For a long second I just lay there, heart kicking, every nerve suddenly awake.  

It should have been awkward. It wasn’t.  

I shifted my hips the smallest amount...just enough to drag the length of him against me. Once. Twice. Slow.  

His breathing changed.  

I did it again, deliberate this time, rolling my ass back so the hard ridge of his cock nestled right between my cheeks. A quiet sound escaped him, half sigh, half something else. His arm tightened. Shit! What the fuck was I doing?

Then I looked over my shoulder.  

His eyes were open. Wide. Frozen.  

Neither of us spoke.  

Then I felt bold and I reached behind me, slipped my hand under the waistband of his boxers, and wrapped my fingers around him. Thick. Hot. Already leaking.  

“You want me to stop?” I whispered.  

His voice came out rough. “No.”  

I stroked him slow, just the way I liked it done to me...long pulls from base to tip, thumb sliding over the head to spread the wetness. His hips twitched forward into my fist. The arm around my waist pulled me tighter against him until there was no space left between us.  

I kept stroking, listening to the way his breath hitched every time I twisted my wrist just so. Then I shifted, sliding down under the covers, the sheets whispering against my skin.  

His cock sprang free when I tugged his boxers down. Even in the dark I could feel how big he was...thicker than I’d expected, heavy in my hand. I licked a stripe up the underside, tasted salt and clean skin, then took him into my mouth.  

Dale’s whole body went rigid.  

I sucked him slow at first, getting used to the stretch of my lips around him, the way the head pressed against the roof of my mouth. His hand found the back of my head, not pushing, just resting there like he needed something to hold onto. I took him deeper, humming around the thickness, and felt his thighs tremble.  

He made a low moan.  

I didn’t stop. I worked him with everything I had...tongue swirling, cheeks hollowed, one hand stroking what I couldn’t fit. The wet sounds filled the quiet room. His hips started moving in short, helpless thrusts. I relaxed my throat and let him slide deeper until my nose brushed the soft hair at the base.  

He came with a low, punched out groan, pulsing hard against my tongue. I swallowed every drop, kept sucking gently through the aftershocks until he twitched and pulled back with a shaky breath.  

I crawled back up the bed, heart still racing, mouth tasting like him. Dale didn’t say anything. He just opened his arm and let me settle against his chest, my back to his front the way we’d been when I woke up. His cock...soft now...rested against the curve of my ass. His arm stayed heavy across my waist.  

I listened to his breathing even out again.  

Outside, the rain kept falling.  

I stared at the dark ceiling and wondered what the hell morning was going to look like.

All characters are above the age of 18.

My parents had me late in life… both of them already in their late forties. Mom passed while I was in college, Dad a few years after that. They were good to me. Accepting when I came out. Left me the old house and enough from their retirement accounts that I was set. I worked from home doing data analysis, made decent money, and didn’t have to stress much.

The house still looked like the seventies though. Dark wood, outdated everything. I wanted it updated, more contemporary. So I hired a contractor named Sloan.

We met, went over the plans, and once the work started it moved pretty fast. The noise was annoying but expected. I wasn’t seeing anyone anyway, so I just worked around their schedule. At the end of each day Sloan would walk me through what they’d done.

One afternoon after the crew packed up, I was covered in dust so I went straight to the shower. When I got out I realized most of my clean clothes were still in the laundry room. I threw on a thong and headed downstairs.

Sloan was standing there with his tool bag.

“I thought you guys were gone for the day,” I said.

“Left a bag here. Came back for it. Figured I’d go over a couple change orders with you.” He was looking at me, then turned away. I smiled a little.

“Sorry, this is awkward.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Let me grab my robe.”

I went to the laundry room, put it on, and came back. He seemed off… less of that usual confident, masculine energy.

“You alright, Sloan?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m not gay. You just had a nice ass. Haven’t been with anyone since my wife left.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “I haven’t had a good lay in a while either.”

That cut the tension. We went over the changes, settled on what still needed doing. He stood up to leave.

Before he got to the door I said, “Hey, if you ever wanted to fuck something, I’m down.”

He turned slowly. “No offense. I’m just not into guys.”

“You said I have a nice ass, right? No judgment. I’m just saying I’m willing.”

I stood up, took the robe off, and laid it over the chair.

“I’m heading upstairs. If you decide to, I’ll be waiting in my room.”

I went up without saying anything else.

In my room I just stood there for a second. Couldn’t believe I actually said that. No way he takes me up on it.

Then I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Holy shit.

I grabbed a towel and some lube from the side drawer, tossed them on the bed, and got on all fours facing away from the door right as he walked in.

Sloan stood in the doorway longer than I expected. Long enough that I almost second guessed the whole thing and started to push myself up. Then he stepped inside and shut the door.

He didn’t rush. Just walked over, stood behind me for a second, and ran one hand down the curve of my ass. Still in the thong. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and dragged it down slowly, like he was giving himself time to decide. I heard his belt, the zipper, the soft sound of him getting his cock out. When the head of it pressed against me it was already hard.

He grabbed the lube, slicked up, and pushed in. Not gentle, not rough… just steady pressure until he was buried. He stayed there a moment, breathing through his nose, hands resting on my hips. Then he started moving.

It wasn’t frantic. It was the kind of fucking a guy does when he’s been holding something back for a while and finally lets it out. Deep, deliberate strokes that filled me completely every time. The bed creaked under us. His grip tightened when I pushed back against him. A low sound left his throat… half groan, half disbelief.

He leaned over me after a while, one forearm braced beside my shoulder, the other still locked on my hip. His breath was warm against the side of my neck. He didn’t talk much. Just the occasional quiet “fuck” when I clenched around him.

I came first, sudden and messy, spilling onto the towel without ever touching myself. My body locked up around his cock and he kept going, fucking me through it until his rhythm broke. A few hard, uneven thrusts and he came with a rough exhale against my skin, filling me deep.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just stayed there, chest rising and falling against my back, like he needed a second to come back to himself. When he finally did pull out I felt the warmth of him start to leak down my thigh. I stayed on my stomach, legs a little unsteady.

Sloan sat on the edge of the bed, jeans still open, staring at the floor for a minute. Then he fixed his pants and stood.

“I should grab that bag,” he said. Voice quieter than usual.

I turned my head enough to look at him. “You know where the room is if you need anything else.”

He nodded once, almost to himself, and left.

A couple days later the crew was working on the upstairs hallway. Sloan asked if I could clear out some of the stuff in the spare room so they could get better access. Most of it was just boxes and clothes I hadn’t sorted in years, so I started carrying things down to the laundry room to get them out of the way. Sloan ended up helping once he saw how much there was.

We were stacking the last few boxes when one of them tipped and a few things spilled out...lace panties, a couple of bras, a short skirt, some sheer tops. Definitely not the kind of clothes most guys kept around.

Sloan paused, looking down at the pile for a second before glancing at me.

“You got a girlfriend I don’t know about?” he asked, half joking.

I crouched down and started putting the clothes back in the box. “No. They’re mine.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just watched me for a moment.

“I keep a lot of it,” I added, keeping my voice casual. “Depends on the mood. Sometimes I like dressing more feminine.”

Sloan nodded slowly, still processing. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, but I could tell he’d filed that information away. We finished moving the rest of the boxes without bringing it up again.

A few days had passed after that and Sloan still hadn’t said a word about what happened between us. No lingering looks, no hints, nothing. I decided to turn it up a notch.

I started dressing a little more feminine. Hair up in a messy bun, softer clothes, just enough to look cute. I don’t mind being the girl if that’s what someone wants. I just want to be dominated. Maybe I was toeing a dangerous line, but when I walked around the job site I could feel the other guys noticing. That was something to note.

Still nothing from Sloan. So I got braver. Cute little skirt and a spaghetti strap top. The crew was being very polite, but I could tell I was having an effect on them.

Sloan finally pulled me aside, alone on the far side of the house.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What?” I said.

“The way you’re dressing. It’s distracting the guys.”

“Is it distracting the guys,” I asked, “or is it distracting you?”

He looked at me intensely. “Both.”

I smiled. “So what? It’s my house. You obviously don’t have any interest in me… or do you?”

He didn’t answer. I reached down and put my hand on his crotch.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Sloan’s jaw tightened. For a second he just stared at me, then he grabbed my arm, spun me around, and bent me over the nearest workbench.

He shoved the skirt up, yanked my underwear down, and I heard his belt and zipper. No lube this time, just spit and the rough press of him pushing inside me in one hard thrust. I gripped the edge of the bench as he started fucking me deep and fast, the kind of pace that made my legs shake.

He didn’t say a word. Just kept one hand locked on my hip and the other between my shoulder blades, holding me down while he pounded into me. Every thrust hit hard enough to rock the bench and knock the breath out of me. The little skirt was bunched up around my waist, the spaghetti straps slipping off my shoulders.

I came first, biting down on my arm to stay quiet, my body tightening around him. That only made him go harder.

That’s when we heard the footsteps.

One of the crew guys...Dex...came around the corner of the house carrying a box of supplies. He froze mid step when he saw us. Sloan still buried in me, my skirt pushed up, both of us clearly in the middle of it.

Dex’s eyes went wide. He just stood there for a second, then muttered, “Shit… sorry,” and quickly turned around, disappearing back the way he came.

Sloan didn’t stop right away. He finished with a few more rough thrusts, coming deep inside me with a low grunt, then finally pulled out. He fixed his pants fast, face tight.

“Get your shit together and go inside,” he said under his breath. “Now.”

I pulled my underwear up with shaky hands, smoothed the skirt down, and walked back toward the house without looking at him. My legs still felt weak, and I could feel him leaking down my thigh the whole way.

All characters are above the age of 18.

My parents had me late in life… both of them already in their late forties. Mom passed while I was in college, Dad a few years after that. They were good to me. Accepting when I came out. Left me the old house and enough from their retirement accounts that I was set. I worked from home doing data analysis, made decent money, and didn’t have to stress much.

The house still looked like the seventies though. Dark wood, outdated everything. I wanted it updated, more contemporary. So I hired a contractor named Sloan.

We met, went over the plans, and once the work started it moved pretty fast. The noise was annoying but expected. I wasn’t seeing anyone anyway, so I just worked around their schedule. At the end of each day Sloan would walk me through what they’d done.

One afternoon after the crew packed up, I was covered in dust so I went straight to the shower. When I got out I realized most of my clean clothes were still in the laundry room. I threw on a thong and headed downstairs.

Sloan was standing there with his tool bag.

“I thought you guys were gone for the day,” I said.

“Left a bag here. Came back for it. Figured I’d go over a couple change orders with you.” He was looking at me, then turned away. I smiled a little.

“Sorry, this is awkward.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Let me grab my robe.”

I went to the laundry room, put it on, and came back. He seemed off… less of that usual confident, masculine energy.

“You alright, Sloan?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m not gay. You just had a nice ass. Haven’t been with anyone since my wife left.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “I haven’t had a good lay in a while either.”

That cut the tension. We went over the changes, settled on what still needed doing. He stood up to leave.

Before he got to the door I said, “Hey, if you ever wanted to fuck something, I’m down.”

He turned slowly. “No offense. I’m just not into guys.”

“You said I have a nice ass, right? No judgment. I’m just saying I’m willing.”

I stood up, took the robe off, and laid it over the chair.

“I’m heading upstairs. If you decide to, I’ll be waiting in my room.”

I went up without saying anything else.

In my room I just stood there for a second. Couldn’t believe I actually said that. No way he takes me up on it.

Then I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Holy shit.

I grabbed a towel and some lube from the side drawer, tossed them on the bed, and got on all fours facing away from the door right as he walked in.

Sloan stood in the doorway longer than I expected. Long enough that I almost second guessed the whole thing and started to push myself up. Then he stepped inside and shut the door.

He didn’t rush. Just walked over, stood behind me for a second, and ran one hand down the curve of my ass. Still in the thong. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and dragged it down slowly, like he was giving himself time to decide. I heard his belt, the zipper, the soft sound of him getting his cock out. When the head of it pressed against me it was already hard.

He grabbed the lube, slicked up, and pushed in. Not gentle, not rough… just steady pressure until he was buried. He stayed there a moment, breathing through his nose, hands resting on my hips. Then he started moving.

It wasn’t frantic. It was the kind of fucking a guy does when he’s been holding something back for a while and finally lets it out. Deep, deliberate strokes that filled me completely every time. The bed creaked under us. His grip tightened when I pushed back against him. A low sound left his throat… half groan, half disbelief.

He leaned over me after a while, one forearm braced beside my shoulder, the other still locked on my hip. His breath was warm against the side of my neck. He didn’t talk much. Just the occasional quiet “fuck” when I clenched around him.

I came first, sudden and messy, spilling onto the towel without ever touching myself. My body locked up around his cock and he kept going, fucking me through it until his rhythm broke. A few hard, uneven thrusts and he came with a rough exhale against my skin, filling me deep.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just stayed there, chest rising and falling against my back, like he needed a second to come back to himself. When he finally did pull out I felt the warmth of him start to leak down my thigh. I stayed on my stomach, legs a little unsteady.

Sloan sat on the edge of the bed, jeans still open, staring at the floor for a minute. Then he fixed his pants and stood.

“I should grab that bag,” he said. Voice quieter than usual.

I turned my head enough to look at him. “You know where the room is if you need anything else.”

He nodded once, almost to himself, and left.

A couple days later the crew was working on the upstairs hallway. Sloan asked if I could clear out some of the stuff in the spare room so they could get better access. Most of it was just boxes and clothes I hadn’t sorted in years, so I started carrying things down to the laundry room to get them out of the way. Sloan ended up helping once he saw how much there was.

We were stacking the last few boxes when one of them tipped and a few things spilled out...lace panties, a couple of bras, a short skirt, some sheer tops. Definitely not the kind of clothes most guys kept around.

Sloan paused, looking down at the pile for a second before glancing at me.

“You got a girlfriend I don’t know about?” he asked, half joking.

I crouched down and started putting the clothes back in the box. “No. They’re mine.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just watched me for a moment.

“I keep a lot of it,” I added, keeping my voice casual. “Depends on the mood. Sometimes I like dressing more feminine.”

Sloan nodded slowly, still processing. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, but I could tell he’d filed that information away. We finished moving the rest of the boxes without bringing it up again.

A few days had passed after that and Sloan still hadn’t said a word about what happened between us. No lingering looks, no hints, nothing. I decided to turn it up a notch.

I started dressing a little more feminine. Hair up in a messy bun, softer clothes, just enough to look cute. I don’t mind being the girl if that’s what someone wants. I just want to be dominated. Maybe I was toeing a dangerous line, but when I walked around the job site I could feel the other guys noticing. That was something to note.

Still nothing from Sloan. So I got braver. Cute little skirt and a spaghetti strap top. The crew was being very polite, but I could tell I was having an effect on them.

Sloan finally pulled me aside, alone on the far side of the house.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What?” I said.

“The way you’re dressing. It’s distracting the guys.”

“Is it distracting the guys,” I asked, “or is it distracting you?”

He looked at me intensely. “Both.”

I smiled. “So what? It’s my house. You obviously don’t have any interest in me… or do you?”

He didn’t answer. I reached down and put my hand on his crotch.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Sloan’s jaw tightened. For a second he just stared at me, then he grabbed my arm, spun me around, and bent me over the nearest workbench.

He shoved the skirt up, yanked my underwear down, and I heard his belt and zipper. No lube this time, just spit and the rough press of him pushing inside me in one hard thrust. I gripped the edge of the bench as he started fucking me deep and fast, the kind of pace that made my legs shake.

He didn’t say a word. Just kept one hand locked on my hip and the other between my shoulder blades, holding me down while he pounded into me. Every thrust hit hard enough to rock the bench and knock the breath out of me. The little skirt was bunched up around my waist, the spaghetti straps slipping off my shoulders.

I came first, biting down on my arm to stay quiet, my body tightening around him. That only made him go harder.

That’s when we heard the footsteps.

One of the crew guys...Dex...came around the corner of the house carrying a box of supplies. He froze mid step when he saw us. Sloan still buried in me, my skirt pushed up, both of us clearly in the middle of it.

Dex’s eyes went wide. He just stood there for a second, then muttered, “Shit… sorry,” and quickly turned around, disappearing back the way he came.

Sloan didn’t stop right away. He finished with a few more rough thrusts, coming deep inside me with a low grunt, then finally pulled out. He fixed his pants fast, face tight.

“Get your shit together and go inside,” he said under his breath. “Now.”

I pulled my underwear up with shaky hands, smoothed the skirt down, and walked back toward the house without looking at him. My legs still felt weak, and I could feel him leaking down my thigh the whole way.

All characters are above the age of 18.

The big Halloween party was the only night of the year I let myself do this. I was super pumped. Most nights I stayed in safer clothes, the ones that didn’t turn heads, but Halloween gave me an excuse. I put the outfit together carefully: a tiny white hatter top tied tight under my chest, a short denim skirt that barely covered anything when I moved, scuffed brown cowboy boots, a wide belt with a heavy buckle, and a black hat tilted just right. Makeup softened my jaw and made my lips look fuller. When I looked in the mirror I felt sexy and free in a way I rarely allowed myself.

Jenny and Amelia were waiting downstairs. They were dressed as a nurse and a vampire, both already smiling when they saw me.

“God damn, boy,” Jenny said, circling me. “You look fucking fire.”

Amelia nodded. “Complete trap. If the boys don’t lose their minds tonight I’m quitting.”

I laughed. “Thank you. It may or may not work out. I don’t care. I just… feel good.”

The party was packed and loud. Bass shook the floors. I danced. First with the girls, then with whoever drifted close. Hands found my waist, my hips. One guy pressed up behind me and started grinding slow and dirty against the short skirt. I leaned into it, rolling my ass back against him, feeling him get hard through his jeans. We moved together like that for a while, the music and the heat and the attention making me bold. Then I turned around.

Horror hit both our faces at the same time.

Ash.

My friend. The one who’d known me for years.

“Ash?”

“Robin?”

He jerked back like he’d been burned. “Shit...I’m sorry. I thought you were just another girl. I didn’t know it was you.”

I swallowed. “It’s okay.”

He stared a second longer...eyes dragging over the hat, the cleavage, the bare thighs...then muttered something and disappeared into the crowd. My heart was still racing when the party started winding down. Jenny and Amelia found guys to leave with. Good for them. A couple of other guys had been interested earlier, but they all flaked once the lights came up. I ordered an Uber and stepped outside into the cool night air.

Ash was already on the porch saying goodbyes to his friends. He saw me, hesitated, then walked over.

“Hey. I’m really sorry about earlier. Again.”

I laughed. “It was a compliment. I put a lot of effort into this outfit.”

He blushed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You need a ride? Uber’s gonna take forever.”

I looked at him for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

The car was quiet at first. Streetlights slid across the dash. Ash kept both hands on the wheel.

“So what happened to the girls you arrived with?” he asked.

I sighed. “Found boys to take home. I had a few guys who were interested, but they flaked.”

He glanced over, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “What lines were you using?”

I tilted my head, voice dropping into the same breathy register I’d used on the dance floor. “I told one guy I’d suck his cock better than any girl and make him come back for more.”

The car swerved...just a little.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was tight. “Just didn’t expect to hear that.”

I laughed. “Well, it’s true.… not like it mattered tonight.”

We pulled up outside my place. I stumbled getting out of the car...boots and the last of the vodka...and Ash was there in a second, steadying me with a hand on my elbow. He walked me to the door. Inside, the apartment was dark and quiet. I flicked on a lamp, turned to thank him...

And looked down.

Holy crap.

He was hard. Thick and obvious against the front of his jeans.

“Holy crap, are you hard right now?!”

He froze. Color flooded his face. “Sorry. I just… I have a thing for cowgirls.”

I stared at the outline of his cock for a second longer than I should have. The booze made my mouth reckless.

“I could take care of that for you?”

His eyes snapped up to mine. “No. I don’t think so.”

I shrugged, trying to keep it light even though my pulse was hammering. “Alright, on you. But if you keep staring at me like that, I’ll start getting bold.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

So I walked up to him and put my hand on his crotch.

He went tense under my palm. I could feel how hard he was, the heat of him through the denim. I gave a slow, deliberate squeeze.

The booze was definitely influencing my mouth now. “Well… if you wanted to, I would do whatever you wanted. No judgment.”

I watched him struggle with it...jaw tight, breathing shallow, eyes locked on mine. Then, quiet:

“So… whatever I want?”

“Yup. I’ll give you a one time pass.”

He looked away for a second, then back at me, voice rough. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know if I could fuck a guy.”

I stepped even closer, still holding him through his jeans, and tilted my head so the hat framed my face the way it had all night. My voice stayed soft.

“Look at me. Do I look like a guy to you right now?” I gestured at the whole outfit...the cleavage, the bare thighs, the makeup, the way the skirt sat high on my hips. “Doesn’t have to be gay. Doesn’t have to be anything. You’re horny. I’m horny.”

Something in his expression cracked.

He grabbed me, spun me, and threw me down onto the couch on my back. Before I could even catch my breath he yanked my hips up, folding me so my ass was tilted toward him, knees near my chest. The short denim skirt flipped up easily. He yanked my panties to the side, exposing everything.

Holy shit. I hadn’t actually thought he was going to do anything. But the sudden roughness, the way he held me open...it was hot as hell.

I looked up at him, voice already a little shaky. “Can you please grab lube? It’s in my bedroom. Drawer on my nightstand.”

He left without a word. I stayed exactly where he’d put me, ass in the air, heart pounding, the cool air of the apartment against my skin. A minute later he was back, bottle in hand. He flipped the cap, poured a thick stream of lube right onto my hole, and used his fingers to spread it, pressing inside just enough to make me gasp.

Then he lined up.

He pushed in slowly...thick, steady pressure that stretched me open inch by inch. I moaned, high and soft, the sound slipping out before I could stop it.

Ash’s breath hitched. “Fuck… I like how girlish you sound.”

I took the hint. Let every moan stay soft and high, the way he clearly wanted. He sank deeper until he was fully inside me, hips flush against my ass. The size of him made my thighs tremble.

“God, you’re big,” I breathed. “Feels huge… fuck…”

He started moving...slow at first, long deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot. I kept talking, the words tumbling out between those high, breathy sounds.

“Just like that… fuck, your cock feels so good… stretch me open…”

He gripped my hips harder and picked up the pace, the wet sound of the lube and the slap of skin filling the room. Every thrust punched another soft, girlish moan out of me. He clearly liked that; his rhythm got rougher, more possessive, like he was chasing those noises.

I reached down and stroked myself in time with him, already leaking. “Harder...please...use me however you want…”

That did something to him. He folded me tighter, almost bending me in half, and fucked me deep and steady, the head of his cock dragging over my prostate with every stroke until I was shaking. My moans got higher, more broken. He leaned over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other still holding my hip.

“Keep talking,” he muttered. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So full… so fucking full… your cock is perfect, Ash...don’t stop...”

He didn’t. He kept going until I came hard across my own stomach, body clenching around him, a high, helpless sound torn out of my throat. The way I tightened up dragged him over the edge right after. He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low groan, pulsing deep inside me, hips stuttering.

We stayed locked together for a long moment, both of us breathing hard. Eventually he pulled out carefully. I lowered my legs, still shaky, the hat finally tumbling off onto the floor.

Ash sat back on his heels, looking at me flushed, disheveled, come leaking out of me onto the couch cushion. His expression was unreadable for a second. Then he dragged a hand down his face.

“…Shit.”

I gave a small, breathless laugh. “Yeah. That happened.”

He glanced at the mess we’d made, then back at me. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” I stretched a little, still feeling the pleasant ache of him. “One time pass, right?”

He was quiet for a beat. Then said

“Yeah. One time pass.”

But the way his eyes lingered on my body had me wondering if he’d be able to keep it that way.

All characters are above the age of 18.

The big Halloween party was the only night of the year I let myself do this. I was super pumped. Most nights I stayed in safer clothes, the ones that didn’t turn heads, but Halloween gave me an excuse. I put the outfit together carefully: a tiny white hatter top tied tight under my chest, a short denim skirt that barely covered anything when I moved, scuffed brown cowboy boots, a wide belt with a heavy buckle, and a black hat tilted just right. Makeup softened my jaw and made my lips look fuller. When I looked in the mirror I felt sexy and free in a way I rarely allowed myself.

Jenny and Amelia were waiting downstairs. They were dressed as a nurse and a vampire, both already smiling when they saw me.

“God damn, boy,” Jenny said, circling me. “You look fucking fire.”

Amelia nodded. “Complete trap. If the boys don’t lose their minds tonight I’m quitting.”

I laughed. “Thank you. It may or may not work out. I don’t care. I just… feel good.”

The party was packed and loud. Bass shook the floors. I danced. First with the girls, then with whoever drifted close. Hands found my waist, my hips. One guy pressed up behind me and started grinding slow and dirty against the short skirt. I leaned into it, rolling my ass back against him, feeling him get hard through his jeans. We moved together like that for a while, the music and the heat and the attention making me bold. Then I turned around.

Horror hit both our faces at the same time.

Ash.

My friend. The one who’d known me for years.

“Ash?”

“Robin?”

He jerked back like he’d been burned. “Shit...I’m sorry. I thought you were just another girl. I didn’t know it was you.”

I swallowed. “It’s okay.”

He stared a second longer...eyes dragging over the hat, the cleavage, the bare thighs...then muttered something and disappeared into the crowd. My heart was still racing when the party started winding down. Jenny and Amelia found guys to leave with. Good for them. A couple of other guys had been interested earlier, but they all flaked once the lights came up. I ordered an Uber and stepped outside into the cool night air.

Ash was already on the porch saying goodbyes to his friends. He saw me, hesitated, then walked over.

“Hey. I’m really sorry about earlier. Again.”

I laughed. “It was a compliment. I put a lot of effort into this outfit.”

He blushed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You need a ride? Uber’s gonna take forever.”

I looked at him for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

The car was quiet at first. Streetlights slid across the dash. Ash kept both hands on the wheel.

“So what happened to the girls you arrived with?” he asked.

I sighed. “Found boys to take home. I had a few guys who were interested, but they flaked.”

He glanced over, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “What lines were you using?”

I tilted my head, voice dropping into the same breathy register I’d used on the dance floor. “I told one guy I’d suck his cock better than any girl and make him come back for more.”

The car swerved...just a little.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was tight. “Just didn’t expect to hear that.”

I laughed. “Well, it’s true.… not like it mattered tonight.”

We pulled up outside my place. I stumbled getting out of the car...boots and the last of the vodka...and Ash was there in a second, steadying me with a hand on my elbow. He walked me to the door. Inside, the apartment was dark and quiet. I flicked on a lamp, turned to thank him...

And looked down.

Holy crap.

He was hard. Thick and obvious against the front of his jeans.

“Holy crap, are you hard right now?!”

He froze. Color flooded his face. “Sorry. I just… I have a thing for cowgirls.”

I stared at the outline of his cock for a second longer than I should have. The booze made my mouth reckless.

“I could take care of that for you?”

His eyes snapped up to mine. “No. I don’t think so.”

I shrugged, trying to keep it light even though my pulse was hammering. “Alright, on you. But if you keep staring at me like that, I’ll start getting bold.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

So I walked up to him and put my hand on his crotch.

He went tense under my palm. I could feel how hard he was, the heat of him through the denim. I gave a slow, deliberate squeeze.

The booze was definitely influencing my mouth now. “Well… if you wanted to, I would do whatever you wanted. No judgment.”

I watched him struggle with it...jaw tight, breathing shallow, eyes locked on mine. Then, quiet:

“So… whatever I want?”

“Yup. I’ll give you a one time pass.”

He looked away for a second, then back at me, voice rough. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know if I could fuck a guy.”

I stepped even closer, still holding him through his jeans, and tilted my head so the hat framed my face the way it had all night. My voice stayed soft.

“Look at me. Do I look like a guy to you right now?” I gestured at the whole outfit...the cleavage, the bare thighs, the makeup, the way the skirt sat high on my hips. “Doesn’t have to be gay. Doesn’t have to be anything. You’re horny. I’m horny.”

Something in his expression cracked.

He grabbed me, spun me, and threw me down onto the couch on my back. Before I could even catch my breath he yanked my hips up, folding me so my ass was tilted toward him, knees near my chest. The short denim skirt flipped up easily. He yanked my panties to the side, exposing everything.

Holy shit. I hadn’t actually thought he was going to do anything. But the sudden roughness, the way he held me open...it was hot as hell.

I looked up at him, voice already a little shaky. “Can you please grab lube? It’s in my bedroom. Drawer on my nightstand.”

He left without a word. I stayed exactly where he’d put me, ass in the air, heart pounding, the cool air of the apartment against my skin. A minute later he was back, bottle in hand. He flipped the cap, poured a thick stream of lube right onto my hole, and used his fingers to spread it, pressing inside just enough to make me gasp.

Then he lined up.

He pushed in slowly...thick, steady pressure that stretched me open inch by inch. I moaned, high and soft, the sound slipping out before I could stop it.

Ash’s breath hitched. “Fuck… I like how girlish you sound.”

I took the hint. Let every moan stay soft and high, the way he clearly wanted. He sank deeper until he was fully inside me, hips flush against my ass. The size of him made my thighs tremble.

“God, you’re big,” I breathed. “Feels huge… fuck…”

He started moving...slow at first, long deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot. I kept talking, the words tumbling out between those high, breathy sounds.

“Just like that… fuck, your cock feels so good… stretch me open…”

He gripped my hips harder and picked up the pace, the wet sound of the lube and the slap of skin filling the room. Every thrust punched another soft, girlish moan out of me. He clearly liked that; his rhythm got rougher, more possessive, like he was chasing those noises.

I reached down and stroked myself in time with him, already leaking. “Harder...please...use me however you want…”

That did something to him. He folded me tighter, almost bending me in half, and fucked me deep and steady, the head of his cock dragging over my prostate with every stroke until I was shaking. My moans got higher, more broken. He leaned over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other still holding my hip.

“Keep talking,” he muttered. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So full… so fucking full… your cock is perfect, Ash...don’t stop...”

He didn’t. He kept going until I came hard across my own stomach, body clenching around him, a high, helpless sound torn out of my throat. The way I tightened up dragged him over the edge right after. He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low groan, pulsing deep inside me, hips stuttering.

We stayed locked together for a long moment, both of us breathing hard. Eventually he pulled out carefully. I lowered my legs, still shaky, the hat finally tumbling off onto the floor.

Ash sat back on his heels, looking at me flushed, disheveled, come leaking out of me onto the couch cushion. His expression was unreadable for a second. Then he dragged a hand down his face.

“…Shit.”

I gave a small, breathless laugh. “Yeah. That happened.”

He glanced at the mess we’d made, then back at me. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” I stretched a little, still feeling the pleasant ache of him. “One time pass, right?”

He was quiet for a beat. Then said

“Yeah. One time pass.”

But the way his eyes lingered on my body had me wondering if he’d be able to keep it that way.

All characters are above the age of 18.

The big Halloween party was the only night of the year I let myself do this. I was super pumped. Most nights I stayed in safer clothes, the ones that didn’t turn heads, but Halloween gave me an excuse. I put the outfit together carefully: a tiny white hatter top tied tight under my chest, a short denim skirt that barely covered anything when I moved, scuffed brown cowboy boots, a wide belt with a heavy buckle, and a black hat tilted just right. Makeup softened my jaw and made my lips look fuller. When I looked in the mirror I felt sexy and free in a way I rarely allowed myself.

Jenny and Amelia were waiting downstairs. They were dressed as a nurse and a vampire, both already smiling when they saw me.

“God damn, boy,” Jenny said, circling me. “You look fucking fire.”

Amelia nodded. “Complete trap. If the boys don’t lose their minds tonight I’m quitting.”

I laughed. “Thank you. It may or may not work out. I don’t care. I just… feel good.”

The party was packed and loud. Bass shook the floors. I danced. First with the girls, then with whoever drifted close. Hands found my waist, my hips. One guy pressed up behind me and started grinding slow and dirty against the short skirt. I leaned into it, rolling my ass back against him, feeling him get hard through his jeans. We moved together like that for a while, the music and the heat and the attention making me bold. Then I turned around.

Horror hit both our faces at the same time.

Ash.

My friend. The one who’d known me for years.

“Ash?”

“Robin?”

He jerked back like he’d been burned. “Shit...I’m sorry. I thought you were just another girl. I didn’t know it was you.”

I swallowed. “It’s okay.”

He stared a second longer...eyes dragging over the hat, the cleavage, the bare thighs...then muttered something and disappeared into the crowd. My heart was still racing when the party started winding down. Jenny and Amelia found guys to leave with. Good for them. A couple of other guys had been interested earlier, but they all flaked once the lights came up. I ordered an Uber and stepped outside into the cool night air.

Ash was already on the porch saying goodbyes to his friends. He saw me, hesitated, then walked over.

“Hey. I’m really sorry about earlier. Again.”

I laughed. “It was a compliment. I put a lot of effort into this outfit.”

He blushed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You need a ride? Uber’s gonna take forever.”

I looked at him for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

The car was quiet at first. Streetlights slid across the dash. Ash kept both hands on the wheel.

“So what happened to the girls you arrived with?” he asked.

I sighed. “Found boys to take home. I had a few guys who were interested, but they flaked.”

He glanced over, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “What lines were you using?”

I tilted my head, voice dropping into the same breathy register I’d used on the dance floor. “I told one guy I’d suck his cock better than any girl and make him come back for more.”

The car swerved...just a little.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was tight. “Just didn’t expect to hear that.”

I laughed. “Well, it’s true.… not like it mattered tonight.”

We pulled up outside my place. I stumbled getting out of the car...boots and the last of the vodka...and Ash was there in a second, steadying me with a hand on my elbow. He walked me to the door. Inside, the apartment was dark and quiet. I flicked on a lamp, turned to thank him...

And looked down.

Holy crap.

He was hard. Thick and obvious against the front of his jeans.

“Holy crap, are you hard right now?!”

He froze. Color flooded his face. “Sorry. I just… I have a thing for cowgirls.”

I stared at the outline of his cock for a second longer than I should have. The booze made my mouth reckless.

“I could take care of that for you?”

His eyes snapped up to mine. “No. I don’t think so.”

I shrugged, trying to keep it light even though my pulse was hammering. “Alright, on you. But if you keep staring at me like that, I’ll start getting bold.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

So I walked up to him and put my hand on his crotch.

He went tense under my palm. I could feel how hard he was, the heat of him through the denim. I gave a slow, deliberate squeeze.

The booze was definitely influencing my mouth now. “Well… if you wanted to, I would do whatever you wanted. No judgment.”

I watched him struggle with it...jaw tight, breathing shallow, eyes locked on mine. Then, quiet:

“So… whatever I want?”

“Yup. I’ll give you a one time pass.”

He looked away for a second, then back at me, voice rough. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know if I could fuck a guy.”

I stepped even closer, still holding him through his jeans, and tilted my head so the hat framed my face the way it had all night. My voice stayed soft.

“Look at me. Do I look like a guy to you right now?” I gestured at the whole outfit...the cleavage, the bare thighs, the makeup, the way the skirt sat high on my hips. “Doesn’t have to be gay. Doesn’t have to be anything. You’re horny. I’m horny.”

Something in his expression cracked.

He grabbed me, spun me, and threw me down onto the couch on my back. Before I could even catch my breath he yanked my hips up, folding me so my ass was tilted toward him, knees near my chest. The short denim skirt flipped up easily. He yanked my panties to the side, exposing everything.

Holy shit. I hadn’t actually thought he was going to do anything. But the sudden roughness, the way he held me open...it was hot as hell.

I looked up at him, voice already a little shaky. “Can you please grab lube? It’s in my bedroom. Drawer on my nightstand.”

He left without a word. I stayed exactly where he’d put me, ass in the air, heart pounding, the cool air of the apartment against my skin. A minute later he was back, bottle in hand. He flipped the cap, poured a thick stream of lube right onto my hole, and used his fingers to spread it, pressing inside just enough to make me gasp.

Then he lined up.

He pushed in slowly...thick, steady pressure that stretched me open inch by inch. I moaned, high and soft, the sound slipping out before I could stop it.

Ash’s breath hitched. “Fuck… I like how girlish you sound.”

I took the hint. Let every moan stay soft and high, the way he clearly wanted. He sank deeper until he was fully inside me, hips flush against my ass. The size of him made my thighs tremble.

“God, you’re big,” I breathed. “Feels huge… fuck…”

He started moving...slow at first, long deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot. I kept talking, the words tumbling out between those high, breathy sounds.

“Just like that… fuck, your cock feels so good… stretch me open…”

He gripped my hips harder and picked up the pace, the wet sound of the lube and the slap of skin filling the room. Every thrust punched another soft, girlish moan out of me. He clearly liked that; his rhythm got rougher, more possessive, like he was chasing those noises.

I reached down and stroked myself in time with him, already leaking. “Harder...please...use me however you want…”

That did something to him. He folded me tighter, almost bending me in half, and fucked me deep and steady, the head of his cock dragging over my prostate with every stroke until I was shaking. My moans got higher, more broken. He leaned over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other still holding my hip.

“Keep talking,” he muttered. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So full… so fucking full… your cock is perfect, Ash...don’t stop...”

He didn’t. He kept going until I came hard across my own stomach, body clenching around him, a high, helpless sound torn out of my throat. The way I tightened up dragged him over the edge right after. He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low groan, pulsing deep inside me, hips stuttering.

We stayed locked together for a long moment, both of us breathing hard. Eventually he pulled out carefully. I lowered my legs, still shaky, the hat finally tumbling off onto the floor.

Ash sat back on his heels, looking at me flushed, disheveled, come leaking out of me onto the couch cushion. His expression was unreadable for a second. Then he dragged a hand down his face.

“…Shit.”

I gave a small, breathless laugh. “Yeah. That happened.”

He glanced at the mess we’d made, then back at me. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” I stretched a little, still feeling the pleasant ache of him. “One time pass, right?”

He was quiet for a beat. Then said

“Yeah. One time pass.”

But the way his eyes lingered on my body had me wondering if he’d be able to keep it that way.

All characters are above the age of 18.

The summer job was solid. Quiet neighborhood, rich houses, and all I had to do was keep a few pools clean and the yards looking sharp. No drama, no customers breathing down my neck. I was single, no one waiting at home, so I spent most of my free time at the gym trying to tighten up what I could. I wasn’t built like some of the guys around here...just average, a little soft in places no matter how many reps I put in. Still, it felt good to move, to sweat, to stay busy.

I’d been playing around with the feminine stuff more than I admitted to anyone. Nothing big at first...just soft shirts, the occasional pair of panties under my jeans when I was alone. It scratched an itch I didn’t fully understand yet. When I found out Clifton was supposed to be out of town for a few days, the idea hit me hard and fast. Private property. High walls. No one watching.

I brought the bikini with me that morning. It was ridiculous...tiny white triangles for the top, bottoms so thin the fabric barely covered anything. The kind of thing you’d never wear anywhere public unless you wanted to get arrested or laughed out of the place. I parked near the pool house, slipped inside, and changed. The second the cool air hit my skin and the straps settled over my shoulders, my cock twitched. Hard almost instantly. I stood there for a minute adjusting myself, heart thumping, staring at my reflection in the little mirror by the door. Soft chest, smooth stomach, the obvious bulge straining against the front of the bottoms. I looked ridiculous. And I liked it more than I wanted to admit.

I got to work. Skimmer in hand, scooping leaves, walking the edge of the pool. The sun was warm on my bare back and the little bit of fabric between my legs kept shifting in ways that made it hard to focus. I was halfway through the deep end when a voice cut through the quiet.

“That’s an interesting uniform.”

I froze. Turned.

Clifton stood on the patio like he’d been there the whole time. Mid forties, maybe, tall, solid. Dark hair going a little silver at the temples, sharp jaw, the kind of face that still turned heads. He held a glass of something amber over ice, looking completely at ease in a button down with the sleeves rolled up. My stomach dropped.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were home. I thought you were out of town. I don’t...I don’t normally wear this kind of stuff. I don’t have a good explanation. I’m sorry, sir.”

He didn’t look angry. Just curious. His eyes moved over me slow...shoulders, chest, the obvious tent in the front of the bikini bottoms. Predatory in a quiet way that made my face burn and my cock jump at the same time.

“No worries,” he said. “I don’t see an issue.” He took a sip. “My wife’s the one who’s out of town right now.”

He nodded toward the pool. “It’s not going to clean itself. Continue.”

I swallowed and went back to work. He sat in one of the lounge chairs and watched. Every time I bent over or stretched to reach a leaf, I felt his eyes on me. The embarrassment sat heavy in my chest, but under it was something hotter, sharper. My hands shook a little on the skimmer. I finished faster than usual.

When the last of the debris was gone, he stood.

“Why don’t you meet me in the kitchen when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir.”

I put the tools away with my heart in my throat, then walked up to the house. The kitchen was open and bright. Clifton was at the counter putting together a sandwich, still holding that glass. He didn’t look up right away.

“So,” he said, “when did you start liking to wear bikinis?”

I stood there feeling half naked and stupid. “I… sometimes like wearing more feminine things.”

He nodded once, like that made perfect sense. Then he looked at me properly again, eyes dropping to the front of the bottoms where I was still hard and obvious.

“I can say you look absolutely edible in that. And I can tell you like the way I’m looking at you.”

I didn’t answer. My face was on fire.

“You seem pretty vulnerable right now.”

“A little bit, sir. Yes.”

He set the glass down and stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell the whiskey and the faint clean scent of his cologne.

“So I could do what I want with you, it seems.”

My throat went dry. I just nodded.

“Get down on your knees.”

I dropped. The tile was cool under me. He undid his belt, pushed his pants and underwear down just enough. His cock was already hard...thick, heavy, the head flushed dark. He rested a hand lightly on the back of my head.

“Suck.”

I leaned in and opened my mouth. The first taste of him made my stomach flip. I wrapped my lips around the head and took him deeper, slow at first, then deeper when his fingers tightened in my hair. He didn’t thrust hard. Just held me there and let me work, the soft wet sounds loud in the quiet kitchen.

“So malleable,” he murmured above me, voice low and almost amused. “Looks like I’m going to have a good time without my wife here.”

I kept sucking until he finally eased me back by the hair. He was still hard, a thin string of spit connecting my mouth to him for a second before it broke.

“Come with me.”

He didn’t bother putting himself away. Just took me by the wrist and walked me out of the kitchen, down the short hallway, and into the master bedroom. The blinds were half closed. The big bed looked freshly made. He stopped at the edge of it and turned me to face him.

“Keep the bikini on.”

My stomach flipped. The little white top and bottoms suddenly felt even more ridiculous...and tighter somehow. He pushed me gently onto the mattress on my back. The cool sheets against my bare skin made me shiver. He climbed up after me, still mostly dressed, pants open, cock heavy and wet from my mouth.

He reached into the nightstand, pulled out a bottle of lube, and poured some over his fingers. Then he tugged the front of the bikini bottoms aside just enough. Two fingers pressed against me and pushed in slow. The stretch burned. I sucked in a breath and he watched my face the whole time.

“That’s it,” he said quietly. “Open up for me, girl.”

The word landed harder than I expected. Girl. I felt my face heat up even as my cock twitched against the thin fabric still covering it. He worked his fingers deeper, twisting, spreading the lube until the burn started to turn into something else. My hips shifted without permission.

He pulled his fingers out, lubed his cock, and lined up. The head of his cock pressed against me through the open side of the bottoms. He pushed in steady, not rushing. I felt myself stretch around him inch by inch until he was fully inside. The fullness knocked the air out of me. The bikini top shifted with every breath I took. The bottoms were still on, just pulled aside, the fabric digging into my hip.

He stayed still for a second, looking down at me.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Poolboy shows up in a little bikini and ends up on his back taking cock like a good little sissy. That what you wanted when you put this on today?”

I couldn’t find words. My hands were clenched in the sheets. He started moving...slow, deep strokes that made the wet sound of it fill the quiet room. Every thrust shifted the tiny triangles of the top. Every time he bottomed out I felt it in my stomach.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, sir,” I managed.

“Yes what?”

I swallowed. The embarrassment was thick in my throat, mixed with the heat spreading through me. “Yes… I wanted it.”

“Wanted what? Say it.”

“Wanted… to get fucked like this. Like a girl.”

He made a low sound of approval and kept the same steady rhythm, one hand braced beside my head, the other sliding up under the bikini top to pinch a nipple. The dual sensation made my back arch.

“That’s better. No more pretending you’re just some guy cleaning pools. You’re a soft little sissy who gets hard wearing panties and takes cock when she’s told. Isn’t that right?”

The words sank in deeper than the physical stretch. Part of me wanted to look away. The rest of me was already pushing back onto him, the thin fabric of the bottoms rubbing against my cock with every movement. I felt exposed and small and more turned on than I knew how to handle.

He leaned down closer, voice low near my ear as he kept fucking me.

“Say it. Tell me what you are.”

I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. He didn’t stop moving...slow, deep strokes that kept me full and open. 

“Say it,” he repeated, quieter this time, almost patient.

“I’m… a sissy,” I got out. The admission made my face burn hotter than the stretch of him inside me. “A girl. Your girl.”

He made a low sound of approval and pushed in deeper, holding there for a second so I felt every inch.

“That’s right. Good girl.” His hand slid from under the bikini top up to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, thumb brushing the side of my neck. “No more poolboy. Just a soft little slut who gets wet when she’s called what she is.”

The words sank in and stayed there. Part of me wanted to close my eyes and pretend this was still just some impulsive mistake. The rest of me was already pushing back onto him, the shame and the heat tangled so tight I couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

“You feel that? How easy you opened up for me? That’s because you’ve been thinking about this. Dressing up alone, touching yourself, wondering what it would feel like to get used while you still had this on.” His free hand reached down and pressed against the front of the bikini bottoms, rubbing over my cock through the soaked fabric. “And now you know.”

I bit back a sound. This sensation made it hard to think straight. My hips moved on their own, meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Take it. Be good for me.”

He leaned down further, mouth close to my ear, still fucking me in long, steady strokes.

“You’re going to stay in this little outfit the rest of the time you’re here. Every time I want you, you come to me dressed like this. Understanding?”

I nodded, breathing hard.

“Words, girl.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good.” He kissed the side of my neck once, almost gentle, then drove in deeper. “Now keep those legs open and let me use my sissy properly.”

He kept one hand at my throat, the other pressed against the front of the bikini bottoms but he never touched me enough to push me over. He just used me deep, deliberate strokes that kept me open and full.

“That’s it, girl. Take it. Soft little sissy getting fucked in her bikini like she belongs here.”

I just held on, breathing hard, feeling every inch of him. A few minutes later he drove in deep and held there, groaning low against my neck as he finished. I felt the hot pulse of him filling me, thick and steady, until it started to leak out around his cock and run down my thigh.

He stayed inside a moment longer, then pulled out slow. The emptiness left me aching and still hard.

“Go take a shower,” he said. “Down the hall on the left.”

I got up and walked out without looking back. The bathroom was quiet. I turned the water on hot and stepped under it still wearing the bikini. I peeled the wet fabric off and let it drop to the floor. The water ran over my shoulders and down my back while my mind kept circling everything that had just happened...the way he’d called me girl, the way I’d spread my legs and taken it, the heat and the shame tangled so tight I couldn’t separate them anymore.

I was still hard. After a while I wrapped a soapy hand around myself and started stroking, slow and reluctant at first, then harder. The shame sat heavy in my chest the whole time. I thought about the things he’d said, the way he’d looked at me, the fact that I was standing in his shower with his cum still leaking out of me, and I came hard against the tile, biting the inside of my cheek to stay quiet.

I stayed under the water longer than I needed to after that, rinsing off, trying to steady my breathing. When I finally turned it off and dried myself, I wrapped the towel around my waist and stepped out into the hallway.

A black duffel bag was sitting on the floor. Clifton stood a few feet away, already dressed, looking calm.

“That’s a bunch of stuff my wife never wears,” he said. “Take it with you. Come back tomorrow and we can continue.”

He turned and walked back toward the kitchen, leaving me standing there with the bag at my feet.