u/rotonoscope

Synopsis: Katie is at least somewhat into her roommate, Gavin, but she has a suspicion that he’s somewhat into her feet. There’s nothing wrong with that, but she learns he’s fun to tease. The Game’s Afoot!

Written for image 16 for the July contest!

~

Gavin is a fine roommate; Katie can’t complain. Since her sister moved out, he’s one of the only subletters who has been able to keep up with the rent, so he’s easily lasted the longest so far. He’s friendly, washes his own dishes, and isn’t super possessive about the food he makes, so more often than not, they end up cooking for each other.

Katie does wish Gavin was more talkative. He keeps his volume at a respectable level or just uses his earbuds to not be disruptive, but he’s always watching something. It could be news, sports, maybe a streamer in the background. 

He lets Katie use his Netflix account and whatever numerous streaming services he has (almost everything, really), so she’s been able to save some money by not paying for her own subscriptions. She’ll ask if he wants to watch something together, and he usually declines, but it’s a fun time whenever he humors her; it’s fascinating to see him get invested in rom-coms and period pieces. 

Curiosity struck when the Wi-Fi statement came out, one month. Katie checked to see the bandwidth breakdown, looking through the different categories. Most of it was video streaming (a fifty-fifty split between him and Katie, honestly). The next category was cloud services, which is almost unavoidable in this day and age. One category made her blush: porn. She figured that would be mostly her, but when she expanded to see what kind of sites were visited, Katie saw some names she didn’t recognize. Everyone watches porn, and everyone’s into different things. Gavin sure has his curiosities. There were a few foot sites. Okay, maybe more than a few. 

Is Gavin into feet? Like, into into them?

~

Curiosity gets the best of Katie again, and she pays closer attention to Gavin’s reaction when she’s nearby. Collectively, they love doom scrolling in the living room. Nothing quite like it after a long day. If one of them laughs a little too hard, the other would look up, and they share videos or compare feeds. It’s a good time. All casual. Truly, he’s a good roommate. When he wants to open up, that is. 

One day, Katie sits in the recliner with her feet above the ottoman, ankles crossed, and she notices Gavin glance over every time she shifts or wiggles my toes. He looks, then quickly flits his eyes back to the screen. Every time, without fail. Sometimes he clears his throat or looks away to hide the very distinct blush on his cheeks.

Interesting.

~

Part of it is curiosity; part of it is boredom. After work, Katie trudges into the apartment, takes off her shoes, sets her bag on the countertop, and plops onto the couch. She stretches across it, despite Gavin sitting on one end. Resting her feet in his lap, she can’t help but notice his initial annoyance, only to be replaced with a fluster.

“Long day?” he asks. Gavin tries to look Katie in the eyes, but she could see them wander towards her ankle socks.

“Yeah, definitely. I feel like I put in more steps than usual today. It was really busy on the floor, and all the walkies were in use, so I really had to go back to the nurses' station to talk to the team,” Katie rambles. His thigh tenses under her heel, and she swears she heard his breath stop, even if only for a moment. “I could really go for a massage. Do you know a place?”

“There’s this place I pass on the way to work. It’s on the strip mall on McKenzie Boulevard, Gavin says. He types on his phone, trying to find the name of the place online. “It looks like it’s closed on Wednesdays, so maybe you can book an appointment tomorrow?”

“I work tomorrow,” Katie grumbles. She stretches to relieve tension, and she groans loudly. It doesn’t do much to help the throbbing of her feet, but the sound she makes stirs something in Gavin. Katie tilts her head against the back of the couch, looking at him, trying my hardest not to smile too hard. “Would you mind?”

“I-I’ve never…” Gavin stammers.

“Just do your best,” Katie tells him, giving her toes a wiggle. She smiles through pursed lips and flashes a smile. “I’m kind of desperate.”

Gavin’s hands tremble when he puts them around Katie‘s feet. His touch is incredibly light, almost to the point of tickling; Katie has to keep strong lest she bursts out laughing. He carefully removes her socks, and Katie can’t help but feel like he’s treating her like fine porcelain. It’s charming.

“Gavin?” Katie starts, looking at him. His eyes are laser-focused on her feet, but he snaps out of it, looking her way, unable to muster a response. He shifts his legs, and Katie spots a growing bulge in his pants, even if only slightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he tells her. His thumb digs into Katie’s heel, and she winces. “Is that too hard?”

“No, it feels good,” Katie assures, nodding, hoping it will ease his worries. “It’s so sore from today, so it’s probably gonna hurt at least a little bit.”

Gavin continues working her heel, eventually moving his way up to Katie’s arch. Concentration furrows his brows, and Katie starts to regret not asking for this sooner. Once he starts finding knots up near her toes, that’s when a moan slips out.

“Are you absolutely sure you’ve never done this before?” Katie asks, smiling to herself. 

“Never,” he tells Katie, offering a humble smile. “I’ve had partners that just…really don’t like having their feet touched. You promise this is okay?”

“Oh, I’m definitely not complaining. Feel free to go as long as you can. I’m kind of in heaven right now,” Katie says contentedly. 

So is Gavin, apparently. It’s been a while since Katie has had someone look at her the way he does, even if all of his attention is on her feet. He’s attentive to every knot, and repeats the same process on the opposite foot.

When Katie gets her fill, feeling immensely better than when she walked into the apartment, she recoils her feet away, and Gavin almost looks hurt. “That was awesome. You really got a knack for that. Am I allowed to ask for more massages if I have a bad day?”

“I guess,” Gavin says, trying not to appear too eager. “Anytime. Just let me know when.”

Katie walks away but stops when a notification steals her attention. In the corner of her eye, she sees Gavin staring at her bare feet. When she chuckles, making eye contact, he looks away embarrassedly, playing a video on his phone.

~

That should’ve been enough for Katie, but truthfully, she enjoys teasing Gavin. She makes sure not to be mean about it, but he’s admittedly a little cute when he’s flustered. Katie has always been the type to wear socks at all times—even walking around the house—but she stops completely. The extra air is actually pleasant, and the extra attention makes her grin.

Gavin isn’t sneaky, like, at all, but Katie pretends not to notice.

“Gavin,” Katie starts, and he looks over. She stares at the tips of her fingers. “Do you think you can spot me some money? I kind of wanna get my nails done.”

Katie’s focused on her fingernails, but she knows her toes are stealing the show. It really has been too long since he’s gotten a good mani-pedi. “They shorted me on my last check by a few hours. I’m kind of bummed. I was thinking of squeezing an appointment tonight before the salon closes tonight.”

“Rent is due soon,” Gavin tells her, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing his wallet. He flips through the bills in his wallet. Hesitantly, he asks with concerned brows. “How much do you need?”

“Um, like…a hundred?” Katie asks, smiling nervously. When Gavin’s eyes widen, she jumps in to reassure him. “That’s after tax and tip! They’re pricey at the place I go to, but they always do a good job.”

When Gavin stops flipping through cash, Katie figures it’s a no-go, but her jaw drops when he hands her his debit card. She stares at the card, then looks up at Gavin. He sighs, looking away. “Do you want it or not? I don’t have enough cash.”

“You can just send the money to me,” Katie says, grabbing his card and looking at it. “I don’t need the physical card.” 

Gavin shrugs. “Not like you can go overboard with it. It’ll decline if you even step foot into a steakhouse.”

“What if we share an entree?” Katie suggests. 

“No eating out. I’m cooking tonight,” Gavin tells her. 

Katie makes it to the salon with ample time to score the last appointment of the night. Good thing, too. There’s no need for anyone to rush. Pulling out her phone, she snaps a picture of her feet and sends it to Gavin:

Katie sent an attachment.

He responds immediately, but without substance, only confusion:

???

Oh, wise and noble mani-pedi sponsor, please select a color for my toes. 

Gavin types for a while, those three dots appearing and disappearing constantly. Katie wonders what he’ll gravitate to. Some light research on the internet suggests bright red is popular. French tips, too, or even just a solid coat of flat white. His response takes her by surprise.

Don’t you have that emo/scene/throwback night this weekend with your friends? Choose something bright and neon, I guess? Idk

You remember that??

It’s on the calendar. 

~

“What do you think? Am I fuckable?” Katie asks, showing off her outfit to Gavin. Fishnets, denim shorts that she squeezed into (worth it for how good it makes her ass look), and a band tee that corroborates her elder emo status. 

Gavin looks up from his phone, and his eyes veer down to her toes painted, bright cyan, magenta, and yellow. His eyebrows flash when he takes in the entire getup. “Uh, I guess so.” 

“Should I do the knee-high Converse? Or the Doc Martin sandals?” Katie holds up both options. The question is rhetorical; she knows what he’ll pick. There was no way he could resist her toes being out on display. Gavin points to the latter option, and they fall to the floor with a thud (sorry, downstairs neighbors). With an innocent smile, she asks him, “Can you help me put them on?” 

Gavin stares for a moment, but gives in after rolling his eyes. He kneels by the sandals, cradling each foot as he helps slip them in. With careful precision, he secures the straps at her ankles. 

“Thanks, Gavin. Are you sure I can’t convince you to come out with us? It could be fun,” Katie offers with a smile. It’s genuine. No teasing this time. 

“I think I’m good,” Gavin tells her. “It’s not really my scene.”

“Was that joke on purpose?”

“No, shut up,” he grumbles, putting his palm in his face. “Let me know if you and the girls need to be picked up or something.”

“You know the club is only a ten-minute walk from here, right?”

“Yeah, but what if your feet get tired?”

Katie grins, scrunching her nose. “I have someone who can massage my feet when I get back.”

~

The night was awesome; they played so many throwbacks. Katie’s eardrums are still ringing. She knocks on Gavin’s bedroom door, and when he doesn’t respond, she jiggles the knob, slowly opening it, barely making out his sleepy silhouette from whatever hallway light reaches his bed. “Gavin, are you awake?”

“Barely,” he says groggily. “Do you need a ride? Hold up. I’ll be right there.”

“Gavin, I’m literally standing in your doorway. We got home safe. The girls are sleeping in my bed, and the Uber upcharges are kind of insane right now, so they’re gonna stay the night.”

He sits up, rubbing his eyes, padding his bed. “Come on, sleep here. I’ll take the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Katie says, smiling, walking closer to the bed. The heavy soles of her sandals are heavy against the wood floor. Gavin rolls over to make space for her, and she collapses onto the bed, face first. She kicks her feet. “Can you take my sandals off?”

“Yeah, I got you.” Gavin’s sleepy voice does more for Katie than she’s ready to admit. He unbuckles her shoes and lets them fall to the ground. His thumb finds knots he figured would be there. All over her arch. Near her toes. Plenty of love for the heel.

Katie smiles to herself. “I didn’t even have to ask for the massage. I’m impressed.”

She rests her head on her crossed arms, and with how well Gavin is doing, she could see herself falling asleep like this. Katie hums happily to herself, though something makes her ask a question that she knows she shouldn’t: “Gavin? How long have you been into feet?”

“What?” he says, laughing. Katie expects him to be more defensive or embarrassed, but he sounds more confused than anything.

“You’re always down to give me a foot massage,” Katie starts, looking at him over her shoulder. “You also helped pick the polish for my toes. You literally stare at them whenever I’m walking around barefoot.”

“I’m going to address those one by one,” Gavin says, smiling. “You ask for massages, like, all the time. You work hard enough, so it’d be messed up if I told you no. You’re the one who asked me what color to paint them, so I gave you some good options for tonight. And for the last part it’s…uh, never mind.”

What Katie teases, sitting up. She crosses her legs and presses a pointed foot into Gavin‘s chest. “What? Can’t deny it?”

“I mean you do have pretty feet,” Gavin admits, “but it’s not so much that I’m into feet. I’m just into…you.”

“What?” It’s Katie's turn to be confused. “Are you serious?”

“Is that crazy to say? Yeah, I’m serious.” Gavin laughs. “Wait, do I strike you as a guy with a foot fetish?”

“I don’t know,” Katie says, a little embarrassed. “I saw stuff in our internet history.”

Gavin blushes, explaining from the corner of his mouth, “I got…curious. More people are open to talking about it these days, so I wanted to see what the hype was about. It's not what I'd usually go for, but I fell down a rabbit hole that night.” 

“So you're not interested in foot stuff at all?” Katie asks.

“I never said that.” Gavin looks away. “It just seems like something that…couples do, so I’m not in any hurry to try it.” 

Katie smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Now, why do you say that?”

He shrugs, staring at her hand while doing nothing to move it off him. “Isn’t it weird? I wouldn’t want to hook up with a girl, ask for some foot action, and be labeled Foot Guy Gavin in all of her group chats.”

“Then maybe you’re dating the wrong kind of girl?” Katie suggests, nudging his arm with her elbow. “I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

“Well, I'd consider you pretty open-minded,” Gavin says.

“Yeah, but aren’t we sort of like a couple?” Katie says lightheartedly. “We…live together, eat together. You do silly things for me like give me foot massages and help me with my shoes when I don’t want to do it myself.” 

“That’s different.”

“You paid for my nails?”

“That was one time.”

“I don’t know, I could get used to that,” she says playfully, and Gavin finally cracks a smile. “What do you say? We could give it a try.”

“Being a couple? Or a foot job?” Gavin jokes, watching as Katie threads her fingers into his.

She leans in to kiss his cheek, and he blushes in response, eyes not quite meeting hers. “How about I let you decide?”

Slowly, Gavin moves his hand onto her waist, and he stares at her lips. When she nods, he lowers her onto the bed, his face moving towards her. “Mystery third option?”

“Sure,” Katie says, smiling up towards Gavin. As he moves closer still, she closes her eyes, puckering her lips, and that first kiss is so gentle. Very much what she would expect from him. Sweet and slow. Tender, too. She’s always thought of him as a type of guy who needs a little push, so she gives it to him, kissing harder, and he follows suit. A fast learner; she likes that.

One of his arms wraps under the small of her back, bringing him up towards her, and the other hand undoes the button of her denim shorts. Breaking away from the kiss, he moves his lips to her neck, speaking against her skin. “I’m surprised you came home tonight, actually.”

“Why’s that?”

“You asked if you looked fuckable, so I assumed you’re going guy hunting tonight.”

“I had my eyes set on someone,” Katie says, enjoying the worry wrinkling Gavin’s forehead, “but he insisted on not going to the club when I invited him.”

“That’s the kind of guy you want to be with?” Gavin asks, offering a nervous smile. His lips linger on her neck, and soft kisses have Katie gasping through moans.

“He’s good to me, otherwise. Just…really bad at taking hints.”

Gavin pulls her shorts off, and her panties come with it. He sits up to remove his shirt, and Katie does the same. To say he worships her is generous. As he moves his head lower, Gavin leaves a trail of kisses, making frequent stops. Her lips—plenty for her lips. Her collarbone. Breasts—he loves her breasts, squeezing them gently, only kneading harder when she begs for it.

His tongue on her nipple stiffens it in his mouth, and when he locks his lips around it to flick against it, Katie holds him there, loving how it feels. She parts her legs, reaching down to rub her foot against his crotch. His mouth pauses for a moment, but he continues his downward journey. He leaves plenty of kisses for her stomach, and his light lips tickle, stirring a heat deep inside her.

Katie can hardly wait. Once his lips kiss the inside of her thighs, he inches higher, switching between legs. She needs that mouth on her soon. Her fingers tangle into his hair, tugging him towards her, and his eyes flit up. If his mouth wasn’t buried between her legs, she’s sure she would’ve seen a smirk.

Gavin took his time making his way to her pussy, but he doesn’t waste a single second longer getting right into it. A flattened tongue licks slowly along her soaked lips. That eye contact is dangerous. Katie presses her foot harder against his crotch. He’s so hard already, just from eating her out. Seeing him so focused on her is a good change of pace from his usual nonchalance.

“Take your pants off,” Katie says between moans, rolling her hips up into his face.

“What?” Gavin stops to look down at her foot pressing against his dick.

“Does it feel bad?”

He pauses, looking away, muttering, “...no.”

“Then let me do my thing, and you can keep you doing your thing.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything, but he pulls down his shorts and boxers. He’s a good size. Katie could definitely see herself riding it, but she imagines that would have to wait for a different day. He moves back down to put his mouth back on her. He licks faster this time, focusing on circling her clit with his tongue. Teasing her entrance with the tips of his fingers, tracing it along the length of Katie’s entrance drives her crazy. Sometimes he pauses, and Katie thinks he’ll press them inside of her, but he doesn’t, just letting his fingers travel along her again.

Katie spreads her toes, letting Gavin’s dick rest between her big toe and the next one over, squeezing them gently and moving along his length. “How’s that?”

“Oh, that’s… different.”

“Bad?’

“No, keep going,” he tells her, giving plenty of attention to her clit. 

Katie moans loudly. Gavin licks her harder, kissing and sucking her clit. He’s such a messy eater; his chin is dripping with a mix of his spit and her juices. He breathes deeper, throbbing between Katie's toes, and his hips start moving, humping into her sole.

She strokes him a little faster, best she can, and Gavin’s fingers speed up to meet her pace. His fingers hammer against her sweet spot, and the repeated taps have her pushing her hips into his face. Sweet moans leave her left lips, muffled by a palm over her mouth.

He shushes her, grinning for breath, and even that minuscule moment when he took his mouth off of her is agony. She begs for his tongue again, and his eyes narrow smugly. “Not too loud, Katie. I don’t want you to wake your friends.”

When he puts his hand back over her mouth, she parts her lips, taking two of his fingers in to suck them. Her ankle is getting tired, so she stops moving her foot, but Gavin doesn’t mind, perfectly happy to grind into her. She likes his eager grunting and his moans against her pussy when he licks her.

His tongue speeds up, and her fingers match the tempo. Katie‘s legs clench, squeezing around his face, and she tries to keep them apart, but his other hand holds her thigh against his cheek. One more kiss along against the inside of her leg is the final bit of mercy he offers before he goes all out.

He presses against her sweet spot, rubbing and petting the rigid walls, increasing pressure. The faster he licks and sucks on her clit, the more Katie is thankful that his hand muffles her moans. Gavin’s clamps over her mouth, keeps her quiet and contained. She barely has any control over her body. It twists and bucks, greedily taking whatever pleasure Gavin gives her.

When Katie’s body slows, she pants, pulling Gavin’s hand away, kissing his palm. She sits up, despite her daze, and guides Gavin to sit next ot her. Leaning over, falling into the crook of his shoulder, looking at him with the widest grin. Kissing his jawline, she reaches down for his dick, stroking it, loving his groans, knowing they’re all for her. “Your turn?” 

Gavin nods. “Do you…think you can still use your feet?”

Katie taps his nose, kissing it before scooting back to put some space for her legs between them. “Of course.”

She angles her toes to trace along his length, watching the way he twitches. Eyeing a bead of pre-cum leak out, she smiles, rubbing it in with her sole. Gavin grabs the sheets, entranced by the feeling. Katie gets an idea. “Gavin, do you have some lube handy?” 

He doesn’t even respond before darting over to his bedside table, digging through the drawer. “Y-yeah…should be some here. Somewhere.” 

Gavin peeks over, but Katie waits patiently, surprised that the bottle he hands her is almost empty. He looks at her, offering a nervous smile. She slathers him in lube, and she strokes him, loving how much more easily her hand glides over him. His voice deepens, and every breath that follows is labored. 

Katie grips tighter around him, squeezing his base while another hand travels his length. His hands move up to grab her head, and he leans in to kiss her. The desperation behind those lips tells her all she needs to know. He wants her so badly.

She sits back, supporting herself on an elbow, and presses her feet against his lubed-up cock. He shudders at the brief contact, but she sandwiches him between her soles, rubbing along him. His moans are so sexy; she never would have guessed. Gavin sounds so needy, especially when she uses her toes to stroke his dick. 

“Fuck…” Gavin cries out, muffled when Katie puts her sole in his face. His eyes shoot open, and he holds her against him, worshiping the bottom of her foot. Desperate kisses. Light licks that tickle her foot’s entire length. Eager lips to suck every toe. He’s quieter this way, so Katie doesn’t complain. It even…feels a little nice.

His breath tickles her foot as he breathes harder against her. Without her second foot to build pressure, she resorts to her method before, stroking him between her big and index toes. She must be doing fine, because Gavin grins wide. The lube certainly helps. She works her way to moving faster. 

Disappointment riddles Gavin’s face when Katie takes her foot from his face. Katie grabs him by the nape and pulls him in for a deep kiss. She means for it to be a quick peck, but he holds her in place, deepening the kiss, moaning sweetly when he takes her tongue into his mouth. She gives him a knowing look, and he looks away nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Okay, I guess I am into feet. A little bit. But I swear it’s because it’s yours.”

Katie laughs. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Seeing you like this is hot. If it makes you feel any better, I can share a fetish of my own.”

While she rubs his throbbing cock with her feet, Gavin spitballs a few guesses. Restraints. Blindfolds. Water sports. All good guesses, but not really Katie‘s thing. “Cum. I love cum. I love the mess. I love seeing it shoot out. Hearing guys groan when they finish. So I think I found a way we can both have some fun.”

Gavin waits patiently for Katie’s suggestion, a smile forming across his face.

“You’re gonna cover these pretty little feet, okay?” Katie starts, leaning to kiss him again. “You’re gonna moan for me. You’re gonna tell me how good I’m doing and how good it feels. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he agrees breathily. A sharper breath escapes whenever he twitches against Katie‘s toes. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good.”

His fist ball up the fabric of the sheets, and his eyes shut as he grits his teeth. Deep breaths build, the time between them getting shorter each time. “Holy shit, Katie.”

“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” Katie asks, mischief written all over her face. When he nods, she slows her feet, delighted by the way he humps between them, holding them together with his hands. “You must really want it, don’t you?”

“Please,” he begs, eyes darting open to plead with her. He whimpers, and it’s just so, so cute.

Katie grabs his hands holding them onto the bed, insistent that she does everything. “If I were mean, I’d tease you more to make you wait. Make you beg for it. But you did such a good job earlier eating me out and I’m feeling generous.”

She presses her arch against his shaft, while the other foot strokes along his length. Her thighs squeeze to put as much pressure on his dick as she can. Sharp, labored breaths grow more desperate as he stares at the way she works him.

“You’re almost there…I can feel it. The way you throb. You’re leaking so much. I want you to make a mess. I need that hot cum all over my feet,” Katie coos for him.

His head crashes against his mattress, and his hips buck up. “I’m so close. Please. Please, don’t stop.”

“That’s it, Gavin,” Katie says, biting her lip, staring into his eyes. His chest heaves, and every breath is so loud for her. He grits his teeth to hold back, but as soon as he starts humping harder between her soles, they both know it’s over for him. She grins, putting the nail in the coffin, telling him, “Give it all to me.”

Gavin pushes out a deep groan, but it’s nothing compared to the load he expels. A spurt sprays high, only to splash along his stomach. Katie’s legs burn from exertion, but she moves them faster anyway, jerking her feet to milk every last bit of cum. Rope after rope leaks out to drip onto her toes, and it’s hot to the touch.

“Shit,” Gavin says, panting. He looks like he’s seeing stars and that’s a compliment on its own.

“Wow. Looks like a pretty intense come,” Katie says, wiggling her toes, feeling him seep between them. She looks around for something to wipe herself clean, settling for today’s shirt. “Is it always that much?”

“Is that bad that a bad thing?” Gavin asks, smiling nervously.

Katie shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I’ll be having lots of fun with you.” 

When Gavin grabs his clothes to put them on, Katie snatches them from him. Giving him a look. “No cuddles? Some boyfriend you are.”

“I thought you were teasing me when you asked how I felt about being a couple,” he admits.

“Nope. Fully serious.”

“Okay, but what do I get out of this?” 

Katie scoffs, motioning to herself, laughing. “Look at me. I’m a total looker.” 

“Hmm, fair,” Gavin teases, kissing her lips to pull a giggle from her. “Is that it, though? Come on, you gotta upsell it.”

“Fine…you can massage my feet whenever they’re sore. You get the privilege of buckling my shoes for me. You can also pay for my nails,” Katie says, rubbing the tip of her nose against Gavin’s. “Sweet deal, isn’t it?” 

He grins, tightening his hold around Katie. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Synopsis: My roommate, Sachi, never understood the concept of personal space, but I never minded. She was always as close as can be, pressed against my body, but I always wondered if there was room for us to be closer. 

Written for image 05 for the July contest! 

~ 

I thought Sachi and I would always be together. 

Chance led us to rooming together freshman year in college, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. We've had more late-night conversations than some friends have shared in two lifetimes. 

Sachi was always a snuggle bug, but insisted on being little spoon. Every time. Not very equitable. I asked her what her deal was, and she told me that there’s nothing quite like being held. I asked for a chance to try, and she turned to look at me like I had horns.

“What? You want me to be the guy? No way!” she said. I responded with a playful shove. We giggled at least until the sun rose. Even if we had class that day, those moments spent with her were priceless.

~ 

One night, when we were cuddling, I kept burying my face in the back of her hair. 

Sachi giggled. “What are you doing?”

“Your hair is so soft,” I said, unable to fight the smile that tightened my cheeks. I jokingly took a whiff, taking in her scent. “Plus, you smell nice.”

“I think it’s the shampoo I started using,” Sachi said. “Feel free to use it if you want. I don’t mind. My parents always send me the bulk bottles from home, so there’s plenty to go around.”

I did use her shampoo on occasion. She'd always joke that I was taking too long in the shower, but there was no way I could admit I was touching myself to the smell of her shampoo.

~ 

“What kind of husband would you want?” Sachi asked one day to start a conversation while her feet tangled with mine. I only raised a brow in response. She continued, “I want a funny guy, but he can’t be funnier than me, and I want him to be, like, obsessed with me.”

“And you need him to hold you every night?” I joked.

“Exactly. You get me. This is why we’re best friends. What about you, though? What’s your type? Tell meeee.”

“I don’t really see myself marrying a man,” I admitted, unsure of how Sachi would react.

She stared at me blankly. “But who will you live with when you’re all successful with a big house? Can I live with you? Is that on the table?”

I pulled Sachi closer, grinning wide. “I’d love that, actually.”

“And I’d be able to bring my husband?”

“I changed my mind.” 

“Come on, I’ll make sure he’s well-behaved!” Sachi broke out of my arms and poked my sides, pestering me until I gave in, bursting into laughter. I knew days like this wouldn’t last forever.

~ 

When Sachi was stressed, it was more common for her to want to sleep in my bed with me. Whether she needed a breather after a long day of studying, she had a bad exam, or she was up late, finishing a paper at 2 in the morning. This time around, midterms had Sachi panicking for her grade. I stirred slightly,  just to feel her crawling into my bed, wiggling her way into my hold.

“Is this all right?” Sachi would ask, her voice sad. I could feel the stress drip away when I held her.

The way her voice crumbled broke me.

Right then, I knew I wanted to be there for her. Right then, I knew I wanted to always be together with her. Right then, I realized that I loved her. 

“Always,” I assured, “There’ll always a place for you in my bed.” 

There would always be a place in my heart as well, but I couldn’t tell her that part.

~ 

On the last day of college, the night before we’d move out and part ways, I laid in bed, staring at stacked boxes. Two piles of our belongings, going to different places for the first time in four years.

Sachi walked up, wearing the only clothes not sealed up. A worn-out, loose-fitting pajama shirt, and a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass. She smiled, looking at me, asking, “One more time? For old time’s sake.”

I was glad she offered, because I was too scared to ask. It was just like always, with Sachi crawling into her spot and me holding her against me until her back was pressed firmly against my torso. We laid in silence, save for the sounds of our staggered breath. She breathed out when I breathed in, as if I was taking in her air. I would miss this.

“Four years living here you haven’t brought a single guy over,” Sachi teased. “Pretty sad, huh?”

“I guess I’ve got no game,” I giggled, playing along.

“I’d probably be jealous if you did, though,” Sachi grumbled. 

I didn’t know how to respond. My heart raced, and I prayed that she couldn't feel it through her back. My hands clenched, and my knuckles dragged across thinned-out cotton. “Really?”

“This is my spot,” she said possessively. “You said there was always a place for me in your bed.”

“Right,” I agreed. Her hair tickled my nose, and I took a deep breath, savoring the familiar smell of her shampoo. “Can…I tell you something? I’ve been meaning to for a while and I haven’t figured out a way how.”

Sachi paused. “I have something to say too. Can I start?”

“Yeah.” Anticipation quickened my pulse.

“I’m gonna miss my best friend,” Sachi started, and the words stung. “I'm gonna be so lonely when I’m so far from you.”

I bit back tears. “Is it too late to change your mind? You can always find a job somewhere here.”

“It's a good gig. A friend of my parents had an opening at her office. Way too good to pass up,” she assured. “But what was it that you wanted to say?” 

‘Best friend’ isn’t a bad title to have by any means, but it made me feel like there is no way she wanted more. I originally wanted to pour out my heart, and tell Sachi how I really felt about her, but my confidence was shattered, and the moment passed. “I’m scared for when you live alone. You're a terrible cook.”

I forced out to laugh and she joined in. 

My fingers clutched at the fabric of her shirt. They found a hole, and Sachi shivered. 

“Your hands are so cold. We’re already in the blanket!” she lamented, grinning. There was a pause, and she glanced over, meeting my eyes for a brief second. Grabbing my wrists, she guided my hands under her shirt, against her stomach. “Better?”

“A bit,” I answered. Her body was warm to the touch. Even though she shivered, she got used to it, and my hands felt warmer in no time. “You sure this is okay?”

My fingertips traced over her stomach, feeling the slightest clenching of her core, circling her navel. I felt ridges of muscles I only ever dreamed of. One hand veered lower. Her breath hitched.

A firm grasp on my hand kept it in place, just short of reaching the elastic of her shorts. She didn’t say anything, just breathing more heavily. 

“Sorry,” I muttered, and when I tried to recol my hands away, she stopped me, keeping them around her. “That’s probably not something best friends do.”

“It felt nice, Mae,” Sachi said. Her breathing didn't get any easier. Her voice quieted. “I just…I've never…and I don't want things to change…”

I held her tighter and pressed my forehead against her nape. “Then we’ll stay just like this. Nothing more. Okay?” 

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have done that,” I told her, though I was telling myself as much as I was telling her. “We should get some sleep.”

But we didn't. We spent the night talking about anything. Everything. Silence would fall. Laughter would erupt. And before we knew it, the sun rose.

I thought Sachi and I would always be together, but when her parents called to say they were downstairs. I knew our time together was over.

~ 

When her name showed up on my phone, I scurried for to answer the call. We texted every day, but a phone call was rare. I took every opportunity I could, even if the call was only thirty seconds. Even if it was just her saying hi. I would answer every time. “Hey, Sachi. Are you all moved in?”

“Yep, my parents and I finished unpacking just a bit ago. They left for their hotel room.”

“I hope they fed you. I don’t trust you unattended with that stove yet,” I joked, laughing harder when I heard Sachi sigh. Looking at the time, I asked her, “It’s about time for bed, isn’t it? Big day tomorrow. First day at your new job.”

“Yeah,” Sachi responded, with sadness in her voice. “I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“I think I spoiled you by letting you sleep with me whenever nerves got the best of you,” I teased, hoping to cheer her up. “I guess you miss me already.”

“Yeah.” 

She didn’t say anything past that. And the line stays dead for longer than I wanted. She was probably trying to stay strong. I heard a sound somewhere between a laugh and sniffle.

“It’s stupid,” she said, “but I have you on speakerphone with my phone behind my head.”

“That’s as close as we can get to old times,” I told her. I was glad she couldn’t see the bittersweetness in my smile.

“Yeah.”

“Want me to stay on the line and talk with you?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m driving on the way to work, so I hope you can fall asleep within… twenty minutes. Sound doable?”

“Mhm.”

I rambled about my job. Nothing interesting, and I’m sure Sachi agreed. What better way to put her to sleep than something boring? It worked better than I thought. Only a few minutes in, she stopped responding. “Sachi? You there?” 

Light snores sounded, and it was music to my ears. I could’ve hung up, but I left the line on until I parked. Even when it was time to clock in, I sat in the car for a little longer. My record would be fine; I’m usually obnoxiously early. A few more minutes wouldn’t matter.

I stared at her contact picture: a selfie of us with me cropped out. She came to support me at Pride during junior year, sporting heart-shaped face paint on her cheeks with a Bi Flag color scheme. She shyly explained she thought the color scheme was the cutest. I took her word for it.

“Sachi, I’m at work now, so I’m probably gonna get going. But I know you’ll be fine, tomorrow,” I said, “I…love you, Sachi.”

She shifted in bed. Rustles crunched loudly over the phone. A deep breath. Words followed, between snores. “Love…you…too.” 

I knew she didn’t mean it how I wanted, but I didn’t care. I would hold onto the sound of her saying them, and it got me through the day.

~ 

I stopped listening to music on my drives to work. Instead, I’d talk with Sachi until she fell asleep. 

One day, Sachi sent me a cryptic text: a link to an itinerary: NRT to LAX. Something called Golden Week gave her almost a week of time off, and she was using it to see me. I couldn’t believe it. 

When I picked her up, we locked eyes at the airport. She dropped her roller and ran towards me, into my arms. I picked her up, twirled her around, and in a panic, we rushed back for her luggage.

“What do you want for your first meal back in the States?” I asked, grinning as she stared out the window. “Sushi? Ramen?”

“How about a burger?” Sachi suggested. “100% all-American beef. Two patties. Cheese. The works.”

“No pickles,” we said in unison. Thank God for drive-through’s. Sachi didn’t care for a sit-down place. The fancy burger joints were always a tad too pretentious with their tongue and cheek names and appetizers. 

We got to my place, and she instantly changed into house clothes, despite me offering to do some sightseeing.

“I’ve seen the sights,” Sachi told me. She sat next to me on the sofa, without an inch of space between us, chowing down on her burger. “I came to spend the week with my best friend.”

We did what we did best: talk. With almost a year of being separated, we accumulated stories. Our daily conversations left us with less, but even if we talked about nothing of value, this was the best day I’ve had in a long time.

All good things come to an end.

It was time to sleep, despite neither of us wanting to. We imagined it would’ve been like our last day of college, but jet lag was getting to Sachi. Her eyes were heavy as she started nodding off on the couch. 

The Queen-sized bed I slept in now felt luxurious compared to the twin-sized mattresses from college. We could each stretch out with room to spare, each on our own side of the bed.

But obviously, that wasn't what happened. 

When I climbed into bed, she practically dove onto the mattress, scurrying into my arms, backing up into me. Like muscle memory, my arms wrapped around her, and I pulled her tightly. There was a hard pull and twist in my chest. I was so happy that I could’ve cried.

“You have no idea how glad I am to be here,” Sachi said, backing up into me. 

“Me too.” 

There was only silence at first. Not uncomfortable at all, until it stretched longer than it ever had. “Mae?”

“Yes?” 

“That night before I started working in Tokyo… did you say that you…loved me?”

I laughed nervously. “I didn’t think you were awake.”

“I wasn’t…or, not really…” Sachi's head turned, as if trying to look back at me, but she kept her eyes forward. “I thought it was a dream.”

“That explains why you sounded so sleepy when you said it back,” I said. Each word was getting harder to push out.

“How did you mean it?” Sachi asked, after a lengthy pause.

“Like…as a best friend,” I answered, biting my lip. It was a lie. 

I almost ruined things once already. I couldn’t bear thought of doing that again lest I tear us part for good, this time. Yet it felt wrong to hold it back. I couldn’t bury my feelings forever, even if that’s what it would take for things to always be like this. 

Her breathing changed. I couldn’t tell what it meant. Relief? Disappointment? Somewhere in between? There was the sound of her lips parting, as if she meant to speak.

I cut her off. “Wait—when I said it, I meant it as more.”

Silence. Silence that lasted too long. It could’ve been seconds. It could’ve been minutes. Sachi didn’t look towards me. My hands felt numb, barely making out the rhythm of her breaths rippling through her body. That silence was damning.

“How long have you felt like this?” Sachi asked me. 

For me, ot all blended together. That’s what the rose-colored glasses made it seem like. “Midterms. Sophomore year.”

“Why did you… never tell me?” Sachi sounded betrayed. 
Hurt. 

For the first time in our lives, she scooted away out of my arms.

“I wanted to! The night before we moved out,” I pleaded defensively. Tears welled. A tightness in my throat choked words back. “But you said that we were just best friends.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sachi said, voice shaken. She turned around to face me, and frustration was written all over her face.

“Sachi, I’m sorry…”

“If best friends can cuddle like we always did,” Sachi started, scooting closer until our legs were tangled. There was still an arm's length between us, but her hands found my waist. “then why can’t they fall in love, too?”

I was stunned, and in my silence, she moved closer still, tucking her head under my chin, burying her face in my shirt. I nearly sobbed when I smelt her shampoo again. Stifling sobs, I said, “What about your daydreams about your perfect office romance? And your husband who’s supposed to be funny, but not as funny as you?”

“You know I watch too much TV,” Sachi said, looking up at me with a grin. “Do you remember the summer we went to Pride?”

“Of course I do. Your contact picture is a selfie we took that day,” I said. “I always think about how grateful I was that you were there for me.”

“You were there for me, too,” Sachi explained. “When we were getting our face painted—”

“You picked the Bisexual Flag because you thought the colors were the prettiest.”

“I was just saying that,” Sachi said nervously. “I do like both. Mostly boys. Girls sometimes. Well, to be honest, it's mostly just one specific girl.”

When she looked up into my eyes, my heart stopped. I opened my mouth to response, but I had no idea if the words came out. Sachi nodded when I pointed to myself.

“I love you, Mae.”

“I love you, Sachi.” It felt amazing to say it finally in the way that I meant without the fear of being rejected or breaking things forever.

“Do you ever regret not telling me when we were still in school?” Sachi asked.

"You said it was too late for you to change your mind to move all the way to Japan.”

“I would’ve changed my mind if you told me you loved me,” she admitted, fingers grazing the back of my head, stroking my hair. 

“Then, I guess I do regret it,” I said to her.

She kissed me sweetly. It was a quick peck, but it was endearing how her face scrunched in excitement. Her hands balled into fists, shaking in triumph, and her face flushed pink when she stared at my lips. I could see on her face that she wanted more; I did too. For such a big change, all at once, we had to start small and work our way up. There would be time for everything else later.

Even if she'd be leaving again at the end of the week. 

Sachi turned around and pressed her back into my body. I squeezed her tighter than I had before, and she gripped my arms around her, not wanting to let go.

“I have regrets too. I wish I was more honest about my sexuality. I…wish I didn’t have so many hangups about what friends should and shouldn't do with each other, because I was perfectly fine cuddling and not everyone does that—at least as often as we did. I wish I didn’t convince myself that what I felt for you was anything short of love, and there’s one more thing…” Sachi paused, laughing. She pressed my hand flat against her stomach and guided it down until my nail traced under her shorts. Her breast hitched. I could hear a smile in that sharp exhale. “I regret not letting you touch me that night.”

“Really?” I asked, licking my lips. Regaining my confidence, I let my fingers travel lower.

“Sometimes, I still think about what if I’d let you that night. How different things would be. There was always a chance that I never went to Japan, and we could’ve been together. Still, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, completely insatiable. I close my eyes and think of you holding me. Touching me. Feeling me. I pretend my fingers are yours, and play with myself until I come too many times to count. All the time, I beat myself up for not letting you touch me.”

“Do you want me to make up for last time?”

“Yes, please.”

My fingers threaded through coarse hair, finding her slit, tracing along her entrance. I brushed Sachi's hair away from the back of her neck, kissing it softly along each vertebrae, working my way to the side. My fingers continued as slow as ever, teasing her. I whispered against her skin, “How’s that?”

“Keep going,” she told me. Her ass backed up into my hips, rolling to the rhythm of my fingers, hoping to meet and grind against them. “That’s so nice.”

I dipped two fingers into her right away; she accommodated me with ease. I took my time. I gave her more of me, little by little. One knuckle at a time, loving the way her walls hugged me.

Sachi gasped when I withdrew my fingers. Her nails scratched gently against my forearm in protest, holding onto it for your life. “Not fair. Why did you stop?”

Her breath sharpened when I rubbed her clit. Slow strokes grew faster and the space between each labored breath shrank. One of her hands, shaking from excitement, held my free hand up to her breast. “Squeeze it…mmm…just like that…pinch my nipples.”

She felt better than I ever imagined. Everything about her soft breasts and puffy peaks. Her walls were so tight and wet. I brought my fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean. God, she tasted amazing. My fingers returned to their rightful spot, circling her clit even faster than before. 

Her breaths grew more ragged with each exhale. She held me tightly, and her body rocked against me to my rhythm. Her voice came out as a whimper, “Mae…”

She called my name over and over again. I used to think her snores for the sweetest thing to come out of her mouth, but this was better. It only made me rub faster and press harder on her swollen bud. Strain found her voice, and moans muffled through pursed lips. Her body spasmed in my arms, and in the brief moment she froze, her whimpers found a high-pitched apex. 

“Oh my god,” she repeated, aftershocks quaking through her. Every involuntary shake only widened her smile, and she turned around to hide her face in my chest. Through a satisfied laugh, Sachi looked up at me, pink cheeks pressed against my pajama shirt. “Way better than my imagination. Sometimes, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, so horny, and I have to touch myself. It gets so bad that sometimes, it’s the only way I can fall back asleep.”

“I take it you’re ready for bed, then?” I teased. 

Sachi covered her face with her hand, peeking through gaps in her fingers. “Is it greedy if I say I want more?”

“I do too,” I admitted shyly. “I’ve wanted this for a while.” 

She grabbed my face, scooting up until our lips met. This kiss was deeper than the last. It lingered, and part of me wanted to stay just like this. Sachi broke it first, pleading to me with her eyes. “Please, Mae. I want more.”

I rolled over to my bedside table, and Sachi followed, crawling on her stomach towards me. Her eyes widened when I opened the drawer, and she took a gander at my collection. Straps of different sizes. Harnesses. Vibrators. Dildos. Wands. “Pick your poison.”

“I don’t know where to start. I’ve got, like, a simple bullet at home, but all this?” Sachi tapped her lip with a finger. “I trust your judgement. Just whatever you think will show me a good time.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” I said, laughing when she blushed. Her eyes followed my hands as they pulled out a harness and a sizable strap-on. Sachi focused on every movement: every adjustment, every buckle securing, and every strap tightening. I giggled. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been strapped before?”

“My sex friends have mostly been guys,” Sachi explained. Her eyes found mine as she licked the tip of my toy. She smiled before her lips wrapped around it. 

I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do that, but I had to admit the view was nice. That sultry look in those half-lidded eyes. My hand found that long, silky raven hair, smoothing it down until I held the back of her head before guiding her farther down. Her grin reached up to her eyes, and when I humped into her mouth. With a nervous smile, I said, “I hope I can measure up to them.”

“You’ll do fine. Besides,” Sachi assured when she took her mouth off of me, and sized up the strap-on with two hands along the shaft. “With them, it was just sex. With you…it’ll be different.” 

She pulled my shirt off, and I did the same for her, trying not to stare at her panties: magenta lace, accented by a dark navy. It was a good color on her. 

“Mae?” 

“Sorry,” I muttered, pulling her panties off. Her fair skin contrasted the galaxy print of my sheets, and I needed a moment to really take in all her beauty. “Sorry, wow. You’re…you’re beautiful, Sachi.”

Sachi reached up to stroke my face slowly. With a giggle, she said, “I’m also desperate to feel you.”

Her hands found the back of my neck, pulling me down with her as she laid back. She spread her legs, making space for me, but I rolled her onto her side to face away from me. Lifting her top leg up, I guided the tip of my strap towards her slit, and her spit on the toy helped it slide right in. 

“Ever done it like this?” I asked, and I kissed the back of her neck when she shook her head. When my arms wrapped around her body, I grinned, telling her, “I figured it would be fitting for us.”

I built a rhythm, rolling my hips to drive into Sachi, and it wasn’t long until she was backing up into me, grinding her ass against my hips when she bottomed out on me. Her moans split up every thrust. 

Sachi weaved her fingers between mine. My name came sweetly from her lips, over and over, as we rocked into each other. She reached back for my head, tugging my hair, pulling me towards her. Our lips crashed; she pressed so hard into my lips, as if she'd been waiting for this for far too long. 

I heard strain build behind her breaths, and winced, grinning when I bit gently into her bottom lip. After a husky breath of my own, I asked her, “You okay?” 

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, staring at my lips. Sachi pulled me back towards her, kisses breaking up her sentences. “You know how we used to stay up all night? Until the birds were chirping?” 

“Mhm,” I cooed in her ear, grinning against her neck as I placed soft kisses along it. “Why? Do you want me to fuck you until morning?”

Sachi only laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing differently? This is so different. So slow…but it's still so good.” 

“If I was one for fast-paced, I think we would've been doing this before sophomore year was over with,” I joked, tracing my hands along her body. One trailed down her stomach, over her navel, and the other up to her breast. I knew her weak spots from before, and they'd only help her feel even better. 

Her legs shook. I thrusted harder, but kept my same pace. Whatever heat was building in Sachi, it was hitting its limit. Pouty, pursed lips parted when my fingers slid around and over her clit. Stiffened nipples pressed against my palm as I squeezed her. 

“Don't stop…” Sachi begged me, lips reaching for mine. Needy kisses broke her words up. “Mae… you're gonna make me come…” 

The words stopped, but her body told me everything. Soft tremors turned to violent quakes reaching every corner of her body. Fast fingers against her clit shut her eyes. Sachi didn't even need my entire length; shadow strokes as she ground back into me spilled her over. She reached a hand back to my ass, pulling me into her. 

When her body slowed at last, I pulled out, and she rolled onto her back, limbs falling limply to the bed. Short of breath, she still leaned in to kiss me. Slow, but so, so sweet. “Wow…I…do you need me to go down on your something? Just let me know. You earned it.” 

“I don't think you've got it in you, Sachi,” I teased her, rolling over to kiss her forehead. “Rest a little, first.”

“It feels like a waste. I came all this way to spend time with you,” Sachi said with a pout. 

I smiled, peppering her face with smooches until she gave in. “I'm…gonna miss you when you leave. This bed will feel way too big without you in it. I know it's greedy, but I wish you didn't have to go.” 

Sachi looked at me, her smile filled with warmth. “What if I said I wanted to move in with you? Didn't you say I could move in with you when you were successful with a big house?”

“My career's barely started. This is just an apartment, barely bigger than our dorm room,” I joked. I didn't want to get my hopes up. Every day this week would count. I'd make sure of it. “Plus, you have your job all the way in Japan."

“About that…” Sachi started, looking away nervously. “I've been talking with management, and…they're open to me working remotely.”

My eyes widened. “Really?” 

Sachi nodded. “It's one of the few surprises I had planned for you when I came to visit.” 

“I don't know how you're going to top this,” I said, fighting back happy tears. 

“Turn around,” she told me. 

When I did, her arms wrapping around me took me by surprise. A firm grip made me realize I wasn't dreaming. This was real. The love of my life was back in my space, and she knew how I feel—even better, she returned those same feelings. 

Sachi was right. There was no better feeling than being held. 

“Don’t get used to this,” Sachi said. “Though I think I see the appeal.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

“I can squeeze your boobies.” A flurry of mischievous laughter followed. Sachi nuzzled my neck, and I don’t remember saying another word. She held me close to her, and my eyes were impossibly heavy. 

I wanted to tell her I loved her. I wanted to turn her around and take my rightful, tenured position of big spoon. I wanted to talk and talk all night. I wanted to laugh with her like old times. 

But that could all wait. At last, we had all the time in the world now.

Synopsis: Jess’s day is soured when her ex-boyfriend, Cole, is working on her current boyfriend’s car. So what if he’s good with fixing cars? That’s all he’s good for. Mostly.

Written for image 01 for the July contest!

~

Even if work today was about normal, there’s nothing quite like belting your heart out to throwbacks while driving. Even the most vein-popping, anger-inducing road rage can’t stand a chance if Jess has her tunes.

The music cuts, and she glances at her car’s screen to see a call from her boyfriend, Hayden. She answers. “Hey, what’s up? Are you driving already?”

“No, but two things, actually. My car’s AC is crapping out, and there’s no way I’m driving it without a coolant flush. Is it cool if I take your car to work tonight?” Hayden asks. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jes answers. She looks at the time. “Will I make it home in time?”

“I think it’ll be fine. I’ve never known you to drive just the speed limit,” Hayden teases.

“Touché,” she says plainly. “What’s the other thing?”

“I have Cole coming here later. He’ll probably be here by the time you get to the house,” Hayden adds. ”I…hope that’s okay.”

Cole was Jess’s last ex. The relationship was okay at best. The sex was phenomenal, actually, but everything else sort of fell short. He was late to most—if not all—outings they went on, usually running late from work or oversleeping.

Eventually, Jess had enough. She broke things off with him, and while she expected him to at least put up a fight or beg for her back, Cole just had a sort of sad look on his face, nodding and understanding. Jess shouldn’t have any hard feelings (it’s been years, after all), but that last reaction kind of solidified that Cole was just a flaky sort of person.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jess says finally. She laughs, admittedly a little annoyed. “I’d be surprised if he even makes it there before you have to leave.”

“Give him some credit. You guys dated, like, four years ago. I’m sure it’s changed at least a little bit. Plus, he gave me a good deal,” Hayden says with a laugh. “Anyways, I’ll see you when you get home, yeah?”

“Yep, I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too, Jess.”

When even was the last time she saw Cole? She hopes it won’t be awkward.

~

As Jess slows to a stop in front of her house, she sees a familiar figure. Cole’s bulkier than she remembers. A backwards cap covers his messy blonde hair, and he doesn’t even look up, initially. It’s not until Jess reverses into the driveway that she sees him wave through the backup camera. Typical. Of course he wouldn’t dare to make proper eye contact. Whatever. It’s what she expects.

Her attention shifts to her side mirror, and she sees Hayden leaning against his car, waving at her. The sour taste in her mouth is replaced by a light flutter in her chest. She’s happy to see Hayden, and it seems the feeling is mutual. 

Jess gets out of her car and walks over to Hayden. She makes a point not to even look Cole’s way, and in her peripherals, it’s not like he shifts anyway, far too focused on the open hood of Hayden's car.

Tight arms wrap around her, and Hayden lifts her in the air with ease. She kicks her legs behind her excitedly, peppering her boyfriend’s face with kisses. Cole was never quite this affectionate, and ultimately, Jess is glad she was able to find what she was looking for in a partner who genuinely cares about her.

Hayden skillfully lowers her and turns her around, spinning her against his car. It’s warm to the touch but not terrible. All she can think of is the way Hayden's hands find her waist and his mouth settles on her neck, kissing her sweetly. It tickles, and she grins.

“Babe, stop,” she says, laughing, glancing sideways. “Cole’s right there.”

“Let him watch, then,” Hayden whispers. Light nibbles against Jess’s ear, leaving her shuddering. With a grin, he adds, “I’m sure he doesn’t mind, right?”

Cole looks over with a rather displeased face. Wrinkled brows. Something reminiscent of a scowl. Eyes preparing to roll. “Do whatever you want.”

Hayden doesn’t need to be told twice. He hikes Jess’s skirt up, grabbing her ass, and his hips press against her. Jess can feel his growing hardness, and her skirt does little to dampen the feeling. A breeze hits over the side of her ass, and if Cole were to look over, he’d get quite the show. Jess pulls her skirt up higher still, smirking. 

There’s a slit of space between the hood and Hayden's car, and Jess sees eyes looking straight at her. When she meets the gaze, Cole flits away, wiping his nose, and she swears there’s the slightest pink tint to his cheeks.

Jess pulls Hayden in for a kiss and shoves her tongue into his mouth. She can feel him grinning as she moans against him.

“Wow, you must’ve missed me,” Hayden says. His hand reaches under Jess’s crop top to cut her breasts under her bra. Fuck, that’s nice. He kneads roughly, and his thumb traces over Jess’s nipples.

With his thigh wedged between hers, she grinds against him, feeling the fabric of her panties dampen. Her breath hitches when she feels a hand slide in underneath her underwear, and Hayden's fingers rub along her lower lips.

She’d love more of his touch, but just wants one thing even more: a taste of his dick. Jess squats down and untucks Hayden's tank top and works him out of his pants. They don’t come off completely, just enough so that the top half of his dick sticks out above his boxers.

Jess looks at him in delight, licking the ridge of his tip, and swallowing as much as she can without having to pull his pants down further.

The clang of a wrench against concrete pulls her attention to Cole.

“Sorry,” he says nervously, taking care to not look in their direction. He wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm. “I know I said to do whatever you want, but if you guys are gonna shake the car like that, maybe you can take it inside or something? Just a thought.”

“Looks like someone can’t take the heat,” Hayden jokes. He fixes his pants and grabs Jess’s hand, guiding her towards the garage door. “Come on.”

“Don’t you need to get going soon?” Jess asks with a grin. “I don’t want you to be late.”

“I need you before I go,” he says, locking eyes with Cole before he shuts the door. Hayden doesn’t even go further in the house, but Jess doesn’t mind that. She needs him too. She flips up the front of her skirt and fishes her panties to the side as Hayden wiggles out of his pants again.

“Is there enough time to eat me out, maybe?” Jess asks with an innocent smile. 

“I wish,” Hayden says, lips pursing. He aims himself towards her needy slit. “First thing in the morning, when I get back home, I got you.”

Jess shudders when she feels his throbbing tip press her entrance. Hayden tries to force himself in, and her grip on his shirt tightens before she presses on his abdomen. “Wait. Wet it a bit?”

Hayden spits into his palm, rubbing the meager amount on the head of his dick, and tries again, but Jess shakes her head.

“Let me,” she says. Spit pools in her mouth before she lets it drip onto her palm. She spreads it along Hayden, slicking him up. When he pushes inside, it’s like night and day. Much better. Hayden hooks one of her knees up with his elbow, and pounds her. Every stroke pushes her into the washing machine, and hollow metal clangs to his rhythm. Her moans climb, each one louder than the last. “Ah~ Ahhh~”

Jess wishes she could see the look on Cole’s face. Would he be annoyed? Aroused, maybe? If he weren’t outside, working on Hadyen’s car and instead in the other room, she imagines he’d whip his dick out and jerk off to the sounds of her moans. He must miss it. 

“Let him hear it. I love those moans. They’re all for me,” Hayden says. He speeds up. “Fuck. I’m gonna come soon—”

“Wait, babe, not yet,” Jess whines, reaching down to quickly rub her clit as fast as possible without straining her wrist. It’s not enough, not by a long shot. Hayden pulls out, and a violent spurt splashes onto Jess’s thighs while the rest dribbles to the ground. With a laugh, she jokes, “I guess we don’t have to worry about you being late.”

“Sorry,” Hayden says with a nervous laugh. “That pussy just feels so good.”

“You’ll get me tomorrow morning,” Jess says, fighting a frown, looking at Hayden’s outstretched hands. She hands him the keys. Before he has a chance to walk away, she tugs at his wrist. “Hey!”

Jess pouts, pointing at her lips, and Hayden laughs, leaning in to give her a sweet peck. 

“Sorry, babe,” Hayden says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” Jess stands in place, crossing her arms. “I love you.” 

Hayden pauses, looking at her over his shoulder. He smiles. “Love you too, Jess.” 

“Could’ve wiped me down,” Jess grumbles when the door shuts, removing her underwear carefully to wipe her thigh clean. She sighs, cleaning the soiled spots on the floor before walking upstairs and tossing the dirty panties into the hamper. Digging through her top drawer, she looks for one of her older ones, stretching it out in front of her amusedly. 

She walks outside, and Cole is pacing in front of Hayden’s car, gulping down a bottle of water while looking at his phone. He nearly flinches when he sees her, almost choking, and Jess looks at the water dripping down his chin as he coughs. Wasteful. 

“Hayden paying you by the job or by the hour?” Jess says, miraculously still not as sharp as she intended. “How would he feel if his mechanic was on his phone watching Reels?” 

“Nice to see you too, Jess,” Cole says, flipping his phone screen towards her. It’s a video, narrated by an older Midwestern man, featuring a car that looks as old as Hayden’s. “A part’s stuck, and I’m trying to figure out how to get it off.” 

Jess doesn’t have anything snarky to say (yet), so she grabs a folding chair and theatrically sets it up in the driveway. She pushes out a deep breath. “Whew. Gonna need a breather after that one.” 

Cole raises the volume on his video, eyes cycling between his phone screen and under the hood. 

Jess’s brows furrow. She bounces her knee, hoping the wind will blow her skirt up, and she can tease Cole for looking. “Yeah, Hayden just can’t keep his hands off me. With him, it’s just sex, sex sex. I’m surprised I can walk.”

“Uh, congrats?” Cole says, grabbing his socket wrench. There are a few clicks of the ratchet, followed by an elongated grunt from Cole. He breaths sharply through pursed lips, and the strain in his voice feels so…familiar. A harsher breath exits when a creak sounds. “Fucking finally.” 

Nope. She needs to snap out of it. 

“I bet you miss it,” Jess sneers, looking down her nose at Cole. He looks at her, only to raise his brow, before turning his attention back to what he’s doing. Clicks from a ratchet sound again, and it’s all white noise. She clenches her fists and walks over. “Why do you have to be like that?” 

“Like what?” Cole asks with worried brows, searching her face for anything to clue him into her grievances. 

“So nonchalant. Pretending you don’t care. Pretending like it’s not weird that we’re seeing each other after all these years,” Jess rants. 

“I’m here to fix Hayden’s car, not catch up with you,” he says, and his mouth curls down into the slightest frown. 

“Right,” Jess snaps, “You’ve always cared more about working than the people who matter.”

“Jessica!” Saddened eyes look up towards her. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t know that mattered to you, still.” 

“Not like I got any real closure,” Jess says, turning away. Her eyes start to burn. “I wanted to break up, back then, and you just said, ‘okay, fine.’ Was that supposed to make me feel good?” 

“I hoped it would,” Cole admits, putting his tools down and removing his gloves. “You’d given me countless chances, and I let you down one each time. I figured I was all out of tries. I didn’t feel like I was worth your trouble. 

“I was a bad partner. That’s…a full sentence on its own. There’s plenty of reasons why, but I didn’t show up when it mattered. I wasn’t in a good place back then, and I know I should’ve tried harder.” 

“You should’ve,” Jess says, crossing her arms and chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure if you put half as much effort as you do into being a mechanic, you’d make some girl happy. Not me, though.”

“We’ve run our course,” Cole says, grinning, “But I’m not really dating nowadays. Too many moving parts.” 

“Couldn’t you say the same about this kind of stuff?” Jess asks, pointing at the pile of parts scattered across the driveway.

“I guess, but I feel like cars are easy. They have manuals! There’s only so many ways you can fix something, and eventually something’s gotta work,” Cole explains. He flashes a smile, staring blankly at the engine. “With people, there are just an infinite number of ways to fuck up, and there’s not even a solid solution to all of them.” 

“Yeah,” Jess agrees. She punches his arm lightly. “Honestly, I’m surprised you do as well as you do. I feel like you need to have really good attention to detail for this.” 

“I notice things!” Cole insists. “You…definitely did not come from that sorry excuse for a quickie inside.” 

“Wha–what?!” Jess stammers defensively. 

“I know your moans,” Cole says with a smirk. “You were putting on a show. And I don’t know if it was for Hayden or me.” 

“Whatever,” Jess says, with nothing else to say. She motions to the car. “So, think you can fix it?”

“Definitely. But I’ll need some parts, I think. I texted Hayden about it, and I’ll be back tomorrow,” Cole says, starting to pack his tools. His eyes flit towards Jess. “Hayden. He’s good to you, right?”

“Better than you were,” Jess says, and Cole only shakes his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Just…attention to detail, I guess.”

“If this is about him not making me come, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Jess says, more defensive than she means to be.

“Do you ride in Hayden’s car often?” Cole asks, and he gulps hard when Jess shakes her head. He reaches in his pocket and puts his hand out. “I, um…found this under the passenger seat.”

Jess stares at a beige hair tie. “Okay?”

“I know it’s been ages since we’ve dated, but I’ve only known you to wear black hairties,” Cole starts. “This yours?”

“No…”

“This Hayden’s?”

“No.”

“I wish that were it. I found condom wrappers deep in his trash bag. A pair of panties shoved between the cushions. Handprints on the backseat windows.” Cole frowns. “I’m sorry, Jess.” 

Jess’s lips quiver. “You’re joking, right?”

“I wish,” Cole says, opening the back door to climb in. He motions for Jess to follow and points to the pile of things he’d gathered. “Guy code probably dictates I should’ve gotten rid of all of this, but as someone fluent in ‘Jess Deserves Better,’ I can’t leave you in the dark about this.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” Jess mutters. Grimacing, she puts her face in her palms. “I can’t even think of when he’d do this. We’re always together.”

“Not when you guys are at work,” Cole suggests, perking up. “Who knows? Maybe he’s cheating right now.”

“That is so not helping,” Jess says, glaring at Cole. Her eyes widen. “In my car? He’s gonna cheat on me with some hussy in my car?”

“I…should go,” Cole says, mouth flattening into a line, but Jess holds him by the wrist. He narrows his eyes.

“Whip. It. Out.” 

“Um, what?”

“Your dick!” Jess clarifies. “Pull down your pants and whip it out!” 

“I’m…not so sure this is the greatest idea,” Cole says. “I know you’re upset, but we shouldn’t do anything hasty—” 

A kiss brings his thoughts to a halt. Jess starts softly. Nothing too charged. It’s just a kiss. Cole can back out if he wants to. Except he doesn’t. His hands find her arms, and he presses harder. She can feel the quiver on his lips. 

“Jess…” he says, pulling away. With the sun lower, he catches a warm twinkle in her eyes. “Are you sure?” 

Jess nods, grabbing him by the back of the neck, putting her mouth near his ear. Soft kisses draw shudders from Cole. “I need to be fucked.”

“I thought Hayden had it covered earlier,” Cole jokes. “You said you could barely walk.”

She stops his teasing by pressing her lips against his again. There it is. Cole stops holding back, kissing deeper. He eases her down onto the seat, and Jess can’t help but think of how many times Hayden had done that to whoever he’d brought into this car. Seething with rage, she pulls Cole down to her, and a building hardness grinds between her legs. 

Jess pulls Cole’s shirt up by the hem, over his head. Whoa. His choice of clothes hides his muscles well. Definitely more built than he was years ago, and it looks good on him. She leans up to kiss his chest, and his chain hangs, swinging against her face. Reaching for his belt, his strong hands pin her wrists by her head as he kisses her deeper. 

Her lips part, and she whimpers, begging for his tongue. He gives it to her, and his hand cradles the back of her head, petting her hair softly. Cole looks into her eyes, and Jess tries to keep eye contact brief (even if she fails). Orange light glows softly along one side of his face, and a corner of his mouth curls up.

“To be honest,” he starts, hand wandering up under Jess’s crop top. He whispers against her neck, and the words leave goosebumps where she wants kisses instead. “I did miss this.”

“I have a fun surprise for you then,” Jess says, flipping her skirt up. 

Cole’s jaw drops as he stares at her panties. “Those…”

“Used to be your favorite.” She smiles, leaning up to kiss him. “I…put them on, just to tease you in case you saw them. But right now? I…need you to take them off.”

Cole kneels on the floor of the car’s back seat, shaky hands moving down to hook Jess’s panties. His hulking frame barely fits, and he mutters, “So freaking tight…”

“So am I,” Jess’s teases, lifting her hips. She grins when Cole’s fingers, rugged from work, graze her skin. It’s all coming back to her. In her mind, it’s four years ago, and this is just another spontaneous romp for them. One of the things that kept them together. “What are you gonna do about it—”

Jess brings a hand to her mouth to stifle a moan that slips out, and his tongue, lapping away down the length of her slit, sends jolts up her body. He’s always been fine at giving head, but this is different. “Fuck, did you get better at this or something?”

“Told you I missed this,” Cole says, muffled by her pussy as he licks up her juices. “I miss the way you taste.” 

She thinks of her brief quickie with Hayden earlier in the house. Jess really wanted to feel his mouth, and she wished he spent what little time they had doing that instead of giving her a few meager pumps before blowing his load. Scowling, she hopes whatever girl Hayden is banging gets an even shorter end of the stick. Cole sates her craving, though, and his tongue works wonders.

The tip of his tongue runs circles around her clit, and she whines when he stops. Jess looks down, and Cole is sucking his middle two fingers before teasing her entrance. He slides them in, and she gasps, legs quivering, feeling those thick digits ease in. “I miss how tightly you squeeze around my fingers.”

His tongue speeds up, and his fingers press rapidly against her sensitive, swollen spot on her walls. Breathing gets harder for Jess, and she clutches the seat, grinding into Cole’s face. The wet sounds coming from her pussy as he stirs inside her is way louder than they are with Hayden. “And I miss how messy it gets when you come on my fingers.” 

Jess offers a nervous smile, twirling a stray strand of hair. A noise escapes, resembling a laugh. “I don’t…really do that anymore.”

“Yeah?” Cole says, taking it as a challenge. “Why don’t I show Hayden how it’s done, then?”

He pulls out his phone and flips the camera towards Jess. His tongue flattens against her bud, and he licks her slowly, eyes locked onto hers. “Show him how pretty you are when you get your pussy eaten.”

She presses the red button to start a recording. Is this really what she looks like? From the way her body is bent, her tummy segments into rolls. Her mouth is wide open from pleasure, and her eyes are rolling back the more Cole hooks his fingers against her. 

“Just like that,” Cole tells her, voice low. His hands speed up, and his fingers stiffen pressing repeatedly against her sweet spot. 

There’s a basin inside Jess that she hasn’t felt quite this full in a while, and she breathes harder for it, trying to hold back. Jess’s hands shake, and Cole sucks his teeth in mock disappointment, grinning. “Hold the camera steady, Jess. Tell him how good it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good when he eats me out.” Each word is harder to push out, not because of remorse, because of how hard it is to think straight when Cole uses his fingers like this.

“You ready for the waterworks?” Cole asks. “Just like old times. I know you remember these fingers.”

Not a single word is a lie. Even though Cole’s mouth has improved, his fingers are just as good as she remembers. Jess has always loved the way he talks her through it. It’s like he knows just what to say to push her further along. 

“That’s it,” he says. “I know you’re close. I can hardly move my fingers from how tight you’re getting.”

Even still, he presses harder against her sweet spot. For a brief moment, Jess is blinded by pleasure. In that split second, she doesn’t even know what kind of noise she’s making. It’s probably shrill, filling entire car, echoing off the windows. She gushes, expelling violence spurts of clear fluid, and it splashes the front of Cole’s phone, droplets obscuring and blurring the lens.

Cole laughs, wiping his phone on his jeans before stopping the recording. His voice returns to normal, and he gets up to kiss Jess. “That should be fine right? You can send this to him and get your payback.”

Jess’s eyebrows are angry. Her eyes have a fire Cole hasn't seen in a long time. “I’m pretty sure I said earlier that I needed to be fucked, so get those pants off and fuck me like you used to.”

Cole starts undoing his belt, pulling his pants down. Jess’s patience runs thin; she pulls him to sit in the middle of the backseat, and straddles him, lifting her hips. She forces her hips down and the two groan together, holding each other tightly. She kisses him, only breaking to push out breathy moans. 

“Fuck, I miss that dick.” Jess bounces up and down, walls clenching around his length. His hands on her ass guide her, moving her body easily when her legs start to give.

He thrusts into her, holding her in place wrapping tightly around her body. He pushes her top up and pulls her bra down two free, her breast. Licking his lips, he gives each nipple ample attention, switching back and forth until her hand holds him down against one. 

“Why'd you stop recording?” Jess asks.

Cole grins. “I didn’t know you wanted me to keep going.”

“I had a great idea.” Jess rests her arms around Cole's shoulders while she bounces. “That asshole didn’t have the decency to eat me out earlier, and he promised to do it in the morning. Wonder how much he’d wanna do it when he sees me getting fucked.”

Cole props his phone up against the door. Their hurried movements shake the camera, and there’s barely enough light to show what’s happening, but their skin bumping against each other is context enough.

Everything in this car reminds her of what Hayden did to her. The hair tie. The torn condom wrappers. Handprints on the windows, more apparent now that the windows are fogged. 

Everything makes her see red all over again. She bounces harder, slowly losing herself with every deep press of Cole's cock against her sensitive spot. Jess breathes sharply through gritted teeth, cursing out loud, “Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna come on that dick—”

Cole keeps his grasp on her, holding the back of her head towards him. Between kisses, he says, “Tell me how much you miss this dick.”

“I miss it so much,” she whines, face forming into a sultry smile. 

“Show him how good you look riding this dick.” He holds her head gently, turning it towards the camera. Cole's lips find her cheek, moving down to her neck. Whispering agaisnt her skin, goosebumps gather. “Sooo beautiful.”

“I want you to fill me up,” Jess moans, and her eyes shut. Her head collapses onto Cole's shoulders. She grinds against him, barely able to bounce up and down, but Cole squeezes his hand between their bodies, fiddling with her clit to bring her the rest of the way there. Groans escape, and even if Hayden doesn’t fuck her quite the same way, he should know these moans and what they mean:

Right now, she’s Cole's. And with the last few bounces, Jess moans through heavy breaths. “Fucking fill me up.”

Cole coils his arms around her waist, and his hips buck wildly into her as he unloads rope after rope of pent-up cum. It feels neverending. Jess's walls tighten around him, contractions meeting every throbbing pulse. He goes until he can’t anymore, and Jessica climbs off of him, squatting in front of the phone, watching the way his cum drips out of her, onto the car‘s backseat.

She flicks off the camera. “Fuck you, asshole. Hope you like the taste of my ex’s cum.” 

Jess cuts the recording, and she falls back onto the seat. With arms crossed, her shoulders shake to the tempo of a breakdown ready to happen at any second. “I can’t believe he did that to me. I guess I’m no better.”

“Should we, uh, clean that up?” Cole offers, timidly pointing at puddles of squirt and spurts of semen all over the upholstery. 

“Just leave it. It’s what he deserves,” Jess says. She lays her head on Cole’s shoulders. “Any clue how I'm supposed to fix the situation?"

“Probably not what we just did,” Cole says, hoping to draw a laugh from Jess. It works. Well enough, at least. 

“A bit late for that. You're literally leaking from me,” Jess says with a smile, “I know two wrongs don’t make a right, but I think he and I were doomed as soon as you told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jess says, sniffling, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. “Showed me what kind of guy he really is, so I appreciate it. Even if it really sucks.”

“If you ever need anything—”

“What?” Jessica scoffs. “Like sex?”

“No,” Cole says sternly, resting his head on top of Jess’s. “Just a shoulder to cry on. Or someone to talk to.”

“Don’t think for a second, thatthis means we’re getting back together.”

Cole smiles. It’s not a smile asking for pity or sympathy. It’s a genuine smile, filled with warmth. “I know. I meant as a friend.”

“One hell of a way for a friendship to start,” Jess jokes, and she sits up, searching for her clothes from all around the car. She looks over at Cole's phone. “Do you think it’d be a bad idea to send them those videos?”

“If I had to guess, that’s probably a bit extreme,” Cole offers.

“You’re right,” Jess says, smoothing her shirt down her torso. “What if we just sell his hubcaps?”

“Jess.”

“Kidding. How much do you think we could get for them?”

“Jess!” Cole shakes his head as he puts all his clothes on. The two climb out together. “What if we…sign up him for those fake STI test results?”

“Oh, you’re good.” Jess laughs. She stares as Cole collects parts off the driveway and settles them in the garage before letting the hood close with a slam. “How much are you charging Hayden anyway?”

“Market value,” Cole says, “I didn’t charge him for labor, so I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

“How do you think he'd react if he found out his mechanic was fucking his girlfriend?”

“I’m hoping he never finds out, actually.” Cole looks at Jess with serious eyes. He walks his toolbox over his car in the trunk. “I’m serious, though. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Can you cut his brake lines?”

“Jess, c'mon.” 

“I know, I know. I appreciate it.” Cole opens his front door and Jess calls out. “I know today was weird, but I really am glad to know you’re doing okay!”

“Likewise!” Cole answers before climbing into the driver seat and shutting the door behind him. His engine powers on with a startling boom, and it’s kind of obnoxious. The exhaust has a low rumble to it, but there’s no way he could live in this neighborhood without someone throwing a fit.

Jess walks up to the window and knocks, laughing when Cole reaches over to crank his windows down. “Oh my God, you don’t have power windows?”

He taps on the side of his door. “This is a classic.”

She rolls her eyes. “So I know we agreed to be friends, but are we just friends friends or are we the type of friends that do…stuff?”

Cole laughs, shaking his head, but he smiles. “I prefer the former, at least for now, until you and Hayden break up. Then, we can figure that out.”

Jess watches him drive off until that obnoxious roar is nothing but a rattle in the distance and his taillights twinkle into nothing. After she stares long enough, she turns around to walk back into the house, glancing at Hayden‘s car. She gives it a kick, wincing when it hurts more than it helps her feel better.

She has a lot of feelings right now that she doesn't know how to sort. Cole was right; she wishes there were manuals to navigating difficult situations like this. Oh, what she would give for a nice long drive to sing her heart out. Ii

Synopsis: Melanie and Eric are one hell of a team when they’re scheduled at the same time, but she wonders if there are…other ways they’d work well together. 

Written for image 15 for the July contest!

~

The store needs help. With two call-outs this morning (one with a stomach flu, the other with strep), Melanie is drowning in orders. It’s not even the usual daily rush! From overheard chatter, Melanie puts together that there’s a convention in town. Her manager is doing what she can, jumping in where possible, while juggling calls to see if anyone is willing to pick up hours or come in early, but from her bleak expression, it’s not looking good. 

Ding.

Whenever that door opens, Melanie only feels dread. Her eyes flit towards the door, counting heads. That’s the bare minimum of drinks she’ll need to make, and God forbid they have more family members in the car. As the group walks closer, she steels her expression, throws on her best Customer Service smile, and the script begins—

“Welcome to Bundts and Brews. What can I get started for you today?” Melanie listens attentively, taking every detail down. A large double-blended cookies-and-cream coffee with whip and mocha drizzle (delicious but they may be waiting a bit), a medium dirty chai latte (easy enough), a large iced mocha, milk subbed for almond for lactose intolerance whip okay (what the hell??), and a small black coffee (thank God). 

Melanie tears each ticket as it prints out, sticking it on the counter, and stares at the backlog of stuff that needs to be started. She’s glad the roaster and steamer are near the register; multitasking is easier this way. 

After a deep breath, Melanie tackles the drinks one by one. A healthy mix of the oldest first, with easier beverages that can be done in tandem. Minding her milks and ensuring she’s not steaming too long, she builds a flow, and it gets easier in time. Completed drinks get their stickers, and she slides them over to the manager, who calls out the orders from the counter.

Ding.

Just one man, thankfully. Order pick-up, too. Perfect. A larger bundt cake with two-dozen mini bundts. The manager handles him at the register, and she calls out, not looking. “Melanie, can you get his order in the back? It should be bagged up already.”

Come on. It breaks Melanie’s flow, but she grabs it before handing it to the customer with a manufactured, corporate-approved smile. She returns to her drinks, and she’s maybe halfway done, on her way to get to the drinks from the family that just came in. Things are quieting down.

Ding.

Dammit, Melanie jinxed it. She groans, looking up briefly, but she perks up, seeing a familiar face. Eric walks behind the counter, clocks in at the register, and ties his apron behind his back. Melanie playfully bumps him with her shoulder, starting the blender for one of her drinks. “I thought you were closing today.”

“I am. Long day for me, I guess,” Eric says with a grin. “The cavalry is here.” 

Thank goodness, too. Eric is better at bar than Melanie, so he picks up where she left off, while she takes orders, offering help when she can. 

There’s a crash from the kitchen, and some distant cursing. The manager grimaces, looking towards Eric and Melanie. “I’m gonna check that out. You guys got this?” 

Melanie nods. As far as two-person teams at this store, it doesn’t get much better than this. Eric is in the zone, hyperfocused on pushing out drinks, and Melanie’s voice booms in the store, calling orders out. Customers are out the door faster. As the chaos from the kitchen only seems to pick up, it slows down in the lobby, at last. 

When the last customer is out the door, there’s a split-second eerie silence, broken up by a loud high-five. Eric cheers to himself, nudging Melanie. “Great job. I don’t know how you yell basically your whole shift? My throat gets scratchy after about two hours.”

“Practice, I guess?” Melanie offers.

“Training your throat is crazy work,” Eric teases, chuckling to himself.

“Shut up!” Melanie says, hitting him gently on the arm. “You know I didn’t mean it like that at all.”

Truthfully, she did mean it like that, at least a little bit. Melanie almost exclusively opens, while Eric is one of the only consistent closers at the store. That leaves little time for their shifts to overlap (though it does happen on occasion), and it’s for the best. Constant jokes. Teasing. Tiny touches when their hands brush. 

“Just fuck him already,” one of the mid-shift workers always jokes when he catches Melanie staring too long at Eric from a distance. Melanie convinces herself that the sexual tension is fake; it’s just banter between the two. 

But days like this, when it’s them alone at the front of the store, she’s not so sure. Eric’s wiping down the countertops, grunting as he puts more effort, and a heat builds in Melanie’s core. God, she wishes she could hear him make those sounds for her. When Eric washes his hands at the sink, Melanie stands next to him, letting their hips touch.

She clears her throat, gathering all of the courage in her body for a gamble. “You know, my throat is good for that kind of stuff too.” 

“Yeah?” Eric stares at her plump lips, and there’s the tiniest grin at the corners of his mouth, and when Melanie nods in response, he leans in. Melanie closes her eyes, letting him close the distance, and footsteps from the kitchen have them standing up straight before their lips can meet properly.

Eric tries not to laugh at the manager’s face, covered in flour, but Melanie speaks first. “Uh, is everything okay back there?” 

The manager shakes her head before releasing a muffled scream into her palms. “I’m going to the other stores or Costco—whatever’s faster, at this point—for more flour and paper towels. It’s a mess back there.”

She looks at Melanie. “You’re in charge.”

“I’m literally older than her,” Eric says out.

“You’re literally less responsible,” the manager shoots back. “You didn’t leave any notes to restock on the paper towels last night!” 

“Ah, fair enough.” Eric laughs nervously. 

The two wish the manager good luck, and Melanie looks up at Eric, ignoring the heat across her cheeks. She licks her lips, fiddling with the stitch of her apron’s pocket, and flashes a smile towards him. “So….uh, where were we?”

“Oh, I think…” Eric scoots closer, checking first that they’re still alone, before pressing his lips softly against Melanie’s. She expected chapped and rough, but his lips are soft. He’s more gentle than she’d expect. Slow, too. Before she can deepen it, Eric pulls away, grinning. “...we were talking about your throat. And how good it is. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly?” Melanie scoffs, feigning offense. She closes in and catches a smile on Eric’s face before she takes another kiss. Her hand rubs the front of his apron, and she feels the outline of his member. There’s a twitch under layers of fabric, and Melanie backs away, eyes flitting up towards Eric’s, grinning. “I can prove it.” 

He smirks, raising an eyebrow, looking all around them. “Right now?”

“No manager. No one else up front. No customers. No cameras?” Melanie shrugs. Her hand doesn’t let up, and she gets a good idea of just how big Eric is; she’s happy to know her suspicions are correct. “I’m always down if you want to find out, but if it’s not now, the very earliest it could be is after your shift tonight. I get it if—”

“Okay,” Eric says after a gulp. “If you’re as good as you say, you won’t need long.”

“What’s that say about you?” Melanie jokes, getting down on her knees as Eric undoes his pants, pushing them down. An unmistakable hardness pokes up behind the apron, and Melanie grins as she lifts it to lick along his shaft. Looking up at Eric, his expression is priceless. He usually has the upper hand in their conversations, keeping his cool, but now? He’s completely at her mercy. 

She kisses along the sides of his hardness, loving the feel of his veins against her plump lips. Melanie almost forgets where she is, and the idea of sucking cock on the clock gets her imagination running. With an opportunity like this, with no one to interrupt them, this is as good a time as any. 

Her lips wrap around his tip, sucking gently, and his tip pulses in her mouth, tickled by her slow touches. She sucks, allowing more of him into her mouth as she takes a hold of his ass. His muscles clench under her grasp, and she lets her lips travel down his shaft. Quiet curses from Eric encourage Melanie to suck harder, and she bobs her head, pulling a groan from Eric’s lips. 

Melanie bragged earlier about her throat skills, but has yet to show him any. She breathes slowly through her nose before plunging him deep into her mouth. No gagging, no tarnishing of her perfect record. It’s her favorite party trick to show off, despite not getting to utilize it as often as she’d like. 

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” Eric says, groaning. He leans forward, clutching the countertop. He looks down at Melanie, and the way she looks at him could make him melt on the spot. With some encouragement, he pushes into her mouth, thrusting back and forth. God. Too much of this, and he pulls out, panting harder than Melanie does. 

Her hand strokes along him lazily, and she traces her lips along the side of his dick, slurping up what spit she’d left behind. With a grin, Melanie takes Eric into her mouth again, instantly going as deep as she can, then inching down for the rest. Grabbing him by the balls, squeezing them gently, she feels him throb in her mouth. 

Ding.

Fuck. While Eric fumbles for his pants, Melanie holds his hands to stop him. She backs up, under the counter, and she makes out one set of footsteps heading towards the register. It’s not the manager; she would’ve gone straight to the back. Melanie makes no point of stopping, stroking and twisting Eric’s cock while swallowing him up.

“H-hey,” Eric starts, stuttering through the usual greeting. “Welcome to Bundts and Brews. What can I get started for you today?”

Melanie’s grip on Eric’s sack tightens, and his gasp goes unnoticed by the customer. The countertop shrouds most of his face, so she can’t see every reaction, but she can see his mouth twisting in desperation. His cheek hollows when he bites the inside.

“How are the bundt cakes? Have you tried them?” the customer asks. 

“Oh, they’re—” Eric’s nails threaten to dig into the countertop from how tightly he grips it. “—really good. Not too sweet, which I like.”

Melanie wishes she could say the same about the pre-cum that leaks out of Eric’s tip. That taste is addictive. Sweet enough to drive her wild and wish for more. She slurps him up as Eric starts to pump into her mouth. Her tongue massages his tip and she strokes along him, hand gliding from all her slobber. She’s always been a bit sloppy, going overboard when giving head, but she has yet to hear a complaint. 

Eric winces, biting a lip to contain his moan, and his knees shake. He’s pulsing inside, and despite his efforts to hold back, a generous amount of pre-cum pools on Melanie’s tongue, and she swallows it down without an issue. “Yeah, we can do a vanilla bundt cake for you. Extra glaze….yeah…we can make that happen. Total is $17.38.”

Melanie takes him out of her mouth and strokes him as fast as she can. She stares at his tip and the way it throbs. Eric does well to keep his composure; he goes through the rest of the checkout process, chatting the customer up, even starting on his drink. 

His hand is shaky when he writes the customer’s name on the cup, and he finally lets out a groan when the milk steamer is loud enough to hide his voice. Eric backs up, just enough to take a look at Melanie, and she flashes a smile, lapping at his leaking tip. 

A few more strokes do him in, and he pushes forward, spurting out thick ropes across Melanie’s face. She grins, nuzzling her face against him, letting him cover her cheeks and chin as she feels him throb in her hand, milking out every drop.

When the customer walks away after asking for the bathroom code, this is Melanie’s best chance to scurry to her feet. Before she can walk off, Eric grabs her wrist, staring in disbelief at the mess he’d left on her face. “Wow…” 

Melanie breaks eye contact, blushing. “I’m gonna go get the customer’s bundt cake.”

“Extra glaze,” Eric calls out, and Melanie rolls her eyes, unable to stop the smile that crosses her face. 

The kitchen is shambles. Staff are yelling at each other, running around for the mop, and in the midst of the mayhem, they hardly notice Melanie walk in. She searches for a paper towel and grimaces when the dispenser is empty. Right. That’s why the manager is gone. 

It is what it is. She grabs a vanilla bundt cake and a nearby piping bag, adding some extra icing to the top of the cake before putting it securely in a plastic takeout container. Melanie’s brows furrow when she walks back to the front and the customer is waiting at the counter, sipping her macchiato. 

She should feel dirty. Ashamed. Yet, there's a thrill she can't explain. 

“Your bundt cake, ma’am?” Melanie holds the container out towards the customer, initially content not to make eye contact. Heat rushes to her cheeks, resting behind hot cum, still dripping down her face. This moment lasts forever, and she makes the mistake of looking up, to meet the customer’s widened eyes. Self-consciousness tears her gaze away, and she mutters, “The piping bag exploded, so I guess both the cake and I got more than we signed up for this morning.” 

The customer laughs, taking the cake, thanking her, and walks out. Melanie darts her head towards Eric, and he grins, handing her a wad of napkins.

“Grabbed these from the cafe,” Eric says. He smiles. “I’m surprised you had me come on your face.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That I look like the swallowing type?”

“Uh…” Eric pauses, feeling bad instantly, but Melanie kisses his cheek once her face is wiped dry. 

“Kidding. How about next time, then?” 

“Next time?” Eric repeats with a grin. 

Melanie smirks in response, pointing towards a crowd walking towards the door. “Look alive. Looks like lunch rush is about to start. Ready?”

“Always,” Eric answers, tightening his apron. 

~

The manager comes back, hours later, almost more annoyed than when she left. While mostly muttering unrepeatable complaints about the other stores, she has nothing but nice things to say to Eric and Melanie, thankfully. With minimal mess on bar, and the mid-shift staff well into the groove, she lets Melanie clock out at last (not that she minds the extra half hour of pay). 

“Eric, go ahead and take a 30,” the manager says, reading the schedule. 

“I’d prefer to save it for tonight,” Eric offers.

“You’ll get that one too. You did me a solid by coming in when you did. It’s cool, get outta here. Get some fresh air,” the manager tells him. “Also, can you start the dishes when you come back?”

“Got it,” Eric says, already untying his apron as he walks to the door. 

Melanie walks up beside him, bumping him to throw him just off course, and he looks at her, smiling. “Wanna…grab something to eat? Since you have some time.”

His smile fades, and he yawns. “I’d love to, but I think I need to take a nap in my car.”

While that should’ve been the end of it, Melanie tries her luck one last time. “Need company?” 

“You need the nap too?” Eric offers with a chuckle, reaching over towards Melanie’s hand. His finger hooks hers, and she follows him, enjoying the bump of their arms. 

Melanie’s stomach flutters when his doors unlock. “I promised I’d swallow next time, didn’t I—” 

Eric quiets her with a kiss, and she feels like she’s floating when his arms wrap around her tightly. Her head spins when he pulls away, and they work their way into the backseat. Eric’s voice is low as his eyes look into hers. “It felt so good earlier.”

“Ready for more, then?” Melanie offers with a giggle.

“I had a different idea,” Eric says, working his way to the floor of his car. His hands flip up the front of her uniform skirt, and she lifts her hips towards him playfully. He leans in, kissing through her panties, spurring a shudder from Melanie. A finger pulls the gusset aside, and he kisses her lower lips, sweetly, before taking a taste of her. He grins. “Mmmm.” 

Wow. He sure knows what he’s doing. Eric’s tongue laps eagerly, and Melanie spreads her legs as a means to ask for more. Moans fill the car—hers mostly, though his are muffled against her pussy as he keeps licking. A finger inside arches Melanie’s back off the seat, and his lips locked around her clit as he sucks has her writhing. She clutches the upholstery of his car, humping into his face, and she puts a hand on the top of his head, clutching his hair, pulling him into her wetness. 

He adds a second finger, and Melanie is near inconsolable. She wants him so badly, and her sharp moans grow more frequent. Melanie’s glad for a lot of things. She’s glad his windows are tinted. She’s glad Eric usually parks far from the other cars. She’s glad he found a shady spot, too. She’s glad the car isn’t too hot.

Thought that last part slowly becomes less true. The longer he heats her out, the hotter she feels, especially deep down in her stomach. Melanie pulls her shirt off before sweat has a chance to soak through it, and when Eric adds a third finger, her eyes widen. “FUCK!”

It’s a tight fit, and she clenches tightly around Eric’s fingers, but she loves it. They wiggle inside her, pressing against an engorged spot deep inside her, and his tongue laps wildly at her bud. Her breaths build up, truncated and frequent, and her vision starts to blur. She can blame the heat in the car, but the pleasure is dizzying. 

Pressure increases from his flattened tongue, and her head slams against leather as her eyes shut. Her core tightens, and she feels herself contract around his fingers. Her mouth is agape, though not a sound comes out as she rides wave after wave of pleasure. Melanie pants, brows wrinkled in disbelief, and she uses what energy she has to undo Eric’s pants. 

Melanie hooks her panties off, rubbing her pussy, watching Eric undress. She’s so wet, unless all of that slick is from him. Perhaps she’s like him: messy when it comes to giving head. That hardness from earlier steals her attention. 

Eric takes his place on top of Melanie, and he guides himself against her slit. The graze of his tip against her clit causes a moan by itself, but she grips his arms as he works his way in. The sloppy mess down below helps him slide in, and he bottoms out immediately. 

He doesn’t go too fast, which works out. It lets Melanie feel every inch as he drives his dick deep inside her. Melanie grips him with every thrust, and she feels so empty when he’s not inside her. Eric never teases her for long, putting her whimpers to an end with every deep press of his hips.

The kiss that follows takes Melanie’s breath away. The humid air building in the car doesn’t help, but she can taste herself on Eric’s tongue. He grunts, grinding his hips against her, and she holds his face down to hers.

“You tasted so good,” Eric says when his lips pull away for a breath, and he closes the gap immediately, pressing his tongue against her mouth. 

“Better than a bundt cake?” Melanie jokes, and her smile disappears when sharp moans exit, one for each of his hard thrusts. 

“See, I can only do a bundt cake every couple of months,” Eric admits, sitting up to throw his shirt aside. “But I’d love to taste you every day.”

Melanie fights a blush. “You’re sure you won’t get tired of it?”

Eric shakes his head. He nearly growls, “You looked so hot when your face was dripping with my cum.” 

“Have you ever iced the bundt cakes in the back before?” Melanie asks. 

“Uh, no?” Eric answers, raising a brow. His hips don’t give up as he’s pressing deep, rubbing his tip against her sweet spot. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re doing a pretty good job at piping me,” Melanie giggles, eyes curling into happy crescents.

“You and your jokes,” he says through a grown. He kisses down her chest, teasing her nipples with his tongue while giving the other breast a squeeze.

“Those jokes must not be that bad if you’re balls deep inside of me,” Melanie teases. Her eyes roll back when he only fucks her harder. “God, that’s good. I’m glad we finally got to do this.”

“Me too,” Eric says, breaths growing farther apart. His strokes slow down, but it doesn’t stop him from going as deep. “Fuck, I wanna glaze you all over again.”

He pulls out, jerking himself on top of Melanie. She can’t quite tell if he’s aiming for her chest or stomach, but she gets a better idea, reaching down to grab his dick—one hand tightly gripping his base while the other strokes along his length. 

“Did you know there’s multiple ways to ice a bundt cake?”

“Is this a set up for another one of your jokes?” Eric asks, reaching down to put his fingers inside of Melanie again.

“Nope. One of them is like earlier, where I aimed all over my face so a little bit of everywhere gets covered. It takes longer that way, but it ends up looking the nicest.” Her hands slow down, and Eric groans in protest, humping into her closed fist. “The other way is much more fun, but…it’s messy.”

“What is it?” Eric asks, and Melanie‘s convinced he’s only half listening, thinking with his dick. She throws him a bone, aiming his cock back towards her entrance and raising her hips to meet him. He gasps when his tip meets her soaked slit. 

“You basically fill the cake right in the middle until it overflows along all the side,” Melanie explains. She grabs his waist, pulling him deep inside, and he collapses down on top of her. Their mouths meet, and she tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth, flashing a grin. “I want you to do that second one to me.”

“Wait,” Eric says. Those hips don’t stop, and his lips find her neck, kissing it and taking gentle bites while his hand rests on her ass, pulling her up towards him. “You're sure?”

When Melanie nods, that’s all Eric needs. He slams his hips into hers, repeatedly grinding against her sweet spot, and with one last deep delve, she feel every single throb and twitch of his dick.

“Holy fuck, that’s so much,” she cries, bucking her hips up into him. Melanie uses every bit of hardness she can before he softens inside of her, grinding her clit against him. Eric winces, his tip likely getting sensitive, but Melanie wraps her  limbs around him as her hips slowly lose control. She whines, “Just hold on a little longer. I’m sorry.”

Cries fill the car as Melanie grips him hard, body spasming under him, and her moans fizzle into whimpers when his lips find hers. The two collapse, panting, covered in sweat. Eric pushes himself out and sits up, letting Melanie‘s legs rest across his lap.

Her eye twitches when she feels a glob leak out of her. “Is it always that much?”

“I guess so.” Eric stares with a shrug. He watches at the way Melanie's pussy throbs, overflowing with his cum. It drips out, onto her legs, and onto the seat. Flinching when his alarm blares, he sighs to himself. “Shit. I kind of needed that nap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted time eating me out,” Melanie says with a smirk.

“Was it really a waste? You looked like you were enjoying it.”

“Shut up,” Melanie says, rolling her eyes. She grabs her shirt and panties, quickly putting them on.

“Melanie,” Eric starts, face a little unsure. “A lot of this today has been spontaneous but—”

“You don’t want things to get too serious,” Melanie says, feeling a tightness in her chest. She should have suspected. “I get it. It’s all good. I’m down for something casual, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I’m saying it’d be nice if we didn’t just have to rush everything you know? Like earlier, you had to rush off for the customer's order, and right now, I’ve gotta leave for work.” He sighs. “I don’t know. I’m more so the type that loves to just chill naked after sex. Nice and slow. No obligations after. I…like the intimacy. Call me mushy but—”

“I’d like that too, actually,” Melanie admits, looking up at him. “We could do something more structured. Just let me know when you’re free.”

“Do you think I could grab some food for us after I get off work tonight? And come over to your place?” 

Melanie laughs. “You know I almost only do opening shifts, right? I eat dinner early and pass out way before you usually do.”

“Of course,” Eric says confidently, “but I saw the schedule. You’re not working tomorrow. That’s why I offered.”

“It’s a date, then,” Melanie agrees, pulling Eric in to kiss his cheek. “Sure you won’t be too tired?” 

“I’ll be fine,” he assures. “I have a good way of staying up.”

“Coffee?”

“How excited I am to see you again.” 

Melanie sighs, half ready to roll her eyes. Maybe they’re meant for each other, after all. Pursing her lips to hide a budding smile, she shoves him playfully after he puts his uniform shirt back on. “Whatever.” 

Written for image 07 from the June prompts! 

Other tales: Prompt 15 | Prompt 19

~

“Safaa has a tradition of visitation for her late lover's place of burial every year,” Vatro, the bard, starts, strumming a string of his lute at a steady cadence. “I hear you had quite the encounter this year. Do tell, and spare not a single detail!”

“You speak of tradition, Vatro,” Safaa says grinning, “but is it not commonplace for the most sultry stories to be delivered by one of your songs?”

The bard bows courteously, giving his lute a strum. Eyes are on him, and he smiles. “If you insist.” 

~

Kane was the love of Safaa’s life. Forced together on a quest one day, they couldn’t be any more different, but two things bound them together: insane chemistry with a libido to match.

They were notorious in the Adventurer’s Guild for taking their sweet time back to the hall to claim the rewards for their completed quests. Making camp on their journeys back was a love they shared—as was making love under the stars, long after their bonfire had snuffed out.

When Kane was felled by a dragon, Sadie was completely distraught. Her soulmate was gone, and a few men she’d used to get over him never measured up or held a candle to his passion for her. It was just empty, shallow sex that left her missing her beloved more every day. 

Truly, he was the only one for Safaa. 

On the anniversaries of Kane’s death, she would spend the day near his grave. A basket would be filled with their favorite foods. She would talk to him about her life: the kind of quests she’d finished recently (as well as the bountiful rewards), the companions she’d met, the new grimoires she’d acquired.

When she was illuminated by nothing but the candles she lit and slivers of moonlight through the tree, Safaa would look around. She required solitude. Time alone with her late lover. Safaa knelt on the blanket, spreading her legs wide. Her fingers would find their way between her thighs, and she’d grind against her hands and close her eyes, imagining she was riding Kane all over again. That hand of hers was her constant companion when she missed him (which was more often than not), but she never came harder than when she was fucking herself with her fingers above his grave. 

Maybe it was the eerie tranquility in the dead of night. Maybe it was the way the hair on her nape never quite relaxed, knowing someone could be leering from the shadows. Maybe it was the thrill of being caught and reprimanded. Punished, even. 

When the sun set this year, Safaa didn’t take her usual position. Safaa pulled out her latest grimoire, a tome dedicated to necromancy. There was a spell for everything, and with her creativity, a good night awaited. She could reanimate his body, fill it with vigor to restore it to his prime, and trap the blood in his member until he was harder than he’d ever been.

She recited her incantation with her eyes closed and a wide grin. Safaa could hear the sounds of the Earth splitting open. When she opened her eyes, the being that stood before her wasn’t her late husband, but a demonic presence, skin a deep, muted blue, towering above her, staring at her with malicious intent.

“I’ve been summoned,” he told her. “Mortal, what business do you have with me—Ag’run,  Archduke of Lust, Subjugator over all things Sex–that I should arise from my ring of Hell?” 

“You’re not my husband,” Safaa said, eyes widening, clutching the fabric at her chest. “What have you done with him?”

“Your beloved cannot be brought back by near necromancy alone. A soul costs a soul, and if you were not prepared to pay the price, you don’t deserve to reap the benefits,” Ag’run said. “The spells you performed are misleading. I am sorry to disappoint.”

Safaa tried not to stare at the way his vile member hung between his legs. Whatever creature or demon he was, he was quite large, surpassing Kane in both length and girth.

“The mortal body is temporary, but lust is eternal. As am I,” Ag’run said cryptically. “I am an empty vessel which you can pour your lust into while your hunger is sated. My appetite is bottomless. I can grant you a night like which you’ve never known, if you so wish to experience it.”

“I do,” Sadie mouthed, overcome by a sense of deep heat between her legs. The phrase took her back to her wedding with Kane, though right now, she accepted a very different kind of union with Ag’run.

“A mortal such as you has not known the power of Ag’run. I do not believe in gentle, and all those who summon me must know the gravity of the situation. To give in to my temptation, and join me in debauchery, you must submit to me in totality.” His voice boomed, and his eyes never wavered. “Do you?”

“I…I do.” Sadie stared at the way his member swung as he walked, and she even closed the distance, crawling to him on all fours.  

“Pay tribute with your mouth before I decide if you deserve to be filled by Ag’run,” he commanded, looking down at the woman.

Safaa could barely fit her hand around his member. She stroked the best she could and lowered herself to suck on the dangling dick as if suckling milk from a teat. The taste on his skin was vile but erotic, and the more she played with him, the larger he grew, exciting Safaa immensely.

The demon grabbed Safaa by her locks, holding her still, and he thrusted to the back of her throat. She was astounded by how much more length he had left, untouched by her lips, but he made sure to change that, forcing himself deeper until it drew tears. Safaa’s breathing became difficult. “That is indeed such a skilled mouth. Many would yield, facing my adversity, but you’ve exceeded my expectations.”

Ag’run removed himself from her mouth, giving her a chance to breathe. Safaa stared up at him as the tears dried on her cheeks. Her words came out as a silent prayer. “Use me. Use my mouth.”

“A thing for punishment, eh?” Ag’run grinned, grabbing her head tighter still, pulling her forward and back in along his hardness. Safaa let her head flail, relinquishing control to his rugged hands. Ag’run’s grip did not let up, not that she minded. Just as he was an empty vessel for her to displace desires upon, she too was empty, as she had not been properly filled in years.

He breached into the back of her throat, slamming repeatedly. Safaa looked up, meeting his cruel eyes that practically sneered at her, not as a plea for mercy, but instead for more. She was dripping wet.

“Was your beloved quite as endowed as I?” 

“Uh-uh,” Safaa muffled, shaking her head around his cock. He granted my throat some rest instead, bulging his massive member through the sides of my cheeks. She had no idea the skin had so much give, but she had never once been used quite like this.

Her lips locked around his dick while both her hands stroked along, twisting in the opposite directions, gliding from her residual slobber. The demon groaned, humping into her, and the three points of contact seemed to work wonders for him. 

The vicious cock filled her mouth within an exorbitant amount of seed—much more than her mouth could handle. Yet she was insistent on not spilling a single drop. Breathing grew difficult. She gulped down what she could, even if more thick cum took its place. Every desperate gulp swallowed down as much as she could, and she sucked him and slurped him, stroking along his length until not a drop remained.

To her surprise, that release did nothing to abate his hardness. He was still raring to go, throbbing. With Kane, they were used to taking things at their own pace. Long breaks between romantic romps. They were in no hurry.

But urgency dripped between her legs. Safaa squeezed her thighs together to snuff out the desire—to no avail.

She stumbled, falling back, catching herself on her elbow, staring at his demonhood, frozen in place not by fear, but desire. Safaa’s smile widened. Was she always this depraved?

Her ankle felt so tiny in the beast’s grip. He yanked her leg, and she fell onto her back, surprised still when he lifted her higher, holding her upside down by an ankle. When her dress flipped down, revealing her lack of undergarments, he licked his lips.

His other hand gripped her by the ass, and he lifted Safaa up higher still, until her dripping wet heat was inches from his mouth. Ag’run’s breath tickled the inside of her thigh, and she anticipated sweet kisses as Kane would, but he instead bit down on her flesh. His teeth were not sharp enough to break skin without ample force, but he toed the line, testing her willpower and resilience. Winces turned to sharp moans. She did nothing to resist, only allowing him to do with her what he pleased.

Safaa gasped when he pressed his mouth against her, lapping wildly. Maybe it’s the blood rushing to her head, but thoughts race around her mind. So good. It’d been too long.

His ravenous appetite has him eating her from the inside out. Ag’run’s tongue wiggles into her, and the familiar warmth and pressure of a tongue reminds her of Kane, even if he never had this level of enthusiasm. The demon’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly while a hand works its way up to her ass, parting her cheeks and letting a finger wander and trace her rim. 

She can feel him poking through the fabric of her dress, and she pushes it up so that her face is no longer obstructed. Safaa leaned her face against him, feeling how hot he is against her cheek. Her mouth felt unoccupied, and she wanted another taste of him. Her lips teased his tip, and her tongue licked along the ridges of his thick cock.

Any attempts at teasing were put to rest when a hand on the back of her neck pushed her mouth onto his cock until her lips kissed his hilt. Ag’run humped into her head while his tongue worked her clit and slit. What a messy eater he was; Safaa felt his saliva dripping down her skin. 

Safaa crossed her ankles behind the demon’s head, and this spurred him to thrust harder, easing her down to the ground atop her blanket. 

He spit on her pussy, rubbing it rapidly with his hand, glancing towards Safaa before plunging deep into her mouth. She felt her face drive deeper and deeper into the softened dirt. When his mouth returned to her entrance, sucking her clit while finger worked their way into her, it was agony. An unmatched arousal from having her face fucked above her late husband’s grave. 

She hoped he would forgive her. 

Kane was only a memory as her thoughts filled with Ag’run’s skilled tongue, and her hips bucked into him, out of control as she succumbed to the pleasure, unravelling beneath him. His hips followed, and he was deep into her throat, pulsing against the stretch of her esophagus. A groan signified another massive load, and Safaa, pushed him out of her, lest she drown and choke from his cum. She stroked him with both hands, aiming his head at her with her tongue presented to him. Violent spurts painted her face, coated her tongue, and shot to the back of her throat. 

What a mess he made, and Safaa was intoxicated by the feeling of his heat scattered all over her face. She basked in the afterglow of her climax, barely feeling the Ag’run worked his ways between her legs, pulling them up towards him.

Blood rushed to her head again, and with every slap of that thick appendage against her eager, wet slit, she cried out, begging for it. Every time she reached for it to stroke or angle it into her, Ag’run would swipe her hand away. 

Just the thick tip parting her lips was enough to make her expel a breathy groan, and when he thrusted all the way in, Safaa nearly screamed. A hand wrapped her mouth, muffling her moans, and Ag’run leered down, smug at her reaction. “Silence, my princess. Or you’ll wake the dead.” 

Ironic. Safaa meant to wake Kane, but she awoke something else instead. Not just a demon, but a deep-seated desire and need to be fucked mercilessly. This was a stark contrast to the lovemaking she’d known with Kane. 

Where she’d known tenderness, Ag’run gave her the pounding of a lifetime. Tip to hilt, digging deep into her. While she was used to fingers stroking her skin gently, she sucked on his, lapping her juices off of those demonic digits. His other hand gripped her calf as he drove his hips into her. 

He was so thick, and every grind of his tip into her sweet spot made the stars in the night sky twinkle harder. The candles she’d lit earlier had long extinguished. The moonlight wrapped around each of Ag’run’s muscles, and all she could make out was the vague silhouette of him thrusting in and out of her. 

His fingers, coated with Safaa’s spit, slid and rubbed along her clit, pushing her to come, tightening around him. His thrusts slowed down, not to give her reprieve, but because her grip fought against him, despite her need for more.

As he grinned, he groaned, looking down at Saffa. “Shall I soil that pretty little dress of yours?”

Safaa shook her head, reaching up towards Ag’run but his sizable hands pinned her wrists down above her head. That strong grip kept her hands in place, and all she could do was grind against him. Moans broke her thoughts into smaller, digestible phrases. “Please…fill me…Ag’run…please…I need it…your cum.”

She gasped at his absence, whining when his first thick rope coated her plump pussy lips. It was so hot against her skin, and she disappointment welled tears in her eyes that dried quickly when he thrusted back in, slamming until he expelled the rest of his essence into her. 

Safaa panted, grinning at the way her hole leaked inhuman amounts of cum. Ag’run withdrew himself from her, and let her legs drop to the ground. Her heart ached, desiring something tender, but she knew better than to expect it from Ag’run. He faded from view as abruptly as he was summoned. 

While Safaa did not have the warmth of her beloved, even the cold marble against her cheek gave her solace. Her bent knees widened, and her fingers found the slick mess between them, driving the cum deeper, scooping it out, and repeat. Moans climbed as she played with herself, slowly (the way Kane always did). Ag’run’s gifts he'd left for her, dripping down her face and between her legs, left her needing more. Safaa turned towards the headstone, nuzzling against the blanket, reminiscing all the nights she and Kane had spent together on it.  “Kane, my love, I don't know if you saw any of that, but your wife had such an incredible time just now…if you were here, I just know you would clean me up so well…Just know I'll always be yours…” 

She groans, humping into her hand, letting the load soak her fingers. She grins until her mouth parts, pushing out a guttural groan. Her free hand scoops cum from her cheeks against her lips, and she licks them clean. Chanting Kane's name, she comes with the lingering taste of cum on her tongue. “I love you…I love you…”

~

“I’m surprised that the demon did not cause you to forget about your former lover,” Vatro says.

“Can’t a woman have two loves?” Safaa asks with a grin. “Kane will always have my heart, though Ag’run now knows my bed.”

“Perhaps you will see him sometime in the future? Before your next visit to Kane’s grave?” Vatro suggests. 

“Perhaps tonight, even.” Safaa smirks before drinking a sip of wine.

Written for image 19 for the June contest!

My piece for 15 follows the same format, with different content. If I could, I’d have written for all of this month’s fantasy’s prompts like this, but alas, the end of the month is coming up fast haha. Great work, everyone!

~

Hal loves when the Guild Hall is lively. Familiar faces everywhere. Days like this—bountiful banquets—were the real reward. Everyone could come together and share stories of their exploits, unwinding after perilous quests and dangerous battles. Food and drink makes the story sweeter when you share all of this with friends. 

Vatro, the bard, clinks Hal’s glass. “This past full moon, young Hal here sorted out the issue of a rumored haunted, seaside cabin. Care to share, Hal?”

“No one tells the story how you do,” Hal says, hiding the blush on his cheeks with a hand.

Vatro strums his lute to begin a sweet melody.

~

Hal looked at a quest that had been on the Guild board for far too long. It was a higher rank request to investigate screams coming from a distant cabin near the beach.  

He chose a funny time to accept it, thunderstorms and ominous aura. The closer he got, his hair stood on end. When he finally spotted it at the distance, warm candlelight the singular window. His culprit was likely home. 

He had to tread carefully, but on his walk to the front door, the light extinguish, and the air chilled. Still, he trudged on, taking a peaceful approach first, and knocked.

A woman answered, sporting, a pink bob with bangs cut straight across her forehead. Her oversized cloak hanged off one of her shoulder, and she fixed it, catching Hal sneaking a glance. “A visitor at this hour? You’re soaked. Why don’t you come in for some tea?”

“Sure,” he agreed reluctantly, taking the seat across from her at the table. The woman poured a cup and the aroma was sweet.

“It’s fresh,” she said. “Hot tea is the perfect remedy for chilled bones, especially after a rainstorm like this. What brings you here?”

“The Guild posted a quest,” Hal said, taking a sip and the heat simmered in his stomach. It was pleasant, and it brought a smile to his face.

“For what exactly?” the woman asked, a grin forming. She loosened the tie of her cloak, and Hal got another peek at her shoulder.

“Screams in the middle of the night,” Hal answered, feeling warm, suddenly. His eyes watched fabric fall down the woman’s arms, and soon he took in the sight of her bare breasts illuminated by moonlight. His pants felt tight, and he tugged the collar of his shirt. “Say what’s in this tea?”

“A mix of my own. Notes of chocolate, a splash of cherry, cava root, and damiana. So if you are familiar with botany, you may know the latter two ingredients as—“

“Aphrodisiacs,” Hal finished her sentence.

“The screams are from my visitors. Not of pain, but of pleasure. I am nothing but a gracious host, so I ensure that my guests leave satisfied.”

Hal gulped. He took his own cloak off, letting it fall to the ground, and the rest of his clothes followed. The cabin felt impossibly hot, even with everything stripped off.

“Things you’ve never seen. Sensations you’ve never felt. Would you like to try?” the sorcereress asked.

“Y-yes,” he stammered, dick twitching at the anticipation.

“Stand, then,” she ordered, and he did without a second thought. While the concoction affected his physiological state, it did nothing to affect his inhibitions. The woman wielded no powers of mind control. Everything Hal did was of his own free will and curiosity.

She knelt before him, licking her lips, and stared up at his member. Her eyebrows flashed. “That’s quite the weapon you’ve drawn. I have a thing for swallowing swords. Shall I find out how deep I can take you?”

Hal nodded, and he watched her take him into his mouth slowly, but surely. She breathed through her nose, skillfully grabbing his hips, holding him in place and lowering her head. Inch after inch disappeared into her mouth, and the cherry on top was the fact that she kissed his hilt without so much as gagging once.

“Impressive, no?” she asked, taking his balls into her hand, squeezing them and doing it all over again. 

Hal groaned in response, pushing into her mouth, moving faster. She welcomed it, and he saw her smile around his throbbing dick. Her eyes closed and she got lost in the act, loving every inch that filled her mouth. Moans muffled around him.

“So big,” she said, mouth full of cock, and she took him out of her mouth to trace her lips and tongue along the side of his shaft. She backed up against a wall, spread her legs and invited Hal closer with a finger, motioning between her legs. “Come here…”

He crawled to her on all fours, ready to devour her, if that’s what she wanted, but she shook her head, pushing him to turn around with his back to her. Scooting back, her breasts pressed against his back, and perky nipples poked his skin.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, stroking along his length with her toes. With his throbbing member between her soles, she slid up and down along his shaft, gliding easily from her leftover spit and slobber. He moaned at every sensation. It was agony every time she stopped. Granting him mercy, she pressed a foot against him, feeling him throb, while the other petted along the length of his hardness. With a grin, she asked, “Have you ever received a footjob, adventurer?”

“Never before,” Hal admitted. “I’ve heard tales. Had curiosities myself, but I’ve never been brave enough to inquire.”

“How brave are you, adventurer?” she asked, whispering into his ear, nibbling at his lobe, sharp nails scratching along his chest. “This is nothing.”

“I want it all. I want what you use to make your visitors scream.”

“As you wish, adventurer,” she answered, kissing the back of his neck. She chanted her spell, “King of the sea, of the deep, grant your power onto me. King of the sea, king of the deep, grant power onto me.”

With each utterance of the phrase, glowing tendrils phased through the walls, floor, and ceiling. From all directions, slime-covered tentacles worked their ways towards Hal. He gulped as a tip traced along the bottom of his shaft. The mucus that coated the unsightly appendages wasn’t as viscous as he imagined, barely thicker than saliva, but I fared better for lubrication without drying out. 

The tentacle seeped and leaked the longer it pressed against Hal. The gentle tracing was agonizing, especially when it concentrated on his tip. It coiled around him a few times, all the way up his shaft, wrapping tightly, moving up and down with the same rhythm of the sea’s lull. Slowly, smoothly. Calm waters teased him until the tentacle’s tide increased, stroking him faster, squeezing him tighter, sliding along and pulling groans from him.

Little suction cups and along the tentacle’s length locked and loosened against the sensitive, velvety skin of his dick. They tugged him, and when they paused, he found himself thrusting into the coil.

A second tentacle traced his balls, tickling it, sticking along it. Every sensation was good, augmenting the one wrapped around his cock. It traveled lower, tickling his tight hole, and he gasped, looking back at the sorceress. “W-wait—“

“Portals connect us to otherworldly beings. In a way, your hole is a portal to help connect you more deeply to your body,” she told him, kissing his neck, turning his head until his lips met her. She repeated her question from earlier, “Are you brave?”

Hal nodded, and she deepened her kiss. Her arms held him, soothing him with gentle touches, calming him when a tentacle wrapped around each of his legs, pulling them apart and bringing his knees back to his body. He whimpered for her, eyes pleading.

She shushed his lips, silencing him with a kiss. “It’s just a little help. You will tell me if it’s too much, yes?”

Hal smiled, bracing himself as he felt a tip tickle his taint. It circled his rim, tracing along it, and it placed pressure against the puckering hole. His hands found the witch's thighs. He squeezed them, enjoying the plump give of her flesh. 

He gasped when the tip entered him, and a sharp exhale helped him relax, taking more of it when the witch cooed sweet nothings into his ear. The deeper it traveled, the thicker it felt. It made him want more. 

The appendage inside him delved farther, reaching depths he didn’t know existed. This was the first time he let his hole be used. He’d always thought of it as dirty, but the pleasure of being stretched was unmatched.

Cups latched and unlatched along his length, moving faster, sliding over his dick, spurring him to leak beads of pre-cum. The witch trailed her fingers across Hal’s tip, gathering the clear fluid, bringing it into his mouth.

He sucked her fingers, dry, anxious for more, offering his tongue, but she only smiled. “So eager. We have to wait for more to come out, adventurer.”

His eyes darted open when the tentacle taking his ass pressed a certain spot. When it pressed harder, Hal heard the witch hun in his ear, eager to hear the moans that slipped from his lips.

Once another sweet bead leaked out Hal, the sorceress fed it to him again. He eagerly licked at her fingers, sucking on the tips, eventually letting his mouth take her entire digits.

She enjoyed his spirit, whispering into his ear. “Good job. You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell with how much more pre-cum is leaking out.”

When he nodded, she smiled, pressing a sweet kiss against his neck. “Do you want it harder? Do you want me to ruin your hole and stroke you faster?”

“Yes…please,” he begged, clutching at her thighs. “What do I need to do to deserve it?”

“You just have to sit there and let me hold you,” she answered, grazing her nails across his chest. The witch scratched harder, threatening to break skin, and he moaned in bliss.

With a wave of her fingers, she instructed her summons to pick up their tempos. The coil around his cock sped up, gripping tighter around him, and the one penetrating him delved deeper, pressing firmly against his sweet spot.

Hal leaked more with every thrust and the sorceress could barely keep up with feeding him. With a sneer, she took a taste for herself, licking her lips clean of his flavor. His breaths deepened, elongating, and his back arched away from the witch. Her toes sliding along his sensitive head threatened to overflow the pleasure building inside him.

“Do you know what would make me really happy?” The witch asked with a smile, and Hal looked at her with parted lips, eyes glazed in ecstasy, awaiting her request. I want you to eat your own cum. Can you do that for me?”

Hal stammered. “I can t-try.”

“I love cum, but I’m not so greedy that I can’t share,” she told him with a smile. With his permission, she urged her tentacles to go all out. Hal’s hole was pounded, and his swollen, engorged spot was pressed without mercy. Absolutely relentless. His cock is choked by how tightly the tentacle twisted around it.

The witch spread at her toes to slide down the top part of Hal’s cock, grinning to herself, and he spilled all over his chest and stomach. One spurt even reached his lips. He howled and his voice echoed into the night.

“Lick your lips clean,” she told him, and he did without questioning, shuddering at the flavor. “Just like that.” 

She scooped a glob up with her finger, bringing it to his mouth. Hal eyed the pearly white gathered on her fingertip and his lips parted, accepting her gift, and he sucked the seed off of her, massaging her finger with his tongue.

Post-but clarity hit him hard. While the taste was not bad, his arousal dwindled, slowly fading. The witch showed no showed no sign of slowing down or stopping, entranced to by the act. She cooed in his ear, sending goosebumps down his neck. “There’s still so much…can’t you finish it?”

 He hesitated to answer, smiling nervously.

“I know. It’s so hard after the moment has passed.” She motioned to the mess on his torso, and a tentacle scooped every last drop up, wiggling in her direction. “Do you think it would taste sweeter if it came from my lips?”

She sucked on the tentacles tip, lapping up every drop of cum, letting it pool in her mouth. “If you still want it, come kiss me.”

Hal held the back of her neck, pulling her in until their lips crashed together. His essence filled his mouth. They pushed the sweet treat back and forth. The kiss lasted longer than expected. It felt like an eternity before they broke to breathe at last.

“Good boy,” she said with a wide grin, rustling his hair and kissing his forehead. 

~ 

“The witch was certainly something fierce, but the screaming is seldom heard these days. How did you chase her out of the cabin?” Vatro asks. “Please, Hal. Tell us your secrets.”

“Chase her out?” Hal repeats with a laugh. “I didn’t do anything of the sort. I just…told her to cover my mouth when I come. Much quieter that way.”

Glasses, clink, and laughter erupts all around him. In a good mood, he leaves a few gold coins on the table. “Enjoy a round, on me!” 

“Won’t you stay for a spell?” Vatro asks, flipping a coin between his fingers. 

“My temptress awaits,” Hal says, winking, greeting his guild mates on his way out. 

Written for image 15 for the June contest! 

For another Tale, check out my image 19 piece!

~

Ryva loves when the Guild Hall is lively. Familiar faces everywhere. Days like this—bountiful banquets—were the real reward. Everyone could come together and share stories of their exploits, unwinding after perilous quests and dangerous battles. Food and drink makes the story sweeter when you share all of this with friends. 

Vatro, the bard, elbows Ryva’s side as she takes a swig of beer.

“On the first day I met Ryva, she was standing on the side of the road with a sign around her neck: LOOKING FOR GROUP: Lv 1. ROGUE. No plate armor, no mails, no leathers. Nothing!” Vatro says. “Ryva, you have to tell us the story of that night before.”

“I dare say you tell the story best,” Ryva grins, resting her chin in her hands, watching as Vatro tunes his lute. 

~

Ryva looked through the market, hugging the shadows, trying to blend into the crowd. It was her dream to be an adventurer, but the startup costs weren’t cheap. She needed a little more than what she had, which was a modest set of leather armor, hardly thick enough to block a blade or shelter her from a spell.

She eyed some plated vambraces on the wall at the blacksmith. They were pricey, and she certainly didn’t have that much money on her. While they were in plain sight, the blacksmith was distracted, talking to a customer who asked about some items in the window.

Ryva could just take it. She looked at the item, then back at the smith. She’d stolen things before, but nothing beyond trinkets and pieces of fruit. Nothing this expensive.

She hoped she had the skill level to pull it off, but she tried anyway, leaving it up to chance. Ryva carefully grabbed the set of vambraces off the wall. They were heavier than she thought, and when she stumbled, from the weight, they fell to the ground with a clank.

Fuck. That was a critical failure if she’d ever seen one.

“Hey, you have to pay for that—“ the smith said as Ryva shuffled to her feet, clutching the item to her chest. She tried to juke him, slipping just out of his grasp, but she heard his voice behind her: “Guards! Get her! She’s a thief!”

She lacked the dexterity to escape properly, and she found herself locked up, belongings seized and stripped down to her flimsy black thing with her luscious breasts out on display for all the guards to see. How embarrassing.

The choice was hers: twenty days locked up, or five years mining for enchanted gems. 

Easy. The short sentence was worth it: a fair her dignity. Ryva sneered when the guard walked away. Wincing, she pulled a lock pick from her under her thong. 

Sanitary? No. Comfortable? Also no. But she kept a spare with her at all times, just in case. The lock looked easy enough to—

Fuck. It was just fail after or fail for her today. Her luck was at an all-time low. She told herself she would get better. If only she had a chance to practice, but when it mattered, she just didn’t have the experience required. Not even close. 

When the first patrol meandered by, she called out to him, “Hey, come here!”

He walked closer, and she cleared her throat, delivering the deal of a lifetime: “You can stare at my tits all you want, but if you want something else…I can show you what’s behind this tiny thong. But you have to let me go after.”

“Nice try, lady. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait! What if…give you a blowjob!” 

The guard stopped in his tracks, turning around. His helmet shielded his eyes, but his silence is at least moderately telling. Whatever Ryva lacked in stealth, she made up for in charisma.

“You think you can just blow the guards and we’ll let you walk away?”

Ryva smiled nervously, and the guard laughed. 

“I’m just messing with you. Sure,” he unbuckled his pants and shoved his hard dick through the bars of the cell. “Make it good, okay? Or I’ll have to reconsider.” 

She took it into her mouth hesitantly, and the tang of dried sweat and a musk is nearly enough to make her give up. Still, this was all she had. Ryva swallowed him up, and her lips travelled along his length. 

She bobbed her head, looking up at the guard, and he groaned like mad. You would think it’d been a while since he’d had any action.

The guard got eager, pushing deep deeper. His armor clanked against the bars of the cell with every thrust. Ryva didn’t want him making too much noise, so she held him against the bars, letting her mouth do all the work. With every slurp, she let more of him in, until he reached far to the back of her mouth. 

“You dirty, little, thief slut,” he said. “I should just take you back to my place after this, and you can be my own personal cockslut.” 

Those words caused Ryva to suck faster, and she used one of her hands to stroke him along his length, twisting it, while she kissed and sucked the tip. She worshipped his cock, treating it like it was her last meal before the death sentence.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d love that,” the guard continued, “I’ll fuck those fat, juicy tits, and smother them in my spunk.”

He throbbed inside her mouth, and she could tell that he was getting close, even if he stifled his moans.

She sucked with more vigor, slapping his raging-hard cock against her flattened tongue. “Do you want to come in my mouth or all over my face?”

“All over your face,” the guard grunts. “I want everyone to see how filthy you are when you walk home in shame.”

Ryva jerked him, aiming towards her face, and he sprayed her with violent spurts. He shot ropes all over, coating her face, reaching even as far up as her forehead. She grinned, licking stray seed off her lips, and wiping some to clear her eyelids. It was more than she anticipated, and she eyed the lock. “A deal is a deal, right?”

“You agreed to blow the guards, earlier,” the guard said, smirking as he pulled his pants up. “Plural. You gotta blow the entire barracks tonight before you walk away.”

~

Vatro sputters a laugh. “Ryva, how many guards were working that night?”

“Twenty,” Ryva answers blankly, “but do you guys wanna know the best part?”

With a strum of a cheery chord, Vatro calls out, voice brimming jovially, “Tell us, Ryva!”

When all of the table has her attention, she stands, putting a leg up on the table, flexing her arms. “I stole the keys off of him, and he didn’t even realize, so I let myself out when he walked away! The guard went to tell his friends, and I gave Nineteen guards blue balls that night!”

Cheers echo around the table, and Vatro nudges Ryva again. “Do you think you could’ve done it, though? Blown all twenty men?”

Ryva looks around the hall. Quite a few new faces. Some very handsome ones. She shrugs. “Who knows?”

Synopsis: Failed expectations, a lack of openness, and mindlessness are a recipe for disaster. Bryce and Ava are trying so hard to make long-distance work. A month in, and everything should be easier, except it’s not. Bryce’s roommate, Frédérique, has an…unconventional way of helping him. 

Written for image 16 for the June contest! Part of the Ava/Bryce series! Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3. Part of this story happens concurrently with Part 2, so that recontextualizes things a little bit. 

~

“How upset would you be if I stayed…one more month here in Paris?” Bryce asks, pursing his lips and pausing. The silence from Ava’s side of the line is eerie and does not bode well.

“It’s not like you said ‘yes,’ right?” Ava asks hesitantly. There’s the tiniest shake in her voice. “Right?”

“I…sort of alluded to the fact that I’d be open to it. Frédérique doesn’t have the next renter lined up yet, so technically, I’d still have a place to stay, at least,” Bryce explains. It’s not like before where he’d have to scramble for somewhere to live. He’s accounted for. 

“Bryce,” Ava says, and he can hear her sigh heavily, “You didn’t think to ask me first?”

“I’m asking you now, aren’t I?” he says, regretting his sharp tone. “And it’s not like I committed to it. I just said that I might be open to it.”

“But you didn’t even mention it before…” Ava says. “How soon did you know?”

“Like, last week, if anything?”

“Last week?” Ava repeats in disbelief. “Bryce…”

“Listen, I’ll tell them to make sure that it’s not set in stone, and I still have to weigh my options,” Bryce offers as an olive branch.

“You’re considering it?” Ava’s voice shrinks towards the end of her sentence. 

“At least a little bit,” Bryce says. “I assumed you’d be happy. You were one of the people excited for me to come to Paris in the first place! Ava. I remember telling you that I’d decline so someone else can go—just so I wouldn’t have to do long-distance—and you were really insistent that I went.” 

“I know, I know,” Ava says. Her voice drops. “I felt bad. I didn’t want your life to be put on hold because I’m going through some things now. But that was when it was just going to be two months! I miss you, Bryce. I feel like we’re growing further apart, and it’s only been a month of you being away. What are we gonna look like two months from now?”

“We’ll make it work,” Bryce insists. “I’ll try to be better about texting back. We can be more consistent about phone sex.”

“Phone sex isn’t the answer to everything!” Ava shoots back, but there’s a laugh in her voice. She clears her throat, hoping to keep her composure. 

“It’s all we have, Ava,” Bryce says, hoping to lighten the mood. “At least on that front.” 

“And that’s why I’m on the fence about you staying another month,” Ava says. Another sigh escapes, deeper, and Bryce can tell how frustrated she is. “I’m sorry–I have to go now.”

“Wait,” Bryce starts, “shouldn’t we talk this out at least?”

“I can’t right now, Bryce. The bus is almost here, and you know how that one grumpy passenger is, always shooting dirty looks when I’m talking on the phone with you.” Ava’s probably rolling her eyes now.

“I thought your car was done?” he asks.

“I told you already that the shop was waiting on some parts. This is what I mean, Bryce.” Ava huffs. “I feel like you’re not paying attention to the stuff I tell you lately. Or things are getting slipped under the rug. I just—never mind. We’ll talk about it later.”

Ava hangs up and Bryce grimaces at his phone. He looks at his roommate, Frédérique, and shakes his head.

It had been a month since Bryce moved to Paris for work. It was hard, especially knowing that his girlfriend Ava didn’t have a job and had just been kicked out of her apartment. They made it work; His roommates back home would cover his part of the rent, and Ava had a place to stay. She’d recently started a new job, but the adjustment is always tough.

He felt bad knowing that he wasn’t there to help Ava through it. 

He felt even worse, knowing that he was cheating on her with Frédérique. It was a more recent thing. He really tried to stay strong in the first few weeks, but things escalated over time.

Peeks at her panties turned into glances through the glass while Frédérique was in the shower. Masturbating next to each other—making sure not to touch the other—turned into coming inside Frédérique’s mouth. Days later, they had sex for the first time in a dingy alleyway. Raw. Spontaneous. The thrill of being discovered. Ending in him filling her up. 

Guilty was an understatement. Bryce and Ava have never had sex without a condom, yet he’d creampied Frédérique more than times than he could count. It wasn’t like he chose her instead of Ava, though sometimes he liked to double dip and have fun with his roommate while he and Ava had phone sex. Certainly not his proudest moments, but he had to admit part of the thrill was trying not to get caught. Ava was none the wiser, moaning to herself, while Bryce helped himself to her mouth pussy or even ass.

His phone dings, and it’s a text from Ava:

If you wouldn’t tell me about something as important as work, who knows what else you’re hiding…

By now, Frédérique is on her knees, between Bryce’s legs, easing his pants down, stroking him slowly. She glances at the phone and smirks up towards Bryce. “Think she knows?”

“I hope not,” Bryce says. “It would break her heart. She’s always thanking me for the things I’ve done for her, so I feel obligated to be the best guy I can for her. Ava deserves that much.” 

“Not sure this is helping,” Frédérique says, brushing her hair back and taking him into her mouth. Her lips trail down his length slowly, and her tongue massages along his hardness. “Why do we keep doing this then?”

“Do you hate it?” 

“The opposite.” 

“The expectations she has for me can be suffocating,” Bryce starts, frowning. He moans, pushing his hair back, “and it’s nice to let loose like this.”

“You should take that extra month here,” Frédérique tells Bryce with a smile. “I’ll let you let loose as many times as you want.”

“I don’t know if I should,” Bryce mutters. “You heard Ava. And I do miss her.”

Her mouth flattens to a line, but her eyes warm. Frédérique strokes, and she takes a lick along the side of his shaft. “I imagine it’s hard for you both, having to navigate the distance and miscommunication. It’s easier in person. You’re almost forced to tackle the issue. Plus, make-up sex.”

“Yeah.”

Frédérique gets to her feet, dusting her knees off and walks away with a flirty wave. “Think you can finish yourself up? I’m gonna get dressed. Gotta pick up my friend's dog.”

“I thought that was next weekend,” Bryce says weren’t we gonna watch Lupin all day today?

“My, you are forgetful,” Frédérique teases, smiling. “Do you really like the show or what we do during it?”

“Am I allowed to say both?”

Frédérique rolls her eyes with a grin and walks off, pulling the back of her shirt up to ensure Bryce gets a good look: a black thong. They make her ass look excellent. “I’ll be back later.”

Bryce gets up from his seat and quickens his pace, and follows until they’re in Frédérique’s together. With a grin, he asks, “I’m sure we have time for a little bit?”

Frédérique thinks to herself, tapping her lips, looking up towards the ceiling. She takes a seat at the edge of her bed, spreading her legs, leaning back to support herself on her elbows. Her hips lift, and she rolls them playfully. “Your French has gotten better. Why don’t you show me how much ta langue has improved?”

He smirks. Clever. Langue translates to both language and tongue.

Bryce peels her panties off, and he lets them hang around one of her ankles when she digs her heel into the mattress. He lowers himself to her slit, and the heat coming from it makes him want her all the more. His thumbs part her coarse hair, and he licks along the length of her entrance. She’s so wet, and he catches the scent of their incessant fucking from the night before.

He shudders, flattening his tongue to slowly lap every bit of flavor on her. “Oh, you taste amazing.”

His hands grow restless. One finds its way into her slit while the other skillfully undoes his pants, pulling them down just enough to bring his cock into the open air. He strokes himself to the rhythm of the curl of his fingers against her sweet spot. The tip of his tongue tickles around her clit, and he catches a glimpse of a grin.

She extends her foot down towards his dick, draping her damp panties over his tip. “That’s the most I can give you for now. Hope that’s okay.”

It’s plenty. Bryce wraps his hands around the fabric, gripping it against him, and letting it slide along his hardness. Cursing to himself, he lets his tongue work Frédérique’s clit, flicking quickly. His lips close around her, and he devours her like it’s the last time he’ll get to taste her (he knows that’s not the case at all). 

Breathy moans fill the room, and Frédérique’s hand grips Bryce’s head, keeping it against her muff as she grinds into his face. Frédérique gets louder, and the cries she belts out with praise for Bryce make the fatigue of his tongue worth it. Still, he isn’t satisfied letting her come just once. Closing his mouth around her, he lets his lips travel along the swollen bud’s. His fingers flick faster, and he grins, lapping what juices he can.

When Frédérique arches off the bed, another climax on the horizon, her ankles lock behind Bryce’s neck, trapping him while her thighs squeeze against his cheeks.

He’s throbbing in his hand. Her taste. Her smell. Her used panties wrapped around his dick. It all works together to push him to his limit. He spills into black fabric, and rope after rope soaks into the fabric, pearly white seeping through.

Frédérique’s voice crescendos before falling into a needy whimper. She pushes him off, burying her face into her bedsheets, and her body spasms when aftershocks pass through her. A low laugh slips through an incredulous smile. “Fuck.”

She sits up, half in a daze, and she points at her soiled panties before putting a palm up. Bryce tries to hide the disappointment on his face, but returns them to Frédérique, watching in surprise as she puts them on. 

“So hot…” Bryce says, mesmerized.

“I’d say it’s pretty tame. I think of it like a gift from you while I’m out and about.” Frédérique shrugs. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but you and Ava…are you—how you say—vanilla?”

“I guess so?” Bryce mutters. “She’s my longest relationship, and we have good sex, I’d say. We don’t need anything crazy.”

“You don’t, like, pull her hair? Get a little rough ever? Fuck her face?” Frédérique asks.

“No, I could never do that to her,” Bryce answers. “I love her too much.” 

“What’s that have to do with your sex life?” Frédérique picks his brain, jumping into a pair of jeans. 

“Isn’t all that kind of stuff the thing that, uh…sluts do?” Bryce pauses, seeing Frédérique’s face twist. “Or….?”

“Did Ava say that? Or did you assume?” Frédérique proposes, laughing when Bryce doesn’t answer, instead looking at his fiddling fingers. “You talk about expectations, but aren’t you doing the same thing for her?”

“You’re right.”

“After you make up with your Ava, ask her what she likes. She may surprise you. You may surprise yourself.” Frédérique walks to the door and turns back. “Do you think you could throw my laundry in while I’m out? Just…make sure everything makes it in. I wouldn’t want any of my used panties to get lost.”

Bryce knows that smile well. It’s permission. An invitation, either. And when Frédérique walks away and he hears the front door close, he wastes no time digging through her hamper. 

Before he forgets, he messages Ava back:

I promise I’m not hiding anything. I’m really sorry about not mentioning the work extension. I won’t keep you in the dark about work stuff again. I love you, Ava 

I love you too, Bryce. Texts are gonna slow down; I just got to work! I hope you got to eat earlier!

~

Bryce puts Frédérique’s laundry in, and quite a bit of time passes. She sure is taking her time, but Bryce imagines she’s getting a quick bite to eat with her friend before bringing the dog back.

It works out for him. He lies on the couch, staring at the clumped-up panties in his palm, bringing it up to his nose for another whiff. He remembers this lavender pair fondly from a few days ago, and the smell might as well be fresh. God, she smells so good. He checks the time. It should be about Ava's lunch break.

But first, he figures he can have a little bit of fun. He pulls his pants down and rubs the fabric along his member. Soft satin soaked with her scent meets the velvety skin of his dick. His hips buck into it, and he’s hard in no time. He wraps around his cock, jerking quickly, making sure as much of it is covered with her panties.

He wants to hear Ava’s voice. He calls her, and he’s glad she answers right away. “Hi, Ava. Is now a good time? I’m…thinking of you, and I just…fuck. I need to hear your moans.”

Ava lets the line hang, looking for somewhere private at her job, and she talks quietly. That sweet voice always sends goosebumps down his spine. 

Bryce fixates on the panties wrapped around his dick. When he closes his eyes, he thinks of Frédérique riding him. Slowly. Sensually. Moaning. Ava’s moans break him from the fantasy. “I should’ve packed a pair of your used panties in my bag so I could sniff them whenever I missed you.”

He loves Ava’s moans. “You must be so tight. It’s been so long since I’ve felt it…”

Guilt finds him again. Ava must think Bryce is deprived, but just last night, Frédérique and he went at it for hours. Round after round. Needy sex. He didn’t even go back to his own bed. They’d rest for a few hours, and wake up, illuminated by moonlight, only to start all over again. The birds chirped, and they started the morning, filling the room with the unmistakable stench of sex. 

Memories of all of his romps with Frédérique push him farther, and he explodes all over his chest. His head is light with pleasure, and he uses the last of his energy to wipe himself clean with Frédérique’s panties. 

Her voice is like a soft melody, even if it feels distant. Consciousness is fading fast, and he’s losing track of what’s real and what’s blending into a dream state. 

Ava is talking about things she wants to do with him when he gets back. Things he’d never expect. She wants raw sex. To be overflowing with his cum. For him to use her throat choke her. She calls herself a slut.

Frédérique was right. There’s more to Ava than Bryce thinks, and he’s never given her the space to explore that. Things to look forward to. 

If he wasn’t so spent, he’d try to stroke himself until the blood gathered in his dick again, but it’s impossible. His vision blacks out, and all he can catch is a few words from Ava:

“I love you.” 

“Love you too,” he mutters back, and passes out.

~

He woke up after a brief power nap, but he called Ava back when he woke up. Genuinely, it was good to hear her voice, and they chatted mostly about work. This time, he made sure to listen.

The door opens, and Bryce watches as a brown and white dog dashes towards him, waiting patiently in front of him with his leash in his mouth. 

“Don’t give in. We just came from a walk,” Frédérique says, smile widening when she sees a familiar pair of lavender fabric with dried, crusted pearly white stains. “Someone was busy.”

“Sorry.” Bryce snags the panties and shoves them behind his back. “So this is Chance?”

“Yup, he’s a sweetie pie. Very well-behaved, so dogsitting will be a breeze.” Frédérique holds up a bag while turning on the TV to put something on. “We have the weekend’s worth of food, and he’s pretty self-sufficient. He likes to watch Lupin, so you may end up getting your marathon, after all.” 

“I don’t think I’d be comfortable with him watching,” Bryce says, side-eyeing the dog. “Call me vanilla all you want, but that’s a hard no.” 

Bryce winces when he’s hit in the face with heavy denim, and he pulls it away, looking at Frédérique with a dropped jaw when she’s standing on the stairs wearing nothing but her bra and panties. She’s holding up a bottle of wine.

“I’ve been thinking of the…gift you gave me earlier,” Frédérique starts. “I’d like more than that.”

He’s happy to oblige, following her to his room. Bryce looks back at Chance, who takes his spot on the couch. The dog calms when the opening credits start, and Bryce only laughs. 

When he gets to Frédérique’s room, she’s sitting on her bed, beckoning him closer with a finger. Bryce walks closer, and immediately Frédérique gets to removing his pants. He takes the bottle of wine from her, thankful it’s a twist-off cap. Before Bryce can take a swig, Frédérique steals the bottle from me, letting the rim rest on her bottom lip as she tips the bottle up higher and higher. 

Dark red pools in her mouth, overflowing down her lips, and she pulls Bryce down by his shirt, guiding his mouth to her chin. He laps up what spills, kissing her, tasting Merlot on his skin. Bryce didn’t come upstairs for wine; he came upstairs for Frédérique. His lips press against hers, and she kisses back. 

Frédérique tilts Bryce’s head back and feels wine drip down into his mouth. He swallows it gratefully, looking up at her. Bryce takes the bottle, gulping down a generous mouthful, enjoying the warmth that settles in his stomach. 

“You were right, Frédérique,” Bryce says, standing up to grab her waist, sliding her panties down. He unclasps her bra while she helps him out of his shirt. “Ava probably does want to try more than what we already do.”

“What kind of things does she like?” Frédérique asks with a grin, kissing Bryce’s jawline. He shudders under her lips, feeling gentle nibbles on his neck.

“Doesn’t it bother you when I talk about her?” Bryce asks before pressing his lips against hers.

“She’s your longest relationship. I’d be surprised if you didn’t talk about her. All of this—” Frédérique motions between them before reaching down Bryce’s boxers to give him a few strokes. “I don’t care that I’m the only one that has your attention. You want me so badly that you can’t resist, even if it means cheating on your precious Ava.” 

Bryce takes a handful of her cheeks, squeezing them firmly while his tongue wiggles its way into her mouth. He bites her lip, overjoyed when it spurs her to kiss him deeper. “I like to think of it as a learning experience, like at my job.” 

“Working at a sister branch isn’t exactly like cheating on your girlfriend,” Frédérique says with a smile. She pauses, and her face invites vulnerability. “Is…there something you wanted to try?”

“Ava mentioned a lot of things,” Bryce says. “But she mentioned facefucking, and I just want to make sure I’m doing it right—”

Frédérique laughs. “Oh, Bryce. You always say one thing when you mean another.” 

He searches her face for an answer.

“Are you really thinking of Ava?” Frédérique asks, squinting her eyes, as she gets closer to Bryce’s ear. “Or are you thinking of me? And how much you want to do that to me?”

“Am I allowed to say both?” Bryce asks cheekily.

Frédérique only laughs as she climbs onto the bed, lying on her stomach with he head hanging off. Her hands grab Bryce’s hips, guiding him closer, and she licks him. Slowly. Along the sides of the shaft. Against every ridge of his sensitive tip. She wraps a hand around him, holding his base tightly, feeling his throb, while sucking the top part of his dick. 

“It just feels such a cruel thing to do to someone,” Bryce says hesitantly. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“But cheating is okay?” Frédérique asks, grinning before taking as much of Bryce into her mouth as she can muster. She takes him out, stroking him while she kisses and sucks his tip. “That’s the wrong message to get from facefucking, Bryce. It’s not something you do to someone; it’s something you do with them.”

Bryce groans, trying to listen, but for how good her mouth feels, Frédérique makes it difficult. 

“She does want it hard, and she feels comfortable with that because she’s trusting you to take care of her,” Frédérique explains, licking along the bottom of his shaft. “Right now, you’re going to fuck my mouth. And you’re going to go as fast as you want. As hard as you want. As deep as you want. Hold me anywhere you need to. Pull my hair. Do it all.” 

Bryce guides his tip in between Frédérique’s lips, and a palm holds his stomach in place, stopping him from going deeper. “But if I tap your thigh, you stop. Understand?” 

He nods.

“It is a lot of power to have over someone, and that’s why self-restraint is important.” Frédérique grins. “Now let's get some practice in so you can be a pro by the time you go back home to Ava.”

Frédérique gasps around Bryce’s cock when he shoves himself in until his hilt crashes into her lips. Her eyes meet his, and the corners of her lips curl around his dick. One of her hands finds its way under her, and she rubs her clit, flicking away as Bryce slams into the back of her throat. 

Bryce balls her black hair in his clenched fists and holds Frédérique in place, putting more power into every stroke. The muffled noises of Frédérique’s throat drive him wild, as does the way her tongue travels along the bottom of his hardness. The heat of her mouth feels incredible. Frédérique’s eyes glaze over the longer he goes, her hips grinding into the hand beneath her. 

He thinks of Ava. A few times, she’d shown interest in this before. Bryce always believed she offered for him, but he should’ve taken her up on that offer. Wishing he could see his girlfriend choke on his dick like this, he thrusts harder into Frédérique’s mouth, breaching past the entrance to her throat. 

It’s hard to admit he likes the sight of the tears welling in Frédérique’s eyes. It’s a physiological response, and that eye contact is something fierce. Her fiery spirit and willpower shine through. When he hears her gag, his attempt to ease up is interrupted when she shakes her head around him. The slightest smile that follows is everything. 

Bryce pulls out, of his own volition, and Frédérique gasps for air, grinning widely, chin dripping with slobber, lewd bubbles of spit blowing with every deep breath. She grabs his hips, bobbing her head on his cock, wrapping her lips tightly around his shaft. 

“You learn fast,” Frédérique says, slapping his dick against her tongue. “I knew you had it in you–”

He silences her, plunging deep into her throat again when a hand on the back of her head pulls her down. She moans around him, focusing her attention on her swollen bud while he uses her throat. Bryce rests a hand on the front of her throat while the other pulls her hair to look at him. With every thrust of his cock, he can feel the prodding bulge of her throat against his palm. 

His hand wanders down to her ass, and he gives her cheek a squeeze, biting his lip. “Can I smack it?” 

A thumbs-up gives him the go-ahead, and he slaps his palm against Frédérique’s ass. The ripple of her cheeks is a sight to behold, but the red tint of her skin and slight wince is what spurs him to spank her again. His hand collides with her ass again, and a thunderous clap follows, punctuated by a deep moan, muffled by his cock. 

Bryce eases a leg onto the bed, next to Frédérique’s head, for leverage. It lets him thrust harder. God, she’s so good at taking this. Her lips tighten around him with every pass of his shaft through her mouth, and he’s throbbing, ready to blow. He slows as first, but powers through, ready to come deep down Frédérique’s throat. Just a few more…

He backs out when Frédérique taps his thigh, and she sits up, panting for air, and she stares up at him. “Too much?” 

Frédérique shakes her head, but she grabs Bryce by the neck and pulls him down on top of her. She uses her heels to kick up, scooting them higher. Her hands wander all over his body: along his ass, waist, back, neck, before settling on the back of his head to tug his hair. Eager lips sloppy kiss anywhere they land: his chest, neck, jaw, until they find Bryce’s mouth. 

“I need you to fuck me,” Frédérique whispers against his lips. He’s never seen her quite this needy. The phrase repeats, quieter this time, no louder than a whisper. “I need you to fuck me.” 

Bryce doesn’t think twice. He angles his hardness against her slit and slides in without an issue. The mix of her slobber and wetness helps him glide in and out, and he gives it to her hard. Holding her waist, he pistons in and out, angling against her sweet spot, spurring a deep moan at every peak of his strokes. 

“What else did Ava want?” Frédérique asks.

“She, uh, wanted me to choke her,” Bryce answers, and Frédérique guides one of his hands to her throat. He squeezes around her, and she makes adjustments.

“The sides, not the front,” Frédérique explains, eyes rolling back as Bryce continues fucking her. “Tighter…”

Bryce worries he’s hurting her, but the smile Frédérique flashes is eye-opening. He pounds harder for it, and her lips part, pushing out a satisfied moan. Feeling himself twitch inside of Frédérique, he speaks through the strain in his voice. “She called herself a slut.” 

“Did you like when she did?” Frédérique asks.

“A little, yeah.” 

“Let her own it, then.” Frédérique pulls Bryce down for a kiss. “You don’t have to make love every time you have sex. You can be rough.”

He squeezes tighter on the sides of her neck while his hips drive deep with more power behind them. “Like this?” 

“Yes…like that…” Frédérique coos, her back arching off the bed. She leans up towards him, nibbling on Bryce’s collarbone so she doesn't lose it completely. He feels good, and the way he slams against her sweet spot makes her unravelling a matter of time. “Bryce…”

“I’m close,” Bryce tells her.

Frédérique shakes her head, holding the back of his head. “Not until I finish.”

Bryce grits his teeth, powering through, doing anything he can to hold down. Her pussy feels so good, tightening around him, and the sight of her writhing beneath him isn’t helping one bit. She rips his hand off her throat, and her fingers weave in between his, gripping his hand tightly as her hips buck into his, grinding to milk him of every bit of ecstasy she can. 

She pushes him out, and Frédérique curls up, rolling to her side. A hand covers a twisted expression as she trembles, squeezing a hand between her clenched thighs to pull one more desperate climax. 

He watches in awe, stroking himself. He’s ready to cover and splatter her with his cum, but when her body calms, Frédérique tells him to get on his back. She straddles him, feet planted firmly on either side of his body, and lowers herself onto him. The view of her pussy swallowing his cock up makes him twitch inside her, and this angle is different. He feels her so tightly around him, and when she raises and drops her hips, he almost can’t contain himself. 

Moaning for her, he can’t help but notice the way her legs quake. He sits up, wrapping his arms around her, supporting her ass with his hands to guide her strokes. Soft coos against his ear are music to his ears. 

“Your French has gotten better, but so has that dick,” Frédérique starts, exertion apparent in her shallow breaths. She shifts her legs to wrap around Bryce instead. “Whether or not you stay the extra month, I think I’m going to miss this.” 

Bryce rocks into her, letting her move back and forth. Goosebumps find his skin when her hands trace it, wrapping around his body, holding him gently. It’s a tender touch. “Are you talking about my dick or me?”

Frédérique’s hand caresses the back of Bryce’s neck. She meets his eyes before staring down at his lips. With a laugh, she says before pressing in for a deep kiss, “Am I allowed to say both?”

He closes his eyes, melting into the feel of her plump lips against his. Bryce’s arms encircle Frédérique, meeting her soft hold, and he scoots forward and back until he finds the rhythm that quickens Frédérique’s breaths. The heat at the base of his cock spreads, and when he closes his eyes, there’s a similar sensation deep in his chest.

Bryce pictures Ava riding him. Her brown hair, framing her face perfectly, bouncing to every movement. Her gentle hold. The way her nails trace against his skin. 

The illusion shatters when he opens his eyes to see Frédérique. Her eyes, half-lidded, look up towards him. She whimpers for him, cooing, “I love that cock.” 

His arms tighten around her, and he holds her in place. Frédérique is right. He doesn’t have to make love every time. He can be rough. Bryce thrusts up into her, and Frédérique’s eyes roll back, and her lips part when a groan leaves her lips. Through grunts, he tells Frédérique, “I’m gonna come.”

Her legs tighten around him. “Deep inside. Fuck it deep inside me.” 

Bryce’s hands rest on Frédérique’s shoulders, and he pulls her down into the hilt of his cock, coating the depths of his walls with hot ropes of seed. Needily, he presses his mouth against her, and she bites his lip, tugging at it until their tongues meet. 

The silence that settles between them is heavy. Nothing but panting as the two catch their breaths. Frédérique pushes off of him, and her shaky legs leave her in danger of collapsing, but she wills herself to the ground, walking over to her dresser for a fresh pair of panties. She motions to the one on the ground and giggles, “You can borrow that one, if you want.” 

After throwing on a shirt, Frédérique’s face snaps to Bryce’s phone when it rings: a video chat request from Ava. Bryce looks at her with widened eyes, and Frédérique snatches the phone, keeping it close to her face, and answering it while walking out of her room. 

Ava raises a brow, giggling. “Oh, hey, Frédérique. That humidity does a number on your hair, huh? It’s all over the place. But I’m not one to talk.”

Frédérique preens her hair, smoothing some loose strands, answering with a nervous smile, “Hi, Ava.”

“Why do you have Bryce’s phone?” Ava asks, and there’s a split-second where her smile fades, but it returns when Bryce grabs the phone from Frédérique’s hand.

“Hey! Sorry, was chasing the dog downstairs,” Bryce lies.

“Dogsitting already? I thought that was next weekend.” Ava perks up. “Let me see him! I wanna see the puppy.” 

“He’s much bigger than a puppy,” Frédérique assures. She aims the camera at herself. “Speaking of dog, when will you be taking your pet back to the States?” 

“It’s up to Bryce,” Ava jokes, shooting him a look. “Why, you had enough of him?”

Frédérique shakes her head. “No, but I’m sure he misses you.” 

Synopsis: Paris is supposed to be the city of love, but when Bryce moves there for work, he can’t tell if the city loves him back. It’s mishap after mishap. His relationship with Ava is in danger when Bryce meets his new roommate.

Written for image 14 for the June contest! Part of the Ava series, but they aren’t required reading unless you want to know what’s going on behind the scenes for her: Part 1 | Part 2

~

French is the language of love, but sometimes Bryce wonders if that’s only because it’s one of the romance languages. 

When he was told about the opportunity from his job to work and live in Paris for two months, he was ecstatic. It sounded awesome. Even his girlfriend, Ava, was happy for him, even if she couldn’t come due to her financial circumstances.

It was a cool idea on paper, but in practice, the entire arrangement had some quirks. Bryce didn’t know a lick of French. And communicating with the locals proved quite hard. Just navigating through the airport was tricky. He was so prepared to ride the train since it was the most affordable option, but he must’ve purchased the wrong ticket. The station he ended up in was a bit more out of the way than he anticipated, and to be safe, he took a rideshare to the office.

He was fully prepared for his first day at the Paris branch, only to find the doors were locked. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peers through the glass; the lights are off. Not a soul inside. He opens his inbox for the email about orientation, skimming it quickly. Reading to himself, he sees the last line:

«À mardi!»

“Yeah, that’s today,” Bryce mutters. Though, he has second thoughts. He types mardi into a translator. He puts his palm to his forehead and laughs, shaking his head. If it’s about to be 9:00am, here it would be 1:00am back home. He has to tell someone about this misunderstanding.

He calls Ava first, and it rings until he goes to voicemail. He tries again, and it’s the same result the second time. And the third. Pursing his lip, he calls Cal next. The phone rings a few times before his roommate answers.

“Yo!” Cal greets. “How’s France? Snag a baguette yet?”

“You’re not gonna believe this. The office is closed on Mondays. I read the email wrong, and thought Mardi meant Monday because they both start with M!”

“Bro. What does Mardi Gras mean?”

“Oh shit, you’re right. Fat Tuesday,” Bryce says. “If I knew that, it would’ve been nice to spend an extra day lazing around with Ava. How’s she doing, by the way? She still asleep?”

“I forgot you called when you got off the plane. Yeah,” Cal says with the slightest bit of mirth in his voice. “She’s in your guys’ room right now. Ava hasn’t really left the bed all day.”

“I knew she would take it hard, this distance,” Bryce says, clenching his jaw. He squats against the wall, leaning against his luggage. “I’m starting to think coming here was a mistake.”

“No, bro. Think of how excited Ava was for you. This will be really good for your job, plus you get to travel! She misses you plenty, but don’t worry. Dan and I will keep her occupied for you and find ways to distract her.”

“I appreciate it. Just so you know, I probably won’t be able to make a payment on what I owe you and Dan until a few weeks from now, when I get paid. I hope that’s okay.” Bryce grimaces. Money has been tight, and with Ava out of work, he’s basically paying twice the rent, for his place here in Paris, and his room with Dan and Cal. They agreed to float him for the two months, but he’d have to start paying in installments, at the very least. 

Cal sighs. “I know you and I had some choice words for each other, and I just want to apologize if I made it seem Ava is a burden. It was just a misunderstanding. She’s great, and Dan and I really don’t mind having her around. Don’t worry about paying us back.” 

“Cal, I can’t do that—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Cal insists. “What matters is that she’s got a place to stay. She’s safe here with us, okay?”

“Just let me know if she’s making too much trouble,” Bryce says with a chuckle. 

“We’ll take good care of her, okay, bro? I’m gonna let you go, though. I should probably get some sleep.”

“Long day?”

“Definitely. My body’s so sore.” Cal laughs, yawning as he stretches. “Why don’t you go check out the new digs?”

Great idea. Since Bryce he doesn’t have work, he has plenty of time to kill. He puts the address to his apartment. He’s glad Google Maps isn’t English. He can’t read what any of the street signs say it takes him a bit to get there, but he’s in no hurry.

When he gets to the apartment, it has a tiny, old-fashioned elevator with a grate, and from the way it rattles on the way up, Bryce prays he doesn’t get stuck on his way to the top floor. The hallway smells like cigarette smoke, and his room is all the way at the end.

He knocks once, and then a second time a little later. When no one comes to the door, he double-checks his email to confirm the room number. This is the right building, isn’t it? He wishes the listing had more pictures, but they all look out-of-date anyway.

The door finally opens, and a woman opens it wearing nothing but a loose shirt. She looks at him, confusedly, and says, «Bonjour, vous êtes du service de maintenance?»

Bryce squints his eyes, types something into a translator, and does his best not to butcher the pronunciation: “Bon jore. Gem apple–”

The woman laughs, clutching at her sides, and she waves him off. She has an accent. “It’s okay. I think my English would be better than your French. Are you from maintenance?”

“No,” Bryce corrects nervously, motioning to his luggage. “I’m actually here about the room. I’ve been emailing Frédérique back and forth. Is he home?”

The woman grins, offering her hands. “Actually, I’m Frédérique. Nice to meet you. Bryce, right?”

She pronounces his name as if it rhymes with “Greece,” and it’s charming from how sweet it sounds from her lips. He doesn’t have the heart to correct her. He takes her hand hesitantly, shaking it politely. 

“Gosh, it’s just one thing after another,” Bryce remarks to himself. “Sorry for the confusion. I didn’t think that you were a woman when I saw your name.”

She smiles, amused, raising a brow and crossing her arms. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, of course, not,” Bryce says, waving his hands in front of him. “I just don’t know how pleased my girlfriend would be if I were living with the woman alone.”

“Does she not trust you?” Frédérique asks, leaning against the wall, her head tilting playfully. “I had no idea Americans were so close-minded.”

“She trusts me!” Bryce assures, but he comes off as defensive from how fast he responds. “I just mean that it’s not what I told her.”

When Bryce thinks about it, Ava is in a similar situation. She’s living with two guys who aren’t her boyfriend, but it’s different. Cal and Dan are his friends. They would never do that to him, and she wouldn’t cheat on him, so she has no reason to believe the opposite would be true.

“It’s not like you lied,” she says with a shrug. “All you have to do is explain it was a misunderstanding, no?”

“You’re right.” Bryce looks down at his luggage and walks through the door. “Any chance I could put my stuff in my room?”

Frédérique turns around, and her hand beckons him to follow her, so he does. She fixes the loose collar of her oversized tee when it slides over her shoulder, and as the fabric shifts, Bryce can’t help but notice that she’s not wearing any pants. He blushes, clearing his throat, but his eyes follow down her legs. They’re slender. Quite nice to look at, but he knows he shouldn’t.

“Any chance you can you could put on some shorts?” Bryce asks nervously, tugging at his collar, feeling heat build across his cheeks. 

“I was here first, so I get to make the rules,” Frédérique says sharply, looking over her shoulder with a smirk. “I’ll wear what I want, and if you have a problem with it, just look away.”

Bryce supposes she’s right, but he doesn’t know what to make of that smile. It reads as flirting with a hint of malice. He tries to shake the thought. There’s no way. He’s probably misunderstanding.

He follows behind her a few paces as she walks up the stairs. He wants to keep his gaze down, but when she makes casual conversation, he looks up towards her, getting a flash of black panties with white polkadots. When she turns her attention forward, Bryce steals another glance,  and his eyes linger until he’s standing next to her on top of the stairs.

Frédérique shows him his room, and he thanks her. She offers a polite smile, and when she turns to walk away, she tugs at the front of her shirt, flashing those black panties again. 

Surely, he’s imagining things, right?

~

In the weeks leading up to the move, Bryce had been doing a crash course on French, trying to soak in what he could to adjust to his new job. He insists that Frédérique speaks to him mostly in French. The best way to learn is to dive into the deep end, so he hopes he can pick it up quickly.

The language barrier does make for some funny interactions.

After breakfast one day, Frédérique says something, and Bryce catches almost none of it. She’s a very fast speaker, and the only word he caught was douche.

“Frédérique.” He calls her attention, and she stops in her tracks after heading towards the stairs. Bryce asks in English, “Is something wrong? Did I offend you?”

She tilts her head, not sure what he means.

“Didn’t you just call me a douche right now?”

She sucks in her lips, trying not to laugh, and she shakes her head. “Bryce, doucher means to shower.”

He nods to himself, peeking over when she walks up the stairs. Bryce tells himself he won’t look at her underwear, but he does anyway. Today it’s stripes: white and baby blue. Cute.

Bryce follows a little later to get ready for work. Geez, do they do coffee differently here? It goes right through him, and he feels the need to pee. He knocks on the bathroom door, and he hopes she can hear him through the running water. “Is it okay if I come inside?”

“Be my guest,” she answers. 

Bryce walks in, and the room is humid. The glass door of the shower is fogged, but Frédérique’s form is unmistakable. Every curve makes Bryce forget he had breakfast. He wonders what she looks like behind the haze of the steam. 

She's focused on her shower, leaning against the wall, soaping her breasts and using the handheld showerhead to rinse herself with warm water. When her head perks up to look at him, Bryce quits staring, snapping his head in another direction.

He stands over the toilet with his back to Frédérique. He's self-conscious, knowing she could be looking, and once he relaxes (by pretending she's not even there), he sighs in relief as his stream finally flows. 

The sound of Frédérique's laughter cuts the sound, and she apologizes. “I thought you were asking if you could join me. I guess I was wrong. That’s all you came here for?”

“Why would I get in the shower with you?” Bryce asks. He gives his dick a quick shake before pulling his pants up. “You already know I have a girlfriend.”

“I’m not sure what you had in mind,” Frédérique starts, “but I was talking about saving water.”

Heat flushes his face. She’s toying with him. Bryce knows it from the way she giggles and the mirth in her voice. Still, he can’t help it feel like she wouldn’t object if he really did try to hop in with her. And maybe he’s overthinking it, but what if her saying she was going to shower was an invitation rather than just informing him?

Absolutely no way. This is all a misunderstanding.

He goes over to wash his hands and catches a glimpse of her in the mirror before snapping his eyes back down to his hands.

“Looking is fine, is it not, Bryce?” Frédérique says, and he can tell that she’s grinning.

“It’s not,” he keeps telling himself as he dries his hands.

“It’s not like you’re touching me, and I’m not touching you,” Frédérique shoots back casually. “You stumbled into the bathroom not knowing I was showering. A misunderstanding.”

“Right,” Bryce says, but he knows better. He should walk towards the door, but instead, he leans against the bathroom counter. Just this one time, he’ll allow himself to take the sight in. Just this one time, he’ll let his eyes wander. 

He loves Ava.

Frédérique is clearly looking back at Bryce, and she rubs the glass at her waist level until it’s clear. His throat tightens as he gets a glimpse of her bush: she keeps up with grooming, and it’s very nice. She moves slowly, bringing the showerhead down to spray between her legs. Moans follow, and Bryce watches, her body undulating to the pace of whatever pleasure he imagines is coursing through her. Her cries climb higher, echoing against the shower walls. Ceramic tile does nothing to dampen her sounds.

God, he misses Ava. His pants feel tight around his crotch, and he has the biggest urge to pull his pants down and whip his dick out. This is no different than porn. He’s just watching. Nothing’s happening between the two. He’s not an active participant at all.

Fuck, this isn’t right. He mutters an apology before rushing out the door, and the feral sounds of her climax fade away as he walks to his room.

He takes a seat on the bed, and he removes his pants, pushing them down furiously and wrapping his hands around his dick. The sight of Frédérique in the shower and her sounds drive him wild, but even as erotic as memories are, he’s not sure they’re enough to drive him home.

He calls Ava, squeezing his phone between his shoulder and ear. It rings a few times, and she answers.

“Hey baby, are you on the way to work?” Ava asks. 

He pauses, pushing out grunts, and he forces a response out, making no effort to hide his strain. “Not yet…I just wanted to hear your voice…”

“You sound a little out of breath,” Ava teases, “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“Maybe,” Bryce answers coyly. 

“What got you so hard?” she says, voice dropping low. There’s a tiny giggle that follows, and Bryce imagines her getting settled in his bed back at the apartment back home.

“You did…just thinking of you…” Bryce lies. He can’t tell her the truth. Obviously. But there’s a semblance of truth in the claim; he does think of her whenever he’s jerking off. This is just a singular exception.

His eyes widen when Frédérique walks into view, standing in his doorway. Her hair is still a bit damp, and her towel loosely covers her front. He stares at stray droplets dripping down her chest, and the very edges of her areola can be seen above the brim of the towel. The grip on his dick tightens, and he strokes faster, pausing when she walks closer and sits on the bed.

He can hear Ava getting riled up on her side of the line. Her moans are so soft against his ear, coming from the phone, and he so desperately wishes he could hear them in person. He locks eyes with Frédérique and says, “Your moans are perfect. I’m stroking myself, thinking of them.”

“I miss you so much, Bryce. I can’t wait for you to come back home. My fingers aren’t enough,” Ava says.

Bryce's hand doesn’t stop. He mutes his phone briefly to hopefully clear the air. With panic in his voice, he asks Frédérique, “What are you doing here?”

“I originally came to apologize, thinking I made you uncomfortable in the bathroom, but it seems I misunderstood,” Frédérique answers, grinning at me as she lets the towel fall to the ground. She spreads her legs, and I get a very clear view of her bush and the glistening lips it covers. A finger playfully points to my raging hardness, and she laughs. “Looks like you liked my little show a LOT.”

“Because I’m having phone sex with my girlfriend, who I love,” Bryce says, almost to convince himself. 

Frédérique leans back, supporting herself with a hand behind her back, resting on Bryce’s bed. “Then tell me to leave.” 

Bryce narrows his eyes, and he groans as his hand glides over his length. “Ohhhh, Ava…”

“I love when you’re vocal,” Ava nearly growls, giggling through her bated breaths. “I wanna hear you playing with yourself.” 

Frédérique locks eyes with Bryce, and her thigh traces the inside of her thigh. She leans over to his free ear, and her whispers tickle his ear, forcing a moan through his lips. “You watch. And I watch. No touching? No cheating. Easy.”

She returns to her spot, and her fingers rub her slit. Frédérique flashes a smile that drips with mischief. When her fingertips circle her clit, she covers her mouth to keep her voice down. Hurried breaths pick up as she speeds up to match Bryce’s pace. Biting back what sultry moans would slip out, she jerks back, flat against the bed as her body writhes. Looking up, she stares at the way Bryce jerks himself, and her climax curls her toes. 

Fuck, she’s so hot. 

“Baby,” Ava coos. “When I get needy, I start sucking my dildos pretending it’s you…is that naughty?”

“It is. Let me hear you suck it,” Bryce says into the phone. He bites his lip, meeting Frédérique’s gaze. “I wish I could feel your mouth.” 

Bryce stares in disbelief when Frédérique kneels in front of him, parting her lips and opening wide. He’s frozen in place, pulsing in his hand, and he forces himself to shake his head. They can’t do this.

He can hear wet noises from Ava’s side of the line. Her plump lips sucking on a dildo. Slobber everywhere. So messy. How could he be so jealous of silicone? His hand doesn’t compare to the warmth of a mouth. 

The corners of Frédérique’s mouth curl up, and she presents her tongue. Bryce grimaces, hand speeding up. He throbs, but Frédérique’s tongue tempts him. He knows he can’t, thinking of her words earlier: No touching? No cheating. This isn’t cheating. Bryce is just masturbating. He carelessly left the door open, and Frédérique walked in on him. 

Bryce stands up, and Frédérique’s pupils dilate as her eyes follow up, staring up at his cock. 

“Bryce, baby…come for me. I want you to fill my mouth,” Ava begs with her mouth full. She moans around her toy.

Frédérique leans closer to pop Bryce into her mouth, but he backs away. No. He keeps jerking, closing his eyes to imagine Ava. He’s so close. Focusing on her moans eases him closer, and he’s ready to blow. 

But his eyes open. 

Bryce stares at Frédérique, letting his lust consume him. He wants to cover her face and give her a reason to wash up again. His groans are supposed to be for Ava, but in truth, Bryce wants Frédérique to know just how badly he wants her. He stumbles forward, and the bottom of his shaft grazes her tongue. “Fuck, I’m coming!”

Her eyes widen when she smiles, and Bryce watches as spurt after spurt coat Frédérique’s tongue and shoot to the back of her throat while she slowly laps at the ridge of his tip. She shuts her lips, licking them clean, and gulps it all down before grabbing her towel and getting to her feet. 

She leans closer to Bryce, whispering with a grin, “You’re not as close-minded as I thought.” 

Frédérique walks to the doorway and turns back briefly, waving playfully. “Have a good day at work, Bryce.” 

“Did I just hear a woman’s voice?” Ava asks, still short of breath.

“That was just my roommate. She was passing through the hall,” Bryce explains.

“Oh, tell Frédérique I said hi!” Ava says excitedly. “Are you still gonna talk to me on your way to work?”

“Of course,” Bryce answers. His girlfriend’s voice is so chipper, and he’s infinitely glad she doesn’t know what happened on his side of the line.

After a deep breath, he tries to shrug off the guilt. It was an accident. He tripped, and Frédérique was in the way. It won’t happen again. 

~

“Fuck,” Bryce mutters to himself. Today was bad. Deadlines are getting closer for work, and he has a whole lot of catch-up to play tomorrow. His manager chewed him out, and a project had to be scrapped completely and reworked from the ground up. To make matters worse, it’s pouring outside, and he brought an umbrella. He could take the Metro, but he’ll still get drenched on the way there. 

Bryce walks outside, and immediately, his hair is soaked. It’s the final nail in the coffin, and he’s ready to break down. He turns in the direction of the station and stands dumbfounded to see Frédérique standing against the wall with an umbrella. Despite the weather, she’s wearing a short, green dress with a floral pattern, with a cardigan over it. Fighting a sniffle, he asks, “What are you—”

“I told you about the weather,” Frédérique says coolly. “But you didn’t believe me.” 

He rolls his eyes, wiping them dry, but it’s moot as he stands in the rain. Frédérique walks closer, putting the umbrella over his head, and his head hangs down. Laughing, he says, “No,  you didn’t. You said something was going to make me cry today. Guess you were right.”

Frédérique chuckles, offering what smile she can, and she lifts a finger to catch a tear from dripping down Bryce’s cheek. “Bryce, your French has come a long way, but I said it was going to rain today.”

They walk together, slowly, so as not to throw the other’s pace off. It’s quiet, save for the sound of heavy rainfall splashing against the street and sidewalk. Frédérique is first to make conversation. “Long day at work?”

“Yeah,” Bryce responds, lips pursing.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“Just a lot happened,” Bryce starts. “Work is busier than usual, picking up for the season, and I’m just falling behind on everything. The language barrier is just such a nuisance sometimes, and I hate that I’m still struggling with it.

“It’s one of those days when I really regret coming to Paris. I should’ve stayed back home.” Bryce wipes away hot tears that cut through his shut lids, and he stops in place. A few choked breaths put a shake to his shoulder, and he feels Frédérique’s hand on his back. “I miss my girlfriend. I hate this distance.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” Frédérique offers, “You can come to me if you’re ever…pent-up–”

“Frédérique!” Bryce exclaims, before a laugh escapes. “You’re just teasing me, aren’t you?”

She shrugs. “I’d rather you be upset at me than upset at yourself. Give yourself more credit. I’m sure things will get better. Your projects at work will fall into place, and you’ll see your Ava soon enough.” 

The rain slows to a light drizzle, and Bryce winces when a ray of sun shines through a crack in the clouds. He shields his eye, looking up at the sun. Frédérique closes the umbrella and gives it a shake. “Just as it doesn’t rain forever, your hardships will pass.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Bryce says. “I needed that.” 

“Thanks for letting me see that side of you. We only talk about the apartment, it seems, when we’re home,” Frédérique shoots back. She looks up towards Bryce. “J'aimerais te connaître. I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’d like that, too.” Bryce smiles, but surprise widens his eyes when Frédérique pulls him by the hand into an alley. Her flip-flops slap against damp concrete, and when they’re far enough from view, she presses him into the wall. “What are you—I thought you said you wanted to get to know me.”

Frédérique looks up at Bryce, laughing. “It’s a figure of speech. I’d like to know you—how you say—biblically.” 

Bryce stares with a dropped jaw. He looks down her low-cut shirt, stealing a glance at those perfect breasts. “Frédérique…that thing that happened before…in my room. That was a—”

“A misunderstanding?” Frédérique asks, and amusement brings a knowing smile to her face. “You can tell me all you want that it was wrong, and that we shouldn’t, but I know you wanted it too. I know you want more. You never close the door when you’re masturbating. You want me to see you. I bet you want me to join again, like last time. ”

Her hand rubs over Bryce’s crotch, and he groans in response, not denying anything. 

“I have Ava,” Bryce says, doing nothing to escape her touch. Even worse, he grinds his hips into Frédérique’s palm. 

“Then tell me to stop,” Frédérique says, knowing very well Bryce won’t. She masterfully undoes his pants and drops them to his ankles. Kneeling down, she helps Bryce step out of his pants, and licks her lips, staring at his member. He’s so hard. Already so ready to go. 

She wraps her mouth around him, and bobs her head. His moans are immediate, and Bryce’s fingers find their way into Frédérique’s black bob. He brushes her bangs aside, and he nearly crumbles when she locks eyes with him. Frédérique takes him out of her mouth and licks along the side of his shaft, grinning. “Better than you imagined, no?”

“Fuck, yes,” Bryce says, thrusting into her mouth. Her lips wrap around him so tightly, travelling up his shaft. From tip to hilt, repeatedly, sending him into a frenzy. She’s at least as good as Ava at this. 

Frédérique pushes him back, and he lands on a soggy cardboard box, thankful it doesn’t collapse. Bryce braces himself against the wall, a cold, metal door, dripping, and he realizes just where they are. An alleyway, surrounded by a building’s trash.

In a way, it’s fitting. What a perfect place for him to give in to his pent-up desires. He accepts what he is: a filthy, self-righteous cheater. Despite having a loving girlfriend back home, he’s wanted Frédérique since the day he moved in, and he’s throbbing at the idea of having her. 

He pulls her towards him, gripping her ass through her dress, and his fingers play with the hem.

“You must be wondering what panties I’m wearing today,” Frédérique teases. “You’re always looking at them when I walk up the stairs.”

When Bryce tries to stammer a retort, Frédérique leans down, telling him. “Go ahead and take a look.”

Bryce peels the front of her dress up, and a smile finds his face when he takes in the sight of Frédérique’s bush, as perfect as he remembers. “Did you plan all this?”

Frédérique only smiles. “It was going to happen today, if at all. You’d look up my dress when I walked upstairs, and maybe you’d finally get the hint that I wanted it. But I’m happy to know you can’t wait either.” 

Bryce grabs her by the waist and turns Frédérique around, easing her down onto his cock, aiming it towards her entrance. She hushes him, peeking towards the end of the alley. 

“I think I hear something,” Frédérique says, pressing Bryce back and resting her feet on his thighs, keeping herself hovered above him. 

“Then we’ll be quick,” Bryce insists, and when he pulls her down, Frédérique has to silence her gasp with a hand clamped over her mouth. He lowers her all the way to his base. “Holy shit, you feel fucking amazing.”

“I’ve wanted to give you a try ever since I saw your cock,” Frédérique admits, bouncing along his length, stifling her moans as her lower lips grip along him. “Better than I thought. Maybe what they say about America is right. Everything is bigger there.”

“That’s just about Texas,” Bryce says, grinning, and his lips find Frédérique’s neck. He nibbles, sucking, and a hand wraps around her to play with her clit while the other guides her up and down his hardness. 

Frédérique moans from his mouth on her neck, reaching back to hold the back of Bryce’s head by the hair. She stares into his eyes, and the intense look he gives her has her tightening around him. His lips part, and they hold her attention. 

Bryce stays still, except for bucking up into her to meet Frédérique’s bounces halfway. As she inches closer, likely for a kiss, he should pull away. Sex is sex. But kissing would feel too intimate. He thinks of Ava.

Fuck it. 

He wraps an arm around Frédérique’s stomach, and closes what little gap remained between their lips. It’s a deep kiss, and he shudders against her. His fingers speed up over her clit, and her moans muffle against his mouth. 

Her rhythm is thrown off, and he helps her by pulling her up and down his cock, thrusting up into her. He grunts against her, biting her lip, and his free hand reaches up to cup a breast, squeezing it firmly. 

“I’m coming, Bryce,” Frédérique announces, and she nearly collapses forward, but he holds her up, silencing her cries with another kiss. Her body trembles as the last few waves course through her core, and a deep breath stretches her mouth wide in a smile. “Fuck…”

Bryce wraps his arms tightly around her, pushing deep. He grunts again, straining to hold back. “Is it okay if I come inside?” 

“Please do,” Frédérique begs. “I want it deep. Don’t waste a single drop. I want it until I’m overflowing with your cum.” 

She grabs her knees and bounces until she clenches around him and feels him pulse between her walls. It feels like a lot, and when they slow to a stop, they stay put, holding each other. A few more kisses are shared before they get to their feet, and Bryce puts his pants back on.

Frédérique grabs the umbrella and the two head back for the street. 

“You know, Ava and I have never had sex without a condom,” Bryce admits. Guilt weighs heavily on his shoulders again. 

“And you even filled me up,” Frédérique says, feeling him drip down her leg. She smirks, bumpin him playfully with her shoulder. “I wonder what other firsts I can steal from her.” 

“You’re bad,” Bryce jokes, grinning.

“And you’re no better,” Frédérique says. She’s right. It just took a while for Bryce to admit it. 

They walk in silence the rest of the way home, and Frédérique stays at his side until Bryce walks into his room. The threshold separates them, and Frédérique waits in the hall, leaning against the wall. Bryce doesn’t meet her eyes, calling Ava, and she answers on the first ring.

“You called later than usual,” Ava says. There’s a hint of sadness in her voice, and it only makes Bryce feel worse. “Long day at work?”

“Yeah,” Bryce says, glancing towards Frédérique. “There was something I just really had to do, and it couldn’t wait.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“Hmm,” Ava starts, giggling flirtily. “Maybe we can do something to get your mind off that?” 

Bryce laughs, looking up when Frédérique closes the distance between them. “Sure, sounds good.”

“Are you alone?” Ava asks, and the rustle of the phone sounds like she’s taking her clothes off.

He reaches for Frédérique’s hand, letting one of his fingers hook hers. Taking a step back, she follows him, breaking past the threshold of the door, and Bryce walks them to the bed. “Y-yeah, I’m alone.” 

Synopsis: When the person you are doesn’t match the person others want you to be, it gets hard to ignore that disconnect. Rae knows it won’t always be easy, but hopes it won’t always be hard, either. 

Written for image 18 for the June contest!

~

I like my name enough. I was named after my father, Raymundo, who was named after his father (though I like to go by Ray). It’s a tradition, a means to pass down a legacy. It’s not just the name; I was raised with the qualities that made my grandfather (and father) great: kindness, patience, and love. 

My family isn’t the type to yell or scream. They address conflict calmly, diffusing disagreements before a feud can fester. One night, I stroll into the house, creeping in through the window, and my father is staring at me, sitting in the dark, likely disappointed. The lights turn on, and he sits me down to ask where I was.

“I...went to see a girl,” I admit, hanging my head in shame, but when I look up, I’m surprised to see my dad grinning ear to ear.

“That-a boy,” he says proudly. “A chip off the old block. You’re a Raymundo, through and through.  

“You’re not mad?”

“Just don’t make it a habit.” 

~ 

In high school, I kissed a boy for the first time. It was on the doorstep to my house, after we walked home from school, hand in hand. My stomach fluttered as our joined hands swung between us, and that kiss was something short of magic. He waved goodbye, and before I could unlock the front door, it opened, with my dad waiting inside. 

“Who’s that?” my dad asks. 

“A boy from school,” I tell him, shrinking in place after I hear the door shut behind him. I’m frozen in place. My legs won’t walk me to the couch to sit down. Fear prevents me from meeting my dad’s eyes. “I…I like him.”

“So you’re gay?” 

My eyes widen, but I don’t have it in me to shake my head. “No…I like girls too.”

My father grumbles about culture, then turns around, not facing me as he speaks. “I guess it’s fine. Your generation likes to experiment. But you can’t pass a name down if you marry a man.” 

I stand in place, watching as my dad walks up the stairs. His footsteps still creak the floorboards upstairs, and my parents’ bedroom door slams shut. 

My family isn’t the type to yell or scream, but my dad is uncharacteristically silent in the months that follow. 

~

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say, breaking down into tears. I’d rehearsed what I wanted to say countless times, but the words choke back when I feel my throat close from the tightness in my chest. When the sobbing starts, it’s nearly impossible to breathe. “I can’t be the man you want me to be. I can’t continue the family name–” 

“Stop it!” my father says sternly, and it’s the loudest I’ve heard his voice. After his voice calms, he looks away. “Is this about you being bi?” 

I wish it were that easy. “I’ve…never felt like I fit the mold of what it means to be a man.”

“Your grandfather always called you a hippie because you prefer your hair long,” my dad jokes. 

“It’s not just that, Dad. I…love you, and even though Grandpa was a bit close-minded, I love him too, but I don’t think I can carry the name Raymundo,” I try to explain. My fists clench. “I’m…trans. I don’t want to be referred to as a man anymore.”

My dad’s face pales. He isn’t the type to yell or scream, but the way his face drops breaks my heart, and the tears cut sharply through my eyelids again. He reaches for me, before quickly recoiling his hand back. We stand, facing each other, until he walks up to me. 

Outstretched arms wrap around me, and I tense when I feel my dad embrace me. It’s light at first, but it tightens, like my favorite bear hugs he used to give me when I was younger. I return the hold, sniffling into his shirt. I brace myself to be told to pack my things and leave, but my dad only has a single word for me: “Okay.”

I break the hug, looking at him in disbelief. My lips quiver, and the dam threatens to break all over again. 

“When you came out to me as bi, I slowly learned how the way I reacted was wrong. I have no idea if you ever forgave me for that-–and it’s okay if you didn’t—but I never forgave myself, and I’m sorry.” he pauses, resting his hands on my shoulder, and he looks into my eyes. Like, really looks. As if he’s seeing me for the first time, his eyes mist, and he wipes them dry with the back of a hand. A smile forms, and he takes my hand, squeezing it. “I have a daughter!” 

He sits me down, asking question after question. Some are less sensitive than others, but he apologizes every time my face twists. It’s all new for him, and I recognize his efforts to understand. One last question puts an end to our talk for the night: “What would you like me to call you?”

“I’ve always thought Raymundo was too long, but I’ve already really liked Rae,” I tell him, and he laughs, pulling me in again for a long, warm hug. “I guess you don’t have to call me anything different, but just mind the spelling, if you can?”

“I think that’s lovely.” His arms linger around me, and I feel so reassured.

~

The years that follow are about what I expect. HRT. Having to buy bras now. The awkward stage of figuring out how to dress. Vocal training. Buying women’s sneakers without shame (the colorways are cuter anyway; my pink Jordan IVs have been my favorite shoes in rotation). 

Dating is…interesting. I try to be transparent, disclosing my gender as early as possible, when it’s appropriate. It’s a mix of reactions. Hateful messages (that get blocked). Semi-interested conversation that eventually tapers off (this was probably going to happen no matter what my gender is). Individuals who are a little too eager to meet up.

A friend of a friend of a friend sets me up on a blind date, and he’s more buff than the guys I’d generally swipe right for. Gymbros aren’t usually my speed, for the personality they tend to have, but Rhys is a sweetiepie. He grabs my hand tenderly from across the table, and I enjoy how dainty he makes me feel. 

He’s a bit awkward, mostly talking about his gym regimen, but that’s because I asked. Even if I don’t know half of what he’s talking about, I could listen to him for hours. 

And I do.

After dinner, he invites me to his place, and I accept. It works out better this way. If I need to leave, I can, should things go south (as they do sometimes). We sit on his couch, and before Rhys can pick something to watch, I take the remote from his hand and drop it on the couch before straddling his hips.

I lean in to kiss him, but he backs away, squirming, blocking my mouth with his hand. I purse my lips, and my shoulders slouch. “I’m sorry. I…might have misread the situation.”

“No, yeah, no. I definitely do want to kiss you. You’re like the most beautiful woman I’ve seen,” Rhys tells me, looking away to hide the flush on his cheeks. “It’s just I have something to tell you.”

“It’s okay if you’re not the biggest. I love dicks of all sizes,” I joke, hoping to ease the tension, and I earn a light laugh.

“I guess that’s its own issue. I…don’t have one of those. Or…not like one you’d expect?” Rhys trails off, offering a wiggly, crooked smile. “I’m trans. I know it’s a dealbreaker for some, so I should tell you now before we get too far.”

“That it?” I ask. When he lets me lean in closer, his smile is reassured when I kiss his forehead and brush his hair back. “I am too, so definitely not a dealbreaker.”

“Good.” We share a smile when I feel his hands grip my waist. Rhys asks, “Now, where were we?”

“I think I was about to kiss you. Is that okay?” I ask. 

“I’d like to do way more than kiss you,” Rhys responds with a grin, and I yelp when he picks me up with ease, walking us to his bedroom.

My legs wrap around him, and that first kiss takes my breath away. He pins me gently against the wall, and I nearly knock down a painting, flailing my arms to catch it, but he pulls me away, letting it fall to the ground. He wants my focus, and he has it.

His lips are just as gentle as his touch, but when I bite them, he bites back with a grin. He grows more eager with every smooch, and I’m the first to breach into his mouth with my tongue. His moans warm my lips, sending goosebumps down the back of my neck.

Rhys lowers me onto the bed and reaches up my dress, slowly removing my stockings. His fingertips trace every muscle, and I can feel him admiring me. That bright glimmer in his eyes while he stares at me stirs something deep in my stomach.

I clench my legs when he lifts the front of my dress, and I hide my face in my hands. My words are muffled, but I tried to explain. “Just so you know, I didn’t do bottom surgery. Some friends recommended a good doctor, but it was a little pricey.”

“That’s fine,” Rhys tells me, waving it off like it’s nothing. He looks away, pursing his lips, weighing what to say next while tilting his head. “Do you usually prefer to top or–”

“I’ve done both,” I tell him abruptly. His body weight presses me into the bed, and his lips meet mine. I melt beneath him, basking in the warmth he spreads through me. My flaccid dick rubs against the fabric of his pants. “And I like both, but…I’d really like you to top me. Would that be okay?”

“I would love to,” Rhys says, grinning. The smile slowly fades away when thoughts race in his head. “About your…how do…um, sorry–”

“I don’t mind you touching my dick if that’s what you’re asking,” I say, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. “I’ve been into a lot of anal stimulation lately, but for anything else, I’ll let you know if I don’t care for it.”

“Perfect,” he says before curling his fingers on my panties to pull them off.

I blush at just how much pre-cum strings between the fabric and my tip, watching as he takes the place on the floor between my legs. My heels rest on the edge of the bed, and I spread my legs, anticipation building as I wait for Rhys’ next move. 

He pushes my knees back towards my body, licks his lips, and looks at my hole. He guides one of my hands behind my knees, and his voice is low when he asks, “Can you hold your legs up for me?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer playfully. Rhys has been rather nervous all night, but seeing him so confident grows the heat in my core. I grin when I feel a lubed-up finger circle my entrance, and a gasp escapes when he presses his finger inside. That thick digit does wonders. I feel so good already, and my free hand clutches at the sheet as he eases it deeper. 

The tiniest curl rolls my eyes back, and I have to stifle my cries as I squirm at his touch. It takes all of my concentration to hold my legs up as he asked before.

“I love those little moans of yours,” he says, and I blush, looking away, lest I implode. “You looked so pretty tonight.”

He stands, letting his fingers work my hole, and he leans down to kiss me. “Can I call you princess?’

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” I ask, but I’m happy to admit I’m flattered.

“You deserve to be treated like one,” Rhys says smoothly, and I shudder when his fingers smooth my hair against the back of my head. His hand guides me up to his mouth, and our lips meet sweetly until it deepens from the building heat. 

“I can be your princess, then,” I whisper when he pulls away. My lips crave more of him, but I can’t be too greedy. I tighten around him, blushing. I quiver when he removes my finger, and when he replaces it with two, tension stiffens my body, and my back arches off his bed. I exhale sharply, blowing a huff of hot air out as my breath picks up.

“Easy, princess, I know it’s a lot,” he shushes me, slowing his fingers to a stop. It gives me a chance to breathe, and a moan slips out when I feel his fingertips press against my spot. “But I bet you can take it, can’t you?”

I nod for him, lifting my hips to press them into his fingers. A smile stretches across my face when he kisses the inside of my thighs. The eye contact he gives me is intense, only augmenting every sensation. My dick twitches, and his eyes dart towards it. He smiles in response, moving closer, licking his lips.

“May I?” he asks.

I let my dick rest in my hand, offering it to him, and I’m surprised when only his tongue touches me. Most people’s immediate reaction is to suck it as they would a cis man, but I imagine Rhys is aware that that’s not everyone’s favorite. His tongue flicks on my tip, and it gives me such a pleasant buzz. Jolts course through my body each time his tongue passes over the sensitive skin, and I curse when his tongue traces along every ridge of the head.

I’m so used to stimulation along the shaft that this level of focus on the head is mind-numbing. My legs clench, trembling, while his fingers thrust in and out. They press against my sweet spot at the apex of his smooth, gentle strokes, and in time, I tell him to go faster.

With a throb, clear heat leaks onto his tongue, and Rhyx laps it up. “Mmm, you taste so good, princess.”

Every utterance of the pet name makes me want to hide my face. If he were the teasing type, I know he would make fun of me. My silly smile and deep blush to match. His mouth and tongue make me feel so good, but his words make me feel so…beautiful.

His lips lock around the head, and he sucks while his tongue flicks against it. The hollowing of his cheeks sends me into a frenzy. It’s so intense, but I don’t dare ask for mercy: not from his tongue, and certainly not from his fingers.

My hips buck into his face, and I greedily push farther into his mouth. I tell him what I want as coherently as I can. Moans break apart my guidance, and I’m having trouble thinking. “You…don’t have to go up and down. Just…let rest in your–fuck–mouth.”

“Anything, princess,” he tells me. His tongue massages the bottom of my shaft; I can feel it roll under me, and the suction increases when he kisses my base and locks his lips around it.

I don’t mind a more traditional blowjob, but right now, I love the feeling of his mouth. The warmth. The skill of his tongue. The way his breath tickles. When he presses gently on my taint, I nearly come on the spot, but a few hurried breaths, and whatever slivers of self-control I have left help me keep my composure, even if I twitch inside his mouth, probably dripping more pre-cum that he happily slurps up.

“I want you so bad. Please fuck me.” I pull his mouth off me and bring his face towards mine. Losing myself in the kiss is easy when I get a taste of myself on his tongue. I love that mouth of his, and while I’d love to enjoy it all night, I want to give him all of me.

I follow him to the dresser and drop to my knees clumsily, pulling his pants down, and kissing his stomach. I plead with my eyes, silently begging for permission.

There’s concern in Rhys’ eyebrows, and his pursed lips bear the traces of a grimace. “I don’t like my front hole stimulated. No insertion…except my ass, I guess?” 

Carefully, I trace my fingers on his engorged clit. I catch it twitch, and awe stretches a grin across my face. Kissing the neatly trimmed bed of hair that crowns his perfect clit, I look up at Rhys. “I could suck this if you’d like.”

“Please do,” he tells me through a bated breath. A gruff groan slips out when I wrap my lips around him, sucking as I travel over his length. Such a distinct hardness presses back against my plump lips. 

I could do this for hours, especially when he moans like that for me. My hands start off at his hip bones, but travel lower, resting on the front of his thighs. His build is so not what I’m used to, but the flex of his thighs under my palms excites me. Pausing for a breath, I let my tongue work his tip, lapping along it slowly, careful to avoid his front hole. It takes precision, but it pays off when I see his face twist. 

His ass beckons my attention, neglected for too long. I squeeze his cheeks hard, and I adore how firm they are. Spreading his cheeks, my fingers inch closer to his hole, circling the rim, pressing a fingertip against the tight rings. Parted lips, exhaling sharply, form into a grin. “Fuck, princess.” 

He moans when I let just a bit of my finger enter him, and he tries so desperately to keep his concentration. A harness sits on top of the dresser, and he pulls out a few options for me. “I have a few sizes.”

I compare the choices. The first is a skinnier one, a staple for those new to anal. But I’m no novice. The next one looks average; I’ve had quite a few guys around that size, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Still, curiosity draws me to the last one. I can count the number of times I’d taken something that big on one hand, and each time, I walked funny for the days that followed. 

I point to the larger one, and I put my hands on Rhys’ chiseled stomach. His core tightens to the touch of my fingertips over every muscle, and he shudders when I go back to sucking him. Fingertips against my scalp have me moaning against him, licking him wildly, and my hand on top of one of his guides him to pulling my hair. 

A sharp moan leaves my lips, and he holds me in place, pushing between my plump lips. I look up at Rhys, and he’s biting his lip before he helps me to my feet. He fiddles with the larger strap, working it through the O-ring of his harness, and he pauses when I use two fingers to stroke along his length. 

“You sure you want this one?” Rhys asks as he slides the harness up his legs. I help him with the buckles, ensuring it’s tight on his body, and walk him to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. “It hardly gets any use.”

I take it into my mouth, staring up at him. The way he smiles, he must love the sight. I wonder if he can tell that my mouth struggles to reach around him. My eyes trail to what’s left of the member; still quite a bit left.

Rhys’ hands take my hair again, and I nod excitedly. He guides my head further down; my eyes cross as my mouth takes more and more of him. I don’t quite reach the base, and tears well as I struggle to breathe. 

His thumb wipes a stray tear, and he licks it up. “You look so beautiful with your mouth full, princess. Are you ready for me?” 

I ease off of him, gasping for air, incoherently begging for him. My hands stroke along his length, covered in my spit, and I douse the strap in lube before lying down on my back. A hand rests on the back of each knee, holding my legs to me. I’m sure he can see my hole and the way it puckers in anticipation. 

The thick tip presses against my ring, and he’s gentle at first, easing in until I’m stretched wide by his toy. I grit my teeth, turning my head to lie against his sheets. Whimpering, my eyes shut, and shaky lips push out what words they can through my bated breaths. “Fuck…”

“You’re okay, princess,” Rhys tells me, snaking an arm under me. His strong hold on my body reassures me, and a kiss on my forehead calms me. “How about I stay right here? I won’t go deeper until you ask.”

I mumble a response, and he leans closer, putting his ear to my lips. His eyes and smile widen when he hears me, finally, “More…”

It’s not always easy, but with how tenderly he treats me, I take all of Rhys in no time. My body relaxes, and my arms fall like jelly onto the bed. I wipe sweat off my brow and push my hair back, feeling the glow across my face. I reach up towards Rhys and bring him down to me. 

When he kisses me, I feel so wanted. So loved. He thrusts, shallow at first, and my arms grip onto his built biceps. I shudder when he speeds up, and I’m in heaven as he takes me. He’s slamming against my sweet spot, and my dick is the hardest it’s been in a while. 

Rhys reaches between us, and his fingers touch and twist around my tip. Wow. Five points of contact, all moving independently, and my head grows lighter and lighter. He grunts, and his low voice brings the simmer in my stomach up to a rolling boil. 

He drives deeper, and a few more vigorous thrusts push me over the edge, spraying hot ropes between us. I feel his hand weave into mine, and my fingers close around him as I push out the final dribble of cum. 

I stare at the mess on my chest, and Rhys smiles shyly, easing his large appendage out. He disappears briefly, returning with a warm, damp rag, and helps clean me up. After pulling him into the bed with me, I scoot up, draping his arm around me. 

Those muscles aren’t just good for grabbing; they’re perfect around me.

~

Rhys is not a morning person, it seems. I wake him up, and he’s almost disappointed when he’s rubbing his eyes. “Leaving already?”

“No, where are your pans?” I ask. “I want to make you breakfast.” 

“Did I fuck you that well?” he jokes, stretching his arms high above his head. “Be right there.”

Rhys walks into the kitchen with a groan, setting a frying pan on the stove top, and I crack an egg onto it when it’s at temperature. He hugs me from behind, cupping my bare breasts and giving them a squeeze. “Those are my socks…and my boxers.”

I shake my ass playfully. “They look better on me.” 

He yawns again. “It’s so early.”

“My dad taught me how important it is to wake up early, because his dad taught him the same thing,” I beam proudly. 

“Is it a metabolism thing?” 

“Nope,” I say, flipping the egg high up in the air. It lands with a violent sizzle. “Making time for breakfast, no matter how busy your day is.” 

“Do you have a lot to do today?” Rhys asks with a smile.

“Nope. Why? Are you kicking me out after we eat?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He kisses me. Deeply. And I can’t help but smile against him.

The edges of the egg are burning. I should take them off the pan, but all I can think of is how happy I am. 

Life isn’t always easy, but I know the hardships are worth it if I can experience the sweet moments like this. 

Written for image 17 for the June contest!

A follow-up to one of my prompt 04 pieces. It’s not necessary, per se, but there if you want more of Ava!

~

When Ava’s boyfriend, Bryce, was relocated to Paris for two months, it left her in quite a predicament. With no job of her own, she wasn’t sure how to pay Bryce’s portion of his rent, considering she was staying there for now. 

Bryce's roommates, Cal and Dan, came up with a workable solution: her body in exchange for a place to live and not having to worry about food. Free use. Whenever. Wherever. Ava was hesitant at first, but she accepted. It was fine. And then, she started enjoying it. 

Communication was key in all successful relationships, but obviously, she couldn’t tell Bryce this. The secret ate up at her; Bryce would hate her if he knew the truth. Ava tried to rationalize it by thinking of it as a way of paying him back. He’d always gotten her out of bad situations, so he shouldn’t be forced to have to pay for her to live here while also paying for his place in Paris.

He would understand. Or…at least she hoped so.

While her loyalty faltered, she had to compensate somewhere else. Communication came to mind. Obviously, keeping in contact would be a hurdle, but they had to make it work. The eight-hour time difference did a number on them; when it was night for one, it was usually daytime for the other. Calls while Bryce was on the way to work were usually short since he had a short commute, and that was for the best.

Maybe it was just poor timing, but when Bryce called Ava, she was usually getting fucked by Cal or Dan (on a few occasions, both at the same time). She had hiding that down to a science, nailing the timing for muting and unmuting. Some days she felt bad for Bryce, but after coming a few times, those thoughts would fade. It was worth it, especially when he explained how excited he was that Dan and Cal said that he didn’t have to pay them back anymore. If only he knew what it took.

Ava continued searching for jobs casually, even if her current setup wasn’t so bad. She could count on sex a few times a day, which was a boon to her current libido with Bryce across an ocean. They had phone sex a few times with him, but having the real thing on hand was always better.

She shushed her roommates and had them pause when an unknown number called; a job finally got back to her! Ava did well enough on the interview, basically getting hired on the spot. Whether the job was desperate or she really was that good of a candidate, she knew better than to think twice. 

The first few weeks were tough. Constantly tardy. If her car hadn’t been out of commission, she would’ve been fine, but taking the train made way for delays more often than not. Not to mention, getting out the door was a challenge when the boys wanted to squeeze in a quickie before she left. 

The extra money was nice. Not being home meant she could give her holes some well-deserved rest, which was appreciated. Ava figured she was late one too many times, and when she was called into her boss’s office, she braced herself for a termination letter when she closed the door behind her.

~

“Ava, please sit down,” Emil, her boss, tells her with an uneasy look, motioning to the chair across his desk. He cracks a smile. “Come on, you’re so tense. Is everything alright?”

“Is this about my lateness?” Ava asks before easing herself onto the chair. She dips her head behind clasped hands. “I completely understand if this means I lose my position. I just really, really wanted to thank you for the opportunity–”

“Ava, please. You’re not getting fired,” he says, chuckling, and the weight on her shoulders lightens (just a tad). “I just wanted to ask if anything’s the matter. Are you experiencing some hardship? I believe in communication in the company.”

“Um,” Ava starts, not sure what to disclose. “Commuting has been tough to adjust to, I guess.” 

“I can send my driver to you, to and from work,” Emil offers. “I can drive perfectly fine, and I don’t need it nearly as much as some of my employees do. Please, I insist.”

“That’s great, Mr. Vincent–”

“Emil,” he interrupts with a smile.

“Thank you, Emil, but I couldn’t impose,” Ava says. “I need to get better about budgeting for time in the mornings. I’ve got a…unique living arrangement at the moment. It’s, uh…complicated. Not really something I should talk about at work.” 

“This is a safe space to tell me anything you’re comfortable with sharing. Again, I just want to know what my employees are going through so I can understand–and maybe even help.”

Ava sighs, sitting back in her chair. It’s a long story, but Emil listens attentively. His face drops as she continues. Emil’s brows furrow for her in sympathy, and in time, he looks away, scratching his head, shaking it. Ava can tell he’s likely not heard of anything of the sort before. 

“How much are you on the hook for?” he asks with pursed lips while jotting something down.

“I don’t actually know, but there’s just two months’ worth of rent, utilities, and groceries. For the most part, I’ve been covered. My pay here is basically just pocket money…” Her voice trails off when Emil slides a piece of paper with a number written on it. Her eyes widen. “Mr. Vincent, that’s way too much–”

“Pocket the rest, then,” Emil says, shrugging. “It’ll be added to your paycheck as a bonus. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, thank you,” Ava says. “Since you bought me out of the contract, does that mean you get to benefit from the same terms?”

“Heavens no,” Emil says. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. I’ve helped employees with a semester of school here and there. Medical bills. Just about anything. I like to believe I offer equitable pay for the market, but I recognize life throws just about anything at us when we least expect it. I like to take care of my team.”

“Still, I feel guilty taking this much, and I haven’t even been here very long at all. You’re sure there’s nothing you want?”

Emil smiles. “If you’re so insistent, I won’t say no. You’re…not the first secretary I’ve had a few flings with, but I will insist that you be very clear about what you want and don’t want. Communication is everything here.”

“I appreciate it, Mr. Vincent. Truly,” Ava says with a polite nod of her head. She darts up with widened eyes. “I forgot to mention that your 3 o’clock appointment called earlier and wanted to reschedule for 12:30.”

Emil checks the time, frowning. “So I imagine they’ll arrive shortly?”

“No, I told them you couldn’t accommodate the adjustment. I know you like your long lunches,” Ava says with a smile. “And of course, I didn’t let the client know that.”

“Now this is why I’m insistent on keeping you around,” Emil says, grinning. “You’re a fast learner, and you’re already quite savvy about my preferences.”

“Speaking of preferences, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Ava starts. “Did I get this job because I’m easy on the eyes? I often don’t feel like I belong here.”

“Oh, you definitely belong here,” Emil assures. “You never overbook appointments. Your call times are shorter, and I’ve been hearing good things from my colleagues who have reached out to me after speaking to you. They say you’re very friendly.”

“Thank goodness,” she says, standing after she brushes off her skirt. Ava takes a few steps towards the door, but a few words stop her in place.

“It helps that I have a thing for brunettes,” Emil adds. “I quite like your hair when it’s up in a ponytail.”

“It’s great for grabbing, or at least that’s what my roommates say,” she says, walking back and leaning against Emil’s desk. Ava meets his eyes. “You could find out for yourself, if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not ruin your hair,” Emil responds, eyes taking in Ava’s curves.

“Then perhaps I can show you how good I am with my hands?” Ava offers, playfully running her fingers over the back of Emil’s neck. “Feels like there are a few knots that need to be worked out.”

“If you’re offering to massage me, I’ll take it. I keep meaning to go get one.”

Ava kneads his neck, pushing out stubborn knots with her thumbs. She feels tough tissue cracking and bumps breaking. As she works his muscles, a groan slips past his lips, and Ava starts to wonder what kind of noises he makes during sex.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out quickly. Bryce is calling. She answers. “Hi, baby! How are you doing? Yeah? You’re thinking of me? I’d love to do that, but I’m kind of at work now.”

Emil mouths some words, and Ava raises her brow, muting the phone. “This is your boyfriend? Put him on speaker. I won’t say a word.”

Ava unmutes herself, raising a brow. “Sorry, baby. I was able to sneak away and found a nice corner of the building where no one goes. I have some time for you, if you want, but we have to be quick.”

“That’s so ballsy,” Bryce says, groaning between words. “Is that how badly you want me?”

“Yeah,” Ava coos. She looks at Emil while she hikes up the front of her skirt. Leaning forward, she passes her hand along his crotch, slowly, letting the contact drag. “Are you stroking it for me?”

“Yeah, I’ve been so horny lately. I miss you so much. It’s throbbing in my hands, and I’m wishing it were your hands instead,” Bryce says.

“I’m reaching down my pants panties,” Ava says. Her fingers crawl under frilly, pink lace. “I’m rubbing my clit thinking of how hard you must be.” 

Ava puts her hand on Emil’s shoulder, biting her lip as she looks down at him. “I really wish you could be eating my pussy right now.”

She guides his hands to the sides of her panties, helping him pull them down slowly, and she moans when his knuckles graze sensually along her stockings. Closing the distance, she walks towards Emil, tensing when his hands rest firmly on her waist. He brings his head closer, kissing her navel over her clothes. He takes his time, moving down over the fabric, and impatience gets the better of Ava. Her fingers find his hair, and a gentle push moves him down; Emil looks up with a knowing smirk.

“I haven’t tasted you in so long,” Bryce says, moaning. “I should’ve packed a pair of your used panties in my bag so I could sniff them whenever I missed you.”

Ava looks down. One of Emil’s hands fiddles with the lace of her panties hanging around her thighs. He can probably tell that she was soaked through the fabric, and he creeps down to sneak a whiff, grinning after a deep inhale. 

He returns to her muff, planting a sweet kiss on it, and Ava shudders. She hooks a finger under his chin, tilting him up to look at her, and she mouths “Please… I want you…”

She moans a few times for the phone before muting it, and the groans that follow are less performative. Genuine. Real. Emil’s tongue feels really good, and the hand holding her skirt up grips the fabric shakily.

“You taste so sweet,” Emil tells her. His lips lock around her swollen bud, hugging it tightly and letting his tongue flick against it. “You’re telling me his friends got a taste of this every day?”

“They were more interested in fucking me senseless,” Ava clarifies, smiling.

Emil scoffs, grinning wider. “I had no idea you’re capable of swearing like that. I like the way the words come out of those lips.”

She unmutes the phone and addresses Bryce. “I’m imagining you licking me…teasing me. Kissing me down there…it feels so good the way you suck my clit.”

“Would you want my fingers too?” Bryce asks through groans of his own.

“Please.” Ava locks eyes with Emil, and she nods desperately. Her lips part when his fingers wiggle their way into her. They’re thick and rugged, not like Bryce’s at all. Emil has plenty of experience, from the way he curls them inside her, and when his tongue laps slowly over her clits, her knees nearly buckle beneath her.

“Soooo good,” she moans slowly. “Your mouth feels so good.”

“I miss your pussy,” Bryce says. “You must be so tight. It’s been so long since I’ve felt it…”

Ava is a little irked that Bryce skipped the foreplay. Even if it’s just phone sex, she wasn’t there yet in the fantasy. It’s okay. She can tell how needy he is. His voice is riddled with urgency.

It would be so easy to shatter his fantasy. How would he react knowing she’s been fucked every day since he’s been gone? Dan and Cal seldom gave her a break, and now her boss has his fingers deep inside her. 

A moan slips out as Emil keeps working wonders with his fingers and worshiping her with his tongue. He’s so different from Bryce, Cal, and Dan. They all rush through every part of the process, but Emil takes his time, treating her like a luxury, showing his gratitude with every motion and movement.

“I’m so close,” Bryce announces, and his breath picks up. They can hear the slapping of his fist against his trunk as he jerks himself off furiously. From the moans that follow, he’s probably spilling all over his hand, holding onto the memory of the last time they had sex, which feels so long ago for Ava.

“Sounds like a good one,” Ava says with a grin. “Did you make a big mess?”

“Of course,” he says, drowsily. “Did you get to finish?”

“No, not yet,” Ava says. “I’m sorry.”

“I bet you’ve been missing me,” Bryce says. “Spending the nights touching yourself, thinking of me.”

“Uh-huh,” Ava lies. She keeps up the ruse. It’s better for Bryce to believe it, even if the truth is much darker. In reality, she was being used by Bryce's roommates repeatedly, over and over, until his bedsheets were soaked with a sultry mix of juices and the room stank. “Every night, I think of the things I wanna do with you when you get back.”

“What kind of things?” Bryce asks.

She goes on to list things she’d done with Dan and Cal, but not him. Precious first times that she gave to his friends. ‘I want it raw. I want you to fill me up. I want you to fuck my throat and choke me and treat me like the slut I am. I’ll even let you fuck my ass.”

The more she talks, the more she’s surprised that Bryce doesn’t respond. He’s surprisingly quiet on his side of the line, and in time, she hears a snore. It must’ve been quite the climax to put him straight to sleep. Ava laughs. “How about I catch you later? I’ll talk to you later, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Bryce answers sleepily, and Ava hangs up. She looks down at her boss. “Fuck, you got me so riled up.”

“Don’t you mean you mean, he did?” Emil asks, giving his tongue a break before continuing the eager laps while his fingers press against her sweet spot. Ava doesn’t answer, and she can’t see the way he smirks from how deeply he buries his face into her pussy. “You’re sure this is okay? He seems like a sweet kid, and now that you don’t have that free-use agreement with your roommates, you don’t have to be doing things like this.”

“I want this,” Ava admits. “When he told me he was going to Paris for two months, I was happy for him because it would be good for him, but I hated the idea that he would be so far. I have needs.”

Emil’s tongue speeds up, and he rubs her sweet spot, slowly massaging the inside of her walls, applying more pressure as he feels her clutch around him. “That’s it. Good girl.”

“No, Ava says, and Emil snaps his eyes up towards her. “Call me a slut.”

“You’re such a dirty slut, cheating on your boyfriend,” Emil tells her, licking faster.

“Call me your slut…”

“You’re my dirty, little slut,” Emil says. His other hand rest on her ass, finding its way under her garter belt, and he squeezes her, groping until it spurs a near airless moan. 

Ava‘s legs nearly give out, but Emil’s strong hold keeps her up. Her voice is shaky, and she pushes words out between moans. “Oh, Mr. Vincent….please keep going….don’t stop…”

He doesn’t dare to take his mouth off of her; his fingers ease in and out, tongue flicking wildly against her swollen bud. Everything is more intense when he feels a tug against his white hair.

Heavy breaths barely make their way out as she huffs. The tightness in her stomach tightens, coiling around and around until the pressure releases all at once. “Fuck!” 

Her legs clamp together, trapping Emil’s hand, but it doesn't stop him. His fingers keep pressing where she needs them, and her hips follow his tempo as he slurps her up. Ava grabs his hair tighter, hips rolling uncontrollably into Emil’s face. Pleasure rolls through her in waves. “Oh, my god.” 

“How did I do?” 

“Very good,” Ava says.

“Then why does your face say otherwise?”

“Oh, um,” she says, hiding the smile and blush on her face with a hand. “It was great, but I really need a dick inside me now.” 

“Didn’t I say communication is key? You just tell me whatever you want, and I will make it happen,” Emil says, wrapping an arm around Ava's waist. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Ava nods, and Emil helps her onto his desk, hiking her skirt up, spreading her legs.  He pulls down his pants until he springs out. Ava stares at the neatly trimmed hair on his trunk, dusted salt and pepper. She reaches down, angling him up against her entrance, and her hands on his waist beckon him closer, inching deeper. He bottoms out in no time.

When he speeds up, it’s fireworks. Boom after boom as their bodies collide. She wraps her arms around him, holding him, and their foreheads meet. The grunts he gifts her with are much better than when she was massaging him. Absolutely feral, brimming with want. “Oh, you feel incredible.” 

“I love that dick,” Ava says. “I'm such a slut for that dick.” 

“And to think you thought I was gonna fire you,” Emil jokes. “Aren’t you glad I’m keeping you around?”

“Mhm,” Ava answers through pursed lips. The moment is so raw. Charged. She eyes the door to Emil’s office. Unlocked. Someone could walk in at any moment. 

Still, she moans shamelessly, for him, loving every deep stroke. There's a shift in his angle, and he's ramming her sweet spot until her eyes roll back. “Oh, fuck…yeah…just like that. Keep…hitting…”

Emil holds Ava in place, fucking her faster to meet the tempo of her hurried, shallow breaths. “You're such a good slut for me.” 

“I'm all yours now,” Ava tells him. Embracing him, resting her chin on his shoulder, is the only thing keeping her grounded. 

“At least until your boyfriend comes back,” Emil says with a chuckle. 

“I’ll work overtime. Pick up extra hours, just so I can get this as much as I can,” Ava says, fighting through bated breath. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She grasps him tightly as her eyes slam shut, and her mouth parts, releasing nothing but a stray whimper. Ava pulses around Emil tightly, rhythm matching the throbbing of his eager cock that slams in and out. As her fingers grip his clothes, she unravels around him, muffling cries against his shoulder until she’s reduced to shaky, needy breaths. 

“Had your fill yet?” he asks with a smirk. 

“Actually,” Ava starts, giggling at Emil’s wording. “You said I could ask for anything?”

“Always,” he says, raising a brow, resisting a smile. “What would you like? Tell me.”

“I want you to fill me up,” Ava requests shamelessly. There’s a heat in the pit of her stomach that needs to be addressed. She’s too far gone to just stomp it out. She needs to quench this thirst. “I’ve never felt it before.”

“Not with your boyfriend?”

“Never. We’ve never even done it raw,” Ava admits.

“Not with your roommates?”

“I’ve only let them creampie my ass.”

Emil laughs, “Shouldn’t you save this for your boyfriend when he gets back? It could be quite the reunion. You should experience some firsts with him too.”

Part of Ava knows he’s right, but she’s not thinking straight, and arousal has the helm. “No…I want it to be you. Now.”

“Are you sure?” Emil asks, strain building in his voice. He slows down, but drives deeper, going from tip to hilt with a hard slam each stroke.

“Yes...” 

“Last chance to change your mind,” Emil tells her through gritted teeth. Firm hands travel up Ava’s back.

“Please, give it to me.”

“You can get pregnant, you know.”

“I know,” Ava moans, “ I don’t care.” 

She gasps when she feels a hard tug on her ponytail. Her head stares straight to the ceiling, and she grabs his grey hair in response, holding him against her. Emil thrusts rapidly, cock throbbing as it pushes out rope after rope deep into her pussy. “Fuck, it's so much…” 

Ava’s legs shake when he withdraws, and she’s seeing stars. “Wow. I don’t remember any of this in the job description. Is this a perk of the job?”

“It can be if you want it,” Emil offers. “What do you say?”

“I don’t know,” Ava teases, “why did the last secretary leave?”

“She couldn’t keep up,” he answers with a wink.

“That won’t be a problem,” Ava promises, feeling herself dripping into her panties as she slips them back on. Warm seed, cooling and soaking into lace, rests against her, and the feeling of Emil pulsing inside her of her leaves her grinning like an idiot. She grabs her phone, surprised by a few missed calls from Bryce. She hardly noticed when she was getting fucked just moments ago.

She calls him back, and he answers immediately, putting him on speakerphone again. “Hey, baby. Looking for round two?”

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he says, “I just wanted to chat for a bit, since I couldn’t text much while I was at work. Is now a good time?”

“It’s perfect,” Ava says. “I’m about to go on lunch.”

“Isn’t it a little late?” Bryce asks, laughing.

Ava locks eyes with Emil and giggles. ‘I just got caught up with some work stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How are you adjusting to the workload?”

“It’s a lot,” she says, thinking of the warmth pooling inside her, dripping into her panties. “But I’m pretty sure I can take it. I’m gonna like this job a lot.” 

Ava’s grateful for the fact that she and Bryce make time to talk to each other. Communication is important. It’s what keeps their relationship as strong as it is.

Written for image 20 for the June contest!

~

I love cum. It’s a bit of a problem. It doesn’t matter the method. Blowjob. Handjob. Footjob. Sprayed all over my torso, back, or deep inside my pussy or ass. I love it all.

I’ve always loved the idea of copious amounts of cum dripping all over me, but a standard load seldom does that. Even the rare hook-up afflicted (though I would argue blessed) by hyperspermia can’t keep up with my fetish.

I can bridge the gap with fake cum. A few times, I’d resorted to making my own, but I’m glad it’s commercially available. I always joke with retailers when they’ll start carrying larger sizes, to which I am met with widened eyes.

For my 30th birthday, I had the best idea: a way to celebrate myself as well as my love of splooge. I found an industrial rental space, and though it looked dodgy, it was perfect for my proposed gangbang. The real issue was recruiting 30 men to fulfil my fantasy.

I reserved a few spots for a few people I knew well enough. My guy best friends. A coworker who had taken me out a few times. A guy from the gym that I caught staring on more than one occasion. For the remaining spots, I pinned a flyer with some tearaway tags at the bottom up at my local sketchy sex shop. I checked back at the end of the week and found all the tags were taken, much to my delight.

The week leading up to my party was spent getting me all dolled up. I got my hair done, nails done, and even picked a cute outfit. It was all for show. I knew by the end of the night, my makeup would be ruined, and I would need a very long shower after.

The mess is absolutely part of the joy, though, so I couldn’t be more excited. 

After juggling countless conversations with anonymous numbers and collecting clean bills of health all around, the day approached sooner than I thought, and my anticipation grew with every evening.

~

The rules are simple. After a small meet and greet of mingling over drinks, I brought out a fish bowl filled with slips, numbered 1 through 30. Every man picks a number. Every man follows the order. They could request anything they wanted, and it was fair game as long as I agreed to it. All I really cared about was the cum.

1 is a sweetie pie, timid, likely one of the strangers from the sex shop flyer. It’s hard to be the first one to start. All eyes are on him, and he has to set the pace. By the time everyone’s ready to go, stripped down to their birthday suits, he’s standing in front of me, anxiously jerking his half-hearted dick.

Politely, I ask if he wants some help. He agrees to it, and I kneel in front of him, staring up with a smile before locking my lips around him. He’s freshly shaved, and I smell the scent of Irish Springs. How courteous to be clean for a gangbang.

After sucking him for a few minutes, he easily hardens in my mouth, not easing in a full mast. I ask if he wants to fuck me, but he’s perfectly content with my mouth, praising how good I feel.

I shrug, letting my hands rest on his body while bobbing my head. I suck him, locking eyes and loving the way he bites his lips. He twitches in my mouth, and I caress his balls until he explodes down my throat. I show him my tongue, eager to show how good I am not–wasting a single drop of his cum.

2 and 3 approached me at once, standing on either side of me. I try to be fair, giving each of them ample attention, but 3 is generous, content with stroking himself while 2 gets the brunt of my focus. 2 pulls out at the last second, spraying all over my face, and 3 manages a to land some globs on my chest before the rest dribbles onto the floor. 

I thank them both with a kiss on the cheek, and help myself, scooping a heaping fingerful cum into my mouth. When 4 walks up, he dips his dick into the pool in my chest and offers it to me, knowing full well that I’d lick him clean. He wipes his palm across my face, using cum he gathers to coat his dick.

Eagerly, I help myself to him again, only for him to say that my hand is okay–I imagine he’s a fellow cum connoisseur, and he must enjoy the sight of a cum-covered cock as much as I do. I wrap my hand around him, and the cum on his dick helps me glide across him. I stroke him to completion, letting him adorn me with a beautiful pearl necklace. All the last few drops drip over my hand.

5 is first to fuck me, putting me in all fours and taking me from behind. 6 walks up to take my mouth. They’re both huge, and I find myself bouncing between them, having either my pussy or mouth filled. It’s exhilarating, and I can tell the two are competing to see who can last the longest.  

5 loses, blasting deep in my pussy. I feel him twitch, and his nails dig into my thighs as he unloads every drop. 6 laughs, grinning in victory, and he grips my tied-up bun, fucking my face until stray tears finally have my mascara running. He pulls out, and I initially think it’s to let me breathe, but he flips me on my back before plunging deep into my throat, fucking my mouth like I’m his personal fleshlight. So hot. 

7 puts himself between my parted legs and slides right in, aided by 5’s thick load. Excitement gets the best of him, and he comes loudly, groaning the loudest of the attendees so far. He grins, not too remorseful about his brief turn, and 8 eagerly takes his place, letting his shaft slide along my drenched lips. I anticipate him putting it in, but when he presses his rock-hard shaft against my clit to rub with every pass, I have no complaints. 8’s the first to make me come (and 7 cums deep in my throat at the sight), and I reward 8 by angling his cock down to give me a proper dicking. 

9 has been staring at my feet since we started, even when I was fully dressed (the French tips were a good move). He asks to worship my feet, and I let him, as long as he doesn’t disrupt the other men. 8 pulls my leg up to rest my ankle on his shoulder, and 9 walks closer, taking my foot into his mouth.

His mouth is so gentle and careful, treating my feet like heaven on earth. He provides plenty of attention to each of my toes, sucking them and licking them, tracing his tongue along my arch and heel, and 8 busts inside of me. I grant 9 what I imagine he came for: a slow, sensual footjob. 

10, 11, and 12 walk together towards me, looking at each other with a grin. A few games of Rock Paper Scissors decide who gets my mouth, and the other two get my hands. With my attention split between that many people, I imagine my footjob isn’t my best work. 9 douses his cock in lube and presses my feet together, fucking the space between my toes. He pops in no time, glazing my toes with a fresh coat of white. He steals one more taste, sucking one of them clean, and 13–the man I invited from the gym–walks up behind him.

Well, being an unlucky number, 13 is a stroke of good luck. Hung. Maybe even the biggest I’ve seen in person. He’s the first participant for whom I have a special request: to ride him. He lies down on his back, and I straddle him, impaling myself on top of him. My trio rotates positions, and I get back to work. Everything's busy: my hands, mouth, and pussy. I love the attention. 10, 11 and 12 are surprisingly patient. The two on my hands take the reins and stroke themselves to spray over my face, and 12 fills my mouth after a bout of friendly fire.

13’s hands grab my waist, and he thrusts up into me. There’s so much power behind every deep stroke, and that huge dick numbs my thoughts. I’ve seen him hip thrust, so I must be light work for him, but each motion is explosive. 14 surprises me by coming up completely flaccid. He offers two shot glasses: the first being a shot of rum (a fine choice), while the second is a thick, milky liquid, purring a grin for me. 

The buzz from the rum is pleasant, but I’m cumdrunk from the shot of jizz. I’m licking the glass clean, and 13 throbs and pulses, filling me with hot his hot seed. He climbs up from under me, and the amount that leaks onto the ground is insane.

The “drinks” keep coming in. 23 walks up, and I chide him for skipping in line. With a grin, he assures me he’s following the rules, presenting me with a gift: two pitchers filled with an impressive amount of loads, courtesy of 15 through 22.

I take one of the jugs from 23 and stare up at him. My eyes must be glimmering brightly from the way he smiles. He tells me to drink it, and I slowly tilt the pitcher back, watching him groan and empty himself, adding another load to the second pitcher.

The mix of textures and tastes would be disgusting for most, but not me. The more my cheeks fill, the more my thighs clench together to fight my arousal. My legs part when 24 gently pries them open, and his fingers flick against my sweet spot, scooping cum out with every swipe.

I breathe through my nose, carefully downing the loads, gulping it down gradually. It’s not a race, but the eyes on me want to put on such a good performance for everyone. I present a clean tongue, and I’m met with cheers and applause. 

The sheer volume of the second pitcher takes me by surprise. I cough and sputter, and cum drips down my chin, but 25 helps gather it back into my mouth. I gulp down maybe half of the mixture before I can swallow the rest, and 25 pinches my cheeks, holding my mouth open, jerking himself until he adds one more load to the pool on my tongue. A hand below my chin eases my mouth closed, and I force it all down, gasping for air after.

24 keeps working my walls. My eyes twitch while my body quakes on top of him. I grab him, resting my forehead on his shoulder, and I cry out as violent spurts spray out a mix of squirt and seed into his palm. He smears his hands against my face, and I nuzzle my cheek against his palm, kissing it and sucking the fingers that he used to make me come.

So, so delicious.

26 is my coworker. I can only imagine how badly he wants this. He’s not subtle when he stares at my cleavage during meetings, and I always know his head snaps to take a look at my ass when I walk past him. He’ll disappear for longer breaks, and I just know he’s fantasizing about fucking me.

Today, it becomes a reality. He leans me on my back and holds my ankles up. His torso flattens against mine, and he ignores the loads that slip between us. He’s too horny to care. He slams into my pussy, pinning my legs against my body, and he grunts, telling me all the places he’s wanted to fuck me at work. The coffee room, the bathroom, his office. He’s having the time of my life of his life, and so am I. His deep thrusts and grinding against my clit have me coming all over his cock. 

27 and 28 kneel to take the spots on either side of my head. I grabbed their cocks, stroking them best I can, lubing them up with whatever spit I can offer. 28 comes first, emptying himself all over my face, and 27 decides my chest needs some love, shooting spunk all over my breasts.

26 puts me all fours, and my eyes widen when he takes my ass. Cum from the others helps him ease in, but once he’s fully seated, I beg him to destroy me. 29 is one of my best friends from college. We’ve hooked up plenty, so he’s well acquainted with my fetish. He kneels in front of me, and I give him the sloppiest top I can muster. He tells me I’ve gotten better since we last hooked up, and when he’s about to bust, I push him out and stroke him until he covers my face with thick ropes. 

30 is my childhood friend. We grew up together, and have kept up ever since. 26, eases out, and the two help me to my feet. They work together, letting 26 put me in a full nelson, and his dick fills my ass again, clapping against my cheeks. 30 eases into my pussy, and having both holes filled at once is dizzying. 

I can only imagine they can feel each other throb; I sure can, at least. 26 is at his limit, and when his hilt collides with my ass one last time, I feel him shoot deep into my hole. He eases out, helping me back down to my feet, and my legs give out from under me. I pull 26 down for a kiss, but he pulls away, grimacing. Post-nut clarity. I get it. 

30 helps me onto my back and lowers himself on top of me. He throbs as he slides inside, and his arms slide under my back. He holds me close, and my legs wrap around him, easing his hips into mine. He’s sweet, and his movements are gentle but calculated. I imagine this is how he would make love to his partner, and my limbs wrap around him, holding him tightly as he makes me come. Our hips grind, and my body spasms beneath him. 

I so wanted him to come with me at the same time, but he has other ideas. He withdraws from my leaking, spent slit and straddles my stomach, plunging his dick between my breasts. I hold them together, and he grins. His hardness is coated in a mix of my juices and the loads from my chest. I open my mouth, eager to take his tip in when he fucks my rack. It doesn’t take much more before he shoots all over my face. 

29 returns with a damp rag, and I assure that I’m okay, looking around to see who’s lingering. Now that everyone’s had a turn and the order was followed, it’s a free-for-all. I push for patience with the other participants but welcome everyone to indulge in seconds (I sure will). In lieu of party favors (I stand by my penchant for hosting), I encourage everyone to take as many videos and photos as they’d like–mementoes for their spankbanks. 

Men I don’t recognize circle me first–likely my donors from the pitchers from earlier–and I enjoy the diversity of dicks surrounding me. I thank them generously, giving them each a turn with my mouth while my hands help whoever wants me. 

Cum gets everywhere. Definitely on my face. All over my body. Overflowing from my navel. I’m sure it’s in my hair (thank you, 18). 20 specially requests I lift my arms to leave a load in my pits, which is a little unconventional, but the way he groans for me brings a smile to my face. 
 
I’m gifted another pitcher of cum, definitely not filled as much as the ones from before, but I don’t mind. That just means the others want a more active role. Warmth fills my belly when I chug it all down, and I lie down, knees a little raw from the concrete floor. 

My vision blurs as I slowly lose track of everything happening around me. There’s so much at once. 16–or is he 21–is fucking my face, and there are pulsing cocks in my hands, dripping thick loads onto my wrist. I’m being pounded again by 13, and my head spins when he’s slamming into my sweet spot. I unravel around him again, and he’s quickly replaced by another, and repeat. 

The men fizzle out as they get their fill, and when 26 finally fills me again, he walks away to get dressed. 29 and 30, the sweethearts they are, offer to help me clean, but I assure them it’ll be taken care of. They gift me with a white silk robe (it’s cheap, likely from Temu), and I thank them generously as they drape it over my shoulders, offering to top them off for the night. 

They decline, and I’m left in the warehouse alone. 

My footsteps patter against cold concrete, and I hear splatters of cum drip on the floor, echoing through the space. I plop down on the couch, a little bummed it didn’t get much use (especially after the deal I got on Facebook Marketplace), and I perk up when the door opens. 

I recognize 31’s silhouette immediately. It’s Hubby. “Gabe!”

“Sorry, Quinn. Work kept me way later than I thought,” Gabe apologizes with a grimace. “Was hoping I’d get a chance to watch the action, but I guess I’m late for the party.”

“You can always help clean up,” I offer. 

“You or the venue?” he asks, motioning towards piles of used paper plates and crushed cans and cups. Gabe smiles when I beckon him closer with a curl of my finger.

Gabe walks closer, removing his blazer and tossing it on the sofa’s armrest. He loosens his tie, looking down at me. I can see his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “God, you look incredible tonight. Did you have fun?”

“So much fun. You would’ve enjoyed some of the guys,” I tell him. I tilt my head and raise a brow. “Though…some of them looked a little familiar. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t send anyone my way?”

“I won’t say one way or the other. But if I did, consider it a surprise gift from your husband,” Gabe tells me cryptically. He gets to his knees when I part my legs to make space for him, and as he scoots closer, I’m untucking his shirt and undoing each button slowly, letting the moment drag.

I feel how hard Gabe is for me already, and I lick my lips, savoring the leftover morsels of sweet and salty. He stops my hand, pulling it away, when I try to undo his belt, and he wags his finger with a grin.

“I’m here to help clean up, aren’t I?” Gabe says, smiling. He leans in, pressing his lips into mine. His kisses are the best, so gentle until they aren’t. He deepens it in no time with a hand resting against my nap, pressing me against him.

My breath hitches when he pulls away, and I grip his shirt to take his mouth again. I give him my tongue, and he accepts it happily. He moves to kiss my cheek, and I feel his tongue scoop a generous glob, gifting me with another soft smooch. Gabe tilts my head back, opening my mouth, and like muscle memory, I stick out my tongue, waiting in anticipation as cum drips onto it. 

I hum happily, closing my mouth, swirling the gift in my mouth before Gabe’s lips crashes against mine. I feel his tongue press more of the gathered seed into my mouth, and I press back. It’s a sloppy, messy kiss, the wettest I’ve had all night, because few can oblige me as well as my husband. 

Hungrily, he laps at my chin, and I desperately grab him for another deep kiss. While I love all things cum-related, there’s nothing quite like swapping and snowballing. It’s a turnoff for plenty, but Gabe was open to it when we first tried, and we’ve never looked back since. It’s intimate. A true litmus test of how comfortable a man can be.

It’s even better when it’s someone else’s cum. I have no way of knowing whose load Gabe and I are passing back and forth, but we simply do not care. Our lips lock together, and we grip each other tight like a vice. Charged breaths through our noses give us the air we need. 

Gabe pulls away, and I gasp, staring at the trails of spit connecting our lips. His thumbs gently graze over my eyelids, pushing residual spunk away. I blink a few times, happy to see so clearly now, treated by the awe riddled over my husband’s face. He smiles, kissing the tip of my nose, while his thumbs caress my cheeks. “There’s those eyes of yours. God. You look so beautiful covered like that. My pretty little cumslut.” 

My face has been covered with countless hot ropes over the course of the night, but his words bring a heat to my face. I’m glad pearly white covers the pink in my cheeks. Feeling his lips travel down my body puts a pause in my breath. 

Gabe wraps his lips around my nipples, sucking them hard, nibbling and licking. Tasting cum off my soft skin. His tongue flicks faster when I hold his head against me.

“Lick me clean, love,” I coo, pushing his shirt off. Slouching against the sofa, I grin, savoring the sensation of his mouth on me. He travels farther down, and I bite my lip, stifling the groans that threaten to slip out when he passes over my navel, kissing my overgrowth gently. Gabe’s eyes find mine, and his grin deepens. I part my legs in response. “Oh, love, you’re so, so good to me.” 

His fingers slip in first, gliding in until he finds my sweet spot. A few slow rubs speed up, hammering against the rigid wall, and warm breath gets closer to my muff. A soft kiss on my clit sends a jolt through my body, and his flattened tongue, lapping slowly, raises a tide inside me. My body rocks to his tempo, ebbing and flowing, waxing and waning, and the intensity grows as he puts more pressure behind his tongue. 

Gabe loves to eat pussy. I have to beg him to let me have a turn with his dick, but he is so, so stubborn. It’s such a treat to watch him devour me. So handsome. So dedicated to my pleasure. The extra deposits deep inside me have him a bit more ardent than usual. I’m certainly not complaining. “You got filled up today, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I admit, eyeing dried pools on the concrete from earlier. “I was leaking so much, and they just kept fucking the other loads deeper. It was so hot.”

“I can taste it on you,” Gabe says, voice low, licking his lips when he locks eyes with me. After a flurry of quick flicks of his tongue, he tells me, “You taste so good.” 

His fingers and tongue quicken, and his lips lock around my clit while he sucks it. I’m writhing against him, grinding needily, and my freshly done nails thread through his hair, pulling him into me until I close around his fingers. “F-fuck…”

He wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand and grins. “Did you get to come at all tonight?”

“A few times,” I tell him. He can see my slight disappointment on my crooked pursed lips. “I guess it comes with the territory, though. The spectacle, and all. A little sad you couldn’t make it when everyone was here…you could’ve shown them how to please me.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” he says. “Next time, I promise. But right now, I want to be a little greedy and have the birthday girl all to myself.” 

“I’d like that too,” I say with a giggle. My eyes close when he kisses me softly, contrasted by the way his hands grip the back of my thighs, pushing them towards my body. A shudder slips out when he pulls away, and I watch him drop his pants to whip out his cock at last. 

“Did you suck a lot of dick tonight?” Gabe asks, petting the top of my head, and stroking his hardness. He bites his lip, tapping his tip against my tongue. 

“Of course,” I say proudly. “I should’ve taken more videos and pics, but my hands were full.” 

Gabe laughs and eases down, angling himself against my entrance. He puts just the tip in, and I wince. With no lube in an arm’s grasp away, he makes do with some leftover cum from my stomach, spreading it along him. Gabe tries again, and it’s night and day.

Fuck. That’s perfect.

Admittedly, I’m a little sore from the poundings I’ve gotten today, but I always have it in me to take Gabe. A few sharp exhales help me take him, and I’m surprised how tightly I grip him. His body weight pins me against the couch. My ankles rest on his shoulders, bouncing with every peak of his thrust, and I feel him reach deep. 

Everyone today pistoned me like a jackhammer, but Gabe knows sometimes I need slow and deep. Every stroke, tip to hilt, stretches on long, and my mouth gapes in pleasure, curling into a contented smile, when our trunks grind against each other. 

My core tightens, spasming, and while most would take that as a sign to speed up and drive it home, Gabe continues taking his time. I reach a hand down to play with my clit, but he grabs my wrist, pinning it near my head on the back of the couch. He does it himself after licking his thumb, and slow circles on my bud are just as agonizing as the tempo of his thrusts.

“Gabe…” I say softly, barely able to push his name past my shallow breaths. I whimper for him, and my hips roll into his cock. My eyes roll when I feel him grind against my sweet spot. He speeds up, but not much more.

His other hand cradles my head, and he leans down to kiss me. I see stars, smiling against his mouth, and I feel myself tighten around him, following the rhythm of the waves that threaten to consume me.

“Are you ready to come for me?” Gabe asks, and I nod. He slows down, and I respond with a pout, but he makes sure to drive deeper, grinding against me at the peak of his strokes.

My arms clutch around him, gripping him for dear life. I worry I’m breaking skin, but I know he doesn’t mind one bit. Breathing sharply every time he bottoms out, I can’t believe how tightly I grip him. Whether my pussy is pushing him out or keeping him in, I can’t tell, but either way, he needs to keep going.

A few more strokes force me to cry out, voice coarse, echoing through the empty warehouse. Wave after wave passes through me, tingling my legs. My toes curl my feet, nearly cramping, and I want to curl up into myself. 

His arms wrap around me, and Gabe reminds me to breathe. I exhale sharply, in tune with the tremors in my body. How am I still coming?? It’s not explosive and violent, but closer to a slow rumble, reaching every corner of my body. Clenching my legs together, I feel just how much he’s pulsing inside me, and my legs shake.

The sensations taper down, and I can breathe more easily, but I beg him to keep going. “Gabe…keep fucking me. Hard and fast…”

He nods, helping me down to the couch cushions, and gets to pounding me. Infinitely faster than the strokes from before. Not just hard, but precise. A firm hand presses down on my matted bush, crusty with dried cum, putting pressure on me, and I moan his name. My hands frantically grab at the blue suede of the couch, digging into the fabric, pushing my hips up towards Gabe. 

“Shit, shit,” I cry out as my body bucks wildly, out of control, and my eyes roll back when my back arches off the sofa. I’m shaking, with no way to hold back, and the only thing keeping me grounded is Gabe’s hands on my waist while he fucks me. 

The way Gabe groans, I know he’s close. He puts more vigor behind his strokes, and I know he wants to fill me up from how he nails digs into my skin. Through gritted teeth, he asks me, “Where do you want it?” 

In truth, anywhere will do. I feel amazing already, and to end the night getting railed by my husband makes today successful. My head is still spinning from my climax. I swear I’m telling him what I want, but the strain in his face builds. I tap his stomach, watching him pull out and spray a thick rope stretching from my stomach to my collarbone. Oh, he’s been holding it in for me for sure. 

I rush up to suck him, bobbing my head, and he throbs in my grasp as I stroke the bottom half of his dick. He’s trying to hold it still, and I admire his willpower. I open my mouth wide, flicking my tongue at his frenulum, and he explodes.

Fast spurts spray hit the back of my throat with a distance thud. He pools on my tongue, and I lock my lips around him to suck every last drop up. His hands pull my hair, thrusting deep until my lips kiss his hilt. I swirl my tongue around him, feeling him shrink at last, and he withdraws from my mouth. 

He collapses onto the couch, and his arms around me bring me down with him, hugging me close to him. I giggle, settling on his chest, and I look up at him, moving with the rise and fall of his chest. Panting, he finally gathers enough breath to ask, “Did you have dinner yet?” 

“Does cum count?” I ask, playfully, and he shakes his head, trying not to laugh. 

“I’ll get us some food, and we can start cleaning up the place,” Gabe says, brows wrinkling when I hold him down with me.

“Too comfy,” I say, and I fight the weight of my eyelids. “Can’t you get something that delivers?”

“Not sure what’s even still open,” Gabe says, browsing his phone. “Just trashy, cheap junk food. It’ll hurt your stomach.” 

“My stomach is strong.” I laugh and roll my eyes. “You should’ve seen how much cum I’ve swallowed tonight.”

“Yeah?” Gabe asks playfully, handing me the phone. “Get whatever you want and tell me all about everything I missed. Don’t spare a single detail.” 

I love cum. But because I have a husband who can match my freak, it’s hardly a problem at all. 

Written for image 04 for the June contest! Follow-up for my image 13 piece, but it’s not required reading, unless you’re enjoying Darren and Taylor!

~

Darren perks up when he hears the door open. He hears Taylor’s keys jingle as she hangs them on the hook. She kicks her shoes off, and after a heavy sigh, she calls out, asking, “Do you think we can just get takeout or something? I don’t feel like cooking.”

“Don’t worry about it! I made dinner,” Darren assures, counting the seconds for Taylor to poke her head in. 

Like clockwork, Taylor stands in the alcove, hiding behind the wall. Her eyes curl up in a smile, and her nose wiggles as she takes a whiff. “That smells good. What’s that?”

“One of those viral recipes you sent me,” Darren says, surprised when he’s greeted with a raised eyebrow. “What? Just because you send me like 1 million Reels every day doesn’t mean I don’t watch them. I save everything!” 

She walks up behind Darren, giving him a squeeze before kneeling. Taylor takes a look in the oven, squinting to barely make out something crispy. “Is that another recipe I sent you?”

“That’s actually just Texas Toast, but I have a timer set, so I don’t ruin it like last time,” Darren jokes. 

“Good,” Taylor says jokingly. “Since dinner is taken care of, I think I’m gonna hop in the shower. Did you…want to join?” 

Darren gives his pot a final stir before looking over. “We’ll see. Depends on when everything finishes.”

A kiss on his cheek brings a blush to Darren’s face. The oven's timer goes off, and he hears Taylor walk upstairs. After turning everything off, he follows behind. So far, timing has been perfect, and he smiles to himself, noting the extra pep in his step as he follows the trail of Taylor’s clothes on the ground. 

Darren waits in the hall, waiting for the sound of running water, shower rungs, and footsteps into the tub. He creeps into the bathroom, sneakily clutching Taylor’s pile of clothes, returning to the bedroom to dig for a half-opened package he’d hidden in the closet. He bides his time waiting, not minding that Taylor’s taking her time. 

The water stops, and he hears the shower curtain withdraw.

“Darren? Did you steal my clothes?” Taylor says as she dries herself off. He can hear the smile in her voice.

“You won’t need them right now,” Darren answers when she walks in, holding the towel to her chest.

“Is this a little appetizer before dinner?” she asks with a grin.

Darren smiles back. “Just in case the Texas Toast isn’t enough.”

Taylor drops her towel to her ankles and straddles one of Darren's thighs. She leans in to kiss him. “Something quick, right?”

“Only if you’re starving.” Darren motions to the box on the bed, flipping over a flap, grinning as Taylor tries to peek inside. “I had a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” she asks as her hand wanders down to play with her clit. She shudders when Darren's mouth grazes her neck, kissing her softly, moving up to bite her ear.

“Can you close your eyes?” Darren whispers before placing a sweet kiss on Taylor’s temple.

Taylor resists the temptation to look and keeps her eyes locked shut. She hears the sound of cardboard being carefully opened and plastic blister packaging being ripped apart. Her excitement grows with every sound, only growing when Darren gently cradles her head, eases her down onto the bed, and scoots her up.

“Open your mouth for me,” Darren tells her. His voice is more stern than usual, and Taylor feels a quiver in her folds. She rubs a little harder, and her lips part for him. She sticks out her tongue, anxious for what surprise he has planned for her. She gasps when cold silicone rests against her tongue, and her lips lock around it. There’s the familiar contours of a dick, and this one seems huge.

“What’s this?” she asks curiously with a grin.

Darren chuckles. “This is Mark.”

“Hi, Mark.” Taylor plays along with a grin. She purses her lips, licking them excitedly, and her finger slows, carefully caressing around her clit.

Mark was a placeholder name for when the couple wanted to fantasize. A blank slate to recognize a hypothetical player in their sex life. Sometimes, he was a threat of infidelity, and Darren would reclaim Taylor as she recounted made-up scenarios that happened when Darren was out at work. On days when Darren wasn’t feeling up for sex, Taylor would roll over to her drawer, full of toys, and playfully tell her boyfriend that “Mark” would take care of her needs. Darren would watch at first, but he’d get so riled up that joining was inevitable.

“Do you wanna watch me play with Mark then, baby? I’m happy to do so.” Taylor takes a toy from him, licking along the sides of the shaft, letting the toy glide along her lips. She kisses it softly, opening her eyes to see Darren’s reaction.

He’s mesmerized, moving a hand up to caress her hair, leaning down to kiss her. His lips are so hungry. “I wanna share you today.”

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” Taylor says, eyes crinkling when she smiles, and she cranes up to kiss Darren. “Dinner and a huge dick to play with? You’re so sweet, baby. You wanna see me ride it?”

“I wanna see you suck it,” Darren tells her while his fingers make their way between her slit. He slides right in, and he curls against her sweet spot, petting her rigid walls.

“I don’t know if I can take all of him in my mouth,” Taylor says with a pout. “He’s bigger than you, you know.”

“Mark really wants you,” Darren says, watching her closely, reaching up to gently tug Taylor’s hair. “He’s rough. He’ll push you down. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“God, you’d let Mark fuck your girlfriend's face?” Taylor asks, back arching off the bed to the pace of Darren’s fingers. 

“I wanna see you choke on him,” Darren says with a grin. He pulls Taylor’s hair–a little harder– and helps guide the dildo farther into her throat. The deep noises make him feral, and he kisses Taylor’s neck, biting into it as he eases the toy further down her throat.

After he pulls it out to grant her some reprieve, Taylor gasps, grinning. Her eyes are dizzy, trying to focus on the large toy, and she sticks her tongue out. “I’m such a fucking cock slut.”

Heavy silicone slaps against her cheek, her mouth widens, immediately needy, begging for the tip of the toy.

“You don’t gag on me like this,” Darren says, feigning disappointment. In truth, he doesn’t care. His hardware does the job, and Taylor expresses–on a regular basis–that he’s plenty for her. It’s part of the fantasy. The power play. Taylor can explore a sluttiness that their very, very, very monogamous life prevents, and Darren’s jealousy here is safe and controlled.

That jealousy is just enough to give Darren some extra force behind his pumps, too. He’s a little rougher for Taylor, and she loves it. Watching her suck the sizable dildo excites him as he imagines her mouth on him, but the tightness that clenches his chest watching the way she gags on it, enjoying it, is a very different kind of enjoyment. 

Taylor removes the dildo from her mouth, and spit trails between her lips and the tip. She’s gasping for air, and she trails her tongue along the length of the appendage.

“Do you love sucking Mark off?” Darren asks. 

Taylor nods, and her lips stick out in a pout. Her eyes plead with Darren. “I wanna feel this inside of me. Please, baby, let me fuck him…”

Darren shakes his head. He grabs her face firmly, turning it towards him, and kisses her deeply. He loves how plump her lips feel. It feels a tad shameful that he kisses her more passionately after her lips have been busy, sucking something besides him, but it helps him bulge through his shorts. “Sorry, babe. I don’t want you to do that. You’re mine, remember?”

He works his and boxers off, wiggling out of them, and kneels beside Taylor’s head, angling his cock to her lips. She grips him along the top, kissing and licking the bottom of the shaft before popping into her mouth. He doesn’t stretch her lips quite as wide or reach as far back, but he fills her up plenty, groaning at how good her warm mouth hugs around him. 

Taylor moans around him, sucking and slurping, but pushes him out so she can return her lips to her toy. She loves to suck, and on some days, her oral fixation is stronger than on others. This is one of those days.

Darren watches proudly as Taylor takes more in than before. She’s so careful about her breathing, working through what tears form at the corners of her eyes. He strokes himself, looking down at her with a smile. “My turn, babe. Don’t forget about me”

When she ignores him, waiting just a hair longer than Darren likes, he gives her hair a pull. Her eyes snap towards him, dilating, and he can see the corners of her mouth curl up around the dildo. Darren tugs harder, and that smile is everything. She grabs Darren to suck him off, bobbing her head along his length.

“Well, if you won’t let me, I guess I’ll just have to fuck him while you’re at work,” Taylor taunts him with a smirk. “You’ll get left on read. You won’t hear back from me for hours because Mark’s gonna fuck my brains out.”

Darren grits his teeth, baring them for Taylor.”Oh yeah? Where would you let him put it?”

Taylor strokes him, and her eyes glaze over as she smiles to herself, thinking of a scenario on the spot. “I definitely need him in this pussy. He’s gonna breed me over and over until you get home.”

With a click of his teeth, Darren walks over to their bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube. A generous amount gets squirted along his shaft, and he spreads it along his length. He scowls, moving to kneel between Taylor's spread legs. His fingers swipe along her slit, and Taylor shudders. He grazes past it, much to her disappointment, and two fingers prod into her tight hole. “Dirty sluts get punished.”

“Please,” Taylor begs, gasping again when Darren’s fingers are two knuckles deep. She licks her lips. “Yes, baby. Show me how bad I’ve been.”

Darren slowly retracts his fingers before plunging his dick deep inside her, loving how her ring hugs him. Taylor grabs at the sheets, lifting her hips towards Darren, so eager to take more of him. “I would take your ass while Mark fucks your face.”

“Really?” Taylor asks in delight, smile wide enough to crack the corners of her lips. She lets the toy rest along the length of her face, and Darren can’t help but notice just how far past her chin the toy goes. If she were sucking someone of this size, they wouldn’t just be in her mouth; they’d be in her throat. What a sight it would be to see someone bulging in and out of her neck.

Taylor takes the dildo’s balls into her mouth, sucking and licking them, swirling the tongue along the silicone sack, and she licks along the entire length. Her eyes roll back when Darren fucks her harder, slamming his hips against her ass. “You’re so good to me, baby. You feel so good. I love you so fucking much.”

“Then why do you wanna fuck other guys so badly?” Darren says when his hips don’t let up. He leans in closer, examining even the slightest twitch in Taylor’s expression. Grinning, he prods, “Hmm?”

“Because…” Taylor trails off when Darren’s thumb rubs her clit rapidly. She’s trying to push words out, and the tightening in her core only strengthens. She’s cursing while her body twis. Palms cover her face, and she screams out Darren's name. Whatever answer she had ready fizzles out when her thoughts slip away from how hard she comes.

“Say it,” Darren tells her. He strengthens his resolve, making his voice as stern and curt as possible. He catches that tiny glimpse of a smile on Taylor’s face as she peeks through a gap in her fingers.

“Because I’m a greedy, needy slut,” Taylor tells him, “and you fuck me so much harder, knowing that I’ve been bad. You remind me of why I’m yours after I’ve been ruined.”

“Oh, Taylor,” Darren says with a half smile. He puts a palm on her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “You’re not ruined.”

“Really?” Taylor says, face filled with elation: glimmering eyes, a wide grin, and the strong blush across her cheeks.

“Of course,” Darren assures. His fingers pass over the back of her damn hair, stroking it softly, and he leans down to kiss her forehead. He catches her sitting up to kiss his lips, but he pulls back, grinning. “You’re such a dirty fucking slut, but you know you’re mine, don’t you?”

“Everyone else only borrows my holes. I belong to you, baby. I’m always yours at the end of the day, okay?” She desperately grabs him down for a long kiss, and she melts when his tongue finds its way into her mouth. Shuddering after she breaks the kiss, she whispers against him. “No one treats me like you do, baby.”

Darren fucks her harder, his nails digging into the top of Taylor's thighs. He breaths sharply with every pump, driving, deep, grinning against Taylor’s mouth. He looks at the dildo, long, neglected, grabbing it and tracing the tip along Taylor’s lips. “You’re ignoring our company.”

Taylor doesn’t waste a second shoving it into her mouth, and the gutteral glucks when it slams into her throat makes Darren’s hair stand on end.

“Now that it’s the weekend, I’ll take care of you, babe, okay? You can relax in bed all day, and you can be mine and Mark’s fucktoy. Our free use slut.”

“I get to suck his huge cock all weekend?” Taylor asks in delight.

“You can have him wherever you want,” Darren assures, speaking through labored breaths. “We’re gonna take turns filling you up. A tick mark on your body: one for every load you can take. We won’t let you rest. You’ll be dripping cum, and we’re gonna go until the room is rank.”

Darren's having trouble keeping the pace on Taylor’s clit. He’s so focused on not coming. She moves his hand away, easing him down towards her. She wants his lips to kiss him deeply, and she loses herself when their lips crash, unable to stop yourself from smiling against him. Taylor slides her hands between their bodies, rubbing her clit. Her head lightens the faster she rubs.

“Keep going, baby…just like that. I’m gonna come for you…” Taylor groans.

“Your ass is squeezing me so tight,” Darren says through gritted teeth.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours,” Taylor chants frantically. Her free hand claws at Darren‘s back, pulling him down towards her, traveling up to the back of his neck to hold his head against her. She kisses him deeply, shoving her tongue past his lips. Her body quakes beneath him as he bottoms out one last time, throbbing and pulsing, filling her ass deep as another climax crashes over her.

Taylor wraps both of her arms around Darren after he slows down. He does the same, gradually letting more of his body weight rest on top of her. She loves this; he’s like the perfect weighted blanket, and it calms the heightened nerves as a few deep breaths escape. They stare into each other’s eyes, and a long kiss leaves them with a shared smile.

Darren winces, easing himself out slowly, and Taylor gasps when he pops out of her hole. He looks at how her ass puckers as cum drips out. Rolling Taylor onto her stomach, she kicks her feet playfully when Darren walks away.

“Are you putting the first mark of the weekend?” she jokes, looking back at him.

Darren shakes his head. Cold spurts of lotion land on Taylor’s back, and she shivers, giggling. He spreads it along her skin, and his thumbs knead against her usual knots. “You didn’t moisturize after a shower.”

Taylor hums, contentedly melting into the sheets as her body loosens. She could fall asleep like this if she wasn’t a bit peckish. “Who taught you to dirty talk like this?”

“I read a few of the books I’ve gotten you,” Darren says. “Intense stuff.”

“You still love me?”

“Absolutely,” Darren says, without a second of hesitation.

“How much do you love me?” Taylor starts, flashing an innocent grin.

“Uh oh,” Darren says with a chuckle. “What are you gonna ask for?”

“When you said I could stay in bed all weekend, was that just dirty talk? That does sound kinda nice.”

“Are you gonna ask for dinner in bed?”

“Doesn’t that sound awesome? Cuddled in the sheets? No clothes. And we get to pig out tonight until we pass out. Maybe a round of sex if we wake up for a midnight snack?”

Darren doesn’t need much more convincing. He stands and gives her a wink. “I’ll bring our food up. Pick something to watch.”

He fixes a plate for them downstairs, filling a tray with two hefty bowls of pasta, a few slices of Texas Toast, and some water. Shuffling back upstairs, he put the tray in front of Taylor, who’s laser-focused on picking a movie to watch. She settles on something steamy, and she grins when she sees her food. She helps herself to a few bites, and Darren shovels his mouth full of food after he worked up an appetite.

“That’s pretty good,” she says.

“Right,” Darren agrees, “viral for a reason.”

They eat in silence mostly while the movie bumpers blare. Taylor watches contentedly, and Darren rests a hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently. 

“Hey, the bit where you were talking about cheating while I was at work–”

“Mark?” She laughs, staring at the dildo on the floor. She looks at Darren, and her smile fades when his face is more somber than she’d expected. “That was probably a bit much. I’m sorry, baby. You know I don’t mean it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Darren assures. “Is that something you’d be interested in? Sleeping with other men?”

“Darren, I don’t need that!” Taylor says with a smile. She crunches into her toast, buying her some time as her eyebrows furrow.

“I’m not asking if you need it,” Darren says. “I’m asking if it’s something you want to try.”

“It sounds hot on paper,” Taylor starts, “but it feels daunting. Trying to find someone and vetting through different options. You never know with people these days. In all honesty, I’d feel better if you were there too.”

“Closer to a threesome of some kind?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Taylor says, picking at a noodle, moving it around on the plate. “Didn’t strike me as something you’d be comfortable with.”

“I’ve warmed up to the idea,” Darren tells her. “Someone…even comes to mind.”

“Do I know him?” Taylor asks, attention split between the TV and Darren. 

“Kind of. You tend to forget his name, though,” Darren says, laughing when Taylor looks over confusedly. “Uh, Marcus from sales.”

A laugh bursts out of Taylor, and food flies back into her bowl. “Are you joking?” 

“He’s a little down on his luck lately. Struggling at work, recent breakup, just coming up from a flu. He could really use a win,” Darren explains. He swirls pasta around his fork as his eyes flit up towards Taylor. “And I know just the woman who can show him a good time.” 

“Is he hung?” 

“I can’t say I’ve seen my coworker’s dick, so I don’t know.” Darren tries not to laugh. “I could float the idea to him on Monday. What do you say?”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Little soon, don’t you think?” Darren jokes. 

“Sorry.” 

“How about I ask him if he’s free tomorrow? Compromise?”

“Compromise,” Taylor agrees. She wipes her mouth, putting her bowl on the tray with Darren’s when he hands it to her with a grin. After setting their dishes aside (Darren would take care of them later; he never gives her a chance to), she finds a place on his chest, resting her head, smiling when she feels his fingers comb through her hair.  “Darren?”

“Yes?”

“You’re sure that’d be okay?” Taylor asks. Her eyes trail from the TV to a growing hardness between Darren’s legs. After glancing at him, her hand reaches down to play with him. Nothing charged. Just fiddling. Caressing. Feeling it twitch at her touch.

Darren smooths her hair and kisses the top of her head. “You said earlier that at the end of the day, you’re all mine, didn’t you? Or was that just a part of dirty talk?” 

Taylor takes her hand off him and turns to face Darren, curling up as his arms wrap around her. She nuzzles into him before leaning up to kiss him. “Of course I meant it.” 

“Then I have nothing to worry about,” Darren tells her, silenced by another kiss. He watches Taylor scoot down to his waist, wrap her hand around his dick, and kiss his tip. After a smile, he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Dinner was great,” Taylor says, tucking hair behind her ear before swallowing Darren up. Her hand strokes him while she licks up his shaft, and she smiles before placing a sweet kiss on his tip. “I want dessert now.” 

Art from badeyart

Part 3 to the Haley/Nate Series! Context is summed up early in this piece, so the other parts can technically be skipped, but the other parts can be found here: Part 1 | Part 2

~ 

Haley has always been a funny girl to Nate. In one of those awkward required ice-breaking dorm events at the beginning of freshman year, they were in the same group. Contrasting the bright pink hair that made her look like someone with a Main Character Complex, she was so shy. 

And awkward in an endearing way. 

She stayed off to the side, drinking mocktails while talking and laughing with her roommate, Saruna. Nate mustered all the courage he could and walked up to them. A poorly delivered joke fell flat, but Haley laughed anyway, covering her mouth when a snort slipped out. Immediately, Nate knew the two girls would be fun people to hang out with.

Freshman year, he spent more time in their room than he’d like to admit. Saruna loved to cook, so Family Dinner, as they called it, became a tradition on Friday nights, since their schedules all aligned.

That wasn’t so much the case sophomore year, especially since the course loads got heavier. He still made a point to see them, but it would usually be shorter visits. Accidentally staring at Haley for too long always netted trouble; Saruna was bound to tease him, thankfully at a whisper's level, “You’re not subtle.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’d deflect every time. 

“You're lucky Haley is a bit of a ditz,” Saruna joked. 

“She's not dumb!” Nate said indignantly, “Just not tech-savvy.” 

Which is why Nate didn’t think twice when she came to him for advice on some kind of recording setup. He was flattered more than anything. One could only imagine his surprise when he pressed play for the first time to hear her moaning. 

He must’ve turned bright red, and he didn’t know what to think. To Nate, Haley was one of the prettiest girls he knew, and to know she had pretty moans to match left him with feelings he didn't know what to do with. When Haley explained an interest in dabbling in erotic audio, it dawned on him: 

She was doing this so others could hear her, and he was one of the [lucky] first few to get a preview of things to come. 

It took Nate everything to remind himself that Haley asked about technical quality of the recordings. To keep his thoughts as chaste as possible, he hyperfocused on finding a good workflow so she could get the best fidelity without spending a dime. 

While a little intimidated by the new process, Haley seemed excited about it. She was a fast learner, too. Hours passed, and Nate found himself dozing off next to her while she edited. 

Haley retired to her own room before it got too late, and Nate walked her out. Maybe it was his half-asleep thoughts, but he really didn't think she had to leave. He had extra blankets, and if she wasn't a fan of the couch, Nate would've easily lent his bed to her. 

The final cut was sent to Nate the next morning, and again, he had to remind himself that Haley asked about how it sounded, and not how it made him feel. He put on some headphones and listened to it. He was impressed by how much of an improvement it was over the first clip she showed him.

He listened to the new recording a…few times. Nate wanted to be sure he didn't miss anything. Yeah. That's what he told himself. Apparently, he has taken longer than intended, and when Haley joked, asking if he had jerked off to it, Nate had to play cool over text because admittedly:

He did. 

Haley's Voice was so sweet in his ears. After closing his eyes, it was really so easy to imagine that she was right next to him. The embarrassment of how hard he got faded when he felt the need to touch himself. 

He closed his eyes, focused on the sound of Haley's voice. He stroked himself to the tempo of her breath. Nate so wished he was the one to make her feel like that. His own breathing hitched, and he pushed his hair back, moaning to match Haley’s cadence. He thrusted his hips into his closed fist, and when he spilled over at last, he groaned, crying out, leaking all over himself.

He thought that would be the end of it all. His job was done. Still. Later that night, temptation brought him back to the recording, and he listened to it. Again. It was the sweetest way to fall asleep (albeit messy).

Weeks later, Haley was ranting in his living room. She was crunching costs for the cheapest way to soundproof her room, but Nate told her not to waste her money, offering his own setup, which would be fine enough for her needs.

With glimmering eyes, Haley learned how to use it, and before Nate could walk away to give her privacy, she had him stay next to her. One thing led to another, and they kissed each other for the first time.

To take things even further, Nate exceeded his own expectations, offering to finger Haley, who accepted eagerly. Her moans were better in person. Nate wondered if it was all a performance, but Haley assured him that it wasn’t (which was a huge boost to his confidence).

Nate had fun, and truthfully, he’d want to do more of this with Haley, but there were some hang-ups he had to address first. There were a few times in the past week that she came by to record, but Nate didn’t join her this time around, instead opting to do some homework. Haley seemed disappointed, but Nate figured he was projecting more than anything.

It was getting to a point where they couldn’t ignore it any longer. He had to say something, but where should he start?

~ 

Nate sits in Haley and Saruna’s living room, beating himself up repeatedly in his head. When he took that picture earlier with his abs showing, clutching his bulge, what the hell was he thinking? What was that supposed to accomplish, and why—of all people—did it have to be sent to Haley‘s roommate?

In an attempt to clear things up, he came to the room at Saruna’s request, but he dreads what sort of solution she has in mind. Nate worries Saruna would request some sort of sexual favor exchange for her deleting the photo and never mentioning it to Haley, and he grimaces at the thought.

When he hears footsteps, his head jerks up. Relief lifts the weight on his shoulders when he sees Haley instead of Saruna, but that presents a new problem on its own. Nate offers the best smile he can. “Haley. Hey.”

“Hey,” Haley offers with crossed arms. “What brings you here? It’s late, isn’t it?” 

“I was…” Nate chews on the inside of his cheek. It’d be so easy to lie. He would never have to mention the picture. It was a mistake, after all. He sighs; that wouldn’t be right. “Actually, I came here to talk to Saruna.”

“Weird,” Haley murmurs. “She just stepped out. Not sure when she’ll be back. Can it wait?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know if I can,” Nate says. He massages his temple and tries to smooth the wrinkles in his forehead. “It’s…complicated. I sent her a picture, um…the kind that you don’t really send to someone who’s…just a friend?”

“Oh,” Haley responds, flashing her brows, and she looks away, pursing her lips. Shrugging her shoulders and letting out a sharp sigh, she continues, “I…didn’t know you thought of her that way.”

“I don’t! It was a mistake,” Nate insists. “I…actually meant to send it to you.”

Haley chokes on her spit, looking at Nate with widened eyes. “Why me?”

“I…was, er, thinking about you earlier, and part of me just wanted to show you, but I know now that that’s probably not the way I should’ve communicated that.” 

Haley breathes sharply. “I have to admit things have been a little different between us recently. I can’t really put my finger on it. Wanna tell me what’s up? Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? No, why would you—“

“Is it about what happened last week in your room? Did it actually make you uncomfortable?” Haley suggests.

“No! That was actually really nice, and I wondered if I was too forward by offering to finger you.” Nate smiles nervously. 

“I liked it a lot, Nate. It felt really good, and I was kind of excited to do more with you, but when I offered, you kind of avoided it, and I felt a little rejected. I thought that maybe I was the one who overstepped,” Haley admits.

“It’s not that you did anything wrong. If anything, I was kind of happy that you offered,” Nate pushes his hair back and takes a deep breath. His palms cover his face, and he speaks too quietly for Haley to know what he’s saying.

Haley walks closer with furrowed brows, and she takes a seat next to Nate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch any of that last part. Could you repeat it?”

“I came in my pants,” he admits, and the silence that follows turns him a deep shade of red. His face is burning up, and he can’t bear to look Haley in the face.

“You came in your pants from fingering me?” Haley asks him in disbelief.

“Please don’t laugh at me,” Nate says, trying to laugh, shielding his eyes with a hand. “Hearing you moan in person was just so much better than the recordings, and knowing that I was the one who made you sound like that? I just couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry if it felt like I was rushing to get you out of the room, but I was just so embarrassed.”

“Nate, can I ask you a question?”

“That depends on what it is,” he hesitates, keeping his guard up. 

“Are you…a virgin?” Haley asks abruptly. 

Nate tries not to stammer too much, but his shoulders slouch, and he sighs before nodding. “Yeah, I am. That was kind of the first time I’ve ever done anything like that.” 

“You should’ve said something,” Haley says, with the tiniest downward turn to her lips. 

“And before you say anything else, it’s not like I did anything I didn’t want to. If I’m gonna be honest with myself, you’re literally one of the best friends I’ve made since coming here,” Nate says with a smile. “I think when you sent that recording, wires got crossed, and I started thinking of you in…other ways. You used to be just Haley, but I’d really like it if we could be more than that.”

“Nate,” Haley starts, speaking slowly. “Are you saying…”

“I like you. Like, a lot. I like spending time with you, and whenever you leave, I get a little sad. I don’t even let my door close until I’m sure that you’re not gonna ask to hang out a little longer,” Nate spills. 

He dares to look up at Haley, who blinks slowly at nothing. His hand twitches, reaching out to her, but he loses heart, and his hand falls on the cushion between them. A few feet might as well be a mile. “Haley? Say something.”

She stares at her fingers while she fiddles with them. In the few times she peeks up at Nate, both of their eyes dart away. The look on her face doesn’t bode well. By the time anything intelligible slips out, it’s only a single word:  “Shit.”

“Shit,” he responds. Nate forces a half-hearted smile, but he feels his heart in the pit of his stomach. “I just fucked everything up, didn’t I?”

He wants to recoil away, snap his hand back to his lap, but regret petrifies him in place. Every breath stretches on, and each second that passes feels like an eternity. Before he can pull himself to his feet, a hand on his keeps him in place.

“You didn’t,” Haley says. Her grip on his hand tightens, and her free hand covers her face, not doing much to hide that slight blush. “After you fingered me—“

“Which I said was okay,” Nate reminds her.

“I know, but when I told you that you weren’t actually my crush and that I was just saying it…“ Haley bites her lip. She moves slowly, making her way onto Nate’s lap. Her every breath is shallow, and she rests her forehead against his temple. “…I should’ve been more honest.”

“So you mean,” Nate starts. One of his hands finds Haley’s waist and he pulls her closer. His head turns, and he looks into her eyes. “You have a crush on me?”

Haley flashes an unsure smile, but her eyes begin to glimmer with hope. She blushes, and her hand rests on Nate's nape. “A big, fat stupid crush, Nate.”

He laughs, and his arms wrap around her. The corners of his lips twitch. “Why lie, then?”

“I thought you would find my feelings troublesome,” Haley suggests, looking away. The pink of her cheeks complements her hair perfectly, and it’s the cutest thing ever. “The few guys I’ve hooked up with here weren’t really interested in relationship stuff.”

“So am I just like other guys to you?” Nate jokes.

Haley shakes her head. “Of course not! But that’s why I needed to be sure that I didn’t mess things up. At least with other guys, I could fool around until we decided to go our separate ways, but you’re one of my best friends. And I think if I lost that, I wouldn’t know who to bother instead.”

“As if you’re a bother,” Nate assures her as he leans closer, pressing the tip of his nose against hers. The smile on her face is the cutest he’s seen. 

Haley‘s eyes curl up with happiness, and she crinkles her nose as she wipes her eyes dry. “I really wanna kiss you. I've been wanting to kiss you again since last week.”

“As your content partner? Or as your boyfriend?”

“If it’s not too late, I’d like it to be the latter,” Haley grins nervously. She melts when his hands cradle her head, and her lips part when she feels his breath on her mouth.

“I’m okay with being both, you know,” Nate says before he finally presses his lips against her again. A long kiss brings nothing but happy memories. He thinks of the countless times he beat himself up for not being able to ask her out, and he wishes he had been more confident in himself earlier.

Their lips break apart to steal a breath, only for the pair to pull each other back in. Nate wants this—he has for a while—and from the way Haley kisses back, she feels the same. Soft pecks grow longer. More heated. Nate moans against her mouth, shuddering when teeth gently bite his bottom lip.

Nate's hands wander down to Haley‘s waist. When she raises her arms to wrap around his neck, Nate's hands rest on her exposed waist, tracing the elastic of her shorts. He stares up at her, mesmerized by the look in her eyes. “How long do we have until Saruna comes back?”

“She said I could text her when it was safe to come in, but—” Haley's words cut out when she feels the swipe of Nate's fingers against the front of her shorts. After a hitched breath, she says, “I don’t think we should leave her waiting for too long.”

“I won't need long,” Nate says. He bites his lip and leans closer to kiss Haley’s neck. His words tickle against her skin. “Especially if it’s anything like last time.”

“Shut up,” Haley says, rolling her eyes, but she nods, and Nate can’t sneak his hand under her pants fast enough. Her hips roll, grinding against his lap, and her lips hang open, letting a groan slip out when his fingers part her slit. Not ready to throw in the towel just yet, Haley rubs his crotch. “Are you really one to talk?”

Nate’s grin disappears when he groans, feeling Haley‘s palm travel up his shaft. The saving grace of the few layers of clothes between them is that they dull the sensation. He humps against her hand, putting all of his effort into the curl of his fingers. Feeling the inside of her walls, he focuses on the rigid spot from before: the spot she loves. 

Sweet, muffled moans fill the room. They’re the most reserved Nate has ever heard from Haley, not that he’s heard them terribly often, but he’s heard enough to know that she’s holding back. His fingers speed up, and he grins when her hand stops, instead focusing on wrapping around the bulge in his pants

“Please don’t hold back,” He whispers against her neck before kissing it softly. “I love the way your moans sound.”

Haley has a cheeky comeback, but it fades away, interrupted by a shudder when she feels his kisses travel up to just below your ear. She moans when his breath tickles, and her thighs clench, locking his hand between her legs. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Are you close?” Nate asks, knowing the answer from the way she trembles in his grasp.

“N-no,” Haley lies, but a whimper gives her away. She curses through gritted teeth. 

“Come for me,” Nate begs, staring up at her before peppering her with kisses. “I love the way you moan when you’re coming for me.”

“I can’t help it,” Haley whines, grinning before her face twists. Her grasp on him tightens, and her nails dig in, scratching him through his shirt, gripping at the fabric. “Nate–”

“Come on. I know you can do it.” Nate stares at the way Haley‘s lips part. His heart pounds hard, synchronizing with Haley’s shallow breaths. He whimpers as her hand slides along his crotch.

Haley loses control, grinding and rolling on top of Nate’s lap. Flurries of hurried breaths escape before she runs her fingers through his curls to take Nate’s face and pull him in for a kiss. There’s desperation every time their mouths meet, and she nibbles at his bottom lip, tugging it needily.

She trembles after burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. When her body calms, Haley sits up slowly, blinking as she stares at nothing in particular. “Wow.”

“Good?”

“You’re lucky Saruna took a walk just now. I’d be modified if she caught us.”

“I bet that made it hotter,” Nate suggests before tilting his head. “That’s a thing, right?”

Haley uses a hand to hide her shaky smile, and she looks away in an attempt to hide the fluttering in her chest. She can barely look at the boy. “I have a question.”

“Anything. What is it?”

Haley pets his hair, smoothing it back before his bangs fall to frame his face. She leans in closer to kiss his forehead. “Wanna take this…to your room? I’d love to return the favor–if you let me, that is–”

Nate stands up first, walking her towards the door, and Haley barely has time to slip on her sneakers before they leave.

~

Haley sends a quick message to Saruna while she and Nate wait for an elevator:

Thank you so so so much omg 😭♥️

Saruna is quick to reply: 

Am I the best roommate or what? (◕‿◕✿)

The very best 💯

I deserve details (¬‿¬)

Later!!! I’m about to get cracked 🤭🤪😝

Oh I definitely deserve details (⸝⸝˃ ་། ˂⸝）

“Who are you texting?” Nate asks, curiously peeking over Haley’s shoulders.

Haley quickly turns your phone screen away from her boyfriend. She’s squealing on the inside, unbelievably happy that she was able to clear things up with Nate. “Just Saruna.” 

“I'm sure she'll be thrilled,” Nate says with a laugh.

“You have no idea,” Haley says, shoving her phone in her pocket. Her smile fades into a grimace when the elevator doors open, and it’s filled with people. She waves her hand towards the packed people and offers a polite smile. “We’ll get the next one.”

They wait in silence, save for the hum of the HVAC and the distant dings of the elevator. She smiles when Nate grabs her hand. “Maybe we can just take the stairs?”

“You must really want it bad,” Nate jokes as Haley tugs him towards the stairwell.

Haley puffs her cheeks out in a pout when she looks back towards him. “It shows just how much I like you! Who else is gonna climb stairs after you make them come? My legs are still shaking!” 

“We could’ve waited for the elevator,” Nate shoots back with a smug grin.

“I can’t wait!” Haley says, breath labored from exertion. Her grip tightens on Nate.

In no time, he’s leading her instead of the opposite, with how much larger his strides are. He opens the door to his floor, and Haley playfully pushes him off his path when she bumps him with her shoulder, staring up at him with the widest smile. There’s the tiniest bit of nervousness in his crooked grin, further exemplified by the way his key keeps missing the lock.

Haley doesn’t even leave time for Nate to turn on the lights before she pulls him down for a kiss. In complete darkness, she can tell he’s smiling from the way his mouth presses against her. The sentiment is shared. She’s over the moon. Her breath hitches, and she pulls away, licking her lips. “Sorry, I just need a quick breather. I’m still a little winded from the stairs.”

“All good,” Nate assures. “I’m in no hurry.”

“Speaking of, I know it was my idea to come up here,” Haley starts nervously, “but we don’t have to do anything too fast.”

Silence settles between the two. Nate laughs lightly. “Don’t you like the idea of an audio titled, Taking My Boyfriend’s First Time?”

“Nate, I’m serious,” Haley says, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. She hikes it up to feel his waist, enjoying the way he shudders at her touch. “You’re more to me than content. You’re my boyfriend now, and I want things to be special.”

“It will be,” he tells her. “It’ll be with you, after all. Unless you don't want to.”

“I do!” Haley tells him. “I just…don’t want to rush you into anything.”

“Haley, I’ve been mustering up the courage to tell you how I feel since freshman year. With this pace, we might be able to hit third base by senior year,” Nate jokes. 

“Is that too long?” Haley teases.

“The issue is that I want you right now,” Nate admits, picking her up with ease, supporting her below her rear.

Haley wraps her legs around him tightly, fumbling with his belt and kissing him before responding, “I can arrange that.”

Nate carries her into his room, not bothering with shutting the door. He kneels after lowering Haley onto the bed, and his fingers hook at the elastic of her bottoms.

“Hey,” Haley complains. “I thought we were doing this the other way around. You already got me downstairs.”

“Tell me no, then,” Nate challenges, but Haley doesn’t dare, grinning as he slides her shorts and panties down. His jaw drops, and his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of her bush. Biting his lip, he leans in, pressing them softly against her thigh.

“I didn’t shave,” Haley whines. As if she knew they were going to have their heart-to-heart earlier. She tenses as each kiss travels higher. “And I don’t know. No one’s really offered to do that before.”

“Can I try, then?” He kisses the inside of her thighs, letting his lips trail higher up with each press of his lips against soft skin.

“Are you just trying to do a little of everything?” Haley teases. “Or do you just not wanna come too quickly when you finally get to put it in?”

“Both things can be true at once,” Nate says with a smile. His thumb moves coarse hair out of the way, and he leans in. He licks slowly along the length of her slit. “God, you taste so good.”

Haley loves his hair. That fluffy blonde mop is perfect for grabbing onto, pulling him closer to her so she can grind against his face. She loves how soft his lips are. So gentle against her, whether it’s her upper or lower lips. She loves the way he holds her: one hand coiled around her thigh, digging into her flesh, while the other eases into her slit to stimulate what he’s already familiar with. She loves the way he moans for her. She loves him.

The speed of his tongue picks up to follow the tempo of her moans. It’s involuntary, and she can’t help it. She feels much better, knowing that she won’t disturb Saruna here. Haley doesn't have to hold back, and Nate told her downstairs how much he loves her sounds.. 

A sharper moan escapes when his tongue finds her swollen clit. He learns fast, probably thinking of last week, when she rubbed herself in front of him. Careful laps pass over her bud. Her hips roll, quickening to his pace. She feels so needy.

The slow curl of his fingers brings her closer to release, but when they speed up, every breath is short, barely passing enough air to her head. All she can think of is how good he feels and just how badly she wants him.

Strain weaves its way into every moan. Every elongated breath comes from deep in her diaphragm. Haley’s head turns, back and forth, nuzzling against Nate’s sheets. She can smell him on the fabric. She imagines his fingers are his dick instead, and her eyes shoot open, silently, pleading for him.

He’s too focused on her pleasure. His eyes are closed, and she feels his warm breath against her skin with every sharp exhale when he happens to pop up for air. He’s moaning. From the way he tightens his grasp, it’s hard to say who wants the other person more. His fingers press against Haley’s sweet spot.

Haley tries to pry her legs open; the last thing she wants to do is crush Nate’s head. He holds her leg to the side of his face, easing off her clit to kiss the inside of her thigh. It doesn’t linger there for long before he goes back to sucking and licking her.

She tightens around his finger, and her grip on his hair tightens as she grinds against his face. Toes curl. Her heels dig into the bed as she pushes up. Every press of her mouth against his face shoots a pulsing wave to her core. Haley quivers, belting out praise for Nate.

With every moan, Nate adds more fervor behind his tongue and fingers. He’s intent on not letting up until he leaves Haley a whimpering mess.

And she is, practically pushing him off of her to kiss him so that she has a chance to breathe. After a deep sigh, Haley waits for the stars to fade before telling him, “Please tell me you have a condom.”

Nate springs to his feet, walking over to his top drawer. He digs through socks, tossing them on the ground, pulling out a foil wrapper. Holding it up proudly, he says, “Courtesy of the Student Health Office.”

Haley stands behind him quickly, removing his belt and undoing his pants, sliding them down. She takes a grasp of his ass. It’s plumper than she thinks; his baggy jeans hide it well. Her other hand wraps around him to stroke him, and her thumb trails over his tip, spreading pre-cum over his tip. “God, you’re leaking already. Turn around and face me.”

Nate does as told, and Haley kneels in front of him, taking him until he hits the back of her throat. She powers through gags. Her eagerness gets the better of her.

“Fuck,” Haley says. “This is gonna feel so nice inside of me.”

Nate kicks his pants and boxers off, and Haley leads him to the bed. He stands idly, waiting for some guidance, but Haley playfully pushes him onto the bed.

She straddles him, leaning down to kiss him, and smiles as she snags the wrapper from him to tear the corner off. “You’ve been so generous already, so it’s only fair that I treat you.”

The way he looks at her stirs her insides. There’s a blooming in her chest, but also a heat that grows in her stomach again despite just having finished all over him earlier. Haley licks her lips, pinching the tip of the condom before rolling it down his length as it throbs in her hand.

Haley lifts up, and her hand on his shaft helps guide him to her entrance before she lowers yourself. They groan together, and Nate’s hands on the top of her thighs help to ease her down. She smiles at him, leaning down to fluff his hair. “Nice and slow, okay? We don’t have to rush.

Nate sits up to wrap his arms around her. His lips find the space between her breasts, and he looks up. Warmth fills his eyes, and that smile is so genuine. His hands tremble against her skin as he pushes her shirt off, and she removes his. 

Skin against skin, Haley feels her nipples harden against Nate. They rock together, and Nate‘s hardness pushes against her sweet spot. He kisses her collarbone softly. “Does it feel good for you?”

“Stop worrying about me,” Haley jokes.

Nate’s hands travel up Haley‘s back, resting on her shoulders to pull her down onto him. God, he’s in so deep. He’s pushing exactly where he needs to. Haley grips him while moans slip past her lips to the rhythm of their hips. 

“Fuck.” Haley carefully places her feet on the bed, moving her hips back and forth to set the tempo. Nate matches it easily, pressing up deep at the peak of every movement. Haley’s moans drone on, quickening the longer they go. She wraps her arms around Nate, letting them rest on his shoulders as her body rolls against him. “Oh my God, Nate.”

Nate is barely hanging on by a thread, practically gasping for air. He forces a smile, but the strain on his face is apparent. A hand rubs against Haley’s back, soothing her softly, and his voice matches his gentle touch. “Are you gonna come soon for me?”

“I’m so close,” Haley mumbles, head spinning. She holds him tightly, shuddering when she feels him twitch inside her. “Just last a little longer…I’m so sorry. I’m so selfish. It just feels so good.”

One of Nate’s hands moves up to cradle her head, and he eases her down flat against his body as he lies back against the bed. His arms hold her still, and he thrusts up into her.

“Harder,” Haley begs, crying out when his hips slam into her. All she can think of is how good his cock feels. He’s pushing against the same spot–over and over–and Haley’s lips part in pleasure. She spills over with a sharp gasp.

Nate’s arms tighten around her. He speeds up, going as hard as he can. They curse together, writhing against each other. Nate's lips press against Haley‘s. They melt into the kiss, grinding against into other until their bodies have to slow. Needy, hurried breaths taper into contented pants.

Haley’s first to speak, joking with him, “You lasted longer than I thought.”

Nate laughs. “I was thinking the same thing. I thought it was toast as soon as you started sucking me.”

She dismounts him, sitting up to stretch, and Nate removes the condom, tying a knot and tossing it into his trashcan. He raises a brow when he sees Haley put her clothes back on. Trying not to frown, he asks, “Going so soon?”

“Guys usually don’t want me sticking around, so I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You always have a place here, Haley,” Nate assures. “Plus, you’re not just some hookup. We’re a couple now, aren’t we?”

Haley smiles, walking over to hug his head and kiss his cheek. “Of course. Trust me, I want to, but I don’t know how much sleep we’ll get if I stay over.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad if you ask me.” Nate scratches the back of his head. “We could create such a backlog of content for you to post later.”

Another kiss on the forehead and a sweet smile tell him he’s being too eager, and he stands down. Haley tells him, “Plenty of time for that later.” 

She makes sure she has her phone and walks out of his bedroom, giggling when she hears Nate jump into his pants to catch up.

“I’ll walk you,” he insists, smiling.

“I’m just downstairs, Nate,” Haley tells him with a smile.

“I know that, but if you’re not gonna stay over, I want as much time with you as I can get,” Nate says. It’s sweet, and Haley knows better than to protest further. Haley’s so used to leaving this room and having him wait at the door, but it’s a nice change of pace for him to join her on the walk back. She also can’t help but smile when she feels Nate‘s fingers weave into hers.

Even in the elevator ride, Nate holds her tight around her waist, kissing the top of her head. It feels like he’s cherishing the moment, in case he’ll wake up from a sweet dream, and she shares the sentiment. Thankfully, this is real. The dense boy she’s liked for ages feels the same way, and she can’t be happier. 

In the walk to her room, they share looks and smiles, giggling to each other, too happy to say anything meaningful. It isn’t until they reach Haley’s door that she realizes she forgot her key in her haste to rush out the door earlier.

After a few missed calls to Saruna, she texts her roommate frantically:

Can you open the door? 😅

I forgot my key 😭🥲

Sorry I can’t. I’m soooo sleepy ᶻ𝘇 𐰁 (っ. -｡)

Go get your man ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

Haley nervously looks over at Nate. “Is that offer to stay over still good?”

Nate offers a big grin. “Of course. As the guest of honor, you get first dibs on the bed or the couch.”

After prodding his chest playfully, Haley looks up with a fresh fire in her eyes. “I call the bed, but you better not think for a second that you’re not joining me there.” 

“You trying to keep me up all night?” Nate asks with a shaky grin.

“Only if you think you can keep up!” 

Written for image 05 for the June contest! 

Follow up to my prompt 01 piece but is not required reading unless you’re particularly interested in Haley and Nate!

~

Saruna tries to be a good roommate. 

Her roommate Haley, has taken up some…interesting hobbies. After a night of hearing moans through paper-thin walls, Saruna had to ask what was up over breakfast. Haley abashedly confessed an interest in posting erotic audio to the internet–completely anonymous, of course. Saruna could respect the hustle; having a creative outlet was a good idea. They came to a mutual agreement: Haley could record her content when Saruna was out (or if she could at least keep the excessive moaning to a minimum). 

The door opens, and Haley walks in, plopping facedown on the couch. 

“Long day?” Saruna asks, scraping ground beef off the bottom of her pot and peering over at her friend. “How was class?”

“Class was fine,” Haley says, muffled into a pillow. She turns her head. “My presentation actually went well.” 

“Didn’t sweat buckets this time?”

“Nope. Thank goodness.” Haley laughs.

Saruna laughs, and the sizzling in the pan ceases when she pours in the tomato sauce. “I bet your followers would be so surprised that the girl they jerk off to is one of the most introverted people on the planet.” 

“Girl, it’s different!” Haley grins.

“I know. Just giving you shit. Speaking of, you’re not at your boytoy’s room right now,” Saruna starts, peering over towards Haley while giving her pot a stir. “Everything okay with you two?”

“Nate’s not my boytoy!” Haley grumbles, turning her face into the pillow to hide the redness in her face. 

“What is he, then?” Saruna asks. “A friend? Or….?

“I don’t know!” Haley yells into the pillow, kicking her feet against the cushions. “I don’t get him at all.”

“Last I checked, I thought things were okay. He’s letting you record at his place with his fancy, high-tech setup—which helps me get the best sleep of my life, by the way.  Actually, next time he's over, I’m gonna have to thank him next time he’s over—better idea: you should invite him for dinner, actually. I made plenty.”

“I don’t know if he’d come,” Haley says, turning over and frowning at the ceiling. “Things have been a little strange.”

“Didn’t he finger blast you the first time you recorded in his room? Sounds like it went pretty well to me.”

“Yeah, but when I tried to reciprocate, he got all awkward.”

“Well, you’ve been going back pretty often. I feel like you see him more than you see me, and we live with each other,” Saruna jokes. “You’re telling me you haven’t asked him what’s wrong?”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Start with ‘Why won’t you let me suck your dick?’”

“No way! I think I made things weird. do you think it was too forward by having him watch me masturbate?”

“Maybe it was when you sent him a voice recording of you getting off on a random Saturday morning?” Saruna suggest, turning away to hold back a bout of laughter. “But didn’t he say he was okay after the fact? It’s not like you forced him to do anything.”

“Yeah, he should be excited that he got to finger a hot girl! Why doesn’t he want more?”

“Okay, girl, maybe let’s not get too big of a head, now.”  Saruna digs through the spice cabinet and sprinkles in what the sauce might need. “What if…he just doesn’t see you that way? I guess, ultimately, what do you want from him? Are you just looking for a good lay?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Haley says. She gets up and walks over to the kitchen, leaning against the countertop.

“I recommend finding out what you want, because if you don’t know what you want, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna make any progress with this boy,” Saruna says sternly. She puts her hands on Haley‘s back, giving her a rub and Haley flashes a smile. 

Haley looks vaguely reassured, and she opens her mouth when she’s offered the spoon to taste the sauce. “Oh, that’s good. Maybe some red pepper flakes though?”

“Ooh, good call,” Saruna says, “but I’m sure you two will figure it out. Maybe stop by his room after dinner? He's like, never unhappy to see you.” 

“Maybe tomorrow…”

“You're gonna say that tomorrow, and then the day after, and then the next thing you know, he's a Katy Perry single from the early 2010s!”

Haley squints as she thinks. “Thinking Of You?”

“No! The One That Got Away!”

~

Dinner was a success. Haley chickened out and didn’t extend the invitation to Nate, but Saruna assumed that'd be the case. The two roommates got to watch a new romcom, and of course, Haley got in her feelings. She washed the dishes to distract herself and headed off to her room.

“Can you have Nate send me a link to a good pair of noise canceling headphones?” Saruna teases. “I think I might need them tonight.”

Haley turns red in the face, and stomps off with balled fists. “I’m not recording tonight!”

Saruna turns off the TV and the lights in the living room before retreating to her own room. While dessert sounds enticing, she has an appetite for a little…something else. She kicks off her shorts, leaving them on the ground and climbs into bed.

In the pitch black room, her phone illuminate her face. She respects Haley‘s interest in erotic audios, but it’s not Saruna’s cup of tea. She’s all about the visuals. She browses the front page of her favorite porn site, and there are so many delectable options to choose from. 

Saruna is a considerate roommate.

Tonight would be as good a night as ever for a good jilling session. Her video plays, and she’s wet before the talent even gets to kiss. She keeps a hand over her mouth to muffle moans while her fingers fit against her clits. Thank goodness for earbuds; the sound of kissing and wet slaps fills her ears to match the splashing on the screen. 

Soft cotton soaks in no time. Saruna shudders to herself. It’s been way too long. She’s been busy with schoolwork, and all everyone on her usual roster are in the same boat. She’s no stranger to a night spent with her hands down her pants,  and with no plans in the morning, she could go as long as she wants, providing she doesn’t 
 overstimulates her clit. 

She edges herself a few times, teasing at the threshold of overflowing, but she lets herself be patient; she has all night. There’s no reason to rush. The video she’s watching works wonders. A subby girl being passed around between all of her girlfriends. She’s a mumbling mess, body twisting as they take turns topping her, and her moans are so, so sweet.

Saruna’s fingers flick faster, and she grits her teeth, bringing the phone closer to her face.

The sound for the video cuts out when her phone dings, and she sees a notification on top of her screen: a Snapchat message from Nate.

Funny timing. Saruna was just talking to Haley about him. She chuckles to herself, raising a brow, and she has to ask herself: Why would he message her? 

Three dots showing he’s typing and a message follows shortly:

shit ignore that

that was meant to be for Haley

She shrugs it off initially. Mistakes happen. Right? Still, curiosity begs her to open his Snapchat. How bad could it be? Nate did say to ignore it, after all.

Saruna returns to her porn,  clicking on the next video. The video starts, and the the actors are good looking, but she’s most drawn to the premise:

A sweet boy (who doesn’t quite have the face for porn) plays the part of an innocent, well-meaning guy who helps his girlfriend's best friend. Temptation gets the better of him, and he sleeps with the friend, only for his girlfriend to find out the hard way. Saruna feels bad for the girlfriend character, but at the end of the day, it’s just fiction. No one’s really getting hurt, and part of the satisfaction is seeing how distraught she gets.

She thinks of the notification on her Snapchat icon, all because she left Nate‘s message unopened. It’s bright red like a warning, a sign from above to STOP, but curiosity gets the best of her. She clicks on the message, and the picture opens and illuminates her face.

WHOA. Her jaw drops and she salivates. A picture of Nate, shirt open  with his hands around an enormous bulge in his pants. His slight smirk is cut off, and the caption is brief:

Lol

Her fingers can’t take a screenshot fast enough, and she grins ear to ear. 

Nate starts typing, and it’s almost immediate:

what the fuck??

uhh why did you screenshot that

Saruna stares at the picture, feeling her cheeks warm the longer her eyes linger. She pushes her panties down, letting it hang off one of her thighs, and her fingers returns to her clit, which has been hiding hiding under her panties for far too long tonight. 

Fuck. Porn is fun. Hot people doing hot things, but it’s a part they play. Suggestive (or explicit even) pics of people you know are different. This is nothing like the nonchalant Nate Saruna sees when he’s around to hang out with Haley. 

hello?

Grinning to herself, Saruna types a response, finding out the hard way just how hard it is to type with one hand.

Wouldn't it be so funny if I told Haley you sent this to me (´·ω·`)

it was an accident i swear 

I don't knowww. “Saruna” and “Haley” are kinda far apart in the alphabet ಠ**_**ಠ

Saruna has to bite her lip to stop her moans from being too loud. She watches her volume to not disturb Haley. Her circles rub faster, eyes quickly soaking in the sight of his stomach; the lighting does wonders to accentuate it. Who knew he was hiding a build like that? 

Has Haley even seen him without his shirt? Saruna would feel a little bad if she hasn't, but her arousal doesn't allow remorse to wash over here. 

It's a decent picture. Not vulgar like a blurry, poorly-lit dick pic fueled with the prospect of pussy on the brain. Saruna has to pat him on the back for not following in the footsteps of his fellow males and sending a straight-up shaft. 

promise me youll delete it 

Saruna will, after she gets what she needs from the picture. God, that bulge. His shit must be huge. With some mental math, she wonders if Nate might be bigger than anyone she’s hooked up with. 

She’s undressing the picture with her eye. Her imagination runs wild. What color would that dick be? Is he cut? He phone is right against her face, and Saruna’s going cross-eyed, fixated on him. Lips shamelessly graze the screen, and she imagines wrapping her mouth around him. 

please saruna

Saruna doesn’t have to be a good roommate. 

The thought of Nate begging? Too hot. If he were here, Saruna would climb on top of him. He’d wiggle out of those pants and she’d lower herself to take as much as she could. She bets it wouldn’t all fit, and it’d just put a bulge in her tummy if he tried. 

She’d ride him, bouncing, eager to hear what kind of sounds he makes during sex. Saruna would respond in kind, moans loud enough to pierce the walls. Payback to Haley for those nights she’d record at odd hours of the night. It's fine. Since Nate and Haley weren't actually together, it's not like he'd be cheating on her. 

Fuck, she’s so horny. She pushes her bra off her breasts, and she has to bite on the fabric to stifle her sounds. Besides the cool air that passes over her stiffened nipples, her peaks remain neglected, she wishes someone were here to fondle them. Her hands are occupied, one clutching the phone for dear life while the other rapidly rubs her clit. 

ill do anything 

Saruna rolls onto her stomach, arching her ass up, imagining getting demolished from behind. The built tension, the result of multiple denied orgasms, releases all at once with a few final swipes of her bud, and her face crashes into the pillow, biting it as she whines and writhes to the quickening tempo of her hands. 

With her arousal taken care of, her mind should be clear. Except she gets a great idea. Saruna licks her lips, typing a message for Nate: 

Anything? Why don’t you come to my room and we can…discuss some options? (¬‿¬)

Saruna tosses her panties aside to replace them with a new one. After hearing a nervous knock from the hallway door, she throws on a loose t-shirt and runs over to answer it. 

Nate's standing there with a frown. He peeks in, looking past Saruna. “Is Haley home?” 

“She’s in her room. Called it an early night,” Saruna answers, intrigued by the way Nate grimaces. She walks him into the living room, and has him sit down. “Don't go anywhere. I'm gonna slip into something more comfortable.”

Nate nods, and Saruna returns to her room. She throws on a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and slips into her sneakers. Pulling out her phone, she deletes the screenshot, and knocks on Haley's door. “Haley, Nate’s here.” 

There's a panicked “what?!” from the other side of the door, and Haley pops out of her room, glancing over at the living room. She looks back at Saruna, with widened eyes, “What did you do?” 

“Create an opportunity for you two to talk. I can't have you moping around every day. Go get your man!” Saruna says, gripping her roommate's shoulder. She offers a wiggly smile. “Uh, no rush. Just text me when it's safe to come back.”

Once Saruna is sure Haley won't try to wiggle out of the situation, she leaves the two alone to talk. In retrospect, rubbing one out to the picture of Nate was not her proudest moment. He's not really Saruna’s type, and she wouldn't dream of doing that to Haley. 

Saruna is one hell of a roommate (and wingman). 

Written for image 01 for the June contest!

~

Haley knocks again for the third time, shifting in place. Maybe Nate’s not here. She digs the toe of her sneakers into the carpet and checks her watch. One more knock, and if he doesn’t answer, she’ll go back to her dorm room. A few more seconds pass, and she nearly turns around, but stops when the door opens. 

“Thought I heard something. What’s up?” A tall blonde towers over her, looking at her with a raised brow. “A little late, isn’t it?”

“Nate, you’re in the audio engineering department, right?” Haley asks. 

“Yeah?” Why do you ask?”

“Soooo,” Haley starts, and the syllable drags. “What are the chances you can book me some studio time in one of those fancy soundproof rooms?”

“Can’t do that, sorry,” Nate says flatly, avoiding eye contact and scratching the back of his head. He grits his teeth and sighs. “Department policy.”

“Shit.” Haley paces a few steps back and forth before turning back to Nate. “Then do you think you can give me some advice about recording?”

It’s cute the way Nate perks up. He’s like a six-foot-tall golden retriever with fluffy blonde hair to match. “Oh shoot, what kind of recording? Like music?”

“No,” Haley hesitates, twiddling with her fingers. “I’m just kind of…talking, I guess?”

“So, podcasting?”

“Uh, sure, yeah. Let’s go with that.”

“What kind of stuff do you talk about? I’ll give you a follow and show it to some of my classmates. Get you some traction, you know?”

“Well, here’s the thing: I don’t think it’s ready for people to hear it yet. The…content is fine. I think. But I keep getting these weird noises in my recording.” Haley stops, thinking to yourself, and gives it your best impression, “Like a zhiiiiiiii. It’s there in every clip, no matter what I do. What’s that called?”

Nate chuckles. “That’s just called noise, Haley. Are you running any sort of noise reduction?”

“No?”

“Is your mic omnidirectional? Or does it at least let you switch a cardioid pattern?” Nate asks. He looks up at the ceiling, and Haley can see the gears turning in his head. 

“I don’t think I know what any of that means.” Haley frowns, pulling out her phone and flashing the cracked screen protector. “I just record off of my phone. Do I need to invest in, like, a fancy mic?” 

He shrugs, balancing two invisible options between his two hands. “You don’t have to, but it could help. Why don’t you send me a clip?”

Haley’s cheeks turn as pink as her hair. “Oh no, I can’t do that. As I said, it’s really not ready.”

“It’s fine, Nate insists. “Everyone starts somewhere. I wanna see what you’re working with so I can get a better read on if you need to get a dedicated mic, or if maybe you can just tweak some settings.”

Haley's shoulders slump in defeat, and she looks up at Nate with unsure eyes. Opening her voice notes, her thumb hovers over the play button. “You’re not allowed to judge me.”

“I won’t!” Nate says, raising his arms.

“Not out here,” she grumbles. Haley looks over both shoulders and pushes Nate into his room, letting the door close behind them. She looks at the bottom of her phone, groaning at the lack of an auxiliary port. Why did they start taking those out? “Do you have some headphones you can plug in or something? I don’t want it just blasting out in the open.”

“I don’t have roommates, but if you insist, I think I have an adapter that would work.” Nate walks away and comes back with a collection of chords, sorting through them until he finds one that’d work with Haley's phone. He presses play. His smile fades, and his eyes widen.

Haley can hear it, even if muffled by Nate’s earphones: the sound of her own moaning. She cringes when his finger dashes for the pause button. 

Nate turns to her, blinking slowly, red in the face. “Haley…”

“You said you wouldn’t judge me!” she interrupts, pointing straight at him, and his face twists.

“This isn’t for a podcast, is this?”

“It’s not,” she admits finally, shrinking in embarrassment. “I kind of…wanna get into posting erotic audios.”

“Is this to, like, make money?” Nate asks. 

“No, it’s more for fun, but if it takes off and there’s interest, I’d take requests, maybe. Didn’t really think that far ahead.” Before Nate can respond, she desperately tries to change the subject, “But what about the noise? Is this workable?”

“Oh, right,” Nate says as he presses play again.

Haley covers her face with her palms, prepared to empty a lung’s worth of air into them. She wants to disappear. This is a terrible idea. After a few seconds, Nate stops playback and pulls his headphones off to sit around his neck. She waits patiently for a reaction.

“The good news is that you can probably get a simple audio editor for your phone if you don’t want to run Audacity on your computer,” he says, but Haley looks at him blankly. Nate purses his lips, and he massages his temples. “You want me to show you how to do that, don’t you?” 

“Yes, please.”

Nate’s head nudges towards his couch, and they take a seat. It’s a lot of dead time while he researches for a good mobile app with a solid UI. It’s a cycle of downloading one and inevitably deleting it when it’s missing a key feature. Over and over again. 

Eventually, they find a good one, and he teaches Haley how to use it (despite figuring it out on the spot). She picks up quickly, and once she gets into the groove, time flies. Hours pass without her knowing, and she excitedly takes off Nate’s headphones to show him her progress.

He’s somehow still (mostly) upright, head slouching onto the throw pillow he’s clutching. The light snores are cute, and he looks so peaceful. Still, Haley should wake him before she leaves. She ruffles his hair, and he stirs, opening his eyes slowly and looking around before he looks up at Haley.

“Sorry,” Nate says, struggling to keep his eyes open. He rubs his eyes. “I must have dozed off.” 

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Haley says. “I kept you up late. I’ll get out of here.”

“It’s fine,” Nate assures before yawning, and Haley struggles to ignore the way her breath catches. His voice is dreamy when he’s sleepy, and the droop of his eyelids when he looks at her is enough to speed her heart up. “It’s not like I have class in the morning. Did you get to finish?” 

“Almost!” She tells him, taking off the headphones, prepared to coil the cords, but Nate shakes his head, assuring her she can borrow them for now (he has spares, apparently). Haley shrugs, getting up to walk towards the door, and Nate sluggishly follows after her, picking up his pace until he can match her stride. The two stand outside his door, and Haley looks up. “Can I hug you?” 

Nate raises a brow and laughs. “For what?” 

“For helping, obviously.” 

“I just showed you what to do. You did all the actual editing,” Nate tells her. He freezes up when he feels Haley’s arms wrap around him. Slowly, he returns the embrace.

“Still, I appreciate it.” Haley lets her arms linger around him for a moment longer, surprised when she’s the first to let go.

“Good luck on your, er, audios,” Nate says as he waves, and Haley turns to walk away.

She doesn’t hear the sound of his door shutting until she turns the corner. 

~

I finished it!!

what time did you sleep, Haley

Don’t ask 😪

What do you think??

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||။|၊၊|||။||၊၊ (7:42) 

did you just send me audio porn at 9:18am

Shhhh. I just wanted a second opinion. Can you give it a listen? I wanna post it so bad

sure i guess

um do I even wanna know what a ramblefap is 

It’s like an improv thing, rather than it being scripted. Idk

Haley’s last message is marked as read, and the longer the time stretches, the more anxious she grows. Her feet tap against her bed, and impatience gets the best of her as she rolls over to kick the bed, pressing her face into crossed arms. 

She pulls out her phone, and there’s still no response. Her thumbs type up a response:

Is it that bad? Or are you just being really thorough 😅

sorry i thought i sent my reply. its good

How many times did you listen to it lol

not answering that

Did you jerk off to it?! 😏

haley 

Joking! 😛

Half-joking, actually. Yes, Haley sent it to show off the fruits of her labor. But it would also be nice to be given some praise. His text would do, she supposes. She wonders again how often he listened to it. 

Did he like the sound of her moans? Could he hear how wet she was when she played with herself? She’d read a few scripts before; plenty of fun premises, and they look like fun, but it’s so much more raw to let the phone record while she loses herself in pleasure. 

Haley imagines Nate, phone clutched in his hand, while her voice fills his ears. A bulge in his sweats would call for his attention, and it’d be too much for him to ignore. He’d strip off his pants to free himself–Haley wonders what his dick is like. Is he long? Thick? Veiny? Cut? 

She pictures him stroking himself, his cock contrasting with the black tees he’s always wearing. Nate would follow her pace, biting his lip to the tune of her moans. He’d stroke faster, unable to stop, thinking just how sweet her voice is, wishing she were there with him. His hips would buck into his closed fist, and he’d come before the audio ended, and pearly white would soak and soil his shirt. 

Haley’s daydream is getting out of hand, and just thinking about it isn’t enough. She reaches for her drawer and pulls out the nearest vibrator. It’s got some charge. Perfect. She grabs her phone and sets it on the pillow, ready to record.

Might as well. 

After sliding her bottoms down, she grazes the tip of her toy against her slit, and when the buzzing begins, her lips part, and a gutteral groan seeps out of her. 

Her eyes close, and she grins. Easing the vibrator into herself, she thinks of Nate thrusting slowly. He’d do it to be gentle, but how hot would it be if it was also him trying not to come too quickly? Haley’s hand speeds up. Fuck, he feels good. She shifts in place, pushing her hips up, and the new angle lets her toy press against her sweet spot.

The intensity increases with some clicks on the vibrator. She eyes the time on the phone. What the hell? Only two minutes in, and she’s ready to come already. Thinking of Nate got her so wet already, and the toy isn’t helping, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Haley wants to hold back, but with release within her grasp, she instead brings the power to the max. Her phone can probably catch the buzzing of the motor, but her moans get louder for every second she manages to hold out. 

“Fuck me, fuck me.” Words slip out in a whimper. Part of its performative, a boon to her future listeners, but with the fantasies fresh in her mind, she’s speaking to Nate, begging for his dick. Breathy gasps cut into short whines, and Haley rolls into her toy until she’s a bumbling mess. The mattress creaks when she loses control of her body. A few more shudders escape when her body settles, and she sighs at the ceiling before stopping the recording. 

Haley’s glad she doesn’t have class today either. She can spend the day editing (among…other things). 

~

Visits to Nate’s room grow in frequency in the weeks that follow. What can Haley say? He’s good company. Helps that he’s handsome and not a total horndog, despite everything he knows about her. Despite feeling like a bother, he never makes her feel like one. 

He peers up at her from his laptop, and Haley catches a glimpse of a smile when she’s pacing around his living room. 

“I’ve been pretty consistent about posting, and I’ve been getting some good feedback, but it’s hard to keep up.” Haley stops, tapping her foot with fists at her waist. “My roommate’s been knocking on my door complaining when I’m in the middle of recording, so it throws off my groove.” 

“Yeah, I can imagine Saruna is so thrilled to hear you moaning through the walls,” Nate says, smiling and shaking his head.

“Right? She should consider herself lucky,” Haley grumbles, Nate’s sarcasm completely going over her head. “She’s such a prude.”

“Or,” Nate suggests, offering an alternative, “she just values her sleep. Crazy, right?”

“I guess,” Haley agrees with crossed arms. She pulls up her phone, and a few Google searches have her brainstorming ideas. “Can you help me soundproof my room? That would help.” 

“Nope.”

“Nateeee,” she whines, plopping on the spot next to him. “Please?”

“Don’t waste your money. Just use the setup I use when I’m recording music in my bedroom. I’ve got it down to a science,” Nate says proudly. His expression drops when he sees a less-than-satisfied look from Haley. “What?”

“Why didn’t you mention that when I came to you weeks ago asking for studio time?” Haley asks in disbelief. 

“I thought you were dead-set on using the ones at school. My bad,” Nate explains sheepishly. “Come on. Follow me.” 

Haley follows behind the boy, and Nate closes the door behind them. She’s always been excited to see what his bedroom looked like, but is bummed that it’s not for the reason she’d usually want. Nate puts his laptop on his desk, plugging in cable after cable. The face he makes when he’s concentrating is cute. 

He motions to a mic on the desk and has Haley sit on his chair. Nate points to the screen, and Haley desperately tries her best to keep up as he explains everything. 

“You can record on the software directly. Just speak right into the mic. I have a noise-reduction filter running in the background, so you’ll have less to do later. Best part?” Nate puts his headphones over Haley’s ears. His voice is muffled, almost completely cancelled out, but Haley watches him speak into the microphone. “Real-time monitoring. So you can hear yourself and decide if you have to redo a part.” 

Haley slips the headphones off and looks up at Nate. Her lips quiver. “I can really use this?” 

“Yeah, I finished my homework, so I don’t need my laptop anytime soon. Knock yourself out. I’ll watch some TV or something if you need me–”

She grabs his wrist, keeping him in place, and she purses her lips, working up the confidence to speak. “What if I have questions? You can just stay here next to me, can’t you?”

“I figured you’d want some, er, privacy,” Nate suggests with a grimace. “I can’t imagine you’d want me…watching.”

“Wait,” Haley bursts into laughter at the way Nate squirms. “Nate, sometimes it’s just acting, you know?”

“It’s pretty convincing from the one time you sent me one of your files,” Nate says, his face bright red. “I don’t know how any of that stuff works. I just know the tech side of it all.”

“So you were just gonna let me masturbate in your room while you watched TV?” Haley says, tilting her head, unable to stop herself from smirking.

“Yes?” Nate shrugs, ducking eye contact.

“You wouldn’t rather just watch?’

“Haley, quit teasing me,” Nate grumbles, shifting in his place.

“I’m serious.” Haley bites her lip and pats the chair next to her. “I don’t mind if you stick around. Think of it as me paying you back, since you’re doing me a solid.”

Silently, he takes a seat. I see him dig in his stuff for a second pair of headphones, which he plugs into the computer. He’s uneasy, but Haley knows it’s because he can be rather shy when it comes to sex.

Haley leans closer to the microphone, propping a heel onto the chair and reaching through the loose opening of her shorts. A few swipes over her panties, and she exhales with a grin while looking at Nate. It’s uncanny to hear herself so clearly in her ears, but she grins knowing that Nate is hearing the same thing.

She can tell Nate is trying to be polite with his eyes. Initially, he isn’t sure where to look, but occasionally, Haley catches him glancing down at her fingers while she plays with herself.

“Can I take these off?” Haley asks, needing to be rid of the layers between her fingers and eager entrance. 

Nate stares in response,  clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah, sure, whatever you need to do.”

Haley stands briefly, just long enough to push her shorts and panties down to her ankles. She steps out of them, relieved that the headphones hide how red her ears must be. To think she’d be so bold as to strip down in front of Nate and let him watch her is not something she planned on, but if it’s a way to get him to notice her, she’ll take it.

She turns her body to face him, leaning back in his chair. Her voice projects; every moan is crystal clear. Haley can’t tell what Nate is mumbling, but he can’t take his eyes off her. He’s enamored by the way her fingers play with her pussy, and she swears she spots a bulge in his pants.

“You’re so far,” Haley coos, pulling him by the chair and rolling him towards her. His leg bumps hers, and she uses her foot to caress his shin.

His eyes widen when she takes his hand, bringing it to her, and he stammers. “W-what are you doing?”

“Someone suggested I add some sound effects to make everything a bit more immersive, so I figured I’d give it a try.” She flashes a smile when there’s the slightest bit of disappointment on Nate's face when he tugs his hands towards the microphone instead of between her legs. Haley brings her lips to his hand, kissing his knuckles, and he shudders at the feeling of her soft lips against his skin. “Do you think it’s convincing?”

“I g-guess so,” Nate responds shyly.

Haley leans closer to Nate, tugging at the fabric of his shirt. His eyes meet hers, but they quickly veer down to her lips. Nate’s breath stops when Haley inches closer still, and their lips graze. “Maybe a real kiss would sound better?”

Nate nods, and Haley presses her lips to his. Soft and slow. Not like the quick pecks Haley had left on Nathan’s hands. His eyes scan every inch of her face, seeking a sign that this is okay; they finally close when Haley cradles his face and deepens the kiss.

“I was thinking of you when I was playing with myself,” Haley says. Her voice is raw. The lines blur. Part of what she says is for recording, but it also feels like a confession that she thinks about him at night. He’s the fuel to her fire, usually, now more than ever.

“Your moans are so pretty,” Nate says. 

Haley indulges him in more sounds. Sharp. Breathy. Sweet. Right in this moment, it’s all for Nate. She closes the gap between them again, needing more of him. Kisses are sloppy and wet. Needy. “I’m so wet thinking about you.”

Nate’s eyes start to trail away, looking down at her, cursing to himself. “Want me to help? I could if you–”

Haley doesn’t let another second pass before bringing his hand down to her slit. His hands are shaky and timid, but it’s gotta be the spontaneity of it all. Everything feels so fresh. She guides his fingertips to her bud, and her fingers over his show him what she likes.

He catches on quickly, and she moans louder when he presses it harder against her, fingertips swiping over her swollen clit. The mic barely catches his voice, but Haley hears it faintly through the headphones. “How does that feel?”

She pushes one side of his headphones off, and her teeth desperately bite at his earlobe. Haley whines for him, “Faster…oh, shit.”

Haley clutches at the edge of his desk, and nails start to claw at the wood grain. She help his hand down and eases his fingers into her slit. She need him. Badly. When his fingers slide in slowly, Haley’s legs spread in response.

Nate’s face is full of a million things she doesn’t know how to interpret. Care. Admiration. Some kind of possessiveness. Confusion, like he’s not sure this is real.

It’s definitely real. Every moan Haley rewards him with is real. Every treat for her nerves is real and not just her imagination. Nate works her walls, and she couldn’t be happier. His fingers find a rigid, bulbous spot inside Haley, and she gasps sharply.

“Fuck, right there. Focus on that spot,” Haley coaches. Her fingers find her clit and rubs furiously to his tempo. Her hips roll into him, and Haley feels herself slipping in the chair. Nate’s free hand holds her waist sturdily, and he leans forward to kiss her.

Haley’s grip on the table tightens, and her eyes shut. The tension in her core loosens, and the heat blooms inside her, spreading from the point where Nate’s fingers continuously press against her. There’s desperation in every moan that escapes, and Haley swears she catches a groan from Nate too. 

Her vision sharpens when she regains composure, and Nate pulls his fingers out of her. Haley takes his hand, sucking his middle two fingers, and the taste of herself on him spurs something deeper in her. Haley wants more. She wants to continue.

But his eyes break away, looking to the side as he tugs at the neckline of his shirt. “Did you get everything you needed to?”

“I think so?” Haley says, but she lets the recording keep going. She can always edit out the talking bits that aren’t relevant. “I think I have a title, too: My Crush Catches Me Masturbating and Offers to Help.”

Nate laughs to himself, flashing a smile that puts a flutter in her stomach. “I’m your crush?”

Haley’s cheeks flush, and her eyes dart away. She has no reason to believe he’d be mean if she were honest. It’d be fine to just tell him the truth. But for whatever reason, she can’t bring herself to. She looks at him, murmuring, “It’s just a hook to get people interested.”

“Oh,” Nate says, biting the inside of his cheek. He flinches when Haley puts a hand on his thigh.

“Now what about you? I can play with you too, if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Nate says. “You…don’t have to do that.”

Haley purses her lips and looks up at Nate. She stops the recording, and there’s an awkwardness she can’t seem to shake. “Um, can you send that to me when you get a chance?”

“Yeah,” Nate says. “Sure thing.”

Haley waits for him to smile or crack a joke, but neither happens. She sighs to herself, and guilt starts to weigh heavily on her shoulders. Gathering her clothes, she slips back into her panties and shorts. “Hey, was what we did okay?”

“No, yeah. Yeah…yeah,” Nate says, and Haley can’t tell if he’s trying to convince her or himself. “It was just…”

“Unexpected?”

“Yeah.” his eyes flit around, only occasionally meeting Haley’s, and he opens his mouth a few times to speak, eventually asking, “Earlier, was that…just acting?”

“Are you asking if I got to finish?” Haley says with a light laugh, but when Nate nods, she offers him a reassuring smile. “All real. You made me feel really good.”

Haley leans in to kiss him, but Nate turns his head abruptly, and her lips land on his cheek. She pulls away, eyebrows unsure, and Nate offers a half-hearted smile. “I…guess I’ll go now? See you around.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Nate says, drafting an email to send Haley her file. He follows her to his door, and they pause when he holds it open for her. “Just let me know if you ever need to record. As long as I’m not in class, it should be fine.”

“So you want to make this a more…regular thing?” Haley suggests, mirth in her voice. She walks closer to him, looking up with a smirk.

Nate’s expression is blank, and he shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Whatever you need for your content, I guess. I’m happy to help however I can.” 

Haley grips the strap of her backpack self-consciously. He’s been more receptive to hugs when she leaves his room, but it feels wrong to initiate now. Something’s bothering him, and it feels like an uphill battle trying to figure it out. “Later, Nate. Thanks again.” 

She walks off, but doesn’t dare peek back over her shoulder. Half expecting his door to close immediately, as usual, Haley doesn’t hear the sound until she turns the corner. The thought of him fingering her is fresh in her head, but it’s bittersweet, considering how he acted afterwards. Something’s up, and Haley wants to fix it.

But she doesn’t know where to start. 

Written for image 03 for the June contest! 

~

I knew in my heart that I'd always love Katia Bautista. Our parents were next-door neighbors, so naturally, we grew up around each other. From diapers to daycare to doodling notes back and forth in middle school, she was always around, and I felt so lucky to have a friend like her. As we grew older, a fluttering in my chest suggested that maybe she was more than just Kat, the girl next door.  

At her middle school graduation party, something was off. In private, I’d ask if she was okay, and she would offer the fakest smile I’ve ever seen (I would know better than anyone, after all). She put on a good act for everyone else, but when she wasn’t socializing, I found her clinging to my side with a sort of lost look in her eyes.

When everyone else had gone home, I helped her and her parents clean up. I didn't mind one, it was Kat, after all. Our parents snuck upstairs for a few glasses of wine.

I took my place next to Kat on the couch, and she scooted closer to me, hugging her knees. Her head fell to my shoulders, and I froze up.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked.

“Do you think we’ll always be together?” Kat’s eyes stayed glued to the TV, save for a quick glance towards me. 

I shifted in my seat before holding up a hooked pinky. “I know so. I promise, Kat Bautista.”

Kat smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. After a sigh, she said blankly, “My parents are separating.”

My jaw dropped, and my eyes widened. I looked up towards the stairs. “But they seemed fine all day!”

“Dad‘s really good at lying,” Kat said bitterly. “Mom‘s not taking it well, and we’re kind of not sure what the living situation is gonna be next year.”

Her face fell into her crossed arms, and I could tell she was fighting back sniffles. “It’s all so, so messy. I really don’t wanna move; all my friends are here. I really can’t imagine not having you around, Josh.”

I grabbed Kat’s hand, and she looked at me; our eyes locked before moving down to the others’ lips. With a nod, we leaned closer, and the gap shrank between us. That night, we were each other's first kiss.

“I wish everything didn’t have to change,” Kat lamented as she twiddled her thumbs. I couldn’t stop thinking of the feeling of her lips against mine, and while I wanted more, she needed comfort now more than anything. We watched the movie in silence, not saying much more of the rest of the night.

“If we get married, you can stay here, you know.”

“We’re fourteen, Josh,” Kat argued, looking up and rolling her eyes when she couldn't help but smile back.

“When we’re older, then.” 

“You mean it?” Kat asked. A raised eyebrow was her humoring my hypotheticals. To her, it was a silly conversation to help distract her from inevitable change. 

To me, it was a vow. I was serious; if she’d let me, that is. “I promise, Kat Bautista.” 

~

The divorce was an easier process than Kat thought. Her mom would get the house, they didn’t have to move, and the only real difference is that her dad would move out. A few awkward talks later, and we agreed (mutually?) that the kiss was a mistake. Maybe it was the mood. Maybe it was the fear of losing each other forever. But we were fine being friends.

Mostly. 

In different intervals and capacities, truly, we wanted more, but the timing was never right. She or I would get into a relationship. Rinse and repeat after breakups inevitably occurred. There was never a time we were both single and ready to pursue something with each other.

To make matters worse, a full-ride scholarship to her number-one pick would put her on the West Coast, and I still wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do with my life.

With no plans of my own for school in the fall, I rode along with Kat and her mom to move things to her dorm. After a cross-country drive and a busy morning full of lifting, it was time to say goodbye. Her mom couldn’t stop crying, but she gave us a few moments so that Kat and I could talk. Kat threw her arms around me, and the view of her face misted over when I couldn’t hold back tears of my own.

A soft set of lips—a pair I knew by heart from years ago— against mine left me in shock, and Kat wiped her eyes, laughing and forcing a smile. “After college, when we have things figured out, maybe we can give us a try?”

The quiver of her lips betrayed her smile, and I gently took her head into my hands, pressing my lips to her forehead. “I promise, Kat Bautista.” 

~

Four years of texting kept our friendship strong, even with a three-hour time difference, I’d stay up well past my bedtime just to sneak in a little extra time talking to her. By her senior year, we were talking less. It was fine. Her course load was busier, so she wasn’t able to come home for any of her breaks, but I got a graduation ticket in the mail with a note: 

I need my best friend there for my big day ♡ 

The timing was perfect. It didn’t interfere with my own finals, and I was able to get time off work. The plane ticket was pricier than I’d like, but it’d be worth it. This would be our new start. Four years, and my feelings for Kat were just as strong as before.

Kat was waiting at the curb for me at the airport, and she motioned for me to climb into the back seat. She cleared her throat and turned to face me from the passenger seat, motioning towards the driver. “Josh, this is my boyfriend, James.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” James told me, extending a hand to me over the center console. “Kat tells me all about you.”

Ironically, I’d never heard of him. I took his hand to be courteous, and the car ride was conversationless until he turned up the music on the radio. He drove us to the hotel, and I stepped out, offering my thanks. 

A car door closing behind me was a surprise, and Kat picked up her pace to walk next to me. I didn’t need help checking in, but I wouldn’t complain about some extra time to catch up. Clearly, there was a lot to talk about. 

In the elevator ride up to my room, the silence was somehow more awkward than the car ride. I broke it first: “You never mentioned that you were dating.”

“It’s a relatively new thing. We were staying up late, preparing for my capstone project, and things just kind of happened. He told me that he’d had feelings ever since we met freshman year and that he wouldn’t forgive himself if he graduated without at least telling me about them.”

“And…you felt the same, it seems,” I said, forcing a laugh, looking over at Kat. 

She had the biggest grin on her face. A rolled hand rested over her chest, and that smile faded when she met my eyes. “I know we said that we might try dating if we were both single at the end of college… Josh, I’m so–”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I told her sincerely. I was admittedly a little hurt, but I meant it. “No hard feelings.”

Kat crosses her wrists behind her back, not looking up at me. “I feel bad.” 

“Don’t.” I pulled her in for a hug and rested my chin on top of her head. “I promise, Kat Bautista.“

She hugged me tighter, fingers clutching at my sweater. Her voice was muffled in my chest. “Thank you for understanding. Love you, Josh.”

I knew what she meant. It was love as a friend–well, her best friend–and that alone meant the world to me. Even if I wanted it to be more, I’d always want her to be part of my life. I let my cheek rub against her hair and smiled bittersweetly to myself. “I love you too, Kat.”

~ 

The graduation ceremony was excellent. Seeing Kat walk down the stage with all of her cords and sashes was incredible. Her mom and I put everyone else’s family to shame with how loud we cheered. Dinner afterwards was nice too. After getting to know James, we really hit it off, and I knew he would be perfect for Kat. That alone eased my heartache, and seeing her smile in the way she looked at him was all I could ask for. 

They dropped Kat’s mom and me off at the hotel (she picked it for the same reason I did: it was the cheapest in the area, considering the uptick in out-of-town visitors). 

Kat hugged us both, and this one stretched on for a few moments longer. This was likely to be the last time I’d see her in a while, and I was making peace with that. She whispered to me, “Can you do me a favor?”

“I can try.”

“Can you check on my mom now and then? She won’t show it, but I know she’s torn up that I’m about to move out for real,” Kat said.

I laughed it off, but her face was as serious as could be. I gave in, ultimately, nodding with a smile. “Fine. I promise, Kat Bautista.” 

Kat let go first and waved goodbye before she took her spot in the car. Even as they drove off, she waved back at us from an open window. The taillights of James's car became a distant twinkle, and I wiped my nose.

A hand on my back startled me, and I looked to see Kat’s mom. There’s concern written all over her face. “You okay? You look like you could use a drink.”

“Just tired. Still adjusting to the time difference,” I lied. 

“Bullshit,” she called, chuckling to herself. “Come on. The hotel has a bar, and even if it’s dingy, alcohol is alcohol.”

~

“I really expected her to come back home and mooch off of me for longer,” Kat’s mom tells me with a nostalgic smile, tracing the rim of her wineglass with a finger. “I even kept her room the same–exactly the way she left it–in case she ever wanted to move back.”

“Yeah, I thought things would be a little different after she graduated,” I said, swirling my beer bottle to see how much I had left.

“In what way?” she says, huffing through her nostrils with a raised brow.

I pause, staring at the tip of my bottle, and take another swig. “It’s…uh…nothing.”

“Clearly, not if it’s got you so down.” She nudges my side with her elbow. That toothy grin lowers my guard. Kat smiles the same way, though there’s a brilliance before me that makes me avert my eyes to ignore the invisible clench at my chest. “Do you remember when we dropped her off at her school?”

“Do I ever? It was one heck of a road trip. A last hurrah with my girl, and I appreciate you helping. If it were just me and her, it would’ve taken quite a bit longer. I still remember you were puffy-eyed the entire drive back. Tried to tell me it was allergies. Nice try.”

I tip my bottle up and chug whatever’s left. “I think…Kat and I have always just narrowly missed each other. She said that when she was done with college, we could try our hands at dating. Like, actually dating each other.”

“Ah, so that’s what it is,” she says, grinning at her wine glass. “Truthfully, your mom and I were always wondering if you and Kat would ever become a thing. When she started dating in high school, I was ecstatic, thinking you’d finally done it. Imagine my surprise when it was–oh, what was his name?”

“Don’t remind me,” I mumble. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for Kat. She didn’t make me wait; I chose to. I hate the idea that I might’ve spent the best years of my life pining for someone who didn’t care–”

“Hey, before you say more, she did care about you, Josh. Whenever she calls–after we’ve gotten through the pleasantries–it’s always, ‘How’s Josh?’ ‘Is he seeing anyone?’ ‘Well, find out!’ Silly girl, that one. Last thing you’d want is your neighbor snooping around, interrogating you about your love life, so I left you alone.”

I don’t respond, fixated on my empty bottle.

“If you ask me, you’re better off this way.” The bitterness in her voice is palpable, and it strikes me right in my heart. “First loves hardly work out. Look how I turned out.”

Guilt fills me immediately. Whatever I’m going through is nothing compared to a divorce. “Sorry, you’re right.” 

“That’s just life. Far behind me, now. Things got better for me, so the same will happen to you. I promise.” She stares at her empty glass and then at my bottle. “One more round?”

“Sure,” I say, feeling better (even if only a little) about everything. “I’ll buy.”

“What a gentleman,” she teases.”Keep it up, and you’ll find your next love in no time.”

The bartender swings by with a fresh glass for her and a bottle for me. The first sip is refreshing. It’s easier to smile. 

After a generous gulp of her own, she starts, “Clearly we’ll both be missing Kat, now, but think you can do an old lady like me a favor?”

“You’re not old,” I assure her, and she only laughs in response. “What is it?”

“Don’t be a stranger,” she says, and when I chuckle, she shoots me a stern look. “I mean it. I could use the company now and then. It was lonely enough having an empty nest.”

“We can have drinks like we are now,” I suggest.

“Or you could do my lawn so I can stop paying these dang landscapers.”

“Oh, so this is what it’s about. You’re trying to get free labor,” I tease, bumping her knee with mine. 

She looks away, cheeks tinted by the tiniest bit of pink as she laughs. The crinkles at the corners of her eyes show her age. It’s the first time I’ve noticed them. “Now I never said anything about free labor. I’m happy to pay you as long as you can undercut the landscapers.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I say before taking a drink.

“Are you sure?” she asks, tilting her glass up towards me. “I’ll hold you to it.”

I grin and clink her glass in return. “I promise, Miss Bautista.”

“Josh, I think we’re way past you being so formal with me.” 

“What should I call you then?” I ask, tilting my head.

Her hand rests on my knee, squeezing it after a moment, and I don’t know what to make of it. Rather than address it, I hide a blush behind my beer bottle.

Her lips rest at the rim of her glass, and her eyes flit towards me. “Katrina is fine.”

~ 

After we finish our drinks, Katrina tussles my hair as she stands up. “Think you could do me one more favor?”

“Am I doing a deep cleaning for your house too when we get home?”

“No, nothing like that. I did a little shopping when I was in town, and I’m having trouble getting everything into my bag. Can you come by and give me a hand?”

“Sure. Go ahead, and I’ll meet you upstairs after I settle the tab.”

I flinch, feeling her slip a keycard into my blazer pocket. She taps my jacket and grins. “717. Don’t get lost.”

Katrina's eyes linger on me longer than I expect. I turn away, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. She waves goodbye before walking off, and I catch myself staring at her. Restlessly, I look around for the bartender. 

I stare at my reflection on the elevator ride up. After fixing my tie and loosening it a tad, I feel my pocket to ensure I still have Katrina’s key card. I count doors in my head on the long walk down the hall, and I stop at hers. The door unlocks when I tap the card over the receiver, and I call out, “It’s me.”

“I was starting to think you’d had enough of me,” Katrina says from deeper in the room.

“Absolutely not,” I assure, kicking off my shoes to leave them by the door. “Didn’t I just promise to see you more often?”

I walk closer to the room, unsure of where Katrina is. She’s not in the bathroom, not in front of the TV, and not at the desk by the window. A pool of fabric on the ground catches my eye–the dress she was wearing earlier–on the floor next to her open luggage.

“Over here, love,” Katrina says after she clears her throat. I look up towards her, turning my head slowly, gulping hard as I see her, splayed out across her bed, only in her black bra and panties to match. 

Her fingers mindlessly trace her hips, and naturally, my eyes take in every gorgeous curve. “Wh-what are you doing, Miss—”

“I told you,” she says sternly. “Katrina is fine. I think I have just the thing to mend a broken heart.”

“What’s that?” I dare to ask.

“You won’t find out standing all the way over there,” she jokes with a grin. Katrina gets onto her hands and knees, prowling towards me slowly like a tigress sizing up her next meal. She licks her lips and kneels on the edge of the bed. A curled finger beckons me closer.

I don’t hesitate. My heart pounds. Harder still when her fingers press against my shirt. From the movement, she’s getting a feel for my body through my clothes. Katrina fiddles with the tip of my tie, tapping along the silk, prodding against me, higher with each poke. 

Every touch is gentle until it’s not. She grasps the knot of my tie, and the firm tug pulls me closer. Now that I’m in her orbit, I can feel just how warm her breath is. Her eyes are fixated on my lips, and that slight curl of her salivating lips piques my curiosity.

“You clean up so well,” she tells me, and the tension of her grasp loosens when she slips the slack through my tie’s knot. “But I want to get a look at what you’re hiding underneath.”

I’m speechless, unable to properly respond, save for a single word: “W-why?”

“You got to see me, so I wanna see you too. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

The flex of my dick in my pants isn’t a betrayal of my thoughts, but instead loyalty. Excitement. I have no complaints. Absolutely none. Only questions. I fish through the thoughts caught in the whirlpool that’s my head. “Is this really fine?”

It feels rhetorical the way I let her untuck my shirt. My breath catches with each button she undoes. And when she pushes my shirt off my shoulders to bare my chest, I moan, feeling her nails graze my sides.

Katrina kisses the center of my chest, right above my heart, and that slight smirk makes me wonder if she can feel just how fast my heart is beating and if she knows it’s because of her. Her lips graze against my skin before she peers up at me. “You tell me. Do you want this? Or don’t you?”

I deflect, turning my eyes away, groaning when fingers trace under the top of my pants. “But why would you want me?”

“You may have just gotten your heartbreak broken this weekend, but you’ve gotta get your head out of it. You’re a handsome young man with your whole life ahead of you.” Katrina speaks softly against my neck before pressing gentle pecks, and I bite my lip in a meager effort to ignore how nice her lips feel and the fact that she’s quickly working her way through undoing my belt and pulling my pants down. A palm rubs over my bulge, and fingers peel back at the top of my boxers. “Besides, you’re in your sexual prime.”

“Katrina–” I start, and it’s the first time I can say her name without the awkwardness. After a deep breath, I look at her. My eyes roll back, feeling her fingers through my hair. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh, that’s easy, Josh,” she says with a sneer. “Tell me yes if you want it, and tell me no if you don’t. No ulterior motives. No fine print.”

I’m weighing my options in my head, and Katrina sighs at my lack of response. She shifts, sitting up, and her eyes are vulnerable. “No pressure, either, you know? I know I must’ve come off strong. If you don’t want things to change, I under–”

My hands move without thinking: one on her waist, the other on her cheek, tilting her head up to look at me. I don’t know what to soak in first: deep, brown, beautiful eyes–the same as Kat’s– accented by fine wrinkles of the outer corners. Freckles that I had no idea she had. Parted lips that beckon me closer as she inches towards me.

Our hasty lips meet in the middle, and it’s passion, immediately. No chaste pecks to feel the other out. Just want and desire. More feelings than either of us knows what to do with. I pull away first to assure everything's okay, but a gasp escapes when she brings my lips back to hers. She sates her hunger with the nibble of my bottom lip. 

She pushes my pants and underwear down, and I hook them off when they’re down by my ankles. Katrina scoots back. making space for me at the edge of the bed, and I lean in to kiss her again. I can’t get enough of these lips, and whatever feelings I held for Katia were not even a blip on my radar.

Right now, everything is Katrina. Every breath we share. Every whiff I catch of the mix of her sweat and perfume. Every sweet noise that slips past her lips. Every gentle scratch of her nails against my skin. Every contour of that beautiful body.

“You really love my curves, don’t you?” Katrina asks, guiding my hands to feel her waist and hips. It’s agony to even think of not feeling her. My hands stay stuck to her like a magnet, caressing her slowly. “I could tell from the way you watched me walk away downstairs.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, not meeting her eyes, but I shudder when she kisses my neck.

“I know how men operate. And even if I put on some weight in the past few years, it doesn’t seem to be affecting the number of glances I get.”

“You’re beautiful the way you are,” I say, mesmerized as I take another look at her body. My grip tightens, and my fingers press into plump flesh, spurring a giggle from Katrina. In my head, I’m mapping everywhere I want to put my mouth.

“Thank you for saying that, love,” she says, tapping my nose with a playful finger. She smirks as she leans in closer, and those eyes put a pause on my pulse. “But I know that already.”

Another kiss makes me see stars. Katrina has the reins, in complete control, and I have no qualms letting it all happen. She helps me higher onto the bed, and a gentle shove has my head crashing into her pillows, staring up at her.

“Go ahead,” Katrina says with a laugh, taking my hand and bringing it to her breast. She reads me like an open book, and for the life of me, it seems impossible to gain some leeway. “I’m so glad you came when you did. I was getting worried that I’d have to take care of myself tonight.

“I had to get that dress off of me. I was watching the clock, and I’d frown with every minute that passed. My fingers found their way into my panties, and that’s when I heard the door open.” She takes my hand, and I see her fish the gusset of her panties to the side and bring my fingers to her.

My eyes widen, and my jaw hangs in disbelief. She’s so wet, and my eager fingertips trace her slit. I want to touch her more to feel her insides, but her hand pushes mine away, and she puts her panties back to cover herself. She wags a finger before leaning down to kiss me. Every time our lips meet, it feels like it’s for the first time, and I want them over and over again.

“I said I would heal your broken heart, didn’t I?” Her hand wraps around me slowly, and a desperate breath slips out when she tightens around me. Her voice quiets to a whisper, and her free hand cradles my cheek when she presses her lips against the other. Warm breath tickles my ear. “So let me take care of you.”

A firm grip strokes me generously along my length. Her thumb swipes lightly over my frenulum with every pass of her hands, and I can’t think straight. A whine shamefully leaves my lips when she pulls her hands away, and she grins. 

It’s been a while since I’ve done any of this, so I apologize if I’m rusty,” Katrina says with a sweet smile. She tucks some hair behind her ear and moves her mouth to my cock. Her lips lock around me, and I feel her tongue massaging every inch she takes. A few bobs of her head has her slurping along me, and my hips push off the bed into her. “Looks like I’ve still got it.”

Katrina indulges me in a few more deep gulps of my cock before she pops up for air. That toothy grin steals the breath from my lungs. I swear she's enjoying this more than I am, but she looks at me in delight when all I can muster is a simple: 

“Katrina~” 

“I have a friend in my book club. She’s got a thing for younger guys. I was thinking of sending her your way,” Katrina says, her hand pumps me quickly while the other strokes along my head, petting my hair. “But I think I want you all to myself.”

One of my hands reaches for her nape, and I pull her down, desperately begging for her mouth on mine. I feel her laugh against my lips. 

“She tells me the guys she sleeps with love to call her mommy,” Katrina says, twisting her hand along my shaft. She slows her pace and moves down to me, whispering before kissing my cheek, “Are you the same way, Joshua?”

The sultry way my full name passes through her lips does unspeakable things to my brain chemistry, and my breath rises as I twitch violently in her grasp. I peek down reluctantly, worried I'd blown my load, but a trail of clear fluid drips down my shaft, only for Katrina to lick it up. 

“I d-don’t know,” I stammer, enchanted by her sweet lips and every movement of her hand. 

“Give it a try, then” Katrina challenges me. “See if it rolls off the tongue.”

I purse my lips and self-consciously push the word out, “M-mommy…”

It comes out softly, barely audible, without a lick of confidence behind it, but when I expect embarrassment, I feel an odd sense of comfort, made worse by the gentle hand stroking through my hair, pushing it back. Katrina’s soft lips press against my forehead.

“What do you think?” she asks, “Want Mommy to take care of you?”

I bite my lip and nod, looking at Katrina, unable to take my eyes off her. I beg, “Please, Mommy.”

She sits in the space between my legs, and her hand starts to stroke me again. She leans down to kiss my tip, and I’m putty in her hands. “Mommy is gonna be so good to you. I want you to come so much for me, but I need you to be patient. Can you do that for me?”

“I promise, Mommy.”

“That’s the spirit,” she says, letting spit dribble down onto my dick before rubbing me slowly. “You’ve been so, so, so good and patient this whole time, so I want you to focus on feeling good.”

I nod, and Katrina speeds up. My breath picks up, and I buck into her hand.

“I’m gonna count down from ten, love, but you cannot come before that.” The sternness in her voice leaves my neck covered in goosebumps. “Mommy will make you feel good, but you have to earn it. Can you be a good boy for me?”

I’m ashamed by how much I like the sound of that, and I agree, nodding hard. “Yes, Mommy.”

Katrina counts down from ten, and her pace is hardly consistent. I’m left waiting after a count, and every time I whine, she starts over. There’s a slight satisfaction in her sneer, and the way she looks at me through eyes curled up in joy makes me melt. I lose track of how many times she’s started over from ten. 

I pulse in her hand, and when I press into her closed fist, she loosens her grip, and I’m left humping into her, bucking wildly. It’s mind-blowing how different this is from jerking off. To relinquish control to this degree is something I never imagined I’d be doing, but I’m having the time of my life.

I learned my lesson, keeping my body in check, not being greedy, and not complaining. Katrina rewards me graciously, and we finally reached all the way down to three. With release on my mind. I hold my tongue, only letting out an agonizing groan.

“Two,” she counts, and her hand speeds up, thumb flicking over the bottom of my tip. A finger presses against my taint, and as she prods further back, I widen my legs, ready to welcome her touch. I don’t care anymore. I just wanna feel good.

I bite my tongue, stifling any words that may escape, but one slips past against my better judgment. A name: “Kat–”

Before she can reach one, she lets go, and I shoot a rope across my stomach, pressing my palm to my face, still throbbing and twitching. I want to beg for her touch, so she can milk me for the rest, but I know better.

My heart sinks when I look at Katrina. I expect anger, but instead it’s disappointment. A corner of her lips curls up for a split second, but her mouth falls flat. A single hum from her has me spouting apologies. Guilt eats up at me, and the fact that Katrina says nothing has my heart ready to burst through my chest. 

“Who’s the one making you feel good right now?” Katrina asks. I’m petrified by her sharp tone, but her saddened eyes ignite to show me the fire from before. “So I only want you to think about Mommy.” 

“Sorry, Mommy,” I apologize, and my eyes widen when Katrina quickly removes her panties and straddles my hips. When she lowers herself onto me, I wince, and I feel her stretch to take me. I’m drowning her in wetness, and my hands grip the top of her thighs. 

“You feel so good, love,” Katrina huffs. She pins my wrists by my head, and her hips roll to grind against me. Her breaths are heavy and long, and there’s a twitch of her lips that resembles a smile. “Don’t come yet, love. Last for Mommy. Mommy wants to come on you.”

I don’t know how much I can hold out for, but I grip her, pushing as deep as I can. I feel her clench around me, and I pull her down to meet my lips, melting when I feel her tongue pass through my lips. Shallow thrusts are my attempt to aid her pleasure while not rushing through my own.

Katrina tugs my hair to pull my lips from her, and she locks her eyes with mine. “Tell Mommy she's all you need.”

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else,” I whimper. Heat builds at the base of my cock, and I writhe beneath her to hold back. “Oh, fuck.”

Katrina slams her hips down against me, grinding and rolling, and her voice grows shaky. Still, she pushes through it, not letting the pleasure crumble her power over me. After a flurry of fervent moans, her voice is husky. “Tell me you love Mommy.”

I search Katrina‘s eyes. Charged, unwavering, filled with an undeniable heat, contrasted by the angle of her brows, cold and disconnected. Still, I follow the fire burning inside me, unable to tell if its source is my chest or my core. I pull her down to me and before her lips crash, I say, resolutely, “I love you.”

Each word holds weight. There's a softening in Katrina's eyes and a quiver in her mouth. 

Katrina whines, and her arms wrap around me, holding me to her. Her lips are shaky, whimpering against mine as she comes, and her hips speed up, slowly losing control, forcing sharp moans from her mouth.

Her body gives out, and I hastily roll her onto her back, driving my hips deep to bury myself in her. Thighs slam against ass cheeks, and her walls hug around me.  I’m cursing out loud, doing everything in my power to hold back. 

“Such a good boy,” Katrina tells me breathily, throwing her arms behind my neck to pull me down. Our foreheads meet, and she stares into my eyes, nodding. “It's time for your reward. Fill me up…fill Mommy up.”

Heels digging into my back, keeping me inside, and my vision is nothing but white when I spill into her. The joy of my earned relief has me sobbing into the crook of her neck, and I fall slack as she rubs the back of my head, calming the quakes of my body. 

I pull out slowly, astounded by how much leaks out of Katrina, and I collapse at her side, pushing my hair back, staring at the ceiling. With a nervous laugh, I look at her. “That thing about love—”

“We don’t have to bring feelings into this,” Katrina says, interrupting me with a finger across my lips. She exhales sharply, ready to melt into the mattress.  “I’m going to need to hop into the shower after that.”

“Let me join you,” I say, springing up, ready to start the 
water for her. One of her hands on top of mine tells me to not move.

“You should… probably go back to your room, now,” Katrina says. Her smile is polite, not the toothy grin I'd just learned to hold dear. 

My heart sinks, and I stare at my pile of clothes on the ground. Katrina did say from the beginning that this was all for me to get over my heartbreak, but her sending me away feels like a fresh wound. “Sure, yeah.”

Katrina laughs and continues, “Maybe I should’ve been more clear. Go to your room, pack your bags, make sure you have everything, and bring it all back here. I'm not done with you for the night.” 

My face heats up, and I fish my clothes off the ground, practically jumping into them. She gets up, tracing a finger across my bare chest as she walks past me, and I admire her ass while she meanders to the bathroom. 

The water starts, and I hear her call out to me. “Hey, Joshua?” 

I don't bother with my tie, and I hook my blazer over my shoulder, leaning agaisnt the doorway. “Yes?” 

“Was that okay?” Katrina asks. Her palms are on the counter, and she's starting at herself in the mirror, until her eyes move to meet mine through the reflection. “I didn't cross a line or anything, did I? Or make things weird?”

“No, oh no. Definitely not,” I assure, hugging her from behind. Her hands rest over mine, and she nuzzles against my face. “I promise, Katrina Bautista.” 

She laughs lightly before kissing my cheek. “Didn't I tell you earlier that just Katrina is fine?”

I promise to be get better about that. 

Written for image 13 for the June contest! 

~

“Hey,” Darren greets Taylor with clenched fists, standing by the couch, clad in nothing but a pair of boxers.

Taylor lowers the volume of the TV, and looks towards him, smugly. “What’s up, babe? You okay?” 

“Can I get my hoodie back?” he asks. His foot taps impatiently, as if he knows she won’t make this easy (he’s right). Silence stretches on for too long, and he sighs, continuing, “I’d like to wear it to work.”

“You would steal a hoodie from your girlfriend?” Taylor says with a pout, sticking out her bottom lip.

“Er, yeah. It’s my hoodie,” Darren says, trying to hide his laugh. He’s at least somewhat amused, and that’s a good thing, but Taylor is set on changing that. 

“But it’s so comfy.” The last syllable stretches out, and Taylor gets an unholy amount of satisfaction seeing Darren’s brows furrow slowly with each second that passes. “And I’ll be cold if I take it off…I’m not wearing anything under it.”

He’s not phased (not on his face, anyway), but Taylor’s gaze flits down to a growing bulge in his boxers. Darren shifts in place, clearing his throat, and Taylor swears she can hear the reluctance in his voice. “C’mon, I’m gonna be late.” 

“Nope,” Taylor teases, pulling the hoodie strings taut and tying a knot. The hood obscures her vision, but she just knows Darren is rolling his eyes. She chants playfully, tapping the remote against her ass to the tempo of her staccato cadence, “Pay. The. Tax. Pay. The. Tax.” 

“What do you want?” Darren’s voice is filled with defeat. “I’ll trade you for a blanket. Easy. No more cold. Just as comfy.” 

“But it won’t smell like you.” Taylor shakes her head, grinning wider when she hears a muffled sigh. Darren’s face has to be in his palms. “I want a kiss.” 

Heavy footsteps make their way to the front of the couch, and Taylor feels a quick, chaste kiss against her lips. Her heart flutters at how easily he gives in, but she has a better idea. Widening her legs, she pulls the bottom of Darren’s hoodie up, flashing  “Not there…”

A fresh shave was the right decision last night. Darren doesn’t respond, instead gulping loudly. His breath pauses, just for a moment, and it’s enough for Taylor to feel a small sense of victory. He speaks, but Taylor doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince her or himself: “I…don’t have time for that. Taylor.” 

The way he says her name is stern, and Taylor loves it. She shrugs, and the remote falls to the couch when a firm grasp on her thighs pulls her to the edge of the couch. “Oh!” 

Darren’s hands on her back ease her up, and he unties the knot of the hoodie string, tugging at the end with his teeth. The hood loosens around Taylor’s head, and when Darren pulls it off, she’s delighted by the fiery gaze in his eyes. 

A tug on Taylor’s curly locks forces a sharp gasp and grin to match. Darren’s the most patient man she knows. He puts up with her shenanigans, and Taylor feels so comfortable being her silly self without the fear of rejection or annoyance. But everyone’s patience has a limit. 

He’s rougher when Taylor gets on his nerves. They’d talked about it plenty; he always feels guilty, but Taylor welcomes it. Craves it, even. Rough hands hold her head, and he kisses her deeply. Taylor’s lips part, begging for his tongue, and she muffles a moan when he gives it to her. 

“Not there,” Taylor repeats, growling against Darren’s ear and nibbling at his lobe. His sharp breath is a treat. “Try again.” 

Taylor moans when eager teeth bite her neck, pinching the thin skin between his teeth. She tugs on his hair. Hard. Not pulling him away because she wants him to stop, but to see his resolve. His appetite is apparent when he takes another chomp, sucking against the skin, and Taylor shudders. Taylor shakes her head, forcing a grin to at least maintain the illusion of control. 

Darren pulls down the neckline of his hoodie, and a deep sigh against Taylor’s clavicle fills her with anticipation. Soft lips pepper kisses along her collarbone, and he peeks up at her. The fire in his eyes dims when he squints. “Still no, huh?” 

After Taylor shakes her head again, fingertips tickle her stomach as he pushes the hoodie up her torso. Just when she expects he’s trying to pull a fast one and deny her gratification, the hem of the sweater rests above her breasts, and he takes one in each hand, massaging them gently. 

Darren stares at the mounds, fixated on the way they knead in his hands. He loves Taylor’s breasts, even if she doesn’t think they’re all that. He curses to himself, and Taylor joins him when he takes a nipple into his mouth. Tender kisses turn into bites between bated breaths. He moves to the other nipple, giving it some love with eager licks and smooches.

His hands move to Taylor’s waist, holding her curves with care and love, and his mouth settles between Taylor’s breasts. Each kiss that follows trails down, inch by inch, and she’s squirming in his grasp. 

It’s her turn to be impatient. She whimpers between sharp exhales through her nose. There goes the upper hand. Darren impressed her. “I thought you said you didn’t have time.”

“I’ll make time for you,” he assures, kissing softly against her naval. It tickles, and her hands find his hair again, shaking as they struggle to push him further down. “Why are you teasing me?”

He laughs to himself. “So you can dish it out, but you can’t take it. That’s rich.”

“Shut up,” Taylor whines. “You know what I want, so just give it to me already, or you’re not getting your hoodie back.”

“Suit yourself. I have other hoodies I can wear.” Darren stands up, but a grasp on his wrist keeps him in place. That smile of his is so smug. 

“Please,” Taylor begs. “If you’re gone all day, who’s gonna fuck me when I’m horny?”

“Didn’t we buy you fancy new toys for that exact reason?” Darren asks.

Taylor pulls him down by the neck, and desperate lips steal a few kisses. “Please, baby. I wanna feel your mouth on me. Just for a little bit.”

“Okay,” he says sing-songly, pulling her by the back of her knees until her ass is on top of the armrest. A strong hand pushes her down against the couch, and he spreads her knees apart.

Taylor is giddy in anticipation. Her hips are already grinding against the air where she needs Darren to be. She watches Darren, and her eyes widen with every inch closer he moves to her eager slit. His thumb swipes along her wet folds, and his breath is hot, only stoking the heat deep inside her. 

His eyes travel up to meet Taylor's. “Tell me how much you want it.” 

Coherent thoughts are not possible when his thumb teases her entrance as slowly as he does. One more ace up Taylor’s sleeve is a last resort to get Darren riled up. “So bad that if you don’t make me come before you go to work, I’ll…just text one of your coworkers. Doesn’t…Mark have the day off today?” 

Darren sucks his teeth, and the angle of his brows sharpens. Taylor worries she’s overstepped or been a bit too mean, but it feels like it’s just the push Darren needed.  She asked for a kiss–down there–and he delivers. His lips meet her lower set, and he offers her a generous amount of tongue, licking up every crease and crevice.

Taylor’s nails scratch at the upholstery, and her back arches off the couch to grind against his face. Darren settles his hand at the top of Taylor’s thigh, in the fold between her stomach and leg, while the other holds her waist. He’s intent on controlling the pace. Whether he’s putting Taylor in her place or showing her that she doesn’t need to text his coworkers, it doesn’t matter.

Taylor just needs him to keep going. 

Her breath rises with every lap against her clit. His flattened tongue traces her with every calculated stroke, licking as much of her as he can, slurping up what juices leak out. The slight angle of Taylor’s body leaves blood rushing to her head, and it only heightens the arousal. His fingers dig into plump flesh, and when his tongue flicks over her swollen bud, she’s about ready to burst. 

“Daren…baby…fuck…please…” Every word comes out as a plea. Her eyes widen when she feels two fingers stretch her, easing in to press against her sweet spot. Fingertips flick and rub against the spot to match his tongue’s tempo. Taylor’s palms find her face, and her body wants to twist and turn to Darren’s touch, but the best she can do is arch off the couch. A whine slips through gritted teeth until it explodes into a sharp cry. 

Darren loosens his hold on Taylor, and her body writhes in response, grinding against his face when she grabs his hair. After she lets go, panting, there’s a glimpse of Darren standing and walking away.

“Babe!” Taylor calls out, still catching her breath. “You forgot the hoodie!”

The sound of footsteps echoes in the hall, and she expects him to be mostly dressed, ready to bolt out the door. But that’s not the case. He’s naked, giving Taylor a full view of his stocky build, and his cock is ready.

She looks at his hand to see a bottle of lube, and heat returns to her legs. “What’s that for?”

Darren kisses her softly, and it deepens before long. He pulls away, sighing. “Threatening to call up my buddy? That’s not very nice.” 

“I was bad, wasn’t I?” Taylor says. She reaches down to stroke Darren, spreading pre-cum along his tip. Darren shudders, but bites his lip. She’s ready to lie down and hang her head off the couch’s armrest. “You wanna punish me? You can fuck my throat–”

With a grin, he pulls her off the couch, settling her to land on her feet, and his fingers turn her around and bend her over the couch. Taylor smiles against the couch cushion, looking at Darren over her shoulder. She gets up on her tiptoes and presses her slit against his hardness. 

“How about I remind you why you love this dick?” Darren suggests, and fingers against Taylor’s slit hitches her breath. A finger tip travels past her entrance, tracing over a tight hole. “Unless…you want this instead.” 

Taylor can’t smile wide enough. She nods against the couch, and a hand spreads a cheek away to flash her hole to Darren. “Show me how bad I’ve been…”

A cold spurt of lube drips onto her hole, and she smiles through shallow breaths, feeling a fingertip spread it and work its way in to breach her. Taylor gasps as she takes more of Darren’s finger. Deep breaths help her adjust and accommodate, and she clenches at Darren’s absence. Another squirt follows, and his finger eases in much more smoothly this time. 

Taylor can’t wait for his cock. 

She splays a knee up onto the couch to give her boyfriend more access, and the press of his firm tip at her entrance leaves her dripping. Snaking a hand beneath her, her fingers rub her clit, slowly to build her back up. Darren moves slowly, pushing past her ring, and a sharp breath escapes Taylor as she digs her forehead against the couch.

Gentle hands pet her waist and her luscious ass. Darren assures her, “Just like that, baby. You’ve got it, don’t worry.” 

Taylor pushes out a breath, relaxing her muscles, grinning as she takes more of Darren. She swallows hard, and courage lets her press back against him. Every inch stretches her ever so slightly, and she lets out a sigh of relief when she feels his hips against her ass. 

A kiss on her nape spreads warmth through her chest, and she reaches for the back of Darren’s head, kissing him sweetly. She smiles, licking her lips. “I thought you were gonna punish me.” 

“It’s been a while since we did anal. Just want to make sure you’re doing okay,” he assures, kissing her forehead. 

“I am,” Taylor promises, closing her eyes and nuzzling the tip of her nose against him. “I can take it.” 

A high moan escapes when Darren pulls out halfway and slams back into her. She pants, enjoying the growing fuzziness in her head. Looking back at Darren, she nods, and the tightening of his grip on her waist tells her to brace herself. 

Darren offers a few hard strokes, and the clap of the bodies echoes around the room. That fast pace tells Taylor just how badly Darren wants her. Unrelenting, just like she wants it. She works her clit, following his pace, and slow circles speed up to rapid, round rubs. 

His hands pin her against the couch, and every forceful thrust drives Taylor deeper into the couch cushions. She feels the ripple of her cheeks whenever Darren slams into her. Her fingers speed up, and she clenches her jaw, slamming her eyes shut. “Fuck, that’s good.” 

“You like that?” Darren asks, and Taylor whimpers with a nod. His palm strikes her ass. It’s a gentle hit; he could’ve slapped it harder, but it gets its point across. The slight sting is an additional fuel to her fire. “Tell me this cock is all you need.” 

Taylor bites her lip, holding her tongue, allowing the silence after Darren’s question to stretch on. A glance towards him, and the sound of him huffing makes Taylor drip with excitement. Darren pushes harder, and the grunts that follow every thrust are music to her ears. She can count on one hand how many strokes it takes her to come. 

A few more flicks along her bud send her overboard, and her screams of pleasure are muffled against the couch cushion. Taylor’s head spins, and elation stretches her mouth wide. When the tremors calm down, she answers Darren at last, “Yes, baby. No one makes me come like you.” 

Darren twitches inside her, and Taylor can’t tell if it’s timing from her answer or a sign he’s ready to blow. She throws her ass back at him, loving the way he fills her. He groans sharply, “I’m so close…”

“Fuck, babe. Shoot it deep inside me and make me yours,” Taylor tells him, moaning as she spreads her cheeks apart. She wants to feel him throb inside her. She wants his cum to leak out of her tight hole. She just wants him. 

He pistons in and out of her, rolling her eyes back, and she calls his name, begging for his cum. Darren’s tip pulses against her walls, and Taylor braces herself for the last few deep strokes that would fill her up. 

Her smile fades when hands flat against her ass keep her pressed against the couch as Darren slowly eases out. She looks back towards him, and her eyes plead with him as he strokes himself above her. 

“I’d fill you up if you were a good girl,” Darren tells her through grunts, and he curses, shooting a poorly aimed rope towards her gape. The spurts shoot up her back, and she feels the warm pools on her skin. “Oh, fuck.”

His tone is flatter than Taylor expects, and she looks up at Darren, raising a brow. “Everything okay?”

“Got a little on your hair,” Darren admits sheepishly, grabbing some tissue to wipe her back clean. “...and my hoodie.”

“All that trouble over a hoodie, and you don’t even get to wear it.”  Taylor covers her mouth, stifling a laugh. She looks at the clock, and her eyes widen when she sees the time. “I made you late.” 

Darren shakes his head. “I texted my boss to say I’m taking a personal day.”

Taylor’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yeah, you just looked so comfy lounging around, and I thought it might be nice to join you,” he tells her. 

She doesn’t respond right away, and she lets the silence ruminate for a moment’s longer. “You want to spend the day fucking, don’t you?” 

“I won’t say yes, but–”

Taylor rolls her eyes, hiding a smile as she plops back down on the sofa. Clasped hands, a tilted head, and an innocent smile preface a request. “Since you’re home all day, can you make me breakfast? Pretty please?”

“Was already going to,” Darren says, halfway to the kitchen already. He digs through the fridge for ingredients. A fit of laughter washes over him. “Also, who’s Mark?” 

“From sales?”

“That’s Marcus.”

“I forgot his name and panicked!” Taylor admits, blushing when Darren laughs loudly. She turns off the TV and walks into the kitchen, hugging him from behind. “Just so you know, I don’t actually have eyes for your coworkers.” 

“I know, don't worry." Darren smiles, turning around to kiss her forehead and hug Taylor tightly. “I know you love to get a reaction out of me, but it usually makes for some great sex. Sure, you’re a brat, but you’re my brat, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.” 

Written for image 13 for the May contest (I guess I had one more in me), but the flare is gone haha

~

I hate him. 

My coworker Finn is so dang smug all the time. He’s obsessed with banter and doing “bits” with me. I’m convinced he doesn’t believe in regular conversations. Not with me anyway. It's always incessant teasing. Ugh. 

It’s cruel irony that we both get sent to the conference in Las Vegas—one of the more important industry events our company participates in. What’s worse is that our plane seats are next to each other. If the company didn’t cheap out on seats, I would I’ve upgraded to be as far from him as possible. 

I hate flying. 

It’s irrational, I know. Finn drones on about how cars are statistically more dangerous, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. It’s not just the dread, but everything is so cramped. We fight for the armrest, and his knee is butt-up against mine. 

The middle of the flight is nothing but violent turbulence, and it makes my stomach churn. Shallow breaths barely keep me conscious, and I strip off my hoodie, fanning myself with the safety brochure. My other hand pinches the airsickness bag in my seat’s pocket, and sweat beads on my forehead. 

After some medicine from the flight attendant, I want nothing more than to not be awake. My head droops slowly, landing in Finn’s shoulder. I fight for the armrest; I’m sick and I think I should get priority, after all. 

What kind of armrest is warm and has fingers? Weird. 

I hate that I find it comforting. 

~ 

I hate unexpected changes in plans. 

I’m arguing with the employee at the front desk, and Finn inserts himself in, thinking he can help (of course he does). After a sigh, I give him the sparknotes version: a broken pipe caused issues with our reservations. 

Some back-and-forth, and I cool down. Finn asks for a compromise, and the best the hotel can do is upgrade us to a room on the upper floors. No extra charge. 

Not a bad solution, but I have one issue: it’s only one room. 

I hate this sleeping situation. 

Just one bed. Finn and I share an awkward look, and he assures me there has to be a way to fix it. He dials the front desk, asking for a rollout bed, but a fully-booked hotel makes for a lack of options. 

He grimaces as he puts the phone on the hook, assuring me, “I’ll sleep on the floor. I’m sure they can swing some blankets, at least.” 

I hate public speaking. 

After some takeout—the last thing I want is a dinner with just Finn and me—I’m studying my flashcards, reviewing my talking points, and reciting them in the mirror. 

Finn chuckles from the recliner in the corner of the room, and I shoot him a dirty look. 

“You really don’t have anything to worry about,” he says nonchalantly. “You’re here because you’re the very best of us. If anything, I don’t know why I’m here.” 

“I get in my head a lot,” I admit. “Being the first presentation of the day one is unnerving. We’re usually day two or three of the conference.”   

“They don’t finalize the speaking order, right? How about I speak first? I’ll warm up the crowd and you can bring it home.” 

I raise a brow, but smile gratefully, “Deal.”

~ 

I hate being late. 

The hotel phone rings, and Finn sits up sluggishly, rubbing his eyes. “El? Yo, El…El….Elana!”

I yawn, stretching my arms above me, and answer the phone, putting it on speakerphone. 

“This is your morning wake up call, as requested.” 

“Thank you so much.” I hang up, and Finn looks at me before gazing at the clock. 

“It is 4:30 in the morning. You asked for this?” he groans. “We were up until midnight practicing your presentation!” 

He covers his face with the blanket, but peeks when he hears the room’s coffee machine bubble. “There’re gonna charge that to the room, you know?”

“Well, if work is only paying for one room this time, they can afford some coffee,” I say, smiling.

“I didn’t know you had a rebellious side,” Finn says with a grin. “Can you make one for me too?” 

~ 

I hate that his charisma works on just about anyone. 

Making him the first speaker was the right choice. He’s casual and lax, but it makes his material approachable. A few quips and jokes sprinkled in, and the audience is engaged. 

He even earns a laugh from me.

After his present ion is over, I take a deep breath, straightening my cue cards, and he rests a hand in my shoulder, leaning in to whisper, 

“You’re gonna do great. I know it.” 

I hate that his words give me courage.

I deliver the presentation of my life. Nailing every point, I manage to keep everyone’s attention. My eyes keep going back to Finn, who has the biggest grin on his face. 

After a roar of applause, I take my seat next to Finn. He nudges me with his knee, and his voice tickles my ear: 

“Told you.” His knees stays against mine, and I do nothing to move away.

~ 

I hate unwanted advances. 

The silver lining of the first day is the cocktail hour for all of the presenters. It’s a good place to mingle and network, and I stop by the bar with some cash in hand. 

A man approaches me, making small talk, and I stare at mojito then back at Finn. The man isn’t getting the hint. I’m not interested. The pretense of complimenting my presentation is sweet, but his lecherous gaze at my chest reveals his true intentions. 

I squirm in place, but a touch on the small of my back tenses my body. 

It’s Finn, thankfully, and he stands between me and the stranger. “Hey, honey, did you get my whiskey sour?”

“Umm…no?” I respond. I don’t do a great job of selling it, but the man nods and walks away. My mouth curves into a nervous smile. “Thanks. Sorry to pull you away from the lady you were chatting up. You two look like you were hitting it off.” 

“She’s very forward,” Finn says, scratching the back of his head. “But I said I’d ask my colleague if we have plans tonight. Do we? Have plans, I mean.” 

“We could,” I say, open to the idea. 

“I’d suggest dinner, but you’d probably say no—“

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s do dinner,” I say, not daring to meet his eyes. I fiddle with the cuff of his blazer and take a sip of my drink. 

~ 

I hate that I don’t hate this.

“It’s a shame we didn’t get the second room,” I say, twirling pasta with my fork. The night has been good. Finn and I tear our way through three rounds of free bread, but our food is out finally. 

“Why’s that?” Finn asks, mouth full of steak. 

“Well, no bed for you, for one,” I say with a giggle, “and you can’t invite that woman from the exhibitors party to your room.” 

Finn laughs louder than I expect, and he shakes my head. “I’m not really up for hooking up on these work trips.” 

His face shifts when he looks at mine. “Er, not with strangers, anyway.” 

“Agreed,” I say after slurping up some noodles. “The guys I meet here are surprisingly less kinky than I’d anticipate.”

Finn nearly chokes on his water, and a few pounds of his fist to his chest help settle him. “No kidding? I’m guessing your checked bag is filled with whips and cuffs?” 

“Not my thing,” I say with a brief grin. “I promised to wake a guy up with blowjob once, and he just…wasn’t into it.”

“That’s like complaining your steak is too juicy,” Finn says, stabbing a piece with his fork and holding it across the table. “Try this, by the way.”

After a bite, my eyes must light up by the way Finn smiles. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Wanna switch?”

“Nooo,” I say sheepishly, staring at my food. It’s tempting. “My food’s fine.” 

“But is it as good as my steak?” Finn asks with a smug grin. After shaking my head, he swaps our plates.

I continue our conversation from before, “I get why he didn’t want it though. It boils down to a matter of consent and all.”

“Isn’t it fine if you two discuss it beforehand?” Finn asks with a shrug. 

“Technically, yeah, as practicing partners will attest. Some guys are more rigid than that, and that's fine,” I say, helping myself to another bite of steak. I’m glad Finn proposed the switch, and it seems like he’s enjoying my food as well. 

“If it were me,” Finn starts, “I wouldn’t think twice. Plenty of guys dream of being woken up like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

He blushes, “I’m not insinuating that we should,  I just—”

“I get it, Finn.” A light laugh reassures him.

I hate that I’m considering it now. 

~

I hate overeating usually, but dinner was so worth it. 

When we get to the hotel, I offer him the chance to shower first. I rub my stomach, needing some time to digest. 

He shuts the door behind him, and I take a seat on the recliner, turning in the TV. The sound of the shower running kickstarts my imagination. Light shines through the crack in the bathroom door. 

I think of Finn’s naked body, water dripping down, with his hair plastered against his face. I conjecture what kind of build he has, and what he’s got hanging between his legs. Shamelessly, my fingers slide down between my legs. I touch myself, closing my eyes, imagining that my hands were his instead. 

I have to be quick if I want to be discreet. Part of me wonders how Finn would respond if he caught me like this. Fast fingers bring forth a modest release, but it loosens the pent-up tension. 

I hate that I’m disappointed when he doesn’t walk out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, instead fully dressed in his shirt and house shorts. 

~

By the time I’m done with my shower, Finn is cross-legged on his freshly-made blankets on the floor, readying himself for slumber. 

I sit at the corner of the bed, looking down at him. “Hey…do you wanna sleep in the bed instead?” 

“If this is about switching food earlier, you don’t have to return the favor,,” Finn jokes. “The carbonara was good! I think some scallops would’ve made the dish.” 

“No, you can sleep in the bed too. It’s big enough, you know?” I say shyly. “Just…stay on your side.”

“Uh, sure,” Finn agrees. He turns off the lights, and I barely catch his form take his place at opposite the edge of the bed. 

It’s quiet. I usually expect him to have something smart to say. The bed shifts. I feel every one of his movements, and I’m sure the opposite is true. I scooch closer and thread an arm under him, holding his torso close to mine. A shaky breath from me warms a spot on his back. 

“What happened to staying on my side?” 

“I changed my mind,” I mutter, freezing when he turns to face me. After moving an inch closer, I’m in his arms, tucking my head under his chin. “I’m…really glad you ended up being the one to come here with me. I know you said you don’t hooking up on these trips, but…I’d really like to kiss you.” 

I look up at him, and his hand moves behind my head. Finn moves closer, and I close my eyes. His words tickle my lips: “I said I don’t hook up with strangers.” 

Our lips meet, pressing softly against each other. Short, shallow breaths escape as I lick my lips, and I lean in for another. A sharp exhale against him, and our hands grasp the other. 

I roll onto my back, and Finn follows me. His hips press into me, and I grind against him in response. More kisses follow, and I’m pulling his hair. With a grin, I tell him, “We can do more than kiss, by the way. If you want.” 

Finn hesitates, staring at the clock, and he sighs. “We should…probably get some rest. Today was a long day, and we’re still getting used to the time difference.”

“Yeah, sure.” Masking my disappointment doesn’t go as planned, and he rolls over beside me, draping an arm over my body. I turn away, and back up against him, assured when he holds me tighter. “Finn?” 

“Yeah, El.” 

“When you said you wouldn’t mind being woken up with a blowjob, you meant it, right?” 

“Yeah,” he tells me, and mirth is present in his voice. “Why? Are you offering?” 

I blush and nod. “I’m not making any promises. I just have a history of…getting horny in the middle of the night.”

“If you need to rub one out next to me, be my guest. Include me if you want, too, El. I trust you.” His arms tighten around my stomach and he takes a sniff of my hair. 

I hate just how easily I fall asleep like this. 

~

I wake up to poking against my rear. Shifting in place, I roll to my back, and Finn holds me tightly, mumbling incoherently in his sleep. 

That imprint pressing against my backside is more clues to the puzzle. He’s a fun size, for sure. I shed my shorts and work my fingers down under my ornate panties. 

I hate that he didn’t get to see them before we fell asleep. 

Rubbing my clit, I stifle my moans, reducing them to breathy exhales. My hips roll into my hands, and I’m grinning at the thought of feeling Finn finally. A sharp moan escapes, and I cover my mouth, but Finn doesn’t stir. 

His hand rests at the hem of my t-shirt. I so desperately want his touch, and practically pray he'll wake to take matters into his own hands. Even when my hips buck, his arm is limp over me, like dead weight.

My fingers speed up, and I call out his name, suddenly not caring if he wakes. There’s a tightening in my stomach that floods my body with warmth when it releases, and an ecstatic grin stretches across my face. 

I hate that this isn’t enough. 

He’s still hard. I rub him over his shorts, and the thin fabric does nothing to hide him. Every glide spurs a soft groan that slips past his lips, and in no time, I have to pull his bottoms down. 

Finn throbs when I wrap around him, and offer him a few strokes. His body writhes in my touch, and his fingers twitch. Licking my lips, I wrap my mouth around him, and take as much as I can. I bob my head, slurping with each pass down his dick. 

He tastes really good, and I find my eyes closing, enjoying this more than I’d expect. I pop up for a breath, and stroke him; my hands glide so easily when he’s covered in my slobber. 

I take him into my mouth again, pushing him deep into my throat. Finn shifts in my peripherals, and I see his eyes flit open. 

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “You look so pretty sucking me off like that.”

I hate that that encourages me to suck him harder. 

But that can wait, just for a little. I bite my lip. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” He smiles. His eyes travel down to his cock, soaked in spit. 

“That was okay, though, right?” I ask. “I got ahead of myself, and you were hard, and—” 

“El, it was great.” Finn grabs my hand, and his thumb strokes my fingers. “But there was one thing…”

“Tell me. Anything,” I say, searching his face. 

“Why'd you stop?” he asks with a chuckle, wincing when I shove him playfully back down to the bed. Finn grins. “It was just getting good, too.” 

“Just you wait,” I mutter. It’s a challenge, if I've ever heard one. I wrap around his base and stroke the bottom half of his cock, while my lips travel along the top. Finn grabs the sheets, desperately pushing deeper into my mouth. 

It was fun to play with him in his sleep, but truthfully, I like this better. I can see every reaction, and he's vocal. Certainly not shy, at all. When my lips touch his trunk, he's inconsolable, cursing.

I get off him to breathe, and he tugs me to him, licking slobber off my chin before kissing me deeply. My boldness returns. “Let me ride you.”

“Condom?” 

“No time,” I say, shaking my head. I sure didn’t pack any. “I’m on the pill if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

I fish my panties off, and toss my shirt off the bed. Finn helps me onto him, hands wandering up to grasp my breast. Thumbs graze over my nipples, hardening them, and I shudder. 

Even just the graze of his tip along my entrance makes me moan. I reach down to angle us correctly before plummeting down onto him. “Oh. My. God.”

His length is fine, but I underestimate how thick he is. Modest, bounces help me acclimate to him, and his grip on my breasts tighten while he pushes into me. After swallowing hard, he asks me, “What about messing with guys who are asleep does it for you? Is it a power thing?” 

“Maybe a little?” I answer. “The power aspect is there, but that’s worthless if I don’t have the trust from the other person. It’s a vulnerable thing, offering your body in a situation you can’t really tear away from, and I don’t take that lightly. What about you? What do you get?”

“Besides head that’s out-of-this-world? The satisfaction of knowing you need me so badly that you can’t wait for me to wake up,” Finn says with a smirk. He breathes sharply, and his hips pound deeper, clapping against me with a harsh slam. 

“Shut up,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Always such a smartass.” 

“Speaking of, how is any of this happening,” he motions between us. “I thought you hated my guts.” 

I focus on bouncing, meeting his upward thrusts in the middle. Words slip through past moans. “I….fuck…changed…my mind.” 

His hands move to my waist, and he speeds up, stroking harder, pressing against my favorite spot. There’s no hope in stifling my cries; they slip out involuntarily. One of his hands traces down my thigh, slipping between my legs, and his thumb circles my clit. 

I hate that he doesn’t play fair.

Finn slams my sensitive spot with ever powerful thrusts. I can feel his eagerness in the way his fingers dig into my flesh. Rapid circles surpass his pace, and each of my breaths that follow are short and sweet. “Fuck…Finn…I’m—“

My teeth grit, and my lids slam shut as I groan, grinding against him. Husky moans, long and drawn-out, leave with desperate heaves, and my whole body tingles when I tighten around him, pulsing to every wave of pleasure he milks from me. 

I nearly collapse forward, but strong hands join mine, and our fingers thread between each other. 

“You got one more in you?” Finn asks, pushing up, spurring a gentle aftershock through me. “I think you can do it.” 

I nod, grinning, feeling heat rush to my face. 

His grip on my hands tighten. “Good. Shit…I’m close, too. Together this time?” 

His hands reach up for me, gently easing me down towards him. My breasts squeeze between our bodies, and my nipples rub against his chest. I roll my hips, scooting along him, but I melt when he kisses me. 

God, he feels so good. But all I can focus on is how tender his lips are. I can feel just how much he wants me. Needs me, even. His arms wrap around me, holding me to him, and I whimper. I don’t even need to come again; this feeling of warmth washing over me is enough. 

I hate that I do, anyway. 

Pleasure passes through me. Violently. My eyes roll back, and I must be screaming from how hoarse my throat feels. Finn grunts, each thrust hitting harder than the last. I feel him shoot deep inside me, and I claw into his skin, milking him for more.  

Our bodies slow to a stop, and I stay down on his chest, giggling to myself, nuzzling into him. 

“What was that?” he asks in awe, staring up at me with the biggest smile as I sit up.

“That was your morning wake-up call, as requested,” I tell him, panting. Meeting his gaze, the warm blooming in my chest brings a smile to my face.

I hate that it took me so long to realize how gorgeous his deep, brown eyes are. 

Written for image 02 for the May contest! Last one for the month!

~

The Lover’s Woods earns its name with every anecdote. Followers of the local faiths refer to the god who protects it as Shimotsuyu. Shimotsuyu represents not just life itself, but creation–in all senses–as well. Lush foliage and plentiful flora flourish in the fertile soil of their domain.

Those who’ve passed through or taken a stroll through the forest often note a heightened sense of arousal. The specific cause is ambiguous at best, but the most common theories are that plants in the area release pollen that lowers inhibitions and makes the affected crave release. 

Whether the local legends are true or not, the outer bounds of the land are marked by a string of talismans surrounding the perimeters, scattered warnings, and the only ways in or out are the few, distinct, bright red torii gates. 

Every day, I pass one of the gates. Today is no different. 

A basket hangs loosely in the crook of my elbow, swinging with every step. I stay on the sidewalk as I do every day for my walks; I love the scenery, and now that the rainy season is over, I welcome the crisp, fresh air. 

Every day, I eye the forest, amazed by just how high the trees grow, as well as the ornate splendor of the gates. I’m happy to observe it from a distance, to not upset what spirits are buried deep in the heart of the woods. Today is different.

A presence calls out to me. Remnants of distant whispers. I look around, which no one in my vicinity. A distant chorus of moans, originating from the forest, stops me in my tracks. The wind blows stray leaves from behind me as if beckoning me to follow. 

Crunchy leaves roll and flow with the wind, and I reluctantly step towards them. My heart races as I walk past the strung paper talismans, and dread chokes my throat. The wind picks up, and I nearly stumble forward, speeding up my steps to keep pace. A canopy of trees above me are a pleasant view. Sunlight high in the sky seeps through the gaps of leaves and branches, scattering warm light across the forest floor.

Breathing grows difficult the longer I walk. It’s too early for fatigue; I’m not that out of shape. Clamminess clings to my skin. I tug at the neckline of my dress, astounded by just how much sweat soaks into it. A heat builds, deep inside of me, a few deep exhales are my best attempt to ignore it. My legs quiver with every step, and it’s a miracle they don’t give out under me.

Come closer. The wind carries a distant voice.

My head feels light. I’m dizzied by a growing arousal. It’s a pleasant trance, similar to the first two bottles of beer on a summer night. Every step is heavy against the ground. My sandals seem to dig deeper into the dirt as I trudge on.

I find a bed of flowers and drop my basket. The sandwiches I meant to eat in the park come to mind, but right this second, there’s a very different kind of hunger I need to appease, lest I drive myself insane.

The heat doesn’t let up; I wipe sweat off my brows and brush my bangs aside, only for them to fall back down and cling to my forehead. The wind stops suddenly, and the stillness is too quiet for my liking. I kick off my sandals, loving how the grass tickles my feet. 

The sound of wind sifting through the leaves is a hypnotic cadence. The wind traces over every inch of my exposed skin, cooling my sweat, and hardening my nipples through my dress. Every shift of the fabric makes it worse, and I feel goosebumps rise all around me.

I sit down in the flower bed, easing myself onto my back with my knees pointed high towards the trees. My legs spread, and my heels dig into the dirt beneath me. Lust this heavy has never hit me this hard before. I look around, ensuring I’m alone. One hand bunches the bottom of my dress up, and the one on my stomach twitches, anxious to move lower and address my growing desires. 

Welcome, young one. A voice booms. The voice is everywhere: echoing through the trees, sneaking in past the shift of the leaves, tickling my eardrums as a whisper. The voice is everything. Genderless. Gentle. Inviting. With gravitas, nonetheless. I reward all those who enter my realm.

I move my hand between my legs, and a jolt goes through my body when my fingertips touch my clit. A gasp exits through shaky lips.

Pleasure and goodness are one and the same, young one. If rest and relaxation should you require, I will grant it. Bliss awaits. Would one allow it?

My fingers graze over my bud to the rise and fall of the disembodied voice. Its gentle rhythm rocks me, calming me, and I melt into the Earth.

All I ask is that you indulge yourself completely. Fully. Give into the forest, and the forest will provide.

I nod to no one in particular, grinning as a single word escapes: “Yes…”

Pressure builds inside me, filling my reservoir, working me to my peak. A heavy sensation pulses in my diaphragm, and I push it out, aided by my lungs, and an elongated, breathy moan leaves my lips. Hearing my own voice slip out only heightens my arousal; there’s the added thrill of being discovered. The taboo of being so shameless outside of closed doors. My body presses against my hand, grinding.

I bite my bottom lip, my head turns back and forth, pressing into the forest floor. Blades of grass tickle my ears and neck, and I squirm to the sensation. A breeze passes over me, sending a shiver through my body, and my toes curl, pressing into soil.

Every husky moan I let out pushes warmth to fill every corner of my body. The branches above me sway to a mesmerizing pace. My fingers follow the back-and-forth swing. In time, that isn’t enough. My digits speed up, and I desperately chase release. 

I sit up, kneeling, and my leg spread. My hips roll, bucking against nothing but my fingers. Movement in the grass catches my eye. It’s the shadow of a hand, and I look up in vain to see nothing to match its silhouette. Like a snake, it slithers towards me. Hair on my nape stands on end, but not out of fear. I sense no malice from the figure, and my legs spread as if to invite it closer.

The shadow looms over me, and there’s no sensation to be had. I let my eyes flit closed, and my legs quiver at the feeling of nails against my thighs. Through a hitched breath, I peer down at my leg, tracing the source of the touch to the shadow cast over my body.

Does one find this acceptable? The voice calls out.

I nod and whisper, “More…”

Whether it is truly the touch of an ancient god, evil sorcery at work, or my imagination running rampant, it makes no difference. Desire drips from me, gathering on the grass below me like dew.

Tender squeezes of my thigh move higher until I feel a tickle along my slit. I struggled to comprehend the sensation, with no form or figure before me. Even still, there’s the distinct feeling of two fingers inside me, wiggling their way deeper, pressing against my walls.

A second shadowy hand travels up my torso, and my mouth curls up as the silhouette of long fingers reaches for my neck. I nod, accepting–no, begging–for the touch. My view blurs as the phantom hand squeezes the side of my neck. The touch, deep inside me, presses and curls harder, beckoning me closer to ecstasy.

I rock my hips forward and back, and loose straps slip off my shoulder.

Vines reveal themselves, peeking out through thick shrubbery from all directions. My arousal burns hot as they approach me. They make their presence known with gentle touches all around. A tickle on my soles. A slow trace up my spine. Soft pats against my shoulders, teasing the straps of my dress. My mind melts, trying to make sense of it all, but the voice answers my questions, as if connected to my very consciousness.

I am the forest. The forest is me. All life is connected. They tell me. Does one desire a deeper connection with nature and oneself?

“Yes,” I answer without thinking. The straps of my dress fall, and vines catch the fabric of my dress, easing down my body to leave me exposed. Tips, squeeze between my skin and the elastic of my underwear, and I lift my hips so they can be removed.

The vines slither along my body, coiling around me. My arms are pulled behind my back, forearms bound together tightly. Joined wrists are cuffed by the foliage, tugged to the ground, and forcing an arch to my back. Tendrils dig into my legs as my thighs lock against my calves, all while pulling my legs further apart. Another constricts around my neck, tighter than the shadowy hand earlier, and they bring such a thrill. 

My grin widens with every added sensation. A tickle from under me circles my tight hole, teasing and tracing over it. The slightest lean forward spreads my cheeks, welcoming the new touch.

My heart pounds, and the fire deep inside Stokes itself, rising higher and higher. I feel a third finger stretch me, easing in and out of me while tips press against my sweet spot. The second shadowy hand moves down to circle my clit, teasing it before flicking wildly.

I test the strength of the vines, struggling against it, delighted by the way it tugs back, keeping me down against the forest floor. My hips roll, and I plunge myself down onto the invisible fingers, and my moans climb higher with every deep thrust into me.

One must call out to me. The voice is a whisper against her ear. Surely, one knows my name.

“Shimotsuyu,” I whisper. I clasp hands behind my back as if in prayer, and with every time I say the god’s name, it’s a devotion. A promise of my body in exchange for pleasure.

More vines wrap around me, tying themselves into intricate knots and patterns. It fascinates me how easily breathing remains. Every happy exhale pitches into a high moan. 

The fingers inside of me speed up. It’s too much to handle. I spill over, writhing in place, grinding my hips in hope of milking more pleasure from the god. My body wants so desperately to keel over and cry out against the forest floor, but the vines’ hold is far too strong.

Shimotsuyu loosens their hold on me, and I collapse face-first. Clenched fists grasp at blades of grass and wildflowers. My chest heaves as I pant. The warmth that envelops me feels like a kiss from the sun, across every inch of my body.

My eyes close, and I drift off to sleep with a smile on my face. 

~

I wake up on my back, fully clothed in the flower bed I fell asleep in. Was it all a dream? Curious wander between my legs, and I feel a familiar wetness. Blushing to myself, I stand up and reach for my basket.

I follow the winding path to the torii gate that I entered from. After passing through it, the air thins, and I get an odd sense of refreshment. I reach into my basket for a sandwich and take a bite, stopping in place to look over my shoulder, back at the forest.

Perhaps there’s truth in the legends. Perhaps the arousal was my body’s way of saying that it’s been too long. But I know one thing for sure:

Today’s detour was unexpected, but it’s surely one I could make again in the future.