r/Erotica

I'm in a Discord call with my friend, we're playing a game together.

My game has barely started, when I hear a knock on the door. I ignore it at first, must've misheard. I'm sitting straight in my gaming chair, eyes locked to the screen, fingers tapping the keyboard rapidly and rhythmically.

Another knock on the door, louder this time. My eyes don't look away from the screen and my fingers don't leave the keyboard, but I am distracted for a second. Ah shit, my character died...

A third knock on the door, then I hear my name.

This gets my attention. I slid one ear of the headset off and glance toward the door, weighing my options. My character respawns. Bad timing.

"Door's open," I call, already turning back to my game.

Through the sounds of my game, I can hear the soft creak of the door opening and closing. Then I hear familiar footsteps walking up behind me. I see the shadow of his silhouette on my screen. I push my microphone away from my mouth, muting myself.

"Hi," I say, without turning away from my screen.

"You're kidding me," he says.

I smirk, still not looking away from the screen. "Bad timing."

"You told me to come over..."

"Didn't say I'd be done," I shoot back with a calm voice, in contrast to the chaos on the screen.

There is a silence behind me for a moment. I can hear his footsteps inching even closer to the back of my chair, and his silhouette on my screen growing bigger.

"You're seriously just going to keep playing?"

"Ranked match," I answer. "Need to win this one."

There is shift in the air. It's subtle, but noticeable. The kind that makes me aware of exactly where he is without turning around.

“You could at least look at me.”

“Maybe later.”

I put my headset back on my ear and I continue playing. The first round is quickly won, six more to go.

//

Between rounds, I have 90 seconds to choose what powers I'm choosing for my character. I'm done within a few seconds, so I take off my headset.

"I really have to win this game, you can sit down or something."

He pauses. "Or something?" I see him grinning and I can hear it in his voice. I ignore it.

"You know what I mean. I'll just make you wait longer."

"We'll have to see about that."

I'm already late. I quickly put my headset back on and unmute myself. "I'm coming!", I tell my teammates. I give a quick look to my side and give him a wink.

Somewhere during the second round, I feel one of the ears of my headset coming off. I want to turn my head to him, but instead he whispers in my ear: "You missed that shot." He gives my earlobe a little bite before he puts my headset back on again.

I get shivers down my spine. "Fuck you."

"What's that?", my friend asks. Shit, I forgot to mute myself.

I can feel myself starting to blush. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

I hate to admit that his move got me distracted, but my team lost this round...

//

90 second break again. I quickly choose my powers and turn towards him again. This time I mute myself.

"What did I say? I need to win this game. You can't distract me like that!"

"You told me to sit down, or something. I'm choosing something." There is this naughty grin again.

"I don't know what you're playing at here, but you better behave!"

"I'll try my best."

I turn back to my game, just in time for the next round.

Soon after the start of the round, I feel his hands on my shoulders. Slowly massaging them at first. Then slightly tickling the back of my neck.

"What do you think you're doing?" I ask him.

My teammate responds to my question. Fuck, I forgot to mute myself again.

"Sorry, that wasn't meant for you." I decide to mute myself, so this doesn't happen again.

Soon after, I can feel one hand going from my shoulder down to my upper arm. The other hand is brushing my hair to one side.

"What are you ..." I don't get the chance to finish my question. I can feel his soft lips planting very gentle kisses in my neck. He's going from the back of my neck, to my collarbone, to my shoulder.

He takes one ear off of my headset again. "Don't forget to pay attention to your game,", he whispers, very seductively.

I am so incredibly distracted by this.

My team loses this round, again...

//

After the round ends, I turn sideways to face him. I quickly glance towards his bulge and see that it is getting a little bigger in his pants.

I wrap my arm around his waist, and pull him towards me. I move my hand to the back of his thigh to pull him even closer, and to hold him there. I use my other hand to lift his shirt up a little bit. Just enough to give him a few kisses, just above his pants.

I let his shirt go and lower my hand to the front of his thigh. I can't help but let my hand glide over his bulge on the way down.

I feel his hand on the back of my head, attempting to pull my face closer to his body.

"Nuh uh!", I say. "I have to win this game first, remember?"

The game says I have 20 seconds left. I quickly choose my powers and lock in for this round.

My team wins! The score is 2-2 now.

//

I choose new powers again and I am waiting for the next round to begin.

"Are you almost done?"

"I need to win 2 more rounds."

He grabs a chair and sits down next to me.

I put my hand on his thigh and gently rub it. "You know. I could've won already, if you hadn't distracted me."

He is breathing faster, and then sighs. "You asked me to come over, what do you expect me to do?"

"I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"Well, I am here now."

"I noticed. You just need to enjoy yourself for a few minutes, while I win my game."

"Enjoy myself how?"

I give him a wink. "That's up to you."

//

As soon as round 5 starts, he stands up. From the corner of my eye, I see that his bulge is now even bigger than before.

He unbuckles his belt and lets his pants and fall to his ankles. I can't help but stare.

"What are you doing?!" I ask, after I mute myself.

"Enjoying myself," he answers, while giving me a wink.

I have nothing so say, because he is doing exactly what I told him to do...

I'm so, so, so tempted to just abandon my game and let him have me.

I really need this win, though.

I try to focus on my game. He starts to touch himself.

He's just standing there. Rubbing his bulge over his underwear. Enjoying himself. Watching me struggle to focus on my game.

I'm not even enjoying the game anymore at this point, I just want him.

I don't see it, but I can feel the grin on his face.

I am now constantly distracted.

My team barely wins this round. That's definitely not because of me... It's 3-2 now.

//

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I ask him.

He's grinning from ear to ear. He takes his underwear off. "Very much so."

"That's good," I murmur, while staring at the big cock he is now holding in his hands.

He starts to laugh. "Are YOU enjoying yourself?"

I give him a side eye. "Very much so," I answer. I think he knows I don't really want to keep playing anymore.

At this point, I'm very aroused and I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter...

I want to turn to him and give that beautiful cock some well-deserved attention, but the next round is about to start...

"If I win this next round, I'm all yours."

"I'm looking forward to it."

//

If my team wins this round, we win and we're done.

"Time to lock in," I murmur to myself.

He decides to stand behind my chair, where I can't see him anymore.

He behaves this time. He's not distracting me whatsoever. I think we both really want me to win this round.

I'm really locked in this round and I make kill after kill after kill.

He's actually watching me play and he's really getting into it.

Time's almost up, we're close to winning the game.

"Get him! To your left!" I hear from behind my chair.

I look to my left and I make the final kill.

We won!

"VICTORY" is flashing on my screen.

//

I feel my headset coming off. He's leaning over me from behind my chair, to put it on my desk.

I turn around and look at him.

He gives me a quick kiss and says: "Look at you babe, you did it!"

I grab his face and kiss start to kiss him very passionately.

I'm so incredibly wet and turned on now, I just want him inside me as soon as possible.

He kisses me back. He's lowering his hands from my face, to my shoulders, to my boobs. He's rubbing my nipples with his thumbs, making them very hard. I can feel myself pulsating down there.

Then he stops, completely.

He turns my face back to my screen, and puts my headset back on.

"What are you doing?" I asked, "I just won the game."

"I actually enjoyed watching you play, keep going."

"Uhm, okay?"

I press the button to requeue.

"Just... maybe not competitive now... We don't want you to lose the progress you just made." He has a mischievous smile on his face.

"No, of course not," I say, while I change to a casual gamemode. The queue times can be very long...

//

"Oh, one more thing," he says while I'm in the queue, waiting for the next game to start.

"Hm?"

He takes my chair and turns it around. I'm now facing towards him, the back of the chair is against my desk.

My attention is immediately drawn to his big, hard, beautiful cock. Now it's finally time for that attention he's been craving...

I have to hold it with both of my hands, that's how big he is.

I start with planting gentle kisses along his shaft, and slowly letting my tongue glide against it.

While I start to put his tip inside my mouth, he takes my headset off again.

He grabs the back of my head and pulls me towards him. I fully take his cock in my throat. Again. And again.

He steps backwards, and bends towards me. He kisses me again, just as passionately as before.

He keeps kissing me, lowering his hands to my boobs again. Pinching and rubbing my nipples until they're hard. This time, he only stops for a quick second to take off my shirt.

While kissing me, he lowers his hands even more. They're now resting on my thighs, slowly moving towards my inner thighs.

He's now sitting on his knees, between my legs.

He reaches one arm behind me, pushing against the back of my chair. He pushes the chair all the way down, and me with it. I'm now almost in a horizontal position.

This way, he can check the screen behind me, to see if I'm already in a new game.

He moves his hand from the chair to my inner thigh again. His thumbs find my pussy through my clothes. He gently touches my clit, causing me to let out a small, quiet moan.

"Hm...", he murmurs, "it's a little damp down here."

'Fuck you."

I can feel myself about to leak through my pants. He takes them off, but leaves my panties on.

//

He's now kissing my thighs, his thumb now steadily rubbing my clit through my panties. I'm so, so wet at this point. I just want something of him inside me. I don't care if it's his fingers, his tongue or his big cock. Just, something...

He takes off my panties and I'm suddenly full of anticipation. He's checking the screen very frequently now. It's already been ten minutes, the game can start any second now.

His lips and kisses are moving to my inner thighs, and towards my leaking pussy. I almost can't take it anymore. I'm holding the back of his head, trying to steer him towards my pussy, but he has other plans...

He looks up to the screen once again. "Oh," he says, "your game is about to start."

"Oh, fuck me!" I say, cursing at the game, for having the audacity to start now.

"I will," he answers with a wink.

//

He's giving me a hand, quickly helping me get up from my almost horizontal chair.

I'm now standing in front of my chair, waiting for what he will do next. I don't care about the stupid game anymore. It's not ranked, anyway.

While I'm standing, he decides to take off my panties, finally... However, he puts my headset back on my head and turns me around, so I'm facing the screen again.

He presses himself and his hard cock against my backside, teasing me.

"Take a seat," he tells me.

My chair is still turned around, so I sit down on my knees on the chair in front of him.

"Enjoy your game, dear." he says, with the biggest grin on his (handsome) face again.

//

Before I even leave spawn in my game, I feel his hands on my back. They're gliding down towards my hips, and towards my ass.

He start massaging my cheeks, and I can barely concentrate on my game. I keep missing my shots and walking into walls.

Then, I feel his tongue. He decided to finally have a taste of how wet I've been for him this whole time... I let out a moan and I'm so distracted by how good this feels, that my character walks straight off the map.

He chuckles, "Looks like you're losing."

At this point, I'm so incredibly wet and turned on, that I tell him: "Fuck off. Just do your job and fuck me."

I don't have to tell him twice. Before my character walks out of spawn again, he thrusts his cock so deep inside of me, that I can barely breathe.

I walk straight off the map again.

The rest of the game is history.

//

Let's just say: this game is totally lost. However, his cock is an absolute game changer ;)

So I've known Jake since freshman orientation. We were in the same orientation group and bonded over hating the icebreaker games they made us do. He is an average looking guy, like he’s not ugly but not model hot either. He has a bit of fluff on his belly/waist, but I always found that cute. He has brown hair, he’s a little soft around the middle and funny as hell. We've been friends for two years now, strictly platonic or at least I thought so until this beach trip.

It was me, Jake, my roommate Tara, her boyfriend Kyle and our friend Marcus. We drove out to this secluded spot Tara knew about, like an hour from campus. It was one of those hidden coves with rocks on both sides but not a real beach, more like a clearing by the lake. We had the whole place to ourselves.

We spread out blankets and cracked open some seltzers. It was hot as fuck like ninety degrees and I was wearing this yellow bikini that I knew looked good on me. Jake kept looking over and I would catch him and he would pretend he wasn't which made me laugh because I liked the attention.

"Someone's gonna get burned," Tara said, tossing me the sunscreen. "You didn't put any on yet."

"I was waiting for someone to do my back," I said giving her puppy eyes. "Please?"

Tara rolled her eyes but she climbed on my lap and started rubbing sunscreen on my shoulders. Her hands were warm and she was being thorough with it getting under my bikini straps and rubbing slow circles on my lower back. I made a moaning sound because it felt good and I heard Jake clear his throat from where he was sitting.

"Your turn," Tara said as she finishing up so she tossed the bottle to Jake and "Do her front side because I'm gonna swim."

She ran off with Kyle and Marcus followed leaving me and Jake alone on the blanket. I looked at him I said to him " Are you up for it?"

"For what?" he asked me

"Putting sunscreen on me, unless you are scared." I said it like it was nothing like I wasn't already feeling butterflies in my stomach.

He laughed… I know that nervous laugh that he does when he's uncomfortable and he says "I'm not scared Melly, come here."

I turned around to face him and pulled my hair over my shoulder. He squeezed sunscreen into his hands and started on my shoulders by rubbing it in. His hands were bigger than I expected, it was warm although it felt a little rough but he was being careful with it like he was afraid to touch me.

"You can go lower because my stomach needs it too" I said.

Then he moved down and started rubbing my stomach with his fingers brushing the edge of my bikini bottoms. I was watching his face and he was watching his hands with his tongue poking because he was trying to concentrate. I thought it was cute and I liked how nervous he was.

"Turn around, so I can get your back side he said to me.

So I turned and pulled my hair up and he started on my shoulders again and I felt his fingers trace all the way down to my spine slowly like and when he got to the hook of my bikini he suddenly paused. When I saw he suddenly stopped, I told him to keep going, then he unhooked it. I let the straps fall forward and I heard him breathe very hard. His hands started moving lower as he was rubbing sunscreen on my lower back then he was daring to go to my sides almost touching the sides of my breasts.

“You’re really soft,” he said it quietly so I looked over my shoulder at him and I told him “ you think so? You should feel the rest”

I said it as a joke but then as I was standing up to pull bikini top off completely and tossing it on the blanket, Jake’s eyes opened very wide and he looked around like as if someone might see but we were alone.

“Skinny dipping, who’s in?” I asked my friends

Tara came running from the water screaming “Fuck yes.. Come on!”

I looked at Jake and he was just still sitting there staring at my chest, so I asked him if he was coming and he told me that I was crazy . I pulled my bikini bottoms down and stepped out of them standing there completely naked under the sun in the afternoon. The air felt really amazing there so I ran towards the water and my boobs were bouncing everywhere when I dived in the water.

When I was in the water, I raised my head up to look at Jake and he pulled his shirt off with his shorts but as soon as I saw him hesitating, I called him a chicken and he told me “Fuck you,” then he pulled them down.

He was an average like, completely average or maybe even on the smaller side but I didn’t care in fact I liked it because it made him more real and more approachable and less intimidating. I couldn’t help myself so I found myself staring at it as he walked into the water with his dick swinging left and right.

He finally got to where I was and we were both in the water close enough that our legs kept brushing over each other under then Tara and the others later came out of the but we were there in our own bubble. He moved closer to me and said "Can I touch you?” he asked me in a very quiet way so that the others wouldn’t hear.

I didn’t answer him but I just took his hand and put it on my waist. His hand moved down grabbing my ass and I moved closer so I could feel him getting hard against my leg and I liked it because it felt like it would actually fit without hurting.

“You’re smaller than I expected,” I told him as a tease and I noticed that the reaction on him face changed for a second so I added and said “ but I like it because big ones hurt.”

We moved to a more secluded area, closer to the rocks.

He groaned all of a sudden and I don’t know what came over him, he pulled me close to him and stared kissing me. His hands were everywhere on me, my back, my ass, my tits. I also couldn’t hold it in anymore, so I reached down and wrapped my hand around his dick and I was rubbing it slowly. I was waiting for him to put his dick in me but he was not feeling confident and he felt a little reluctant to do so and I couldn’t hold it in anymore waiting for him to do. I felt like if he isn’t going to do it then I’m going to do it myself so I grab his dick out and put it in my pussy myself.

He didn’t expect it tho but seeing me doing it gave him the confidence he needed and he continued by himself from there.

“Fuck, Melly, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He said it to me as he was breathing uncontrollably

“Why didn’t you say something?”. I had to ask him and he told me “I thought you didn’t see me like that.”

I laughed and also told him “You’re an idiot.”

The waves kept splashing around us and I could hear Tara still being loud in the background but I didn’t give a fuck because I was just feeling Jake with his hands grabbing my tits and his dick moving in and out. It felt strange with all the salt water and it removing my wetness and my natural lube, which made him being on the smaller side all the better.

He said to me as he kept thrusting in and out “Fuck you feel good and your pussy is so fucking perfect.”

“Don’t stop because I want you to fuck me harder” I told him that as I was moaning

After he heard my moaning sounds he liked it and he kept going faster with his hips hitting my ass and I reached down to rub my clit. It didn’t take long until I came hard with my legs shaking as my pussy was squeezing him and he groaned and bit my shoulder to stay quiet.

“Shit I’m gonna come,” he told me and although he told me he was gonna come, I still told him to go ahead and do it because I didn’t care.

But he pulled out and I felt him shoot it on my lower back. He was panting and said “ Fuck, Holy shit”

We stayed like that for a minute or so to catch our breathing with his hands were still squeezing on my tits like they were stuck there.

I turn around and said to him, “ So do you wanna put sunscreen on me again later?”

He laughed “You’re gonna kill me.”

We later went back to meet the others like nothing happened but I couldn’t help but kept smiling at him all day and he kept blushing. I knew definitely that we would be doing that again

When I Stopped Waiting

Note: This is a true story. Some names and details have been altered to protect the privacy of those involved, but the feelings—and the heat—are 100% real.

I

I’m not entirely sure how to start this confession. I suppose the best way is to lay it out straight: this is a true story. Obviously, I’ve changed the names and blurred the identifying details, because by putting this out there, I’m risking an eight-year relationship with my partner—and a hell of a lot more. But I think it’s a story worth telling, if only to prove that sometimes, your darkest fantasies actually do come true. For better or worse. And always when you least expect it.

My name is Luis. I’m thirty-six years old, and I’ve been hopelessly in love with Sergio, my best friend, for almost fourteen years. We met at Pappy Dog, a sweaty, pulsing gay club, back in August of ’94. He was a friend of a friend, but Sergio was strictly straight. He only ended up at Pappy’s because his gay friends had made the sacrifice of dragging him to Tretas first—an old-school straight club—hoping he’d finally hook up with a girl. The kid had just turned nineteen and hadn't even popped his cherry yet. But he’d completely chickened out, anchoring himself to the bar, nervously sipping his rum and coke, too paralyzed to make a move on a single woman there.

And once he stepped into Pappy’s, well... his chances of getting laid were pretty much shot.

To put the final nail in the coffin of his night, his buddies vanished into the darkroom, leaving Sergio completely stranded in the quietest corner of the bar. He just stood there, watching a sea of jacked guys rolling on ecstasy grinding against each other, occasionally shooting a hopeful glance at some lesbian walking past on her way to the dance floor.

His night was a total trainwreck until I bumped into our mutual friend in the bathrooms. He was thrilled to see me, dragged me upstairs, and planted me right next to Sergio. He introduced us, begged me to babysit him, and immediately bolted off to suck some cock.

I didn’t mind playing babysitter one bit. The kid was charming, and he was massive—a broad-shouldered guy from the north who easily passed for twenty-five despite being nineteen. And handsome as fuck. Or *guapo de cojones*—handsome as balls—as we say here. Not that I actually got to see his. I fucking wish.

The point is, we hit it off. We started talking, knocking back drinks, and I found out he lived just a couple of blocks from my apartment. At some point in the night, he finally asked me where the hell his friends had disappeared to.

"The darkroom," I replied.

He looked at me, completely clueless.

"What’s that? The bathroom? Is it really that filthy?"

You have to remember, back then, barely anyone had the internet—if it even existed for us yet—and there weren't any explicit shows on TV. Straight guys were completely oblivious to how things actually worked in the gay scene compared to how they are today.

So I explained the concept of a darkroom to him, and his eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"Wait, so guys just go down there and start fucking?"

"Or sucking cock."

"And there’s no light at all?"

"Just the spark of a lighter every now and then."

"Holy shit. They definitely don’t have that in *normal* clubs."

I let the *normal* comment slide. I didn't bother lecturing him about how Pappy’s was perfectly normal despite being packed wall-to-wall with fags. I had already decided right then and there that he was going to be one of my best friends. I figured I’d be seeing a lot of him, so I’d have plenty of time to educate him later.

Instead, I just grabbed his large hand and pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on. I’ll show you."

"Alright. But if anybody touches me, I’m screaming."

"Deal. And I’ll run you right out of here."

We stepped slowly into the darkroom. The first narrow hallway was lined with men, their eyes tracking us intently under the faint, blueish glow spilling in from the bathrooms. We had to shuffle past them in a tight little train, mostly because Sergio had plastered his front right against my ass like he was glued there. Honestly, it made walking a pain, but the poor kid was spooked. We pushed a little deeper, and soon enough, the darkness swallowed us completely.

"Does it bother you that I'm pressed up against you like this? I'm practically fucking you in the ass," he whispered right into my ear.

A jolt of pure heat shot down my spine.

"God, no. You're turning me on so fucking much right now. You won't hear a single complaint out of me."

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"Not even a little. But don't worry. It doesn't hurt."

"If it doesn't hurt, you can't be that turned on."

"Reach down and feel for yourself."

"Not a fucking chance."

"Alright, alright. Suit yourself."

Like I said, a textbook straight guy. We kept pushing through the pitch black until I let go of his hands. Not that it mattered—he had immediately locked his fingers together right over my stomach, making damn sure I couldn't slip away from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding borderline panicked.

"Feeling around for the wall. Unless you want me to bust my teeth open in the dark."

"Right. Obviously."

That’s when we heard it. Just to our right. A wet, sloppy sucking sound. The unmistakable noise of someone licking their lips.

"Someone's getting a hell of a blowjob," Sergio whispered, a slight edge of hysteria in his voice.

"Actually, I think someone's getting their ass eaten," I corrected him.

To my surprise, Sergio was the one who pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, illuminating the whole damn scene.

For a split second, I caught a glimpse of about thirty men getting off in every way imaginable, working with tools of all shapes and sizes.

"Fuck, it's packed in here tonight," I muttered.

Suddenly, someone swatted Sergio's hand hard, sending the lighter flying out of his grip.

"Don't pick it up," he pleaded, as the pitch-black swallowed us again.

"Wasn't planning on it," I replied.

"Jesus, they play rough in here!"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"It's called a *dark*room for a reason, idiot," I scolded him affectionately. "By the way..."

"A blowjob," he answered. "I was right."

We kept pushing deeper into the darkness for another ten minutes. At one point, a frantic, wet *slap, slap, slap* let us know someone was getting absolutely railed just inches away from us. I waited, my pulse hammering, desperate to feel even the slightest twitch in Sergio's crotch—which was still pressed flush against my ass—but absolutely nothing stirred down there.

When we finally made it out into the light, I gave him the third degree.

"Well? What did you think?”

"Fascinating."

"You didn't even get hard."

"Was I supposed to?"

"When I was your age, just the word 'sex' was enough to get me rock hard."

"You're only three years older than me. And I don't swing that way. Guys don't do it for me."

"But there were people in there literally choking on cock."

"But they were *dudes*."

"But it could've been *your* cock."

"But it's not the same."

"But..."

And he let me keep throwing "buts" at him for the rest of the night, though he stopped arguing back. I suppose Sergio had already decided right then that I was going to be one of his best friends, and that he’d have plenty of time to educate me until I finally grasped that straight guys don't get hard watching men fuck.

Days bled into each other, and I fell hopelessly, disastrously in love with Sergio.

Weeks passed, and I confessed it to him.

Months went by, and our bond only deepened. He gave me all the love I craved—the tight hugs, the raw affection, the constant, lingering physical touch.

Everything. Except sex.

Sometimes we’d even crash in the same bed after a night of heavy drinking. Nothing ever happened, though. Even when I was starving for him, dying to just lean over and taste his mouth, I refused to make a move that might ruin the beautiful thing we didn't quite have.

And I was happy like that for two years. Until Sergio met Marta. And they got married. And I had to go find my own happiness with a guy who was a hell of a lot less straight.

We kept the friendship alive. So much so that Marcos (my boyfriend back then, now my husband), Sergio, his wife, and yours truly would get together for dinner two or three times a month. We spent New Year’s Eve together, organized camping trips, parties, card games, and the occasional vacation. More recently, we’d spend entire weekends binge-watching the first few seasons of *Lost*.

I’m not ashamed to admit that through all of this, I’ve stayed secretly, desperately in love with him. Or that, as the years went by, any physical contact with Sergio—the tight hugs, the casual cheek kisses, the firm handshakes—took on a deeply sexual weight for me. Sergio makes me rock hard. Now more than ever. And I’ll confess right here that I’ve jerked off in his bathroom more than once, fishing his worn boxers out of the laundry hamper and burying my face in the fabric, breathing in the raw, musky scent of his cock.

Anyway. About two months ago, Sergio called my cell. He sounded on edge.

"Did you guys have a fight?" I asked. Sergio and Marta don't usually fight, but when they do, they make a hell of a racket, and it’s usually the DVD player that pays the price, ending up launched right off the balcony. It’s always some cheap DVD player from the supermarket. For some reason, their rage never quite pushes them to smash the expensive premium cable box.

"No. It's not that. Can you come over?”

"Of course. I'm on my way."

It was a Thursday afternoon. I finish work early, and Marcos doesn't get home until nine. I had about two and a half hours to dedicate entirely to Sergio.

I got to his place, rang the bell, and he opened the door shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of loose, white cropped pants hanging low on his hips. The second I saw him, my mouth watered and I was instantly dripping—or as a girlfriend of mine likes to say, my pussy turned into a puddle.

"Come in." To my absolute dismay, he didn't give me his usual welcoming hug.

I followed him to the living room couch, where he slumped down, looking completely defeated.

"What happened?" I asked, starting to actually worry.

"I can't take it anymore. If things keep going like this, I'm leaving her."

So it *was* about Marta after all.

"Same old story?" I asked.

He nodded, giving me these pathetic, kicked-puppy eyes.

The thing is, after more than ten years of marriage, Marta was still absolutely unwilling to suck his cock.

"She has zero problem with me burying my face between her legs and eating her out, but she won't even taste it. Won't even smell it. She won't even let me blow my load on her tits!"

I knew this song and dance by heart. Marta had this bizarre phobia of semen. Just looking at it made her gag, so the risk of him unloading on her tongue was completely out of the question...

"I can't do this anymore. I'm up to my fucking balls with this.”

"Come on, man. You can't rethink your entire marriage over something as trivial as Marta refusing to suck your cock, Sergio."

"Sure, easy for you to say. You actually get your dick sucked..."

"If she was freezing you out completely, that'd be one thing. But you guys are still fucking."

"But I want a fucking blowjob. And then two thousand more, just to make up for lost time."

"And what does she say when you ask?"

"She tells me to go jerk off."

"Have you ever thought about stepping out on her?"

"Have you? Have you thought about cheating on Marcos? Exactly. It's not an option."

I'd cheat on him with you in a heartbeat, you bastard, I thought.

"Well, I don't know what else to tell you. It's a tough problem to fix," I lied, considering I was fully prepared to drop to my knees and solve it for him right then and there.

"For what it's worth, I've always said blowjobs are overrated."

"Right now, I can't think of a single thing I want more."

"That's because you're a prisoner of your own heterosexuality. I'd trade a great blowjob for getting my ass eaten any day of the week." I didn't say it like a transaction, but God, I wished Sergio had taken it as an offer.

"I don't know, man. I think that would gross her out even more."

"Ah. So she hasn't done that either."

"Don't torture me, alright? I already know you get to play the field a lot more than I do."

"Only because you choose not to."

"I think we've made that pretty fucking clear by now, don't you?"

"I didn't mean with me, dumbass—though I wouldn't exactly complain if you offered. I meant with her. I bet she's never even sucked your nipples, has she? I bet it hasn't even crossed your mind to ask."

"She accidentally got a mouthful of my armpit once and looked disgusted for three days straight. Besides, my nipples aren't even sensitive."

"Bullshit. Give me twenty seconds and these two fingers, and I could have you rock hard."

"But you're you, not her."

"So?"

"You're a dude. You couldn't turn me on if I was blackout drunk."

"Come here and prove it."

"No way. If I actually get hard, you'll hold it over my masculinity for the rest of my life."

"You have a seriously warped concept of masculinity. Come on. Get over here. Twenty seconds on the clock."

"Fine."

And to my absolute surprise, he shifted over, laid his head right in my lap, and closed his eyes.

"No tickling."

"I'll stick strictly to the nipples."

"With your fingers."

"Obviously."

"Alright. Go. I'll count in my head."

My heart instantly started hammering against my ribs. For the first time in my life, I had Sergio completely surrendered to my touch for something explicitly sexual. I was actually going to try and turn him on. I was going to rub his nipples with my bare hands, and... I got rock hard, right beneath the weight of his head. He had to be feeling my erection pressing against him, but he didn't pull away.

"Are you gonna start?" he murmured, keeping his eyes closed as he started humming the theme from Kill Bill.

So I brushed his right nipple, agonizingly slow, tracing tiny circles with the tip of my index finger. I was dying to tangle my fingers in the thick, dark hair covering his chest, but I forced myself to stick to the rules, lightly grazing one nipple, then the other.

Sergio shivered slightly. I kept working his nipples, slow and deliberate, while my cock throbbed relentlessly under the weight of his head, which suddenly felt like it was pressing much heavier into my lap. At some point, I realized Sergio had stopped humming. He didn't seem to be counting anymore, either.

I kept massaging him, fully aware that the twenty seconds were long gone and that this could end at any second. So I started pressing a little harder. His nipples went completely rigid, the hair on his arms stood on end, and suddenly, he jolted—and shoved his loose white pants all the way down to his knees.

Without opening his eyes, he leaned back against my crotch, grabbed his cock, and started stroking himself with a brutal, frantic rhythm. My heart was hammering so hard against my ribs that I barely even dared to look down at it. I just kept working his nipples while he jerked off. But then the raw, heavy scent of his cock hit me, and I had no choice but to look.

It was massive—thick, heavily veined, and the exact perfect size to make my mouth water like a starving man. But his balls were almost better. They were so heavy and full that I was desperately tempted to reach down just to weigh them in my hands. Still, given the miracle of what was already happening, I figured I had more than enough, so I didn't dare move.

Sergio seemed to have other plans. Keeping his eyes firmly shut, he shifted his body closer, pressing his back flat against my thighs. I adjusted my position so he could rest against my chest. Now, while my fingers kept playing with his nipples, my arms were brushing against his shoulders, and my raging erection was trapped flush against his lower back.

His strokes hit a wicked, frantic pace, and I sped up my hands to match him. Then, Sergio started tilting his face up, as if he were searching for my lips. He parted his mouth, his tongue darting out just a fraction.

Fuck it, I told myself, and I kissed him.

He opened his lips wider, inviting me in, and I devoured his mouth with years of starved, pent-up desperation. Our tongues tangled together, and that was all it took for Sergio to come with a violent intensity I had rarely seen in another man. Thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering across his chest in heavy waves that felt like they were never going to end.

One of those heavy ropes splattered across my fingers. Sergio had broken the kiss, surrendering completely to the overwhelming force of his climax. His eyes were still squeezed shut, so I seized the moment, bringing my slick fingers to my lips to finally taste him.

We stayed frozen like that for a few minutes, the only sound his ragged breathing slowly evening out, while my own cock kept hammering relentlessly against his spine. Suddenly, he stood up and casually asked if I wanted a Coke.

I told him I needed a paper towel first.

He opened the fridge, grabbed a can, and poured the soda into a glass. But he didn't hand me a towel, even though there were two or three rolls sitting right there on the kitchen counter. I still had streaks of his cum drying on my arms, but he had clearly made the executive decision to completely ignore what had just happened.

"I'm gonna take a shower. It's fucking boiling in here."

And just like that, he vanished into the bathroom.

I ended up washing his load off my skin at the kitchen sink.

Ten minutes later, he had practically shoved me out the front door.

And, as you can probably guess, it didn't end there.

Part 2 coming in a few days. Follow my profile so you don't miss the rest of this story.

Once we were dating, Charlotte spent a lot of time at my apartment, because she lived in the freshman girls' dormitory on campus, but I had an apartment on campus. I had my own room, and it was also just nice to have a living room to hang out. My housemates did not care much, because their girlfriends were over a lot too.

I liked to nap on Friday afternoons. It was the only day of the week, that I had the afternoon free, and it was the day after my band would play at a bar, every Thursday night, which always led to a late night. As a science major, I had a lot of lab classes, and my schedule was full the rest of the week. But, Fridays were so nice, with class ending before noon.

Charlotte liked to come join me for my nap, and I liked that too. It was nice to have her snuggle with me, but most times it was more than a nap. There would be some afternoon sex and then a nap. I've always really loved afternoon sex the most. I would rank it, afternoon sex, then morning sex, and lastly night time sex.

So this particular afternoon, I was still awake, having just climbed into bed, when Charlotte let herself into my bedroom. I grinned at her, while slowly stroking my dick. I was already hard in anticipation of her arrival, so I was laying in bed, completely naked under the covers. She saw my obvious hand movement and giggled.

"What are you up to there, Sam?"

"Waiting for you too arrive."

She giggled, as she took off her boots, "It looks like you weren't waiting for me."

"I just started touching it, when I saw you."

Charlotte started moving to get into bed with me, still wearing some black jeans and little black t-shirt that showed off her midsection.

"Stop. You need to strip for me."

Charlotte made an embarrassed giggle and rolled her eyes. She'd been naked with me before, but she was cute, because it always seemed to embarrass her a bit. Charlotte sighed and unzipped her pants, then pushed them down, so she was standing there in some red panties. She started to approach the bed again.

"No, you need to strip for me."

Charlotte turned red so quickly, I always thought that was cute. "Why?"

"So, I can see your hot little naked body."

"Can't I just get naked under the covers?", she asked while taking off her tshirt.

"No, I want you to strip for me."

She reached around back to unclasp her bra, and nervously giggled, "It's weird...you're staring at me."

"That's the whole point. I love watching you get naked."

Charlotte threw aside her bra, then shoved down her panties, so she was totally naked.

"Turn around for me."

She made an embarrassed giggle and then spun around to show me her bare ass too. I started climbing out of bed, with a ridiculous erection.

"What are you doing, Sam?"

I grabbed one of my pillows, and wandered over in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom. I dropped the pillow at my feet, with a side view of myself in the mirror. Her face was bright red.

"I want you to get on your knees, on this nice comfy pillow, and suck my cock."

Charlotte made some more embarrassed giggles, "Why not in bed?"

"I want to watch you in the mirror. I want to see you on your knees, and watch in the mirror."

"Oh my god that's embarrassing," but she moved over in front of me, touching my hard dick some, and glancing at herself in the mirror.

We kissed some, while she touched my penis, then I lightly pushed down on her shoulders, and she giggled, as she got on her knees. I saw her glance nervously at herself in the mirror, then burst out with giggles, while touching my dick. She kept cracking up at the situation so much that she could not suck it.

"Suck it."

"I can't. I keep cracking up."

"You're adorable when you're all embarrassed."

"shut up."

"You love it."

I saw the side view of her on her knees, as she took my dick in her mouth.

"Fuck that's hot, Charlotte," watching her move her head with my dick in her mouth. I could see that she was trying to watch herself a little, then pulled her mouth off and stroked it while shaking her head a little.

"So embarrassing."

She sucked it some more, and had to pull her mouth off laughing again.

"What?"

"Every time I glance in the mirror, you're watching me."

"It's hot."

"It's embarrassing," but then she put it back in her mouth, really sucking it.

I whimpered, "Good girl", as she sucked it a little more aggressively. She pulled her mouth of for a break, and glanced up at me.

She burst out giggling, "Everywhere I look, you're staring at me."

"That's because you're beautiful and you look amazing with my cock in your mouth."

Charlotte looked up at me and licked the underside of the head a few times, acting a little bolder. "Good girl...fuck that feels good." She put it back in her mouth, sucking it for a bit, the only sound in the room, some wet noises from her mouth, and my labored breathing.

"Lick my balls."

She burst out laughing with my dick in her mouth, and had to pull it out. "You're so embarrassing."

"Just lick em a little bit."

Charlotte giggled, but then I watched in the mirror, as she leaned in to lick my balls some. I saw that she turned her head a bit, to see it for herself. She did a little bit, but then went back to sucking and stroking my dick. I shut up and let her just do her thing, with my hands on my hips, sort of pushing my dick out towards her, sometimes watching her in the mirror, and sometimes looking down at her.

I finally whimpered out, "I'm gonna cum soon."

She pulled her mouth off, because she did not like cum in her mouth. She was stroking my dick, but I pushed her hand off, so I could stroke it myself. She sat back on her heels, in a more relaxed kneeling position, watching me stroke it in front of her face.

"I want to cum on your face."

Charlotte laughed at that, "What?!"

"I want to cum all over your pretty face."

"Just don't get it in my eyes or my mouth."

"I'll stay away from your eyes, and you can close your mouth."

I stroked it and I noticed she was touching herself with one hand, biting her lips, watching me stroke my cock. I grabbed her hair and moved my dick right up to her face, tilting her head and I blasted cum on her cheek on one side. She whimpered and moaned, as she cum hit her face. Just a little landed on her lower lip, chin, and most of it on one cheek. I rubbed the cum on her cheek a bit, with my hard dick.

There was some cum on my dickhead and I put it near her mouth, "You want to taste it?"

She snickered, but then put it in her mouth, just sucking off the tiny bit of cum. She made a face like she'd just sucked on a lemon, but did not gag, like she had in the past. She was slowly getting over her aversion to cum. I saw her quickly lick the tiny bit off her lower lip and it caused no reaction.

I said, "They say you have to taste something 10-15 times to like it."

Charlotte burst out giggling while wiping the cum off her face with some tissues I handed her. "Oh, that's convenient for you."

"You love sucking cock." I helped her stand up and then we kissed.

We got in my bed, making out, totally naked. I slid down her body to go down on her, licking her slit. She had a nice little bit of manicure dark brown bush and I liked feeling her soft bush, while licking her pussy. I enjoyed licking her like that, but then moved into a 69, rolling her onto my face, with her legs on either side of me.

"What are you doing, Sam?" she giggled. "I already sucked your dick."

"You don't to do anything to my dick, I just love this view." I had her ass and pussy in my face, and I licked her from below. I licked her pussy for a bit, licking and sucking on her clit from below, then I licked her taint and she giggled and squirmed. I dragged my tongue up over her little puckered asshole and she gasped. "Sam?"

I kept lightly licking there. I said, "What?" with my tongue still sticking out of my mouth against her little butthole.

"You licked my butt." She giggled.

I was still licking her butt. "It's pretty."

She giggled, "god, you're so embarrassing," but she made some little moans, as I rimmed her butthole. I returned to her pussy, and she collapsed down on me, grinding her crotch on my face, while I licked her. She was facing the foot of the bed, and she moved her body down mine, "Where are you going, Charlotte?"

She got a condom from a box at the foot of my bed, giggling as she ripped open the wrapper and then rolled it onto my dick. She moved like she was going to ride me in cowgirl, but I said, "No ride it in reverse cowgirl."

Charlotte was very inexperienced, and it seemed like that position had not occurred to her.

"Like this?" She looked over her shoulder, as she sank herself down onto my dick, with her butt facing me.

"Yeah, be careful of my dick though." She slowly bounced up and down like that, and I saw her satisfied face, as she would sink down on it, looking over her shoulder at me sometimes. She propped herself up on her hands, working herself up and down on my dick. I spread her buttcheeks with my hands, causing her to giggle. I gently touched her butthole, putting just a little pressure on it, while she continued grinding herself on my hard cock, which was somewhat strained in this position. She made some horny moans, "mmmm...Sam...fuck..."

"You've got a nice little butt."

That caused her to giggle, while she rode up and down on my dick, and her pussy squeezed my dick with her giggles. I lightly smacked it, as she continued moving herself up and down on it in reverse cowgirl. She had her torso down, resting her weight on her arms, but moving her pelvis up and down on my cock. She moved completely upright, as I started involuntarily thrusting upward and grabbing her hips. "Oh fuck...Sam..."

I made some grunts, as I started cumming inside the condom. She slowly slipped herself off my dick, and I removed the condom, throwing it in the trash. We each went to the bathroom, then came back to bed, to snuggle up for an actual nap.

When we woke up, Charlotte said, “Sam, my parents are coming to visit me for parents’ weekend, are yours coming?” She seemed a bit nervous, as she said it.

“Nah, I’m the youngest child, they’ve done enough parents’ weekends.” 

“So, you could hang out with my parents and me?” 

“Charlotte…” 

“What?” She grinned at me, pleading with me. 

“Like, we haven’t been dating that long. I’ve gotta meet the parents?” We'd really only been dating for a month or so.

“It’s just that it will be sooo boring with just them and me.”

“What are we talking about? Dinner?” 

“Well, yes, I would like for you to come to dinner with us, but also…they want to take me to brunch.” She seemed nervous about the brunch part.

“Why are you being cagey about brunch?” 

“Okay, they want me to go to church with them and then brunch on Sunday.” 

“Hell no. I don’t do Church. I’ll meet up for brunch afterwards.” 

“But, you can’t just go to church with us? It’s like one hour.” 

“It’s not for me. I went every single week, and more, and I’ve seen it, I don’t like it, I don’t have to go anymore. You know, I love my mom and she is super churchy and I don’t even go with her.” 

“You’re just never going to Church ever again?”

“I would go for like a funeral or a wedding. I’m not going just for shits and giggles.”

“You wouldn’t go for me…to impress my parents?” 

I sighed, “Charlotte, seriously…when was the last time you went to Church? This is so phony. I’m pretty sure we were fucking last Sunday morning, not going to church.” 

“Oh, you’re so hardcore. Oh, look how real I am. You’re a fucking little privileged kid acting all punk rock.” 

“Fine, I’m not pretending to be something I don’t believe in. Your parents think you go every week?” 

“It’s just polite. It’s a nice thing to do. Can’t you do something for someone else?” 

I sighed, “Fine, I’ll think about it.” 

She smiled and kissed me, “Thanks, they are really not that bad. It will be so much better with you there.” She was looking at me, “What do you have to wear to meet my parents?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Uh…do you have anything…sort of preppy? Maybe some Khaki pants, a dress shirt, tie, and jacket?” 

“Are you real right now? Do you have anything preppy?” 

“I’ll put on something nice for dinner and brunch.” 

“…and church.” 

“So, do you have anything?” 

“No, I really don’t. You've seen how I dress. I actually thought you liked it.”

“I love your style, it's just for my parents. Maybe we could go buy you something?” 

“You know, Charlotte…I went to private school and I wore a tie and jacket every single day from kindergarten to senior year of high school.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And, I had to wear a damn tie and jacket to Church on Sunday too.” 

“So?” 

“So, I’m never wearing a fucking tie and jacket ever again. Six days a week for most of my life was enough.”

“What about when you get a job after college?” 

“I’m not putting on a dress shirt. I’m not putting on a fucking tie one more time. I will take a job that does not involve that.” I was laying there looking at the ceiling, “It just drove me nuts every single Sunday. I had to get up every single day, early to go to school, get cleaned up, put on an uncomfortable shirt, tie, and jacket, even when it was hot out and our school had no air conditioning. Then, you get two days a week off. Two days out of 7! And you have to put on the stupid dress shirt and tie and waste half the day again. I found Sunday to be the most depressing day for as long as I could remember. Not anymore. It’s a great day. Sunday is a fantastic day now.”

“We can’t just get you some khaki pants and a polo? No tie?” 

“You’re just asking me to be someone I’m not. It’s kind of insulting.” 

“But, everyone tries to impress their girlfriend or boyfriend’s parents. It’s polite.” 

I went shopping with Charlotte for some dorky clothes for me to wear to meet her parents. She picked out some khaki pants and polo shirts. “See Sam, no tie. Isn’t it comfortable?” 

“I hate it so much Charlotte. Like, I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin right now, but I can do it for you.” 

“You’re so dramatic, Sam.” 

I was drinking some beers with my friends that night, and I got an impish idea. I died my hair green. When it came time to meet Charlotte’s parents, I got dressed in the khakis and the polo shirt. She came to get me at my apartment. 

“For fucks sake, Sam. Do you think this is funny?” 

“A little.” 

“You’re so fucking immature.” 

“I’m immature? It’s immature to care so much about what your parents think about how you dress, when you’re an actual adult.” 

“You couldn’t just look like a normal person for a couple of hours to make my parents happy.”

“You know, my mom is super conservative and she could not stand how I dress or how Deirdre dressed and my mom had to just suck it up and get used to it.” 

“Oh fucking Deirdre! Here we go. Deirdre was so cool. You know, she’s probably fucking some guy as we speak. No, that probably wouldn’t bother you as much as her loving some guy. Right now, she’s looking in some guy’s eyes, saying she loves him and she’s not even thinking about you a little bit. You know what, let’s just break up already.”

I started crying a little at that. 

“What are you crying about Sam?” 

“That was really mean, what you just said. It’s probably true.” 

“Which part?” 

“You know how to hurt me. It was Deirdre saying she loved some guy.”

“Do you know how fucked that is, Sam? I’m your actual girlfriend. I just broke up with you. You’re not crying about that. You’re crying that your ex girlfriend, who you have not seen in person in more than a year, might actually love someone other than you. She’s probably in love with someone else.” 

I pulled off the polo shirt and took off the khaki pants, “Here they are if you want to return them, then.” 

“Fuck you!” Charlotte stormed out of my apartment, shouting, “Asshole!”, and I slowly walked out to the living room, where my housemate, Jason, was hanging out with his girlfriend, Jodi. I sat down on the couch in just my boxers, “I guess I kind of deserved that.” 

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Part 4

“Kneel,” he ordered, and I sank to my knees, the cool marble beneath me a sharp contrast to the heat pooling between my thighs.

He knelt behind me, his hands firm on my hips as he positioned me. “Spread your legs wider,” he murmured, and I obeyed, feeling utterly exposed. The cool air hit my most intimate place, making me shiver, but his touch soon warmed me as his fingers traced my folds, teasing and parting me.

“So wet already,” I felt the cool tip of the vibrator press against me, and I bit my lip, anticipation coiling tighter inside me. He pushed it in slowly, letting me feel every inch as it slid deeper, filling me in the most delicious way.

“There,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “Now, let’s see how well you can keep your composure.”

He pressed the remote, and the vibrator came to life at level six. I gasped, my body jerking as the vibrations surged through me, intense and unrelenting. My hands flew to the counter to steady myself, but Trevor’s grip on my hips held me firmly in place.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, his voice dark and possessive. “Just feel it.”

The sensations were overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over me with every pulse of the vibrator. My hips twitched involuntarily, desperate for more, but Trevor’s grip kept me still.

“Please,” I whimpered, my voice trembling.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Let it take you.”

The vibrations grew stronger, and I felt myself teetering on the edge, my core tightening as pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

And I did. My body convulsed as the orgasm ripped through me, intense and all-consuming. I cried out, my voice echoing in the room as pleasure pulsed through me in waves, leaving me trembling and breathless.

Trevor turned off the vibrator, and I collapsed forward, my forehead resting on the counter as I tried to catch my breath. He knelt beside me, his hand brushing my hair back gently.

The car ride to the city was a blur of tension. Trevor drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting possessively on my thigh, his fingers inching higher with every mile. By the time we pulled up to an exclusive members-only club tucked away in the heart of downtown, my panties were soaked, and my breath was coming in shallow gasps.

The club was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low hum of conversation. Trevor led me through the crowd, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward a private booth in the back. The moment we sat down, a waitress appeared, her eyes flicking between us with knowing amusement.

"Your usual, Sir?"

Trevor nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "And a glass of champagne for the lady. Something sweet."

The waitress disappeared, and I leaned in, my voice a whisper. "What is this place?"

Trevor’s lips curved. "A place where people like us come to play." His hand found my knee under the table, sliding up my thigh until his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of my panties.

"And today, Christine, you’re going to play very well."

Before I could respond, the waitress returned with our drinks. Trevor took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes locked on mine as he spoke. "Drink your champagne. Then go to the ladies’ room. Take off your panties and bring them back to me."

"Here? Now?"

His fingers tightened on my thigh. "Now."
I downed the champagne in one gulp, the bubbles fizzing in my throat as I stood on unsteady legs. The ladies’ room was just as opulent as the rest of the club, all dark wood and gilded mirrors. I locked myself in a stall, my hands trembling as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my lace thong and slid it down my legs. The cool air hit my bare vagina, making me shiver. I folded the panties neatly, pressing them to my nose for just a second, my own scent sweet, filled my senses before I tucked them into my clutch.

When I returned to the booth, Trevor was waiting, his expression unreadable. I handed him the panties without a word. He unfolded them slowly, bringing them to his nose. 

I bit my lip, my vagina clenching at the sound of his voice. "What now?"

He tucked the panties into his pocket before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small, sleek remote. My eyes widened. "What is that?"

"A little insurance," he said, his thumb hovering over a button. "Stand up. Lift your skirt."

I hesitated for only a second before doing as he asked. The fabric of my skirt pooled around my waist, exposing my bare vagina to the cool air of the club. Trevor’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of me, glistening and swollen with need.

"Spread your legs," he commanded.

I obeyed, my heart pounding as I widened my stance, my vagina lips parting slightly. Trevor’s thumb pressed down on the button.

A sudden, sharp vibration pulsed against my clitoris.

I gasped, my knees buckling as the unexpected pleasure shot through me.

"Shh," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "No one can hear you. But if you make a sound, I’ll turn it up."

The vibration continued, relentless and insistent, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles white, my breath coming in ragged gasps. 

"Oh god," I whimpered, my voice barely audible. "I can’t…"

"You can," Trevor growled, his free hand gripping my hip to steady me. "And you will. Come for me, Christine. Right here. Right now."

The vibration intensified, and I bit down on my lip to stifle a moan as the first orgasm ripped through me. My vagina clenched around nothing, my juices dripping down my thighs as I trembled, my body wracked with pleasure. Trevor watched me with dark satisfaction, his thumb never leaving the button until the last shuddering wave had passed.

"One," he said, his voice a low purr. "Five more to go."

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of stolen touches and whispered commands. Trevor took me to a high-end boutique, where he made me try on lingerie in a private dressing room, lingerie I wasn’t allowed to wear. Instead, he had me strip naked, my bare vagina exposed as he knelt before me, his tongue lashing against my clitoris until I came with a muffled cry, my hands fisted in his hair.

"Two," he murmured against my thigh before standing and zipping up his pants. "And we’re just getting started."

By the time we reached the rooftop bar of a luxury hotel, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky beautifully. Trevor led me to a secluded corner and guided me toward a plush chaise lounge. "Lie down," he ordered.

I did as I was told, my body still humming from the last orgasm. Trevor knelt beside me, his fingers tracing the outline of my lips before sliding down to my throat.

"You’ve been such a good girl today," he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

"But I think it’s time for something a little… different."

The conclusion to come
Ashley

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You can find more stories here: My stories

I still catch this guy pitching a tent whenever we have to work the same shift now. The whole goal was to ruin him for other girls, and I hope I came pretty close to it.

So this happened a few months ago. We were closing up the coffee shop we work at. He’s this younger, super quiet guy who started recently. I always noticed him sneaking looks at my chest. I definitely didn't make it easy for him since I always unbutton my work shirt pretty low the second the manager leaves for the night.

We were sitting in the back room doing inventory on our phones. I went to show him a funny video on my screen, but when I unlocked it, my browser was still open to my absolute filth from my morning solo session. I snatched it back super quick and was like "Uh, just use your phone to log the cups." He pulls his phone out, opens Safari, and boom he’s got a hub tab right there open to "petite POV." or some shit like that. Total degenerate, but I love it.

He turned so red and started aggressively swiping out of his tabs. I laughed and was like, "down bad, huh?" Somehow he just totally spilled his guts and confessed he'd never actually been with a girl. I patted his shoulder and gave him a generic "it'll happen soon man." But my brain immediately started being evil.

What if I gave him the absolute craziest head of his life? Like, totally scramble his expectations so no one else can ever compare. Let's fucking go.

I started brushing up against him more in the tight stockroom while we put boxes away. Bumping his hips, whispering close to his ear. He was getting so flustered, sporting obvious wood through his jeans.

Right before we had to clock out, I just looked at him and said, "I'm gonna suck your dick." He froze like a deer in headlights. Before he could even stammer out a word. It was so fun to watch him like that, like I was in full control. I was on the floor right between his legs while he sat on the milk crates.

I didn't ease him into it at all. Poor guy. I went straight to town sloppy, deep, gagging, just absolute madness. Barely three minutes in he started whimpering and bucking, and suddenly he's shooting down my throat. I wanted to ruin him. So I didn't stop.

He was shaking, practically begging me to let him breathe because it was too sensitive, but I didn't give a fuck. I kept sucking right through the twitches until he got rock hard again. I kept going until he busted a second time. Swallowed it all, cleaned him up with a few licks, and right then my alarm went off for me to catch my Uber.

I grabbed my jacket, said "See ya tomorrow," kissed his cheek, and walked out.

Joel

He was in her driveway by five-thirty.

Old habit, he was always early, she was always exactly on time, and the fifteen minutes in between were just his. He used them to finish his coffee in the car, watching the sky go from black to the particular bruised purple that preceded sunrise in early June. The neighborhood was still. A sprinkler somewhere. A dog that hadn't decided if it was worth barking at him.

He was halfway through his second mental rehearsal of this is just a road trip when her front door opened.

Cara came down the porch steps in an oversized jacket and bare ankles above her sneakers, two coffees balanced in a cardboard tray, her dark hair pulled back in a way that meant she hadn't looked in a mirror yet. She looked like herself. She looked the way she always looked at this hour, before the day got its hands on her.

He got out of the car and opened the trunk and started rearranging things so his duffel would fit, mostly so he'd have something to do with his hands.

"You packed half your apartment," she said, appearing beside him.

"I packed efficiently." He got the bag in, shut the trunk, and turned to take the coffee she was holding out. Their fingers didn't touch. He noted this with the particular, practiced neutrality he'd developed over, he didn't want to count how many months. "Morning."

"Morning." She turned away.

He drank his coffee and watched the sky.

Two weeks, he told himself. Friends take road trips. This is a thing friends do.

They'd been friends for six years.

He knew what that meant. He knew all the arguments, that it worked, that it was good, that the thing he'd been quietly carrying around for the last however-long was a complication nobody needed. She was the person he called when things went sideways. She was the throughline of the last half-decade of his life, the constant in every version of circumstances he'd found himself in.

He was not going to detonate that.

He was going to sit in the car seat for two thousand miles and listen to music and eat diner food and be her friend at a time when she needed it, and by the time they got back to Chicago he was going to have gotten a handle on himself.

He paired his phone to the bluetooth before Cara even had a chance to sit her coffee down in the cup holder.

"You always do that," she said.

"Do what?"

"Take control of the music before we've even discussed it."

He looked over at her. She was watching the road, jaw set in the particular way that meant she was more amused than she was letting on. He'd learned her tells the way you learn a language, slowly, then all at once, until you couldn't remember not knowing them.

"You want to make the decisions?" he asked.

"I want input."

"You have input." He held the phone toward her. "Tell me what you want."

"I don't want to negotiate. I want collaboration."

"That's a very polished way to say you want control."

"That's a very cheap deflection."

He laughed before he could stop himself. She didn't look at him, but something in her shoulders shifted, relaxed a half-degree. He'd noticed that too, over the years. That she loosened slightly when he laughed. He tried not to think about what that meant.

"Fine," he said. "Collaborative playlist. But I have an advisory veto."

"That's not a real thing."

"We're going to be miles away from anyone who can tell us otherwise."

She glanced at him, fast, sideways, and then back to the road. "Fine. Advisory veto."

He put something on. Something that felt like the morning felt: a little uncertain, a little open. The kind of song that didn't demand anything.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Illinois fell away behind them in long flat increments and he watched the landscape through the window and tried to be a person who was simply on a road trip with his friend.

He was mostly successful.

The diner outside Iowa City smelled like coffee and bacon grease and something sweetly burnt, and the booths were the deep red of old vinyl and he slid into one across from Cara and picked up the laminated menu and read it the way he always did, fully, because he had learned early that decisions made in haste compounded poorly.

He was still reading when she spoke.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You're going to regardless."

"When did we stop talking about real things?"

He set the menu down.

He looked at her, at the way she was turning her mug in slow circles, not meeting his eyes, the small crease between her brows that appeared when she was working up to something. She'd been working up to something for months. He'd watched it build the way you watch weather build, tracking it from a careful distance, waiting to see which way it would break.

He'd told himself he was imagining it. He'd been less and less convinced.

"What do you mean?" he said, because he needed to hear what she meant.

She explained, reporting instead of saying things, giving updates instead of actually talking, and he listened and understood what she was really asking, the thing underneath the thing, and his chest did what it had been doing in her vicinity for a long time now: tightened around something with no clean name.

"Maybe around the time things got complicated," he said.

"What things?"

He held her gaze. "You know what things."

A beat. Her fingers stilled on the mug.

She did know. He could see it, the slight shift in her expression, the recognition she was working to keep neutral. She'd always been good at neutral. So had he. They'd both gotten very good at it, which was either a testament to their friendship or an indictment of it, and he hadn't decided which.

"I thought the whole point of this trip," she said, her voice careful, "was to stop doing that."

"Stop doing what?"

"Not saying things."

He held her gaze for a moment that went on long enough to be something. The thing he'd been not-saying for months pressed up against the back of his teeth, and he was about to, he didn't know what he was about to do, actually. Something.

Then the waitress materialized with a coffee refill and a pen and the moment passed through his fingers like water.

"Eggs," he said. "I'll have the eggs."

"Coward," Cara said quietly.

"Absolutely."

He looked back down at the menu he didn't need to read. Heard her exhale. Felt the word she hadn't said sitting in the space between them, patient and warm and not going anywhere.

He knew what he was doing. He was waiting for the right moment the way he always waited for the right moment, which was both his best quality and his worst one, depending on who you asked.

But two weeks. Two thousand miles.

He'd been carrying this thing carefully for long enough that he'd almost convinced himself it was manageable. Something about being in her car with her, watching the same sky, sharing the same bad diner coffee, it made careful feel like a word that was running out of road.

Outside the window, the highway stretched west in a long flat line.

Something is going to give, he thought.

He wasn't afraid of that anymore. That was what surprised him.

He picked up his coffee and didn't say anything, and across the table Cara ordered eggs too, and they ate breakfast in the particularly comfortable silence of two people who knew each other very well and were perhaps, finally, running out of reasons not to say so.

As they finished their sub par breakfast and coffee, they paid the bill and headed back to the old ford focus. Seat belts clicked, engine roaring to life, and the music agreed on, they left the diner behind.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Joel turned his head slightly so Cara was sitting in his peripheral vision. It had been a while since they were this close, and he used this opportunity to rediscover the person who was a part of his everyday life a few years ago, when they were in high school.

She tapped her fingers on the top of the steering wheel along with the tempo of the music, her shoulders dancing ever so slightly. Her brown eyes scanning the road, as if she was waiting for something to jump out.

Why did you do this to yourself, he thought.

Because he knew the answer, which was the problem. He'd said yes to two weeks in a car with Cara Hensley because she'd asked and he was constitutionally incapable of saying no to her, had been since the eleventh grade when she'd turned around in AP English and borrowed his pen and handed it back at the end of class without a word, like it was the most natural transaction in the world. He'd been off-balance around her ever since. Twenty-three years old now and apparently no better at it.

He continued to watch her from the corner of his eye. The way she drove was the way she did most things, unhurried, attentive, quietly in command. One hand on the wheel, elbow resting on the window ledge, the warm air coming in lifting a few loose strands of hair around her face. She didn't push them back. She let them be.

He used to know this face the way he knew his own. In high school they'd spent so many hours in each other's orbits that he'd sometimes caught himself unconsciously mapping her, the angle she tilted her head when she was thinking, the small movement of her mouth before she said something she actually meant rather than something polite. Then college happened and geography happened and life happened, and then a mutual friend's birthday brought them back into the same room three years ago, and she'd looked at him across a kitchen full of people and said Joel the way you say someone's name when you're surprised to find you still know exactly how it feels in your mouth.

They'd rebuilt it, the friendship, the ease, the daily-ness of each other. What he hadn't anticipated was that rebuilding it would mean building something slightly different on the same foundation. Something that fit differently than before. Something he couldn't quite call just friendship without feeling like a person telling a small, careful lie.

The song changed. She made a quiet sound of approval.

"Good one," she said.

"Advisory veto goes both ways," he said. "I can also approve things."

She smiled at the road. Not the polished smile she deployed socially, the one that was warm but managed, this was the other one, the smaller one, the one she didn't seem to know she was making. He'd spent an unreasonable amount of time thinking about the difference between those two smiles.

Why did you do this to yourself.

Because the honest answer was that six years of friendship and three of almost-daily contact had not made the wanting smaller. If anything, knowing her better had made it worse, had given him more material, more texture, more of her to carry around in his chest at low-level frequency. And somewhere in the grey fog of February, when she'd called him from her apartment and said I need to go somewhere, I need to move, I need two weeks of nothing that looks like regular life, he'd heard something underneath the words. Something that might have just been longing for open road. Something that might have been more.

He'd said yes before she finished the sentence.

Now here he was, ninety miles west of the city, watching her shoulders keep time with a song they'd both agreed on, and telling himself he had two weeks to figure out whether the thing underneath the words had been real or invented.

The highway opened up ahead of them , wide and straight and patient.

He turned back to the window.

Two weeks.

Cara

The motel was called The Wanderer Inn, which was either charming or ominous depending on your mood, and Cara's mood at eight-thirty in the evening after seven hours of driving was somewhere in between.

It sat off a two-lane highway outside of Des Moines, low and long, the kind of place built in the seventies and maintained just enough to keep the lights on. The vacancy sign buzzed faintly in the purple dusk. The parking lot was half-empty. Somewhere to the west, the sky had gone the colour of a bruise.

"Storm's coming," Joel said, looking at it through the windshield.

"I know."

"We could push on. There's probably something better in forty miles."

"I'm not driving forty miles in that." She nodded at the sky. "We're stopping here."

He didn't argue. He never argued about practical things, only ideas. She'd always liked that about him, the ability to distinguish between a hill worth dying on and one that wasn't. She liked a lot of things about him that she spent considerable energy trying to categorise as ordinary.

The man at the front desk had a white moustache and the energy of someone who had seen everything and found most of it acceptable.

"One room or two?" he asked.

Cara opened her mouth.

"One's fine," Joel said, at the same moment.

She closed her mouth. Felt something happen in her chest that she immediately classified as practical, one room is cheaper, this is not a thing.

"One queen or one king, one queen and a double, or two doubles?" the man said, without looking up.

"Two doubles," Cara said.

"Queen and a double's bigger room," the man offered.

"Two doubles," she said again.

Joel said nothing. She didn't look at him.

The room smelled like cedar and old carpet and the particular staleness of air conditioning that had been running since the Clinton administration. It was clean, though, in the spartan way of places that didn't bother with aesthetics and therefore accidentally achieved them. Two beds with white coverlets. A window unit humming steadily. A bathroom with a door that didn't quite close all the way and a showerhead that Cara could already tell was going to be either scalding or freezing with nothing in between.

Joel dropped his bag on the far bed and went to the window.

"It's going to be a big one," he said.

She looked past him. The sky to the west had gone from bruised to black, the kind of black that moved. Lightning flickered in the distance, still too far for thunder, just light, silent and enormous.

"Storms in the midwest are different," she said, moving to stand beside him. Not close. Appropriate distance. "They have more intention than east coast storms."

"More intention."

"Like they mean it."

He turned his head slightly to look at her, and she kept her eyes on the sky. She was very aware of the six inches of air between them. She was very aware that she was aware of it, which was the more embarrassing part.

"You always anthropomorphize weather," he said.

"Weather deserves it."

"I'm not disagreeing." He turned back to the window. "I'm just noting the pattern."

She made herself step away, back into the room, and started unpacking the things she'd need for the night. Toiletries. The oversized t-shirt she slept in. She kept her back to him and tried to remember how to be a normal person in a normal room with her normal friend.

One room, said a small treacherous voice in the back of her mind. You didn't even hesitate.

She had not hesitated. She'd been prepared to, had her mouth open to say two rooms, separate rooms, rooms with a wall between them and ideally a small ocean, and then he'd said one's fine and her body had made the decision before her brain could weigh in.

That happened with him sometimes. Had been happening more lately.

The storm hit at ten-fifteen.

Not gently. There was a distant rumble that escalated in the space of about ninety seconds into something that shook the window in its frame, and then the rain came, not gradually but all at once, the way midwest storms delivered on their intentions. Sheet lightning turned the curtains white every few minutes. The thunder was the kind you felt in your back teeth.

Cara was in bed, on top of the covers in her t-shirt, theoretically reading. She was on the same paragraph she'd been on for twenty minutes.

Joel was in the other bed. She could hear him shifting occasionally. The lamp between them was on. Neither of them had suggested turning it off.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm not afraid of storms."

"I know. I was asking in general."

She looked up from her book. He was lying on his back, one arm behind his head, looking at the ceiling. The lamp put him in warm light and soft shadow and she made herself look back at her page.

"I'm fine," she said. "In general."

"You've been quiet since the diner."

"I'm often quiet."

"You're often selectively quiet," he said. "There's a difference."

She turned a page she hadn't read. "What's the difference?"

"When you're just quiet, you seem settled. When you're selectively quiet, you seem like you're solving something."

She stared at the page. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky in a long slow wave and the window turned white.

"Maybe I'm solving something," she said.

"Want to talk about it?"

No, she thought. The thing I'm solving is you and I don't know how to say that without detonating six years of something I'm not willing to lose.

"Not particularly," she said.

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "okay”

Cara watched as Joel pushed himself up of the bed and trod towards his duffle bag, pulling out a fresh pair of boxers and his wash kit.

“I’m jumping in the shower quickly, don’t get top scared while I’m gone” he said with a sly smirk.

“Oh fuck off” was all Cara could muster after hours on the road.

She buried her nose back into the book she was using as an excuse to let her mind wonder without disruption. Listening to the sound of the water of the shower smashing against the floor, imagining what it would be like to be in their with Joel.

“Jesus Christ, get it together, he doesn’t see you like that” she muttered to herself.

Slamming the book down between her legs, she reefed the pillow from under her head and used it to cover her face.

“This was so STUPID” Cara screamed into the pillow.

The sound of the shower cuts out.

Cara scrambles back into position and pulls the book back into her face. After a couple of minutes she hears the door unlock and swing open.

Joel walks out with a towel around his waist.

Cara continues pretending to read her book, acting as if she hasn’t noticed Joel appear in the room again.

She lowers her book slightly, peeking over the top of the paper pages.

He had his back to her, crouched over his duffel, and the towel hung low enough that she could see the two shallow dimples at the base of his spine. He was broader than she remembered, or maybe she'd just been successfully not-looking for long enough that she'd let herself forget. The kind of build that came from actually using your body rather than performing fitness, solid through the shoulders and chest, tapering to a waist that the towel clung to with very little encouragement.

She was looking. She knew she was looking. She told herself she was simply observing, in a detached and anthropological sense, and that this was completely fine.

Then he straightened and turned to toss something onto his bed and the towel shifted and she saw, briefly, unmistakably, the shape of him beneath the fabric, and her brain went completely white.

She snapped the book up to her face.

Page forty-seven. She was reading page forty-seven. She was a person who was reading a book, in a bed, minding her own business, and whatever she had just seen was not something she was going to think about. At all. Ever.

Her face was on fire.

She heard him move to his bed. The creak of the mattress. The quiet sounds of him settling, shifting, getting comfortable, and she stared at page forty-seven with the intensity of someone defusing something.

The lamp clicked off on his side.

She lowered the book by degrees, the way you lower yourself into cold water.

He was on his back, one arm folded behind his head, eyes on the ceiling. The storm light moved across the room in slow pulses, white, dark, white, dark, and in it she could see the rise and fall of his chest, the line of his throat, the jaw she had been carefully not-studying all day in the car.

He looked completely unbothered.

She hated that. She hated how well he wore stillness, how he could just lie there looking like that while she was over here internally combusting over a towel.

Get it together, she told herself. He is your friend. He does not think about you like that. You have two weeks in a car together and you are not going to make it weird.

Two weeks.

She looked at the ceiling.

Outside, the storm kept every promise it had made.

I’m an Italian guy, now in my early 30s, but this story happened a few years ago when I was around 27. I’ve been lurking here for a while, and I finally decided to share this experience because I find it incredibly hot. I actually love writing, and I was curious to see if you guys would enjoy my style. Let me know what you think, if this gets some love, I definitely have a few more stories to share.

Probably the most challenging part for me to translate concerns some of the references to Italian culture and choosing which terms to use in the dialogue to best adapt them. Now I'll try writing and see how it turns out.

To give you some context, I am a huge guy-well over 6'5" (2 meters) and heavily built from years of powerlifting. My childhood friend, Beatrice (27), is the exact opposite. She’s tiny (5'1"), very plain-looking, conservative, very intelligent with two degrees. She has a sweet face with long blonde hair tied in a braid, but a very sharp, stubborn personality. She doesn't drink, has zero vices, in small talks she avoids anything NSFW, and her idea of fun is watching comfort movies on Netflix. Visually and mentally, we are a stark contrast except for the nerdy aspect, but we are good friends.

One Friday, she stayed over at my place. Completely platonic. The next day, I convinced her to step out of her comfort zone. I took her shopping and pushed her to buy a slightly transparent black top and a leather skirt. Seeing her dressed like that: sweet face but a dark, uncharacteristic outfit, set a strange mood.

We went to a local bar. I made her drink her first cocktail to loosen up. The place was decent, and Beatrice was actually laughing. Then, I spotted Giorgia (18). She was 5'5", skinny, small chest, long black hair, very elegant, wearing a short skirt and high boots. I had a wicked idea. I told Beatrice to act as my wingwoman. Mover by the alcohol, she agreed.

I approached Giorgia, offered her a drink, and introduced Beatrice as my girlfriend. Beatrice was too embarrassed to deny it, so she played along. Giorgia felt safe with a "couple." After an hour of talking about cinema, Giorgia's friend canceled on her, so I suggested we all move to my apartment.

Once home, the atmosphere shifted. I poured prosecco. I made Beatrice take a few sips, breaking her sacred rule against alcohol. Giorgia sat on the couch right between us. I leaned in close to Giorgia, told her it was a good thing her friend didn't show up, and before she could process it, I kissed her. She was tipsy and excited, but then she looked at Beatrice, feeling guilty.

I put my finger under Giorgia's chin, turned her face back to me, and whispered: "She likes to watch."

That line changed everything. I took off Giorgia's glasses, put her glass away, and started undressing her while Beatrice watched, paralyzed. I stripped Giorgia down to her black panties. My huge hands on her skinny waist created a massive visual contrast.

I leaned down to tease Giorgia's breasts with my tongue. Her breathing went wild. I looked up at Beatrice, called her "honey," and asked if she agreed that Giorgia was beautiful. Beatrice stammered a "yes," frozen with her glass in hand. She tried to make an excuse to leave, but I commanded her: "Help me undress her."

Beatrice approached, eyes wide, shaking with nerves or excitement. She unzipped Giorgia's skirt. I pulled the rest off. Beatrice had a long-term boyfriend before, but she had never experienced anything this kinky.

I started eating Giorgia out. She was soaking wet, moaning softly on the couch while I held her thighs apart. I looked up and locked eyes with Beatrice. She was blushing furiously, rubbing her legs together nervously. I asked her what she thought of Giorgia's noises. Beatrice answered with a trembling voice: "Yes... they are very hot noises."

Right when Giorgia was about to climax, I stopped. She groaned, frustrated. I told her the rule: "You can only come if Beatrice gives you permission."

Giorgia bit her lip, incredibly turned on by the denial. She looked back at Beatrice and whispered: "Please... I'm almost there." Beatrice was speechless. I lightly slapped Giorgia’s ass, asking: "Is that how you address your Mistress?" Giorgia apologized and begged Beatrice: "Please, can I come?"

Beatrice looked at me. I gave her a serious, commanding nod. She found her voice and said: "Okay, honey... I think she can't take it anymore." I went back to work with my tongue, and Giorgia exploded into a shivering, sweating orgasm.

But we weren't done. I whispered to Giorgia: "Your turn. You better lubricate it well if you don't want to get hurt."

I stood up. Giorgia dropped to her knees on the couch and unbuckled my belt. When she pulled down my boxers, my massive, thick member (over 8 inches) popped into her face, hitting her cheek. She smiled, mesmerized. I looked at Beatrice, she couldn't take her eyes off my dick.

Giorgia tried to take it in her mouth, but it was too thick; she could only manage the tip. She got insecure, whispering that she didn't know if I was enjoying it. I played my ace card: "If you need help, Beatrice can help you."

Beatrice snapped out of her trance. I told her: "Come on, honey, Giorgia is struggling." Beatrice crawled over. She grabbed my shaft with a very gentle touch, her hands wrapping over Giorgia's. I asked Giorgia if she liked it, and she laughed, telling Beatrice: "I didn't know they could be this big. It feels like a porn movie. You're so lucky."

I asked Beatrice if she agreed. Completely embarrassed, she whispered: "Yes, honey... it's true. It's so hard and... warm." I praised Beatrice, telling her she had amazing hands. She beamed with dirty validation.

I told Giorgia we needed more spit. She licked it like an ice cream. I didn't force Beatrice to use her mouth; she was already at her psychological limit. I laid Giorgia on her back and rubbed my tip against her wet entrance. Her hips were moving on their own. She asked Beatrice for permission again, and Beatrice, completely corrupted by the scene, nodded: "He is right, you deserve to feel it all."

I told Beatrice to get the condoms from the TV stand. She ran, brought one, and realized she had to put it on me. Standing in front of me, my dick was literally at her eye level. She opened it and rolled it down, squeezing tightly. She looked into my eyes, biting her lip.

I entered Giorgia slowly. She was so skinny you could see the bulge of my shaft moving under her pubic skin. Both girls were staring at it. I looked at Beatrice and said: "She is tight, just like you, honey." Beatrice unexpectedly asked: "Are you enjoying it?" I nodded with a groan.

I hammered Giorgia for 10 minutes until she suddenly convulsed and came again, forcing my dick out. I gave her a moment, pinned her by the neck for a few rough barks, and then flipped her over on all fours. I slapped her ass until it left a red handprint, entered her again, and pulled her hair back. I put my hand over her mouth to muffle her loud screams and pounded her for another 15 minutes, making the whole couch shake.

I pulled out to let her rest. Giorgia, hyper-stimulated, asked if I could keep going. I diercted the power back to Beatrice: "I'll keep going until Beatrice orders me to come. She is very jealous of my cum."

Beatrice locked eyes with Giorgia and played her role perfectly: "You will keep fucking her until she needs it." It sounded like a real order.

I got back on top of Giorgia, holding her neck, and whispered: "Where do you want my cum?" She whimpered: "Inside me." I choked her lightly, pacing my thrusts, and she started crying from pure ecstasy. I looked at Beatrice: "When is it my turn, honey?"

Beatrice looked at Giorgia: "Do you want to feel my man emptying himself inside you?"
Giorgia whispered a weak yes. I slapped her: "Louder!"
She screamed: "YES!"
"Yes, what?!"
"I want to feel it inside me!"

I gave a few massive thrusts and filled the condom completely. Giorgia was panting, her face red from the lack of oxygen and covered in tears. She laughed tremblingly: "I've never cried during sex before."

The epilogue is my favorite part. I asked Giorgia to stay the night. She texted her parents saying she was at her friend's house. I carried her naked into my bedroom. I looked at Beatrice: "Honey, will you join us? I'm exhausted."

By 04:00, Giorgia was fast asleep on one side of the bed. Beatrice came back from the bathroom in her usual conservative pajamas and crawled into the opposite side. I lay in the middle.

Without a word, I pulled Beatrice into a tight spoon position. She had her back to me. I wrapped my arm around her torso, resting my hand around her neck, keeping that subtle kinky tension alive. I was completely naked and she was clothed.

We fell asleep like that. And through her pajamas, against my bare chest, I could feel her heart beating like crazy.

Anyway, this was my very first time sharing something so personal here, as I mentioned in the introduction, being Italian made it difficult to translate properly. If you have any suggestions for improvement, I'd greatly appreciate them. I hope the story isn't considered too short or too wordy. I appreciate your feedback.

Just in case anyone is wondering how things ended: the next morning was completely cozy. I woke up early (more or less) and treated both girls to a classic Italian breakfast: fresh cornetti and hot cappuccinos. We laughed about the night before over coffee, and then I drove Giorgia back home. For now I prefer not to continue with further notions or details.

Part 1

After that first time with Mark i was completely obsessed. For days he didn’t come over and i was losing my mind. Every single night i’d lay in bed with my hand between my legs, rubbing my pussy slow and then fast, replaying how his fingers felt inside me and how his tongue licked me. I came so many times whispering his name, feeling guilty as hell but so addicted. I kept wondering if he regretted it, if he was avoiding me. I had no idea he was married back then… that would make everything even hotter and riskier.

Then one warm afternoon he showed up with my dad to fix something in the garden. I stayed inside the living room, heart pounding, pretending to watch tv in my little tank top and short skirt. My nipples were already hard just knowing he was outside. After a while dad said he had to run to the store for more tools and would be back in about 30 minutes. The second dad’s car pulled away, Mark walked in, locked the door, and came straight over to the couch where i was sitting.

He sat right next to me, so close our thighs pressed together. His hand landed on my bare knee and slowly slid up under my skirt. “Hey baby,” he said in that deep voice, “did you miss me?”

I blushed hard, super shy, staring at my lap. “I… i thought maybe you didn’t want to see me again,” i whispered.

Mark smiled and moved his hand higher, brushing his fingers over my panties. “Oh i wanted to. I’ve been jerking my thick cock every night thinking about how sweet your little virgin pussy tasted.” He started rubbing me through the fabric with two fingers, slow circles right over my clit. “Fuck Ana… you’re already dripping wet again for me.”

I jumped a little but opened my legs wider without thinking. “Mark… my dad could come back any minute,” i said nervously, my voice all shaky.

He didn’t stop. He leaned in, kissed my neck softly while his fingers kept rubbing faster. Then he pushed my panties to the side and slid one thick finger deep inside me. I gasped loud and grabbed his arm. “So tight and warm,” he groaned, slowly pumping it in and out. He added a second finger, stretching me, curling them against that spot that made me see stars. His thumb never stopped rubbing my clit in perfect circles.

I was breathing so fast, face burning red. “I touched myself every night thinking about you,” i admitted quietly, embarrassed.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered, fingering me deeper. “Tell me how you did it.” His other hand slipped under my tank top, squeezed my tit hard and pinched my nipple. I moaned softly, hips grinding on his hand like a desperate little slut. He kept going, fingers fucking me faster, palm slapping lightly against my wet pussy. I was so close already.

He pulled his fingers out, brought them to my mouth and made me suck them clean. “Taste how sweet you are baby.” Then he pushed me back on the couch, yanked my skirt up, pulled my panties off completely and buried his face between my legs. His warm tongue licked long slow stripes up my slit before sucking my clit hard. Two fingers slid back inside me, pumping fast while he ate me like he was starving. I was shaking, grabbing his hair, trying so hard not to moan too loud.

After i came hard on his tongue, trembling and soaking his face, he stood up, pulled out his thick hard cock and rubbed the head up and down my soaked pussy.

“You ready for me to fuck you now, baby?” he asked, voice rough. “I’ve been waiting to stretch this tight little virgin hole.”

I nodded, still shy but aching for it. “Please Mark… be gentle.”

He pushed inside me slowly. I gasped and grabbed his shoulders, it hurt but felt so full and good at the same time. “Oh god… you’re so big,” i whimpered.

He started thrusting deeper, kissing me to keep me quiet. “That’s it baby… take my cock. You feel so fucking good.” He fucked me harder on my bed while my dad was out, telling me how tight i was, how he’d been jerking off thinking about me, how he loved how wet i got for an older married man.

I came so hard around him, biting my lip to stay quiet. He pulled out just in time and came all over my stomach.

We barely had time to clean up before dad got back. Mark gave me a quick kiss and whispered “our secret baby. I’ll come back for more soon.”

That was the day i stopped being a virgin… and the start of months of sneaking around with my dad’s married best friend.

This happened in my art class during my(18F) art class last year and i wanted to share it. Okay so I needed extra credit for my art elective so when the professor asked for a volunteer model for the figure drawing session I stupidly raised my hand without thinking. I thought I would just sit there in clothes. Nope but instead they wanted nude.

When I got to the studio there were like 12 students already set up with their easels. My heart was pounding so hard, the professor gave me a robe and told me I could keep it on until I was ready. I went behind the screen, took everything off and literally stood there shaking for a minute. I kept thinking “Melanie you idiot, everyone is going to see you naked.”

I finally dropped the robe and got on the platform. The first pose was sitting on a stool with legs crossed. I felt so exposed then the professor asked me to do a lying pose on my side…that’s when it got crazy.

One of the students was this guy named James. He’s a senior who is really talented. While everyone was drawing he kept looking at me differently and it wasn’t just in a way you would say he was being artistic, like I mean he was actually seeing me.

During the break he came over while I was putting the robe back on and whispered “you’re really beautiful up there.” I blushed like crazy. After class he offered to show me his sketches, so we went to a small side room and he locked the door.

I don’t know what came over me but I let the robe I was wearing fall open. He stared at me for a second and he came closer to me and started kissing me like crazy.

His hands were everywhere on my body. He squeezing my tits really hard, grabbing my ass, using his hands to rub continuously between my legs. And I was already soaking wet from being completely naked in front of the whole class for an hour. He started fingering me while kissing my neck and I came really fast. I had to use my hands to cover my mouth and he also used his hands to do same so I wouldn’t moan too loud but he still allowed me to let out a little moan because apparently he loved the sound and it just made him to want to keep thrusting harder.

Then he bent me over this little table and fucked me from behind. It felt really hot and intense. We were trying so hard to keep it low because I could still hear people talking outside the door but the moment was just hot for us to contain if well . He pulled my hair a bit and kept telling me how hot I looked up there posing naked. And this time I cummed again but if was even harder this time. Right after, he pulled out and came all over my back.

We cleaned up as fast as we could with some paper towels and he acted totally normal when we walked out because nobody had any idea.

When I see him till date around the campus, I still get butterflies in my stomach every time I see like it’s so hard to act normal whenever we pass by each other because it always gets me thinking “ so I actually let this guy who is my senior from my art class fuck me in the back room after I modeled naked for everyone.”. I don’t know but it felt just a little dirty but what can I do about it because I can’t deny the fact that I actually loved it

Part 1
Part 2

Part 3

The theatre professor Marcus didn’t make me wait. He slammed into me, his penis filling me. I moaned as he pounded into me. He didn’t hold back. He fucked me, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel my orgasm building again, my vagina clenching around his penis as waves of pleasure crashed over me, my screams filling the room. Marcus groaned, his penis pulsing inside me as he came, his cum filling me.

One by one, they took me, used me, owned me, pleased me until I had nothing left to give.. They shared me, passed me between them, their hands, their mouths, their penis claiming every inch of me.

I lost count of how many times I came. I lost count of how many times they filled me. All I knew was that I was theirs, and they were mine, and this, this was everything I had ever fantasized about.

When it was over, I lay on the bed, my body limp, my skin glistening with sweat, my vagina aching from their use. I could feel their cum dripping out of me. Jake leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear.

“You did good, Marie, but this…” His hand slid between my legs, his fingers teasing my sensitive clitoris. “This is just the beginning.”

I moaned, my body trembling with anticipation. I knew he was right. And I couldn’t wait.

The next morning, I woke up in my dorm room, my body still humming from the night before. The sheets were tangled around my legs, my skin sticky with dried sweat and the faint scent of sex. I could still feel the ghost of their hands on me, the weight of their bodies pressing me into the mattress.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling me out of my thoughts. I reached for it, my heart pounding as I saw the name on the screen: Ryan. A shiver ran down my spine. I hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon.

"Meet me at the old boathouse by the lake. 2 PM. Don’t be late."

I stared at the message, my pulse quickening. The boathouse? That place was off-limits, abandoned for years. No one went there. No one except, apparently, Ryan. And now me.
I hesitated for only a second before typing back: 

"I’ll be there."

The boathouse loomed in front of me, its weathered wood groaning in the breeze. The lake stretched out behind it. I adjusted the straps of my sundress, I hadn’t worn anything underneath, no panties, no bra. Just the dress, and the knowledge that Ryan would be waiting for me.

I pushed open the creaking door, stepping inside. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and then I saw him. Ryan was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a fitted black T-shirt that hugged his lean muscles, and dark jeans that rode low on his hips. His dark eyes locked onto mine, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“You came, I wasn’t sure you would.”

I swallowed, my fingers twisting in the hem of my dress. “You told me to.”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “And you always do what you’re told, don’t you, Marie?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. He already knew.

Ryan reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek before sliding down to my throat. His touch was light, almost gentle, but there was a possessiveness in it that made my knees weak.

“You liked last night,” he murmured. “I could tell. The way you moaned, the way you begged for more. You loved every second of it.”

I nodded, my breath coming faster. “Yes.” His hand slid lower, his thumb tracing the curve of my breast through the thin fabric of my dress.

“Good. Because we’re not done with you yet.”

A shiver ran through me. “We?”

Ryan’s smirk deepened. “You didn’t think it was just me, did you?”

Before I could respond, the door behind me creaked open. I turned, my heart leaping into my throat as Jake stepped inside, followed by professor Marcus. Both of them were dressed in casual clothes, but there was nothing casual about the way they looked at me.

Jake’s dark eyes burned with hunger, his jaw clenched as he took in the sight of me. Marcus, broad and powerful, cracked his knuckles, his gaze raking over my body like he was already undressing me with his eyes.

“Took you long enough,” Ryan said, his voice amused. Jake didn’t take his eyes off me. “Had to make sure no one followed us.”

Marcus chuckled, low and rough. “Like anyone would dare.”

I stood frozen, my body reacting to their presence before my mind could catch up. My nipples hardened, pressing against the fabric of my dress. My vagina clenched, already wet, already aching for them.

Ryan’s hand slid down my arm, his fingers intertwining with mine. “Come here, Marie,” he murmured, pulling me toward the center of the room.

I followed, my legs trembling. The boathouse was empty except for a few old wooden crates and a rickety table pushed against the wall. But in the center of the room, someone, Ryan, probably, had laid out a thick blanket. A bottle of lube sat on top of it, along with a few other things I couldn’t quite make out in the dim light.

Jake stepped forward, his hand cupping my chin, tilting my face up to his. “You remember what we told you last night?” he asked, his voice deep, commanding.

I nodded, my lips parting. “That this was just the beginning.”

“That’s right,” Marcus rumbled, stepping up behind me. His hands settled on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. “And we always keep our promises.”

Ryan’s fingers found the hem of my dress, lifting it slowly, exposing my bare thighs, my bare vagina. “Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes darkening. “No panties. Good girl.”

Jake’s thumb brushed over my bottom lip. “Open.”

I obeyed, my mouth parting as he slid his thumb inside. I sucked on it, my tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the salt of his skin. His penis twitched in his jeans, pressing against the zipper.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Just like that.”

Marcus’s hands slid up my sides, his fingers finding my nipples through the fabric of my dress. He pinched them, hard, and I gasped around Jake’s thumb. The pain shot straight to my clit, making me wetter, needier.

Ryan dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding up my thighs. “Spread your legs,” he ordered.

“We have a surprise for you,” he said, his voice dark, promising.

The conclusion to come
Ashley

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Chapter Eight

The Noise

Cara

She heard it first at around ten in the morning, somewhere in the stretch of Utah that had stopped being canyon and become desert, flat, pale, shimmering at the edges in the heat. A low rhythmic sound from somewhere under the car, not loud, not urgent, but present. The kind of sound that a car makes when it is beginning to have an opinion about something.

She knew what it was.

She'd owned the Ford Focus for three years and it had developed a relationship with her that was, she felt, somewhat adversarial. It ran fine ninety percent of the time and then periodically expressed its dissatisfaction with the world through sounds exactly like this one. The front left wheel bearing, probably. It had made this noise before, eighteen months ago, and she'd had it looked at and the mechanic had said it was fine for now and she'd believed him with the particular faith of someone who didn't want to spend seven hundred dollars.

She should say something.

She looked at Joel.

He was driving with one hand on the wheel, his elbow on the window ledge, the morning sun coming in from the east and catching the side of his face. He'd been talking about a project he'd worked on last year, a water treatment facility in Indiana, and she'd been listening, or she'd been doing the thing that had started happening where she was in the same conversation as him but also slightly outside it, watching him talk with a portion of her attention that she hadn't authorised for that purpose.

The noise continued.

She should definitely say something.

He made a point about load distribution and she said "mm" in a way that she hoped sounded like engagement rather than like someone who was thinking about the angle of his jaw in the morning light.

She was a marine biologist. She had a master's degree. She had published two peer-reviewed papers and survived an abort dive in the dark at sixty feet. She was a competent, functional adult and she had been noticing the angle of a man's jaw for three days and it was becoming a problem.

The noise got slightly louder.

"There's a noise," she said.

He stopped mid-sentence. "What kind of noise."

"Coming from the front left. Rhythmic. Increases with speed."

He listened. They were doing about sixty and the noise was clearly audible now that she'd named it, a low rumbling rotation that didn't belong there.

"Wheel bearing?" he said.

She looked at him. "Probably."

"How long has it been doing that?"

"About twenty minutes."

He glanced at her. "You waited twenty minutes to say something?"

"I was listening to you talk about load distribution."

He looked at the road. The corner of his mouth did the thing.

"Pull over," he said.

"You're driving."

"Then I'll pull over." He did, easing onto the gravel shoulder with the kind of smooth deceleration that suggested he'd actually thought about where to put the weight. She noticed this. She was noticing everything. It was exhausting.

They got out into the heat, which was substantial, eleven in the morning in the Utah desert and the air was already doing that thing where it pressed back against you. The road was empty in both directions. Red rock and pale scrub and the shimmering horizon and exactly nothing else.

Joel crouched by the front left wheel and put his hand on it and then looked up at her.

"Did you drive through anything recently? Rough road, pothole, anything?"

"The road outside Moab was pretty bad yesterday."

"That would do it." He stood, dusted his hands on his jeans. "It's not critical right now. But it's going to get worse if we drive on it without getting it looked at."

"I know."

"There's a town about twenty miles ahead. Should be fine to get there at reduced speed." He looked at her. "Did you know about this before the trip?"

She said nothing.

"Cara."

"The mechanic said it was fine eighteen months ago."

"Eighteen months ago."

"He said for now."

Joel looked at her with an expression that was caught somewhere between exasperated and something that might have been trying not to laugh. "The mechanic said for now eighteen months ago and you took that as clearance for a two thousand mile road trip."

"I chose to be optimistic."

"That's one word for it."

“I’m just a girl”

She crossed her arms. "Can you fix it?"

"I'm a structural engineer, not a mechanic."

"But you understand the principle."

"I understand the principle. The principle says we need a garage." He looked at the empty road in both directions. "Twenty miles. Slow. Gerald agrees."

She looked at the windshield. Gerald stared back with his philosophical expression.

"Gerald always agrees with you," she said.

"Gerald has good judgment."

She got back in the car.

They drove the twenty miles at forty-five, the noise now comfortably present in every moment of the journey, and found the town which was called Salina and had a population of around two thousand and, crucially, a garage with a pickup truck out front and a sign that said T. MURROW AUTO  OPEN in handwritten letters.

The mechanic was a woman in her fifties named Terry who came out wiping her hands on a rag and crouched by the wheel for approximately four seconds before standing back up with the expression of someone confirming something they already knew.

"Front left bearing's going," she said.

"How bad?" Cara said.

"Bad enough. You're looking at two, three hours and" she named a figure that was, Cara noted, slightly less than the seven hundred she'd been fearing. "Got the part. Can start now if you want."

"Please," Cara said.

Terry took the car around back. Joel stood in the gravel lot with his hands in his pockets and looked at Cara.

"Two hours," he said.

"At least."

"In Salina, Utah."

"In Salina, Utah." She looked around. The main street was visible from here, a diner, a hardware store, a place that sold what appeared to be turquoise jewellery. "Could be worse."

"Could it?"

"There's a diner."

"There's always a diner."

She looked at him. He was looking at the main street with the particular equanimity she'd noticed was his default setting when things went sideways, not stressed, not performing calm, just actually fine with it. It struck her, not for the first time, that he was the easiest person she'd ever been in an unplanned situation with.

"You're not annoyed," she said.

"Why would I be annoyed?"

"We're stuck in Salina for two hours because I ignored a noise for eighteen months."

He shrugged. "We're in Utah. It's warm. There's a diner." He glanced at her. "Also it's your car. I'm a passenger. If anything this is less my problem than usual."

She stared at him.

"That's very reasonable," she said. "It's irritating how reasonable that is."

The corner of his mouth. "Diner?"

"Diner," she said.

The diner in Salina was called Carol's and had the best pie Cara had ever eaten, which she said out loud and immediately regretted because Joel said "better than the eggs at Ruthie's?" and she had to think about it seriously for a moment.

"Different category," she decided. "Ruthie's eggs are the best eggs. This pie is the best pie. They don't compete."

"Gerald would like that answer."

"Gerald understands nuance."

She ate her pie and he ate his and they sat in a booth by the window and watched Salina go about its late morning, which involved very little but involved it thoroughly.

"Tell me something else," she said. "Something I don't know."

He looked at her over his coffee. "We've been doing that for two days."

"And?"

"And I'm running out of the easy ones."

"Good," she said. "Give me a harder one."

He was quiet for a moment. She'd learned to wait these out, he wasn't stalling, he was actually deciding what to say, which was rare enough that she'd started finding it interesting.

"I almost didn't come," he said.

She looked at him. "On the trip?"

"When I found out it was just the two of us." He turned his coffee cup in a slow circle. "I sat in my kitchen for about three minutes thinking about backing out."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I couldn't think of a good reason that wasn't really just being afraid of something I hadn't identified yet." He glanced up. "So I came."

She looked at him steadily. "Have you identified it yet?"

A pause. Long enough to be something.

"Getting there," he said.

The word landed somewhere in her chest and stayed there.

She looked back at her pie. It was excellent pie. She focused on that for a moment with more attention than it required.

"Your turn," he said.

She thought about the easy ones and discarded them.

"I almost cancelled the trip," she said.

"After Marcus and Priya bailed?"

"Before. The night before." She turned her fork over in her hand. "I was packing and I thought... what am I doing. I don't really know this person. What if it's two weeks of being stuck in a car with someone and it's awful." She paused. "What if it's fine and nothing happens and I come back exactly the same."

"Which were you more afraid of?"

She looked at him. He was watching her with that direct attention she'd stopped being surprised by and started looking forward to in a way she hadn't sanctioned.

"The second one," she said.

He held her gaze.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."

Outside the diner window, Salina went about its business. Unhurried, unconcerned. Two people sitting in Carol's with unfinished coffee and an admission hanging in the warm air between them that neither of them had quite planned to make.

She looked at the table.

He looked at his coffee.

Neither of them said anything for a moment and the moment had a weight to it that was new, not uncomfortable, not pressured, just real in the way things got real when you stopped being careful about them.

"I think the pie might actually be better than the eggs," she said.

He looked up. Something in his expression settled, not disappointment, just a choice accepted.

"Different category," he said.

"Exactly."

She finished her pie. He finished his coffee. They sat in the warm diner in Salina Utah and waited for a wheel bearing to be replaced and the conversation moved to other things, lighter things, and neither of them mentioned what had just happened.

But it had happened. She could feel the shape of it, specific and new, sitting somewhere just beneath the surface of the rest of the afternoon.

She was going to have to do something about it eventually.

The question was when.

Terry had the car done in two and a half hours. She walked them through what she'd done with the thoroughness of someone who assumed her customers were interested, which Cara was and Joel demonstrably also was, asking two questions that Terry answered with visible approval.

"She's good for another fifty thousand on that bearing," Terry said, patting the roof. "Assuming you're not ignoring any more noises."

"She won't be," Joel said.

Cara looked at him.

He looked at the car.

She got in the driver's side. He got in the passenger side. Gerald surveyed the garage forecourt and found it acceptable.

She pulled out onto the main road and the car was immediately, noticeably different, the noise gone, the wheel tracking cleanly, the whole thing running the way it was supposed to run.

"Better," Joel said.

"Much better." She merged onto the highway, Nevada in the distance, the afternoon still warm and long. "Thank you."

"For what? I didn't fix it."

"For not making it a thing."

He looked at her. "It's a wheel bearing."

"I know. Some people would have made it a thing."

He said nothing to that, just turned back to the window, and she drove and thought about getting there and me too and the weight of the moment in Carol's diner, and decided that she would figure out what to do with all of it in her own time.

She put her foot down and they went west.

Nevada

Joel

Nevada was a different kind of empty from Nebraska.

Nebraska was flat and agricultural and honest about what it was. Nevada was flat and vast and slightly hostile, the kind of landscape that didn't particularly want you in it and made no effort to conceal this. Scrub and salt flat and the occasional mountain range appearing on the horizon like a rumour, and the road going straight through all of it with the particular indifference of a road that had stopped caring whether you found it interesting.

He found it interesting. He found most things interesting if he looked at them properly, which was either a character strength or the reason he got less sleep than he should.

Cara was driving. She'd been driving since they left Salina, taking the wheel back after Terry had finished with the car with the decisiveness of someone reclaiming something, and he'd gotten in the passenger side without comment. He was in the passenger seat a lot. He didn't mind. It gave him somewhere to look.

The afternoon had deepened into early evening, the light going from sharp to golden, and she had her window down and her elbow on the ledge and her hair moving in the warm air and the expression she got when she was thinking about several things at once and had decided not to rank them.

He watched the road.

He was, he'd concluded sometime around Salina, running out of reasons to be patient.

Not because anything had happened. Because of the specific quality of everything that hadn't happened, the accumulation of small things, the weight of the afternoon in Carol's diner, the two and a half hours in Salina that had been easy in the way things were easy when they fit, the moment where they'd both admitted something and neither of them had done anything about it.

He was a patient person. He'd always been a patient person. It was useful professionally and occasionally frustrating personally and right now it was losing ground to something else that he was having increasing difficulty calling by a name that wasn't what it actually was.

She broke the silence first.

"Okay," she said. To no one in particular. Like she was concluding an internal argument.

"Okay what," he said.

"Nothing." She glanced at him. "I'm thinking out loud."

"About?"

"Things."

"You keep saying things."

"Because the things keep being difficult to say." She looked at the road. The Nevada highway went ahead of them, straight and empty and lit amber by the evening. "I'm working up to them."

He turned to look at her properly. She was watching the road, face set, the particular expression of someone who has made a decision and is in the process of following through on it.

He waited.

"In the diner," she said. "When you said getting there."

"Yeah."

"What are you getting there about."

It wasn't quite a question. The inflection was flat, not demanding, just direct, the way she was about most things when she'd decided to be.

He looked at the road.

He could be oblique about this. He was good at oblique when he needed to be. He could say something measured and give them both more time and be patient for another day or another few days and let it develop at whatever pace it was going to develop at.

He looked at the road for another three seconds and decided he didn't want to do that.

"You," he said. "I'm getting there about you."

The car was very quiet for a moment.

Nevada went past. A salt flat opened up to the left, white and enormous, reflecting the sky. She drove and didn't look at him and he watched her profile and waited.

"Okay," she said. Carefully.

"Okay as in okay, or okay as in you need me to keep going."

"Keep going."

He turned slightly in his seat. "I've been paying more attention to you than the situation requires since around, Nebraska. I've been telling myself to stop since approximately Nebraska. I haven't stopped." He paused. "I don't think I'm going to stop."

She was quiet.

"That's the thing I was afraid of," he said. "On the morning I almost didn't come. Not that it would be awful. That it would be this."

She glanced at him and then back at the road. Her hands shifted slightly on the wheel, not nervousness, just adjustment.

"This," she said.

"This." He held her gaze when she looked at him again. "Whatever this is."

She looked back at the road.

He waited.

Outside Nevada shimmered and went on and the light kept getting lower and warmer and Gerald presided over the dashboard with his usual equanimity.

"I heard the noise at ten," she said.

He blinked. "What?"

"The wheel bearing. I heard it at ten. I didn't say anything until ten twenty." She glanced at him briefly. "I was watching you talk about Indiana."

He sat with that for a moment.

"Okay," he said.

"I've been doing that. Watching you. Since Nebraska probably as well." She exhaled slowly. "I keep telling myself it's nothing and it keeps being something and I don't entirely know what to do with that."

"Why not?"

She turned to look at him, just for a second, and the expression on her face was one he hadn't seen before, not the careful managed version, not the genuine-interest face, something more exposed than either.

"Because the last time I was in something I didn't look at it properly," she said. "I just... went along. And it cost me four years."

"This isn't that."

"I know it's not that." She looked frustrated, not at him, at herself. "That's not what I mean. I mean I don't trust my own judgment right now. I got very good at not seeing things clearly and I don't know yet if I've fixed that."

He thought about this.

"What would looking at it properly look like?" he said.

She glanced at him. "Saying what's actually true instead of the comfortable version."

"Okay." He turned to face the road. "Then say what's actually true."

A long pause.

The highway went west. The salt flat gave way to scrub. A mountain range appeared on the horizon, blue and distant.

"I like you," she said. Simply. "More than I expected to. More than makes sense for the mere days we’ve had together." She paused. "And I'm simultaneously very sure about that and very unsure what to do about it."

He looked at her.

She was looking at the road, jaw set, having said the thing.

"I like you too," he said. "That's not complicated."

"The rest of it might be."

"It might be." He turned back to the window. "I don't think that's a reason not to start."

She didn't say anything for a while. He let it sit, not because he was being patient exactly, more because he'd said what was true and there was nothing to add to it and he'd learned that adding things to true statements usually made them less true.

The evening light did something particular to the Nevada landscape, turned the scrub silver and the mountains purple and the road ahead luminous in a way that had nothing to do with the actual quality of the asphalt.

"I haven't done this in a while," she said eventually.

"Done what."

"Said something like that. To someone I wasn't already certain about."

"Are you certain about anything?"

She glanced at him. "I'm certain I haven't been able to stop noticing things about you since we left. That's certain."

"That's enough," he said. "For now that's enough."

She looked at him again, longer this time, and whatever she found seemed to satisfy something because she looked back at the road and her shoulders dropped a fraction and the set of her jaw eased.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay," he said.

Nevada kept going. The light kept dropping. Gerald watched the horizon with his philosophical face.

Neither of them said anything else for a while, and the silence had changed again, not the absence of things, not comfortable nothing, but the presence of something acknowledged, warm and new and slightly terrifying in the best possible way.

He turned to the window.

He was, he noted, no longer being patient.

They stopped for the night in a town called Ely, which had more to it than Salina but less than anywhere that would call itself a city, and found a motel called The Silver State that had a neon sign and a pool that had been closed for reasons the sign next to it declined to specify.

The woman at the desk had reading glasses on a beaded chain and gave them a key before Cara had finished her sentence. One room. Two beds. No discussion.

They'd graduated, apparently, to not discussing it.

Room fourteen. Ground floor, facing the parking lot, clean in the functional way that motels in small Nevada towns were clean. Two doubles. Carpet that had seen better decades. A bathroom with good water pressure, which Cara reported from the shower with the satisfied tone of someone whose standards had been recalibrated by three days of variable motel infrastructure.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed when she came out, her hair damp, wearing her sleep shirt, towelling her hair dry with the unselfconsciousness she'd had from the first night. She'd stopped being careful about sharing space with him somewhere around Wyoming and he had stopped noticing the specific moments when she wasn't being careful, which was its own kind of shift.

She sat on her bed and looked at him.

He looked at her.

"So," she said.

"So," he said.

The room was quiet. The neon sign outside sent pink light through the gap in the curtains in a slow pulse. She had her legs crossed and her hands in her lap and the damp-hair, no-makeup, end-of-day version of her face that he'd been seeing every night and that he found, without qualification, the most interesting version.

"We said things," she said.

"We did."

"In the car."

"In the car."

She looked at him steadily. "Are we going to do something about them?"

He held her gaze.

"Yes," he said. "I just haven't decided when."

She raised an eyebrow. "You haven't decided when."

"I'm being deliberate about it." He looked at her. "You said you liked it when I was deliberate."

She stared at him. Something moved across her face, surprise, then the thing that came after surprise when it turned out to be welcome, then the warm version of exasperated.

"That's annoying," she said.

"Probably."

She looked at him for another moment, then shook her head slowly and got under her covers and turned off her lamp.

"Night, Joel," she said.

"Night, Cara."

He turned off his lamp. Lay in the dark with the pink neon pulsing through the curtain.

He'd said he hadn't decided when.

He had absolutely decided when.

Tomorrow. He'd decided tomorrow.

Part 1

Part 2

---

Our freeuse dynamic was going excellently. It may have come along by accident, but Olivia was clearly enjoying herself. It seemed to turn her on to know that I might take advantage of her at any possible moment. So sex made its way out of the bedroom and into our daily lives. This made it so that even mundane tasks–yard work, laundry, cooking–were infused with a subtle sexual tension. Was I going to grab Olivia and fuck her over the countertop after I slid a sheet pan of vegetables into the oven? Maybe. Maybe not. Was I going to make her suck my cock as soon as she got home from her yoga class? There was a strong possibility.

And, slowly, that energy seeped out of the home and into other aspects of our lives. So it was that we were attending a wedding reception, sitting through the best man’s speech when I leaned over, whispering to Olivia, “What kind of panties are you wearing?”

She was in a snug, dark green dress. Simple. Elegant. A gold necklace and matching earrings. Me–an olive linen suit. Breezy and complementary.

She blushed and glanced around, “You know what I’m wearing. You picked them out, Sir.”

I was unfazed, “Answer the question. And be thorough.”

Her face grew redder, “A black lace thong. The one with white trim along the hem. And a small bow on the front.”

“I wanna see. Show me.”

Her eyes went wide, “Here? Someone will see!” Her voice was low but frenzied. She squeezed her thighs together.

“Then let’s go outside. There’s a hallway around the corner that leads to another event space. Nothing going on there tonight.”

After the speech, I grabbed her hand and led her out. Her heels clicked as we rushed down a semi-dark hallway–lights half off, a few catering carts sitting empty along the walls. We rounded a corner and I pushed her against the wall. “Let’s see.”

She wiggled her hips, sliding up her dress to show me her black thong.

“Hmm, are you…” I pushed my hand between her legs, sliding my fingers along the thin band of fabric that was squeezed against her pussy. “Wet?”

“God! I will be if you keep doing that.” She pushed against my shoulder playfully.

“Good.” With my other hand, I pulled her top to the side just enough to access her breast. No bra. I grasped her nipple, squeezing it between thumb and forefinger. I slid into her panties, letting my index finger curve along her labia, drawing out her emerging wetness.

I spun her around to face the wall, my hand grasping her tit as my finger slid slowly inside her.

“Mmf.”

God did I love that first moan that escaped from her lips. Well, I loved every fucking noise she made–and she was noisy--but that first one always made me throb. And so I did, suit trousers pushing against her ass, bulge pressing between her plump cheeks. I slid up to my palm inside her, removing my hand from her chest for a moment to fumble my fly open. I pulled my cock out. Let it slap against her soft skin.

“Let’s get these out of the way, you’re fucking soaking them.” I rolled her thong down her thighs, leaving it just above her knees. I added my middle finger, sliding two inside her pussy, gently stretching her. Fuck did I love feeling her ridges against my digits. Other hand on her hip, thumb pressing against the top curve of her ass.

“Mm, fuck, fuck, fuck. Wait, oh god, it’s so fucking good.” She was grinding into my palm. Pathetically. Desperately. I pulled my index and middle finger out, dragging her slickness up and running rapid circles around her clit. I alternated between doing this and diving back into her pussy now and then to replenish with her soaking wetness. And god was she fucking wet. I could feel it running down my wrist. Down her soft legs. When I plunged my fingers inside her–pulling in a come hither motion towards her g-spot–and then took them out, I rubbed the excess wetness along her soft inner thighs.

“You’re fucking soaking.”

“Yeah, thanks to you.” She grinded her ass against my cock. “Fuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please don’t stop. Please.”

There was a murmur of voices around the corner, but Olivia was so far out of her mind that she didn’t notice. I was the one who was a little concerned she was being too loud, so I moved my palm to her mouth, covering it while I continued to orbit her clit. The heat radiating from between her legs was driving me absolutely mad. My cock throbbing, pressing against her bare ass.

I started moving more quickly. I could feel her breathing speed up. Knew she was biting her lips. She kept grinding against me. So fucking needy. “Right there. Fuck, right there. Just like that.”

And so I did it just like that. Teasing her clit. Circling it. Drawing up wetness when I needed. I moved my other hand back to her chest, rolling her nipple along my thumb. I knew it would get her there. Nipple play always sent her over the edge.

Of course, now she was moaning even louder, but I didn’t care. I was focused on making her cum. Circle upon circle upon circle. She was gone, not thinking, grinding, grinding, grinding until–

“Ah!”

She convulsed against my palm, hips bucking suddenly, violently, followed by a shiver through her body. I stopped, slowly drawing my fingers away from her sensitive clit. Down to her hips, holding her. I slid my cock down her ass cheeks, shoved it between her legs.

“Hold on, wait, fuck, I’m going to cum.” I started fucking her thighs, the top of my shaft rubbing against her labia. I was sticky with her wetness. I held the sides of her legs, pushing them tightly together. More friction. Squeezing my cock. God, it was fucking throbbing.

“Mhm, mm, fuck, okay, okay, where are you gonna–?”

I slid my hand downwards, grabbed her thong, which was still around her knees, and pulled it upwards. I pressed it against my swollen cockhead just as I started to cum. My hand was tight around Olivia’s throat as I convulsed against her, sticky white semen filling her panties. Of course, that thong was fucking tiny and the cum immediately started to drip down my shaft, then her thighs.

She gasped against me, bucking her ass as I let out a final rope of cum. “Fuck. That was fucking great.”

Olivia panted, holding herself against the wall, “Christ. Fuck.” She looked down, “Well, that thong is fucking ruined.”

“Too bad, I liked it.” I held her close, catching my breath, her heart beating against my forearm.

“Guess I’m going pantyless for the rest of the evening.” I let her go so she could smooth out her dress. She gingerly removed the thong, which was absolutely drenched with both of our fluids. She looked around, “Ah, fuck. I’m a mess.”

It was then that we heard the tell-tale bop of the motherfucking Electric Slide.

I exchanged looks with Olivia, “Glad we’re missing that. Let’s get cleaned up.”

​

I had recently started a new job, and one of the perks offered was that top performers could win an all expenses paid cruise to the Bahamas. To my surprise, I found myself a winner in my very first year. Which is how I found myself solo on a cruise with a group of coworkers I didn't know very well, most of whom were traveling with either spouses or their families. I got the sense that as one of the only singles I would be spending a good chunk of the voyage alone, not that I was complaining necessarily.

I decided at the time to keep an open mind, make the best of it, and maybe even meet someone new. Worst case scenario was enjoying the sun and the free food and drinks and coming home with a sunburn and a hangover.  Best case scenario - well even in my wildest dreams I couldn't have expected what was about to happen.

It started the first evening. A dinner for the full team was arranged, with speeches about productivity and rewards for hard work and all that good stuff. Luckily that was the only work related event, the rest of the trip was ours to enjoy on our own schedules. We wrapped up late and most people headed to their rooms.

It was too late to do much of anything else but too early to go to bed. I wandered the ship for a while before deciding to check out one of the bars on deck. I took a seat at the polished wood bar and ordered a beer. I watched a basketball game while observing the crowd around me. Most people were clearly couples. Being single and in my thirties definitely made me the odd man out but I was determined not to let it ruin my fun. It wasn't long before my luck changed for the better.

A petite, attractive woman approached and slid into the seat next to mine. I pegged her as a few years younger than me. She had auburn hair, big dark eyes, and a cute, round face. The corner of her lips were always curled up as if there was a joke that only she was aware of. She was wearing a blue dress that clung to her curves, with a keyhole opening in the front providing a viewing window to her generous cleavage. She was well into the D-cup range and her small frame made them look even bigger. It was hard to keep from staring.

She smiled up at me and I saw an opening. "Can I buy you a drink?" I asked. Not the most original opener I suppose. But some things are classics for a reason. And her choice of a seat next to me in a nearly empty bar hardly seemed coincidental.

The corner of her lip lifted even higher into a smirk and she raised an eyebrow. "I thought this ship was all inclusive? Aren't the drinks free?" She had a soft voice to compliment her soft features and a hint of a southern accent that I couldn't quite place. It was pretty damn sexy though, wherever it was from.

"Yeah but I will be honest, I'd still like credit for the suggestion."

She laughed. "A margarita then." Her cleavage caught the corner of my eye again as she leaned forward to grab the drink. Soft, pale skin squeezed into a tight dress. And a hint of something else, a tattoo maybe, just peeking around the corner of her dress's keyhole. "Cheers," she said as she raised her drink. I was a bit disappointed to see a wedding ring glitter as she raised her hand.

"Cheers," I said and took a drink. "My name is Bryan by the way."

"M," she said. Her eyes met mine and she smiled. She turned toward me and I felt her knee touch mine. The dress had ridden up,  revealing a long expanse of soft, smooth thigh. I didn't pull away and let her knee rest against mine. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I could already feel myself getting turned on.

"Like the secret agent?" I asked. "Are you James Bond's boss? You don't sound very British but maybe that's part of the disguise."

She rolled her eyes. "Em. Big E, little m. And I have a lot of secrets, but that isn't one of them."

"Oh, really? I wouldn't mind uncovering some of your mysteries." What I really wanted to uncover was her body, but I left that unsaid for the moment. I placed my hand on her knee. Her skin felt good under my hand, soft and warm. I realized I was being a bit risky with a married woman. But the signals she was giving me made me think she wouldn't be offended.

I was right. She brought her drink to her lips and slowly took the straw between her lips. She made a show of pursing her lips and taking a long drink while she slightly parted her legs, giving me more access to her thigh. Fuck she felt good. She looked good, smelled good. It was all I could do to stop myself from groping her right here in the bar. An older couple walked by behind us and she pulled her leg away from me a bit. I took a breath and a drink to control myself.

"Well I am not opposed to revealing a few of my secrets," she said. "If I find someone worth sharing them with." Her eyes slid down my chest to my waist and then back up to my face as she said that and I felt my chest tighten. Not to mention the tightness in my pants. She wasn't wasting any time.

We talked for a while, Em getting giggly and quickly tipsy. The conversation stayed light, mostly focused on vacation plans and a bit about work. I was enjoying this even if I wasn't sure it would lead to anything. After all, she was here with her husband right? Maybe she just liked the attention of flirting with strangers.

It was well past 1:00 when she finished her last drink. "I hate to cut this short but I should be getting back." She paused, as if considering something. She looked me up and down a second time. It wasn't exactly subtle. But I had hardly been subtle with her so I suppose we were even. I almost felt like I was being evaluated. A nice guy to converse with at the bar? Or perhaps something more? "Will you walk me to my room?" She finally asked. She fluttered her eyelids and twirled her hair as she asked, and I would have done just about anything she suggested in that moment.

I couldn't help notice that didn't provide an opening for me to invite her to my room. But it was better than goodbye. "Of course," I said, taking her arm and leading her out of the bar and onto the deck. She swayed slightly against me, from the tequila, the rocking of the boat, or both.

It was pretty deserted this late, and she pressed into me as if she was cold. I took the long way around for no reason other than not wanting this walk to end. This part of the boat was deserted at this hour. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, but I can't promise I will answer," she said.

"Is there something written on your chest?" I blurted out. I never would have said anything if I was sober. But I was dying to know and this would probably be my only chance to ask. It had been bugging me since she sat down.

She burst out laughing but fortunately didn't seem offended. "You've been staring at my tits, haven't you?" She teased. She looked each way and then hooked the edges of the keyhole with two fingers from each hand and gently pulled the fabric apart, enlarging the opening. I took in the view. Besides getting a closer look at her big boobs, I could see that there was in fact writing on there. "What do you see?" She asked quietly, leaning forward.

"Something's written but I can't tell what." I grinned. Between the booze, the rocking of the ship, and the excitement of what we were doing, my head was spinning. I wasn't going to make this too easy for her. I wanted more. "I think I need a closer look "

Without looking away from my eyes, she slowly reached behind her neck. She was biting her lip again in that way that made my heart pound. She unzipped the back of her dress and then brought her hands around to grip the top of the neckline. Slowly she lowered it. Inch by inch her magnificent breasts were revealed to me. My cock swelled in my pants, straining against the fabric. She stopped just above her nipples. I could see the edges of her pink areolas peeking over the top of the silky blue fabric.

The writing was revealed now. The word CUM written in marker across her right breast and the word SLUT across the left. I swallowed. The vulgar language contrasted so much with her innocent looking exterior. Secrets indeed. She was blushing, the red spreading from her cheeks down her chest. Despite her outward confidence, I detected a nervousness between the surface. I didn't think many people got to see this side of her. This was a special side of her. Maybe a new kink. Maybe just a hidden one.

I picked my jaw up from the floor. I swallowed. I wasn't quite sure the proper response to the situation. What do you say when a woman you just met shows you her big tits in public and reveals to a stranger that she is a CUM SLUT?

I licked my lips. "Is it true?" I took a step forward, closing the distance.

"What?"

"What it says."

"That I'm a cum slut?" She asked quietly. The words sounded so dirty coming out of her sweet looking mouth. So vulgar on her soft voice yet somehow they fit perfectly.

I reached out slowly. I put my hands on her dress and pulled it down, tits finally springing free unencumbered. I took one in each hand, two large handfuls. My thumbs found her nipples and rubbed them softly at first, then harder.

She took a deep shuddering breath at my touch. "I guess it's true," she whispered. "Sometimes at least."

I took a nipple into each hand and pinched, then twisted. She shuddered under my touch but learned into me. She looked me in the eyes, neck craned up to where I towered over her. She was inches away from me now, head rocked back.

"Prove it," I challenged.

She licked her lips and slowly sank to her knees in front of me. As she moved her hands traced down my chest and stomach to the front of my pants. She rubbed my cock, which was already pressing hard against my pants, in her small hand. Looking quickly both ways to ensure we were alone, she undid my belt buckle. She unbuttoned my pants and slowly slid my pants and underwear down my thighs. Her eyes were wide as my cock was revealed inch by inch. When she finally dragged the waistband past my thick head she gasped as it popped free. Already rock hard and pointed straight at her face.

"Is all of this for me?" She wrapped her hand around it and stroked it softly. Her touch was teasing, feather light. She found my balls and rubbed them with her fingernails while her other hand stroked me slowly. Her eyes were wide, focused on her task. My cock was throbbing. Every vein was pulsing with arousal, the head engorged and already leaking.

Her tongue slipped out between her pretty lips and swirled around the head of my cock. She sucked the precum off the tip, moaning as the salty taste hit her tongue. She moved her head down between my legs and I felt a tongue on my balls. She lifted my dick up slightly for access as she licked and sucked all around them. Finally she stuck her tongue out wide and licked me slowly from balls to tip. Her eyes were locked on mine in the moonlight as she massaged the underside of my engorged cock with her tongue.

When she reached the top, she immediately slid me into her mouth. Kneeling in front of me, she took my thick shaft into her eager mouth. Her tongue teased me while her lips wrapped around me. One hand made a ring around the base of my shaft, stroking in unison with her lips.

"Good girl," I gasped. Fuck her mouth felt good. Warm and soft and wet. I laced my fingers into her hair and pushed her head down further. "That feels so fucking good," I groaned. The praise made her bob her head more enthusiastically, making little moans each time my cock hit the back of her throat. Her tits bounced with each movement of her head. Her dress was bunched around her waist, her big tits and thick thighs on display for my viewing pleasure. "Play with your clit," I ordered as I gripped her head tighter and my cock pressed deeper into her throat.

Obediently, she spread her legs wider, rocking back slightly on her heels. She wasn't wearing any panties and I could see her bare pussy lips glistening with arousal as she began to rub herself. She was shaved bald. Her hips began to rock slightly against her hand as she rubbed herself. Her hand moved faster now, her intense arousal obvious to see. This was turning her on as much as me, and I was more turned on than I had been in years. She slid two fingers into herself and started fucking herself faster. Two fingers buried inside and a thumb on her clit. Her hips rocking against her hand.

I stole a quick glance left and right. The deck was still deserted, the only sounds the distant waves and the slurping of her lips on my shaft, the squishing sounds of her fingers working in and out. If anyone came by it would be impossible to hide what was happening which made the whole thing even more exciting despite the risk. Or maybe because of it.

She swayed slightly, losing her balance and I took her head in both hands to steady her on her heels. She looked up at me, wide eyed, eager. Excited. Her eyes begged for more. I looked down at her dripping pussy. I desperately wanted to fuck her, to feel myself slide inside her, but I was well aware that might be too far at this point. After all we had just met an hour ago and here she was expertly sucking my cock

I settled for fucking her face instead. Taking her head in both hands, I started thrusting into her mouth. Not as deep as before but faster, harder. I was in control now, using her mouth for my pleasure. She egged me on with her eyes, begging for more. She made little moaning sounds each time I hammered into her mouth. Her hand was pumping her soaking pussy even faster than I was pumping into her wet lips. Her hand was a blur. Her legs were spread wide. Her body began to tense, knees trembling. She would have collapsed to the deck if I wasn't holding her up by the head.

"Fucking hell. You dirty girl. Cum for me you little cum slut!" My voice sounded loud in the night silence. But she responded right away. She moaned around my cock as her body exploded into orgasm. She rubbed her clit fast and hard as she came, the thickness of my shaft muffling her moans. I had obviously never seen her cum before but her orgasm seemed intense. Every muscle in her body tensing and relaxing as waves of pleasure washed over her.

I could feel my own balls tightening and I let my cock slide out of her mouth. She sank to her knees, gasping for air. "Squeeze your tits together," I said as I stroked my glistening cock. Immediately, she obeyed. I stroked over her, aiming at the words CUM SLUT written across her DD cups. I was about to make the promise of those words into fact.

She looked up at me, big tits squeezed together. Eyes wide. She stuck her tongue out. "Give it to me," she said and I obliged. Cum exploded out of my cock, making a mess of her big tits. I shot rope after rope on her massive chest, stray shots landing on her neck or dripping down onto her exposed thighs. I pumped my cum onto her, groaning as each blast of cum exploded onto her waiting body. Sadly none hit her lips but I lowered my cock to her and she licked the last drop off the tip of my shaft.

Finally it was done and I leaned back against the wall, catching my breath. She was breathing hard, sinking deeper onto her knees. We sat like that for a while savoring the excitement of what had just happened. I knew I would be replaying this scene in my mind many times so I tried to remember every detail.

Finally she started to get to her feet and I helped her up. Her hair and makeup were a mess. Her legs were wet and her chest was covered in thick white cum. She looked beautiful. I wondered how we would clean up, with no towels available. But she simply lifted her dress back up and fastened it into place. Cum stained the blue fabric, bleeding through. She smiled. "Will you walk me to my room, sir?"

"Of course." I took her by the arm, leading her down the deserted halls. I hoped no one would pass by, because it would be hard to hide what had happened in her current state. Her dress was covered. The smell of cum, both of ours, wafted off her. Luckily we arrived without incident. "That was... Fun," I said, struggling to find the right word.

"Mmm hmmm," she said, looking up at me. Her eyes twinkled. The moment lingered. "This is the part where you ask for my number," she suggested, breaking the silence.

I smiled, handing her my phone so she could enter it. She entered it under the name Mysterious M and handed it back to me. "You're deleting that before we dock, OK?" She knocked softly on the door of her room.

"Of course." I leaned in and kissed her. Out tongues twisted together as the door opened. Her husband was on the other side, presumably eager to find out what she had been up to tonight. I figured she had quite a story to tell. "Good night,"

"Good night," she said sweetly, looking back over her shoulder. "I think this is going to be a very fun vacation," she giggled as she closed the door behind her. 

Look, I know how this sounds. I don't know the rules about stepfamily stuff on this sub. But this isn't a fantasy and it's not incest. We're step. Met when I was 16 and he was 19. Never grew up together. Barely talked until this year when we ended up in the same city. So if that still bothers you, stop reading now. I'm not here to argue. I'm here to confess.

This happened three weeks ago.

My stepbrother Jake (23M) had been texting me more lately. Casual stuff at first. Then flirty. Then one night he sent me a meme about shower sex with a winky face and I just said "lol" but my heart was pounding. I'd thought about it. Obviously I'd thought about it. He's tall, broad shoulders, that kind of messy brown hair, and a jawline that looks like it was carved. I'd caught myself staring at his hands more than once.

Anyway, last month he came over to help me move some furniture. New apartment, third floor, no elevator. By the time we finished carrying the couch up the stairs we were both sweating through our shirts. He took his off. Just casually. Like it was nothing.

I tried not to look but I'm only human. His chest. His arms. That V-line disappearing into his jeans. I felt myself get wet just standing there watching him drink water from my kitchen sink.

"Dude, put a shirt on," I said, laughing. Trying to play it cool.

He looked at me. "Why? Distracted?"

I didn't answer.

He walked toward me. Not fast. Just. Walked. Until he was close enough that I could smell his deodorant. Something clean and woodsy.

"You've been staring at me all day," he said.

"No I haven't."

My face was burning. "Jake, what are you--

"I saw you looking at my hands earlier. At dinner last week. When I was cutting my steak. You stared for like a full five seconds."

I wanted to die. I didn't know he noticed.

"So what?" I said, trying to sound annoyed instead of turned on.

He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. Just that. One little touch. And I shivered like I'd been dunked in ice water.

"We're both sweaty," he said. "You wanna take a shower?"

I laughed because I thought he was joking. He didn't laugh.

"Jake, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my stepbrother? Because it's weird?"

He shrugged. "We're not blood. We didn't grow up together. We're literally just two people who happen to share a last name on some paperwork." He stepped closer. His chest almost touching mine. "And I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me."

I hated that he was right. I hated how wet I was just from him standing there. I hated that I couldn't think of a single good reason to say no.

"The bathroom door locks," I said quietly.

That was all he needed.

We walked to my bathroom. I didn't turn on the light. Just the little nightlight over the sink. Enough to see shadows and silhouettes.

He turned on the water. Let it run until steam started fogging up the mirror.

Then he turned to me.

"Take off your clothes," he said. Not a question

I pulled my tank top over my head. Unhooked my bra. Let it fall. His eyes went straight to my tits. I saw him swallow.

"Keep going," he said, voice lower now.

I unbuttoned my shorts. Pushed them down. Stepped out of them. Stood there in just my panties. They were soaked through. I knew he could see the wet spot.

He reached out and hooked his fingers into the waistband. Pulled me toward him by it. Then he slid his hand inside. Pressed his palm flat against me.

"You're dripping," he said. Like he was surprised. Like he didn't already know.

"Because of you," I whispered.

He kissed me.

Not soft. Not romantic. Hard. His tongue in my mouth immediately. His hands grabbing my ass. Lifting me up against the bathroom wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt his dick through his jeans. Hard. Thick. Pressing right against where I needed him.

"Please," I said against his mouth. I didn't even know what I was begging for.

He carried me into the shower.

The water was hot. Almost too hot. It hit my back as he pinned me against the tile wall. Cold tile on one side. Hot water on the other. His body pressed between.

He finally took his jeans off. His boxers. I watched his dick spring out. It was. God. It was pretty. Thick. Curved up slightly. Veiny. The kind of dick that makes your mouth water before you even touch it.

"You want it?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"Say it."

"I want it."

"Want what?"

"Your dick, Jake. I want your dick inside me."

He grabbed my thigh. Lifted my leg up. Opened me right up under the water.

And then he pushed in.

Not slow. Not gentle. He pushed in all the way in one stroke and I screamed. Not because it hurt. Because it was so much. So full. He filled me up completely and my head fell back against the tile and I just moaned.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You're so tight. Why are you so tight?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't form words. He started moving. Pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back in. The sound of it. Skin slapping against skin. Water splashing everywhere. My moans bouncing off the bathroom walls.

He grabbed my hips. Held me in place. Fucked me harder. Deeper. His thumb found my clit and started rubbing circles while he pounded into me.

"I'm gonna cum," I gasped. "Oh my God, Jake, I'm gonna-"

"Cum on my dick," he said. "Do it. Now."

And I did. I came so hard my vision went white. My whole body clenched around him. He felt it. He groaned and buried his face in my neck and bit down on my shoulder while I rode it out.

He didn't stop.

He pulled out, turned me around, bent me over. My hands hit the tile. My face pressed against the wet wall. He kicked my feet apart and pushed back in from behind.

Doggie style in the shower is slippery. Dangerous almost. But he held onto my hips so tight I knew I wasn't going anywhere. He fucked me harder than anyone ever has. His balls slapping against my clit with every thrust. The water running down my back. Down his chest. Mixing with the sweat.

"You like that?" he grunted.

"Yes. Yes. Please don't stop."

"You like your stepbrother's dick?"

"I love it. I love it, I love it, I love-"

He reached around and grabbed my throat. Not choking. Just holding. His hand wrapped around the front of my neck. Pulling me back against his chest. Fucking me from behind with my back arched.

"You're gonna cum again," he said. It wasn't a question.

"I can't. I just did. I can't."

"Yes you can."

He sped up. His fingers found my clit again. Rubbing fast. Hard. In rhythm with his thrusts. I felt it building. That pressure. That heat. That desperate fucking need.

I came screaming. Full on screaming into the steam. My legs shaking. My knees buckling. He held me up. Didn't let me fall. Just kept fucking me through the whole thing.

Then he pulled out.

"Turn around," he said.

I turned. Dropped to my knees on the wet shower floor. The water hitting my face. My hair plastered to my cheeks.

He grabbed his dick. Stroked it twice. Three times.

"Open your mouth."

I opened.

He came on my tongue. Hot and thick. I swallowed some. Let the rest drip down my chin. The water washed it away before I could even taste it properly.

He stood there breathing hard. Looking down at me. His chest heaving. Water dripping off his hair.

"Fuck." he said. Just that one word.

I laughed. I don't know why. I just started laughing. And then he laughed too. And we sat there on the floor of my shower like two idiots while the water went cold.

We didn't talk about it after. He dried off. Put his jeans back on. Kissed me on the forehead like I was his little sister again. And then he left.

I touched myself twice more that night thinking about it..

Lily stepped into the hallway after leaving Professor Sawyer’s office, her legs still shaky. The cum soaked panties clung wetly to her pussy with every step, a warm, sticky reminder of what had just happened. She could feel his load shifting against her swollen folds, making her cheeks burn with fresh shame and arousal.

She kept her head down as she walked toward the dorms, hoping no one would notice how flushed she looked or her disheveled clothes.

When she pushed open the door to her room, her roommate Malory Holtz was sprawled on her bed scrolling on her phone. Malory was the complete opposite of Lily, short and chubby, with a riot of curly red hair, bright green eyes, big soft tits, wide hips, and a thick bubble butt that strained against most of her clothes.

Malory looked up and immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Whoa… what happened to you?” she asked, sitting up. “You look like you just got railed in the library or something.” She tilted her head, studying Lily’s flushed face and the way she was subtly pressing her thighs together.

Lily’s face burned hotter. She quickly turned away and started pulling clothes out of her dresser, trying to hide how soaked and sticky her panties felt.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered. “Just… had a long day.”

Malory narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it. She watched as Lily moved around the room, noting the slight wince when she sat down and the way her roommate kept nervously adjusting her skirt.

Something was definitely up.

Malory gave her one last suspicious look but didn’t push it. “Alright… if you say so. I’m gonna take a shower before bed.”

Lily nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’m just gonna lie down. Long day.”

As soon as Malory disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower, Lily let out a shaky breath. She waited until she heard the water running steadily, then stripped out of her skirt but left the cum soaked panties on as instructed. The warm, sticky fabric clung obscenely to her swollen pussy.

She lay back on her bed, legs spread, and slid her hand down into the ruined panties. The moment her fingers touched her cum covered folds, a soft, needy moan escaped her.

“Professor Sawyer…” she whispered, rubbing her clit in slow, desperate circles through the soaked material. “Fuck…”

In the bathroom, Malory had just stepped under the hot spray when she heard the faint moan. Curious, she left the water running, wrapped a towel loosely around her thick, curvy body, and quietly cracked the bathroom door.

What she saw made her freeze.

Malory stood in the cracked bathroom doorway, her bright red bush was already damp as she watched her innocent roommate desperately rubbing her pussy through the cum covered panties.

Lily had no idea she was being watched.

She lay on her back with her legs spread wide, fingers working frantically inside the ruined white fabric. Professor Sawyer’s dried load mixed with her fresh wetness as she rubbed her aching clit.

“Professor Sawyer…” Lily whimpered, hips bucking. “Please… I’m your good girl…”

Her body suddenly tensed. A powerful orgasm crashed through her. Lily bit her pillow to muffle her cry as her pussy clenched hard, soaking the already drenched panties even more. She trembled violently for almost a minute before finally going limp, breathing heavily.

Malory couldn’t hold back any longer. One hand slipped between her own thick thighs, rubbing her slick folds furiously while the other pinched her heavy breast. Watching sweet little Lily cum in her panties pushed her over the edge. She came hard, biting her lip to stay quiet, her curvy body shaking as her own juices ran down her fingers.

Lily never noticed.

Still trembling from her orgasm, Lily pulled the blanket over herself, her panties still clinging wetly to her pussy. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, exhausted from the weekend of edging and tonight’s intense release.

Malory quietly closed the bathroom door, heart pounding. She stepped back under the running shower, letting the hot water cascade over her soft, curvy body. As she washed herself, her mind raced.

What the hell has Lily gotten herself into?

She replayed the scene in her head, Lily moaning their professor’s name, the obvious cum stains on her panties, how desperately she’d rubbed herself.

Malory bit her lip, a wicked curiosity blooming inside her.

She was definitely going to find out.

Malory couldn’t stop watching Lily.

From her seat a few rows back in the lecture hall, she tracked every small movement her roommate made. The way Lily kept shifting in her chair, subtly spreading her thighs before pressing them together again. The occasional brush of her fingers along her inner thigh. The way she crossed and uncrossed her legs like she was trying, and failing, to ease some deep ache.

When Professor Sawyer called on Lily, his voice warm and approving, Malory noticed how Lily blushed and ducked her head, almost submissively. The tall professor leaned over her desk, close enough that his presence seemed to swallow her petite frame. Lily’s fingers nervously played with the hem of her skirt as she answered.

Malory kept her head down, pretending to dig through her bag as the lecture hall slowly emptied. From the corner of her eye, she watched Lily approach Professor Sawyer’s desk after class. The nervous energy was unmistakable, Lily shifting her weight from foot to foot, biting her lip, the same shy posture Malory had seen the night before.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the body language told her enough. Lily’s fingers twisting the hem of her skirt. Professor Sawyer leaning in, his voice low. The quiet intimacy between them made Malory’s skin prickle with curiosity.

When Lily finally walked away, her cheeks were flushed and there was a subtle, almost sensual sway in her hips.

Malory stood up and headed toward the front, giving Professor Sawyer a polite smile as she passed his desk. Her eyes flicked down for just a second, long enough to notice the obvious, thick bulge straining against the front of his pants.

Her heart skipped.

What the fuck…?

The week passed in a hazy blur of tension and need.

Lily edged herself relentlessly every single day, following Professor Sawyer’s instructions to the letter. Each session left her more desperate than the last, her mind slipping deeper into submission as she fought the growing urge to cum. She was losing control of herself, bit by bit.

Meanwhile, Heather’s pussy ached constantly with dark anticipation. The memory of what she had agreed to do on Friday haunted her every waking moment, making her thighs press together at random times throughout the day. The humiliation of it all only made her wetter.

Friday had finally arrived.

Heather made her way to Professor Sawyer’s office with shaky legs, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. Her red dress clung to every curve, short enough that she had to constantly tug at the hem. She was a mess of nerves and unwanted arousal, her pussy already aching at the thought of what she had agreed to.

She knocked on the door with a trembling hand.

It opened a moment later.

Professor Sawyer stood there in jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and toned arms. He gave her a slow once over, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“Good evening, Ms. Lawrence. Excited for tonight’s game?”

Heather swallowed hard, her nipples tightening against the thin fabric of her dress. “Yes, Sir,” she replied softly, her voice already slipping into that submissive tone he seemed to enjoy.

She followed him to his car, heels clicking nervously on the pavement. “How many players tonight?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Just five of us tonight. A small game.”

Heather nodded, forcing a polite smile as she slid into the passenger seat. During the drive, Sawyer made casual conversation about his friends and the game, but Heather barely heard him. Her mind kept drifting to what “entertainment” would actually mean.

When they finally pulled up to a beautiful modern house on the edge of town, her stomach twisted with anxiety. Laughter and the clinking of glasses drifted from inside.

Professor Sawyer turned off the engine and looked at her.

“Ready?”

Heather took a deep breath, smoothed down her tight red dress, and nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

She followed him up the driveway and into the house, her heels clicking loudly in the entryway. The living room opened up ahead of them, spacious, well furnished, with four men already seated around a large poker table. All eyes turned toward her as she stepped into the room behind Professor Sawyer.

The conversation quieted.

Jake placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her forward.

“Alright gentlemen, let’s play some poker,” Professor Sawyer announced. “This is Heather. She’ll be entertaining us tonight.”

“Welcome, Heather,” one of the men said without looking up from his chips, already shuffling a deck.

The men were already drinking scotch, their eyes openly predatory as they looked her over. Heather swallowed hard, her confident mask slipping for just a moment under the weight of their collective gaze. But old habits kicked in. She plastered on her sweetest, most practiced smile and swayed her hips as she stepped closer to the table.

She began making her rounds, refilling their glasses with whiskey, letting her touch linger just a little too long on shoulders and arms as she leaned over. She could feel their eyes devouring her ass and cleavage, heard the low murmurs of appreciation. Professor Sawyer watched from his seat with an amused smirk.

The other players were:

-Professor Steven Katz, 62, balding with a round belly and a surprisingly good sense of humor.

-Professor Michael Munroe, 32, portly with a perpetually red face.

-Officer Will Ross, 43, in excellent shape from years on the force (Heather had no idea he was a cop).

-Javier Perez, 29, a handsome Latino man who owned a convenience store near campus.

Heather moved around the table like a good hostess, smiling, laughing at their jokes, and playing the part, even as her stomach fluttered with nerves and dark excitement about what the night had in store.

The game began in earnest, cards slapping against the table as the whiskey flowed freely. Heather moved around the room like a good hostess, refilling glasses and trying to keep the mood light with flirty conversation.

“So, Will,” she purred, leaning close to him while pouring more scotch into his glass.

Will barely glanced at her before turning to Jake. “Sawyer, your toy is talking too much. And why the fuck is she still wearing clothes?”

Heather froze, a shiver running down her spine at the bluntness. Jake chuckled darkly, clearly amused.

“Well,” Heather started, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder and forcing a pout, “aren’t you gentlemen being a little mean? I’m just trying to make sure everyone has a good time—”

Will let out an impatient sigh and unzipped his pants right there at the table. His thick, hardening cock sprang free. “Listen, sweetheart. I come here to win money and get my dick sucked. Get out of those clothes, stop talking, and make that mouth useful.”

Heather’s eyes widened at the sudden command. She glanced at Jake, who was leaning back in his chair with a smirk, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

“Will, I—” she laughed nervously, “can’t I at least—”

Jake cut her off, his voice calm but firm. “You heard the man. You know why you’re here. If you can’t follow simple directions here it's no wonder you're failing my class.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re still welcome to leave… but this is your last chance to pass.”

Heather stood there for a long second, heart pounding, face burning with humiliation. Then, with shaking hands, she reached for the zipper of her red dress. The room grew quieter, the only sounds the shuffling of cards and the occasional clink of whiskey glasses.

She slipped the dress off her shoulders, revealing a sheer lacy bra that barely contained her full breasts. With a shaky breath, she reached back and unclasped it, letting it fall away. Her skirt and panties followed, pooling at her feet. She stood completely naked before the five men, skin flushed with humiliation and unwanted arousal. Her long dark blonde hair fell over one shoulder, partially covering a breast.

Will let out a low whistle, slowly stroking his thick cock. “Fuck, Sawyer… you brought us a sweet little piece tonight.”

Javier and Steven chuckled darkly, their eyes devouring her body. Professor Munroe simply stared, while Jake swirled his whiskey, watching her with that calm, amused smirk.

“Don’t just stand there, sweetheart,” Will growled, pointing at his throbbing erection. “Get on your knees. You have a job to do.”

Heather hesitated for only a second before sinking to her knees in front of him. Will’s heavy hand came to rest on the back of her head, guiding her forward. She parted her lips and took the thick head of his cock into her mouth. He was big, she had to stretch her jaw wide to accommodate him. The taste was salty and musky.

“Suck,” Will ordered gruffly, pushing deeper into her throat.

Heather bobbed her head obediently, swirling her tongue around Will’s thick shaft as he groaned above her. His grip tightened in her hair, guiding her pace as he thrust deeper into her mouth.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he grunted.

Meanwhile, Javier leaned toward Jake with a smirk. “Where’d you find this one, Professor?”

“She’s one of my less accomplished students,” Jake replied casually. “Needed to bring up her grade. She even had the nerve to threaten my job if I didn’t pass her.”

Javier threw his head back and laughed. “A failing student threatening your job? That takes some serious balls.” He took a swig of his drink, eyes drifting down to where Heather was choking on Will’s cock. “So you decided to humble her. I like it.”

Steven chimed in, kicking his feet up on the table. “Give her a break, Will. You know the rules, you want your dick sucked, you gotta lose your chips first.”

The men laughed and settled back into the game. Chips clacked and cards were dealt while Heather continued servicing Will, her eyes watering from the deep thrusts.

Before long, Professor Michael Munroe lost his entire stack. He stood up with a grin.

“Enjoy, Mikey,” Jake said, smirking.

Michael approached Heather, already unbuckling his belt. He freed his hardening cock and gripped her hair, pulling her mouth off Will and onto himself.

“Open wider, sweetheart,” he commanded.

Heather whimpered at the sudden switch, stretching her lips around Michael’s thicker girth. She gagged as he pushed deeper, the men around the table watching with hungry amusement.

Heather’s jaw ached as Michael fucked her mouth with deep, brutal thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against her chin. The other men watched with amusement, placing bets on how long it would take him to finish.

“Come on, Mikey,” Steven urged. “Give her that load.”

Michael groaned loudly and buried himself to the hilt. His cock pulsed as he emptied thick ropes of cum straight down her throat. “Swallow it all,” he grunted, squeezing her cheeks. Heather choked and teared up, desperately working her throat until every drop was gone.

“Good girl.”

Will and Javier both busted out on the same hand. They stood up with hungry grins.

“Looks like it’s our turn,” Javier purred, already unbuttoning his pants.

Will didn’t waste time. He shoved Heather back down to her knees and fed his still hard cock back into her mouth. She barely had time to catch her breath before Javier stepped up on her other side, pressing his thick length against her face.

“Open up for your next treat,” he murmured.

Heather obediently stretched her mouth wide. Will gripped her hair tightly and pushed deep into her throat until she gagged. Javier stroked his massive, veiny cock, tapping the heavy head against her cheek before pulling her off Will and taking his place.

Heather’s eyes watered as the two men used her mouth, taking turns fucking her face, stretching her lips wide. Saliva dripped down her chin while Will held her head in place, forcing her to take every inch. Javier grabbed a handful of her hair and roughly pulled her over to his cock. The men around the table watched with dark amusement.

“Jesus, look at that whore take it,” someone muttered.

Steven and Michael had settled back in their chairs, slowly stroking themselves as they enjoyed the show. Their degrading comments grew louder and cruder with every passing minute.

“Switch,” Will suddenly ordered.

He yanked Heather off Javier’s cock with a wet pop and immediately slammed his own thick length back into her mouth. He fucked her face hard, hips snapping forward with relentless energy.

“Just a little more…” he groaned.

Javier stroked his massive cock furiously right in front of her face. “Ready, boys?”

The men grunted in agreement. With a deep, guttural roar, Will buried himself to the hilt and unloaded down Heather’s throat. She choked and swallowed desperately as thick ropes of cum flooded her mouth. The moment Will pulled out, Javier grabbed her head and forced his own cock between her lips.

He held her there, balls pressed against her chin, and exploded. His hot load filled her mouth faster than she could swallow, spilling out the corners of her lips and dripping down onto her tits.

“Take it all,” Javier growled.

Jake took a slow sip of his whiskey, then glanced over at Steven. “Professor Katz… how old are you again?”

Steven smirked, still lazily stroking his cock as he looked down at Heather’s cum covered face and chest. “Sixty two, Jake. Why?"

“And when was the last time you had 19 year old pussy?” Jake asked.

Steven chuckled darkly, his hand tightening around his thick shaft. “Can’t say it’s been that young in a while. My wife is 45, and the girls I usually see are… older. More experienced.” He gestured at Heather, who was still on her knees, panting and coughing up the last of Javier’s load. “But this? This is a whole different treat.”

Jake threw his cards down. “Tell you what, give me back my buy in and we’ll call you the winner. You can take your prize.”

Steven’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. The other men at the table went quiet, the energy in the room shifting instantly. A slow, wicked grin spread across the older professor’s face as he realized what was being offered.

“Are you serious, Jake?” he asked, voice thick with anticipation. “You’re surrendering the pot?”

Jake simply nodded.

“Done.” Steven laughed and slammed his hand on the table, shoving the pile of chips back toward Jake without hesitation. “A gentleman’s agreement.”

He stood up, adjusting his glasses as he looked down at Heather with hungry eyes. “Boys, clear the table.”

The men quickly swept the cards and chips aside, making space. Steven approached Heather with slow, deliberate steps. She was still on her knees, trembling, lips swollen and cum dripping down her chin onto her breasts.

“My dear,” he said, his voice smooth like aged whiskey. He cupped her face gently, tilting it up toward him. “You’ve served admirably tonight.”

His fingers traced her jawline with surprising tenderness. Then his expression darkened with lust.

“Stand up, sweetheart.”

Heather rose unsteadily to her feet. Steven began circling her slowly, like a shark examining its prey, his eyes drinking in every inch of her naked, cum streaked body.

Heather stood on shaky legs, cum still dripping from her chin and coating her bare chest. The men watched in respectful silence as 62 year old Professor Steven Katz lowered his trousers, revealing a surprisingly thick, heavy cock.

“Lay back for me, my dear,” he said, his voice velvety and commanding.

Heather climbed onto the cleared poker table, the green felt cool against her skin. She lay back and instinctively spread her legs wide. Steven moved between them, gripping her thighs and pushing them even further apart. He looked down at her flushed, young face with dark hunger.

“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re about to get fucked properly by a real man.”

Without another word, he thrust forward, burying his thick cock deep inside her in one smooth, powerful stroke.

Heather screamed, her back arching sharply as he stretched her completely. The room erupted in cheers and applause from the other men.

“That’s it, Professor!” someone shouted.

Steven didn’t hold back. He gripped her narrow waist and began pounding into her with deep, rhythmic thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against her ass. Heather’s small body jolted with every impact, her full breasts bouncing as the older man used her right there on the poker table.

The men watched with hungry eyes, whistling and catcalling as Steven claimed his prize.

Steven ignored the cheers and crude comments from the other men. His focus was entirely on Heather — specifically the way her tight young pussy clenched around his thick cock. He gripped her hips firmly and began pounding into her with the steady, experienced rhythm only decades could teach.

Her initial screams quickly melted into loud, desperate moans as he hit deep spots the younger men had never reached. The room grew louder with approval and filthy encouragement.

“Such a beautiful sight,” Steven murmured, watching her small body bounce beneath his powerful thrusts. His fingers found her swollen clit and rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles, making her gasp and writhe. “Look at her, boys. Getting properly fucked by a man in his prime… not some college boy with a three-minute dick.”

The men laughed and raised their glasses in agreement, taking shots in his honor.

Heather’s moans grew louder and more broken as Steven absolutely ruined her. He fucked her with long, controlled strokes that made her feel every inch. The older professor’s stamina was impressive, twenty minutes in and he showed no signs of slowing down. His heavy balls slapped rhythmically against her ass with every deep thrust, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

“Such a good girl,” Steven praised, his voice thick with lust. He leaned down and captured one of her stiff nipples in his mouth, sucking greedily while his cock continued its relentless rhythm inside her. His fingers never left her clit, rubbing in firm, steady circles that had her moaning louder with every thrust. “I think she’s ready, boys.”

The men knew exactly what he meant. They stood up and surrounded the table, drinks in hand, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Without warning, Steven pulled out, leaving Heather dripping and whimpering on the felt. He flipped her onto her stomach, grabbed her hips, and yanked her ass up high, presenting her glistening pussy to the entire group.

The men cheered.

Steven spat on her hole, then pressed the thick head of his cock against it. He didn’t wait for her to adjust, he simply thrust forward, burying himself balls-deep in one powerful stroke.

Heather cried out, her fingers clawing at the table as he filled her completely from behind. Steven gripped her narrow waist and began fucking her hard, his experienced hips slamming into her with deep, punishing strokes. The table shook beneath them.

He fucked her like a man half his age, thirty full minutes of relentless, powerful thrusts. The room was filled with the wet sounds of flesh slapping flesh and Heather’s broken moans.

Finally, Steven’s face contorted with pleasure. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, flooding her unprotected pussy with thick, hot ropes of cum. He stayed buried deep inside her, pulsing as he emptied every drop into her womb while the other men roared in approval.

Once the night was over, Professor Sawyer helped Heather to the bathroom to clean up. She moved slowly, legs shaky and body aching in the most deliciously used way.

“Excellent work tonight, Ms. Lawrence,” he said calmly as she washed herself. “You earned that A. You’re always welcome back if you ever need… extra help.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Heather whispered hoarsely, her voice raw from moaning and taking so many cocks. She could barely speak above a rasp.

After she was cleaned up and dressed, the men exchanged casual goodbyes, barely acknowledging her existence. Jake gave her a silent ride back to the dorms. When they arrived, he watched as she staggered toward the building, her steps unsteady.

Heather made it to her room and collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her muscles ached, her throat was sore, and she could still feel the sticky remnants of the night between her thighs.

A small, shaky smile slowly formed on her lips.

Meanwhile, back in the dorm room, Lily lay on her bed scrolling through her phone while the sound of running water came from the bathroom. Malory was in the shower.

A new message popped up. It was from Heather.

Heather: Just had the best night ever.

Lily’s eyes widened. She quickly typed back:

Lily: What happened?? Tell me!

Heather’s reply came almost instantly.

Heather: Mr. Sawyer and his friends. I earned my A. My knees are weak and I’m literally covered in dried cum… but god, it was worth it.

Lily stared at the screen, jaw dropping in shock. Her hand slipped between her thighs almost on instinct, fingers brushing over her sensitive clit.

Lily: Details!!!

Heather: They used me like a toy. It was so rough and there was so much cum. My mouth and pussy are sore as hell… but it felt amazing.

Lily: They fucked you too?! Professor Sawyer won’t even let me suck his cock!

A pang of jealousy flared in Lily’s chest as she rubbed her clit faster, moaning softly.

Heather: Only one of them fucked me… but damn, he knew what he was doing. The rest just used my mouth. Professor Sawyer still wouldn’t touch me though.

Lily let out a shaky breath of relief. She spread her legs wider, fingers moving faster as she imagined the scene, moaning Professor Sawyer’s name under her breath.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open.

Steam billowed out as Malory stepped into the room completely naked, water still dripping down her soft, chubby body. She wasn’t surprised by what she saw, she had half expected it. Lily was sprawled on her bed, legs spread wide, hand buried desperately between her thighs as she rubbed her soaked pussy, phone glowing beside her.

Malory’s green eyes narrowed, a mix of satisfaction and dark curiosity crossing her face.

“We need to talk about you and the professor.”

It was the summer following my senior year of high school, and I was eighteen. 

And I guess I should probably take a second to say now that everyone appearing in this story was over the age of eighteen. The first of our adult birthdays had already come and gone, and our next steps were coming up fast. 

I, for one, born in September, had already been eighteen for a little less than ten months by the time this one specific night came around.

This one specific, and very embarrassing night, when I gave my tits, my ass, my mouth, and my pussy to four forever grateful virgins, and discovered for the very first time the wettening validation of offering your body up to be used and enjoyed by those who thought they'd never in the wildest dreams ever deserve it — much less get to fuck it.

It was late — a Friday or Saturday, I’m almost sure — but I was grounded, and had been for the past two weeks, after getting caught streaming myself live and in the nude on Chaturbate. I was too stupid to think about the fact that my mother still had access to my bank statements, and my plans to save up and move out by fall were suddenly shattered.

I’ll be honest, though — it wasn’t all about the money. In fact, it had very little to do with the money; the money was just a big bonus that seemed to maybe offer some eventual independence and freedom one day. I even kept my prices low to entice tipping. 

The reason I really did it, however, was that I fucking loved it; every single minute of it.

The thousands of viewers, all stroking and emptying their cocks; the endless praise in the chat, worshipping and begging to fuck; the ka-ching of tokens pouring in, forcing me to shimmy my shoulders and shake my tits, and twerk my ass and pop my pussy.

And as I got more comfortable, I soon began to incorporate toys — like dildos and vibrators and plugs — and eventually started bringing on friends to stream with me, both guys and girls, and sometimes as many as two or three or four or five.  

Basically, I was an exhibitionist before I even knew what an exhibitionist was — a kink that emerged almost immediately after I discovered in early October that my boyfriend had stuck his dick into an Australian girl who showed him her pierced nipple at a restaurant in Positano, while he and his best group of friends backpacked around Europe before flying off to college (he was a year older than me).  

But now I was an exhibitionist locked away in her bedroom, on one of the last Fridays or Saturdays of my summer, and I hadn’t been fucked in private or public for far too long — which my pussy was reminding me of constantly; always screaming to be filled by something, anything, and sobbing endless tears of excessive wetness.  

Tonight was no different.

 

My family was in bed and so was I. This had been the case for a good few hours, because, again, it was late. But I was still up, masturbating, pretending my fingers were cock, in order to silence my crying, leaking, pulsing pussy pleading for penetration. 

Unfortunately, the discovery of my Chaturbate also meant the discovery of my stash of toys: my tools for cumming big and hard whenever I was my only option. But my fingers usually worked just fine, with the exception of a few frustrating nights where I just needed to go deeper and resorted eventually to sneaking down to the fridge and stealing the biggest zucchini in the vegetable drawer. 

I actually sometimes preferred them, my fingers, and I had started to appreciate them some more over the course of these last couple weeks. I could feel the fine, delicate ribs of my slippery walls as they clenched and contracted in response to the intrusion of each finger I carefully added, one by one.

And most importantly: my fingers were alive; they were warm and fleshy. 

Regardless of my most recent grounding, I had gotten into the routine of masturbating a minimum of twice per day since becoming single. The first time would be in the morning before school, practically right after opening my eyes; or, sometimes, even before opening my eyes at all.

My fingers would eagerly and almost automatically find their way down to my little slit, already seeping with my juices, and I would welcome them happily by parting my legs and lifting my knees, before spreading the juices evenly and probing the tiny little hole at my pussy’s center with the first finger — usually the middle, longest one.      

Then again during the night, even if I had gotten fucked that day — unless the fucking was just that amazing or occurred late enough in the evening to hold me over  — I would repeat this process (the spreading of my juices and the probing of my minuscule little fuckhole) before going to sleep. I simply had to, or else I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.  

So there I was, hours into this Friday or Saturday's second round, staring with wide, craving eyes at the sex filling the screen of my MacBook.

I wish that I could remember what it was I was watching on that MacBook, because whatever it was had me on an absolute mission.

Or maybe it was just because I’d been deprived of being filled with cock or cum for too long.

Either way, this seemed to be one of those nights where nothing I could offer myself would be enough. I had just about reached the zucchini phase, but I was giving myself another chance — the creak of the stairs leading down to the kitchen was always too big of a risk.

I didn’t want to put any clothes back on my body either.

I had already came several times, but I wanted to explode; I wanted my fluids to spray across my comforter as I screamed at the top of my lungs.

I could not scream, however, which was the purpose of the remote control, meant for my bedroom’s television, stuffed into my mouth and pressed hard against the base of my throat, playing make-believe that it was a second cock and turning my potential screams into chokes and gags.  

That was probably what I was watching, actually: a spit roast, or maybe even a gang bang.

I had a fetish for multiples back during these days, and I guess I still do.

In fact, in the aftermath of my ex fucking that Australian girl with the pierced nipple, sex with only one partner quickly became almost painfully boring. An extra guy or an extra girl, though an extra guy was usually the ideal, was now an essential. If I didn’t have something to do with my mouth while fucking, I was stressed. 

Having just came down from my most recent cum, and fearing the creaking stairs stopping me from stealing another zucchini from the fridge, I proceeded to slowly and gently add a fourth finger, my pinky finger, to my sopping, mess of a pussy — pushing in desperately and spreading my fingers slowly to stretch the squeeze of its ribbed sleeve wider, further, until my knuckles bottomed out against the bone surrounding my tiny yet totally stuffed little entrance, and my pussy suctioned around them and swallowed them up.

I jolted my head back and squeezed my eyes tight, moaning into the remote against my throat. Bubbles of spit formed at the corners of my mouth and ran down my face, down my neck, and onto my convulsing chest, as I tested the limits of my pussy’s elasticity.  

With my other hand, I gathered a glob of the goo-like concoction that oozed out of my stuffed little entrance and into my ass — a mixture of my pussy’s self-preserving mucus and horny wetness — and used it to lubricate my already aching, bulging clit that begged and begged for a tongue; or, at worst, a vibrator.

Reaching as far up into myself as I could, I moved my fingers in a “come here to me” motion. And I increased the speed of the hand smushing and furiously rubbing my slimy clit. 

But I needed more... 

I opened my eyes, seeing again what I'd bet were big, monstrous cocks all over my screen — fucking the gaping pussy and the slobbery mouth and maybe even the minuscule but now professionally broken in asshole of whoever the lucky actress was.

God, I wished she was me...

God, I wished it was my slobbering mouth and my broken in asshole and my gaped open, ready to squirt pussy...

I dreamed of all the men all over the world, jacking frantically and exploding with cum, as they watched these long, thick, mindblowingly massive cocks plunge in and out of both or maybe even all three of my holes — hollowing me out, deeper and deeper, exploring new, untouched, and gushing terrain — as I’m sealed airtight around their shafts, contracting and whimpering and choking, and taking only a few occasional yet necessary breaks for air.

My pussy contracted; its ceiling collapsing towards its stuffed entrance.

My head snapped back, nearly breaking my neck.

An agonizing groan charged out of me, muffled thankfully by a mouthful of plastic remote.

My legs quaked and my toes curled.

I began to thrust, four fingers deep; deep as I could reach.

Could my little eighteen-year-old pussy really take all that cock, all that incredible length and girth? I didn’t know, but I was dying to try. That was my other new fetish: size.

I had already had all the normal ones, and plenty of the big ones, too — which were usually attached to the meathead gym guys I’d find on Tinder — but still they were not the cocks I’d watch on my laptop after my mother and step-father would go to bed or leave the house.

The cocks on my laptop, these cocks big enough to actually split you in half, were the cocks my pussy so desperately craved; all the fucking time.

And what about my little eighteen-year-old ass? Could it also take all that cock?

I already knew the answer, but that’s what practice was for.

I remembered the sensation of my biggest plug breaking the rim’s surface and sliding through the practically microscopic little hole. And I remembered how my little ass would then wrap itself around the plug and swallow it, and the shock of the tube-like canal on the other side being broken in by its round, bulbish shape as it pushed against my dildo-filled pussy's exterior walls.

I’d done anal on a handful of occasions since my breakup, though not that frequently; it wasn’t something you necessarily did casually, or with just anybody. But I did seek it out every once in a while, and it was never too hard to find someone more than willing.

Also, I would never really bother with anal unless there was someone or something extra to still pay attention to my needy pussy — so I guess it was more the thought of double penetration that got me sopping, rather than just the anal alone.

The only exception was if I and another guy had already experienced the throb of his hard cock getting clenched by the grip of my flooding pussy too many times for it to still be exciting. In those cases, I would almost always give him my little asshole, and I would stuff my lonely pussy and swirl my crying clit with my own loving fingers.

Like I was doing right now...  

And then how about my tiny little eighteen-year-old throat? Could its soft muscles stretch wide like my pussy to make room for all that cock? How deep could I take all that length and girth before finally heaving?

I already knew the answer to that as well. But this time the answer was yes.

I swore back then that I had something like a g-spot somewhere back there in my throat; I swore I had fully cum on multiple occasions whenever someone with enough size could reach deep enough to touch it as they fucked my pretty face. 

My pussy would pulse and tingle and contract without even the slightest touch, and it would leak its fluids onto the floor beneath me — drop by drop like a faucet. And my hips would writhe and I would scream with an overwhelming, hands-free pleasure right into their long, thick cock like it was a microphone — choking and gagging away. 

But no one believed me; my friends told me teasingly that maybe I was just too much of a whore, until I brought a couple of them along one day to watch me suck the big, beautifully black cock of the guy we’d buy our weed, molly, acid, and whatever else from. 

He had face tattoos and cornrows, and he was really fucking hot without or without his gigantic dick. But lucky for him, and me, and whoever else has ever tried it, gigantic would even be an understatement.

I’m not sure how long it was exactly, but if it’s possible for a human cock to be literally a foot in length — like twelve whole inches or maybe even more — then his was. And it was as thick as a forearm from base to tip. 

It was so fucking big that he was afraid to even fuck me with it. He said I couldn’t handle it, that it would hurt me, no matter how often or how convincingly I begged him to at least let me try to take it in my poor little pussy that always drenched itself at the very thought. 

I’d begged him like this for months and months — ever since we first made our agreement that guaranteed free “goods” in exchange for passionate, sloppy head from a suburban white girl — but he never caved. 

My mouth was never off limits, though — so he was more than open to allowing my friends to watch as I proved that I could indeed make myself cum, and cum in full, by simply throating extra large cock.

Feeling all that warmth and weight and all that suffocating size consuming the entirety of my poor mouth and prying open my jaw en route to my throat, I squirmed wildly on my bed, burying my four fingers deeper and deeper into my stuffed, soaking fuckhole — and choked and gagged on my own moans.

My wetness sloshed and crashed in waves against my pussy’s widened walls and splashed out all over the sheets. I prayed that no one could hear. 

I lifted my legs higher and spread them wider, pressing them against the abundance of tittage dispersed weightily across my chest and bouncing in rhythm with the short and shallow yet ever-stretching thrusts of my fingers.

My pussy clenched and nearly spit them out, but I wouldn’t relent, and I suddenly felt the air of my bedroom’s rotating fan lovingly lick my now exposed and slightly open asshole. 

I whimpered and my back arched instinctively with intense satisfaction, pushing my asshole out further, as I increased the speed and pressure of the hand digging into my clit.

My gooey fluids pooled around my ass and streamed down my crack, soaking my bed. 

I snapped my head back and opened my mouth wider, extending my tongue and allowing the remote to sink deeper.

I thrusted harder and rubbed faster and presented my asshole for the fan’s air to devour. 

My torso started to jerk forward violently and uncontrollably with near-orgasm spasms, and my legs shook like I was seizing.

I could feel the fluids monsooning inside of me, ready to spray.  

Finally.

The imaginary airtight cocks pumped into my slobbering mouth and my sopping pussy, and the third ate my blossoming ass to prepare it for entrance.

My naked body, covered in its own sex fluids and saliva, jolted off the bed and became momentarily paralyzed as if it’d just been exorcised.

But my fingers, still, went faster and faster, harder and harder.

My jaw burst open and locked. 

My eyes squeezed tighter.

The sounds of my sloppy wetness filled the room and most likely bled into the hall.

Now what could I use to penetrate my forbidden little hole? I began to scan the room.

But right then… 

My laptop went: Ding. 

A notification...

Shit! Was it my mother?! 

My eyes shot open and I froze.

My heart beat so fast that it jiggled my tits.  

Could she hear my wetness sloshing and splashing all over the place as I plunged into it and worked my fingers back and forth?

Was it that loud?

I mean, I was absolutely fucking soaked...

I could feel the doughiness of my asscheeks underneath me trickling with juice, and I could hear the trickles pattering softly against the comforter.

I stayed still, silent, listening, closely.   

After a minute or so, there was still nothing. No doors, no footsteps.  

My mother surely would’ve been at my door by now if my pussy had woken her. And she surely wouldn’t have bothered texting either; she would’ve wanted to catch me in the act. 

It couldn’t have been her. 

Another ding.

Not yet ready to remove the four pruning fingers from my dripping pussy (it wasn’t easy getting them all in there and I didn’t want to start over) I left them right where they were and carefully lowered myself back to flat on the bed, grimacing at the frame’s obnoxious creaks and looking curiously at the screen:

A Snapchat notification (well two of them, obviously) sat in the top right corner. I had to look closer through my still readjusting eyes, unconvinced that I was seeing what I was seeing.

It was just so random. 

But it was real. 

They were snapchats from this guy named Henry.

This nerd named Henry...

The Lacrosse Team Story Hub

Chapter 7: The Group Project

As I got ready and walked out of my apartment door on Saturday, I was filled with a new degree of excitement. Today I would be traveling with the team to Notre Dame for our next game and tonight I would be sharing a room with Jenny, one of the assistant coaches. Savannah told us that she had used a random name generator app on her phone and it chose her to be my roommate for trip.

Despite that excitement, anxiety also constricted my chest. This was an entirely new ball game. I wasn’t sure what the expectations were following our agreement earlier in the week. What are we going to say to each other on the trip there? Is it going to be awkward. Would all the coaches still go out as a group? Would Jenny and I do our own thing? How far did she want to take things?

As I walked to meet the team bus, I had many questions and few answers.

Once I joined the team outside the athletic center to wait for our ride, I saw Jenny make a beeline for me. At least that took the guessing out of whether she wanted to talk to me before tonight.

“Good morning!” she said cheerfully as she waved me away from the group. “I have to say, I’m quite excited for tonight.”

“Me too!” I agreed. “What are you thinking we should do?” I asked, hoping not to betray my stress.

“Well, I was imagining being in your shoes. If I were you, I’d be a bit unsure what to expect.”

“You’ve got me pinned,” I replied with a smile, glad that she already knew how I was feeling.

“So my first question is do you want me to be in charge of our plans? Or do you want to be in control?”

“If given the option, I’d love it for you to be in charge,” I answered honestly.

“Ok. Any boundaries you want to make sure we don’t cross?”

“None that we haven’t already talked about.”

“Excellent. Here’s what I’m thinking then. I put us together on today’s flight. All day, I’d like for you to tease me: A little grab here. A sneaky kiss there. Things like that.”

“Oh I already like the sound of this.”

“Then, after team dinner tonight I think we should go have a couple drinks with the girls, then back to our room for fun. Sound like a plan?”

“Definitely. I love that,” I replied. I glanced over at the team to make sure no one was looking and gave Jenny’s ass a quick squeeze.

“Oooh,” she yipped. “Yes, just like that,” she said with a devilish grin.

*******

It had been a long day by the time we got through our team dinner. I was grateful that Jenny let the other coaches in on the plan. Hopefully that would cut down on some of the teasing or questions from them.

Jenny and I had enjoyed subtly touching each other and teasing on our flight over—I was basically hard the entire time. And I had appreciated getting to know her better. She was originally from California and had moved to the east coast to play college lacrosse. Since then, she had coached with a few different staffs until landing here while Savannah was still playing in undergrad. She said she had known that Sav was a born leader even back then and was grateful to coach under her now, even though she was quite a bit younger.

Jenny told me that she had once been married for a year when she was younger, but it just wasn’t a good fit. Since then, she’d had a couple of serious partners but mostly enjoyed playing the field. She also mentioned that she was bi-sexual and enjoyed being with men and women equally, though often for different reasons, which gave me a lot to think about as we prepared for landing.

Our game was a nail-biter. There were probably half a dozen lead changes in the last five minutes and we eked out win when we scored with only 20 seconds left. It was, by far, the closest match since I started helping out the team, which meant that everyone’s nerves were a bit fried by the end. It was cool to see Savannah in action making changes to her game plan as needed and adjusting on the fly. Once again, I was beyond impressed by her mind for the game.

At dinner, we picked a nearby bar within walking distance to go to for a couple drinks. The other ladies decided that they weren’t going to go dancing or anything so we didn’t need to change out of our casual clothes.

As we sat around a high-top table finishing our second round, Brit finally lost control of her mouth: “So, you guys gonna fuck each other’s brains out tonight? God I’m so fucking jealous!” I felt my face turn red in a hurry.

“Brit! We agreed we weren’t going to bring it up!” Erin chided.

“You knew I couldn’t keep that promise. And honestly, I’m proud of myself for holding off for this long.”

“It’s fine. She can ask. Doesn’t mean we’re going to tell her anything!” Jenny retorted.

“Oh c’mon. I’m sure you’ll crack eventually. I hope you’ve been using your XL dildos this week, otherwise tonight is gonna fucking hurt with his monster cock.”

“You’re too much,” Savannah said simply.

“Oh please. Have the rest of you not also been at home every night pounding your own pussies thinking of his dick?”

“Brit, shut the fuck up,” I ordered, hoping to end this conversation.

Erin, Jenny, and Savannah all busted up laughing while Brit just dropped her jaw in shock.

“Well, well, well, look who found a voice,” Jenny said, sounding impressed and tossing back the rest of her drink. “I think that’s our cue. Ready to head back?” she asked me with an eyebrow raise.

I nodded and finished off the rest of my own beer. Standing up, I held out my hand to her. She took it with a smile and said “Night, ladies,” as we began to walk off.

“Hope you can’t walk tomorrow!” Brit called after us. Jenny silently gave her the one finger salute as we continued our exit.

As soon as we got outside the bar, I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss. All day I had been trying to get a read on what she was looking for: Tender, gentle seduction? Raw feral physicality? Being in control? Being controlled?

Despite observing and thinking about this all day, I still didn’t have a clue. So, I decided to just go with what felt natural for me and hoped that she was be receptive to the authenticity. For now, I wanted to kiss her.

And she wanted to kiss me back.

She met my mouth and tongue in a violent game of twister in the alleyway outside as her hands slid up under my shirt and explored. My hands cradled her chin and neck as I tasted the salty sweetness of the margarita she had just finished—it was delightful. Her hands continued to roam as one came around my abdomen and toyed with the waistband of my jeans.

“Are you hard for me, yet?” she whispered in my ear.

“Why don’t you find out?” I asked as one of my hands slid down her back and gave her ass a squeeze through her leggings.

At this, she simultaneously pounced back on my mouth as her hand dove into my pants, where she learned that I was, indeed, hard for her.

“Oh, fuck. We gotta get back to the hotel,” she panted as she wrapped her fingertips around my girth. I grabbed her hand and began marching us back towards the hotel, grateful it wasn’t far.

The door to the elevator closed behind us and we were on each other again immediately. As our mouths met again, her hand was grabbing at my dick through my pants while I squeezed at both of her ass cheeks. When the elevator dinged and the door opened at our floor, she grabbed my hand and literally began running down the hallway towards our room.

After fumbling with our keycard and pushing through the door, Jenny shoved me back onto the bed and climbed on top of me. Our lips re-attached as she straddled me and started grinding her crotch on mine.

“I originally wanted to take things slow,” she gasped in between kisses. “But now I just NEED you inside me. Can we circle back to the foreplay later?”

“Fuck yes,” I said excitedly. She lifted herself up off me and stood up next to the bed as she grabbed at the hem of her shirt, lifting both it and her bra underneath off entirely.

I had seen her tits earlier that week when I came on them, but everything happened so fast that I hadn’t really had the opportunity to take them in. They were perfectly suited to her athletic body. Not too big, but plenty of weight for them to be tantalizing. I couldn’t wait to play with them.

Then, she reached for the waistband of her stretchy leggings and pulled down, revealing a sexy lacy thong that I imagined she had picked out specially for tonight. As she began pulling these off, a long strand of grool remained connected to her pussy until she had gotten them to her knees.

“These are completely soaked through. You’ve had me so fucking wet today,” she said as she kicked them away.

I finally had the chance to take her in fully, and she was magnificent. Wavy brown hair topped a tanned athletic figure that she clearly spent significant time maintaining. Her lovely tits led down a tight abdomen to a patch of well-manicured pubic hair, below which I could see a pair of meaty inner lips. A muscular ass topped long, toned legs. Although there were signs of age here and there, I couldn’t wait to explore that body further.

“I’m glad you seem to like what you see, but I really need you to get undressed now,” she requested, pulling me from my reverie.

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” I replied quickly, popping up and beginning to undress. As I yanked my boxers off last, I asked, “Should I grab a condom?” I had brought some in my bag, but wasn’t sure what the plan would be.

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that, hon. I’ve been taken care of for a long time. And by the time we’re done, I want to feel coated in your cum inside and out. Now lie back on that bed,” she instructed while pulling back the comforter and sheets. Jenny generally seemed self-assured, but I had certainly not seen her this confidently dominant, even in her role as a coach. It was hot as fuck.

I followed her orders and she was quickly back on top of me. She pinned my cock up against my stomach as she slid her sopping pussy up and down along it’s length. Even that felt good.

She looked me in the eyes, and said, “Brit was right. I’ve been using my biggest dildo all week thinking of you. I probably came ten times in the last four days thinking of this moment,” she admitted. “And I can’t believe I’m the first one of us that actually gets to ride it. Those bitches can’t stop telling me how jealous they are.”

To hear how much she had been thinking of me and how much they all had been talking about me turned me on even more. I couldn’t wait to be inside Jenny as I looked up at her beautiful tits and body.

“You ready for me to ‘fuck your brains out’ to put it in Brit’s crass words?” she asked as she lifted her hips up and grabbed my shaft.

“So fucking ready,” I replied excitedly as I felt her guide my tip to her drenched hole.

She simply grinned as she aggressively dropped her weight down onto me. Most women I had been with needed some easing in, but not Jenny. She was quite ready.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck! That feels even better than I had imagined!” she groaned as she threw her head back in pleasure.

Her pussy felt amazing for me, too. Although not quite as tight as others had been, it still felt like a perfect grip on my cock all the way from the base up to the head.

She leaned back and balanced her hands on my thighs, her feet firmly planted on the bed next to my hips as she quickly began bouncing on my dick. Somehow, each time she dropped down it felt better than the one previous, and every time she slid herself back up to my tip, the suction of her lips made me moan in pleasure.

I reached up and started playing with her clit using my thumb, her leaned-back posture giving me perfect access. So far, she had been on the quieter end, with small whimpers here and there, but now she began to moan in earnest with the new sensation.

“Fuck!” she panted. “Wait, I don’t want to come yet. Flip, me over,” she requested as she slid off of me.

She quickly turned around and got on her hands and knees, presenting her ass up to me. I tipped forward onto my knees and wiggled my head up along her slit and her clit. “Just put it in! Please!” she begged.

Needing no further invitation, I plunged my dick deep into her pussy. “Ohhhhhhhhhh,” she moaned as I bottomed out. My balls rested up against her clit. “You’re gonna make me come so hard like this.”

I grabbed her hips while guiding my cock back out of her wet hole, and then slammed my length back into her, eliciting another loud moan. Again, and again, and again I pounded my cock into her pussy as I could feel her orgasm (and mine) growing closer with each progressive thrust. After a couple dozen more of these, I knew she was at her limit as her moans became unceasing.

Finally, it hit her.

“Fuckinngggggg shittttttt,” she wailed as her arms collapsed from under her and her face slammed into the pillows, which barely helped to deaden the sounds she was making. I felt her pussy contracting and relaxing in turns around my cock as her legs shook. From my point of view I could even see her anus pulsing from the waves of her climax. I watched her back heave with her quick breaths as the intensity of her orgasm continued to flow through her.

This went on for a few minutes until she eventually slid off my cock entirely and rolled onto her back, her curly hair splayed all over the pillows underneath her. Still panting a little, she looked up at me and softly said, “That was insane. Holy fuck.”

“Yeah, that was incredible,”I agreed.

“Ready to finish the job?” she asked me with a smile. Spreading her legs for me, she added, “I still need to feel that cum inside me.”

I just grinned and propped myself back up on my knees, guiding my cock back to her entrance.

I rubbed my tip along her slit and pushed, plunging back in with my whole length. “Fuck me! Hard!” she requested.

“Absolutely!” I replied. I grabbed her thighs and lifted her ass off the bed so that I could get a bit better leverage, and began pounding my cock into her. Going so hard felt good to me, and with each stroke I was taken closer and closer to my own climax.

Soon enough, I was right on the edge. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna commmmmmme,” I moaned as I continued hammering away.

“Fill me up, Andy!” Jenny demanded.

That did it. I slammed into her one more time as deep as I could go, and in an instant, I felt my cock begin to throb as I unloaded into her, my muscles tensing with the overwhelming sensation of my orgasm. “Fuuuuuck,” I groaned as my dick emptied and I fell on top of her, our mouths connecting in another passionate kiss.

I pulled out and watched as my cum leaked from her slit.

“Tonight has already been wonderful, and we’ve only just started,” Jenny said warmly as I lay down next to her and kissed her again. Light kisses quickly turned to making out and then I started to explore.

I kissed down her neck and collar bone until I finally was able to get adequately acquainted with her boobs. They felt even better than they looked. I licked her nipples and massaged each breast. “Oooh, that feels nice,” she cooed as I let my mouth casually wander and eventually return back to her hers.

My hand slipped down her abdomen until it found her pussy again, sticky with cum. I caressed her lips and her clit softly and without urgency. We had plenty of time and no hurry.

“Looking to finish what you started the other night?” she teased. Her fingers traced around my pecs and encircled each of my abs as they slithered down towards my cock.

“Oh, very much,” I replied with a matching tone as I started exploring her vagina, her inner thigh, her vulva. Slowly, I homed in on her clit with increasing intentionality. “Yes. That feels goodddd,” she purred as she wrapped her hand around my shaft and began sliding it up and down.

With each passing minute, her whimpers of pleasure grew, eventually turning into moans. Soon enough, her hand was wildly rubbing my cock as her body spasmed from one position into another like she was being shocked.

“Yes. Yes. Yes!” she chanted as I maintained my rhythm and motion, despite her wild movement.

“Yes! YES! YES!” she screamed as her second orgasm of the night overcame her. This time, instead of shaking and collapsing, her muscles tensed and her legs clamped around my hand. “YESSSS!” she howled, no longer caring if any of the surrounding hotel rooms could hear us. I thought for a moment about Savannah and Erin one room over and two of the players on the other side of us. If any of them were back in their rooms, they would surely be hearing Jenny quite clearly.

As she came, her mouth re-attached to mine as she kissed me as if she was trying to devour my tongue. My fingers started to go numb from the pressure pinning them between her thighs.

“Good god, you’re good at that,” she said once she started to come down and release. ”Brit’s right. If you’re not in one of our player’s beds every night, it’s a damn shame. Waste of good talent, honestly.” She chuckled and I laughed along with her.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said with a devilish grin. “But first, I have a confession to make.”

“Oh really? I love a good secret,” I replied with a conspiring look as she shimmied her way down towards the foot of the bed in between my legs.

“When you came all over my chest the other night, and I went to the bathroom to clean up, I tasted some. It was goddamn delicious. Tonight, we’re not wasting a drop of that tasty elixir.” She was also not wasting any time as she wrapped her lips around my head and quickly took in as much length as she could.

Her experience was apparent as she made me feel things I’d never felt from a blowjob before. I momentarily considered how much money she could make doing an online masterclass on her technique. It was just that good.

It didn’t take long before she had me on the edge once again. “Holy fuck that feels good!” I whined as she took me into the back of her throat while expertly fondling my balls.

“Oh Jenny. I’m gonna come. Are you ready?” I panted. Her eyes met mine and she nodded as much as her current position would allow.

Immediately I felt my own next orgasm hit and my second load of the night was discharging into Jenny, though this time into the back of her throat as she kept nearly my full length in her mouth the whole time.

Her eyes watered, but she remained true to her word—not a drop escaped her lips. When my cock finished unloading and my climax ebbed away, she released me from her. She swallowed one more time and then opened her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue.

“Told you I wouldn’t waste any! And honestly I could guzzle that all night,” she said proudly as she cuddled up into my arms and pulled the sheets up over us. I leaned over to kiss her again as I recognized a feeling of calm contentment.

She quietly lay in my arms as we enjoyed the aftershocks of our pleasure and appreciated the feeling of our naked bodies intertwined.

After some time, she spoke up: “You know, I was trying to remember the last time I came that hard from someone’s penis…”

“And?…”

“I honestly can’t remember. Certainly not in the last ten years. And I’m not sure about before that. Definitely not with my husband. I honestly can’t recall.” She giggled as kissed me again. “I think I might go shower, care to join me?” she asked, starting to get up from the bed.

“Absolutely,” I grinned as I followed her.

In the shower, our hands were continuously groping, “washing,” and playing with each other. My cock stayed hard as she rubbed her body against me and teased me until our skin was so wrinkly that we had to get out.

As we dried off, I asked, “You ready to get to sleep, or think you’ve got one more orgasm in you?”

“Oh I’ve got AT LEAST one more orgasm in me. I can sleep on the plane,” she replied as she fell back into the bed.

“That’s what I was hoping. Can I use my tongue this time?”

“I’d be insane to say ‘no’ to that,” she answered with a wide smile as she lay on her back and spread her legs.

I teased her a little before diving in, taking little nibbles on the insides of her thighs and letting my tongue explore her whole pubic area. Although not obvious, there was a faint trace of my cum still present, but it didn’t bother me as I stuck my tongue in her slit and then licked up to her clit.

This quickly elicited a moan and her hands reached down to the top of my head, messing with my wet hair and pushing me into her crotch. I thought that with it being her third time around that this time might take a little bit longer, but the opposite happened. Much faster than I anticipated, her breathing quickened and she started panting. The moans followed quickly as she writhed underneath me. With each progressive orgasm she seemed to be getting more sensitive.

“Oh Andyyyyyyyy,” she groaned as she lifted her hips into my face and pushed on the back of my head. “YESSSSSSS,” she moaned as I felt her pussy begin to spasm for yet another time tonight. Like the last time, her legs clamped around my head, holding me in place as I continued pleasuring her until she had to shove me away due to the overwhelming intensity.

This orgasm burned bright, hot, and quick as she continued squirming, but sooner than before she was already regulating and returning her breath to normal.

She looked up at me with adoring eyes as she whispered, “I’ve only ever come three times in one night once before in my life. That was incredible.”

“I live to serve,” I replied, leaning down to kiss her again.

“Well why don’t you serve me another round of that dick,” she instructed with a smirk as she looked down to my engorged cock. She lifted her left leg into a glider position, spreading her soggy pussy lips for me again.

“Yes, ma’am,” I teased submissively as I straddled her right leg. I used my tip to toy with her clit and lips, wanting her to beg for it.

“Stuff it in me already!” she ordered aggressively.

“If that’s what you want…” I retorted, slamming my full lengthy into her in one fell swoop. If her vagina was wet earlier, she was absolutely drenched down and I felt very little resistance.

“Fuuuuuuck yes!” she groaned wantonly. “Tear my pussy up, Andy!” she demanded as she looked at me with fire in her eyes.

I grabbed onto her upright leg for leverage as I pounded my throbbing cock into her with all my might, arching my back as I brought my full attention to the symphony of pleasure centered on my penis. I closed my eyes as I used my other senses to take in all that was happening. I listened for clap of our bodies meeting while Jenny’s moans echoed in the background. I smelled the scent of our sex wafting in the room. I noticed the taste of Jenny’s pussy still on my tongue. And I felt the sensation of our bodies connecting in ecstasy.

I wished that I could live in that moment forever, but my body was responding to everything it was experiencing as I marched ever-closer to another orgasm.

Just as I was getting close, Jenny let loose a howl: “I’m coming AGAINNNNNNN!”

And as I felt her vagina clamp down on my dick, I was sent over the edge right along with her. I felt another river of cum erupt from my throbbing member up inside her pussy as she seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating, her breathing was so fast and shallow.

“Holy. Shit. Holy. Shit. Holy. Shit,” she kept repeating in time with the spasms I could feel around my cock as it continued to unleash.

Finally, we both started to calm down and I pulled out of her before gently lowering her leg. How it wasn’t cramping that whole time, I would never know.

“Holy shit,” she said again, this time in apparent disbelief. “I’ve never hit four in one night. Never!” She grabbed my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. “Four!” she exclaimed again as soon as she released me.

With that she pushed me down on my back and climbed on top of me where she began kissing me again. The fervor with which she continued to make out with me along with the sensation of her dripping pussy on top of me re-ignited that feeling in my cock, as it began to grow again.

“You are not getting hard again?!” Jenny said incredulously. “I mean this in the best way possible, but you’re a freak, Andy.”

“I know. I know. It has a mind of its own.”

“As much as I would like to ride it until the dawn, I think my pussy has hit its limit. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. There’s no expectation there and honestly I think I would start to lose skin if I attended to it every time it got hard. It’ll dissipate eventually.”

“Ok. Good to know. Speaking of winding down, we should probably actually get some sleep. Only a few hours until we have to be on the bus.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We should get at least a little rest.”

I turned off the lights and crawled back into the bed with Jenny as she nestled into my arms.

“Four! I still can’t believe it,” she whispered. “You’ve made me feel incredibly special tonight, Andy. Thank you.”

“I’ve had an amazing time, too, Jenny. Thank you,” I replied.

Before we knew it we had both drifted off to dream land.

My name is Laura. I’m 35 years old, and until a few months ago, my life was the perfect definition of “normal” Married to Diego for twelve years, mother of two beautiful children, a lovely house in the suburbs, and a stable job as a graphic designer. Sexually, we were… correct. Twice a week, always in bed, lights off, missionary position, a few kisses, and done. Sometimes I came, sometimes I didn’t. I never complained. I thought that was what marriage was. Diego is Handsome, tall, blonde hair and green eyes, he stills go to the Gym... in my case is another story, but my big tits and my fat ass, make me look still sexy.

But everything changed with one message.

It was a Wednesday night. Diego was on the couch watching a game, and I was checking my phone in bed. Children sleeping already, An unknown number texted me:

Unknown:
Hey… that white blouse you were wearing at the supermarket today would look much better on the floor of my house.

I froze. How did he know what blouse I was wearing? That day I had gone to the supermarket in a tight white blouse that clearly showed off my large breasts (I have natural 40G tits, heavy and impossible to hide). I blocked the number immediately.

But the next day, he wrote from another number:

Unknown:
Don’t block me, Laura. I just want to tell you the truth. You have a body that drives any man crazy. Those tits… that ass… they deserve to be fucked properly.

My hands trembled. How did he know my name? I blocked that number too.

Over the following weeks, the messages kept coming from different numbers. Some were soft, almost poetic. Others were direct and filthy. He told me how he imagined sucking my tits, how he wanted to put me on all fours and fuck me until I screamed. He described in detail what he would do to my mouth, my pussy, my ass. I read them in secret, heart racing, panties soaked. I never replied… until one night when I had a big fight with Diego.

My husband came home late, tired, and when I tried to get close, he said “I’m not in the mood” in an unnecessarily harsh way. He grabbed his pillow and a blanket and went to sleep on the sofa without even kissing me. I stayed alone in bed, my heart heavy. I was hormonal that day, sensitive, and his rejection hit me like a slap. I felt ugly, unwanted, invisible. I cried silently until I fell asleep. Maybe Diego deserves a prettier Wife, a better one to match with him.

At 1:47 a.m., my phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Unknown:
I know you’re crying in bed. I know your husband rejected you again. I would know exactly what to do with that body of yours.

For the first time, I replied:

Me:
Who are you? How do you know all this?

Unknown:
I’m someone who has been watching you for months. Someone who notices how you walk, how your tits move when you breathe, how you squeeze your thighs when you’re horny. Do you want to keep pretending you’re happy, or do you want me to tell you what you really deserve?

That night we chatted until four in the morning. I told him things I had never told anyone: that I felt invisible, that my husband had rejected me several times, that I fantasized about being taken roughly by a stranger. He listened, teased me, and gently dominated me through messages.

The following months were a slow, delicious torture.

Every time I argued with Diego or felt lonely, I wrote to him. He replied with the perfect mix of affection and dominance. He told me what underwear to wear, when to touch myself, how to do it. He ordered me to masturbate thinking of him and send him audios moaning his fake name: “Sir X” I obeyed. He drove me crazy.

Meanwhile, at home, Diego became more distant. He came home late, said he had a lot of work, that he was tired. He barely touched me. I felt more and more frustrated and wetter because of the stranger’s messages.

Finally, after almost four months, I agreed to meet him.

Unknown:
Hotel Imperial, Room 412. Friday at 9 pm. Go in, turn off the lights, put on the blindfold you’ll find on the bed, and wait for me on your knees. Don’t say a word. If you want to stop at any moment, say “red” Are you sure?

Me:
Yes… I’m sure.

I arrived at the hotel trembling. I put on the black blindfold that was on the bed, knelt in the center of the room, and waited. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest.

I heard the door open. Footsteps. The sound of clothes falling. Then silence.

Large, warm hands touched my shoulders. They slid down my arms. They lifted me slowly. I felt a strong body behind me. He smelled of expensive cologne and pure man. He slowly pulled my dress down, leaving my enormous breasts exposed. He grabbed them firmly from behind, lifted them, squeezed them. He kissed my neck, my weak spot, and it surprised me that he started there…

“I love your fat tits” he whispered in a deliberately distorted voice, which only turned me on more. I had no idea who was touching me.

He pinched my nipples hard while continuing to suck on my neck. I moaned softly. He pulled my panties down and shoved two fingers into my soaked pussy.

“You’re dripping, you slut… you’ve been getting wet for months for a stranger”

He started stroking my clit gently, making me beg for his cock. But he told me I had to earn it, so he made me kneel again and put his cock in my mouth. I didn’t need instructions.. I already knew what to do. It was big and thick, but I was used to that size; my husband also had a big cock. At one point he said “stop”… and pushed me onto the bed, put me on all fours, and penetrated me with one brutal thrust. I screamed. It felt so hard. He fucked me like an animal. The room became a symphony of sounds: his guttural noises, my uncontrolled screams begging for more, my moans, his balls slapping against my ass, the hard spanks that stung my skin, but that pain felt delicious. He pulled my hair and spoke in that fake voice, saying my pussy felt incredible, that he loved how I squeezed him, that he adored my big heavy tits and my fat ass.

I came twice before he flipped me onto my back. He spread my legs and fucked me while I still couldn’t see him. Not knowing who was fucking me gave me an adrenaline rush, but at the same time, his dominant way made me tremble... a real alpha male turning me into his whore, his and no one else’s. He choked me gently while thrusting deep. That sensation was exquisite. Everything was new, perverse, but so exciting!

“Tonight you’re going to give me something you’ve never given your husband” he growled.

I felt him pour cold lube on my ass and then the head of his cock pressing against my hole. I tried to stop him for a second, but he held me. For a moment I thought of Diego and realized I was going too far, but something inside me pushed me to continue.

“Relax… I’m going to fuck your ass for the first time. And you’re going to cum while I do it. You want this, just don’t be afraid”

He entered slowly, inch by inch. It hurt, but it was a pleasurable pain. When he was fully inside, he started moving. First slow, so my ass could adjust, then faster. He fucked my ass hard while circling my clit with his fingers. I lost count of how many times I came. But at the end, I had one so intense I felt like I was going to pass out. I soaked the hotel sheets.. a powerful squirt shot out of my pussy at the climax. I had never done that before, but I had never let myself go like that.

He came inside my ass with a deep growl, filling me with hot cum.

When he finished, he asked if I felt satisfied. I was in heaven and only whispered “yes…” Then he said, in his normal voice, and my heart skipped a beat:

“It’s time for you to know who I am.” He removed the blindfold that had completely blocked my vision.

It was Diego. My husband.

I stared at him in disbelief, tears in my eyes.

“I wanted to give you the fantasy you once told me about” he said softly. “I wanted you to feel what it’s like to be fucked by a stranger… but to have it be me giving you everything you deserve”

He kissed me with tenderness and passion at the same time.

That night we stayed at the hotel (my mom had the kids) and fucked like animals until dawn. He fucked my pussy, my mouth, and my ass again. He made me scream his name while filling me in every hole. The next day my whole body hurt and I could barely sit, but I was happy. Now, yes, our marriage was as perfect as it looked from the outside.

Since then, our sex life is completely different. Diego dominates me, degrades me, uses me… and I enjoy it like never before. Sometimes we still play the stranger game, I call him Mister X. Other times he fucks me as my loving and wild husband.

I had never been so happy.

And it all started with an anonymous message… from my own husband.