r/Erotica

Will
Sunday Morning

There was not enough lube in the world for what I was going to do to my poor dick. I had just finished blowing my load all over my room. I was so down bad, so totally lost, that I hadn’t even grabbed a tissue or anything. And now I had to clean it up. Another sticky mess, courtesy of Victoria.

It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. I swear.

I had only just started cleaning up when my phone chimed again. Victoria hadn’t stopped at sending me sexy nudes that showed off her sun-kissed caramel skin and her huge, perfect tits. Now she was sending me videos. One after another.

I immediately dropped what I was doing to hit play. This irresistible urge came over me at the sight of her body. I couldn’t help myself. My hand went straight to my cock, as if pulled there by a magnet.

In the video, Victoria was standing in that same bathroom or shower or whatever. She reached down and slowly started peeling off her shirt up and over her head.

My head was completely empty. The only thoughts that could find their way into my brain were the ones that told me to touch myself. To stare at Victoria and squeeze out every last drop of cum for her. A perfect offering to her, painting every surface in my room with my mess.

By the time her shirt hit the floor, I could do nothing but stroke, stroke, stroke for her. She reached down and began undoing the button on her pants. Then she pulled down the zipper. So painfully slow. She was teasing me. She shimmied her pants down.

Now that she was only in her underwear she cruelly decided to pause there, with her thumb dancing around her waistband.

“William,” she whispered, a smile dancing at the edge of her lips. I melted at the sound of her voice. I could listen to her saying my name for a thousand years. Especially when she said it like that, with her voice thrumming and sweet as honey in my ears. I felt myself slipping further into a trance. IQ points dumped out the back of my head in an instant. Nothing in my head but Victoria.

“Are you enjoying the show?” She asked, on the video. “I bet you’re touching yourself right now. Relaxing. Letting yourself go. Watching me strip. Praying I take off a little more?”

I nodded dumbly, still stroking my cock. The hypnotic triggers hit me with the force of a semi-truck.

“I bet your cock is making all the decisions, isn’t it?”

Yes, Victoria. Yes.

“You want to touch me, don’t you? You want to see a little more? A little peek of my pussy? Would that make you lose control?”

I moaned. The last two words reverberated off the inside of my skull.

LOSE.

CONTROL.

“What will you do if I let you see how wet I am? Do you know how much it turned me on to hear you come on the phone just now?”

“Please, Victoria,” I begged, though she couldn’t hear me. I had the wild thought to call her and beg her to come over right that second. Beg her to let me touch her, taste her, anything. Anything at all.

But I couldn’t tear my eyes off the video. And I couldn’t stop squeezing my cock. She was reaching her hand into her panties. She was touching herself in all the ways I wanted to touch her. All I wanted was to cup the soft mound of her pussy. To tease her wet, little slit with my fingers. To make her moan like she was moaning now.

Then Victoria was finally pulling down her underwear. She pulled her panties off and flung them behind her. With a wicked smile, she lifted her leg up to the bench to give me a better view.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” she asked. God, the vibration in that voice. I can’t describe it. It was like a warm embrace seeping into all the corners of my mind. Making every thought into one about Victoria. I wanted to say what she wanted me to say. I wanted to do what she wanted me to do. I wanted to be what she wanted me to be.

So I answered the only way I could. “Yes, thank you.”

She smiled as if she heard me. She knew what my answer would be. “I knew you would,” she said.

She slid her fingers into her pussy, biting her lip with the pleasure of it. She let out a soft little curse. Not for show, or for me at all. Just because she was nearing the edge too, just like I was.

“I need you to listen to me and obey, ok, Will?”

“Yes, always.” I said to my empty room.

“I want you to finish when I finish. But not a moment before.”

I nodded. “Whatever you say, Victoria.”

Dev texted me at like 11pm on a Wednesday. Not even a full sentence. Just "you up?" and then, before I could answer he followed it up with "is the door unlocked?"

It wasn't a question. I mean technically it had a question mark but we both knew what he meant by it. I thought it was actually kinda hot.

I left it unlocked.

He let himself in a few minutes later. Faster than I expected I was in the kitchen in a just a shirt and underwear eating cereal. He didn't say hi. He walked up behind me, took the spoon out of my hand, put it on the counter, and turned me around.

"Cole's parking," he said.

"Oh" That was my entire response.

I heard Cole come through the front door while Dev was kissing my neck from behind. I was getting kinda turned on my it but I stayed unresponsive because I knew that is what he wanted from me. Cole kicked his shoes off and walked into the kitchen and just leaned against the fridge watching for a minute. Dev had his hand up my shirt already and he was squeezing my tits and playing with my nipples. Cole grabbed a cup of water from behind him while looking at us the entire time.

"You good?" Cole asked.

"Obviously."

That used to be a longer conversation. Like months ago when this started, there was a whole negotiation. Dev asking if I was sure. Cole checking in every five minutes. Both of them being so careful and respectful and honestly? Boring about it. I was the one who told them to stop asking. I told Dev if I didn't want it I'd say so, and if my door is unlocked then I want it. I have a free use kink. I think that should be clear to you guys reading this by now.

Now it's this. Cole finished his cup of water and set it on the counter and walked over and pulled my shirt off over my head while Dev took my underwear down. No pause. No "is this okay." My body hit the kitchen counter and I pushed back against it and Dev lifted me up onto it and I wrapped my legs around him. I pretended to resist for a few moments but then I let them “overpower” me and I just gave in to it. I like that moment.

Cole stood behind me. His hand was in my hair jerking me around and his mouth was on my neck sucking hard. I knew I would have a hickey tomorrow.  I could feel him getting hard against my back. Dev was between my legs grinding against me through his shorts and I reached down and unzipped him.

"Impatient aren’t you" Dev said. Then he slapped me across the face.

"You're slow" I whimpered back to him.

He pulled me off the counter and turned me around and bent me over it. The counter was cold and not really all that comfortable. Somehow I kinda liked that. Made it feel more real.

Cole came around to my front. He tipped my chin up and I opened my mouth so he could shove his cock down my throat.

Dev fucked me hard from behind. Every thrust pushed me forward onto Cole’s cock.

"Harder" I said around Cole's cock and Dev grabbed my hips and pulled me back into him and even though it hurt I liked it still.

They switched spots.

I tasted myself on him. I must have been soaked because his cock literally tasted only like my pussy haha.

"Good girl," Cole said quietly. He only ever says it when he's close and it makes me clench every time and he knows it. I love getting filled up.

Dev came first. Held my head down on his cock and I swallowed and he was still holding me there when Cole started going faster and that's when I came myself. Dev hit me across the face again and the pain mixed perfectly with the orgasm I was having. Pure bliss imo. Cole finished right after me. I felt it.

After we had all cum the two of them basically just left without even saying anything to me. I actually liked that part of it. It left me with a bit of a weird feeling, but a good one. Kind of this sense of objectification that I enjoy. Like my feelings don’t matter. Like the only thing that mattered was them getting off. Idk. I know its weird, but I like it.

It’s a hot summer evening and Ivy was sweating. Her AC unit wasn’t working and she set herself up in front of a fan to cool off. She’d already stripped off most of her clothes at this point too. She was only left in her roommate’s t-shirt and a tiny thong. 

Her roommate, Jack, was fast asleep in his room. He too was suffering from the heat and had succumbed to the sleepy feeling one gets after 2 PM on a hot day. 

Bored and horny, Ivy has already masturbated earlier in the day using her trusty vibrator, but she wasn’t satisfied this time around—at least not in the way a good fuck leaves you. 

It had been a little over a year since Ivy had good sex. That time was when she had first met Jack, before they became roommates.

Flashes of their night together went through Ivy’s mind. Her pussy immediately clenching at the memories. Sex with Jack was good. More than good, really. It was revolutionary. For Ivy, he used her hard that night, and by the time she left his apartment the next day, she was limping and sore. He had thoroughly ravaged her. But that was a year ago, and they had agreed to only be a hookup, both having freshly been broken up with. 

The fact that they became roommates was a total coincidence, as since then, their relationship had been entirely platonic. Much to her chagrin.

As Ivy’s mind began to wander to their meeting, a specific conversation popped into her mind between them. During their fateful night, they’d talked about fantasies and how many of them went unfulfilled by their previous partners. 

“Free use? You want to be free used?” Ivy asked in disbelief. He didn’t seem the type to be into this. 

“Yeah, I want my girl to be able to use me as much as her. Besides, it sounds hot as hell to be woken up with my cock being used like her own personal dildo,” he leaned back and looked at her heatedly, “I’ll allow you if you ever want to take up on that offer, no limits.”

She never did try to use him that night. She wondered if the offer still stood. She decided that it would be better off not trying, she didn’t want to scare him and she was living in his apartment, Ivy didn’t want to end up homeless and charged with assault. 

But he did say no limits… 

She quickly stood up, her thong all but sopping wet now, and opened her bedroom door. She glanced out the hallway and noticed that his bedroom door was cracked open, and a fan was running inside. 

She slowly crept down the hallway, pushing open his door slightly to glance inside. 
“Jack?” She softly called into the room. No response. 
“Are you awake?” Still no response. 

She stepped into his room. Surprisingly clean for a bachelor, and smelled faintly of his cologne. Her eyes glanced at his sleeping figure on the body. Her nerves starting to get to her.This was a bad idea. She slowly started to retreat out of the room, only to hear Jack mumble her name. 

She froze. He moaned.

Did he just moan my name?

She turned around and looked at face, fully expecting his eyes to be open. They were closed, and he was still asleep. 

Before she could chicken out, she walked to the side of his bed and pulled his sheet back. He was fully nude. His cock semi-hard, rested on his stomach. She had forgotten about his size and how full she felt taking it. Her pussy clenched in response. 

She wanted to wrap her mouth around him. She climbed onto his bed at his side, and leaned down to take his semi into her mouth. She first licked the bottom side of his shaft from the bottom to the head, where she took the head into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the head, sucking a little before letting go. She glanced up at his face to see if he had woken, but he hadn’t moved a muscle. 

She took his cock, as it grew harder in her hands with every small pump she gave it, and rubbed her face against the side. She wanted to feel how hard it was against her face before taking it back into her mouth and giving it a proper blowjob. 

As her hands pumped the bottom, while her head bobbed. Jack groaned. She paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. His hips gave small thrusts into her mouth as she sucked and bobbed on his cock. Her other hand reached down to her panties as she pushed it aside to find her pussy wet and puffy from arousal. 

She took as much of his cock into her mouth as possible, trying to deep throat it before withdrawing and spitting on it. Her hand roughly pumped him a few more times, before she decided enough was enough. She needed it in her. 

She straddled his hips, as she pushed her wet thing aside. She grabbed his cock and rubbed the head back and forth before slowly inserting it into her pussy. 

She moaned at the feel of his cock splitting her open. Her hips bucking forward at the feeling. He let out a groan, Ivy paused her descent. She gave him (and herself, really) a few seconds before slowly lowering herself down another inch. She leaned forward and used his chest to brace herself for the last few inches, where she promptly slammed down. She let out a loud whine slip past before her hand was able to cover her mouth. Jack’s face scrunched up, his hands reaching down to feel what was going on, as his eyes slowly peeled open. 

“What the fuck? Ivy?” He mumbled out. His hands landing on her hips, as he grabbed her thing and pulled tight. 

“Oh, thank god. I was wondering when you’d use me like this.” His hands slapped the side of her ass as he grabbed her cheeks and encouraged her to start riding him 

“Ride me baby, use my cock like your personal toy.” Ivy didn’t need more prompting. She quickly rose off his cock, almost until it slid out, and slammed back down. Eliciting cussing from both parties. 

“Oh fuck, your pussy is so tight Ivy. It’s like a vice around me. Keep riding me, baby” Ivy nodded, at a loss for words, braced herself and began to ride his cock like a fiend, chasing her pleasure.

His hands helped guide her up and down his cock. He watched her as she got closer to finishing, her expression reaching bliss. 

Ivy realized as she rode him, she hadn’t heard a condom. And she wasn’t on anything either.

“Wait, Jack we have to stop, you don’t have a condom on,” she breathlessly stopped riding him and started to pull away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ she was cut off when Jack grabbed her hips and slammed her back down on to him.

“Sweetheart, I don’t give a flying fuck. I haven’t fucked anyone else in a year since you. You’re going to keep riding me, so that you can use me and so I can lay my claim by giving you my babies. Keep going.” His hands guided her hips back and forth as he spoke. 

“Are you sure?” She trailed off, stilling her movement.

“Positive,” he smiled up at her, “now keep using me sweetheart, cause there’s tons more I want to do to you.” 

She giggled a little before she grinded her hips, and began to bounce once more. His gaze followed to their connection point, and his eyes glanced up at her face full of bliss. 

“Oh, Jack, I’m going to come soon.” Her movements starting to get sloppy and faster, as she attempted to chase the peak. 

“Come for me baby, let me know how much you love riding this free use cock.” He groaned out, his own hips rising to meet hers, chasing his own high.

Her fingers reached down and gave her clit a few rubs before she came crashing down, her pussy clamped down, and her hips grinding down onto him. He grabbed her hips, holding her in place as his own hips buck into hers in sharp, deep thrusts, before one final slam deep into her pussy as he came. 

Ivy fell forward onto Jack’s chest as their breathing and heart rates calmed down. Still connected, Ivy shuffled around to get comfortable, only for Jack to moan out a little.

“We'll definitely have to do this again.” She mumbled in response. 

He chuckled and nodded his head, “Definitely. Except, next time it’ll be you.”

Melissa turns the corner into her street, and pulls into the driveway. All the lights are off, the curtains are open, and the house is no doubt as cold and quiet as a cemetery at 2am. She glances at the dash before she turns the car off. It's 9:23 pm. "Fucking prick" she mutters to herself as she gets out.

She unlocks the front door, turns the lights on, and then brings the boys in from the car. She picks Dan up out the back seat, and nudges Jake. Sleepy, he climbs out of the car and follows her inside. She gets them settled in bed. She turns the heating on and closes the curtains before grabbing herself a glass of wine and sitting down at the dinner table. She calls him, and it rings for a long time before he picks up.

"Hi sexybum!" Bob shouts into the phone, and she yanks the phone away from her ear. Wherever he is, it's loud, and Bob has clearly been drinking. Trying to keep the anger out of her voice, she asks him where he is. "Just out with the lads from work, I told you we were getting a drink for Sonny's leaving do". He sounds blissfully unaware because, she realises, he is. This is Bob. The man she married, the man she loved... the man who now never thinks about anyone except himself. "You were meant to bring the boys home from mum's this afternoon *before* going out. Remember?". Silence from the other end of the phone. Well, silence from Bob. Plenty of other noise - music, laughter, loud talking, and... *that slut's unmistakable voice* asking "Did Sonny go home already?" in that airhead voice. Mel grinds her teeth.

Bob seems distracted as he yells "Babe, I can't hear you, but I'm out with the boys. I'll probably crash at Joe's house tonight because I've had too many to drive". The line goes dead before she can even respond. Her eyes blur, but real tears don't form. She's beyond crying, she realises. Anger rises, though. That's still there. She throws her phone across the dining room, into the lounge, and it hits the couch in the other room. She gulps her entire glass of wine down. She walks back into the kitchen and refills her glass. Empties it again. The last of the wine splashes into the glass, and she blankly walks into the lounge and sits down on the couch. "You... you... YOU FUCKING PRICK!" She shouts at the empty room. It feels good to let it out. "AAAAARGH! FUCK YOU!" Sheepishly, she realises that the kids are asleep and that there's no point in screaming at a man who isn't even there.

She drinks the rest of the wine without even tasting it, and walks back to the kitchen with the intent to get another glass. The glass slips as she puts it down, topples, and smashes on the counter. "Well, shit." She says to herself. Just another thing to clean up. She starts picking up shards of glass, looks around, sighs, and decides instead that this particular mess can wait.

20 minutes later, she's back on the couch, with a blanket, a book, and music softly playing. She's changed out of her work clothes and is wearing an oversized jumper over her loose night shirt. She's not ready to sleep, but also doesn't feel like doing anything else. She doesn't get much opportunity to read with everything else she's expected to do around the place, so she's curled her feet up under herself, and is starting to get engrossed in her book.

A few minutes later, she's interrupted by a voice and the front door opening. "He came home? That was quick" She thinks to herself as she gets up and walks around the corner, book in hand. She's surprised to see Matt, halfway in the door, looking worried. "Hey... what are you doing here?" Mel asks, confused. He straightens up, looking around, clearly just as confused as she is, although she can't work out why. He shakes his head a little as though he's still trying to work it out himself. "You rung me... but you didn't say anything. I thought maybe you butt-dialed me, but then I heard yelling, and... I was worried." He says, taking a step into the house and closing the door behind him. He seems unsure of what to do now. "I called out to you, and I listened for a few minutes, but I didn't hear any more. I would have come sooner but I didn't want to intrude, and I know..." he trails off. "What? What do you know?" Mel asks, a little angry that Matt thinks he knows *anything* about what's going on.

He hesitates. "I know... I know how Bob can be sometimes, and I didn't want to make things worse by coming over unannounced". She sighs, and nods. Bob would absolutely have reacted badly. Maybe not while Matt was around, but certainly after. He pauses, more confident now that he's said the hardest part out loud. "I called back but it went straight to answerphone, so I decided I was just going to drive past to make sure everything was ok." He looks past her. "Did he leave? I don't see his car." He breathes deep, and she stays quiet, not sure what to say. He tries to lighten the mood with a joke and a shrug. "So.... well, you're obviously fine, and I'm just interrupting a good book, which is a crime at my place!" Not his best work, but she appreciates the effort. Quieter, more seriously, he says "Look, I don't want to make things worse by being here when he gets back. But call me if you need anything, even if it's just to talk." He turns and walks back to the door.

This time it's Mel who hesitates. "Don't go" she says quietly. Matt turns back and looks at her. "Bob's out. He's not..." 'coming home tonight' is what she was going to say, but she stops herself. "He's not here." Matt's been a friend for a long time, and he knows things are... not great. She's never known him to be judgemental about, well, anything, and she knows he and Emily had their own issues before she left him a few years before. But she's not going to just blurt out where she thinks Bob is, or who he might be with. She looks around the house, the empty bottle of wine on the table, and the broken glass on the kitchen bench, and sighs. "I do need someone to talk to"

She walks back into the lounge to get her phone. Yep. Dead flat. At least it's not smashed. She plugs it in and sits down on the couch as Matt walks in and sits down on the other end of the couch. They look at each other, years of friendship and shared history opening the way for conversation, but the situation making them hesitate. Usually, this house is warm and welcoming. Loud, even, since normally when Matt is here, there's a dozen other friends, music, drinks, and laughter.

Mel looks up at the ceiling, and sighs. "Bob was meant to pick up the kids from mum's this afternoon." She picks up the blanket from the floor, tucks her legs under herself on the soft leather seat, and lies it over her legs to stay warm. "I had plans to have a drink with Lisa, but I had to cancel on her, again, at the last minute." She sighs. "I don't think she's going to ask me again. Thats the third time this year I've had to cancel plans, and when I rung her, she didn't sound surprised, or even annoyed. Just resigned."

Her phone buzzes, but she ignores it. Matt sits there quietly as Mel continues, explaining that Bob, instead of picking up the kids, went out for drinks with workmates. She's trying not think think about which workmates, because she knows she'll just end up angrier. Matt listens, and she appreciates that he's not trying to make jokes or problem solve. She just needs to get things off her chest and he seems to realise that. He's listening, occasionally nodding, and filling in the quiet spaces with nothing-talk when she runs out of words. She can hear encouragement and sympathy in his voice and see it in his body language, but thankfully, not pity. She does *not* want pity. She knows he's been through his own shit, and that helps. She doesn't go too deep, and the topics slowly turn to more light hearted things. She knows what he's doing, guiding conversation subtly away from painful things without cutting her off or being dismissive. She's happy to talk about more general things. She realises that just having some company, someone to talk to, is what she needs tonight.

"Your boys!" She yells. She suddenly realises he's here, which means his boys are home alone. "Jessica is looking after them" he says with a smile. "She had no plans, and Friday nights her babysitting rate is higher, so she was only too happy to sit on my couch on her phone and get paid to do nothing but listen to quiet snoring from the boys and raid my fridge for snacks!". He laughs, and Mel realises she's staring with a blank expression - she has no idea who Jessica is. Matt reads her mind. "The neighbour's daughter. She looks after the boys sometimes when I can't be home. She's a good kid." Mel shakes her head and says "You better give me her number. Good babysitters are worth their weight in gold, and I'm totally gonna steal her from yoAAAAAAH!" She kicks her right leg out violently as a cramp hits the arch of her foot. The blanket hits Matt in the face and the top of her foot kicks his thigh.

He instinctively grabs her foot and his fingers quickly realise what's wrong. He feels the curl of her big toe and presses it up and back, stretching the tendon. His other hand grabs her heel and that thumb rubs warmth into her arch. He holds her leg up slightly, at his chest height, and his hands rapidly put pressure in the right spots - pushing the rest of her toes up, holding the arch of her foot, rubbing the sides... all while the blanket is still just draped over his face. Mel can't help herself, and starts laughing at the sight. She's lying flat on her back, head angled up uncomfortably on the couch armrest, left foot thrown up onto the back of the couch, right leg stretched straight forward held by two strong hands, bent and pushed by... a blanket with arms.

A muffled laugh escapes from under the blanket, and Matt tosses his head until the blanket falls behind him and off the couch. He's still holding her foot up, gentle but firm pressure applied to arch, toes, and heel as the cramp fades. She's still lying back, laughing uncontrollably, the long sleeves of her jumper flapping as she waves her hands in his direction. She opens her eyes and he meets her gaze, a wide smile on his face. It feels good, being able to laugh. He's still holding her foot, pressure on, in case the cramp comes back. He glances at her foot and back to her face.

No... not at her foot. She can see the angle of his gaze, and she thinks he was looking past her foot... She realises her legs are still half splayed, and her night shirt and long jumper have ridden up to past her waist. She's wearing a pair of short, loose, silk boxers, and she's pretty sure that's where his eyes had strayed. Ok, she thinks... he's a man, he can look. He's seen a lot more of her before, on his massage table, and she can't help but think back to the last massage he gave her a few months ago...

Her laughter fades and he can see she's distracted by something. "Everything ok?" He asks and reaches back to pick up the blanket. She takes back her foot and rubs the instep. The cramp is completely gone, and Matt hands her the blanket. "Thank you, that feels much better" she says as she settles the blanket on herself again. He waves his hand in a dismissive way and says "It's nothing". He shrugs. "Not just for that," she says. "For coming over. For listening. For caring." He looks away for a second, and then looks her in the eye. "It's what anyone would do. It's what friends are for". He genuinely seems to mean it. With a small start, she comes to a realisation. She'd said essentially the same thing to Bob just last week, when she went to drop some groceries off for a friend who'd been struggling. His reaction now contrasted by what Matt said: "Your friends are only there when *they* need *you*" he'd said.

Not entirely sure what to do with that train if thought, she pushed it away. "Do you want a drink?" She asks, bouncing to her feet. "I think I need a rum" she walks past him into the kitchen, trailing her hand on his shoulder as she walks past. He gets up and follows her. "Just the one, I still have to drive. Got any bourbon?" She sees him glace at the clock. "Yes I do, and don't worry, Bob said he'd be late". She pours them both a drink, hers a rum and coke, and she remembers he likes his bourbon with sprite, of all things. "Why not just have it with coke?" She asks. "Coke overpowers the flavour of anything you mix it with. Thats fine for rum, but I actually *like* the taste of bourbon, much to my Single-Malt-Scotch-purist father" he says with a smile. They toast, and move back to the lounge. She adjusts the heating up by a few degrees on the way past.

They plop themselves comfortably back on the couch, and even though she's a little bit cold, she deliberately leaves the blanket off and settles sideways on the couch, her left leg hugged against her chest and her right laying across the middle seat towards Matt. He's sitting facing her with his left leg dangling off the couch and his right foot tucked under his left knee. They take a sip of their drinks and she sees him close his eyes as he drinks. He seems to really like it. "Can I try it?" She asks. He offers his glass, and she takes a sip. "I can see why you like it. Maybe I'll just keep it" she says with a playful smirk. He grins at her and she sees his eyes wander down again. He's clearly trying not to stare, but the glance was unmistakable this time. She smiles and leans forward to give him back his glass. "Mmmm. Very smooth. Do you like everything smooth?" She teases him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hmmmm..." he says, pretending to give it serious thought. "I *do* like smooth, but some of the best drinks I've ever had were a little... rough around the edges, you know?" He smiles and winks over his glass as he takes another sip.

She taps her glass with a fingernails as she also pretends to consider this reply as though it's some deep truth, rather than barely disguised innuendo. "I should try more drinks". She declares. "For science, you know?" She deliberately slides her gaze from looking him in the eyes, down at the loose fitting track pants he's wearing. "There's a lot of flavours" he says, his eyes trying desperately to stay on her face as she shifts around on the couch. She stretches and glances at the heat pump which is now warming up the room considerably.

"I'm hot" she says, and she puts down her drink. Mel stands up and pulls the jumper over her head as her phone buzzes again. She makes no effort to hold her shirt down, and it comes almost all the way off, exposing her right breast before she lazily pulls it back down. Matt puts both feet on the floor and says "Hot? You sure are" as he leans slightly forward, holding his drink in both hands and looking her up and down. "What a drink" he says appreciatively.

She takes the glass out of his hands, downs the bourbon for a little bit more courage, and leans over in front of him to put the empty glass on the floor. She glances up at Matt and she knows her loose, low-cut night shirt is now angled in such a way that he can at least one, probably both of her breasts down her top. He is looking *exactly* where she wants him to, and she puts her hands on his shoulders and gives a little shove. He obligingly lays back and she climbs onto the couch, one leg on either side of him, straddling his lap.

"I, ummm" he begins, but she puts a finger on his lips and tells him to shush. "Just sit there and drink this all in" she leans forward and kisses him, her hands moving across his shoulders and around his neck. For the second time, she thinks about how this *should* feel like crossing a line, but it doesn't. Matt's hands gently reach up and touch her legs, her hips, and then slide easily under the baggy shirt. His fingers on her skin make her shiver, and it's not from the cold. She kisses him again, first a lingering one on the mouth, then across his cheek and onto his neck, while she slowly begins to grind her hips into his.

The reaction is immediate and unmistakable. Matt's preference for loose track pants - something she has always found incredibly sexy, being able to see the swing and outline of his cock whenever it moved - means that she can feel him getting harder through the fabric. Her silk shorts may as well not exist, though she's always loved how the coldness of the silk feels against her skin. Now, as she slowly moves up and down on his lap, her hips rolling backwards and forwards, his cock is already rubbing around - and with some careful steering, in between - her lips. She keeps kissing his neck as his warm, muscular hands dance across her back, under her arms, and over her breasts.

She leans back slightly and tosses her head back while her hips continue their slow, gentle, but steadily more intense ride on his lap. He moves his hands down, and again she feels his fingers caressing her hips. The fingers curl and slide under the loose shorts and around her butt, each hand adding gentle pressure, encouraging a closer grind. She's positioned herself so that the tip of his penis is rubbing directly on her clit, and a moan escapes her lips. She wants his pants off, like, *right now*, but she also doesn't want to move. His thumbs caress her hip bones as his fingers lightly grip her bum, guiding her hips up and down in a rhythm they clearly both like.

She decides that enough is enough, and with one more deep kiss planted on his lips, she stands up and tugs at his pants. He's happy to slide them off for her. She leans forward, looking down at his thick cock, and then looks him in the eyes. This man brought her to orgasm three times the last time he laid hands on her, has come over to check on her, and is even paying a babysitter just to be here for her. He has never asked for anything, and gives freely. She makes a decision.

She leans forward and kisses him deeply, her hand pulling his head in closer as she reaches down with her other hand to lightly run her fingers down the side of his cock, and she gently curls her hand under his balls. He shudders and she gives them a little squeeze. Then she kneels down in between his legs, flicks her hair over her shoulder, and looks up at him as she grabs his now throbbing cock in her right hand. Maintaining eye contact, she slowly, very slowly sticks out her tongue and licks his shaft. Another shudder. Gently kneading his balls with her left hand, and stroking the base of his thick cock with her right, she looks down, opens her mouth, and glides his head between her lips and onto her tongue. He breathes a ragged sigh and clutches the leather couch with his hands. She can feel tremors and shudders moving through his body.

Rolling her tongue around the head, and using her lips to tease around the top half of his swollen cock, she starts to move her head down and up, gently pumping the opposite way with her hand. She sucks gently and pulls her head back slowly. Her mouth literally makes a soft 'pop' sound as she moves back far enough for him to come out. "Hnnngggg" he says, arms twitching at his sides, and she laughs. One of the few times she's ever heard him actually speechless, and she decides she is loving this. She thinks back to that day a few months ago when his hands and mouth brought her to some of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever had, and suddenly understands why some people give, with no expectation of getting anything in return. Making someone else feel good *is* the point. That is the reward.

That thought in mind, as she takes him into her mouth again and he makes a quiet but high pitched noise in his throat, she decides it's payback time. She slowly slides her mouth down his cock, her tongue caressing him, and abruptly stops, exactly half way down his cock. She could take him deeper... she can feel him straining to hold himself back, and yes, she could take him deeper... but she's not going to. She moves back up, edging around the head and rim of his now deeply pulsing and rock-hard cock, and looks up at him. He feels her looking, and looks down. She smiles again and goes back down to halfway, and up, and down again, maintaining eye contact the whole time. His eyes practically begging her to go deeper, after a few more moments she sees the light of understanding in his eyes. He suddenly laughs, an almost explosive sounds and she realises he's been holding his breath for close to a minute, and he shakes his head. "You... you are so mean. Evil!" He says, a little breathlessly. "But I guess I deserved that", and he closes his eyes and puts his head back on the couch. "Payback's a bitch" she says with a grin, and then she puts her mouth back on him. Slowly, controlled, she slides her mouth as far down his cock as she can take it. She cups his balls again with her left hand, and with her right, she reaches down between her legs. She's incredibly wet and horny, and she'd like nothing more than to climb on and ride him, but she wants to see this through. With a tempo slowly increasing, she works on his cock and balls until, about a minute later, she feels him tense up and his short, sharp breathing stops altogether. He taps her arm but she knows, and she doesn't want to move. With a force that surprises her, his cock starts pumping and he groans, loud and long. She has to pull back slightly, and she swallows as much of his cum as she can before it spurts out over her lips and onto his legs. "Hnnnnnnnn... h... holy fuck" he manages to say as his muscles all relax and his cock stops twitching. She smiles as she wipes the cum off her chin, strangely proud. It had been many years since she'd taken anyone in her mouth, and even back then, it was never pleasant. While this was by no means what *she* would have ever thought she wanted, watching him twitch, having that control, and being able to get that kind of response was satisfying in a way she'd never really considered was possible. Her phone buzzes again and for a second, spoils her happy thoughts.

He lifts his head, looks down at himself and then at her and says "That was completely unnecessary, but thank you. Jesus christ. Holy shit." She laughs and says "Go get cleaned up, you filthy animal. You got cum all over my couch". He laughs, and grabs his pants as he stands up, heading for the hallway. She sees him turn right toward the bathroom, and calls out "Use the ensuite!". He turns left instead and he walks into her bedroom. The main bathroom is right between the boys' bedrooms and she didn't want to have to explain *that* to any late-night-I-had-to-pee boy wandering around.

She grabs herself a couple of paper towels from the kitchen, wets them in the sink and cleans herself up some more. She looks down and sees that she managed to save her clothes, and the couch is also relatively clear of... collateral damage. She sees her phone and decides to check it. Two notifications from the bank, and a text from Bob. She checks the bank notifications.

The first notification is an Uber charge. Fine, at least he's not driving drunk. But the second notification is a motel. A cheap motel. Bob seems to have forgotten that she can see when he spends money on his credit card. She knows what this means, clearly. With a resigned feeling, she opens the message. "Gong fishing with Steve 2moro. Be home Sunday". That's it. She's supposed to believe that somehow, he's managed to line up a fishing trip with a friend, at this time of night, for the following day? Even if she hadn't seen the motel charge she would have struggled to bring herself to believe that.

She drops her phone. She thinks for a second and it dawns on her that she's not even angry anymore. She realises that she's known for months, and that tonight was the last of her anger. She lied to herself because it was easier, less painful. Now, the pain is gone.

She walks to the front door, locks it, turns off all the lights, and walks into the bedroom. Bob can have his cheap motel. Tonight is hers.

I'd gone with my friend Jodie to collect this self-powered exercise bike she'd seen an ad for. It was pretty far away from her home and she needed an extra set of arms. Her husband and my wife were both teachers who worked together, so neither one was available to help. But I loved Jodie, she and her husband were like family to us, and if she ever needed help, I was there.

It was a terraced house, reasonably big, but impossible to find parking - we'd have to lug the thing all the way down the road together. The door was this surprising pink colour, and the bell played a cheesy electric sample of Big Ben.

"Shall we pretend we're married?" she laughed. "Like, to be silly."

I scoffed, and rolled my eyes. "Fine, yeah." Whatever. Jodie's sense of humour was unbearably romcom-ish, but sometimes that could be a lot of fun. My friend had dressed the part in a green lycra getup for testing out this bike. She looked cute with her brown hair cut pixie-short. That was new. I wondered if maybe she wanted to test drive her new look by acting out a character. I'd worn my sweats, mainly anticipating a lot of carrying.

The door answered, a woman of about her height in a white blouse and tweed skirt with gigantic curls of black hair hanging past her shoulders and all around. "You're Jodie? Christine, hi. You're here for the bike, hi! Come in!"

"This is my husband, Liam" Jodie pushed me forward to shake her hand. She wore a lot of rings.

"Bike's this way."

"Hello!" A man's voice called from somewhere to the back of the ground floor, but we were already hurrying upstairs.

"Okay, this is it..." The bike itself was clearly untouched. One more bit of exercise equipment circulating around households who didn't want to commit to a gym and believed that more stuff would do the job.

"You want to try it?" The man's voice, coming up behind us. He looked about 15 years older than the rest of us - white hair, a handsome but neatly lined face, dress shirt tucked into jeans that were too short. Judging by the decor and the way they recycled gadgets and gear, I guessed they had easy disposable income. He looked like he had money, at least. "Ted."

"Hi, yeah, if that's alright?" Jodie clambered aboard and with a few turns, the contraption bleeped and came to life. She set the incline until I could see the resistance in her face, and I have to admit the rhythm of her movement was arousing to me.

"God, she's a sight, isn't she?" Ted murmured next to me. I smiled as politely as I could, but Jodie heard the remark and flashed us both a grin. "Liam's always checking me out." She arched her back a little more and accentuated the movement of her hips.

"Yeah, I suppose I am," I said, remembering to play along.

"Don't blame you," Ted said, still sotto voce, pointless since Jodie and Christine could clearly hear everything. "Magnificent body."

Jodie didn't turn that time, but I saw her smile, this time more inwardly, and keep pedalling. I knew it was time to get out of there.

"Shall we get this down to the car, then?"

"Yeah," Jodie remembered herself, and hopped off the bike. "How much did we say?"

"Aaaactually, do you know what..." Christine mused. "While you're here, do you want to take a look at some clothes I'm getting rid of? You can just take them with you if you see anything you like, I'll donate it otherwise." She rolled open a wardrobe that covered one wall - lots more blouses, skirts, big dangly trousers, sundresses. "It's everything over in this section..."

I waited while Jodie flipped through. I was as close with her as I was her husband, Tom - I knew very well he would hate to see the way Ted's stare followed her ass. He'd want me to do something and I wasn't doing much.

"Oh my god - yeah, this one, and... oh that's lovely..."

"Try them on." Ted almost made it sound like an order. "We'll clear out, come on."

The three of us went out to the hallway while Jodie undressed in private, sorting through Christine's wardrobe and trying on one thing after another. I was invited back down to the kitchen, where Christine put on the kettle. We should have been on our way out by now, and instead, we were hanging around for tea.

"I'll just be a moment..." Ted stepped briskly out of the room, and I heard him on the stairs.

"How long have you been married?" Shit. Jodie and I hadn't bothered to get a story straight. I suppose we could've just come clean, but I didn't want to make the situation any weirder. Which is why I probably shouldn't have started lying even harder.

"That's the funny thing actually - we had two weddings, an official one and an unofficial one, a couple of years apart, so depending on how you count it, it's 7, or..." higher or lower? Which number was she more likely to say? "5."

"We've been together for 15 years. You can tell there's a bit of an age gap, right?" I nodded. As if that was subtle. "Still, Ted's very good. He's always been very good."

"Babe? Liam? Can you tell me what you think of this dress?" I didn't have time to find out what "very good" meant, as Jodie called urgently from above. I darted into the hall and nearly ran into Ted coming the other way. "Sorry, sorry" and he bustled into the kitchen.

Jodie was standing in a dusk-blue gown dress whose straps wrapped round her neck and barely kept her breasts in place. I got a little worked up at seeing my friend like this, replaced immediately by guilt on remembering Tom, and my wife, Susan. The look on Jodie's face was, at best, complex.

"Oh, wow. You look stunning."

"Yeah thanks, great, but..." she flapped a hand beckoning me closer. "That guy Ted just fucking grabbed me."

"What?"

"Yeah, he like... came in and put a hand on my ass. So fucking casual, he was chatting away the whole time."

"Shit. Jodie, I..." I wanted to say I was sorry. But her eyes were wild.

"I think he was filming me, too." A little twitch at the corners of her mouth. "You know, while I was changing. I think he was filming through the door."

I tried my best to read her face. I wasn't yet ready to admit that my friend's wife was thrilled at having been groped like this. She looked magnificent in that dress, too. Up close, I could see her bare skin and the way the silk flowed over her. Behind her stood the exercise bike, still not dismantled, so many more clothes tossed over it. She was an image of elegance and mania. Everything out of order.

"Okay, so..." I collected my thoughts, and tried to ignore the stirring of my own cock in my sweats. "We need to pump the brakes here, right? Get changed, I'll stall them, we'll get this bike and get the fuck out of here."

Jodie nodded, reality checked. "Yeah, sure. Yes. That's right... do you think she knows?"

Before I could answer, Christine yelled from downstairs. "Come down, show us! What dress did you pick?"

Jodie had already heeded the request, dashing out in a blur of blue silk.

"Oh, YES." Christine was thrilled. "I hoped you'd try that one. Oh, god, it looks so nice with the short hair, too. Give us a whirl?" Jodie obliged, and even I couldn't help but drink in the sight of her body twisting in that dress. I heard Ted make the creepiest fucking noise, too, and in my revulsion I realised I was half hard and barely better than him. No, I was better. I came to my senses - I wasn't groping anyone.

"Your husband certainly likes it," Jodie said, sheepishly.

"So does yours." I tried to adjust my stance, hoping to hide my arousal. It wasn't the outfit for it. The thought occurred to me that I wasn't being instinctively protective as a husband would be - I was being nervous and non-judgemental, as a friend. I tried to imagine how I'd behave, were Susan in this situation, and then felt another punch of guilt to my stomach. I stretched an arm round Jodie and pulled her against me in what I hoped passed for casual affection, and her ass pressed up against my cock, which strained to meet it. Now Jodie knew. She flashed me a quick glance, and pressed back against it.

Ted and Christine were embraced too, looking Jodie up and down without reserve. Christine was swaying, biting her lip, her eyes shifting to flirt with me. Her blouse was undone, almost all the way to where it tucked in to her skirt. Had it always been so? There was so much more skin on show now. And Ted, I could see that he was harder than me, and in no way shy about it.

"Don't tell Tom," whispered Jodie, her ass shifting left and right over my hardening prick.

"Who's Tom?"

"Her, uh, brother."

"What an odd thing to say."

"Well, yeah." Quick change of subject. I think by this point I was craving Jodie and ever more curious about Christine. But the idea of this compound betrayal felt too big to deal with. I felt sick. I couldn't let this continue. "So, uh, let's get you changed back, and then we'll finish our transaction--"

"Wait wait wait! I know!" Christine waved a hand, her blouse flying open and exposing her right breast for a second. "Wait there, wait there..." she dashed back out of the room, thudding up the stairs. Ted followed for a brief moment, just enough to catch up with the two of us, sidling up next to Jodie and staring down at her.

"Gorgeous wife you have here. I expect you have to watch her around lecherous old men, hmm?"

"What, like you?" she swayed against my cock again. I dared not look down, but I think he had a hand stroking her belly.

"Like me, yes." The two of them shared a laugh. She might have been his already, then. She seemed altogether too pliant, and the way she was now grinding against me made it unambiguous that we would descend together. How was I blameless? I was wrestling with the cravings as much as I could. The shame of dashing my marriage for a secondhand purchase, it felt cheap and ugly. So far beneath me. And I was grinding back, pressing my erection into the split of her ass and drunk on the feeling of her pressing back, soft cheeks mashed against my sweats.

"How did you two meet, anyway?"

"Juggling lessons." She lied so softly, all of a sudden.

"Really?"

"Yeah," I panted, as the senior creep's hands searched my fake wife's borrowed dress. "Our, uh, eyes met during a partners exercise. Juggling... sticks."

"Bowling pins, babe." Her hand was definitely gliding up his back, now.

"Yeah, silly me. Bowling pins."

"Okay, come and check it out! Guys!" Christine's call broke the tension. I could feel myself, wet with precum. I knew I was going to do it - whatever it was - then. It was then that I started seeking it. Lying to myself. I imagined she was my wife. My wife whom I'd met while juggling bowling pins, fine. And we weren't cheating. We were just a spontaneous couple in love, letting something weird happen.

"Don't tell Susan" I hissed, as Ted led us to the stairs.

"His sister," Jodie explained.

We filed back into the bedroom, and there, next to the exercise bike, Christine stood proudly, grinning her handsome face off in Jodie's workout clothes.

"See? Get it? Your wife dressed like me, so--"

"Yeah, I see. Very good." I smiled, staring at her in those skintight clothes. Fuck, I wanted her now, and what's worse, I knew I could take her.

"Okay, okay, so now, you come be my husband, and... oh, yeah..."

She reached down and slid her wedding ring off her left hand, holding it out towards Jodie. "I think you dropped this?"

"Oh, silly me!" Jodie took it gratefully, sliding hers off in turn. "And yeah, I was gonna say, you left this on the dresser..."

As each placed the other's ring on her hand, Ted proffered me his with far less subtlety.

"Here you go."

My conscience yowled like an injured cat as I handed my ring over to the old fuck, putting his on my hand. I couldn't believe everything fit. A little loose, perhaps. I stepped over to Christine and slid a hand round her waist, holding her against me and feeling that excited sway, her hip brushing my cock as we took in the sight of Jodie and Ted, mirroring us, Jodie resplendently overdressed.

He had my ring on. Why had I let him take my fucking ring?

"So, darling," Ted purred, Jodie nuzzling into him, "you never tried this bike out in your new dress."

"Yeah..." she mused. "Should I see if it's dress-worthy?"

"I shouldn't think you'd want an exercise bike that you couldn't ride in a silk gown, my love."

I couldn't help it. My hands slid up and down Christine's lycra covered belly, finding my way up to feel her breasts through the fabric, delighting at the gasps she made, through my shame. We watched together as Jodie mounted the bike once more, this time in her elaborate dress, and pedalled. Christine's hand found my hard cock through my sweats, and squeezed, rubbing slowly, and I groped her in turn with the same casual aggression he had taken with Jodie.

Ted's hands were sliding up and down the silk covering Jodie's torso. She threw her head back and breathed deep, audibly, beginning to sweat as the exertion and his touch pushed her arousal higher. Her squeezed and stroked her breasts and her ass, which lifted off the seat, and she squirmed, grunting, even as she pushed the pedals. He pulled at the fabric, dragging the dress up off her legs and up to her waist, baring her ass and her deliciously round hips. He pulled her thong sideways, and slid his ring finger, wearing the ring I had exchanged with my wife, deep in her cunt.

"Fuck yes..." she grunted, and paused, frozen with her ass up as he fucked his finger into her.

"Keep riding. Come on." She took the command as well as she could, moaning horribly as her legs pumped the pedals again, her hips now rising and falling on his finger, his other hand keeping the dress bunched up at her waist. She couldn't seem to work the machine very quickly or stably in this state - shuddering, slow turns as it clunked and rumbled and each heaving deep breath released a guttural moan.

My arousal spilled over and I grabbed Christine by her hair and our tongues wetly slid together, lapping at each other in greedy, sloppy, over-excited kisses. Her hand grasped under my waistband and found my cock, pumping it in a tight fist and groaning with excitement into my mouth. I moaned in return, reaching hopelessly for her pussy and confounded by our height difference. I pulled at her waistband and she helped me wriggle her overly tight shorts to the floor. Out of nowhere, compulsion guiding me, I gave her ass a hard slap, and pulled back to see her face gleeful and joyous. With the sound of Jodie's moans growing ever more erratic atop the bike, she pulled me over to the bed and crawled up on all fours, wriggling, taunting me to repeat myself.

I gave her another. A hard smack across both cheeks. Susan would never let me spank her; Christine only pleaded for more. Again. Another. Stinging my fingers and soft red prints rising on her haunches where I'd touched. Her thighs, too. The enduring sound of Jodie's sluttish groans and the harsh whack of my palm against Christine's skin. Her knees spreading wider, her pussy shaved and so fucking pink and pretty, glimmering with her juices. I knelt down behind her and buried my face in it.

Behind me, Jodie's voice took on a new tenor, and the words "oh, fuck" staggered out of her lips. One day, much later, she'd clarify that this was the moment he'd started licking her ass.

I sucked energetically at Christine's clit, pulling it into my mouth and licking with frenzy before releasing it, spreading her wide with my hands grasped round her thighs and sliding my tongue up between her lips. I loved the sound of her moaning so much - so joyful, no shyness to speak of, she was the happiest to have her cunt eaten with such glee. I tilted my head and sucked at her clit once more, pushing two fingers into her hole and fucking a slow measure, delighting in the feedback of her hips writhing backwards into my face.

Behind me, I heard Jodie clamber shakily off the bike, and the slippery sound of urgent kissing, and of fabric being hurriedly pulled aside and tossed to the floor. I stood, discarding my clothes, and Christine rolled over, beaming with pride as she removed Jodie's top from her chest and she spread for me. Mounting the bed, I pushed my hard, wet prick deep into pussy, pinning her wrists behind her head as she arched and moaned at the penetration, rolling my hips forward to fill her and enjoy her deep, sweet warmth squeezing my cock without a shred of care for the meaning of what I was doing. She arched and squirmed off the bed as I pounded into her, moaning together, her eyes shifting between rolling back and staring into mine as she howled the word Yes over and over.

And suddenly Jodie was next to us, on her hands and knees, ass in the air and waiting for Ted, who knelt next to me and guided his cock up into her cunt, exciting a soft "yes" from my pretend wife as it found his depth and he too fucked with that particular, desperate aggression I felt too. As Jodie moaned so fucking sweetly and her gorgeous body bucked and shook she looked back into my eyes and smiled with gritted teeth, an evil grin that shared in the unbelievable rush of betraying our lovers together with barely a hint of a question. Ted's moans of pleasure were no less creepy to me, even now. I wondered how many they'd claimed like this. Jodie was another thrill-seeking slut they'd yanked out of propriety. So was I.

I released Christine's hands when they pulled urgently against my grip, and she reached under her pillow, pulling out an artfully shaped and gold-detailed vibrator and holding it on her clit as it began to buzz. I spread her thigh wider with one hand and grasped her breast with the other, fucking deep and raw into her streaming wet cunt and feeling those vibrations down to the base of my cock. She and I moaned long, happy moans together as her tension skyrocketed and then peaked, her body trembling and jerking as it seized her. Shrieks, yelps, moans, contortions of her beautiful face and strange, almost painful-looking twists. Her cunt clamped down on my cock as tension and release flowed through Christine's body, until I was able to slide free, and watch her relax into the bed, shiny with sweat and barely lucid with pleasure.

Ted groaned the deep groan of his own mounting orgasm, fucking my beautiful friend as if he had every intention of releasing it inside her. Her sweaty body lurched forward off his dick, rolling underneath him and stretching out - and fuck, I couldn't believe how amazing she looked, her tits falling lazily aside and her spine arching her delicately soft tummy off the bed to accept each long, sticky shot of his cum onto her skin.

She lay there, panting, grinning stupidly, with warm cum splattered from her waist to her sternum, pooling in her navel. She giggled at me dreamily, before her stare alighted on my still very hard prick.

"Oh, you didn't...?" She shuffled herself upright as Ted crawled behind her to find his own wife, cradling her and she shuddered and moaned sweetly beneath me, seeming to forget about me in a moment as they fell into a kiss together. Jodie knelt on the floor and pulled at my wrist to come stand before her. Looking up at me, I saw the face of a friend close enough to be family, mascara mildly streaked, sweat running down her face and a sincere, familiar smile as she caressed my cock with both hands. It was near to looking at a new person; I had always loved her cheeky, friendly face, in a platonic joy that felt safe and comforting. Now, it was a weary portrait of dangerous pleasure.

She opened up that smile and closed her lips around the head of my cock in a kiss that spread out and enveloped me, cleaning Christine's juices from my skin with satisfied, muffled moans, and replacing them with a generous measure of warm drool. I gasped, happily, then moaned, and breathed and then spoke her name with my fingers dragging in her short cropped hair. There was no latitude left to deny that I had done all of this because I wanted her. That doing this with her was the meaning in all of it. And I didn't even know if she felt the same, even as her neck jerked to fuck her warm mouth onto me, her tongue scraping and lapping, palms gripping my thighs in unmistakable worship. I felt longing for her.

And that would have been enough to push me over the edge. But with that realisation swelled a resurgence of my guilt, as if I had only been able to suppress my conscience as long as it could all be waved away as frivolous and meaningless. No, this was betrayal. It was the rush of that debasement that became my orgasm. A first stream of cum shot onto Jodie's tongue and her eyes widened, drawing back and still wearing that smile of contemptible elation as more followed, shooting jets of warm, white fluid onto her lips and cheeks, her eyes fearlessly open to keep contact with mine as I coated her. My friend's wife. My wife's friend. My friend, whose face was now dripping with my own cum, both of us panting together and sharing in this grateful mutual worship.

She stood up, her legs shaking. A euphoric mess of sweat and cum. She had had no orgasm, no release. Simply high, riding the joy of the event. We looked at the bed. If they weren't sleeping, they were certainly very still, and near out of it. She looked back at me.

"I... we have to do this again. Right?"

"Yeah... I feel... yeah..."

"Together. You and me. We have to keep this... we have to find others."

I already knew who. Bring it full circle. Dig the hole even deeper. "Tom and Susan."

Jodie's face spread into a grin of unabashed delight. Ted and Christine both sat up off the bed. "What? With your...?"

"Different Tom and Susan" I said, hurriedly. It seemed to satisfy them.

They were hospitable in the aftermath. Everyone got their own wedding ring back. They let us both shower, and we - with shaky legs - dismantled the bike and brought it down to the car, along with several clothes that Jodie had liked. That blue gown, especially. On the drive home, we hatched a plan for her to wear it in the initiation of another encounter with our spouses. If we could close the loop, draw them into this thing we had discovered, then perhaps it wouldn't feel so wrong, over time. Still, everything was out of order now. As we embraced, and said goodbye, we knew this was something special between us. Vital. Something that, perhaps, could never be squared with our loves. What do you think?

The next Saturday came faster than I expected.

Ryan's phone buzzed at dinner on Thursday. He read it and grinned.

"The guys are coming over on Saturday" he said. "Are you good with that?"

I stirred my rice and kept my face calm. "I am good with that" I said.

He just didnt know.....I had already decided what I was going to do.

That week I played it safe around Ryan. Quiet. A little distant. Like the thing from before had passed. He noticed, the way men notice when the good part stops, and he looked almost relieved.

"Guess you cooled off" he said one night on the couch.

"I think I changed my mind" I said. "It was just a phase."

He smiled and kissed my head. "No worries, babe. I get it."

He thought it was over. That was exactly what I wanted him to think. He never said a word about it to the guys. It was just between me and him.

Saturday came. Bottles. Laughter. The same five voices.

I stayed in the bedroom longer than usual. When I came out, I kept to the edge of the room. Calm. Like I was not into it anymore. The friend who had got caught looking before watched me from across the room, confused, like he was waiting for the version of me from last time. I gave him nothing.

Hours passed. One by one they left. Marco. The one who called me nice. The quiet one. Ryan walked them out, laughing at the door.

And the last one was at the kitchen counter, refilling his bottle from the tap, like he had forgotten something.

I stood in the hallway. Ryan was at the front door, still talking. The kitchen was empty and ten feet away.

I walked in.

He looked up when I entered. Water ran over his hand.

"Sienna, I didnt expect you to come in here" he said.

"You forgot your drink" I said. But im just pretending to know nothing

He set it down and wiped his hand on his jeans.

Instead.....I stepped closer.

His throat moved. He wasnt drunk, not like the others. Just nervous, and now something else was waking up in his eyes.

"Ryan is my friend and you are his wife" he said.

"I know exactly who I am" I said.

Then I did the thing I had thought about for a week. I reached out and took his wrist. I pulled his hand to my hip, over the fabric, and held it there.

He froze. His palm was warm through the cloth.

"Sienna, we should not be doing this" he breathed.

I leaned in. His mouth met mine before he finished the thought. Not soft. Not careful. Like he had wanted it as long as I had, and the lie I told Ryan made it hotter. His other hand found my waist and pulled me against him. I felt the want in him, real now, not a glance across a room but a thing pressed to me, and nobody in the living room knew a thing.

Ryan's laugh cut from the doorway. "You coming or what" he called.

I broke the kiss and stepped back. The friend's eyes were wide, his lips wet, his breath short.

"I should go before Ryan sees us" he said.

"Yeah" I said.

He left through the kitchen, past Ryan, like nothing happened. Ryan came back in, grinning.

"Thought he got lost" he said.

I smiled. My mouth still tasted like him, and Ryan had no idea.

"He was just getting water" I said.

Brooks was tall. Really tall. I literally had to tilt my head back just to look up at his face when we were both standing. I'm a pretty small and thin girl, and I love a good size difference because it makes me feel feminine.

We met at a party and really talked about nothing important. I asked him about what he did for work, and he asked me back. I just said "I make bad decisions mostly" and he laughed.

His hand was on my thigh under the table. I don't remember when that started exactly, but all of a sudden it was happening. One minute we were talking and then his hand was suddenly there and his thumb was moving in small circles and my cock was honestly getting kinda hard.

We left together. His apartment was close. We walked and he held my hand and I thought about how my hand looked so tiny in his and how small I felt next to him and how much I liked that feeling.

His apartment was clean and organized. He seemed well put together which I also liked. He closed the door and turned to me and I was already reaching for his belt. I wanted him.

"In a hurry?" he said.

"You have no idea." I said in a desperate little voice.

I got his jeans open finally and I pulled them down and. Okay. Wow. I don't know what else to even say. I was stunned. I always expect tall and big guys to be big down there, but this was on a whole new level.

He was big. Not like "oh that's bigger than average" big. Big big. Thick, long, only semi hard so farm, but still way bigger than most guys I have been with. When I wrapped my hand around him my fingers almost didn't even close all the way. Just the fingertips were touching. I just stood there looking at it and he was watching me look at it and i'm sure he has had this exact experience a bunch of times and he almost looked amused by it.

"Still want to stay?" he asked.

"Shut up." I said.

I got on my knees. I took his cock into my mouth as far as I could, which was not as far as I wanted lol, and he moaned softly and put his hand in my hair and pushed gently. I did my best to suck him with my mouth and my I used my hand to hopefully help and he was patient while I figured out how to manage the insane size of him.

"That's good," he said. Quiet. His placed his palm along my cheek while I sucked on him as best as I could. "Really good." he said.

I was hard too. My cock was pushing against my clothes and he noticed and reached down and pulled me up and kissed me and his hand went down to feel me through my clothes.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Please."

He undressed me. Carefully. Shirt first. Then my jeans. He paused when he saw me. I'm used to the pause. I'm used to guys feeling a little uncertain when they first see that I have a cock and small tits and hips that curve the way they do. Even if they already know i'm trans like he did, I think its just a bit of a shock to them to actually see it. Most of them get over it pretty fast. His hand wrapped around my cock and stroked me once, slow, and he said "You're beautiful" and I believed him.

He laid me on the bed after. We kissed for a long time. Just making out and feeling each other all over. His body was huge compared to mine, and I liked the weight of him and the way his cock pressed against my thigh. It was so big I could hardly get over it.

"I want to fuck you," he said against my mouth.

"Yes."

He was careful and slow which I def appreciated. He used a lot of lube and went slow and the stretch was. A lot. I felt every inch going into my ass and I grabbed the sheets hard and just breathed through it and he waited for me to adjust. He kept stopping to check my face and I kept saying "keep going" until he was all the way in and I felt so full I couldn't speak anymore.

He moved slow at first. Long strokes that made my whole body roll with the motion. His hand was on my hip and his mouth was on my neck and I was making sounds I have literally never made before.

"More" I said.

"Fuck me harder"

He went deeper. Harder. Each thrust hit me hard and I could feel everything throughout my whole body.

"Touch yourself," he said.

I reached between us and wrapped my hand around my own cock and stroked it while he fucked my tight little ass and the combination of both was so overwhelming I can't even describe it. He was so deep inside me and my hand was moving so fast at this point and I could feel it building up inside me.

I came first. Hard. My cock pulsed in my hand and I shot across my stomach and even all the way up to my face where some landed on my lips and cheek. He leaned down and kissed me and we passed back and forth the little drop of cum that had landed on my lips. He moaned into my mouth and fucked me harder and harder as we kissed.

"I'm close," he said.

"Don't stop."

He came with massive pulse. I felt him pulse inside me and his load was huge I could already tell. His orgasm went on for a while, way longer than most. He finally pulled out of me and instantly I felt a river of cum dripping out of my ass.

He laughed. I laughed. He handed me a towel and I cleaned up and we lay there for another hour just talking and his hand was on my stomach the whole time, and I just kept thinking about how big he was and how I knew this was gonna hurt the next day.

I felt it the next day. I felt it for two days actually. I texted him about it and he sent back a smiley face and I swear to fucking god I have never been so turned on by a smiley face in my life.

It had been a week since her trip. Just long enough that everything should’ve gone back to normal. But I guess nothing was really normal after that weekend.

She was back. And so was he. Back to pretending, back to playing boyfriend. But something had shifted.

Because I was still coming over. Still sneaking in through the side gate, still biting my lip when his hands slipped under my clothes before I even got through the door. Still letting him bend me over the furniture she paid for.

And I knew it was reckless. But there was something addictive about being the secret. Especially when the risk felt so good.

He was in the shower when it happened.

The sex had been quick this time and I barely made it through the door before he had me up against the wall, one leg hitched around his hip, his cock buried so deep inside me I forgot my own name.

My thighs were still slick with his cum.

I was moving fast, trying to clean up, hunting for my phone and bra when I saw it: A slim, gold tube on the nightstand.

I knew instantly.

My eyebrow pencil.

The one I’d raved about to my friends. The one I’d bought online after seeing too many TikToks about it. The one I thought I lost last time I was here.

And now it was sitting in plain view.

Right next to his cologne and that ugly lamp she bought him for his birthday.

Fuck.

I must’ve left it here last weekend.

Maybe while I was tossing everything out of my bag, desperate to find condoms, even though we wouldn’t use them. Or when I climbed onto him without even undressing first, grinding against him like I didn’t care what I dropped or broke or lost.

But now it was out. And if she saw it or when she saw it... she’d definitely know it wasn’t hers.

Because it was specific. Too specific.

Girls like her? They notice things. The packaging. The shade name. The stupid little triangle tip that made it viral.

And she might not know me... not my name, not my face... but she’d know this wasn’t hers.

I grabbed it fast, heart racing, and shoved it deep into my purse like it was evidence.

I was halfway to the door when I heard the bathroom click open.

He walked out, towel hanging dangerously low, water glistening on his chest, like he didn’t have a girlfriend coming home in a few hours.

“Leaving already?” he asked.

“I should,” I said, trying to avoid looking at him. Trying not to remember how good his cock had just felt buried inside me.

He stepped closer. His grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Just gonna sneak off without saying goodbye?”

He reached out.

Fingers under my chin. Lifting. Tilting.

My eyes met his, and just like that, I was fucked all over again.

“I already said goodbye,” I whispered.

But I didn’t pull away.

His thumb dragged over my bottom lip.

“You were rushing.”

His other hand slid down my back. Found the curve of my ass. Gripped.

“You forget something?”

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because he was already kissing me.

Hungry. Deep.

He pushed me back against the edge of the bed, the towel falling to the floor without a second thought.

He was hard already.

His cock thick and stiff and flushed, like it had missed me.

He yanked my leggings down. Peeled off my panties.

“Still wet,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through the mess between my legs.

I shivered.

And then he was on his knees.

Eating me out like he hadn’t had breakfast.

Long, slow licks. The kind that made my knees shake. The kind that made me arch my back and beg.

He sucked on my clit until I gasped, then slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, making me moan his name so loud I had to slap a hand over my mouth.

When I came, it was a full-body tremor.

Shaking.

Soaking his face.

He stood up, wiped his mouth, and grinned.

“Still in a rush?”

I didn’t answer.

Because he was already turning me around, bending me over the bed, spreading me open.

And then he was inside.

All of him.

No teasing this time. No warm-up. Just thick cock driving into me with one brutal thrust that made me bite the sheet.

He groaned.

“Fuck, you feel better every time.”

He started slow. Deep.

The kind of rhythm that made you ache for more. The kind of rhythm that teased your body open, stretch by stretch, until all you could do was moan.

The bed creaked.

His hands gripped my hips so tight I knew they’d bruise.

He leaned over, voice in my ear.

“She asked if I’d cleaned our bedroom yesterday.”

I froze.

He didn’t stop thrusting.

“She said something felt… off.”

My heart kicked into overdrive.

He pulled out halfway.

Then slammed back in.

I gasped.

“She’s just suspicious,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know.”

Another thrust. Deeper this time.

“She said it smelled different in here.”

He dragged his tongue up my neck.

“Probably your perfume.”

His cock pulsed inside me.

“I told her it was a new air freshener.”

And then he fucked me harder. Like the lie turned him on. Like keeping her in the dark made the sex better.

It did.

For both of us.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, dizzy.

“You love sneaking around. Leaving your scent on my sheets. Leaving little clues.”

“I didn’t mean to — ”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He thrust hard.

“You want her to know.”

My pussy clenched around him.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he growled. “You do.”

And he came.

Deep.

Hot.

Filling me up so full I could feel it dripping down the back of my thighs.

We didn’t speak for a few minutes.

Just breathing.

Sweating.

Fucked out.

Eventually, I got dressed. Again.

This time slower. Smarter.

No eyebrow pencil left behind.

But later that night, he sent me a text.

“She found one of your hairs on the nightstand.”

My stomach twisted.

But his next message?

“Told her it was my sister’s.”

I didn’t reply.

Because I wasn’t scared.

Not yet.

So there we were…two friends, just lying there, his cock hard and my head on his stomach, pretending it wasn’t happening…

For the longest time, I didn’t move, and neither did he.

I must have taken all the willpower he possessed not to tense his cock at the sight before him; his best friend with her delicate fingers resting half on his balls and half at the base of his cock, her T-shirt almost thin enough to see through and her skirt now riding up so high he knew the exact shape and size of her underwear.

And, if I had been bold enough in that moment to open my legs, he would have seen how wet it was too.

Instead, I started to move my fingers. I told myself that I was just getting comfy, that I often put my hand in front of me like that when I go to sleep. After all, it was only his balls—he probably wouldn’t even notice, right? It was just my hand settling, finding a comfortable position.

Only, my body was telling a different story, my clit starting to throb and pussy starting to contract a little. His body, too, was responding; tiny, almost imperceptible tremors, his breathing getting deeper with each pass, sometimes stopping for a second before returning to its regular rhythm.

Fuck I was horny. This was getting too much.

I needed to suck it or ride it or choke on it or something otherwise I was going to explode.

“Mmmm,” I hummed, gyrating my hips slightly. “Are you comfortable enough?”

“Uhh…” His voice was strained. “Yeah. Uh. Yeah. This is nice.”

“Oh,” I said, making my voice as theatrically disappointed as I could manage in the small space. “I’m struggling to get comfy.”

“Oh,” he said, disappointment in his own voice. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” I whispered. “Not at all. You’re my pillow now.” I giggled. “You have a very important job.”

“I see,” he said, matching my laughter. But I could tell he didn’t get it. Not really. But he was about to. “It’s this fabric,” I said. “On your shorts. It’s a bit scratchy…”

I heard him swallow from behind me. Like, I actually fucking heard him swallow. I thought that only happened in movies when the sound guy got a bit too excited. It also made me realise that this whole time, ever since I woke up with my head next to his throbbing cock, from almost wrapping my lips around it to basically giving his balls a massage, I hadn't looked at him once.

I turned my head.

His face—a face I had seen so many times before, from happy to sad, from angry to hurt, from confused to amusded—had taken on a quality I had never seen before. It was something like desire and lust and restraint and friendship and embarrassment all rolled into one and it was honestly one of the hottest things I had ever seen in my life. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were alternating between focused and unfocused as I continued to caress his balls as I spoke.

“Could you take them off for me?”

My angle, half way down his body, further reinforced the sexual nature of our positioning, and I had to look up at him through my long eyelashes, both of my breasts now resting on his tummy, dangerously close to smothering his cock.

“Please? Pretty please? For me? I won’t make it weird, I promise.”

He swallowed again, but this time it was accompanied by a very slight nod of his head.

“Yay,” I smiled. “Want me to help take them off for you?”

“No,” he said, his voice tight. “I…I got it.”

“Okay,” I said quietly, leaning back from him and watching as his hands went to his shorts in the dim light of the room. I watched him with one hand gently cupping one of my breasts, my thumb slowly caressing my erect nipple as I watched the confusion and hesitation play out on his face. Seeing him like that was so hot. I didn’t even realise I was touching myself. It wasn’t until I noticed that I was licking my lips that I came back to myself, realising what his hesitation was. “Boxer shorts too,” I clarified. “If that’s okay? I just want to be comfy.”

“Uh. If it’s…I mean…yeah.”

He took a deep breath and made the move I had been waiting for, finally revealing what I had been thinking about for the last fifteen minutes, the thing I had been fantasizing about kissing and licking and sucking and riding ever since I was confronted with the sudden awareness that he possessed it.

His cock.

Leo had been my friend for years, and suddenly, my mind was filled with snapshot memories of our time together. Thirty hours together building the Lego Death Star. Late nights on eBay hunting down the rare action figures he needed for his collection. Holding his hand when he cried telling me about how Sophie cheated on him with Mike.

And now, this. Naked from the waist down, his shorts and underwear now in a little pile on the floor somewhere, my eyes fully adjusted to the darkness of the room.

And oh my god, what a cock.

Maybe it was just because he was my friend, or maybe it was because I hadn’t seen one in a while, but my first thought was that Sophie was an idiot. If I had access to a cock like that I would play with it every day; tease it and cherish it and fuck it over and over and over again.

But as it was, we were just friends, so I made a point of not looking at it and instead smiled sweetly at him, placing my hand on his thigh.

“Oh my god thanks, that looks so much more comfy. Are you sure this is okay?”

His cock jumped a little. I pretended not to notice.

He nodded.

“Thanks,” I brought my head down to his tummy and licked my lips. “You’re such a good friend.”

I knew what I needed to do…

[More tomorrow if you want it!]

His mouth stayed on my neck. Warm. Slow. The same husband I had been with for nine years, only now there was a new current under his hands.

I closed my eyes and let the thought sit. The room. The five of them. The way they had looked at me like I was something they wanted and could not touch. Ryan knew. He had always known. That was the part that made my skin hum.

"We should try to get some sleep" I said. Not because I wanted to stop, but because I wanted to keep the door open, not slam it.

"Yeah, we should get some sleep" he murmured against my skin.

But neither of us moved for a while. His arm stayed around me. My leg stayed pressed to his. The want was still there, folded under the blanket, waiting.

The next morning came slow. Light through the curtain. Ryan already up, coffee in the kitchen like always. Normal. Safe. Only now I knew the safe part had a door in it, and he had left it open on purpose.

I found him at the counter. He slid a mug toward me.

"You managed to sleep okay last night" he said.

"I slept some, but my thinking kept me up for a while" I said.

He looked at me over the rim of his cup. "You were thinking about them" he said.

"I was thinking about you and them" I said. "And what you said to me, that you liked it."

He set the cup down. "I meant every word of it" he said. "I aint scared of this, Sienna. I already told you that"

I held my mug and felt the heat through the ceramic. "Then we should talk about it before the next time they come over" I said.

He nodded once. "We will talk when you are ready for it" he said.

.................I was already ready for it.

That day moved quiet. I went to work, hands on backs and shoulders, sore again by the fifth client. But the soreness felt different now. Like my body knew something had shifted. Every time I thought of the living room, the warm thing low in my stomach came back, steady.

"You seem like you are somewhere else today" my last client said.

"I am just thinking about some things" I said.

At home that night, Ryan cooked. Simple thing. He hummed while he did it. Normal. Only now normal had a second layer, and we both knew it.

After dinner we sat on the couch. The same couch the guys had crowded a week before. He put his arm behind me.

"Next time they come over, you do whatever feels good to you" he said. "I aint gonna be mad about it. I already told you that."

I looked at him. "And if what feels good to me is not just them looking at me" I said.

He was quiet for a second. Then he smiled, that loose one from the night before.

"We will talk about that too" he said. "But I aint gonna lie to you, Sienna. The idea of it gets me hard"

My face went warm. Not from shame. From the same thing that had started it all, the night I heard them through the wall.

"I know you got hard" I said. "I felt you against me last night"

He laughed, soft. "Yeah, you felt exactly that" he said.

We left it there. Not finished. Just opened. The door was still there, and now we had both walked up to it.

I went to bed that night without the fear I had at the start. The compliments were still in my head, but they were not just voices through a wall anymore. They were a thing Ryan and I shared now. Something we built together, slow, without rushing it.

And I knew, the next time the doorbell rang, I wouldnt hide in the bedroom.

When I was in college, I spent a semester in Costa Rica. I lived in a homestay with another girl named Sam. We seemed to be the only people with boyfriends back home, so we gravitated toward each other. Unfortunately for me, Ian was staying directly across the street. He was a cute guy with medium length, curly hair and a quiet, thoughtful vibe.

Each weekend we took the bus to the coast. I’d stick by Sam, but somewhere on every trip, I end up alone with Ian. Just talking. I developed a massive crush on him, but kept telling myself I had a boyfriend. 

Two-thirds of the way through the semester, Sam, Ian, and I planned a weekend to Nicaragua. I was surprised Sam agreed to go on a trip with just me and Ian. They got along, but she had already warned me that I was too careless around him. She watched him with a silent, protective skepticism whenever he went off with me. 

A little over a week before the trip, Sam's boyfriend broke up with her. Sam was devastated. I assumed we would cancel. If she backed out, I couldn’t go. The sheer panic and desire of being alone with Ian without a buffer for an entire weekend overwhelmed me. 

But at the last minute, Sam rallied, desperate for a distraction. 

By the second night, we were exhausted. We’d spent the previous night in a small, windowless club, the heat pressing in as Sam danced aggressively between Ian and me. After exploring the city and coast all day, we lingered in the hotel room. 

Ian sat shirtless on the edge of his bed. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on the ceiling fan, but my eyes kept drifting down his chest. He wasn’t a gym rat or meat head, but he had this dense tension of a climber. I’d caught myself on beach trips resisting the urge to reach out and touch his shoulders, instead imagining the feeling of his muscles underneath. 

Sam and I sprawled across the other mattress in damp t-shirts and shorts. Conversation had fragmented, and we’d lapsed into the contented silence of people who were totally comfortable with each other. To avoid looking at Ian, I flipped over and lay flat on my stomach. 

 “Are you guys sore?” I mumbled into the pillow. “My back is a giant knot.” 

I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. It was a throw away complaint. 

“Ian,” Sam said into the quiet.  “You should massage Kat’s back.”  

I lifted my head, surprised that Sam was telling Ian to touch me. She wasn’t looking at me; her eyes were locked on Ian, waiting for his reaction. 

“Seriously, do you need a back massage, Kat?” he asked in such an earnest way I melted a little. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Kat,” Sam interrupted, her tone flat and directive. “Let him do it. It’ll help.” 

I shot her a sharp, questioning glare, but she just offered an innocent smile. 

“I will,” Ian said. “if you want me to.”

I did. I wanted the friction of those hands rubbing my back. But I was the only one in this room tethered to a boyfriend back home. The thought of him touching me felt too dangerous. 

“Okay,” I breathed into the pillow. “If you don’t mind.” 

The mattress dipped as Ian climbed on. We shifted—Sam moving to my left, Ian settling on my right. His hands landed softly on my lower back. He worked his thumbs up my spine, tracing the muscles until his fingers hit the clasp of my bra, then retreated downward until stopping right above the waistband of my shorts.

“Where do you want me to focus?” he asked. 

I tapped my upper shoulders, and he shifted his weight to apply pressure there. 

Sam sat up. “You can’t give a massage over a shirt. It's terrible.” 

Before I could argue, she grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and yanked upward. I found myself shifting, raising my chest so the shirt slid up above my bra. Then her fingers brushed my spine, and with a quick flick, she unhooked my bra. She didn’t pull the t-shirt over my head, just bunched the cotton toward my neck. She reached down and with a flick of her fingers unsnapped my bra. The sudden release of tension, and knowing my bare back was exposed to Ian, forced me to take a deep inhale to compose myself. My chest was pressed into the bed; I rationalized that Ian couldn’t see anything but my back. 

Ian’s hands returned to my now bare back. He wasn’t aggressive enough to actually work out the knots, but the careful fiction of his palms against my skin left me completely engrossed.

After a minute, Sam’s fingers joined his. She slid her fingers up the base of my neck, into my hair, her nails scraping gently in slow, deliberate circles across my scalp. 

I’d been holding it together, telling myself this was just a massage, that the pooling heat in me was innocent, but the dual sensation of Ian’s palms feeling each one of my ribs while Sam’s nails wove into my hair risked overwhelming any restraint I had. Deprived of any physical intimacy for three months, the sudden onslaught of touch shot down to my groin, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound. 

I forced my breathing into long, controlled inhales and exhales, trying to just absorb the feelings without tipping over the edge. 

Just when my control seemed to be returning, Sam spoke. “I’d like a turn, when you’re done.” 

I’d been dangerously close to an edge I couldn’t cross. It felt like a good time to get out of the situation. My bra was still unhooked, the straps tangled under my arms. Keeping my chest against the mattress, I slid the straps down, pulling the lace free, and tossed it toward my suitcase. I yanked my shirt down below my tits before pushing myself upright. 

“Feel better?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“My turn,” she said.  

Sam crossed her arms, and without hesitating, grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She sat there in a plain black bra and paused for a beat while Ian took her in. Sam and I had changed in front of each other countless times, but she had always maintained a rigid boundary around Ian. 

She rolled onto her stomach and reached back, unclipping her bra, then threw it casually off the edge of the bed. Her entire torso lay bare, the edges of her breasts visible where they pressed into the bedding.

Ian looked down at her bare back, then shot a glance at me, as though I’d caught him in a trap. 

I let out a sudden laugh at his uncertainty. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. 

“Nothing,” I managed. “Ian is just being a dork.” 

“Is he being weird?” 

“No, he’s just being cute.” 

Sam groaned at me as a deep, embarrassed flush crept up Ian’s neck. 

I gave him a small nod, trying to reassure him it was okay to touch her. He slowly lowered his hands to her back, his thumbs pressing into her shoulders, circling her shoulder blades for a minute as I watched. 

“Anything specific you want?” 

Instead of just pointing, Sam lifted herself on one arm, entirely exposing the profile of her bare breast as she twisted to indicate a spot on her lower back. 

I would have rolled my eyes at her lack of subtext, but was too busy watching Ian take in that glimpse of her tits. 

As she settled back, Ian moved his hands to her lower back. Every so often, his eyes would dart up to meet mine, silently checking my reaction to the display. Each time, I’d break away from his stare after only a fraction of a second before my eyes drifted back down, unable to stop watching his fingers dig into the skin just inches above her ass. 

I snuck a glance back up. He’d been watching my face, but now his eyes were fixed on my chest. Since I’d tossed off my bra, my nipples pressed hard against my thin cotton shirt. Sam’s teasing and the massage hadn’t calmed me down at all, and now my nipples were hard nubs. Ian had snuck glances at my chest before, but he had never lingered like this. 

I slid closer to Sam and ran my fingers up her back. I didn’t try to massage her; I just traced my fingers over her skin, sliding them down her side and then back up her spine. Each time, I got a little bolder, pushing the boundary to see where she’d stop me. On my fourth pass, my fingers traced so far down her side that they brushed the curve of her breast. Rather than stopping me, she shifted slightly so she was barely leaning toward me, giving my fingers better access. 

“Ian, will you massage my legs? Right here.” Sam pointed down at her hamstrings right below the cut of her shorts. 

Ian shifted lower, his fingers working through her hamstrings, each time stopping just after slipping into her shorts. Sam shifted, widening her legs. 

Her intentions were suddenly glaringly obvious. If I reached down and took her breast in my hand, I doubted there would be any resistance. If I pulled her head up by the hair and kissed her, she would lean into it. If Ian slid his fingers up and slowly worked them into her pussy, Sam would not just allow, but encourage him to keep going. 

I sat there tracing my fingers across her body, paralyzed. There was no way I could have a threesome with Sam and Ian. But it was clear Sam wanted Ian tonight. She knew I wanted him, but I had a boyfriend so I told myself he was fair game. I rubbed her along her ribs trying to consider if it was better or worse that she was doing it right in front of me.

I forced my breathing to level. I told myself I would just watch and see how far they went, then leave before anything happened. I’d wander the streets of an unknown third-world city until they finished. 

And as if on cue, Sam twisted around once again, this time shifting onto her side so her tits were fully exposed. She half pretended to cover herself with her hands, but managed to cover neither breast. 

“My glutes are really tight. Ian, can you massage them?” She pointed right at her ass. 

My fingers were on their downswing when she sat up. I brought them down lower and ran them down the side of her chest, then down her stomach. Before she settled back down, she looked up at me and gave me a small, shy smile, like she was somehow embarrassed about what she was doing. 

A part of me wanted to yell at her, to demand why she needed to fuck Ian when she could have any guy. But I repeated my mantra. Ian was single. It wasn’t fair for him to sit there flirting with me all semester, denying himself any enjoyment. 

Sam’s hand came up from her side, and she slid it into my lap. The hot fingers traced up my inner thigh and then stopped just below my shorts. I looked down at her, but she’d buried her face in the pillow as she moved her fingers in slow circles up my thigh. I fought the urge to press my groin into her fingers. 

I should leave, I thought. Before it was too late. 

Ian’s hands went to her ass. He worked them in, and this time was less shy about what and where he touched. He took her right asscheek between his hands and rubbed it over the fabric of her shorts. Watching his hands, watching him work her ass, a heavy throb settled between my thighs; I wasn’t sure, but if his hands grabbed my asscheek like that, I might cum in front of them both. 

When I looked up from his hands, his eyes were on me. He was no longer hiding his glances; he’d flick between watching my face and staring down at my chest. The urge to be bold nearly overwhelmed my senses. I could just lift my shirt off and let him see everything, let him truly see my small tits without needing to steal looks or study the outline, but crossing that line meant a fucking threesome and destroying my life. 

Ian took that moment to reach into his shorts. He could have adjusted himself with a subtle shift, but his hand sank deep past his waistband. The rigid outline of his erection pressed upward against the fabric as he gave me an embarrassed smile, a silent apology for being turned on while I was considering whether I’d cum if he touched me. 

He went back to work on Sam’s ass while my fingers explored more of her. Sam shifted slightly so her shoulder closest to me was lifted off the bed. It wasn’t the most natural position for her, an angle I assumed designed specifically to give me access to her chest. To test, I slid my fingers down her shoulder until I felt the soft outline of her breast. Rather than continuing the movement down her side, my fingers cupped the weight of her tit for a moment. Sam let out a small gasp and her nails dug into my thigh, pressing upwards toward my panty line. 

I only paused for a moment, then kept my fingers moving, continuing their circular path. 

“Ian, it's kind of uncomfortable when you rub over my shorts. Is it weird if you just slip your hands under?”

Ian hesitated, his hands freezing while squeezing her asscheek.

At this latest boldness, a jealous anger threatened to consume me, warring with the heat I knew Sam was inches from pressing her fingers into. I was furious that she was doing this right in front of me, angry that she was able to so blatantly get away with this and I wasn’t. Even if Ian was free, did she have to make me a witness to it?

I wanted to slap her ass or hurt her in some way. Instead, the desire won out; I decided to steer directly into this disaster. 

“No, Sam,” I said. “It's not weird to have Ian massage your glutes under your shorts. Go ahead, Ian.” 

He looked at me in disbelief, searching my face to see if I was being serious. 

“Go ahead,” I said, looking directly at him. 

His fingers slipped into the bottom of Sam’s shorts, and she immediately shifted so her legs were fully spread, opening her pussy to him.

His fingers went back to her glutes, though, ignoring the invitation as he worked his thumbs deeply into the muscle.  

I watched, my breath shallow as he kneaded the flesh of her ass. 

Sam raised her hips slightly, chasing his touch, and I saw the exact moment his hand slipped low enough that he found her pussy. Sam tensed and pressed her chest down into the bed for a moment. Her fingers dug into my thigh enough that it would have been painful if I wasn’t so aroused. She lay there while Ian’s fingers moved up and down her folds. 

After a minute, Sam leaned up, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me down so her lips were pressed into my ear. 

“I want to fuck Ian,” she said in barely a whisper. I didn’t think Ian could hear, but I also didn’t see how he could expect anything else. 

I didn’t whisper back.

“I think you’ve made that pretty obvious.”

She whispered back, “Are you okay with that?”

“You can if you want.” I said. “I don’t think there is any stopping you at this point.” 

She held herself there, with her mouth against my ear for a moment, weighing the risk, sensing the acid in my tone. Her breath was hot against my ear. I could see Ian watching us, his fingers obviously penetrating Sam’s pussy under her shorts right in front of me. 

Then her tongue darted out and licked deep into my ear. I’d told Sam about that specific weakness of mine back when we were first getting to know each other. I groaned, then broke away from her mouth. 

I reached down and slapped her ass hard. I’d meant it to hurt. I wanted to feel a little resistance. She let out a moan though like she enjoyed that far too much, then rolled over onto her back. She wrapped her legs around Ian’s torso. 

“You can take off my shorts. For better access.” 

“I should leave,” I said. I made it as a statement, ensuring I didn’t ask a question, allowing no room for them to draw me further into this mess. 

The statement lingered as Ian watched me. I rose to my knees, preparing to move off the bed. I wasn’t sure where I would go. If we were in our homestay, I would have gone to my room. If we were in some Costa Rican beach town, I would have wandered the streets. But I didn’t want to go out into this unknown city at night alone. 

I decided I would walk out the door. I would sit on the step right outside and wait for them to finish. Perhaps I would even be able to hear it. I might be able to torture myself a little more listening to Ian grunting as he fucked Sam rather than me. 

I shifted slightly, but didn’t immediately move, taking in one last look at him staring at me. 

Right as I started to move, Sam reached up and grabbed my hair, pulling me back down to her. 

“You should stay,” Sam said. “I don’t want you wandering the streets alone.”

I didn’t believe her. I might have objected, questioning if she truly cared about me wandering the streets when I suspected my exit would simply deprive her of her audience at her moment of triumph, but before I could say anything, she pulled me into a deep kiss. Her tongue pressing into my mouth. 

The idea of kissing Sam wasn’t entirely new. I'd even spoken with my boyfriend about it. He’d always told me to go for it—the classic guy turned on by the concept of his girlfriend potentially being bi. I doubted this was what he had in mind though. 

I kissed her back until she let out a heavy moan against my lips. I broke away, my eyes catching Ian’s fingers as they slipped inside her. He brought his free hand up to work her clit. 

“Fuck, Kat. Fuck,” she moaned. 

I reached down and pinched her nipple, gripping it tightly, hoping to hurt her just a little. 

“Kat,” she whimpered, bringing her hand up to my fingers. Rather than pulling them away, she clamped her hand over mine, forcing me to pinch her harder than I had been willing to. 

I broke away, and Sam looked at me in sudden confusion, her eyes searching to see if this was finally the line she had crossed. 

Instead, I grabbed the pillows from the bed and piled them against the headboard. I slid backward, pressing my spine against the pillows, and pulled Sam up so her back pressed flush into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, my fingers returning to her breasts. Ian followed us up the mattress and immediately slipped his fingers back into Sam’s pussy. 

Sam turned her head, and I pressed my lips against hers. Sam considered herself mostly straight. She’d had a threesome with her ex and another woman once; she’d described making out and eating her out as fun, but the real draw had been how much it turned her boyfriend on. Was all of this a show for Ian and nothing more? A performance only for him with no pleasure from my lips against hers, no heat radiating through her specifically from my fingers squeezing her nipple?

I brought my tongue down and licked her neck in a long arc before returning to the kiss, hoping just a small bit of this was about me. 

We kept kissing as Ian finger fucked Sam until she finally broke away from my mouth. 

“Ian,” Sam said. “Show us your cock. It better be good for how much Kat has wanted it all semester.” 

“Sam!” I hissed, genuinely upset that she would say that in front of him.

“You’ll get to see it in a moment,” she teased. “Even if you’ll just have to imagine what it's like buried in your pussy. I won’t, though; I won’t have to imagine a thing. Right, Ian?” 

She looked at Ian. He raised himself up, but didn’t make a move to pull his shorts down. It was like the moment finally caught up with him. His eyes darted to me, waiting for permission.  

I gave him the smallest of nods, my eyes dropping to the outline in his shorts. 

He pushed the fabric down, and his hard cock sprang free. He took it in his hand and gave the shaft a few slow strokes. 

It was good. It was so fucking good. I never considered myself particular about a penis. But Ian’s? At that moment I discovered I had an idealized penis I hadn’t even known I wanted. It was larger than my boyfriend’s, but manageable, not some pornstar monster. It looked exactly the size of my favorite dildo at home. 

“Ian, there are condoms in my toiletry bag,” Sam instructed. “Grab one and put it on.”

Ian stepped off the bed and walked into the bathroom.

“Did you plan this?” I asked Sam, knowing she didn’t have condoms with her by accident.  Rather than answering, she reached up and pulled me into another kiss. She grabbed my hand from her tit and dragged it down until my fingers hit that slick heat between her legs.

The anger spiked in my chest once again, the urge to ask if this entire trip was just a setup for her to fuck Ian. But when my fingers landed on her clit, I didn’t hesitate. I started rubbing small circles. 

Ian came back into the room, the latex stretched over his tight erection, and stood at the end of the bed. 

“Give me one of those pillows,” Sam said. 

She grabbed a pillow from behind me and shoved it under her lower back, tilting her pelvis up toward him.

This time, Ian didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wait for a nod from me. He crawled onto the bed and brought his cock directly to Sam’s entrance, rubbing the head up and down her wet slit. On the upstroke, his cock brushed my fingers still pressed into Sam’s clit. I pressed my mouth against Sam’s ear and groaned my frustration into her hair. 

Ian’s eyes locked onto me at the sound. He pressed his cock into Sam, but kept his gaze anchored on me as he penetrated her. He slid in an inch, then back out, working himself slowly in while I kept steady circles on her clit. 

“Oh god, you guys,” Sam mumbled. “It’s been too long.” 

Ian drove himself all the way to the base until his pelvis crashed against my fingers, forcing them harder against Sam’s clit. 

The desperate ache in my pussy demanded more. I wanted Sam to reach down and slide her fingers into my shorts. To finger me while she got fucked. But maybe Sam was also drawing a line. It was okay for me to be here, touching her, but if they touched me, it would cross into a threesome. Right now, it wasn’t a threesome; my best friend was getting fucked by my crush, while I just happened to be in the room. Nothing more. 

I slid my fingers down from Sam’s clit to her slick folds, where I could feel Ian’s cock sliding in and out of her. I held my hand steady, careful not to grip his shaft, letting the friction of each thrust rub against my skin.

Sam reached up, her fingers tangling into my hair to pull me back down into a bruising kiss. We made out in front of Ian, our tongues slipping together as his cock drove relentlessly past my fingers. 

After a few minutes, Sam’s breathing grew ragged, and I shifted my index finger back to her clit, applying slightly more pressure. She gripped the back of my head as she kissed me, her mouth muffling her cries against mine. I felt her muscles clamp down tight, her orgasm breaking across my fingers and shuddering down her spine to where her pelvic bone ground hard against my own desperate pussy. 

She came hard, breaking the kiss as she gasped for air, but held me close, breathing into my mouth. Ian slowed his thrusts, holding himself deep inside her as the spasms subsided. 

When her breathing leveled out, Sam turned to look over her shoulder at me, her eyes lingering for a long beat.  Then she looked up at Ian. “Are you close?”

“I can be.” He looked directly at me. “If you want me to finish.” 

“Take off the condom,” she ordered. “I want you to cum on my tits.” 

Ian pulled out and stripped off the condom. He stroked his slick shaft, his eyes burning into the two of us. Sam’s hand reached up, her fingers cupping his balls. 

He didn’t say anything or announce it, but his jaw tightened as he came. Thick ropes of cum exploded over Sam, splashing across her chest and hitting the base of her neck. A bit of cum, small enough that I wasn’t sure if either of them noticed, landed on my fingers and hand where I still gripped her tit. 

Sam let out a breathless laugh, pulled Ian down, and gave him a deep messy kiss before rolling off me and hurrying to the bathroom. Ian stayed in the bed, his chest heaving as he looked at me for a moment. The sudden absence of Sam’s body between us left me feeling completely exposed. 

“You should wash up,” I managed to say. 

He backed away slowly and followed Sam into the bathroom. When I was sure neither of them could see me, I lifted my fingers to my lips and tasted his cum. Just once. 

“Mmm…”

That was the noise I made when I first woke up, which, when I look back on it now, is super embarrassing haha.

At that point I didn’t know where I was tbh; my eyes were still closed and I had a little drool patch beneath my lips, which were pressed into the fabric beneath my head. My face was warm from whatever was beneath me, and I felt nice and comfortable and safe.

I curled my toes and stretched my ankles out and yawned, opening my eyes slowly.

The room was dark and my head was still heavy with sleep. Slowly, the shapes started to materialise in the darkness and I recognised where I was; Leo’s couch. Leo must have gone to bed and left me here after I fell asleep hanging out with him last night. That was sweet of him. Leo was always sweet, that’s why I liked hanging out and gaming and playing card games with him. He made me feel secure, and in all our years of friendship he had never hit on me, which I appreciated. I yawned again and brought my hand up to the pillow, pulling it away quickly when I felt something hard right beside my head.

Oh fuck.

Leo hadn’t gone to bed at all.

I went rigid, listening to the sounds, wondering if I really was where I thought I was. I wasn’t scared, just confused at what I thought I had just touched, and so I listened. Outside, a motorbike sped by in the distance. In the kitchen, his fridge buzzed gently and continuously. And yes, beneath both sounds I could hear it; Leo’s gentle breath as his best friend’s mouth was inches from his hard cock.

I didn’t want to jump up and make a big deal about it, and so I stayed where I was, breathing softly, feigning sleep. I was suddenly aware that in my slumber I had positioned myself so my boobs were pressed right up against him, squished against his thigh, one of them bulging over and sort of resting on him. Worse still, my nipple was erect and visible through my T-shirt.

Was that what had made him so hard?

No, that was silly. He was asleep, and that’s just what happened to guys when they slept, right? I’d read about it online. Anyway, why else would the lights be off unless he was dosing too? Or maybe he had fallen asleep and then woken up and seen me and…? What? Got hard? No. Not Leo. Surely?

Yet there it was. Right there; a hard shape almost touching my cheek through his shorts. A big, thick, throbbing cock. Leo’s cock. I couldn’t believe it. I had no idea that he was that…ahem…big. Or really even that he had a cock at all, to be honest. After all, we were just friends, and I’d never really thought about him like that…

But now I was.

I couldn’t help it. With the tip of it literally only a few centimeters from my mouth—I suddenly realised how long it had been since I had been confronted with a hard cock. Something full and throbbing and needy. I became aware I was holding my breath and let it out slowly, wondering if he could feel it.

I felt suddenly ashamed to be having such dirty thoughts about my friend, and lifted my head just a few millimeters as if to get up. But as I moved, Leo made a micro-adjustment of his own, his hips rising slightly and his cock thrusting forward toward my face, his hips settling back down into the couch cushions quickly.

It wasn’t much of an adjustment, but it was enough that his cock was now in licking distance.

Not that I was thinking about licking it.

Not even a little bit.

And I definitely wasn’t thinking about turning my mouth into a little warm wet hole for him, wrapping my lips around him and slooooooowly pushing my head down all the way to the base of it, holding myself there for as long as I could, reaching down and pulling gently on my nipples, holding my big boobs up for him, giving him something to look at while his best friend moved her tongue around his cock over, and over, and over…

But if I wasn’t thinking about any of that, why was I getting so wet?

I needed to get myself under control. I stayed still, looking into the darkness, and as my eyes continued to adjust to the low light in the room, I realised that my top had pulled up from my fidgeting, showing the skin of my stomach. My skirt was bunched around my hips, too, and my panties were showing, which meant he could probably see the round part of my ass. And I’ve been working out a lot, so it is very round right now.

Damn. He had a pretty good view of my body.

Worse, the feeling of accidentally showing it off was doing things inside me.

My heart was beating fast, and I wondered if he could feel it pounding through my boobs, which were still pressed up against him. I still had no idea if the throbbing cock before me was some sort of indication of lust or if it was simply a biological function of the guy I’d been hanging out with platonically for years.

But I needed to find out.

“Leo,” I whispered, my voice quiet. So quiet, in fact, I wondered if I wanted to be heard at all. “Are you awake?”

Nothing.

I waited for a long time.

Just when I was about to give up, he answered. “Yeah…”

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice friendly and free from lust, a ridiculous idea considering I had still not lifted my head from his lap, not wanting to ruin the intimacy of being so close to his cock. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you,” I whispered.

“It’s okay…”

I nodded gently, the simple act of inclining my head slightly bringing my bottom lip so close to the tip of his cock that he must have been able to feel the warmth of it.

“Should I…move?” I whispered.

“It’s up to you,” he said, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Not if you don’t want to. It feels kind of nice…”

“Okay,” I said, replaying the word over and over again in my mind. Nice. Me, asleep on him, my skirt up, my ass out. Nice. My big breasts pressed against his legs. Nice. His cock, hard and throbbing and inches from my mouth.

With my heart now hammering against my ribcage, I decided to push it even further. I slowly stuck out my arms in a pretend stretch that turned into a real stretch (I had been asleep, after all), my mouth opening wide in a yawn. As I made the yawning noise, I brought my head forward slightly so that the tip of his cock was within the cavity of my mouth, my lips pressed against the fabric that tented the surrounding area. It lasted only a second or two, but he must have been able to feel it, or at least the implication of it, and as I pulled my head back to rest it back on his tummy, I also draped my arm across him, leaving my forearm resting approximately where I thought his balls would be.

Leo didn’t say anything, but I thought I heard him breath a little heavier, and he moved his hips upward again. Just a little. Offering his cock to me.

At least, that’s what it felt like. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe he was just being a good friend and I was being a total slut. It was so hard to know. All that I really knew for sure was that the feeling of having my best friend inside my mouth, even through his shorts, even just for the short second it lasted, had felt exhilarating and wrong and exciting and fucking hot.

I needed to find out for sure.

“Leo?” I said. My voice was a whisper. “Is it okay?”

“Is what okay?” he said. The room was still dark, our breathing was still quiet, and my best friend's cock was still only a few centimeters from my mouth, covered by his shorts. I hadn’t bothered to pull my skirt back down, and I knew he could see at least some of my ass.

“Is it okay if I go back to sleep here?” I said, yawning again. “It’s really comfortable.”

I pushed my arm down slightly as I said it, and the effect was instant and unbelievably fucking hot, his cock jumping up in his shorts, the size and weight of it causing a little slap sound against his skin when it came back down against his tummy.

“Yeah…” he said, grunting slightly as he spoke. “You can just…relax…”

I smiled then. He didn’t see it—my head was still angled downward, very much aimed directly at his cock—but I wondered if he could feel it against his skin; his best friend grinning at the thought of ‘relaxing’ on his throbbing cock.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “You’re such a sweet guy. You’re always looking out for me.”

That's when I did it.

I delivered the friendliest, sweetest, lingering kiss to him, the one that a million women have used to thank a million sweet guys—lips pursed, cheeks sucked in, eyes closed.

Only I delivered this one to the head of his cock.

“Ah,” I sighed, snuggling up to him. “Goodnight, Leo.”

He must have been too stunned to speak, because he didn’t answer me. I resisted a second smile, instead rolling my head slightly and flicking my hair back onto his chest, placing my hand back across him.

Only this time, when I came to rest my hand, I placed it directly on his balls….

[As always, please let me know if you’d like to hear the rest because as much as writing it all out and reliving it turns me on, typing this stuff up is very time consuming, so It’s nice to know people wanna hear more!]

The room was small enough that you could hear everything and I mean everything.

That's the thing about a triple, one room, three beds, zero privacy, and at eighteen assigned to share that space with two people you have just met, you spend the first few weeks performing this elaborate fiction of total unawareness. Someone shifts in the dark and everyone goes still. Someone's breathing changes and two other people immediately pretend to be asleep. It is exhausting and it does not work and everyone knows it does not work and nobody says anything about it for weeks because what are you even supposed to say.

Mia said something about it.

One night, very casually, in the dark, she just put it out there. Something like we all know what's been happening in this room so can we please just agree that it's fine and move on with our lives. The relief of that sentence landing was enormous. We agreed. We moved on. The exhausting fiction was over and the real thing could start.

What none of us anticipated was the audience effect.

The first time one of us started while the other two were still awake and we'd all agreed it was fine so nobody left or turned over or pretended, I don't remember who started it but I remember the sound of it, the specific wet sounds in the quiet dark, and then the silence from the other two beds that was not silence at all, and within maybe four minutes all three of us were going and the room had an energy that I did not have words for at eighteen but I absolutely do now.

We started planning evenings. Candle, stayed in, couple of hours of everyone doing exactly what they wanted while the others watched or participated or commented, and the sounds in that room on those nights were something else entirely, the three of us breathing and moving and occasionally making sounds we stopped trying to muffle after the first time. Jess discovered she had opinions during these evenings, running commentary she gave without realising she was giving it, narrating out loud what was working for her, what angle, what speed, and the other two of us would try it and she was right every single time without exception which makes her either genuinely talented or an absolute menace and I have never fully decided which.

The nervousness of the early ones was its own thing. Lying three feet from people you care about in the dark, hearing every sound they make, knowing they can hear every sound you make, catching each other's eyes in the low light and not looking away, being completely seen and choosing to stay there anyway. We were wet and nervous and giggling sometimes and serious other times and it was the most comfortable I have ever felt with other people in my entire life.

Other girls joined sometimes. A few of their boyfriends too, which required a different kind of group agreement and a ten minute conversation that was genuinely one of the funnier moments of my freshman year, everyone very thoughtful and reasonable about a situation that was objectively unhinged, and those evenings had a different energy to them, louder, more hands involved, more sounds coming from more directions, and I will leave it there because some things are private even now.

We're in an apartment together this year, our own rooms, actual walls, more privacy than we've ever had. We still do it sometimes, the three of us, and when we do there's a warmth to it that I think is just what it feels like to be completely comfortable with people, fully seen and not performing anything and just existing together in a way most people never get.

The shenanigans that occasionally happen are not the point.

They're just the icing on the cake.

The smoke hit me first.

It rolled over the golden fields like a living thing, thick and black and tasting of ash and roasted grain. I had been turning the last of the season’s wheat with the pitchfork when the first scream cut through the afternoon. Not a single scream. A chorus. High and short and then gone, swallowed by the crackle of fire and the rhythmic thunder of boots.

I dropped the pitchfork. The wooden handle struck the packed earth with a dull sound that seemed too small for what was happening. My hands stayed open in the air for a second, empty, before I forced them down to my sides. The fields around my family’s old barn were already catching. Flames raced through the dry stalks in hungry orange ribbons, and the heat pressed against my face like a living hand.

They came through the smoke in a wedge.

Not dozens. Not hundreds. A small army, maybe forty or fifty women, moving with the cold precision of something that had done this a hundred times before. Their armor was a patchwork of leather, fur, and hammered iron, but every piece sat like it belonged. No clanking. No wasted motion. They flowed between the burning houses the way water finds the easiest path, and wherever they passed, men died.

I watched from the edge of my own field, half-hidden by the barn’s shadow, and understood very quickly that running was death and fighting was death. The ones who bolted were hunted. A woman would peel off from the main body, spear or axe in hand, and simply outpace the panicked farmer or the boy who thought the woods might save him. The kill was always clean. A single stroke. Sometimes the head left the shoulders. Sometimes the body folded around the blade like wet cloth. They did not gloat. They did not speak. They simply returned to the formation and kept moving.

The ones who fought lasted longer, but only by heartbeats.

Four of the village men—strong ones, men who had swung scythes and axes their whole lives—saw the two leaders at the front and decided that was their chance. I knew them. Tomas the cooper’s son. Old Mikael who still had most of his teeth. The twins who worked the mill. They charged with whatever they had: a wood-axe, a spear that had been a pitchfork an hour ago, a knife, a length of chain.

The shorter of the two leaders met them first.

She was blonde, long hair the color of new wheat bound back in a thick braid that still managed to whip when she moved. Her eyes were a furious, clear blue that seemed to catch the firelight and throw it back sharper. A single dark tattoo marked the inside of her left forearm—something angular and sharp, like a rune that had been cut rather than drawn. Her armor was mostly leather and fur, close-fitting, built for speed. The long sword in her hand was already wet.

She did not wait for them to reach her.

She stepped into the first swing, turned her shoulders, and the blade took Tomas across the throat so cleanly that his head stayed on for half a step before the blood came. It sprayed in a bright arc across the packed dirt. She was already past him. The second man—Mikael—tried to bring the wood-axe down. She caught the haft with her free hand, twisted, and drove the point of her sword up under his ribs. The sound was wet and soft. He folded around the steel, mouth open, and she shoved him off the blade with her boot without ever looking at his face.

The twins came together. One high, one low.

The taller woman was already moving.

She was immense. Not fat. Not soft. Built like something the mountain itself had decided to shape into a person. Shoulders that could have carried a yoke of oxen. Arms corded with muscle that shifted under patches of heavy iron plate connected by thick leather straps. Her brown hair was pulled into a single long braid that hung down her back like a rope. The circlet on her brow was iron or steel, simple, with small wings sweeping back from the temples. Her eyes were the opposite of the blonde’s—light golden brown, almost soft, almost kind—and that softness made the rest of her more terrifying.

She did not draw the battle-axe from her back. She simply lifted the round shield and drove forward.

The first twin hit the shield and bounced. The force of it knocked him three full steps backward into his brother. The brown-haired woman followed without pause. With one more massive shove of the shield both men were on the ground. The axe came free then, a single-handed swing that looked almost casual. The blade took the first twin across the collarbone and kept going. Bone and meat parted. Blood fountained. The second twin tried to rise and the shield edge came down on the side of his head with a sound like a melon dropped from a height. He stopped moving.

It was over before I finished blinking.

The blonde wiped her sword on a scrap of cloak that had belonged to one of the dead men. The brown-haired woman stood over the bodies for a moment, breathing steady, eyes already scanning for the next threat. I saw the way she angled her body—always slightly between the blonde and the rest of the village. Protecting. Claiming space.

They kept coming.

House after house. Field after field. The fire followed them like a second army. Smoke turned the sky the color of old bruises. I could smell blood now, thick and coppery, mixed with the sweet-sick scent of burning wheat and the sharper stink of men who had voided their bowels in the last second of life. Screams rose and were cut short. Sometimes there was only the wet chop of an axe or the meaty thud of a mace.

Every so often the leaders would stop.

A man would be standing still in the middle of the road or in the doorway of a half-burned house, hands empty, eyes wide, doing nothing. Not running. Not raising a weapon. The blonde would walk up to him, sword still drawn, and speak in a voice too low for me to hear. Sometimes the man would answer. Sometimes he would simply stare. Then the brown-haired woman would look him over the way a farrier looks at a horse—measuring bone and muscle and something deeper. Most of those men still died. A quick stroke across the throat or a thrust under the sternum. But twice I saw the brown-haired woman make a small, precise gesture with her left hand—two fingers drawn across her own collarbone, then pointed at the man. Other women from the army would move in, bind his wrists with leather thongs, and lead him away toward the rear of the column.

I recognized both of them.

The first was the smith’s apprentice. Short, almost squat, with forearms thick as oak roots and hands that looked like they had been shaped by the hammers he swung every day. The second was the traveling hunter who sold game between the villages. Lean, long-limbed, eyes that had seen a lot of different hunts, but none like this. He had chosen the wrong day to stop in our little valley.

They were led away without ceremony. The rest of the army kept killing.

I do not know how long I stood there. Time had become something thick and slow, measured only by the advance of the fire and the steady approach of the wedge. My family’s barn was the last structure at the edge of the village. Beyond it the fields stretched toward the river and the low hills. There was nowhere left to go that would not be seen. Nowhere left that would not end with a spear in my back.

They reached me when the sun was a red smear behind the smoke.

The blonde saw me first. Her blue eyes narrowed with something that looked almost like irritation. She stopped ten paces away, sword still loose in her hand, and the rest of the army halted behind her like a single creature.

“We have another one with enough intelligence not to run or fight,” she said. Her voice carried an edge, sharp as the blade she carried. “What’s your name, boy?”

I swallowed. The smoke had dried my throat to dust. I forced the word out anyway.

“Erik.”

She tilted her head. The braid shifted across her shoulder. “Do you know who we are, boy?”

I looked between them. The blonde with her raging blue eyes and the single dark mark on her arm. The brown-haired giant with the winged circlet and the soft eyes that did not belong on a body built for war. I had heard the stories. Everyone had. Whispered around fires after the children were asleep. Stories of the Sisters who came out of the northern passes when the harvests were good and the southern kingdoms were fat.

“I’ve heard rumors,” I said. My voice stayed steady only because I made it. “Are you the Sisters of Atherra?”

The brown-haired woman studied me. Her gaze moved from my face to my shoulders, my hands, the simple tunic and the dirt under my nails. She gave a single, slow nod.

The blonde scoffed. A short, sharp sound. “What gave us away?”

I chose each word carefully. Insulting them would be the last thing I ever did.

“I heard that you come to villages that feed your enemy kingdoms. You raid what you can. You burn the fields so the harvest never reaches their tables. You take any woman who wants to join or has the skills you need. And most men… most men don’t survive long enough to tell the tale of seeing you.”

The blonde’s mouth curved into a wicked little grin. There was no warmth in it. Only sharp amusement and something colder underneath.

“That’s right. Most men do something stupid. They run. They fight. They beg. And by our law we have to kill them.” She glanced back at the silent ranks of women behind her. “Somehow you’re still here.”

She raised her voice without turning fully away from me.

“Does anyone want to claim this farmer?”

Silence answered her. Boots shifted on the packed earth. Armor creaked. No one stepped forward. No one spoke.

I looked at the brown-haired woman. Something moved behind those soft light-brown eyes. Conflict. A flicker of something warmer than the fire around us. She did not look away from me.

The blonde’s grin faded. She turned back to me and raised her sword fully. The tip came up until it pointed at the hollow of my throat.

“Since no one claimed you,” she said, and the edge in her voice had become a blade of its own, “by our laws your life is forfeit.”

I did not close my eyes. I wanted to. Every part of me wanted to look away from the steel and the blue eyes and the certain death walking toward me. But I kept them open. The heat of the burning fields pressed against my back. The smell of blood and smoke filled my nose. My heart slammed against my ribs hard enough that I thought the blonde might hear it.

She took one step.

Then the brown-haired woman moved.

She stepped between us in a single stride that covered the distance like it cost her nothing. The shield came up, not raised in threat, but simply present—an iron wall between the sword and my chest. The blonde stopped so abruptly that the tip of her blade almost touched the rim of the shield.

For a moment no one breathed.

I watched the blonde’s face change. Confusion first—raw and open. Then something that looked like hurt, sharp and personal. And finally, pure, undiluted jealousy that burned hotter than the fields behind me. Her blue eyes locked on the taller woman and did not leave.

The brown-haired woman did not look at her. She looked at me. Then she raised her left hand and made the same precise gesture I had seen twice before—two fingers drawn slowly across her collarbone, then pointed at my chest.

Her voice, when it came, was low and steady and carried the weight of something older than either of them.

“By the law of my mothers,” she said, “I Freyja claim Erik as my candidate.”

It was her idea and I want that on record because when I try to explain this to myself in hindsight I need to be clear that I did not plan any of it.

The three of us had history. A few months back something had happened between us that went extremely well and left all three of us in this ongoing situation where the flirting never fully stopped and the texts kept coming and nobody was pretending they didn't want to do it again. The problem was distance, a whole province of it between her and us, and for a while that distance just sat there being inconvenient.

Then she suggested FaceTime.

I felt strange about it in a logistical way, unsure where to look or how it was supposed to work or what the rhythm of something like that even was. But we had already started by the time she called. He was behind me, deep and steady, both hands on my hips, and I was already far enough gone that thinking clearly was becoming optional, and then my phone lit up on the pillow in front of me with her name on the screen and I reached out and answered it without fully deciding to.

Her face appeared and she saw immediately what she had called into and her expression did something that went straight through me, this specific combination of wanting and satisfaction, and I heard him make a sound behind me when he saw her on the screen and felt him get harder inside me which was its own piece of information.

We looked at each other through the phone for a moment. Him still moving behind me, slow and deep, me trying to hold the camera steady and mostly failing.

Then she reached down and pulled her shirt off.

She has incredible tits and I am practically bi and both of those things are relevant here because the moment the shirt came off I made a sound I had not planned on making, something that came from somewhere involuntary, and he groaned behind me and his hips snapped forward harder and I grabbed the pillow and held on. She held the camera up and let us look and she was watching our faces while we did and the specific power of that, of her watching us want her, was not something I had any framework for.

Then she turned the camera down and showed us her pussy.

She was already wet, visibly, glistening when she spread herself open for the camera, and she started touching herself slowly, working her fingers in a way that was clearly calibrated to match the pace of what we were doing, and the sounds she made through the phone mixed with the wet sounds of him fucking me into the mattress and I was overwhelmed in every direction at once, too much sensation and too much to look at and his cock hitting something deep on every stroke and her sounds filling the room through the speaker.

He went harder. Both hands gripping my hips, pulling me back onto him, and I could hear her getting louder through the phone and then hear her try to pull it back, swallowing the sounds, and knowing she was doing that because someone was home and she had her AirPods in and couldn't let anyone hear her made it somehow hotter rather than less, this contained desperate energy coming through the screen.

I watched her face when she came.

Her hand came over her mouth and her back arched away from whatever she was lying against and her eyes went half closed and her whole body shook with the effort of staying quiet and I watched all of it and felt every second of it somewhere deep in my chest and lower and I came about thirty seconds after her, face in the pillow, completely feral, his cock buried all the way inside me while I clenched around him and he came shortly after with his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades and his hands still gripping my hips hard enough to leave something to remember.

The three of us stayed like that for a while. Her breathing through the phone. Us breathing into the room. The call still open, nobody saying anything that mattered.

She's single right now and she lives too far away and I would like both of those things to change as soon as possible.

We are doing this again.

Killian and I gave each other lots of flirty looks, when I would come work in the lab, that week following the first time we fucked. She'd told me we needed to be discrete about our hooking up, and so I tried to act like I did before we hooked up. There was one day, we were working in the lab, and there were other people in the lab. We kept giving each other flirty smiles, when no one was looking. She groped my ass, as she walked past me at one point, then looked back at me, giggling.

There was a small lab, off the main lab, that had no window on the door, because it was sometimes used as a dark room. I was in there doing some things for Killian, when she came in to see how I was doing. She moved up next to me, as I stood at the bench top, "How's it going, Sam?"

"It's going pretty well. I should finish this up in the next 15 mins or so."

"You're doing a good job, Sam," as she was inspecting my work. She smiled at me, and leaned in to kiss me. I turned, so we could kiss, but I was wearing latex gloves and could not touch her. So, we stood apart, kissing for a minute. It was like that for the rest of the week. We found private spots to hug and kiss each other. I was dying for more. That Friday, I happened to be walking through the parking lot to get back to my apartment, when Killian drove up next to me with her window down. She whistled at me, and I turned to see it was her.

I walked up to her car, "Hey Killian." I looked around to see no one seemed to around.

Killian was smiling up at me. She looked around nervously, then beckoned me to lean down, so we could kiss. She broke that off quickly. "Come in on Sunday, Sam?"

"Absolutely."

She giggled at my eager response.

"What about now? Take me home with you?"

Killian said, "That is sooo tempting Sam, but I have a thing tonight."

I eyed her suspiciously, "A thing with a guy? Like a date?"

"It's cute that you are jealous, but no, not a guy." She nervously hesitated, "You're the only guy, okay, Sam? I'd better be the only girl." She was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"You're the only girl."

"I have this lecture I have to attend and sort of work at it. A PhD is a lot of work, Sam. And, I don't have a ton of time for dating."

"yeah, I get that. I have band practice all day on Saturdays."

"That's okay, I have a lot of writing to do. Just come in Sunday," and she winked at me, before driving off.

I eagerly awaited going in on Sunday. Luckily, my Saturdays were always busy with band practice, so that helped me impatiently bide my time. When I went into the lab on Sunday, I heard Killian giggling. I was stunned looking at her, because she was just wearing some boots, a sexy black thong and a little top, that ended above her belly button. She was bright red, standing there. I moved towards her, and she giggled and ran away. I was chasing her through a couple of labs that were interconnected, before she stopped and turned to face me.

We grabbed each other and kissed, my hands wandering over her exposed ass cheeks. She pulled away, "We have work to do."

I gave her a pleading look.

"No, only if you do a good job."

Killian told me what to do that day, then said, "I will be at my desk analyzing some data, if you have any questions. Bring me your lab notebook, when you are done." I stared at her exposed ass, as she walked away.

She had a small cubicle in one of the big lab rooms, and she went there to do some work, sitting on her chair in her underwear. I started incubating something and set a timer, then wandered over to her desk, just staring at her, with a grin on my face. I could see one of her long legs from the side, as she sat in her chair, her leg exposed all the way up to her hip, with just that waist of the thong interrupting my view of her bare skin.

"Do you need something, Sam?", she turned to look at me, forcing herself to keep a serious expression.

"You look hot in your glasses." She only sometimes wore glasses, but she had that hot nerd look about her, when she wore them.

"Thank you, but did you have a question? I believe you have plenty of work to do." She was still forcing herself not to smile.

I had to think of a question, as an excuse for being there, so I made something up, "I'm supposed to pellet this in the centrifuge at 3000 rpms right?"

She gave me a little smile, knowing my ruse, "Yes, but you knew that. You've done it a bunch of times, and I know you're smart. It's also in the protocol I gave you and I know you can read..."

I was just grinning and looking up and down her body, but then my timer went off, "I just wanted to be very sure." I turned to leave her.

She walked through the lab a couple of times, definitely for the purpose of letting me see her ass in that thong. I was not discrete in my ogling and did not try to hide my muttering of, "Fuck me...so hot..." She would giggle and go back to her desk.

When I was done a couple of hours later, I walked back to her desk with my lab notebook. She stood, and said, "Sit down..." gesturing at her desk chair. I sat down in the swivel chair, and she stood in front of me, leaning on her desk and looking at my lab notes. I was staring at her crotch. I ran a hand up her inner thigh, then she pushed it away, and gave me a fake stern look, "Not yet, Sam." She continued reading my lab notebook, while I looked up and down her legs and crotch, up to her beautiful face. My dick swelled in my pants.

She finally closed my lab notebook and set it down on her desk, then said, "It looks like you did a good job today." I rolled the swivel chair closer and ran my hand up her inner thigh again, only this time she did not stop me, and I rubbed her pussy some through her underwear. I moved in even closer, so I could kiss her milky white thighs a bit, while touching her pussy. I heard her breathe in deeply, and I looked up at her smiling face. I kissed her crotch on the outside of her panties, my lips feeling her puffy labia through her underwear.

I slid the crotch out of the way, getting my first good look at her pussy, then moved to give it a little lick, tasting for the first time. She made a happy little cooing noise, encouraging me to continue. Her underwear was kind of in the way, so I started pulling it down and she was bright red, as she helped me get them off, over top of her boots. She was standing at her desk, naked from the waist down, and she was clearly nervous. We would hear someone coming in time. The only entrance was in the other room, and this lab had an ante chamber for positive air pressure. We would hear a door and then there was another door. She had a long lab coat she could throw on, hanging right there. Still, the risk was fun.

She had really dark bush that I liked. I liked how it looked against her pale skin. Just a neatly manicured bit of very dark bush between her legs. I kissed up near her prominent pelvic bones, then kissed right on her mons and in her bush. I moved lower to lick her clit a little and she whimpered. I encouraged her to slide up onto her desk, so I could have better access to her pussy. She put her feet up on the armrests of the swivel chair I was sitting in and spread her legs for me, with her bare butt on her desk. I'd wanted to do this to her for a long time, and I took my time, savoring her taste, enjoying getting her off, doing a good job.

I slid a finger inside her, while licking around her clit. I looked up at her and saw her biting her lip, then she threw back her head a bit in pleasure, before I looked back down, focusing on my work. Her legs bucked and she almost rolled me away, while I sucked on her clit. I could hear her breathing get more strained, and then she started panting a bit, as I continued licking her, lapping up her wet pussy. She made some high pitched whimpers and squeezed my face between her legs some, but I kept going. My cheeks were wet with her secretions, and I was making horny noises, while loving eating her out. I got her off repeatedly, then could not take it anymore.

I abruptly stood up, unzipping my jeans and shoving down my pants and underwear, my hard cock springing out. She panted out, "Yeah...", her brow furrowed a bit, while she stared down at my dick. I moved forward, sliding it into her easily, she was so wet. I had those long legs wrapped around me. I was holding them up a bit, by grabbing her thighs. We kissed each other aggressively while I fucked her on her desk. We were both making horny moans into each other's mouths, while kissing and fucking. As I got closer, I whispered in her ear, "Where should I cum?"

She whimpered a couple of times, and responded, "Cum inside in me..." My dick started twitching inside her and I shot cum deep inside her. Her legs squeezed me tighter and I felt her vagina grip my hard dick, while she whimpered out, "oh my god, Sam...fuck me..." I kept thrusting with her pussy extra slick with my cum. She started gently pushing me out of her, giggling a bit, as we both looked down to see my cum leaking out of her onto her desk. She hopped up and grabbed some tissues from a box on her desk, wiping between her legs and on her desk.

We stood kissing for a minute, my hands all over her bare ass, then stopped and got dressed again. She put a skirt on over top of her underwear now. We shut down the lab, and started walking out of the building, and I said, "What are you doing the rest of the day? Tonight?" It was still early afternoon.

Killian turned and smiled at me, "I have a lot of work to do. Just going to hole up in my apartment and write."

"I have a bunch of homework too." I was giving her a hopeful look, wanting an invite to stay over at her place.

Killian knew what I was hoping for and gave me a little grin, "Sam, I feel like you would be very distracting for me."

"You have to take some breaks while you are working...keeps the creative juices flowing."

She burst out giggling, "Sam, fine. Do you have your homework with you?"

"No, we could swing by my place?"

"Sam, I told you that we have to be discrete."

"You could just wait out in your car, and then I'll get my stuff?"

"Okay."

She looked nervous, parked outside my apartment building. I kissed her and said, "I'll be right back." I ran inside and grabbed some books, some clothes, and my toothbrush, then ran back to her car. "None of my housemates were home."

"Good." She kissed me on the lips, and then we started driving to her place. We got to her apartment building, which was an old brick building of garden style apartments. I was kind of nervously excited to be going into this grown woman's apartment.

She walked off towards her bedroom, "I'm going to go get changed." I wandered around her tiny apartment, looking at stuff. She came back out of her room, dressed in sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt. She looked kind of embarrassed, because maybe I was staring at her, "I told you that I need to write, so I am wearing comfortable clothes."

I walked up to her to hug and kiss her, "This outfit is hot."

She busted out laughing and gently pushed me away, "God you're horny." Then she wandered over to a table covered in journal articles, notebooks, books, etc, and sat down. I stood there looking at her. She gestured for me to go away, "I told you I have work to do."

"Fine." I grabbed my backpack, and pulled out some clothes to change into, because I didn't feel like wearing jeans around her apartment. I went into her bathroom, and changed into some sweatpants that I brought. I saw her look up at me with a grin, as I came back into the living room/dining room/kitchen area of her apartment. "Get back to work, Killian," and I grinned at her.

She just shook her head and buried her face in her work again. I sat on her couch and started doing my homework. I was mostly good, just working in silence, but occasionally she busted me looking at her.

Killian looked over at me from her table, "Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm just working, and I was staring off into space."

She gave me a little grin knowing that I was not staring off into space. I got back to work, and eventually, she got up to get some water from her kitchen. She stood in front of me, drinking her water, looking down at me. I pretended to ignore her, just looking at my text book.

She said, "Biochem?"

"Yep."

"I love biochem."

I laughed, "Me too. It's just like fun little math problems."

Killian set her water down on a side table, then grabbed my book away, setting on the couch next to me, so that she could straddle me, sitting in my lap. She kissed me, "So, you're a nerd, too?"

"Well, maybe not as big of a nerd as you..."

She made an exaggerated angry face and tickled me aggressively. She stopped and kissed me some more. I moved my hands up to feel her nice tits on the outside of the baggy shirt she was wearing, then moved down to her hips and finally put my hands in the back of her sweat pants. I could feel that she was wearing different underwear, "Hmmm...you're not wearing that thong anymore."

She stopped kissing me and laughed, "Yes, I changed."

I pulled on the front of her sweatpants to take a look at them. They were ordinary, grey, bikini cut panties. "These are hot."

Killian laughed, "These are like the most ordinary underwear ever."

"Take off your sweatpants. I want to see them."

Killian shook her head, laughing a little, as she stood up and then slid down her sweatpants, kicking them off. She turned around 360 degrees, and said, "See, just ordinary underwear."

I pushed down my sweatpants and underwear enough to show her my hard dick, "I like it."

She burst out laughing at my exposed erection. "You are so horny."

I twitched my dick around in response. Killian had a bemused look on her face, as she sank to her knees in front of me. I was breathing more rapidly just from the excitement that she was about to suck my dick, before she even put in her mouth. She pulled down on my sweatpants and underwear more, until she pulled them all the way off. Then she leaned in and grabbed my hard cock, giving it a couple of kisses, and then licking it. It went into her warm wet mouth and I moaned, "oh my god, Killian..." She giggled a little with it in her mouth, then pulled her mouth off, looking up at me and stroking it.

"I knew you would be a distraction," and then she put it back in her mouth. I gasped a bit at the pleasure she was giving me.

"Fuck that feels good." She was just bobbing her head up and down, taking in just a bit more than the tip on each downward movement.

Killian pulled her lips off with a slurping sound, then stood in front of me, taking off her panties. She climbed into my lap, straddling me, and then guiding my dick into her, slowing moving up and down on it, until she had the whole thing inside her wet pussy. She kissed me while riding it, then whispered in my ear, "You're a good distraction."

I moved my hands down to her bare ass cheeks, while she bounced on my hard dick. She sank all the way down and rocked her hips around with my dick all the way buried in her. She knew how to edge me and make it last. She was watching my face and my little whimpers, slowing and sometimes stopping her movements to stop me from cumming. She went back to bouncing on it in a regular rhythm and she was making some high pitched whimpers. "Fuck...Sam...oh my god..." She panted that out and I felt her pussy squeeze my dick. My dick twitched inside her, as I spurted cum. She leaned forward kissing me, and still slightly moving up and down on my dick, very slowly. I could feel the extra slippery feeling of my load inside her. She kept squeezing my softening dick with her pussy.

She gave me one more kiss, then slipped herself up off my cock. I made a disappointed groan, as my dick was out in the harsh cold world again, leaving her cozy warm pussy. She laughed at me, "I have to get back to work." I watched her bare ass, as she walked away to go use her bathroom. She put her clothes back on and I went to her bathroom to wash off my dick, then got dressed again.

We went back to working in silence and I saw that she had a really intense look on her face, as she read a journal article, then scribbled some notes. I could practically feel how smart she was just watching her work. I eventually finished most of my work, and went into her kitchen looking in her refrigerator.

I looked out over the counter into the living room/dining room area, "Soooo...I guess you just don't need to eat, Killian?"

She laughed, "There's food in there..."

"Oh yeah, so much food...there's let's see, some yogurt...a bottle of salad dressing...some expired milk..." She was red faced, embarrassed.

"I haven't had time to go shopping."

"I'm going to make you dinner."

"You can cook, Sam?"

"Oh yeah, I know how to make a few things. Give me your car keys and I'll go to the store."

She looked at me with raised eyebrows, as she handed me her car keys, "Be gentle with her. I can't afford to replace her."

"Of course."

"Oh, the only thing is that I don't have any money, Killian." I burst out giggling.

"Get my purse."

I handed her the purse, and she eyed me suspiciously, as she handed me her debit card, then told me her PIN. "Don't go crazy with that."

I bent down to kiss her, "I'm just going to get some stuff to make you dinner and some stuff for breakfast."

"Okay, thanks." She pulled me down for another kiss. "Get me some new milk, please? And some fruit."

I left her and went to the store, and bought stuff to make her a lasagna, so she would have some leftovers to eat too. When I got back to her apartment, I started to say, "I bought stuff to..."

She loudly shushed me, and waved her hand indicating I should go away. Killian was an intense girl and quite smart. When she focused on her work she did not like to be interrupted. It came off rude, but it did not really bother me. I just went into the kitchen and started working on dinner. Once, I had the lasagna in the oven, I was making a salad to go with it. Killian came into the kitchen, hugging me from behind, "I'm sorry for shushing you. I just was really forming an idea there." She kissed my cheek from behind.

"It's okay, I like seeing you work." I turned to kiss her some. She took a break for a bit, so we could eat dinner, then went back to work. She worked pretty late and I got tired. "Hey Killian, sorry to interrupt..."

"It's okay, what's up?"

"I'm getting kind of ready to go to bed."

"You can go get in my bed. I'm staying up working for a bit."

I came over to her to kiss her goodnight, then took a shower and got ready for bed. It felt kind of funny to go get in her bed, with her still out there working, but I fell asleep eventually.

I woke up in the morning, with her snuggled up to me and I had no idea when she came to bed. Her alarm went off soon after that, and after she turned it off, she smiled at me, and snuggled up to me more.

"When did you come to bed?" I was running my hand up and down her body, grabbing her ass.

"It was about 2am."

"Damn."

"I work really well late at night."

We kissed some and I put my hand up in her top to feel her bare tits. I started pulling up on the big t-shirt she wore to bed. "I've never seen your tits, but they seem like they'd be magnificent."

Killian laughed out loud and pulled off the shirt, exposing her beautiful bare breasts to me. Her natural tits were quite full, and really stood out on her thin frame.

I gently felt them, while looking at them, "I was right." I moved in to suck on one of her nipples. She giggled a little. She made some happy noises, as I slid my hand into the front of her underwear, touching her pussy some while sucking on her tit. I was sliding my fingers in out of her pussy, and I could feel her getting wetter. I kissed her neck some while fingering her, and then moving my slick fingers around her clit. One of her hands drifted down into my boxers, stroking my hard dick. She was kind of on her back, while I touched her, and she was having trouble keeping any kind of steady rhythm to stroking my dick.

I stopped touching her, and slipped off my boxers, throwing off the covers too. She lifted her hips to help me pull off her panties, as she laid on her back. She spread her legs for me to move into missionary, sliding my dick in her wet pussy. She wrapped her long thin legs around me and pulled me down to kiss, while I fucked her in missionary. We both made some little noises, as I slowly thrusted all the way in and out of her slick hole. We aggressively kissed each other, while I fucked her. I started fucking her faster and harder, no longer able to hold back and she whimpered out, "yeah, yeah, yeah..."

I groaned, "oh my god..." as I thrusted and shot cum inside her.

I felt her nails in my back a little, "oh fuck...Sam..." Her legs squeezed me tighter and her head rolled back a little. We kissed with my dick still in her, until she gently pushed me off. "I have to get ready to go into the lab."

"Yeah, I have a 9am class."

We took a shower together, and I stood behind her, feeling her nice soapy tits, while she washed her face and hair. My dick got hard again, from the nice feeling of her soapy ass in front of me. She turned around, rinsing her hair, and grinning down at my erection. She grabbed the soap, and soaped up my dick, then stroked it with her slippery fingers. She moved out of the way to rinse my hard dick in the shower, then she lowered herself to her knees in the shower.

She looked up at me and said, "I'm sorry for shushing you last night." Then she put it in her mouth. I just gasped, "Okay." She did not take her time. She was in a hurry. She gave me an aggressive blowjob, never taking her mouth off, and also using her hand at the same time. I kept moving up on my toes from the pleasure. She was in a hurry to get me off, so she could finish getting ready. She blew me so aggressively, I came pretty quickly even though we'd just fucked. She stood up with a grin, rinsed her mouth in the shower, then turned to hug and kiss me.

Killian stopped hugging me, then gently grabbed my semi hard dick, and wagged it, "Nice penis." Then she turned off the water and we both dried off.

We got dressed and then I made us some breakfast, while she did her hair and makeup. I packed her some lasagna for lunch too. I handed it to her, "So, you don't forget to eat lunch."

"Thanks."

She drove me the short drive to campus, "Which class do you have at 9?"

"Biochem."

It was in the same building as her lab. She laughed, "I'm really sorry, Sam, but I'm going to have to drop you off a few blocks away. It will be too obvious, if we pull into the Life Sciences building parking lot together."

She stopped the car, looked around nervously then kissed me. "Sorry, Sam."

"It's okay. I'm going to just think about that blowjob, while I'm walking." She lightly smacked my arm and giggled.

We actually arrived in the lobby about the same time, and pretended to greet each other, like we had not just spent the night together. We rode the elevator up together, giving each other some little glances, but trying not to be obvious since there were other people in there.

“Take this dick, you dirty filthy bitch,” Rohan growled down at me, both hands on the sides of my head as he fucked my throat, taut muscles straining for every single thrust, his abdomen glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

I gagged and gargled and stared up at him through watery eyes, loving every single second of him using me. My hand wandered between my thighs, and I found my swollen clit, dragging my fingers over it.

Fuck. Fuck! It felt so good. I had wanted this for so long.

Rohan Banks was my brother’s best friend from high school. It had been seven years since I had last seen him, and I had fawned over him endlessly, wishing that he’d just look my way twice. But it had never happened.

Not until last night.

With my hand still between my thighs, I rubbed my clit again and again and again. Fuck…

If I didn’t stop soon, I was going to make myself come first. And I wanted to impress him. I wanted to make him come, quickly too. I was going to leave a good first fuck impression on Mr. Banks. No matter what.

He growled above me, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, messier. “I’m going to use you for as long as I please, and there’s nothing you can do about it, Jennifer. You wanted to be little fuck toy. Well, here you go.”

His cum spilled down the back of my throat. I sucked as much of him as I could into my mouth and swallowed it over and over and over again until there was nothing left, building myself closer to the edge.

After a low grunt, he pulled out of me, his dick hitting his thigh. I gasped for air, and he snapped. Suddenly everything flashed black, and he was back inside my throat.

“Take this dick, you dirty filthy bitch,” Rohan growled down at me, both hands on the sides of my head as he fucked my throat, taut muscles straining for every single thrust, his abdomen glistening with a layer of sweat.

I gagged and gargled and stared up at him through watery eyes, loving every single second of him using me. My hand wandered between my thighs again, and I found my swollen clit, dragging my fingers over it.

Wait, wasn’t I just doing this? Why had I stopped? And how was he back inside me already? I thought it took a while for guys to get hard again. Maybe I was just that good. Maybe I really was leaving a good first impression.

With my hand still between my thighs, I rubbed my clit again and again and again. Somehow, I was even closer to the edge now, the pressure rising quickly inside me, my nipples aching. I sucked more of him into my mouth.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled, smacking my tits. “You dirty whore.”

I nodded, and he groaned, thrusting himself deep down my throat and coming. I sucked as much of him as I could into my mouth and tried swallowing over and over and over again, but it was getting harder to breathe.

Instead of pulling out of me, he stayed deep down my throat and snapped again.

After everything flashed back, he was pounding into my throat again.

“Take this dick, you dirty filthy bitch,” Rohan growled down at me, both hands on the sides of my head as he fucked my throat, taut muscles straining hard enough for me to see veins, his abdomen glistening with a thick layer of sweat.

I choked and gagged on him, his cum still in my mouth. How… When… What was going on?

My fingers found my clit again, and I teetered on the edge of an orgasm.

He slammed into me and came down my throat again.

Snap.

He slammed into me and came down my throat again.

Snap.

He slammed into me and came down my throat again.

Another snap, and there was so much cum in my throat that it was spilling out of my mouth and running down my chin, decorating my tits. He groaned and smacked my titties again, the cum rolling down them quicker than I could figure out what the fuck was going on.

Snap.

Come.

Snap.

Come.

Snap.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” he growled.

Come.

Snap.

He seized my nipples between his fingers and pulled hard on them, and I screamed out in pleasure, cum drooling from my mouth and pooling in the back of my throat, making me gag and gargle, and then?

He snapped again to start it all over.

Man, did he really mean it when he said that he was going to use me for as long as he pleased.

Author's Note: who doesn't love a good face-fucking time loop ;)))))) what did you think of this one? let me know in the comments!!

It started as a completely normal girls night.

That feels important to establish because nothing about how it ended was normal and I want it on record that I did not walk into my own apartment that evening with any kind of agenda. We had drinks, we had music, we had four of my closest friends on my couch and my boyfriend at the time in the armchair across from them and everything was fine and ordinary until the conversation went where conversations between girls drinking always eventually go.

Blowjobs. Specifically, who was actually good at giving them versus who just thought they were. It's an important distinction and one that groups of women take seriously when they feel safe enough to be honest about it, which we did, which this was.

My boyfriend decided to contribute.

He said, with his whole chest, in front of everyone, that maybe I wasn't quite as good as I seemed to think I was. He was smiling when he said it. He was clearly joking. He also said it out loud in a room full of my closest friends who immediately and with great enthusiasm decided that this required resolution.

They started. The chanting. You know the chanting.

I looked at him. He looked at me. He had the specific expression of a man who has said something he cannot take back and is watching the consequences arrive in real time and I felt completely calm because I already knew exactly what I was going to do.

I got off the couch and dropped to my knees in front of him and pulled his cock out before he had finished processing what was happening.

He looked down at me and his expression did something complicated, equal parts alarm and something considerably warmer than alarm, and I held his gaze for one second before I got him in my mouth. He was half hard when I started and I felt him get fully hard on my tongue, felt the specific moment his body caught up to the situation, and something about that particular sequence of events is its own kind of power that I will not be elaborating on further because some things I keep.

His hand came to the back of my head almost immediately. Instinct. No decision involved, just his hand finding my hair and pressing down gently and then less gently, and I let him push me further and took all of it, held it there until my eyes were watering and I was gagging around him and heard behind me four simultaneous sounds of absolute disbelief.

Here is the thing nobody tells you about being watched. It does something. To both of you. He was using my throat in a way he had never done before, something about the room and the audience and the specific charged energy of four people watching making him forget to be careful, and I was soaking wet, embarrassingly and completely soaking, which had nothing to do with him directly and everything to do with the feeling of being witnessed doing something you are genuinely exceptional at.

I could hear them behind me. Someone said oh my god very quietly. Someone else said she is NOT in a voice that suggested she very much was. My ex had both hands in my hair and was not being gentle and I was choking and my eyes were streaming and I was absolutely not stopping because I had a point to prove and I knew exactly when I had made it.

He lasted four minutes, which considering the circumstances I think is respectable, and came in my mouth and I took all of it and swallowed and looked up at him while I did and then turned around on my knees and looked at my girls.

Silence.

Not awkward silence. The specific silence of four people who have just witnessed something that has recalibrated their understanding of what is possible.

Then one of them started clapping. Slowly. Deliberately. And one by one the others joined until all four of them were giving me a standing ovation in my own living room and my ex was sitting in the armchair behind me looking like a man who had just had a religious experience and was also aware he owed someone an apology.

He apologized. Immediately, sincerely, without being asked. I accepted it with the grace of someone who had already won.

Nobody brought up the subject again. There was simply nothing left to discuss.

We broke up a while after for reasons that had nothing to do with any of this, but I think about that night sometimes when I need to feel good about myself, which works every single time.

I think enough time has passed that I can finally share this story. Names, locations, and a few identifying details have obviously been changed, but I’m going to tell it exactly the way I experienced it.

At the time, I—Brad—had been serving in the Army for just shy of twenty years. I’d made Sergeant First Class and was perfectly content with retiring at that rank. I’d accomplished most of what I wanted to accomplish, survived more than a few questionable decisions along the way, and had finally reached a point in my life where things felt settled.

A big part of that was Erica.

We hadn’t been together for decades or anything like that. I’d only met her a few years earlier, after getting stationed closer to home near a National Guard installation, but somehow we developed the kind of trust that I’d never experienced in any previous relationship.

I never checked her phone.

Never worried about who she was talking to.

Never wondered where her loyalties lay.

And Erica was just as open with me.

That honesty extended to our pasts too.

It was no secret that Erica had always had a weakness for men in uniform, which certainly hadn’t hurt my chances when we first met. Early in our relationship, she’d told me stories about her younger years—including more than a few questionable late-night
adventures involving Soldiers passing through the nearby installation.

Some of those stories probably would have made other husbands uncomfortable.

For whatever reason, they never bothered me. If anything, I found them fascinating.Over time, that openness allowed us to become more adventurous
together than I had ever been in a previous relationship. Erica loved attention. She loved knowing men noticed her. And, to my surprise, I discovered that I enjoyed knowing they noticed her too.

There was a difference, though.

They could look.

She was still coming home with me.

That was how I saw it.

Then I got orders back to Europe.

Erica had a major say in where we tried to go, and when Italy became an option, she didn't need much convincing. Not long after we arrived, I found out that an old buddy of mine named Mateo Rojas was getting stationed in the same area. Mateo and I went way back.
We’d deployed to Afghanistan together years earlier, and we'd experienced the kind of things that tend to permanently bond
people. We’d also done our fair share of celebrating once we got home—bars, cookouts beside the barracks, questionable pregame decisions, and plenty of nights that ended much later than originally planned.

By the time Mateo was coming to Italy, he was in his mid-forties, a little older than Erica and me, and his career had gone farther than mine. He was about to put on the diamond and become the First Sergeant of an airborne infantry company.

I was genuinely excited to have him nearby again.
Before he arrived, I showed Erica some old pictures of us.

Afghanistan photos.

Pictures from cookouts.

Group shots from nights out.

She listened to stories about things Mateo and I had done years before, occasionally shaking her head at how stupid we'd apparently been.Then she made a comment that caught my attention.

“Wow. I didn’t know you actually had an attractive friend.”

That was a running joke between us.

Erica had always claimed that I somehow managed to be the most attractive guy in every group of friends I'd ever had.

Normally she'd dismiss my buddies immediately.

Mateo was different.

I could hear it in her voice.

She legitimately thought he was attractive.

And it didn't bother me in the slightest.

If anything, I found it amusing.

Our trust was so strong at that point that there simply wasn't room in my head for jealousy.

When Mateo finally arrived, he knocked on our front door and I opened it to see essentially the same guy I remembered, just older, broader, and clearly taking his role as an infantry First Sergeant seriously.

Erica came up beside me to introduce herself.

I still remember her expression when she shook his hand.

Her eyes widened just slightly.

Not enough that Mateo necessarily would have noticed.

But I did.

Mateo had always been confident without needing to announce it.

He wasn't one of those guys who walked into a room desperately trying to be the center of attention. He didn't have to.

He shook Erica's hand, smiled, and spoke to her exactly the same way he would have spoken to anyone else.

If anything, I think that made her more curious.

We showed him around the house.Erica was wearing one of her favorite loose green summer dresses. She'd never exactly been shy about her body and enjoyed
the occasional second glance from strangers.

At one point we headed downstairs toward our second living room. Erica stopped halfway there.

“Wait. I forgot something.”

She disappeared upstairs and returned a minute later carrying a folded blanket.
I was standing beside Mateo at the bottom of the stairs when she came back down.

Something about the way she descended caught my attention.

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe I was projecting because she'd already admitted she thought Mateo was attractive.

But she suddenly seemed very aware that both of us were watching her.

And when she reached the bottom, there was a tiny smile on her face.

A knowing one.

At the time, I dismissed it.

Erica liked attention.

That wasn't new.

Months later, she would admit there had been a little more intention behind that walk down the stairs than I realized.

But I didn't know that yet.

We eventually showed Mateo the guest room where he'd be staying for a couple of weeks while his household goods arrived and his lease went through.

At the time, having one of my oldest Army friends staying under our roof seemed perfect.I had absolutely no idea how important those next few weeks were
going to become.

That night, after we'd gone upstairs and Mateo had settled into the guest room a couple floors below us,

Erica and I were lying together talking.

One thing led to another, and the conversation eventually drifted back toward Mateo.

I teased her about the staircase.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you came down those stairs like that because you knew I was watching.”

She smiled.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

I laughed.

Then, mostly joking, I added:

“Or because you knew we were watching.”

That changed something.

Only for a second.

But I noticed it.

A pause.

A different smile.

The kind Erica got when I'd accidentally touched on something she wasn't ready to admit.

She immediately played coy.

“I don't know what you're talking about, baby.”

I let it go.

At the time I honestly thought it was nothing more than Erica enjoying the idea that another attractive man had noticed her.

That was normal for us.At least, I thought it was.

The next morning Erica made coffee and pancakes before I headed into work.

Mateo was technically still on leave, so he didn't have anywhere he needed to be yet.

Which meant the two of them spent most of the morning at the house together.

Apparently they played Battlefield for a while, talked, and generally got to know each other.

They met me at the gym around lunch.

That was when I noticed it again.

Erica's eyes wandering toward him.

Her smile getting noticeably bigger whenever Mateo walked over.

The way she seemed just slightly more animated when he was talking to her.

Almost like she wanted his attention.

Again, I wasn't worried.

My wife was beautiful. She turned heads almost everywhere we went, and I'd always enjoyed it.

There was something strangely validating about seeing another man look at her and knowing she was mine.

And Mateo was my friend.

Someone I'd trusted with far more serious things than my marriage.

So when my phone buzzed later that afternoon with a last-minute notification from work, I didn't think twice about what it meant.

I'd somehow missed that I was scheduled for overnight duty.I called Erica and told her I'd still be home for dinner, but afterward I'd have to head back to work and wouldn't be home until around 0600 the following morning.

She complained a little.

I complained a lot.

Then we hung up.

At no point did it occur to me that I had just told my wife that I would be gone all night.

With Mateo staying in the house.

The same Mateo I'd caught her watching at the gym.

The same Mateo she'd admitted she found attractive.

And the same Mateo she'd deliberately shown off for less than twenty-four hours earlier.
At the time, none of those things seemed connected.

Looking back, they obviously were

Sunday morning at her house.

She’d sent a text that morning with bare legs on a deck chair, sunglasses too big for her face, and the text:  “Wish you were here 🩵”

I stared at it from her bed.

Her sheets.

Wearing her tank top.

His cum still drying on my thigh.

It had been quiet all morning.

He’d made coffee in just his boxers. I’d followed him around like a shadow. He touched me constantly. Couldn’t help it. Brushed my ass when I passed. Squeezed my tits while I leaned into the fridge. Bit my neck while I tried to pour creamer.

We didn’t talk about her.

We never really did.

But we both knew we were playing with fire.

And that made it so much better.

Around 10AM, her name lit up his phone.

“Can we call?”

I looked up at him. He was already watching me.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, low, lazy.

He nodded.

And pulled the blanket up over my lap to hide how wet I already was.

“I miss you,” she pouted.

She was talking, but he wasn’t hearing her.

Because under the blanket, his hand was already sliding between my legs.

I widened them instinctively, biting the inside of my cheek while she rambled about her sister being late and how the Airbnb smelled like lavender.

His fingers dipped into my folds, already soaked. He smirked without even looking at me, just dragging them through my slit... slow and deliberate before pressing two fingers inside.

My legs jerked.

He curled his fingers.

I moaned.

Barely. A soft breath through my nose. But she heard it.

“Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks flushing. “Mm-hmm. Just missing you.”

He leaned closer, his lips and tongue on the side of my neck.

“Put the phone on the pillow,” I whispered.

He did.

She was still talking.

Still completely unaware.

He moved between my legs like it was his right.

Blanket half-draped over us. Me biting my lip. The call still active.

She was laughing about something now. Her sister, maybe. I couldn’t focus.

Because he was spreading me open.

And then I felt it.

The blunt heat of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I whimpered.

“Shh,” he whispered. “She’s right there.”

And then he pushed in.

It took everything in me not to scream.

He was so deep so fast... stretching me open under the blanket, under the screen, under her.

I gripped the mattress.

The phone was still on.

Her voice still floating from the speaker.

He started fucking me.

Slow, long strokes. The kind that made your whole body tighten just waiting for more.

My pussy was drenched. Slick. No resistance. He was gliding in and out of me like we were made for this.

Her voice kept going.

“I wish you could see the view,” she said. “I’ll show you later.”

He nodded dumbly and managed to say something barely audible in response.

My mouth fell open.

He thrusted deeper.

I bit the pillow.

She paused. “You’re really quiet.”

He tried to answer, but his breath caught.

Because he slammed into me hard.

I gasped.

He scrambled for composure. “Y-yeah. Sorry. Just… headache.”

He laughed against my neck.

She frowned, “Should I let you go?”

I shook my head.

“No,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “Stay on.”

(To be continued…)