Alex and Laney had been together for a few years, a bit over two of them. They were pretty serious about one another, but had been having some behind closed doors problems the last couple of weeks. Wanting to turn things around, they went out to her family vacation house by the beach to reset their minds. 

It was a quiet, wealthy little community. Laneys parents had their house about 100 yards off the water, and a few of her family members had places scattered around the island as well. Her friend that had become her unofficial sister, Maya, had always been a beach girl, to the point where Maya moved out here and was left in charge of the house, but had to find a local job to at least pay for her own groceries and a few other basic things. 

Maya was at work when Laney and Alex got into town, and joined them down at the beach for a bit before the three of them went out to dinner. It was a pretty standard beach area restaurant. Food wasn’t Michelin quality, but it was good enough and importantly, reasonably priced and since it was the off season, the bartender with the heavy pour was there. 

The rest of the night was relatively relaxing. They went home and had a little fire on the patio as they caught up for about an hour or so. It was about midnight by the time Alex decided to turn in and was walking out of the bathroom after a shower when Laney came in. 

“She seems to be doing alright.” He said casually. 

“She’s so lost.” Laney said, starting to get undressed. 

Alex leaned against the doorframe, admiring the view. Laney was a bit, soft, physically. Not overweight or chubby, but just a little something. Her thighs were soft and round, her ass was (thankfully) naturally kind of big, and he loved the way her tits would hang when she rode him or sat on his face. 

Laney was bent over, naked, rummaging through her bag when Alex came up behind her, pressing his cock into her ass without entering her. 

“I found where I’m supposed to be.” He said, putting his hands on her hips. He was more sexual and had a higher libido than she did, but she usually didn’t mind it. 

“Oh, gosh,” she sighed and giggled, “that was corny.” She wiggled her ass against his cock then turned around, taking it in her hand and stroking it as she looked up at him. “If we weren’t on vacation, I don’t know if I’d let you get away with it.”

“What else are you gonna let me get away with?” He asked, putting his hands on her shoulders and kissing her as he hardened in her hand. 

She gave his balls a soft squeeze as she got on her knees. “You tell me.” She looked up at him, licked along his shaft, then took him into her mouth. 

She started slow and tantalizing, progressing to gagging on his large member. Her fingers wet from entering herself as she was down on her knees. 

She stood up and walked him over to the bed, where she fell onto the soft blankets on her back, but Alex rolled her over. Her feet were still on the floor as Alex got down on his own knees, pulled her legs and ass apart, and buried his face in her pussy, going between that and her asshole. 

“Get in me,” she said as her legs had started to shake. 

He obliged, lining up his dick and entering her soft, warm, comfortable pussy. He began thrusting from behind, pushing her legs further apart to get in deeper. She gripped the blanket as she was getting rocked by his cock, moaning into the comforter. 

Alex felt her pussy start to clench up around him and slapped her ass a few times, which, with the right timing, could be what sent her into orgasm. And it did. He slowed his thrusting as she shook and whimpered his name. 

She crawled off his cock and turned around to lay on her back, spreading her legs as far as she could. “Your turn, big boy.” She cooed. 

Laney liked to have her clit sparked and that’s what he did, using his heavy cock to do so. Her eyes were closed as she fell into the sensation, giving a deep grunt as he slid himself into her pussy. 

He began sliding himself in and out, her whining and moaning for more of him. He leaned down and started sucking on her slightly sun-kissed breasts as her legs wrapped around him. He rose from her breasts to her neck, kissing it as her legs wrapped around him. 

“I love you,” he said. “I love your pussy,” 

Her arms draped around his neck, biting her lip. 

“I know,” she said softly. “I love you, too. And your dick.” She said, clenching around him. 

The two of them rolled on their side, her moans the only thing he could hear. His grunts the only thing she could hear. 

“Finish me.” She whispered desperately into his ear. 

He didn’t say a word as he rolled her onto her back, got into prime position, and started giving it all he had. The two tried to stay quiet out of respect for Maya, though her room wasn’t close enough for her to hear easily, but she could have been elsewhere. 

And she was. 

“Fuck,” she heard from the other side of the door. “Fuck my little pussy. It’s yours.” 

Maya quietly opened the door, letting her curiosity get the better of her. Alex was sort of facing her as her friend was getting split in half. Maya started getting wet when she saw Alex spit on Laneys clit and start slapping it. 

Laneys hips began to roll and she held her tits firm as he rapidly fucked and slapped her clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Laney said, each one more emphatic than the last. “God, I’m cumming.” And she did. Her legs twitched, her hips rolled, and even though Maya couldn’t tell, her friend started creaming on his cock. 

“Your turn,” Laney whined out. She pulled his cock from her pussy, and started rapidly stroking it. 

Maya audibly gasped when she saw the size of his cock, but turned to make sure she wasn’t seen. They didn’t even notice, and when she peaked around the corner, she saw him shoot ropes of cum, getting it from her face, down her tits, and puddling up on her tummy. 

Laney slowed her hand down before speeding it back up, milking his impressive cock dry. That’s when Maya turned to slip out, totally forgetting why she went to check on them in the first place. 

Maya went back to her room and tried to distract herself. She wasn’t thinking about her friend, obviously, but about Alex. She didn’t know how big he was, why would she? And it was a cock that he seemed to not brag about, not having “big dick energy.” 

Maya started doomscrolling on her phone in her pajamas, soft shorts and a loose tank top, but couldn’t shake the feeling she had between her legs. 

“Fuck this,” she said, reaching for a nearby drawer and grabbing a vibrating dildo from it. Not nearly as big as Alex was, but it more than did the trick. She turned it on, letting it vibrate against her pussy as she slid her shorts to the side and started fucking herself with it. 

It was more of a perfunctory masturbation than a desperate or needed one, so she didn’t go crazy or turn into a fountain. After she came, her legs tightening around her hand, she rolled out of bed and cleaned off the dildo before returning it to the hiding spot. 

As Laney was soft, Maya was fit. About the same height, her tits were smaller but firmer, her thighs were strong, and her ass was high and tight. 

The next morning as she was watching TV on the couch, she heard Alex walking down the hall and pulled up her shorts a bit. 

“Morning,” he said, to which she returned the same words. 

He sat down on the couch next to her, one arm up on the back of it. “Any ideas for today?” He asked. 

“I took the week off, so it’s totally up to you two.” Maya said, looking over at him. She’d never seen him sexually, like she did last night, and was pleasantly surprised she didn’t get all school girl flirty around him, which tended to be the next step in the desiring process for her. 

“Laneys probably going to want to sit on the beach all day.” Alex said. 

“That can be arranged.” Maya said. 

And that’s exactly what happened. The three of them packed up for the day and spent the better part of seven hours out on the sand and water. 

Alex liked to cook and Maya could hold her own in the kitchen, but Laney was one of those people who could manage to burn a bowl of cereal. 

After dinner, the three of them went out and made another fire, stargazing and having a blast, passing around a medium quality bottle of flavored vodka. 

Laney was going the hardest, holding onto the bottle for longer than either Maya or Alex did combined. 

The girls were still in their bikinis, and Alex in his trunks. Laneys was yellow and had a bit more coverage, but Mayas was a darker blue, and covered remarkably less. Laney went inside to use the restroom and Maya took the opportunity to “adjust” her bottoms, flashing her pussy at Alex. 

He absolutely saw, and didn’t hide the fact he did, but neither said a word and they continued to talk as if it never happened. 

A few minutes more had passed, and Laney should have been back by now. “Maybe I need to go check on her,” Alex said. “I’ll be right back.” 

As he walked to check in on Laney, he kept replaying the flash in his mind. 

Laney had gone into the bedroom and in her bikini, had fallen asleep across the bed. “Ok then.”

Alex woke her up and tried to get her into her pajamas. It was a bit of a challenge, as this girl was good and gone off the white girl vodka. 

“Fuck me,” she said, slurring her words. “Put a goddamn baby in me already.” She said, trying to take her pants off. 

“Maybe later, babe.” Alex said. He’d been through this a few times before. “You’re way too drunk right now, and you want to remember the moment, wouldn’t you?”

Laney whined and nodded. “Yes baby.” 

“Get some rest babe.” Alex said, turning off the light. Laney was asleep before Alex got back outside. 

“Oh.” He said when seeing Maya. 

She’d taken her bikini off and was sitting in the chair he’d left. “Sorry,” he said, apologizing. 

“Why?” Maya said. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Hey! Nuh uh. Get back over here.” 

Alex had turned to go back inside, but Maya threw a marshmallow at him. 

Alex went and found a chair, sitting on it, trying not to look at her. 

“This is weird.” He said, breaking the awkward silence. 

“Yeah because Im the only one naked.” She got up and walked over, sitting across his lap. 

“Oh, I don’t-“ he started.

“Pipe down,” she said, putting his face to her breast. She wasn’t surprised at his lack of pushback, nor the fact he started to gently kiss her breast. 

She undid his trunks and yanked his cock out, starting to stroke it. “Guys are so easy.” 

She got him fully erect, but he again, started to object. 

“We shouldn’t-“ he started. 

“If you say another lie, I’ll have to smother you with my pussy to get you to shut the fuck up.” She said in a harsh, but sultry tone with a devilish smile on her face. 

“You had a secret my little pony collection, didn’t you?” He said. 

It was well known that for whatever reason, Maya had a strong dislike for the brand. 

“Ok, that’s it.” She stood up and grabbed Alex by the cock, pulling him down to the ground, where she put her pussy in his face, exactly as they both wanted. 

She wiggled into place as he immediately started to ravish her pussy, her hand going undeniably fast up and down his cock. 

While Laney could cum once or twice and that would be all, once Maya got going, she didn’t bother to keep track. 

“Oh fuck, you’re trying to make me squirt on your cute little face, aren’t you?” She asked, knowing his response would be concealed by her tight, sloppy pussy. 

She bounced and ground her pussy against his desperate mouth, hovering over him. 

All he could see was her tight pussy gushing squirt directly into his face and mouth, and there was nowhere he’d rather be. 

“You fuckin freak!” She said, her legs shaking as she rose. “You don’t get to be a freak with Laney, I know.” She squatted over his cock and lowered herself onto it. 

“Oh fuck that’s right,” she moaned, sliding up and down it, moving her hips in a circle as the flickers of the flames reflected off the squirt still on his face. 

She leaned down and licked her mess off of him before bouncing on it hard and fast. 

“God, your dick is too good for just her.” She said, holding his face by his jaw. “You want someone to fuck you like this, not some pillow princess, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he weakly moaned out. “How’d you know?”

“She told me. You really tried to call her mommy?” She asked, chuckling. “That’s foolish.”

“I’ll be your mean mommy,” Maya moaned, “you like the way mean mommy rides your big dick, don’t you?” She said. 

Alex nodded. 

“Say it.”

“I like the way you ride my cock.” 

“All of it. Say it all.”

“I like the way you ride my cock, mommy.”

“Mmm, good boy. Do you like making mommy squirt?” She asked, rubbing her clit as she leaned back riding him. 

“I do mommy.” 

“Say it all.”

“I like it when mommy squirts on me.” 

Maya slightly rose up off his cock and squirted on it and his abdomen before lowering herself back onto him. 

“Only good boys get mommy’s squirt. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” She said, her hands on his chest. 

He nodded. 

“Then fuckin say it!” She shouted. 

“I’m your good boy, I want all your squirt messes.” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he felt another small gush of squirt, it starting to roll down his sides. 

She continued to ride him rapidly, leaning down into his ear and kissing it. “You didn’t even fight back. How cute.” 

“I need to cum,” he weakly said. 

“No the fuck you don’t.” She said. “Not yet.” She went to get up, but did so the long way by dragging her pussy from his cock to his face and standing up. “Follow me.” 

He tried getting up, knocking one of the chairs over as he did, following her inside to her bedroom. 

When he got there, he found her on the edge of the bed, legs spread far apart. 

“Get your dick in here!” She said impatiently. 

He instinctually slapped his cock on her clit a few times and she moaned. “Oh, I like that,” she said. “Do it again.”

He did, a few times. “Don’t stop.” She said, putting two fingers in her pussy, fucking herself with them as she squirted again. 

As she was mid gush, he shoved his cock inside of her to a loud yell from her. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” she said, her body trying to squirm away as he held her legs in place. 

“Oh? Can’t have the roles reversed now, can you?” He slapped her clit with his hand a few times and her whimpers turned to cries. 

“I can’t cum againnnnnn.” She said, as she did exactly that. 

He let her crawl back up the bed as she covered her pussy with her hands, panting. “Give me a second.”

And he did, getting up on the bed and pushing his cock into her mouth. 

“While one hole recovers, I’ll wear another one out,” he said as he began to skulk fuck her, her eyes watering as she choked on his cock. Her hands held onto his legs as she let him have his way with her face. 

He felt her fingers creep up to his ass, dangerously close to his asshole. 

“No, no, no, no.” He said, stepping off the bed and pulling her down by her legs. “Nobody goes in there.” 

“Then get in mine.” She said, turning over and spreading her cheeks. 

“If you insist.” He forced his cock into her ass, more quickly and roughly than he probably should have, and started slapping her ass as he widened out her asshole. He put his hand under her pussy and let the force of his thrusts be what brushed her clit against his hand. Her legs curled back and her toes cracked as she started whimpering into the sheets. 

Not one minute later, Maya started squirting again. 

“My god, you’re a fountain.” He said, withdrawing from her asshole and turning her over. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he said, slamming his dick in her, “like the proper whore you are.” 

Her body went momentarily limp as he refused to give her pussy any refuge. 

“I’m gonna-“ she started. 

“No you’re not.” He interrupted, putting his fingers in her mouth, closing around them. 

“We’re coming together.” He said. “I’m gonna cum on you, you’re cumming on me, deal?” 

She pitifully nodded as the two stared into one another’s eyes, the overwhelming sense of remarkable, draining orgasms knocking on the door. Luckily it wasn’t Laney. 

“5…” he started, “4……….3…..2…” 

But just before he could pull out, Maya wrapped her muscular legs around Alex and pulled him down on top of her, holding him down.

“Cum in mommy,” she said as she squirted on his cock stuffed inside her. 

All of the strength he came in the room with melted in mere seconds. His grunts of machismo turned to whimpers of obedience as they both uncontrollably came. 

The intensity of the mutual orgasm prolonged it for them both. 

Alex slowed down, laying his full weight on her as he caught his breath. 

“Good boy,” she cooed into his ear, stroking his hair. “You did so good.” She said softly. 

He was still as hard as ever inside her overfilled pussy that was leaking down her ass and into the sheets. 

Her legs fell away from him and he was free to pull out, but he didn’t. 

He began thrusting again, initially slow, but it turned desperate fast. 

“Good fuckin boy!” She exclaimed, sitting up to watch his needy cock glide in and out of her. 

“Keep calling me that.” He begged. 

“What? Good boy? You are one. A good boy who can fuck like a pro. But you’re not my good boy, so make it count.” 

She thought she was done, but felt another one building. 

“I’m gonna cum again,” she said, clenching her body. 

“Cum for me mommy.” Alex plead, patting her overly sensitive clit again. 

While she had nothing left to squirt, she certainly had a powerful orgasm once more. 

He fell atop her again, his arms scooping under her ass as she hugged him. 

“Cum in mean mommy’s pussy again, baby.” 

While he didn’t produce nearly as much cum this time, the physical reaction he had to it was much more severe. 

The two laid there, panting and despite the cum in her pussy, the two of them were drained. 

“I should get back,” he said, pulling his cock from her pussy as they both briefly let out a moan. 

Alex looked at the cum flowing from her pussy and gently started rubbing it, but had his hand swatted away. 

“Don’t even fuckin think about it, mister.” 

“No, I wasn’t. Just admiring it.” 

Maya sat up. 

“Let’s not-“ and froze. 

Alex looked at her. Her face and gone ghostly white. Her jaw slightly open. 

“Huh?” He said, noticing her. Her turned to see what had caught her eye. “Fuck.” He said. 

“How?” Said Laney. “You both look exhausted, didn’t leave any for me.” 

Maya and Alex both tried to speak, but word salad was all they got out. 

“Calm down, calm down.” Laney said, leaning against the door. “That was really fucking hot.”

“How long have you been there for?” Alex asked. 

“About when you started fucking her face. I’m shocked I’m not mad, but I couldn’t stop watching.”

Laney was still in her shirt, but had stepped out of her pants as she sat on the bed. 

“I think the first step to making this up to me,” she said, opening her legs for her boyfriend to see her already wet pussy, “is to at least eat the pussy you just cheated on.” 

Alex and Maya looked at each other, but Laney snapped her fingers a few times. 

“No, no, no.” She began. “Mean mommy already got worked, I need a little something.” She spread her pussy lips. “Get to it, my good boy.”

“Oh shit.” Alex said with a disbelieving chuckle. 

As Alex begun to go to work, Maya tried to get up, but Laney put her hand on her arm. 

“No. Stay.” Her hand went to hold Mayas. “I want something new. I want this.” Laney confessed. 

“I didn’t know it, fuck, but I do.” 

As Alex licked and brought Laney to orgasm, Laney and Maya shared their first kiss. 

Then Alex came up to kiss Laney. Then he kissed Maya. Then Maya kissed Laney. And the three swapped lips for a bit as Laney cooled down. 

“Now what?” Laney asked. 

“Well,” Alex began. “Our bed doesn’t have cum soaked sheets on it.” He reached over and gave Mayas pussy a few pats that made her moan, but he didn’t persist, just wanted to mess with her. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and join us.” 

Laney and Alex went back to their bedroom and when Maya was showered, she came into the bedroom naked, saying sheepishly, “I like to sleep naked.”

“Of course you do.” Alex said. He was in the middle of the bed, with Laney curled up on one side of him, just enough space for Maya on the other side. 

Alex laid awake, the only light coming from the full moon high in the sky. The two women fell asleep as he watched them before closing his eyes, saying quietly. 

“Best. Vacation. Ever.”

The room was on the Upper East Side, about a fifteen-minute walk from Hunter.

That was the important part.

If I lived here, I could actually go to campus every day. No excuses about the train. No deciding that forty minutes each way wasn't worth it for one lecture. I could leave home at eight forty and still make a nine o'clock class.

The room itself was about the same size as the one I had now. I'd be sharing with five other people, all students, which was apparently a requirement for renting it.

Six people sounded like a lot.

Then again, three had somehow been complicated enough.

The building was six stories of dark red brick, with a black fire escape running down the front and enough window air conditioners to make the whole thing look slightly improvised.

The entrance sat three steps above the sidewalk beneath a stone arch that had probably looked impressive when it was built. Now it mostly made the building look old.

I could see myself living here.

The front door was propped open, so I went inside and climbed to the second floor.

Apartment 203 had enough names beside the doorbell that I had to check the number again.

Five names.

Right.

I was supposed to meet someone named Ethan.

I knocked.

A tan guy with dark hair opened the door. T-shirt, pants, sandals. He looked about my age.

“Hi. I'm Lillian. I'm here to see the room?”

“Ah, sure. Come in.”

He stepped aside, then turned toward the hallway.

“Ethan! Someone's here about the room.”

A Black man's head appeared around one of the doorways.

He looked at me and smiled.

Ethan came the rest of the way out of the room. He was wearing a shirt, pants, and a pair of very nice-looking sneakers. His hair was cropped short, and when he shook my hand, I caught the smell of vanilla.

His handshake was warm.

“Lillian. Perfect timing. Let me show you the room.”

He led me farther down the hallway and stopped at an open door.

The room was empty. Four walls, a window, and, somewhat unexpectedly, a small sink in one corner.

“Every room has its own sink. Bathrooms and showers are shared. We've got three toilets and two showers, and the hot water is tankless, so you don't have to worry about being last and getting a cold shower.”

He said that with the enthusiasm of someone who had apparently experienced the alternative.

“My mom had the place forever, and I took over the lease. Rent's stupid cheap by Manhattan standards, so we just split it. It's twelve hundred a month, paid on the fifteenth. Does that work for you?”

Six hundred dollars less than I was paying now.

“Yes.”

“Oh, and you're a student, right? We only accept students.”

“Registered and everything.”

I pulled my student ID from my wallet and handed it to him.

“Nice. So based on what you said in the email, you can move in on the first?”

“Yes. I'm paid up through November fifteenth at my other place, so unless I can get some of that back, this is going to be a little expensive. But I think it'll be worth it.”

“Cool. You need any help moving?”

“Thanks, but I'll hire people. Most of my stuff is going into storage. I'll bring the necessities, but not much else.”

He nodded.

“Okay then. Shake on it, and I'll see you next Thursday?”

That was apparently all it took.

I smiled and held out my hand.

“See you Thursday.”

The moving company had dropped off boxes yesterday, and I'd given myself the day to pack before they came at five to pick everything up.

Everything in the living room was going into storage.

Everything in my room was going to the new place.

Simple enough.

I was about halfway done when I heard the front door unlock.

Could it be Dan? He should be at work.

I went into the hallway and found Mia standing there with bubble tea and a bag that looked like it had food in it.

Crud.

This was not how this was supposed to happen.

Okay. Smile. There was no reason this had to be awful.

“Mia!”

I went straight over and hugged her.

“Should have said you were coming over,” I said in my best attempt at sounding warm.

Mia didn't smell like Mia anymore.

She used to smell of laundry detergent and cheap strawberry body wash. Now she smelled dry and woody, like wood shavings and forest air.

She smelled like Leah.

“Eh, I live here,” she said.

“No you don't.”

It came out with more bite than I intended.

“Oh my God, you brought food? I am starving.”

I wasn't really. I'd eaten a wrap about an hour earlier, but I couldn't reject Mia's food at the same time as I was rejecting her.

“Huh?”

Mia looked confused.

Just act normal. We can get through this.

She lifted the food and drinks. “Oh, right, yeah. I have banh mi and some bubble tea.”

“Oh, my favorite. Thank you.”

I took the bag from her and walked into the kitchen.

Favorite.

Wrong flavor of bubble tea and pork instead of beef.

Favorite adjacent.

Mia followed me into the kitchen.

“You’re moving? When were you planning to tell me?”

I bit my tongue and went with the lines I'd rehearsed.

“Our lease ends November fifteenth. I’m paying my part until then. After that, we would have had to negotiate something new with the landlord anyway.”

I let out a sigh. This was not going to plan.

“I was planning to tell you once I had all my stuff out of here.”

Mia looked shocked.

“What is happening, Lin? Where are you going?”

I sat down at the table, unwrapped my food, and took a bite. 

Remember the lines.

“I’ve been feeling different since we came back from Shelly’s wedding. I think you unlocked something in me. A new passion, or want. The video with Anna, the stuff at the school. It... refreshed me. Made the fog go away. Then the way you spoke to my friends and family about me made me realize I wasn't trying to be the person you saw me as. I wasn't working hard at school. I wasn't planning for the future. I was just... hanging around.”

I took another bite.

Eat. Chew. Swallow. Keep going.

“I’ve decided to focus on school. I want to attend more classes in person. I want to focus on my degree. I want to get this done, and I want to do it well.”

If I stopped, she'd start asking questions.

Mia looked around the room, pointing at all the boxes. “But why are you moving?”

“I found a room closer to Hunter. If I'm going to actually attend classes instead of doing everything I can online, I don't want an hour of my day disappearing on the train.”

Another bite. Keep going.

Mia looked puzzled. “Isn’t that more expensive than here?”

“I’m sharing with five other people. It’s twelve hundred a month, so I’m saving about six hundred.”

“Five other people?” Mia said, sounding shocked.

“It’s fine. They’re all students, so everyone is focused on school. Cutting out distractions. Really getting this done.”

Mia gave me a look.

“What distractions?”

Crud.

That wasn't one of the lines.

I looked down at my food.

There probably wasn't a nice way to answer that.

“I’m cutting things off with Dan, and...” I took a deep breath. “I want to create some distance between us.”

I didn't look her in the eye when I said it.

“I want you to stop texting me. No more sex, no more spending the night. I don’t want you visiting me or pulling me into anything. I want a clean break. Maybe once I get my footing, we can reconnect.”

I expected Mia to slap me. Or shout.

Instead, she was quiet.

I looked up. She was sitting across from me.

“Was I stopping you from studying?” she asked softly.

I closed my eyes.

Please don't ask the next question.

“No,” I said.

“Did I tell you not to get a job?”

“No.”

“Am I a burden?”

I opened my eyes and looked at her.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then why do you have to get rid of me to become a better person?”

I sank down in my chair and tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling.

This was why I'd wanted to be gone before I told her.

“It’s not like that.”

“You are running away, Lin. You are not doing this because you suddenly care about your fucking GPA. You are doing this because I said I love you, and you decided that was too scary when you started feeling something for me.”

Okay, that hurt.

Mia stood up from her chair.

“You left Iowa, not because you wanted to move to New York, but because you wanted out of Iowa. You settled in here, and then you found me. But when I tell you I love you, you start feeling the same way, and Leah makes everything complicated, suddenly you need another fresh start. You can’t pick complicated, so you choose to run.”

I stood up and moved toward her.

This was getting worse.

Hug her. Calm her down. Get her out the door.

“I know you are angry, Mia, but... I want this. I need this.”

She started toward the door, avoiding my hug.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” she said as she touched the door handle. 

“Mia, wait.”

She looked back at me.

Her eyes were red. She was close to crying.

“What!?”

Damn. 

“I’m... sorry.”

It was all I had.

Mia turned back toward the door.

“Fuck you, Lin.”

She slammed it behind her.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Okay.

That could have gone worse.

At least it was over.

I went back to packing.

When I showed up, all my new roommates helped with the move.

Boxes were quickly moved into my room and stacked neatly against the walls. My bed was set up in no time, and the whole thing was over in less than thirty minutes.

Amazing what five guys could accomplish when they all decided to do something at the same time.

I was unpacking when Ethan knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to join them for dinner.

“Mateo's cooking, and not to be racist, but his Mexican is superior in basically every way.”

I accepted and joined everyone in the dining room.

They explained the system to me over dinner.

There was a shared food budget, and every day you could opt in for dinner. Cooking rotated between everyone who opted in. It was cheaper than everyone buying and cooking their own food. It meant you didn't end up with six versions of the same thing taking up the refrigerator, and it guaranteed at least one point during the day when everyone had a reason to be in the same room. 

Efficient, social, and designed to avoid arguments.

I liked it immediately.

Introductions happened somewhere between Mateo putting food on the table and everyone starting to eat.

Mateo Alvarez was twenty-five, Mexican-American, and studying architecture. He was also apparently responsible for dinner and most of the conversation.

“This is Noah Kim,” Mateo said, pointing across the table. “He does computers and judges us silently.”

Noah gave him a look.

“Computer Science.”

“See?”

Noah was twenty-four, Korean-American, with short black hair and glasses. He gave me a small wave.

“Hi, Lillian.”

“Hi.”

Next to him was Oliver Bennett, although everyone called him Ollie. He was twenty-seven, making him the oldest of us, and was doing his JD. He had light brown hair that was cut short and neatly styled.

“Ollie handles legal complaints,” Mateo said.

“I absolutely do not.”

“He'll tell you why your complaint isn't legally actionable.”

“That I might do.”

I smiled.

Dev Patel was twenty-three, Indian-American, and studying Film and Media Studies. He had thick black hair that curled slightly around his ears and a short beard.

The woman sitting beside him was Sophie Chen, his girlfriend. She was Chinese-American, also twenty-three, with long black hair and round glasses. She was studying Psychology.

“She doesn't live here,” Ethan explained.

“But I pay into the food fund,” Sophie added immediately.

“Very important distinction,” Mateo said.

“I eat here three or four nights a week. I'm not freeloading off you people.”

“She has her own shelf in the fridge,” Dev said.

“I pay for that too.”

I liked Sophie immediately.

That left Ethan Brooks, who I already knew. He was twenty-six, Black, had short-cropped hair, and was doing his master's in Mechanical Engineering.

Five roommates, one regular girlfriend, and me.

I repeated the names in my head.

Ethan. Mateo. Noah. Ollie. Dev. Sophie.

That wasn't too difficult.

“Alcohol budget isn't shared, by the way,” Ethan said as he opened a beer. “But I can spot you if you don't have anything with you.”

“I can trade you half a bottle of Jägermeister for a few beers if that feels fair?”

“More than fair. My crappy beer against proper German hard liquor. I like how that sounds.”

I laughed as he handed me a beer.

We had a good meal together. Mateo really did make some great Mexican food.

I got to know everyone a little better and gave them the safe-for-work version of my own history. I was from Iowa, had moved to New York four years ago, was studying History and Arts at Hunter, and had recently decided I should probably take the studying part more seriously.

There were several other details that didn't seem necessary on the first night.

After dinner, people slowly started filing out, either disappearing into their rooms or saying good night.

“Any lectures tomorrow?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing until two. Fridays are fairly quiet. I've got some chapters I need to catch up on, though.”

“Cool. Wanna watch something?”

I shrugged, grabbed my beer, and followed him into the living room. 

The couch was a huge U-shape, with several large chairs scattered around it. You could probably fit ten people in there comfortably.

The TV was enormous.

Eighty inches? Maybe more.

It took up almost the entire wall.

Ethan picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

“What do you want to watch?”

“What do you have?”

“Everything.”

“That seems unlikely.”

He opened an app with a yellow chevron that looked like half a play button.

There were a lot of movies and a lot of TV shows.

“Dev runs a server for the house. Movies, shows, whatever. If there's something you want and it isn't there, search for it, add it to the watchlist, and it'll mysteriously appear.” 

I looked through the library.

“So we don't need Netflix or anything?”

“Nope. Cancel all of it.”

That was another fifty dollars or so a month I could stop spending.

I was starting to like this place.

Ethan pointed the remote at me.

“Don't ask how.”

“I wasn't going to.”

“Good. If the FBI raids us, you have no idea what Dev was doing.”

“I don't know what Dev is doing now.”

“Perfect.” 

He browsed around in the movie section.

“You seen The Mummy?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I don’t trust people who haven’t.”

I had forgotten how good Brendan Fraser looked in this movie.

That was somewhat distracting.

We talked as the movie played. I learned a little about Ethan's family, and he learned a carefully edited version of mine.

By the time Imhotep was back at full power, Ethan had stretched his arm along the back of the couch.

I could have stayed where I was.

Instead, I leaned a little closer.

His arm dropped from the back of the couch and settled around my shoulders.

I smiled.

Okay.

I leaned closer again.

Ethan still smelled of vanilla. It had to be his shampoo or something. I took a deep breath, and he looked down at me.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just smelling you.”

“Bad?”

“No, quite good, actually.”

He smiled at that and pulled me a little closer.

His arm was around my shoulders now, his hand resting directly over my left breast.

Okay.

That was fast, but not exactly wrong.

Maybe just some playing around tonight.

No sex.

I adjusted how I was sitting, bringing his hand closer against me.

He started moving it casually, and I could feel my nipple stiffening.

I looked up at him. He looked down at me and gave my boob a squeeze.

Smiling, I started running my hand along his leg.

Let's see who folds first.

He slipped his hand beneath my shirt.

Okay. Maybe I could fold first.

Handjob?

No. I am not a girl. I am a woman, and we give blowjobs.

But nothing more tonight.

Third base and done.

I undid his belt and opened his pants.

Size-wise, he wasn't as big as Dan.

Good. Nothing to fear, then.

I pulled him out of his underwear and discovered that he was clean-shaven. Not a look I was familiar with on guys, but nothing I objected to.

He stroked my head, and I sort of leaned into his hand before opening my mouth and sucking on his head.

A soft moan escaped him, and I felt him buck against me. I lifted my head with him.

I was giving head here, not getting facefucked.

He moved his hand away from my head and down to my butt. He gave it a squeeze and a light slap.

I shook my butt a little to show that I'd noticed, but kept working his dick.

Then I felt his hand slip beneath my pants and underwear and grab my butt cheek.

“Can you take off your pants? I want to see that ass.”

Sure, why not.

I was blowing him. He could look at my ass.

I got up and removed my pants, leaving my underwear on, then got back on the couch and continued the blowjob.

He went back to grabbing my butt cheek, and not long after that, I felt a finger slip into me.

A moan came out before I expected it.

Okay.

That did feel good.

Ethan clearly took that as encouragement and kept going. It made the blowjob considerably harder to perform, but I was no quitter.

Then another finger.

Another moan.

Fuck, Ethan. Why are you making this blowjob so difficult?

While I was still trying to recover, he used his other hand to lift my face toward his and kissed me, still fingering me.

When he pulled back, his voice was soft.

“It’s really hard for me to come from head. Are you on any contraception?”

I nodded.

“The pill.”

“Can I put it in you for a bit? I'll pull out. It’ll help me come.”

I looked at him for a second.

Third base and done.

Apparently that rule had lasted almost ten minutes.

I nodded, one hand still against his face while his fingers moved inside me.

“Okay.”

A tiny bit of sex, then.

He pulled my underwear to the side and slid his cock up and down between my lips a few times before entering me.

“Mmm, that feels good,” I said.

“God, you are so tight...”

I blushed.

I didn't think anyone had ever told me my pussy was tight before. It felt like a weird thing to be proud of, but I was.

We stayed like that for a while, with me straddling him as he pushed into me on the couch.

Then he moved me and stood up.

I thought he was about to come, so I started blowing him again. I'd rather swallow everything than get cum on my clothes.

He stood while I knelt on the couch, and I could taste myself on his dick.

It turned out Ethan wasn't ready to come just yet.

He moved behind me and entered me again, much deeper this time.

“Oh... I thought you were about to come for me,” I said.

“Not yet. Lean forward. Let me see your ass.”

I did, bending forward and putting my head down against the couch, lifting my ass for his inspection.

“Oh, that's nice. You have a very nice ass, Lillian.”

I smiled into the couch.

I was tight. I had a nice ass.

I really liked this sort of talk.

I felt his thumb circle my asshole.

Well, it was a really nice ass.

I pushed back against his thumb, feeling it slip in.

Ethan started to increase his pace, and I reached back between my legs and cupped his balls.

He suddenly stiffened, and I felt him twitch inside me.

Okay.

So he came inside me.

It was fine. I was on the pill.

He slid out and leaned back against the couch.

“That was amazing, Lillian. I'm sorry I came inside you, but when you grabbed my balls, I just couldn't control myself.”

I bit my lip.

Okay, this had gone a little further than I'd expected.

But I'd made him lose control.

That wasn't bad, right?

I leaned forward and kissed him.

“It was. We should do it again sometime.”

I gave him a wink, got up, and walked back to my room.

As the door closed, I felt cum running down my leg.

Okay, new goal. Ethan needs to be converted to a boyfriend. No more just sleeping around.

We are gonna be better here.

The rain had been falling for hours, turning the city into a soft blur of neon and wet asphalt. She stood under the awning of the bar, her coat soaked through at the shoulders, when the door to the bar opened and he stepped out.

She recognized him immediately. The same dark eyes, the same quiet intensity she’d noticed three nights ago when he’d bought her a drink and then left without asking for her number. Tonight he walked straight toward her, as if he’d been looking for her the whole time.

“You’re still out here,” he said. His voice was low, a little rough from the weather.
“I like the rain.”
He didn’t smile. He just reached out, brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek with the back of his fingers, and said, “Come with me.”
They didn’t speak on the short walk to his place. The elevator was empty. The moment the doors closed he turned, pressed her against the mirrored wall, and kissed her like he’d been thinking about it since the first night. His mouth was warm, deliberate. One hand slid under her coat, palm flat against the damp fabric of her dress, then lower, cupping her ass and pulling her hips against his.

She felt him already hard. The elevator dinged. Neither of them moved until the doors started to close again.
His apartment was dark except for the city lights bleeding through the rain-streaked windows. He didn’t bother with the lights. He just backed her toward the bed, peeling her coat off, then the dress, until she stood in nothing but black lace and the cool air on her skin.
He knelt.
Not to worship. Not to perform. Simply because he wanted his mouth on her. He hooked his fingers in the lace and dragged it down her thighs, then pressed his face between her legs with a low sound that vibrated against her clit. Maya’s hands went into his hair. Her knees nearly gave out when he licked her slowly, thoroughly, like he had all night and intended to use every minute of it.

When she came the first time it was quiet—just a sharp inhale and the way her thighs trembled against his shoulders. He didn’t stop. He kept going until she was shaking, oversensitive, whispering his name like a warning and a plea at the same time.
Only then did he stand, strip, and push her back onto the bed.

He entered her in one long, controlled thrust. She was so wet it was almost too easy, and the stretch of him made her gasp. He held still for a moment, forehead against hers, breathing hard.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not enough,” she answered.
He fucked her like he meant it—deep, steady, one hand braced by her head, the other sliding between them to circle her clit again. Every time she got close he slowed just enough to keep her on the edge, until she was arching under him, nails in his back, begging without words.

When he finally let her cum the second time, he followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning against her throat as he filled her.
They stayed like that for a long time, rain still tapping the windows, bodies slick and tangled.
Eventually he lifted his head. His voice was quieter now.
“Stay.”
Maya smiled in the dark.
“I was planning on it.”

The last class of the night ended at nine and the studio smelled like incense and sweat. Four of us were left. Three girls headed to the showers and I stayed on my mat because my husband was texting me and I was in no rush.

I fell asleep for twenty minutes and I woke up and rushed to catch up. I grabbed my towel and my bag and I walked toward the showers and the bathroom door was still running water. I was next.

I glanced into the office on my way and Coach was sitting at his desk with the door half open.

He had three pairs of leggings spread out in front of him.

I stopped in the doorway.

He didnt know I was there. He picked up the black pair first, the ones from the girl who always sat in the front, and he folded them once and pressed them to his nose and breathed in. Slow. Eyes closed. Then the blue ones. Then the grey ones.

He saved the grey ones for last. They belonged to the girl who made the biggest mess on her mat.

He brought them to his face and his shoulders dropped like he had been holding them up all night. He breathed in deep and his whole body went still.

I should have walked in. Instead, I raised my phone instead and hit record

He was not even trying to hide it anymore. He turned them over in his hands and found the inside, the dark mark at the inner thigh, and he pressed his mouth to it. His tongue went out and he licked it once, slow, and I felt that in my stomach.

My legs were closed under my towel and I was so wet it was embarrassing

He picked up the black pair again. He was going through them all a second time like he couldnt help himself and I was recording every second.

I moved in the doorway to get a better angle and my elbow hit the metal cabinet beside the door frame.

It rang out loud.

He dropped the leggings and spun around.

"Shit" he said

My heart was going so hard I could hear it. I should have said something. I did not say anything.

He stood up from his chair and took a step toward the door and looked left and looked right and then I stepped into the light.

"Coach" I said.

He froze.

His face went white and then red and his hands went to the leggings on the desk and then dropped to his sides and he looked at the floor.

"Oh god" he said. "Jhen. I am so sorry. Please dont tell anyone"

He was still staring at the floor and his hands were shaking and he looked like he might throw up.

"I have never done that before" he said. "I dont know what is wrong with me"

I raised the phone and showed him the screen.

The video was playing. It was him. It was the leggings. It was his tongue.

"You recorded it" he said and his voice broke.

"Yeah" I said.

He looked at the phone and then at me and then at the desk and his face went red again and he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

"You wanna see it again" I asked.

He swallowed hard and his voice was barely there.

"What?"

"You wanna see it again" I said. "Or should I delete it?"

He stared at me and then at the phone and then at the leggings on the desk and his chest was going up and down and his eyes were wet.

"I am so sorry" he said again.

"I know" I said.

He nodded and wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked at me and then looked away.

"Delete it" he said. "Please"

I put the phone on the desk and I walked over to him and gathered all three pairs of leggings and held them against my chest.

"You sure about that" I asked.

He was staring at the phone and his voice was shaking.

"Yes" he said. "Please. I will replace the leggings. I will quit. Just please delete it."

I looked at him and didnt move. He was standing there and his chest was going up and down and his hands were clenched at his sides and his eyes were wet.

"You know that is not what it looked like" he said.

I raised an eyebrow.

"I went through the leggings to find the owner" he said. "I was gonna put them back"

"You licked them" I said.

"I was checking for......damage" he said.

"You went through three pairs and you licked all of them" I said.

He opened his mouth and closed it and his jaw tightened and he looked away.

"It is not like that" he said.

"Then what is it like" I asked.

He was quiet for a long time and his hands were clenched at his sides and his chest was going up and down and he would not look at me.

"I dont know" he said finally. "I saw them and I just. I lost my head. I know that is not an excuse. I shouldnt have done it"

"So you licked them" I said.

"Yeah" he said and his voice was low.

"And you want me to delete the video" I said.

He looked at me and his eyes were desperate and his jaw was tight and he nodded.

"Please" he said. "Im begging you. Delete it. I'll do anything"

I walked over to him and stood in front of him and he was standing and I was standing and I reached down and put my hand on his chest and he was warm and his heart was going so hard I could feel it.

"You really want it gone" I asked.

"Yes" he said. "Please"

"Then you work for it" I said. "You ask. You wait. You say thank you when I am done. Understood?"

He looked down at me and his breath caught and his hands hung at his sides and he was shaking his head and his eyes were wet and he would not move.

"I cant" he said. "Im sorry. I'll replace the leggings. Just please dont tell anyone."

"You dont get to quit" I said. "And you dont get to decide what happens to that video."

His face went white.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I already told you" I said.

He closed his eyes and his jaw tightened and his hands dropped from his sides and he stepped back and looked at the desk and then at me and then at the door.

"You're gonna make me beg" he said.

"Yeah" I said.

He stood there and his hands were clenched and his chest was going up and down and his eyes were wet and he looked at me like I was the only thing in the room.

"Please" he said.

"Please what" I said.

"Please let me" he said and his voice broke.

"Let you what" I said.

"Just let me prove it" he said. "Please. I will do anything. Just tell me what to do"

I reached down and undid his shorts and pulled his cock out and he was hard and his whole body went tight and he made a sound that he tried to hold in.

"Quiet" I said. "You wouldn't wantt us to get caught"

I sank to my knees in front of him and he looked down at me and his hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles went white and I took him in my mouth and he was already leaking and I could taste him and I went slow at first, dragging my tongue flat along the underside of his cock and then faster and his thighs were shaking and his head fell back and his breath was coming in short gasps.

"Fuck" he said and his voice was wrecked. "Your mouth feels so good"

I pulled back and looked up at him and his eyes were on me and his jaw was open.

"Be quiet. Behave" I said

I took him back in and went deeper and spit ran down his cock onto my tongue and I didnt care and his hand went to the back of my head and he held it there and his fingers curled into my hair.

"Jhen" he said. "Im so close"

I didnt answer him . I just kept going and swallowed around him and his whole body went tight and his hand in my hair pulled me closer and he came in my mouth with a groan that he could not hold back and I swallowed every drop and I kept swallowing until he was done and I sat back on my heels and looked up at him and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Say thank you" I said.

"Thank you" he said and his voice was wrecked.

"One more minute and you really would be dead!"

I stared at John Mercer on my table. I was about to cut into him, one clean Y incision, and just like that he twitched and caught my wrist in one clumsy-ass backwards motion. His hands were ice. His eyes were the kind of blue people write shitty love songs about, and it's a shame I can't sing worth a damn.

"Hi, Tess," he rasped. "I was hoping you'd be on tonight."

I screamed loud enough to rattle the cooler. The scalpel hit the tile. I did not faint, because I'd been waiting nine years to see this man's face again and I was not going to miss it.

Nine years ago, John was the med school golden boy who left halfway through second year with no explanation, and I took his spot at the top of the class like an inheritance. He'd made it look easy. He'd been paying for his tuition the whole time by renting the second-floor lab from the head chemist and cooking something so pure the department pretended not to know. I wrote a shitty thesis on how much I hated him instead of a love song.

Now he was blue-lipped on my steel table with a toe tag I hadn't read, because I don't look at faces before the incision.

"You're dead," I said. "I have the paperwork. The ER called it at eleven."

"The ER read what I wanted them to read." His teeth chattered. "Slow your pulse, drop your core temp. It's a nice piece of work, if I do say so myself."

"You took something."

"I made something. There's a difference."

I ran the tox screen on the intake sample out of habit, so I knew what it said before he did. I held up the printout. "Clean."

"Of course it's clean."

"You're insulted I checked."

"I'm deeply insulted you checked." He tried to smile. It didn't work. "I need you to sign it, Tess. The death certificate. I need it to be you. Anyone else would sign it without looking. You'd look at everything, and then you'd sign it anyway, because you're the best I ever competed against."

The phone was six feet away.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you'd want to know why."

I did. God help me, I did.

I got the heated blankets down, the ones we keep for grieving families, because there is a protocol for hypothermia and I follow protocols. Core first. Skin to skin if you've got nothing else.

"Take the sheet off."

"All of it?"

"I've had four hundred men on this table and not one of them blushed."

He blushed. It was the first color in his face, and it was criminal.

I wrapped him up, climbed on the table behind him, and pressed my chest to his back with my arms around his ribs. Wet wool, pond water, and under it, slowly coming up through the cold, something warm and salty that was only him. Nine years I'd wondered. I put my face in his neck and found out in a morgue.

"You're warm," he said.

"I'm the only warm thing in the building."

"That's a lot of pressure."

"Then shut up and take it. And so we're clear, I've been handling the dead for six years, and nothing I touch has ever touched back."

He turned his head until his cold mouth found my throat. Every ethics seminar I'd ever sat through went down the drain in the floor.

I shoved him onto his back and straddled him in my scrubs, palms flat on his chest, his heart pounding up into my hands.

"Hands on the table."

"Tess."

"Hands on the table, John."

He put them there, flat on the steel, and looked up at me like I was the one who'd come back from somewhere. I pulled my top off and dropped it by the drain. His eyes went exactly where I wanted them.

"Say it," I said, rolling my hips down slow. "Say you never looked at me."

"I looked."

"You did not."

"Every day. You'd turn around in the lecture hall and glare, and I'd forget my own name." His hips jerked up under me. "I left because I couldn't stand being second to nobody and still losing to you."

"That's the stupidest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"I know."

"I hated you because I wanted you, you idiot." It came out sideways. "Nine years. I used to go home and put my hand in my pants thinking about you walking out on me."

His hands twitched against the steel. He didn't lift them. I could see what it cost him.

I slid down his body, dragging the blanket with me. He was warm now, flushed from his chest to his thighs, thick and heavy in my hand, and he swore at the ceiling. I took my time, because I could. I licked a slow stripe from base to tip and felt his thighs shake against my palms. I took him in my mouth, and the sound he made bounced off every steel surface in the room.

One of his hands left the table and hovered above my hair, trembling.

"Please," he said. "Can I?"

I nodded around him. His fingers slid in and held on, not pushing, like I was the only solid thing in the building.

The wall radio crackled.

"Hale, it's Marcus. You get my midnight intake?"

I froze. So did John. His hand clenched in my hair.

"Got it," I said, mouth wet, in the best professional voice of my career. "Cooler, bay four. Nothing's moving."

"Copy. Night, Doc."

John bit his own fist so he wouldn't laugh. "That's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me."

"You're on my table. That's a low bar."

I shoved my scrub pants down and climbed up his body. I was so wet it was embarrassing, a thing I would blame on the heating blankets. I hovered above him, and he looked up with those stupid eyes, a little scared, absolutely starving.

"Ask nicely," I said.

"Please, Tess. Can I cum inside you?"

"Yes."

I sank onto him in one long breath, and we both swore. His hands found my hips and I let them stay. I rode him slow, then hard, the table walking an inch across the tile, the blankets sliding to the floor. His eyes stayed on my face the whole time.

"You were dead an hour ago," I panted.

"I know. It's your fault."

"Then do it right." I leaned down until my mouth was at his ear. "Please. Come inside me. I want something warm in here for once."

He broke. I felt him pulse, deep and hot, his whole body locking under me, his heart slamming against my chest, fast and loud and completely unmistakable. I came with him, forehead on his shoulder, shaking so hard the gurney rattled.

When I finally stood, it ran down my thigh into my scrubs and I let it. John sat wrapped in the last of the blankets, pink-faced and shivering and grinning like a man who'd gotten away with something. I picked up the pen and the death certificate and looked at them for a long time.

The radio crackled.

"Hale, Marcus again. Quiet down there? Anything come back to life?"

I looked at John. He looked at me. I thought about nine years, and a spotless tox screen, and the warm, stupid, wonderful mess on my thigh.

I signed it.

"No," I said. "He's dead."

Permission Granted - Part 12

We stepped out into the cooler night air. The bass from the club faded behind us as we walked toward the parking lot. Emily stayed close on one side of me, Dani on the other. Ross followed a half-step behind, quiet but clearly wired from everything he’d just watched.

“My place is closest,” I said.

No one objected.

The drive was short and charged. Emily sat in the rear passenger seat behind me. Dani was next to me, her hand rubbing my thigh. Every so often I caught Emily’s eyes in the rearview mirror as she looked at Dani, the two of them exchanging small looks that said the kiss on the dance floor had only been the beginning.

Ross sat in the back beside Emily, hands resting on his thighs, her hand was rubbing his cock through his pants.

We pulled into my driveway. Inside the house the lights were low. I locked the door behind us and turned to the three of them in the entryway.

Emily didn’t wait. She stepped straight to Dani, took her face in both hands, and kissed her again—deeper this time, less testing. Dani answered it fully, one hand sliding into Emily’s blonde hair. I watched them for a long moment, then glanced at Ross. He was already staring, lips slightly parted, the same look he always got when his wife was being taken in some new way.

When the two women finally broke apart, both of them were breathing faster. Emily looked at me, then at Dani, then back at me.

“Where do you want us?”

I nodded toward the living room.

“Couch. For now.”

They moved together without needing more instruction. Ross followed and took the same seat he always did when he was told to watch—slightly apart, fully present, already accepting whatever came next. I stayed standing for a moment longer, looking at the three of them in my living room, the night still wide open in front of us.

I stayed standing for a moment longer, looking at the three of them in my living room.

Emily and Dani sat close on the couch, still half-turned toward each other. The black rhinestone dress and the red dress looked almost painted on under the low light. Ross took the armchair a few feet away, the same place he always chose when he was told to watch.

I walked over and sat on the coffee table in front of the two women so I was level with them.

“Come here,” I said to Emily.

She leaned forward. I kissed her slowly, thoroughly, one hand resting on the back of her neck. When I pulled back I turned to Dani and did the same—same pace, same intent. She kissed me back without hesitation. The whole time Emily watched, eyes dark, a small smile on her lips.

When I finished with Dani I sat back slightly.

“Now the two of you.”

Emily didn’t need to be told twice. She turned, took Dani’s face in her hands again, and kissed her deeper than she had at the club. Dani made a soft sound and met her halfway, one hand sliding along Emily’s thigh where the red dress had ridden up. They stayed like that for a long time—kissing, breathing each other in, hands beginning to explore with more purpose. Emily’s fingers traced the rhinestone chains of Dani’s dress. Dani’s hand slipped higher under the hem of Emily’s skirt.

Ross sat perfectly still in the armchair, eyes locked on his wife making out with another woman only a few feet away. His breathing had gone shallow.

I watched them for another minute, letting the heat build, before I spoke again, voice low.

“Keep going. I’m not in a hurry.”

Emily and Dani didn’t need more encouragement.
The kiss deepened. Emily’s hand slid fully under the hem of Dani’s dress, pushing the tight black fabric higher on her thigh. Dani answered by tugging the strap of Emily’s red dress off one shoulder, exposing more of her skin. They shifted closer on the couch until there was almost no space left between them.

I stayed seated on the coffee table, watching every movement. Every so often one of them would glance at me—checking, offering—then go right back to the other. Ross remained in the armchair, completely silent, eyes never leaving the two women. The only sounds in the room were the soft wet noise of their kissing and the quiet rustle of fabric.

After a while I leaned forward and rested a hand on each of their knees.

“Slow down. Look at each other.”

They did. Both of them were flushed, lips wet, breathing uneven. Emily’s blue eyes were almost black with want. Dani’s darker gaze was just as hungry. I let the moment hang for a second longer, then nodded toward Emily.

“Take her dress off.”

Emily’s hands moved to the straps of Dani’s black dress. She slid them down slowly, deliberately, revealing skin and the edge of the tattoos on Dani’s arm. Dani lifted her hips just enough to help. The dress pooled at her waist. Emily paused, looked at me once more for confirmation, then continued until Dani was left in nothing but the black choker and her black thong.

Ross’s breath caught audibly from the armchair.
I kept my hands on both of their knees and spoke quietly.

“Your turn, Dani.”

She reached for the thin straps of Emily’s red dress and slid them down her arms. Emily lifted herself just enough for the tight fabric to peel away from her body. The dress dropped to her waist, then lower, until it was pooled around her hips. Underneath she wore nothing but a pair of red panties. Her pierced nipples were already hard in the cool air of the living room.

Dani’s eyes moved over her openly. She glanced at me once, waiting.

I nodded.

Dani leaned in and kissed Emily again, slower this time, while her hands explored newly bare skin—tracing the curve of Emily’s waist, the underside of her breasts, the soft line of her stomach. Emily arched into the touch, one hand sliding into Dani’s dark hair. The two of them stayed like that for a long stretch, kissing and touching, completely focused on each other while Ross and I watched in silence.

“Keep going,” I told them. “Show him everything.”

Emily looked over at Ross for the first time since we walked in the house. The expression on her face was pure heat and ownership. Then she turned back to Dani, guided her down onto the couch, and climbed over her, the red dress still tangled around her hips, blonde hair falling forward as she leaned down to kiss her again.

The kiss was deeper this time. Hungrier. Emily’s hands braced on either side of Dani’s head while their bodies pressed together. Dani’s hands slid up Emily’s bare back, then down again, gripping her ass through the bunched fabric of the dress.
They moved against each other slowly at first, testing, then with more intent.

Emily broke the kiss just long enough to look down at Dani.

“Tell me what you want.”

Dani’s voice was low and steady.

“Touch me.”

Emily’s hand slid between them, down Dani’s stomach, and under the last of the black fabric still covering her. Dani’s breath caught. Her head tipped back against the couch cushion as Emily’s fingers started moving. I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but the look on Dani’s face and the way her hips rolled upward made it clear.

Emily watched her the whole time, blue eyes dark with focus, while she worked her hand between Dani’s legs. Every so often she leaned down and kissed her again—neck, mouth, the top of her breast—never stopping the motion of her fingers. Dani’s hands gripped Emily’s waist harder. Soft moans started spilling out of her more freely.

“Good girls” I said quietly. “Keep going.”

Emily’s pulled Dani’s thong off and then her hand moved more deliberately between Dani’s legs. From the angle I had I could see her fingers sliding through wet folds, then pressing inside.
Dani’s hips lifted to meet her. A louder moan slipped out of her mouth. Emily added a second finger and started fucking her with them in steady strokes, the sound of her fingers pushing in and out of Dani’s pussy was clear from where I was sitting.

Dani’s head tipped back harder against the cushion. Her hands gripped Emily’s waist, nails pressing into skin. Emily leaned down and took one of Dani’s nipples into her mouth, sucking while her fingers kept working. Dani moaned louder, one hand sliding into Emily’s hair to hold her there.

“Fuck… just like that…”

Emily curled her fingers and rubbed more firmly.
The wet sound grew louder. Dani’s thighs started to tremble on either side of Emily’s hand. I could see how soaked she already was—Emily’s fingers glistened every time they pulled back before pushing in again.

Ross sat rigid beside me, eyes locked on the exact place where his wife’s hand disappeared between Dani’s legs. His breathing was shallow and controlled.
Emily lifted her head just enough to look at Dani’s face while she kept fingering her.

“You’re so wet already,” she murmured. “Does it turn you on knowing they’re both watching?”

Dani’s answer came out shaky.

“Yes…”

Emily smiled, slow and satisfied, pushed her fingers deeper and said “me too”.

She fucked Dani with them in a steady, focused rhythm—curling, stroking. Dani’s hips rolled to meet every thrust of her hand. Soft, continuous moans spilled out of her. Emily leaned down again and kissed her while she worked, swallowing the sounds Dani made.

After another minute Emily pulled her fingers free. They were shiny and soaked. She held them up between their faces for a moment, then slipped them into Dani’s mouth. Dani sucked them clean without being told, eyes locked on Emily’s the whole time.

Emily glanced over at me and Ross, checking, then looked back down at Dani.

“I want to taste you.”

She shifted lower on the couch, pushing Dani’s thighs wider with her hands. Emily settled between her legs and dragged her tongue through Dani’s folds in one long, slow stroke. Dani’s back arched hard. A sharp moan tore out of her.

Emily didn’t rush. She licked her open thoroughly—flat strokes, then focused attention on her clit, sucking gently, then harder. Her hands held Dani’s thighs spread while she ate her. Dani’s hands fisted in Emily’s hair, holding on as her hips started to move against Emily’s face.

I watched every detail—his wife on her knees between another woman’s legs, tongue working, while Dani moaned and trembled under her mouth.

“That’s it,” I said quietly. “Make her come.”

Emily didn’t need more encouragement. She sealed her mouth over Dani’s clit and sucked harder, tongue working in tight, relentless circles while two fingers pushed back inside her. Dani’s hips jerked. Her thighs trembled hard on either side of Emily’s head. Soft, desperate cries turned into higher, longer moans.

“Fuck—Emily—don’t stop—”

Emily kept the exact same pressure and pace, fingers curling against that spot inside her while her tongue stayed locked on her clit. Dani’s hands tightened in Emily’s blonde hair. Her back arched off the couch. The muscles in her stomach tensed.

Ross sat frozen beside me, eyes wide, completely locked on the sight of his wife making another woman come.

Dani’s breathing turned sharp and ragged. Her whole body started to shake.

“I’m—gonna—fuck—”

She came hard.

A long, loud scream tore out of her as the orgasm hit. Her hips bucked against Emily’s mouth. Her thighs clamped around Emily’s head while she shook through it. Emily stayed right there, licking and sucking her through every wave, fingers still working inside her, until the intensity finally faded and Dani collapsed back against the cushions, chest heaving, legs still trembling.

Emily gave her one last slow lick, then lifted her head. Her mouth and chin were shiny. She looked at Dani first, then over at me, eyes dark with satisfaction and still-hungry heat.

I smiled at her.

“Good girl.”

Dani was still catching her breath, legs limp on either side of Emily. I let the moment settle for a few seconds before I spoke again.

“Your turn, Emily. On your back. Legs open.”

Emily moved immediately. She shifted onto her back on the couch, the red dress still tangled around her hips, and spread her thighs. Dani needed almost no encouragement. She crawled up between Emily’s legs and dragged her tongue through her soaked folds in one long, deliberate stroke.

Emily’s head tipped back against the arm of the couch. A soft moan if pleasure slipped out of her.
Dani didn’t rush. She licked her open thoroughly—slow, flat strokes, then focused attention on her clit, sucking and flicking while two fingers slid inside her. Emily’s hand found Dani’s dark hair and held on. The other rolled and pinched her own nipple. Her hips began to roll upward to meet Dani’s mouth.

After a minute I leaned forward slightly.

“Add another finger. Stretch her pussy and fuck her with them while you eat her.”

Dani obeyed without looking up. She pushed a third finger into Emily and started thrusting them in steady strokes while her mouth stayed sealed over her clit. Emily’s moans grew louder and more continuous. Her back arched and she pinched her nipple. Her hips rolled harder against Dani’s mouth.

“Fuck—just like that—don’t stop—fuck—you’re going to make me cum.”

Dani kept the exact pace, curling her fingers while she sucked and licked Emily’s clit without mercy. Her breathing turned sharp and desperate. I could see the tension building in her stomach and thighs.

“Make her cum,” I said quietly to Dani.

Emily’s breathing turned sharp and uneven. Her fingers tightened in Dani’s hair, pulling her closer as her hips started to lose their rhythm. Soft, desperate sounds kept spilling out of her—half moans, half broken pleas. Her thighs trembled harder on either side of Dani’s head.

“Oh fuck—fucccckkkk” she moaned l.

Her back arched clean off the couch. Her legs shook while she came against Dani’s mouth, every pulse visible in the way her stomach clenched and released. Dani stayed locked in place, licking and stroking her through the entire thing until the strongest waves finally eased and Emily sank back down, gasping, completely spent.

Dani gave her one last soft pass of her tongue, then crawled up Emily’s body. She kissed her deeply—slow and thorough—letting Emily taste herself on her lips and tongue. Emily kissed her back without hesitation, one hand still tangled in Dani’s dark hair, the other resting weakly on her shoulder.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Dani looked over at me, waiting.

I nodded.

“Good. Both of you. Come here.”

She arrived at the restaurant first. She typically had trouble being punctual, but she was nervous, so she made an effort to be on time. It had been a while since she did something like this, and she wanted it to go well. She was not sure about going on a blind date, but her friend really talked this guy up, so she was ready to give him a try.
He picked a nice restaurant, so that was a mark for him. It was modern and upscale, but not so fancy that she would feel uncomfortable. She was wearing a floral, loose knee-length skirt and a white, button-up blouse. He walked in with a well-fitted navy blue suit, white shirt, and black tie. She was impressed. He had dark hair and gorgeous eyes. The suit managed to show off a few other pleasant features.
“Sorry if I am late,” he said, coming to meet her at the table. She was pleased by how long his eyes lingered on her outfit.
“No, you’re fine,” she said, standing to greet him. “I showed up a little early. It’s been a while since I have done anything like this,” she said nervously. She was never sure how much she should share. 
“You look beautiful. I love that skirt.”
“Thanks, it has pockets!” She said, proving her word by placing her hand in her pockets and giving her skirt a swirl. 
“Please sit down and tell me about yourself, I'll order us something to drink,” he said with a smile.
She did just that. He had an open smile and a ready laugh. She typically did not like talking about herself, but he seemed so interested in her explaining the monotony of her job that she could not help but go into every detail.
He had an open dorkiness about him that really brought her out of her shell. Her friend was right, he was exactly her type. As great as the food was and pleasant the conversation, she could not wait until dinner was over.   
After dinner he suggested a walk at a nearby park, perfect. It was a nice night, perfect for a walk in the park. Some scattered clouds were covering the moon, giving the entire night a gray haze.
“Let's sit on this bench for a second,” she said, gesturing to a nearby bench.
“Sounds good,” he replied, taking her hand and leading the way.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he started to say, but she did not let him finish. She leaned over and placed her lips over his. 
At first, he was so surprised that he did not return the kiss immediately, but soon he kissed back with passion. He placed his arm on her shoulder, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Without a second thought, she hiked her skirt up, swung her leg over him, and began to straddle him on the park bench.
He tried to protest that they were in public, but her tongue filling his mouth silenced him. The park bench was rough under her knees, but it felt nice. He was clearly enjoying it because she could feel the pressure of him on her pelvis. She began to rock on top of him, pulling as close to him as she could. She bent her head back, exposing the nape of her neck. Needing no other prompting, he gave in to her request. 
A small part of her was worried about how hard he was kissing her neck. She had work in the morning, but another part of her just wanted him to kiss harder. That part of her won out. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him into her neck.
With her mouth against his ear, she whispered, “Finger me.” Her breath against his ear caused him to shudder. He slowly moved his hand from her shoulder down her chest, lingering on her breasts, and then on her waist. He was taking a painfully long time to reach his destination, but she enjoyed every second of the anticipation. Finally, he moved his hand between her legs. Another shudder escaped his body when he found she was not wearing anything else beneath her flowing skirt.
He began to tease her with his finger. Slowing and gently moving it up and down her labia. He would linger just an instant on her clit, giving it the smallest amount of pressure, before moving back to the teasing motion. It hurt how badly she just wanted him to sink his finger deep inside of her, but this playfulness, this agonizing anticipation, made her heart race. 
Finally, he gave her what she wanted. First, he started slowly, gently moving his finger back and forth, feeling her body rock with his motion. He curled his finger, rubbing inside of her with added pressure. She was trying to keep quiet since they were in the open, but she could not help it, she let a moan escape her body.
The noise seemed to make him realize where they were. Stopping, he said, “We should stop. Maybe we can go back to my place to finish this.”
“If you want to stop, then stop,” she said in a faltering whisper into his ear. Before he could make any decision to stop, she bit his ear before moving to his neck. Repaying any mark he might have left on her, she began to kiss with vigor. 
He began to let out a small moan, before pulling her head back and planting his lips on hers. He filled her mouth with his tongue, stopping any noise that might escape, and he began to move his finger again. This time he did not start slowly. With one hand around her waist pulling her into him, he quickly pulled his finger back and forth inside of her. 
She felt her thighs clench and her breathing quickened, there was so much pressure. She wanted him inside of her. She placed one hand over his, moving with it over her vagina, adding pressure to her clit. When she could not bear it any longer, when she wanted him in her more than anything, she pulled his hand out of the way and started to unzip his pants. She pulled a condom from her pocket. She finally managed to remove his dick from his pants. She began to rub his tip with her thumb, stroking his shaft with her other hand. He deserved so much more than this, but she could not stand the wait any longer. Quickly rolling the condom over him, she squatted up and inserted him inside of herself. The pressure as he entered was exhilarating.
She began to rock on him. She probably should have started slower, giving him more of a ride, but she was so far along she could not bear the thought of slowing down. 
He placed one arm around her waist, the other began to alternate between rubbing her chest and cradling her neck. She began to move faster and faster, feeling him pull her into every thrust. He placed his face against her chest. She could feel his hot breath as he quietly moaned. 
Moving his head to the side, she started biting his ear and neck. This proved too much for him. She could feel the added pressure as he throbbed inside of her. His penis started to quiver and squirted inside of her. Not caring where they were or how loud she was, she moaned into his ear. This is what she needed! She felt the pressure climb and climb before finally reaching its peak. She felt her entire body stiffen before blissfully relaxing. 
She rocked on him for a moment longer before getting up and sitting next to him, out of breath. She removed the condom and threw it in a nearby trash can. She then returned his penis to his pants and zipped them up. She laid her head down on his lap, and she saw him lean back, stretch out his arm, and let out a contented sigh. Yes, it has been way to long since she has done something like this.

(…Continued.)

His cock was still buried inside me when I looked back over my shoulder... hair stuck to my face, breath coming in gasps, thighs shaking from the orgasm that had just wrecked me.

And he was watching.

Not me, not my face. But us... where we were joined. Where I was stretched wide around him, dripping, twitching, still fluttering from the aftershocks.

His control was gone. I could see it in the slack of his jaw, the twitch of his fingers against my hips, the way his abs clenched as he tried to hold himself still inside my still-quivering pussy.

But he didn’t pull out.

Instead, he slid his hand up my back, slow and warm, until it was wrapped around the back of my neck. Not choking. Not rough. Just there. Holding me. Claiming me.

“I missed this pussy,” he said, voice low, wrecked. “Missed how tight you get when you cum.”

I swallowed hard, still catching my breath, forehead pressed to the wall. “You gonna fuck me again, or just stand there talking about it?”

That did something to him. I felt his cock twitch inside me.

His grip tightened on my neck. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make me feel it.

“You don’t get to challenge me, sweetheart,” he growled.

Then he pulled out… just halfway and slammed back in.

I gasped, body jerking, already overstimulated.

But he didn’t care.

He fucked into me slow at first, dragging every inch out, making me feel it. Letting the stretch tease my already aching core, letting my walls suck him back in like I couldn’t help it.

And I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to.

Every thrust was deliberate. Deeper than before. More controlled. Like he was trying to memorize the way I felt from the inside out.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing to my back, mouth brushing the shell of my ear.

“I hate how good you feel.”

I smirked. “No, you don’t.”

His teeth sank into my shoulder... hard and I gasped again.

“I dream about this,” he muttered against my skin. “When I fuck her, I see you bent over. When she comes, I imagine your voice. You ruin everything.”

I moaned, pressing back against him. “Then ruin me.”

That broke something.

He grabbed my hair, wrapped it tight around his fist, and yanked my head back just enough to bare my throat. Then he started pounding into me. Hard. Faster than before. Deep, punishing thrusts that shoved my body against the wall with every stroke.

I could barely breathe.

And I didn’t want to.

The sound of skin slapping skin was obscene. Wet. Loud. My pussy was soaked... his cock dragging slick with every motion, hitting that spot again and again, pushing me toward a second orgasm before the first had even fully faded.

His hand slid between my thighs again, fingers rubbing fast, merciless circles over my clit.

“Cum again,” he gritted. “Want to feel you break on me.”

I shook my head, eyes watering. “Too soon — fuck — it’s too much — ”

“Then cry.”

I whimpered. Loud. Guttural.

Because I did break.

My body clenched around him like a vice, coming again so hard my knees buckled. I would’ve collapsed if he hadn’t pinned me there... hand around my neck, hips holding me up as I fell apart for him all over again.

And still... he didn’t stop.

He fucked me through it. Through the shaking, the gasping, the breathless sobs of overstimulation and bliss and need.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice cracked and desperate. “You take it so good. Still so tight. So fucking wet.”

He grabbed both of my wrists and yanked them behind me, holding them together at the small of my back with one hand. I was fully restrained... nothing but a gasping mess against the wall, hips bruised, back arched, tits heaving.

“God, look at you,” he breathed. “Fucking made for me.”

He slammed in harder. Rougher. I could feel how close he was... how each thrust was getting sloppier, more erratic, his breath ragged, his rhythm wild.

He buried himself deep with a growl. Held it. His cock throbbing inside me.

But he didn’t cum.

He pulled out suddenly… leaving me empty and gasping and flipped me around to face him.

I barely had time to balance before he was lifting me. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he carried me to the couch like I weighed nothing.

We fell into it together, him on top, cock notching back at my entrance.

“You want more?” he asked, voice sharp, hand fisting in my hair again. “You want to keep being my dirty little secret?”

I stared up at him, flushed and panting, lips swollen. “Yes.”

He slammed back into me so hard the couch creaked under us.

This time was even filthier.

He fucked me like he wanted to imprint me into the cushions. My legs fell open wider, his hands pinning them down by the thighs as he drove into me again and again. The wet sounds were obscene. His cock so deep it felt like he was in my throat.

“Touch yourself,” he growled.

I reached down, fingers finding my clit, rubbing fast.

He watched. Eyes locked on the way my pussy squeezed around him.

“Good girl,” he hissed. “You gonna cum again for me?”

I nodded frantically. “Close. So close.”

He grabbed my face, forced me to look at him. “You cum when I say. Not before.”

“Please,” I gasped.

“Not yet.”

He slowed his thrusts. Deepened them. Forced me to the edge and held me there.

I whined, body trembling.

“Now.”

That was all it took.

I came again, screaming his name, legs kicking, pussy spasming around his cock. My whole body arched off the couch, eyes rolled back.

He thrust twice more... and then finally... finally let go.

With a broken groan, he slammed deep and came hard. Cock twitching. Filling me again with thick, hot cum. So much of it I could feel it spill out around his length as he stayed buried to the hilt.

Neither of us moved.

He collapsed on top of me, still pulsing inside, our bodies slick with sweat and sex and everything we tried to forget.

Minutes passed.

He pulled back slowly, watching as his cum leaked out of me, dripping down onto the couch.

I didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

He grabbed a towel from the table, wiped me clean with more care than I expected. Then leaned down, pressed his forehead to mine.

“I told myself this wouldn’t happen again.”

I blinked up at him. “You always say that.”

He sighed.

“I mean it this time.”

I didn’t answer.

Because we both knew the truth.

I’d take it again.

And he’d come back.

Because I was the only thing in his life that didn’t break when he fucked it.

It's time you learned how to beg properly. It's too important not to know.

She looked confused, but I expected that. She always gets nervous when she thinks she's doing something the wrong way, but I didn't mean to make her nervous. I smiled after I said it to try and calm her. "You've done nothing wrong baby girl, promise. Your begs are always so beautiful, they're such a turn on. But there is one specific way you will need to start doing some of your begs. Come here, sit in my lap, lets talk about it."

She shuffled over, unsure of what was happening. "You're sure I've done nothing wrong? I just can't help it, when you get me close like that, my pussy gets sooo desperate, the begs just escape my lips..." she sits down, and without even being asked places her legs to be spread around mine as she sits on my lap. I don't even think it's a conscious effort, she just knows I like when she's available to me.

I smile bigger and nod, my hands trialing along her sides and hips very slowly. She was dressed for me all cute, her t-shirt a little loose but still showed her figure, her skirt hiding that underneath was a wet pair of panties. It was always like that now, 3 weeks of no cumming does that to any girl. "I promised, didn't I? So no more thoughts about it, you've done nothing wrong. If you continue to think you did, I'll have to make your brain give up all thoughts before I even explain what I'm trying to teach you, silly girl." I watch her shudder at the words; she had been edged HARD the night before, and had barely recovered this morning for the last couple hours. She also knew she had to go see her friends tonight, and wasn't sure she'd be able to handle being THAT pent up for a night out.

"Then what do you mean? I promise that my begs aren't me trying to disobey, just tell me and I'll correct it." Her eyes brighten as she realizes this isn't a correction for wrong doing but rather for improvement. Her denial has truly changed her mindset about always trying her best to be as amazing as she can for me.

I nod, and one hand moves up to massage her scalp and play with her hair, the other resting on her thigh. I watch her relax more as I do. "I already love your begs as it is. I think its incredible that you get sooo worked up for me. But, I think its time that you understand how when you beg for an orgasm, it's trying to take away that pleasure from me. And as you know, your pleasure is always mine. I own it. So, there will be times that you need to beg not to have your orgasm, but instead beg for the proper use of your orgasm. What way do you think that is?" I pause for a moment, my hand on her thigh tightening just a tiny bit to make sure she pays attention.

She doesn't answer right away. She wants to get it right the first time so so bad. "I...I'm not sure? Don't you already get all that pleasure from saying no? Is it not the act of denial that makes you happy?" She looks nervous again, but this time her hips move a little bit forward and back, like she's trying to think more about what could be done to her and her body is reacting to it.

"Oh very much so baby girl! Telling you no, controlling every inch of you, it's so so amazing. But, the other side of this is why you enjoy it. And as you've told me before, you LOVE how it makes you feel dedicated to my pleasure. How you feel so fulfilled knowing you're being enjoyed so thoroughly. Yet, at the very end, before being told no, you beg to cum...even though you know I don't want you to. And I understand why. A silly girl can't help it when her body is just soooo desperate. I even don't mind that you ask. Most of the time. But, there's a very specific time that you need to reconsider those types of begs. Think hard of when you might need to think about your dedication to me." I start running my hand along her thigh, kissing her neck soft after I finish. She's just too adorable, I can't help but need to enjoy her a little bit while she sits here with me.

She thinks again, and I let her do so for a minute or two. Her silence is truly a testament to trying to get it right, but even I know its not fair. Its a question on the test she didn't study for. But I am a fair teacher, I chuckle to myself.

"I...I think I understand. Its because last night, when you finally...finally..." she always gets shy with the dirty words if she's not in the throws of being edged, "finally pushed in your cock into me, I didn't say thank you. How you taught me. To always appreciate serving you, serving my purpose. I kept begging to cum on it instead." She looks down, and its a mix of shame but also surprise at her own behavior. She was always so insightful once given the chance to think about it.

I lead my hand up her skirt and tease along her leg and hip where they join, smiling proudly. "VERY good baby girl, I knew you would understand. After all, if you're mine to truly take what I need, why would you be begging for YOUR orgasm for yourself? At that moment, don't you exist for me?" I run my finger along her panties, the damp spot pressed against and I feel her getting just a little more messy as I do.

She gasps and nods, but protests a little, "But, I can't help it!! I had been edged TEN TIMES. You felt too good!! And then you took your time, went SO slow, it made me go crazy!!" She bucks her hips into my fingers just a little, trying to be subtle so she doesn't get in trouble for stealing touches. I let it go for now.

I shake my head a little, "Did I ask for an excuse, baby girl? You know the rules. It's never SO bad that you give up your manners. And I would argue that it is bad manners to ignore my pleasure and beg for yours so profusely. But don't worry. I have a solution. And I can show it to you. Hop down. Skirt and panties off. Now."

She blushes, but she doesn't disobey. She knows she's riding a thin line of learning something new, but also being corrected. She doesn't want to seem unappreciative for the lesson. She hurriedly does as told, and then stands there. She smiles a little because she knows how damn gorgeous I find her, and the hungry look in my eyes when she is in front of me like this. She makes a show of bending over to pick up the discarded clothes and put them away neatly before coming back.

"Such a good girl for me. Now, you look like you're already a little wet, but lets make extra sure. Climb onto the bed. Let me use my tongue a little bit." You would have thought I had told her she won the lottery. I blinked and there she was, beaming with joy. I get between her legs and kiss along her inner thighs, reaching her pretty pussy but ignoring it for now. Kissing along her hips, her tummy, adoring her entire figure. She knew I wanted every inch. She was to be reminded.

She squirmed under me, being patient but her pussy gushed with excitement. I took my time, my tongue enjoying every drop. She moaned like a toy in heat when I reached her clit. She bucked into my face. I grabbed her hips and pinned them down. Reminder her that she is to stay still unless told otherwise. She whined, but obeyed. She would always obey, even if she hated it.

A few minutes in, not quite even an edge, I stop, much to her chagrin. However, her tune quickly changes as I undo my belt and line up with her freshly prepared pussy. I rub it up and down without going in. "Is it still just soooo needy from last night? You have been trying to ignore it all morning because you wanted to be 'normal' tonight, but the moment you think you'll get cock that goes out the window, doesn't it." She nods and whines again. "Do not beg. Not until told. Just let yourself be enjoyed." She nods, wordlessly humping up at the thing she needs.

I slowly, slowly enter. I make sure she feels every centimeter. I let her squeeze on it. I lay to be on her as I slowly push in and out. Holding her close. Kissing her neck and chest as she squirms under me. I can tell she wants more. Faster. Harder. But she's not getting it yet. But I say something that surprises her more. "Reach down. You may rub your clit for me."

She yelps almost in shock, but before I can take it away shoots her hand down there. She moans loud, like the ache was being dealt with for the first time in weeks. Normally she's hands off so I can do it or so I can use a toy, but when she does it she can be as fast or slow as she wants. She feels that edge coming fast as she abused her clit. I kiss her lips and can feel and hear how she got there so fast today. I smile against her lips because of how proud I am that she stopped at the edge without even being told, that she learned that so dutifully.

She looks up with hers, pleading, begging for more. But she doesnt say a word. She knows better. She focuses on squeezing my cock. Her legs wrapped around me. But no begging, no matter how fucking bad it gets.

I speed up when I know she's on edge. I didn't say I'd make this easy. Faster. Harder. Fuck she feels so good. God I love it. I lean down. "You keep this up baby girl and I'll be right at the edge with you soon." She smiles big. Giggles loud. Like she's drunk on it. God I love her giggles. I feel myself getting closer. I slow down a little so I don't get too excited.

"Time to beg baby girl. But this time, you'll beg properly. Beg to give me your orgasm. Beg to give that pleasure to me. For your orgasm to become mine. To add your pleasure to my own, even if it means getting none yourself. You do not cum. Your orgasms are meant for me. So beg for me to take it from you and add it to mine. Do it. Now."

She twitches under me. I feel her squeeze. HARD. Like her entire world was tilting and she realized her purpose in life again. It makes me groan. My noise snaps her out of it.

"Oh god. Please daddy. Please use my orgasm. Please take it away from me. I never want to cum again, I only want you to have it. My orgasms are for making you cum, please god don't make me cum, take it from me, don't let me have it!!!"

She feels my cock swell. No words needed. It worked. And then my cum, deep as it can go. Fuck it felt SO good. Her orgasm. It made me cum, her orgasm. She knew it. I knew it. We both were happier for it. She didn't need to cum because they existed for me, for me to physically enjoy.

I laid with her, panting. Pulling out. Snuggled up immediately. Not our most intense session, for sure. But a very important one. I pet her cheek. I smile. "Does my baby girl understand now? Why when you're helping me feel good you beg differently?" She nods. Her brain isn't fully mush. But she doesn't want to try too many words either. We bask in each other's pleasure. Happier to have taught and learned that lesson.

Begging is so so important, she thinks. Happier to know the proper way to do it. A lesson she won't forget any time soon.

I interrupt her thoughts. "That was the easy one baby girl. Next time, you'll do the same thing, after a very long edging session. You better be prepared." A whine. Her legs kicking a little from the frustration of just the thought. But she smiled for me. I know she'll be perfect.

He is funny, charming and ever so handsome. Always seems to find the right things to say. He’s a charmer, a real bad boy. He’s also your boyfriend’s friend.

Your boyfriend had his friends from college over. It was a night of the usual football, beers and relieving the college days.

Speaking of the same old same old, my boyfriend got way too drunk and made a fool of himself. That indicates the night has come to an end. Everyone got him up to bed and found their way out. His friend stayed behind just a tad longer. He saw I was upset, he asked if I was okay. Then it all came out.

What started as a vent about his drinking problems turned into me just spilling out everything to him. Minutes turned into a few hours as he started deep into my eyes as I vented.

Between the eye contact and his smile making light of certain subjects to get a laugh out of me. I’m not gonna lie I was turned on. I felt myself getting wet and didn’t want to make a dumb choice I would regret.

I told him it was late and I should be getting to bed. He scrambled for his phone to call an uber. I told him just stay here we wouldn’t mind.

I got him set up on the couch and told him to make himself at home. As I turned away he did just that. He took his shirt off and was down to just his gray sweats. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a glance, I’d also be lying if I said it wasn’t the first glance I took all
Night.

I get up to my room and get comfortable the usual random tee shirt and my panties as I crawl into bed.

It didn’t take long for the tossing and turning to begin. Followed by my horniest thoughts. My hands wonder up my shirt grabbing my breasts. My back arches up as I take my nipples between my thumb and index fingers and start to roll them.

Then my hand slides down to my panties and the rubbing over them begins. I can’t stop thinking about this wild fantasy of him just taking me.

My inner dialogue starts You couldn’t possibly go down and hook up with him. Absolutely not. Then I think about texting him something random just to see if he’s up. I don’t.

I’m about to put the phone down surrender and go to bed wet and horny.

But then you hear a noise it’s him downstairs getting water..

I crack the door and sneak a peek, he hears me and turns around and says “ hey you, you’re still up?”

I rebound and say yeah actually I just needed some water to.

It’s dark in the room we only see each other’s silhouettes, he opens the fridge door and invites me over. The light from the fridge reveals him again just in those grey pair of sweats. I melt a little again.

I see his bulge and I can't keep my eyes away. Suddenly I realise I'm only wearing a thin t-shirt and my nipples are poking through, and my panties are soaking wet.

My eyes are stuck on his bulge, he goes to pass me a glass but I don’t notice cause my eyes are elsewhere.

He notices my nipples poking through and he coughs to bring my attention to the glass.

I go to take a sip and immediately my eyes go back to his cock.

Suddenly he makes it jump in his pants, I spit up the water and instantly blush and profusely apologize.

My eyes open even more I say “I didn't know you had such a big cock, and it's not even hard...”

I imagine it hard. In my hands. I realise I'm licking the glass

He grabs the glass out of my hands and puts it on the counter. I step in closer to you and shut the fridge door it’s back to dark.

He presses one finger to my mouth and shushes lightly as I step in. He whispers “next move is yours to take or not…”

My hands move by themselves, I'm not in control. They grab his cock over his sweatpants, and it feels so thick and hot. I feel I growing instantly in my hands. My pussy feels like it's melting.

He takes his finger off my lips and makes his cock pulse in my hands, I feel it throb. He puts his nose to my nose, our lips are close as can be without touching.

He says “nice move” as we let our lips touch.

Suddenly I'm kissing him and biting his lips while grabbing his cock harder, pushing it against my panties, which are dripping wet after touching myself for so long. I rub against his cock and feel it getting hard and up.

He says he can “feel the heat coming from my pussy” and “I know how wet you are, I have wanted this for so long” Im savoring every moment carefully planning my next steps. As we kiss I feel his hand go from the side of my face down my neck and he gently grabs my throat as we kiss. He takes his other hand and grab a handful of my ass and squeezes it to show me a little dominance. Exactly how I like it.

I love how he chokes me gently but firmly, making me gasp for air as he kisses me sloppily. I think about my bf for a second, feeling bad, but the sensation in my pussy overrides that thought. Anyway, he even mentioned inviting you to our bed a few times as a fantasy, so probably he wouldn't mind... Right? At least that’s what I tell myself to feel less guilty.

He can feel how much I am into it, in this moment am I thinking about him but the thought of having him all to myself is overriding any of the potential guilt. I am Turning the heat up slowly but surely making sure I don’t go to fast to both savor but also give us an out at anytime before we go to far.

The hotter and heavier it gets the more I start to think that he isn’t backing down. He uses the hand on my throat and the other on your ass to lift me up on the counter. As soon as my ass hits the counter my legs instantly spread.

That little thin shirt I am wearing rides up and I take his hand and place it on wet spot on my panties. He waste no time pushing my panties to the side slipping a finger in. One turns two and I start to melt on the counter as he pushes and pulls them in and out of me. My pussy is wet as it has ever been in quite some time. All you can hear is the sound of our suppressed heavy breathing and the noises of my wetness from my dripping cunt.

I spread my legs wider and as I start to cum I bite his ear and whisper “take me”

He then slides his hands up my waist and slides my panties down dropping them to the floor. They were so soaked they actually made a noise when they hit.

I spread my legs and rub my pussy for him and ask if he is ready. He says “ you have no clue”

I feel him step into my taking the tip of his thick cock slapping and rubbing on my clit before he enters.

I feel a rush as he starts to push it in. I feel my legs slide open more on the counter top, my eyes roll back to my head.

My tight pussy is gripping onto his cock perfect like we were a match made in heaven. He starts slow, we both want it go faster but we both understand the unspoken assignment of staying quiet. He is digging into me slow, deep and passionate stokes. I am biting into his collarbone trying to not let my whimpers fill the house.

He starts to get into a rhythm and I am just simply along for the ride. I start to squeeze my pussy lips on his cock clenching on to it. I wrap my legs around his back. He looks at me and says “you don’t wanna do that or I might not make it out”

I push my hips into his next thrust and say “who said I wanted you to pull out”

I feel his cock tighten up I know he is close now and I have him right where I want him.

I moan and talk dirty to him. The nastier I get the deeper he goes. Then it happens..

We return nose to nose, he looks at me while he catches his breath. Best glass of water ever.

Read Back (part 2 of 2)

Continued from part 1.

The two weeks were their own punishment and he had built them that way.

The deal, unspoken but total, was that nothing happened until the paddle came. I had wanted stricter and he had given me stricter in the one form I had not thought to be afraid of, which was nothing at all. For three years when I crossed a line there had been a consequence and then it was over, paid, gone, and I had come to lean on that the way you lean on a handrail without thinking about it. Now there was no handrail. I would do a thing, and he would note it, and nothing would happen, and the thing would just sit there between us accruing.

I tested it, because I am who I am.

The first Tuesday I left the bag on the stairs again. Right where I'd left it the first time, same step, and I didn't even text him, I just left it, and waited. He came up in the dark and I heard him stop, and I heard him pick it up, and he came into the kitchen and set it on the chair by the door, not the table this time, the chair, where it goes, and he said, "You'll want to put that away before you forget it's there," and he went and washed his hands for dinner. Nothing. He gave me nothing. I had thrown a rock in a pond and watched it not make a ring.

"That's it?" I said, which is a cousin of is that all, and which told both of us I had learned exactly nothing yet.

"That's it," he said. "It's on the chair."

"You're not going to do anything?"

"I'm going to eat dinner." He looked at me then, mild, a man reading a gauge that was behaving predictably. "The thing you're asking for is in Vermont. You bought it. When it gets here, we'll use it. Until then you can leave your bag wherever you want. Doesn't change the appointment. It also doesn't change that I'll remember this conversation."

The appointment. He called it the appointment.

That Saturday I found him on his knees on the back steps with a credit card. There is a crack in the second tread, concrete, that has been there since we moved in, and he had the edge of the card down in it and was reading the depth off the embossed numbers like a ruler, and then he took the pencil from behind his ear and wrote on the riser, under last spring's number, the new one. It was the same. He wrote it anyway.

"You'd inspect a sandwich before you ate it," I said from the door.

"I did," he said, not looking up. "It was fine."

"You're going to measure that crack until one of us dies." I don't know what I was doing.

"That's the idea." He blew the dust out of it. "Things don't tell you they're getting worse. You have to ask. Not like with people, who should say so."

Ouch.

I leaned on the door frame with my coffee from the Dunkin on Dot Ave and watched him put the card back in his wallet, and I wanted to put my hands on the back of his neck and I wanted to throw the coffee at him, and I said, because I could not stand how calm he was, "Big talk for a guy who hangs off bridges for a living."

He looked up at me then. Just looked, with the pencil in his hand and the October sun on the steps.

"Six days, Ness," he said. "Then you can say whatever you want. You'll remember you said that too."

He went back to the crack. I went inside and stood in the kitchen and had nowhere to put any of it. I went to bed furious and lay there and realized about an hour in that the fury was the most alive I'd felt in six months, and that he had done that on purpose too, and I did not know whether to love him or throw something.

The thing I did not expect about the two weeks was this. We still had sex. I had assumed, without ever saying it, that he would withhold all of it, that I would be sent to the far country entire, and that the spanking and the sex were the same tap and he would turn the whole tap off. He didn't. The second Thursday he reached for me in the dark the way he does, and it was good, it was him, his hands and his weight and his mouth at my ear, and when it was over I lay there in the dark and understood something that embarrassed me to understand.

They were not the same tap. I had been treating them like the same tap for three years. I had been using the one to get to the other, running the spanking the way you run a red light you've timed, to get to the holding and the closeness on the far side of it, and now that he had separated them, now that he gave me the closeness freely and kept the other thing locked behind a date, I could feel the shape of what I had actually been after, and it was not the sex, I could have the sex, he was handing me the sex. It was the other thing. It was being made to stop. I lay there with his arm over me, perfectly loved, perfectly held, and still hungry for the thing in Vermont, and I finally understood that they had always been two different hungers and I had been feeding one with the other and wondering why I was never full.

I didn't tell him that. I was saving it. I am a person who saves the truth for when it costs the most to say, which is a flaw, and which is half of what this whole story is about.

The storm came in the second week.

A nor'easter, the real thing, three days of it, the kind that comes up the coast and sits on the harbor and throws the ocean at the windows. The schools let out early. Conor couldn't work, you don't hang a man off a bridge in forty knot gusts, so he was home, restless, doing every small fix in the apartment he'd been saving, and I was home, and the package was somewhere between Vermont and me, and I checked the tracking the way I used to check nothing, the way a teenager checks a phone. It updated once on Monday and then it said, for two days, in that flat carrier language, Delayed, weather. I stood at the kitchen window on my lunch, working from home, supposedly transcribing a deposition, and I watched the rain come sideways off the harbor and I refreshed a shipping page, and Conor came up behind me and looked over my shoulder at what was on the screen and said, "Watching the pot," and went back to rehanging a cabinet door, and I wanted to die.

Mrs. Flaherty downstairs lost her power for a night when a branch took the line on her side of the building, and Conor went down with a flashlight and the camp lantern and sat with her until the power company came, because that is the kind of thing he does without being asked, and I brought down a thermos of tea and the three of us sat in her front room by lantern light while the storm went, and she told us about the blizzard of seventy eight and the one before that, and at one point she put her hand on my knee and said, "He's a good one, your fella. Steady." And I said yes. And she looked at me a beat longer than the sentence needed, the way old women do, the way that makes you feel like the floor is glass and they can see the apartment below, and she said, "You hold onto steady. Everything else you can get anywhere." And I thought about the fourteen inch walnut paddle with the holes, somewhere out on a dark road between here and Vermont, delayed, weather, and I said yes ma'am, I will.

The box came on a Friday.

The storm had blown through and the sky was that scrubbed hard blue you get after, and I was home, and the truck pulled up, and I watched the man carry it up our walk, a long flat box, light, he carried it like it was nothing because to him it was nothing, and he left it leaning against our downstairs door, and I had to go down and get it and carry it up past Mrs. Flaherty's, where her radio was going, the oldies, and up our own stairs, both flights, with the box in both hands, and let myself into the empty apartment, because Conor was back at work now, the storm was over, he was a hundred feet over the Neponset finding what the wind had loosened, and I was alone with it.

I took it out onto the back porch. I don't know why the porch. It felt like a thing that shouldn't happen in the kitchen where we eat. I knelt down on the boards with the box and I opened it, and inside was brown paper, and inside the brown paper was the paddle, and I lifted it out.

It was heavier than the picture. That was the first thing, the weight of it, walnut is a dense wood and fourteen inches of it has a heft that a picture cannot give you, and it sat in my two hands with a seriousness that made my mouth go dry. The grain ran the length of it, dark and light, and the man had finished it so smooth that it caught the after storm light like water, and there was the row of holes, eight of them, drilled clean through, and I remembered the sentence, reduces drag and increases sting, and I ran my thumb along the edge of it, and there was no edge, he'd rounded it, smooth as the rail Conor built, and that frightened me more than a rough one would have, because a rough one you could dismiss as a mistake and this one was made, on purpose, by a man who knew exactly what it was for.

I did the thing you do. I tried it on my own hand. I held it by the handle and I brought it down soft against my own palm, and even soft it had a flat hard authority that my hand did not like. I brought it down against my thigh, through my jeans, a little harder, and the sound of it on the denim was a flat clap that went out across the porch and came back off the house next door and I looked around like a thief, like Mrs. Flaherty was going to lean out and ask what I was doing, and I understood that when this landed on me bare, however many times, I was not going to be able to manage it, and that was the thing I had asked for, and I had gone and bought it, with my own card, and carried it up two flights, and I knelt there on the porch and I was so scared and so turned on and so relieved all at once that I could not have told you which was which, they were one thing.

I wrapped it back in the brown paper. I didn't want it sitting out. I carried it inside and I sat on the couch with it across my lap in the paper, and I sat there, for I don't know how long, long enough that the light changed, until I heard his truck in the street.

He saw it the second he came in. Of course he did. He sees the hairline in the steel; he was not going to miss a wrapped board across my knees. He set his bag on the chair where it goes, and he washed his hands at the kitchen sink the way he does before anything, before dinner, before me, before this, and he dried them on the towel, and he came and stood in front of me.

"It came," he said.

"Yeah." I had a hard time speaking the word.

"Show me."

I unwrapped it. I held it out across my two hands, the way you present a thing, and he took it from me, and he did the thing I knew he would do, the thing that is him all the way down, he turned it over and looked at the grain and ran his thumb down the rounded edge checking the work, feeling for a flaw, and found none, because the Vermont man was good, and I watched my careful bridge inspector approve of the craftsmanship of the thing he was about to use on me and I thought I might die right there on the couch before he'd even started.

"Walnut," he said. "With holes."

"You said like you mean it. I thought this was right."

Something moved at the corner of his mouth, not a smile, but a near thing, the first warmth I'd seen in two weeks, and it was gone as fast as it came, and he set the paddle down on the kitchen table, flat, where we could both see it.

"Stand up," he said.

I stood up. And then, because I am who I am, because I had two weeks of nothing in me and a storm's worth of waiting and I did not know how to walk through a door without poking it, I said, "You sure you remember how? It's been a while."

He looked at me.

"I checked on Mrs. Flaherty," he said. "She's at her sister's in Quincy till Sunday. I drove her Thursday, once the roads were clear." He let that sit. "So you're going to make whatever noise is needed. Nobody's under us."

And that, the fact that he had thought of it, had planned two weeks out that there would be nobody below to hear me, had driven an old woman to Quincy to clear the building, did more to me than any order could have. He had been getting ready. The whole two weeks I thought was nothing, he had been getting ready. And this wasn't going to be gentle.

"Okay," I said, and the brat went out of my voice, and we both heard it go.

"Not yet," he said. "First you're going to stand there and I'm going to tell you some things, and you're going to listen, because this is the part that matters and you've been skipping it for six months."

I stood. He didn't pace. He stood across from me by the table with the paddle on it, and he talked, and he did not raise his voice once, and every word had the edge on it, the planed edge, and he did not have a note and he did not need one.

"March," he said. "Your mother's birthday, you forgot to call and then you lied to her that your phone died, and you felt bad enough that you told me, and I took you over my knee, and you cried, and I thought that was you being sorry." He paused. "Were you?"

"Partly."

"Partly." He nodded, like a number confirmed. "April. You put in for the Pru garage spot that costs the earth without telling me and we couldn't make rent that month till the fifth, and we handled it, and you cried on my knee over it, and I held you and told you it was done." His jaw worked. "That one you timed to get it ended sooner. I could tell you the night, I just didn't know what I was looking at."

"Conor."

"I'm not done. June. The thing you said to Danny's wife at the cookout that you knew was going to land wrong and said anyway. July." He stopped on July. "July's the one I keep coming back to. July you sat on the back porch and told me you'd scheduled the exam for October, and I believed you so completely that I called a man in New Hampshire the next morning and turned down six months of work. You didn't cry that time. You didn't have to. That one you didn't even have to run, I ran it for you." He looked at me. "And then last Sunday, right out there, you told me to hit you harder so you wouldn't have to pretend. You want to say that back to me? The way you said it?"

This is where my job walked into my living room, because I knew what he was doing before he finished asking, and I could not not do it, it is wired into me, somebody asks for a read back and I give it clean, flat, verbatim, it is the deepest groove I have.

"Maybe if you hit harder," I said, in the flat voice I use for the record, "I wouldn't have to pretend."

It was awful to hear it in my own courtroom voice. It was worse than the first time. He had known it would be; he knows what I do for a living, he had reached into the one skill I am proudest of and turned it around so it was pointed at me, and I stood in my own kitchen and read my cruelty back into the record and my face was wet before I got to the end of the sentence.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "That one I'm going to answer."

He pulled a chair back from the table, lifted it a few inches from the floor, and set it down, hard. He sat down in the chair, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. He picked the paddle up off the table and set it across his own knee for a second, and then leaned it against the table leg within reach, and he looked up at me, and whatever had been behind glass for two weeks was not behind glass anymore, it was all the way in the room, and it was not anger, or not only, it was something that had been scared for two weeks and had decided to stop being scared.

"You won't understand this until I say it," he said. "I wasn't going to get rid of the rules because you made me mad. I was going to get rid of them because for two weeks I thought I'd been fooling myself that I could take care of you at all. You handed me something I couldn't think my way through, and it about killed me, because that's the only way I know how to love anybody, is to find the weak spot before it goes, and you'd been hiding the weak spot from me on purpose. On purpose!" He breathed. "So I'm going to do this one like I mean it, because you asked me to and because you need it and because I need to know I still can. And I will mean it. And when it's done, we're both going to know it was real, because you're not going to be able to make it anything else. This is going to be a hard lesson for both of us. Come here. Now."

I came. He took me by the wrist and brought me down over his knee, in my jeans still, and I went down into the familiar shape of it, his thigh under my hips, his arm coming across my back, and it was the first spanking position in three years that frightened me, because everything leading up to it had been different, and because the paddle was leaning on the table leg six inches from my face where I could see it.

"We start with my hand," he said, "so you remember I've got one. And I'm going to talk the whole time, and you're going to hear every word, because I'm not going to stop and wait for you to make a sound. There's no sound tonight that ends this. Am I clear, Ness? It ends when I say."

"Y.... yes sir."

And then he started, hard, harder than he had ever started with his hand, no slow build, no settling in, over the jeans but with his full arm, and I understood in the first three that I had never actually been spanked by this man at the top of his ability, that for three years I had been getting a calibrated version, a careful version, the version a careful man gives, and that he had been holding the real thing back the whole time out of the same carefulness that measures a crack in something, and that he had decided tonight to stop holding it back, and it was a different thing entirely.

"March," he said, and brought it down. "April." Down. "June. July." He was not counting strokes, he was counting the months, laying one down for each thing I'd run past him, and his hand was like the flat of a board even through the denim and I was crying before he got through the list the first time, not the timed way, I couldn't have timed it if I tried, he had taken the clock away from me. I gasped and yelped against it.

"I can't hear you trying to shorten this," he said, close, not cruel, almost wondering. "First time in a long time I can't hear it."

"You can't," I said, into the air, and it came out broken, and it was the truest thing I'd said in six months.

He stood me up. He did it the way he does everything, decisive, both hands, up onto my feet in front of him, and my jeans were still up and my face was a mess and I thought for one confused second it was over and that it had been almost gentle, and then he reached up and undid the button of my jeans himself, and drew the zipper down, and took them down to my knees in one motion, and the panties with the waistband of the jeans caught and he left the panties, he left them, and he put me back down over his knee with my jeans at my knees and the panties still up, and the air of the kitchen on the backs of my thighs told me how far from done we were.

"Now the part where I stop being careful," he said, and took the panties down himself, slow, and I heard myself make a sound that had no performance in it anywhere, and he started again on the bare, and there was no comparing it to the denim, and he talked the whole way through it exactly as he'd promised.

"You're going to take that exam in the spring," he said, between, his hand falling steady and awful. "I already looked it up. Registration opens in January. You're going to sit at that table and sign up in front of me and I'm going to watch you do it." Down. "And you're going to apply to the next federal posting that opens, and if you don't get it you don't get it, but you are not going to buy your way out of trying with my New Hampshire money again, do you hear me." Down. "Say you hear me, Ness!"

"I hear you," I sobbed, and I did, I heard every word, I have never heard anything more clearly in my life.

He brought me up off his knee when the bare hand had my whole backside hot and I had stopped being able to form a sentence, and he stood me up, and he didn't let me step out of the jeans, he left them at my knees so I had to stand there small and hobbled in my own kitchen, and he pointed at the floor in front of the table.

"Stand there," he said. "Clothes off. All of it. And then you're going to go get the clothespins off the line bag, and bring me two, and hand them to me, and then you're going to ask me for the paddle by its name, and I'm going to give you what you came home with and exactly what you deserve."

I took my clothes off in the middle of the kitchen with him watching, which I had never done, not like that, not standing in the overhead light with my face wrecked and my backside on fire being looked at by a man who was not going to pretend he wasn't looking. The canvas bag of clothespins hangs by the porch door; we use them for the line, his work shirts, my things, they have been on that porch line since the first week we lived here and every ordinary day since, and I crossed the kitchen naked and took two out of the bag, wooden ones, the spring kind, and I held them and understood what they were for, and my hands shook, and I carried them back and put them in his open hand.

"Please," I said, and my voice cracked in a way I didn't plan. "Please paddle me, sir. Please."

"With what."

"The paddle. The one I bought." I was shaking. "Please use it on me. Like you mean it. I'm scared of it." And then, because it was true and I had been saving it for when it cost the most, "That's why I got that one. Because I was scared of it."

He looked at me for a long moment, naked and asking in my own kitchen, and the last of the glass went, all of it, and his eyes were not hard, they were the thing underneath hard, and he said, "Good girl," which he had not said in two weeks, and I nearly went down at the knees.

"And in this house, when you get paddled, how does it happen?"

"On my bare bottom." I felt my entire core convulse and tremble with the words.

He set the clothespins on me himself, one and then the other, and I will not pretend I was brave about it, I was not, I made noise and he did not rush and he did not go easy, and when they were on he gave me a second to find my breath around them and then he picked the paddle up off the table. He flicked them gently with the edge of the paddle and I gasped and flinched away from him.

"Over my knee," he said. "Hands on the floor or around my ankle, not back here. If your hand comes back I stop and we start the count over. You understand how that works?"

"Yes."

"Twenty," he said. "Because that's a real number and you're done with pretend ones. You count them. After each one, out loud, in your regular voice, not your work voice. I want Nessa counting, not the court reporter. If I hear the flat voice we stop till I get the real one."

And that undid me more than anything else he'd said, because he knew, he had always known, that I hide in the flat voice, that the read back is where I go to not feel the thing, and he had just closed that door too, he had closed every door I had, there was nowhere left to go but through it.

He put me over his knee. The clothespins pulled when I came down over his thigh, a bright line of it, and I gasped, and he waited until I'd settled, his free hand flat and warm on the small of my back, and he laid the paddle across me once, cool and flat and smooth, and I felt the eight holes against my skin, and I shut my eyes and clenched my hands.

"I've got you," he said, which he says, which he has always said, but it landed different now because he'd earned it back. "Here we go."

The first one took the air out of me. There is no describing a thing you have not felt and I had not felt this; the walnut came down flat and hard and the holes did what the man in Vermont said they'd do, and the sting was not like the hand, it was deeper and wider and it exploded across me, and it pulled the clothespins as I jerked, and the two pains met in the middle of me, and I screamed, in my kitchen, with nobody under us because he had seen to that, and I heard it go out across the empty building.

"I'm waiting for the count," he said.

"One," I said, and it came out as Nessa, not as the court reporter, there was no court reporter left in me, she had gone wherever the running goes when a thing finally stops you.

"Two," I said, when it came, because I had learned in one stroke that I could not get ahead of this, could not end it, could not reach the sound early because the sound was already real, he had bought, or rather I had bought and he had used, the one thing in the world I could not run from.

He did not go fast. He did what he does, he waited between them, he let each one land and bloom and let me come down just far enough to dread the next, and he talked, low, not the list anymore, just to me.

The third was lower, where the curve of me meets my thighs, and the sound of it was different there, flatter, and the sting had an edge on it that made my legs come up off the floor. "Three," I said, and it had two syllables in it. The fourth crossed the first, and that was the one that did it, the two heats meeting, and the clothespins pulled as I jerked, and the real crying started, the kind I had not done in that house in six months, the kind that comes up from under the floor of you.

"There she is," he said. "You asked for a real one."

"Four." I could barely get it out.

The fifth he waited on so long I thought he had stopped, and when it came I screamed, and the sixth came quicker, high on the left, and the seventh on the right to match it, and I was counting but I could not have told you my own address. Every one of them pulled the pins. Every one of them was walnut and eight holes and no drag and all sting, exactly as advertised.

By eight I had stopped performing so completely that I could not have performed if the house were on fire. By eight I was just a woman over a man's knee being paddled, crying the way you cry when something that has been clenched for a year finally lets go, and the clothespins pulled on every stroke, and it hurt, it genuinely hurt, there was nothing in it I liked in the moment and everything in it I had needed, and those are not the same and I finally knew the difference.

At twelve my hand came back. I didn't decide it, it just came, flew back to cover myself, and he caught it by the wrist, gently, and held it against the small of my back, and he stopped.

"That one didn't count," he said. "We're at twelve. Leave it there or I hold it. Your choice."

"Hold it," I said, sobbing. "Please hold it. I can't...."

So he held my wrist against my back with his free hand, which meant I was truly caught, truly held down, truly unable to do one thing about what was coming, and he gave me the rest like that, and being held down for it broke the last of me open, and somewhere around sixteen I said the thing, the real confession, the one I'd been saving since the Thursday in the dark.

"I've been using it," I said, into his leg, barely words. "The spanking. To get to what came after. I didn't even want the after for the after, I wanted, I wanted you to make me stop and I couldn't ask so I just, I kept doing things so you'd, I'm sorry, Conor, I'm sorry I made it fake, it wasn't you, you were real every time, it was me, I made it fake."

His hand stopped on me, flat and still, the paddle resting.

"I know," he said, and his voice wasn't steady, the careful man's voice had a crack in it I had never heard, hairline, the kind he finds in steel, the kind that means the thing is under load. "I know you did. We're fixing it now, sweetie. Four more. Take them."

He gave me the last four and I took them without my hand coming back, counting each one in my own breaking voice, and on twenty he set the paddle down on the floor and he was off the chair and down on the kitchen floor with me before I'd stopped shaking, gathering me up off his knee and down into his lap on the cool linoleum, and he took the clothespins off, one and then the other, which has its own white bright hurt, and I cried out and he said I know, I know, and he held the places with his warm hand until the blood came back, and he put his face down in my hair and I felt him shaking too, the careful man, trembling on his own kitchen floor holding me.

"I thought I'd lost it," he said into my hair. "The last two weeks. I thought I couldn't reach you anymore and I was going to have to let you go to somebody who could. I kept measuring it and I couldn't find the way out of it."

"You found it," I said. "You found it."

"Don't ever do that again," he said.

He ran a bath, not hot, warm going to cool, because hot is wrong on a fresh paddling and he knew that the way he knows everything about anything, and he sat on the bathroom floor beside the tub with his back against the wall and his hand in the water while I lay in it, not washing, just floating, and neither of us said much. Through the floor Mrs. Flaherty's apartment was dark and silent, empty, in Quincy, and I thought about him driving her there on Thursday and I started to cry again, the easy way this time, the overflow, and he didn't ask why, he just moved his wet hand to the back of my neck and left it there.

Later, in the bed, in the dark, it was not careful and it was not managed and there was not one second of it I was trying to speed up. He turned me onto my front first and put his mouth on the marks, every one of them, slow, which I had not known a person could do and which made me cry a different way, and then he turned me over and came into me with his hand under my hips where it hurt the most, holding me there against the soreness on purpose, and I let him. He was slow at the start and then he wasn't, and his mouth found my face and whispered to me how he loved me, and my hands went white in the sheets, and the soreness was under everything the whole time, every time I moved I felt what he'd done, and it turned over into the other thing the way he'd always promised me it could and I had never once let it, because I'd always been up at the ceiling watching the clock, and I wasn't at the ceiling, I was in the bed, in my body, in it, and when I went over the edge in pleasure he had his forehead against my neck and his whole weight on me and I held his head against me with both arms like something I'd found and wasn't giving back.

"You'll feel that in the morning," he said, after, not a question.

"Every time I sit down," I whimpered.

"Good." His thumb moved on my hip. "You pull up that exam page the minute it opens in January. At this table. I'll make coffee."

"You'll watch me do it."

"I'll watch you do it, yes."

Saturday morning the sky was that washed blue again and he made eggs, and I sat down at the kitchen table slow, with a catch in my breath, lowering myself the way you lower yourself into a bath you're not sure about, and he heard it and didn't turn around from the stove, but I saw his shoulders do a thing that on Conor is a laugh.

"Don't," I hissed.

"I didn't say anything."

"Your back said something."

I had my laptop open. The spring registration wasn't live yet, January, he knew that, I knew that, but there was another thing I could do that morning, and I did it. The Moakley posting was still up, closing in a week, and I could not apply, I didn't have the cert, but there was a field at the bottom, notify me of future openings, and I filled it in, my name, my email, the thing I had been too scared to want out loud, and I hit the button, and it was nothing, it was one small true reach with the muscle I never use, and I sat there with my heart going like I'd done something enormous.

My phone buzzed on the table, face up. We both looked at it. It was the handmade site, the woodworker, the automated thing they all send.

How was your order? Leave Josiah a review!

I looked at it for a second, this cheerful little machine asking me to rate the paddle currently responsible for the fact that I was sitting on half a dish towel I'd folded onto the chair, and I turned the phone face down on the table, and Conor set a plate of eggs in front of me and sat down across with his own, and he had seen the whole thing, the posting, the phone, all of it, he sees everything, and he didn't say a word about the exam or the marks or the two weeks.

He looked at the laptop, still open to the confirmation page, you'll be notified, and he looked at me, and he picked up his fork.

"Good," he said.

That was all. That was the whole thing. Good. A man who builds a rail so it holds his weight and then leans on it to be sure, telling me with one word that it had held.

"I signed up to be told," I said. "When the next one opens. I'll have the cert by then."

He nodded once, and started on his eggs, and under the table he put his hand on my knee, warm, flat, the hand that finds the problems and the hand that holds you down, the same hand, I'd finally learned it was the same hand, and he left it there, and I ate my breakfast slow and sore and entirely in my own body, and I did not try to manage one single second of it.

Read Back (part 1 of 2)

The bag was on the stairs because I put it there.

Conor has asked me not to leave it there about a hundred times, because the stairs in our place are steep and dark and somebody is going to break their neck on a work bag full of a steno machine and three pounds of transcripts, and the somebody is usually him, coming up in the dark after a day hanging off the underside of the Tobin Bridge. He is right about it. He is right about most things in a low, even, completely maddening way. So I set the bag down on the fourth step from the top, where the light from the kitchen doesn't reach, and I took a picture of it, and I texted him at work.

Guess what's on the stairs.

He was a hundred and thirty feet over the river at the time, on a rope, with a crack gauge in his teeth, so he did not answer for an hour. When he did it was one word.

Cute.

I knew exactly what I was doing. I am not a woman who leaves things in the wrong place by accident. I spend eight hours a day being the most careful person in a room full of lawyers, writing down every word every one of them says and none of my own, and I do not miss. When I leave a bag on the stairs it is because I want a reaction, and I knew what reaction I wanted, and I had been not getting it for about six months.

This is how we work, and it matters.

I'm Nessa. I am 29 and I am a court reporter at Suffolk Superior, which means I sit below the judge with a machine that has twenty two keys and I take down the official record, the thing that exists when memory doesn't, the thing the appeals turn on. I am good at it the way some people are good at piano. I can give a judge a read back of a four minute exchange in a flat voice without a breath wrong, and I have watched a lawyer's face change color when I did, because he thought he had said something else. I like that. I like being the one who has it exactly right.

The Thursday of the bag, for instance. Courtroom 906 at Pemberton Square, a slip and fall against a grocery chain, a plaintiff's lawyer named Feeney who talks with his hands. Around eleven the defense objected to something Feeney said he never said, and the judge looked down at me over her glasses and said, "Madam reporter, read it back," and I put my hands on the keys and read it. "Question. And at no point did you look at the floor. Answer. I looked. Question. You looked, or you glanced. Answer. I don't know what the difference is." Flat. No breath. Feeney's neck went red above his collar, because he'd said it exactly that way and had already decided in his head that he hadn't. The judge said thank you, and we went on. That is the whole job. People say things and then they remember them differently, and I am the one in the room who doesn't get to remember. I get to know.

I took the Red Line home from Park Street with my bag in my lap, out past Andrew and the beach, thinking about what I was going to do with it.

Conor is 36 and he inspects bridges. It doesn't sound romantic, but it is. He doesn't do it from an office. On a rope, in a harness, under the deck where nobody goes, running his hands and a flashlight over the steel looking for the hairline that becomes the hole that becomes the thing on the news. He is from Savin Hill, three triple deckers from the one we live in now, and he has the accent to prove it, and he is the most physically careful man I have ever met. He does not do anything fast. He measures a crack in our own back steps with the edge of a credit card and writes the number on the riser in pencil so he can see next spring if it grew. He replaced the whole porch rail in August instead of patching the one rotten post, because, he said, you don't patch the thing that keeps you from falling.

We have been together six years, living in this apartment four, and doing the other thing three.

I am tired of people being coy about it, so I will just say it. Conor spanks me. It started the way these things start, half a joke that wasn't a joke, and then a conversation in this kitchen with the lights off that took until two in the morning, and then rules. Real ones. He is not a man who does anything without doing it all the way, so when I told him, with my face hot, that I wanted someone to hold me to things, he took it as seriously as he takes a crack in a gusset plate. He made rules. He made me say them back. And for a long time it worked, which is to say I would do something I shouldn't, and he would take me over his knee in the front room, and it would hurt, and I would cry, and he would hold me after, and I would feel like the ground had come back under my feet.

There was a part I had not told him.

It had stopped working. Not the sex of it, that was fine, better than fine for the most part. But as a thing that changed what I did, it had quietly gone dead, and I was the only one who knew, because I had made sure of it. I knew his tells now. I knew that his hand came down slower when he was near done, that he waited for a particular sound from me, a particular giving up, and that when he heard it he stopped and gathered me in and it was over. And once I knew that, I could give him the sound. I could reach it early, cry the way he was listening for, and be done, and go do the exact same thing the next week. I had turned the one place in my life where I wasn't in control into a place where I was, and I had done it so smoothly that the man with the flashlight who finds the crack nobody else can find had not found it. It was a betrayal, and not only because I was manipulating him. I had been too lazy to say so, and I knew it.

So.... The bag on the stairs.

I set it there at five thirty, coming up. Mrs. Flaherty's door was open a crack on the first landing the way it always is, the oldies going, and she said through it, without showing her face, "I hear you two up there," and I stopped with one foot on the next step. I did not know which thing she meant. The laundry we fight about, the floor that creaks under the kitchen table, the other thing. I said, "Sorry, Mrs. Flaherty," and she said, "Don't be sorry. Just thought you should know I hear it," and the door clicked shut, and I went up the rest of the way with my face warm and put the bag on the fourth step from the top anyway.

He came up at seven with the bag in his hand. He did not trip on it. He is too careful to trip on a thing I put there for him to trip on; he had seen the picture. He set it on the kitchen table in front of me, not hard, and looked at it, and then at me.

"You want to tell me why my bag's in the middle of the table," I said, "or you want to eat first."

"It's your bag."

"It's a table. People eat here."

"Nessa."

"Conor."

He has a way of saying my name that is supposed to be the end of a conversation, and it used to be, and I had decided lately to treat it as the start of one. I was doing a lot of that. Poking him. Finding the soft place and pressing on it to see if anything pressed back. I didn't know yet that I was doing it because I was scared, I thought I was doing it because I was bored, which shows how far down the real thing was.

"You know where it goes," he said.

"I do know. That's what makes it interesting."

He looked at me for the length of time it takes to decide something, and I thought, here we go, finally, and part of me lit up like a kid. He pulled the chair out from the table, the hard one, and sat down in it, and he did not say the whole speech he usually says, he just looked at me and patted his knee once, and I went. Of course I went. I had set the whole thing up so I could go.

I draped over his lap the way I have a few hundred times, and he put his arm across my back, and he started, over my jeans. The first one was a flat clap through the denim, warm more than sharp, and the second landed on the other side the same way, and by the sixth the heat had joined up in the middle and the sting had started to mean something. It was good. It had always been good. And it was exactly, precisely, to the ounce, what I expected. That was the problem. There was not one thing in it I had not already lived. His hand found the same place. The sting came up the same way. And somewhere around the twentieth I heard myself make the sound, the real seeming one, right on schedule, and I felt him begin to slow, right on schedule, and I lay there over my boyfriend's knee with my face hot and thought, with a kind of despair I did not expect, I am running this. Even this. I am running this too and I'm ruining it for both of us.

So I did a stupid thing. I turned my head and I said, into the air, "Is that all?"

His hand stopped.

I should have left it. I understood that, even then. I had a door right there and I could have shut my mouth and gone through it. Instead I went looking for the soft place one more time.

"You missed a spot," I said.

He took his arm off my back. He helped me up, which he always does, he has never once dumped me off his knee, and he stood me in front of him and looked at me, and his face was not angry. That got under my skin worse than anger would have. He looked like a man reading a gauge he didn't like the number on.

"How long," he said.

"How long what."

"How long have you been faking it."

And there it was, out of his mouth, in his flat even bridge voice, the thing I had been sure he would never see. I felt the floor go. I have taken down testimony where a witness realizes mid sentence that the lawyer already has the document, already knows, and there is a specific silence that happens, and I have typed into that silence a hundred times, and I had never been the witness before.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, which is what everyone says, and which fooled no one, me included.

"Okay," he said, and he got up, and he went and started the water for pasta, and he didn't say anything else about it that night, and that was so much worse than if he had yelled that I lay awake until two staring at the ceiling listening to him breathe, the most careful man in Boston, who had just measured me and gotten a number he didn't like.

I made it three days.

I want to say I came clean out of integrity. The truth is I came clean because I could not stand the quiet. Conor quiet is a weather system. He wasn't cold, he made coffee, he kissed my head, he asked about my day. But something had gone behind glass, and I had put it there, and I could not get at it, and by Saturday I would have confessed to anything to make him look at me the regular way again.

He was out on the back porch when I broke. He had the rail off, the new one he'd built in August, because a bracket had worked loose in the first storm of the fall and he does not leave a thing half right. He was down on one knee with the drill, and I was handing him screws out of a coffee can, which is a thing we do, I hand him things as he fixes them, and it is one of my favorite parts of being alive and I had almost ruined it.

"Can I tell you something," I said, "and you don't fix it for a minute."

He put the drill down on the porch boards. That is Conor for you have my attention. He did not say anything. He is better at the quiet than I am, which is the whole story of us.

"I didn't register for the exam," I said.

The exam matters. There is a certification, the realtime one, the one where you write it clean enough to put on a screen live as people talk, no scoping after. I have been able to do the work for two years. I have not had the paper. And the paper matters right now in a way it never has before, because the federal court, the Moakley down on the waterfront, is hiring an official, a real one, salaried, with the benefits and the pension and the cases that make the national news, and the posting closes in three weeks, and it requires the cert. I told Conor in July I had scheduled the exam for October. I had told him that looking right at him across this porch.

I had not scheduled it. I had let the registration window close in September without doing one thing about it, and I had not been able to explain to myself why, and I still can't, except that wanting a thing that much and reaching for it are different muscles and I have one of them overbuilt and the other I have never used.

"When was it," he said.

"The window closed September twelfth."

"So it's done. For this cycle."

"The next test date's not till spring. After the posting closes." I made myself say the rest. "I can't apply to the Moakley without it. So I'm not applying."

He was quiet, turning a screw over in his fingers, and I knew what was in the quiet, and I wished he would just say it, and he did.

"I turned down Pelham," he said.

Pelham is a six month contract up in New Hampshire, a whole run of bridges on I-93, rope work, the kind with overtime and a per diem and a truck. He'd been offered it in August. It would have meant him gone four nights a week until spring, and it would have meant real money, the kind that moves a number, and he had turned it down, and I had been relieved, and I had told myself his reasons were his reasons.

"I turned it down," he said, "because you said with the Moakley raise we wouldn't need it, and I'd rather be home. So I called the guy and said no. On what you told me."

"I know."

"You didn't know, though. You already knew in July you weren't going to take that exam. Didn't you?"

And this is the thing about living with a man who finds the crack before it's a hole. He had found it. He had taken my sacrifice story and his own turned down contract and laid them next to each other and gotten the number, which was that I had spent his money, real money, six months of New Hampshire money, to buy myself out of having to try for a thing I wanted and was afraid of. I had not thought of it that way until he said it on the porch with the screw in his hand, and then I could not think of it any other way, and I have not been able to since.

"I didn't do it on purpose," I said.

"That's worse," he said, not mean, just true. "On purpose I could follow."

We sat with that. A gull went over toward the harbor. Somewhere below us Mrs. Flaherty's radio was going, the oldies station she keeps on all day, and I could hear the bass of it through the porch boards.

And then, because I could not stand how quiet he had gone, because the glass was coming down again and I would have done anything to stop it, I went looking for the soft place.

"Maybe if you hit harder," I said, "I wouldn't have to pretend."

I heard it leave me and I wanted it back before it landed. I have never wanted anything back the way I wanted that back. It is the cruelest thing I have ever said to a person I love, and I said it to make him flinch, because I would rather have had him flinch than keep looking at me the way he was looking at me, like a reading.

He didn't flinch. That was the terrible part. He set the screw down on the rail, lined up with the others, and he looked at me for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice had something in it I had not heard before. Not loud. Conor doesn't go loud. But there was an edge on it, the way there's an edge on a thing he's planed, and I felt it go across me.

"So is that what the crying's been," he said. "You faking it to end it?"

I didn't answer. That is a thing that happens to me, I who never run out of words, I who can give you back any sentence you've said, I had nothing.

"Three years," he said. "I thought I had you. Every week I thought, there, she's let it go, she's down, and I held you, and I meant it, every time, and you were up there the whole time counting." He wasn't asking. "Watching the clock on me and deciding when you were done."

"Not every time," I said, which was the worst possible thing, because it confirmed all of it.

He stood up. He left the rail where it was, half on, which I had never once seen him do. He went to the porch door and stood with his hand on the frame, his back to me, looking into the kitchen, and he said the thing I did not see coming, the thing that turned this from a bad afternoon into the two weeks that changed us.

"Then maybe we're done with it," he said.

"Done with what?"

"This. All of it. The rules. If it's a game you're running, I don't want to play it. I'm not going to be a guy who thinks he's taking care of somebody and he's really just the entertainment." He said it to the kitchen, not to me. "I'd rather just be your boyfriend and skip it."

What went through me when he said that is the whole reason for everything after. I had spent six months proving to myself that I had this handled, that I was in control of even this, and the second he offered to take it away I understood that I did not want it handled. I wanted it to handle me. I had been poking the bear to see if the bear was real, and the bear had just stood up and said, fine, I'll leave, and I was not relieved, I was terrified, and underneath the terror was the thing I had not let myself feel in six months, which was how badly I wanted to be made to feel it.

"No," I said.

He didn't turn around.

"Conor. No. Don't. I don't want that."

"You don't want what. Be specific. You're good at specific."

I was crying now, the real way, the way I had not let myself do in that house in half a year, and I hated that it took this to get it out of me, and I said the thing I had been circling for six months without knowing it. I became a silly girl caught in a lie.

"I want it to be real again. I want it to be something I can't run. I've been able to run everything my whole life and I am so tired, Conor, I am so tired of being the one in charge of whether it counts." I wiped my face with the back of my hand. "Your hand doesn't scare me anymore. That's the truth. I know it too well. I need something I can't get ahead of."

He turned around then. He looked at me for a while, and some of the glass was gone, not all of it, but some, and he said, carefully, the way he says everything, "Like what?"

And I heard myself say it. I had not planned it. It came up out of the place the truth comes up out of when you've finally stopped guarding it.

"Get a paddle," I said. "A real one. And use it on me like you mean it."

He didn't laugh. He didn't look away. He looked at me the way he looks at a number on a gauge, taking it in, deciding what it meant.

"No," he said, and my heart dropped, and then he finished it. "I'm not going to get it. You are."

"What?!"

"If you want this to be a thing you can't manage, then you don't get to sit home and have it show up. You're going to go find it. You're going to pick it out, and you're going to pay for it, and you're going to carry it into this house and put it in my hand and ask me for it." He came back and crouched down and picked up the drill, and set the last bracket, and spoke while he did it, not looking at me, which is how he says the things that cost him. "And it's the last time, Nessa. I mean that part. If you top from the bottom one more time after this, if I feel you lying about it even once, I'm not going to have the conversation again. We'll just be two people who live together. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Say it back."

I almost smiled, because it was so him, but I was too scared and too sad, and it was the first order he'd given me in six months that I could not see the bottom of.

"I go get it myself," I said. "I pick it and I pay for it and I carry it in and I ask you for it. And it's the last time you say this or it's over."

He tightened the last screw. He put his thumb on the rail and pushed, hard, the way he does, testing it with his weight, and it didn't move, and he stood up.

"Good," he said. "Now hand me the drill bit that rolled under your foot."

I looked down. It had rolled under my foot. I handed it to him, and he took it without a word, and that was the closest thing to normal I'd felt in four days, and I held onto it.

I thought it would be easy to buy a paddle. I was wrong about that, badly.

The first thing I did, that same night, was open my laptop and go to the obvious place, the everything store, and type the word in, and there were four hundred of them, next day, in a plain box, and I had it in the cart, and I was one click from done. And then I thought about Conor saying you don't get to sit home and have it show up, and I thought about him being able to tell, because he can always tell, and I closed the laptop. He would know. He would ask where it came from and I would have to say a cardboard box on the porch and it would be one more thing that arrived instead of a thing I did, and the whole point, the whole point he had built on purpose, was that I had to do it.

So Monday on my lunch I walked up to the kitchen store in the Prudential Center, the nice one, all copper pans and forty dollar spatulas, because I thought, a paddle is a wooden thing, a kitchen is full of wooden things, I will buy a cutting implement like a normal adult and nobody will know what it's for but me. I stood in front of a wall of wooden spoons and spatulas and pasta paddles and cheese boards for eleven minutes. I know it was eleven because I was early back from lunch by exactly that. There was a thing that was almost right, a flat beech serving paddle, and I picked it up, and it was too light, it had a hole drilled in the handle for hanging, it was a thing for lifting a pizza, and a girl who worked there, maybe twenty, came over and said, "That's one of my favorites, are you doing a charcuterie thing?" and I said yes, a charcuterie thing, and I put it down and I left and I bought a coffee I didn't want so the trip wouldn't be nothing.

I came home with nothing. Conor didn't ask. That was its own kind of pressure, him not asking.

Monday night I found it.

I was on the couch with the laptop and I had given up on stores and I typed the word into the handmade site, the one with the woodworkers, not really expecting anything, and there he was. A man in Vermont, a woodshop, a hundred and some reviews. He made them. Not pizza paddles. The thing itself, and he was not coy about what it was, the listing said what it was for in plain adult words, and I felt my face go hot sitting alone on my own couch in the dark. There were choices. Maple or walnut or oak. Twelve inches or fourteen or sixteen. Plain face or with a row of holes drilled through it, which the listing explained, in the same flat tone Conor would have used, reduces drag and increases sting. I read that sentence four times.

I sat there a long time. This was the first real choice. Up to now I had been carried, the offense and the confrontation and the sentence had all happened to me, but this was mine, I was choosing the thing that was going to be used on me, and there was nobody in the room, nobody watching which one I picked, which somehow made it worse. I could have everything gentle. I could pick the twelve inch maple, no holes, the mildest thing he made, and nobody would ever know I'd flinched.

I picked the fourteen inch walnut with the holes.

There was a reason, and it was not all brave. Part of it was that I was still a little bit the brat, still a little bit is that all, and I was not going to be the woman who ordered the training wheels. But part of it was truer than that. I picked the one I was afraid of because I had told Conor I needed a thing I couldn't get ahead of, and I was not going to sit alone in the dark and quietly buy my way back ahead of it on the very first choice. If I was doing this I was doing this. Plus it was pretty.

I had a question about it, something about the finish, and because I am apparently insane I typed it to a man who makes paddles for a living as if I were asking about a salad bowl.

Hi, is the oil on the walnut food safe? Just curious what you use.

He wrote back within the hour.

Mineral oil and beeswax, same as my cutting boards. Food safe, though I'd keep it out of the kitchen. Happy to burn initials into the handle for $4 if you want them. Josiah.

I sat on the couch and read that twice. Keep it out of the kitchen. I thought about Conor's initials burned into the handle of a thing he was going to use on me and could not breathe for a second.

No initials. Just the paddle. Thank you.

Will do. Fair warning, I'm about two weeks out on shipping. Hunting season, half my guys are gone. Appreciate your patience.

Two weeks.

I went into the kitchen where Conor was doing the dishes and I stood in the door and I said, "It's coming. Two weeks. The guy's backed up."

He didn't turn around from the sink. "Two weeks," he said.

"I could find a faster one."

"No," he said. "You picked it. That's the one." He rinsed a plate and set it in the rack. "Two weeks is fine. Gives you time to think about it."

Which, I came to understand over the following fourteen days, was the entire point, and was the cruelest thing he could possibly have said, and he knew it.

Continued in part 2.

“GODDAMMIT! WHERE IS IT?”

I exhale frustratedly and look up from my book as I listen to my roommate thrash around his room in search of something. As he continues loudly tossing things about, I take a deep breath and try to block it out so I can return to my studies.

“FUCK! IT’S NOT HERE!” he screams loudly, breaking my focus.

I let out an exasperated grunt, slam my book shut and toss it onto my bed, before storming out across the hall. I forcefully push open his door and exclaim “Can you please keep it down? I’m trying to read!”

I spot him on his hands and knees searching through a big cardboard box. All of his things are strewn about the room messily. He looks up to me frantically. “Sorry. I just really have to find this tonight and it’s just not here,” he says as he stands up and hops his way to the other side of the room and begins looking through more containers.

“Well. Can you tell me what it is you’re looking for? So I can help you find it and you can stop being so fucking loud.”

“Be my guest,” he responds, gesturing to the room around him. “I’m looking for a black box of Trojans,” he states while continuing to rummage around.

I cross my arms. “Trojans?”

“Yep.”

“Like the condoms?”

“Correct.”

“That’s what all this is about?”

“Yeah. I have a date tonight. And I’m not about to be illprepared.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Jesus Christ!” I turn around and storm out of the room and back over to mine. I quickly make my way over to my nightstand. I pull open the drawer and pull out a condom with a light blue wrapper, before returning back to his room. “If you needed a condom you could have just asked,” I say as I toss it over to him.

It hits him on his shoulder and drops to the floor. He turns and picks it up and looks at it for a moment, before looking up at me. “Not gonna work.” He flicks it back to me.

“What do you mean ‘not gonna work’?” I ask annoyedly.

“Too small,” he says as he opens a new box to begin digging through.

I begin to laugh. “Yeah okay. Too small. Sure,” I say, fully not believing him.

“It is! It won’t work.”

“Whatever dude,” I seat myself on his bed. “If your pride is so great, that you’re going to turn down a perfectly good condom and risk not getting laid, then that’s on you.”

“I’m telling you it won’t work. I’ve tried. I have to order specially fitted ones and I know that I have another box around here somewhere.”

“You’re so dumb. Don’t you know that condom companies only sell those so they can appease the fragile egos of men who need to feel more ‘like a man’ or whatever.”

He stops searching for a moment and takes a deep breath. I can tell he’s starting to get annoyed. “That may be true for some men. But this is the only thing that works for me. So if you aren’t going to help, can you please leave?”

“Do you really believe that though? I’ve seen someone stick their entire arm inside of a condom without it breaking. And you sure as shit aren’t that big.”

“It’s closer than you’d think,” he mutters under his breath almost inaudibly.

“What was that?” I prod.

“Nothing. It’s not a fair comparison. If that person also wasn’t having to worry about bloodflow, and the ability to feel pleasure, while also dealing with sliding in and out of a vagina, then you shouldn’t just accept that there’s no use for larger condoms.”

“I’m just saying that nobody that I’ve ever slept with has complained about these,” I say holding up the condom.

“Well you haven’t slept with me.”

“Ooh. Big boy!” I taunt. “I can hardly believe it.”

He slams down the various things that he has in his hands back into the box. “If I show you, will that shut you up?”

I gasp lightly at the sudden proposal but don’t want to give away any upperhand that I have. “Well, you’d have to be right. Which I highly doubt.”

He quickly stands up off of his knees and makes his way over to the side of the bed that I am sat. He stands before me and grabs the band of his sweatpants. “You really don’t believe me? Well here, take a look.”

He swiftly pulls his pants down below his knees. My eyes immediately land on his penis hanging between his legs. I gulp suddenly upon seeing it. His cock is long and thick. I immediately recognize that it is bigger than most of the men that I’ve slept with before. I feel my heart start to race and find myself wanting to touch it, but force myself to hold my composure.

Seconds of silence pass as I continue to gaze upon it. “Well?” he asks, awaiting some sort of commentary from me.

I gulp to clear my throat before replying. “Well…it’s a decent size. But you could still fit that in a condom.” I say, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of being right.

“That’s because it’s not hard,” he growls back. 

He moves his hand to his dick and wraps his fingers around it. He begins to slowly stroke up and down his shaft to give himself an erection. With each passing moment I can tell that he is getting larger and larger. 

I eventually speak up. “We shouldn’t do this. We-we’re roommates. This is weird.”

“You can go. But this is my room, so I’m going to do as I please,” he says as he continues massaging his still growing cock.

Despite knowing that I have the option to leave, I find myself paralyzed in awe of watching him and can’t muster the ability to leave. I can feel my jaw drop as I continue to examine. The blood rushes into his cock filling it to its maximum potential. Before long I am left staring as his hands work along a long, girthy dick jutting from his body.

My breath hastens as I admire the specimen before me. As his right hand continues to pump the impressive length of his meat, his left hand raises before me. He opens his palm and reveals the wrapped condom I had thrown to him before.

“See if it fits,” he says, almost as a dare.

I extend my hand and take the condom. I look from the square packaging to the enormous cock standing before me. I use my other hand to tear the blue wrapper, being careful to not damage the actual product. Once removed, I place the circular rubber up to the head of his penis. My eyes widen as I see that the diameter of the ring, that in all of my previous experiences seemed to be equal to the size of the dick, is noticeably smaller than the width of his tip. 

I chuckle to myself nervously at the sheer absurdity of his size. “Is there a problem?” he asks from above me. 

In my mind, I can already tell that the massiveness of his cock would justify the need for more ample protection. But as my eyes turn to his, I feel the words slip out of my mouth. “No. Of course not.” Perhaps because I refuse to admit that I was wrong. Perhaps because I want to continue.

I hold the condom onto his tip and slowly and carefully begin to roll it over the head. I struggle to hold it in place and apply enough force to get it to actually move down over him, but within a few seconds it begins to move. I work it down gently, eventually covering the tip and moving on to the even thicker shaft.

I feel as if my breath is trapped in my chest as I can hardly wrap my fingers around his impressive girth. I subconsciously take notice that his cock is just about the size of my wrist as I pull the latex down over it. I can feel myself getting wet, just from seeing it and touching it, wondering what it would feel like to be inside me.

I continue unrolling it until it no longer extends, somehow still leaving nearly an inch of his base still uncovered. I remove my hands from his cock and look up to his face. “See? It fits,” I say knowing that it appears to be on the verge of bursting.

He glares at me with a smirk. “You sure about that?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” I reply nervously with a nod.

“You don’t think that there’s any risk of breakage?” he prods.

“N-nope.”

He stares into my eyes intensely. I can feel his energy shift. He doesn’t care about proving his point any longer. He only wants one thing. “Do you care to test that?” I nod my head gently, no longer able to contain my own desire. “Lay back.”

I follow his command and lie down onto his bed. He steps toward me and unfastens the button on my shorts before gripping the waistband and pulling at them. I lift my hips instinctively allowing him to move down the full length of my legs, leaving my lower half completely bare. He tosses my shorts behind him onto a pile of cardboard boxes.

He steps over to his bedside table and opens a drawer. From inside he removes a large clear bottle. He moves himself back before me and pops open the lid before liberally applying the gel onto the already lubricated condom. He coats the entirety of his shaft to prepare himself for entry, before setting the bottle down on the floor at his feet.

He turns his attention to me. “Ready?” he asks. I nod my head timidly as I look at his monstrous cock standing over me, not knowing if he is even going to fit.

He grips his shaft and guides the tip of his dick between my lips. He presses forward firmly but carefully. Despite the combination of his thoroughly lubed cock and my practically dripping pussy, I struggle to accept him as he slides into me. I can feel his girth stretching my insides, forcing me to flinch inadvertently and close my legs to prevent him from pushing further.

He looks into my eyes and speaks. “You’ve got it. Just relax. I’ll go slow.” 

I nod my head and close my eyes as I try to loosen myself up. Moments later I feel him start again. I gasp in response to the subtle movement. He gently rocks his hips back and forth, slowly working inside of me allowing my pussy to accommodate his incredible size. I let out long controlled breaths as I try to manage the stretching, tearing feeling occurring within me.

But as time goes on, as his strokes become longer, the discomfort begins to ease. As my vagina becomes more open, more able to handle his girth, I begin to feel something else. A fullness. As his cock slides in and out of me I feel my walls cling to him. I can feel myself melt in pleasure. Suddenly my gasps for managing discomfort shift to moans of pleasure as he buries himself deep within me. 

As I become more relaxed, his slow, intentional pumps grow in speed. He smoothly thrusts back and forth. The feeling has become euphoric. With each insertion I can feel my excitement build. My focus drifts, unable to process anything other than the intense sensation being given to me. 

I find myself moaning and muttering incoherent half thoughts. “Oh god…yes yes yes…that’s it…oh fuck” 

A pressure is forming within me. Each time I feel his dick refill my pussy, I find myself closer to the brink of climax. And it’s clear that he knows. His eyes focus upon my face as he deliberately drives forcefully inside me. Our skin claps as fully sheaths himself within me. I clutch the sheets below me and clench as my body prepares for orgasm when suddenly…

SNAP

Suddenly the sensation inside of me has shifted. I can now feel the warmth of his uncovered skin. He stops his movement, knowing the exact cause of the change. He begins to chuckle and smiles at me. “Told you I needed a bigger size.”

He begins to withdraw himself from me, but still lost to the euphoria of his cock I wrap my legs around him. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Don’t stop,” I plead. “Please.”

A devilish smile curls up across his face. He powerfully drives his hips forward once again. I moan loudly as he fills me up once more. My head rolls back on to the bed as I relish in the feeling. He places his hands around my hips and presses me onto the mattress to hold me in place as he delivers fast, forceful thrusts.

The urge to cum quickly builds in me once again as he slams into me unrelentingly. My breaths become erratic. I clutch the bed with both hands and throw my head back moaning with increasing volume. My legs squeeze tightly around him as I approach climax.

“OH FUCK!” I exclaim as waves of ecstasy roll through my body. 

My legs unclasp from around him and shoot out straight. My hips attempt to jolt up off of the bed, but he uses his strong hands to keep me pinned to keep himself buried deep within me. I can feel my pussy pulse around his thick shaft. My body begins to shake and convulse violently as a warm wave of ecstasy travels through me. 

“That’s it. You’ve got it,” he reassures me as I struggle to collect myself.

I inadvertently start to giggle between heavy gasps for air. After another moment I feel him release his grip on my hips. He slowly pulls back, removing himself from me. As the tip of his dick exits my lips, I let out a short breath from the sudden void left within me. 

I look between my legs and see his still raging erection. Towards the base he still has the ring of the condom still tightly squeezing his dick with what remains of the condom hanging off below. I laugh as he begins to roll it up towards the tip of his shaft.

He looks at me and smiles. “So do you believe me now?” he asks as he finally pulls the remains of the rubber off of his cock.

I watch him closely and bite my lip before sitting up and replying. “I don’t think I’m really in a position to try and contest that anymore. You are one hundred percent correct.”

“Was that so hard to admit?” he replies cockily. He walks over to where he had tossed my shorts. He picks them up but before he can turn around he double takes back to the box that it had landed on. “Oh shit!”

“What?” I ask curiously.

He leans over and shuffles through the box to get to the bottom. He stands back up and pulls out a small black package with the word ‘TROJAN’ typed across it in shiny gold letters. “They’re here!”

We both begin to laugh as he brings me my clothes. “Well I guess you’ll get to enjoy your date,” I say as I slide my shorts back on.

“I guess so,” he says with a smirk.

“Assuming she can handle it, that is,” I reply as I stand up from his bed.

He chuckles. “That does seem to be an issue at times.”

I step closer to him. “Well that would be rather unfortunate.”

“Yeah. But I could always find someone more suited for it,” he says as he uses a finger to twirl my hair hanging down the side of my face.

“Who knows? They might be closer than you think,” I reply as I run my finger tip down his chest.

“Who knows?” he repeats. He slowly leans toward me, bringing his face close to mine. 

I move in as well, but once we are a mere inches from pressing our lips together I whisper. “Good luck on your date.”

I quickly walk out of the room and make my way back down to mine. I close the door behind me and lean against it. I laugh quietly to myself for a moment, still not believing what I had just done. I walk back over to my bed and pick up my book to study once again. But as my eyes scan over the words, I am unable to process anything due to a single overpowering thought of when I will see my roommate again.

The End.

This is a repost of an old Halloween story that got deleted with a previous account -- felt like a good time to bring it back from the dead 👻💦

ALSO, if you'd like to read my longer, more involved erotica stories and series, you can find them on my new Smashwords account here! 😘📚

///

On this night of veil thin
I offer forth this mortal sin
The souls of many trade for one
In hours hidden from the sun
Liquid life soaks through the shroud
Return to me my love avowed

The sky above DSU burned down like a candle while Ester watched and waited on the library steps. She'd read and re-read the printed instructions crumpled in her hand enough times to memorize them. And the campus was already bustling with just what she needed to complete the ritual.

Her costume took about as much effort as any other girl's – some colorful skull makeup, slutty spandex shorts, and platform heels that raised her eyes to chin height for most of the guys on campus. The cropped red hoodie pulled over her sports bra was worn only for school spirit, as it did nothing to fend off the chilly gusts of Autumn wind rustling her thick black locks of hair.

When the clouds overhead were mired in enough inky darkness she burned her instructions, then followed their ashes on the wind toward Greek Street.

Romans and cowboys and angels stumbled and swayed around the lawns of huge frat houses, crushing plastic cups underfoot while clashing DJ sets issued from wide-open front doors. Spirits were high. Souls were plentiful. Ester stalked inside.

"I like your bones!" She shouted to a tall pajama-skeleton ladling dark purple punch into a boot-shaped stein. He looked at her with a woozy grin as she said, "they all look really big."

The pair barely got around the corner from the kitchen before she squatted to inhale his meat, brown ass cheeks bubbling out from the top of her shorts. He swore and bucked between her painted lips, cradling her neck and tugging it ever closer to his groin. She tugged in return at his pajamas and shaft, humming and rolling her tongue while she devoured him. 

When he doubled over on top of her head, eyes rolled back inside his skull, she hungrily swallowed every tangy spurt of cum he rocketed across her tongue. But before he could ask for her number, she was on her feet and gone.

"Glakh, gakh, glagh, glakh!" The bathroom door was only partly closed while a scrawny Viking humped Ester's face against the side of the tub. Drool dripped from the little red rose painted on her chin, but the makeup was waterproof enough to stay put – for a little while anyway. 

The Viking rutted hard and held himself there while his balls emptied, then muttered that he still had to piss. The strange girl evaporated and appeared on the second floor balcony.

Three amigos in mariachi outfits took turns nut-slapping her chin while they knocked back pumpkin ciders, and she was on to the next house before they'd pulled up their pants.

The night grew louder around her as she pulled up her sleeve and added to the tally with the marker from her bra. It would probably look like the tracks of a whole rail yard by the time she was done – hopefully before the clock struck twelve, or else she'd miss her chance.

She cornered and slurped sloppy loads from stragglers around a beer pong game. Then lured a gaggle of freshmen to a side yard to stroke and suck their spunk shooters. They were clearly afraid when she snapped at one of them for cumming early, wasting it on her shoulder and face. But she didn't let them go until every single cock was spent.

Two dozen loads was a lot. She thought it'd be easier to keep it all down; especially doing it for him. To make up for… But she wasn't a porn star, or a sex demon – just a sad girl on a shadowy mission.

She paused outside of the third house, feeling nauseous as she watched all the big-titted sluts in little black cat ears gyrate and cackle under the amber moon. The wind pushed at her from behind, and she shivered as she blew inside.

1. 46. 59. 63.

A baseball legend in a fake mustache asked if she was okay, while holding her ponytail and watching her cover her mouth to keep anything from coming up.

She hesitated, swallowed, burped, "I'm – fine." Her mouth opened again and he stuffed his dick back inside. Her nose burned, her lips leaked, her stomach gurgled in creamy protest. But she steeled herself and let the pitcher pump his batter down into her gut.

Minutes later the lamps at the end of Greek Street cast harsh shadows across a streaky-faced girl in a cum-spattered hoodie. Crushed rose petals were tangled in her unkempt hair, and her thighs were shiny with stripes of cold drool.

"Fuck," she wobbled in place, realizing there were no more houses to stalk, and at least 20 more loads to swallow. She tugged her sleeve up and tried to read the smudged tallies there – but if 'cum-drunk' was a real thing, she was the living picture of it.

The tolling bells of a distant church told her it was already 10 o'clock, and pulled her toward the cemetery.

"Can I suck your dick?" She slurred at a group of guys dressed as slutty bikers, and they collectively grimaced, giving her a wide berth. Her heels scraped the pavement as she lurched through traffic toward the strip, where Monster Mash blared from every patio.

"I.D.?" The doorman at Rocky's held out a hand while swiping through videos on his phone.

"I don't have it…" came a raspy, wet-mouthed reply. When he glanced up he blinked in surprise at the multicolored mess in front of him. Ester looked like an undead jizz mop, and asked, "can I get in if I suck your dick?"

His slime was still slick in her throat as she pushed to the back of the bar, looking for the darkest corner booths she could find. Her head banged the bottoms of tables there while she swallowed a dozen more cocks, and tried to keep from blacking out.

When a bouncer caught her sneaking into the men's bathroom, he tossed her into the alley and frowned at the cum glaze she left on his hands. The rear door slammed shut, and Ester sat up painfully on the icy pavement.

She was nauseous beyond belief, and freezing, and still five or six loads short of her goal. Her hair was half-pulled from her ponytail, and pussy half-hanging out from her shorts, when she hugged her knees and started to cry.

"Well, fuck me – look at this little present all neatly set out for us, lads." A hollow-eyed creep in a pinstripe suit squished toward her through the gutter, shadowed by a handful of other freaks seeking tricks and treats.

Ester lifted her head as the voice approached, wiping the goo from her lips and sniffling.

"Wh-what time is it?" Her voice quivered.

"Just about eleven, doll," the creep sneered. "Worried you'll turn into a pumpkin?"

"No…" The sloppy creature crawled up onto her knees. "I've got a date soon – let's do this quick."

Her ripped shorts barely clung to her hips as she hobbled the rest of the way to the cemetery. Four or five loads streamed down her inner thighs, but the rest were safely mingling in her belly with the others she'd gathered that night.

It was actually a challenge to squeeze beneath the cemetery gate with such a cum-swollen gut, but she managed it. And she could find the grave in her sleep at this point, after visiting nearly every day for a year.

The moon loomed large and golden over the wrought iron gates as Ester collapsed to her knees in the grass before a clean, dimpled headstone.

SHANE ARRIOLA
2004 - 2023
Eternally Beloved

She brushed the stone with her fingers, and said, "on this night of veil thin, I offer forth this mortal sin…"

A crow cawed in flight overhead, and her stomach squealed with discomfort.

"The souls of many trade for one, in hours hidden from the sun."

Tears blurred her vision as heat crept up from her loins to her ears.

"Liquid life soaks through the shroud…"

She felt dizzy. Unnatural.

"Return to me my love avowed."

There was a long silence. Even the wind had seemingly died, blanketing the world with an empty anticipation.

Then, Ester erupted.

Heavy, heaving gurgles of hot, backwashed cum surged from her lips to soak the ground below. Her back arched and face flushed as her body turned itself inside out. Sounds of animal sickness echoed through the cemetery, and the congealed puddle consumed her fingers as they gripped the wormy dirt.

Her head spun and eyelids fluttered as the last of her strength flushed out from her. She slipped forward into the lewd, ritualistic mess with a soggy plop, and came as close to praying as she ever had before.

Time stopped. The moon was devoured by dark clouds. And Ester's heartbeat slowed to near stillness. Her tears mixed with the regurgitated mess saturating the soil. There was no point to this world without him. He was the only one who knew her. Knew what she needed, and who she really was.

She closed her tired eyes and promised – to the spirits, the devil, whoever – that if she could have him back, she would do anything. Forfeit her soul, offer her body – anything.

When the moon reappeared, the man within it leered down at her – and a wretched hand burst from the earth to grip her throat, just the way she liked.

He was my RA. Which I know. I know how that sounds. But he was only two years older than me and he had this way of making you feel like everything was going to be fine even when it was not. That is a dangerous quality in a person when you are nineteen and do not know what you are doing with your life or your body or anything else.

I had an essay due. I was behind on it and panicking because I always panic and he saw me in the hallway looking stressed and said "Come work on it in my room. I'll help you focus." And I believed him because he was Vaughn and Vaughn always seemed like he knew what to do.

His room was bigger than mine. Single. He had a desk lamp that gave off this warm amber light and his bed was made properly not just a sheet thrown over a mattress like every other room on the floor. He sat at his desk and I sat on his bed with my laptop and my notes spread out around me and we worked in silence for a while.

Then he got up and sat next to me on the bed. He picked up my notes and read through them and told me my thesis was good but my second paragraph was weak and I needed a better transition. While he talked he started playing with my hair. Just running his fingers through it slowly. Like it was nothing. Like people just did that.

I stopped typing.

"Keep working" he said.

I tried. My hands were on the keyboard but my brain was somewhere else entirely. His fingers moved from my hair to the back of my neck and traced a line down my spine through my shirt and back up again.

"Your shoulders are really tense" he said.

"I'm always tense."

He put both hands on my shoulders and started rubbing. Slow. Firm. I felt myself lean back into his hands. My laptop screen went dark from inactivity and neither of us reached to wake it up.

"Lie back" he said.

It was not a question. It was not a command either. It was somewhere in between. The kind of thing only certain people can say and have you listen. I closed my laptop and moved my notes to the floor and lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

He lay down next to me. On his side. His head propped on his hand. He put his other hand on my stomach over my shirt and left it there. I could feel the weight of it. The warmth.

"You're nervous" he said.

"A little."

"You don't have to be."

"You know i'm a virgin right.." I told him

He just laughed. "Thats okay. I respect that actually. You don't have to do anything you are comfortable with." he said to me.

He kissed me. Soft. His hand stayed on my stomach. He kissed me again and his hand moved up to my ribs and then back down to my hip and I felt my whole body shiver. It wasn't from the cold. It was from anticipation. From the feeling of being touched by someone who was not in a rush.

He pulled my shirt up slowly. Not off. Just up enough to expose my stomach. He kissed my collarbone. Then the space between my breasts. Then my stomach. Each kiss lower than the last and each one deliberate. I could feel his breath on my skin and my hands were gripping the sheets. I knew where this was going.

He unbuttoned my jeans and I lifted my hips so he could pull them down. He did. Slowly. Past my thighs. Past my knees. I was still wearing my socks. I realized this and felt embarrassed and started to reach down to take them off and he put his hand on my ankle.

"Leave them" he said. "You're fine."

He kissed my inner thigh. Then the other one. I was holding my breath. I could hear the building around us. Someone's music through the wall. The elevator dinging at the end of the hall. All the ordinary sounds of my dorm while something extraordinary was happening on his bed.

He pulled my underwear to the side. He did not take them off either. He just moved them enough and his mouth was on me and I gasped and my hips lifted off the bed.

His tongue was warm. Slow. He circled my clit in long deliberate strokes and his hands held my thighs open and I was trembling. I put my hand over my mouth because the walls are thin and everyone on this floor knew who I was and the thought of someone hearing me was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

He went deeper. His tongue flattened against me and then he sucked gently and I made a sound behind my hand that I had never made before. My legs shook. My stomach muscles clenched. I was gripping the sheets so hard you have no idea.

"Relax" he said against me. I could feel the vibration of the word. "Just relax."

I tried. My head fell back. My eyes closed. He kept going. Slow and patient like he had nowhere to be and nothing mattered except this. He traced patterns on my clit with his tongue and alternated pressure and every time I got close he backed off just enough to keep me there right on the edge. Hovering. Desperate. I have never been so under someones control like that and I could just tell he was enjoying it.

When I came it hit me all at once. My whole body arched off the bed. I grabbed his hair with one hand and the pillow with the other and I pressed my face sideways into the mattress and moaned and shook and felt it roll through me in these long slow waves that seemed to go on forever. He kept going through it. Softer now. Drawing it out until I was twitching and oversensitive and had to push his head away gently.

He sat up. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Looked at me. I was still lying there with my jeans around my ankles and my shirt pushed up and my socks on. I must have looked ridiculous. He did not seem to think so. He kissed me and I could taste my pussy and my cum on his lips and tongue.

"Better?" he said.

"I don't remember the question."

He smiled. Handed me my laptop. I pulled my jeans up and buttoned them and sat cross legged on his bed and opened my essay and stared at the screen and could not read a single word of it. My brain was zapped.

I went back to my room eventually. Sat at my desk. Opened the same document. Typed three words. Deleted them. Typed four more. Deleted those too.

I turned my essay in late. Did not get a good grade. Still though. It was worth it.

The walk across the lawn felt like a stroll onto center court, but the stakes were much higher than a trophy. I was hyper-aware of their cameras watching my tall frame, my blonde hair caught in a messy ponytail, and the way my short black dress, bra-less and thin, clung to my skin. Every step made my firm breasts bounce, and the cool evening air kept my nipples so hard, two defiant points clearly visible through the fabric.

​I didn't knock. I let myself in, and the moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, I felt the shift in the atmosphere. The very sensual and sexual stares were very obvious.

​Mark was standing in the foyer on his cell, his jacket off, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The second I walked in, his conversation died. His eyes dropped instantly to my black pumps, long, tanned legs, tracing the athletic definition of my quads down to the hem of my black dress.

The best way to describe him was … He looked like a man who hadn't eaten his wife in days.

​As he looked back up, his gaze locked onto the top front of my black dress. I smiled. I saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. I stood taller, pulling my shoulders back to thrust my chest forward, letting him see exactly how much his stare was affecting me. The heat between my thighs was almost obvious; I had to squeeze my legs together just to keep my balance as I walked toward him on my low heels pumps.

​"She’s in the lounge," he rasped, his voice thick with sexual desires he wasn't even trying to hide anymore.

​I stepped into the lounge and stopped. Elena wasn't with her children; she was waiting for me. She was leaning against the grand piano, a glass of dark red wine in her hand. She wore a black silk slip dress, but my eyes went straight to her feet.

​She was wearing a pair of black leather Louboutins. The five-inch stilettos arched her feet into a dramatic, impossible curve, and as she shifted her weight, the iconic red soles flashed like a warning sign. I stared at her delicate, sexy ankles, so slim and refined compared to my powerful, athletic ones and felt a wave of moisture, I wanted her so bad. I was sopping wet just watching her balance on those dangerously high stilettos.

She could break ankle.... And she would have to crawl to me.

​"Chloe," she purred, her eyes a dark, knowing contrast to my bright blue ones, scanning me from head to toe.

"You look... energized, amazing and so sexy. Did practice go well?”

She didn't wait for an answer. She placed her wine on the side table with care, as if she already knew she wouldn’t be coming back for it. Then she walked toward me. Her heels moved in a steady rhythm across the hardwood floor, sharp and soft at the same time, each step drawing a quiet line between us.

When she stopped, she was close enough that I felt her warmth before I touched her. Her perfume lingered, smooth, expensive, slightly sweet and filled the space between us. I was taller, yet she carried herself with ease, chin lifted, shoulders relaxed. In her heels, our eyes met almost level, and she held my gaze without blinking.

“You’re watching me,” she said softly, a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“I am,” I replied, my voice lower than I meant it to be.

Her hand reached out. Her fingers were cool, perfectly shaped, nails polished in a pale, elegant shade. She traced the side of my leg slowly, from my knee upward, taking her time, stopping just at the hem of my black dress. The touch was light, but it stayed with me.

“You don’t even realize how attractive you are.”

I swallowed. “What do you mean?”

❤️ Enjoyed the chapter? You can find more of my stories.
Thanks for reading!
Ashley

This is a new set I’m working on with some inspiration from an amazing couple. Hope I can get several more done with these characters. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I have writing :*

———

Ibliss was new in town but was no stranger to changing environments. Since he was 2, he’d been shipped and sent all over the world by a family that refused to stand still long enough for the paint to dry. His mother’s modest inheritance mixed with his dad’s egregious inheritance essentially meant his parents had never worked a real day in their life. Yet he was expected to go to the best schools and get the best grades, all for what? To impress their boring, pretentious friends?! To add insult to paper-cuts, he was an only child born to only children. No siblings or cousins or uncles to commiserate with on their family neurosis.

Some of Ibliss’ earliest memories are of comforting his father after a drunken stumble and crash out. His mother was much less demanding, but also less present. College may not have been his choice, but it DID make him realize he needed to make his own community if he wanted any support. He appreciated getting to see what a healthy normal family looked like.

A few years out from college and his parents pull his financial assistance. Going on about “a Yale graduate should be able to provide for himself,” or something. What’s he suppose to do now?! He too has never worked a day in his life, unless you count raising two adults as a job. Rather quickly he gives up, “if I’m going to be homeless, I might as well do it somewhere warm,” he concedes to himself. California is too expensive, Arizona too hot, Louisiana too French, Texas too… Texas… Florida it is.

Florida was kind to him but kind of boring. Does everyone just go to the beach and.. fuck?! He had managed to find a good price on some land in Suwannee, near a pretty lively recreational area with plenty of old and large trees. Something about it felt like home. It helped that major festivals happen virtually in his backyard several times a year. He could still meet people, even while living in the sticks, he thinks.

He managed to move in just in time for the annual Halloween festival. The locals had raved to him about the wildness that ensued for the two weeks it was held, but he had no idea what was in store for him. Still mostly broke except for some money he borrowed from a college roommate, he had to sneak in. Buying the house and land had taken him selling almost everything he owned, but he felt he deserved a good time for all his efforts buying a home.

The festival was larger than he imagined; what he figured would be a few thousand people, tops, turned out to be 30k people, probably more. As he shuffle his way under a fence a good distance away from security, he noticed a pretty woman wearing a red pashmina scarf hitting a joint. She catches his shenanigans and laughs aloud. Almost too quickly she was beside him, lending him a hand.

“Stop, I don’t need help, you’re gonna give me away!” Ibliss says, shocked and confused by his own reaction.

“Well jeez, I was just trying to help!” Red says as she quickly pulls her hand back.

Now on his feet, Ibliss looks around frantically before finally settling on Reds face. An immediate flushing sensation rushes to his face. The girl wasn’t only nice, she was STUNNING.

“He..Heyy, I’m sorry, I freaked out. I’m new here, I don’t know why I’m being like this. Forgive me. Seriously I’m an idiot, I don’t know why I’m like thi” he mutters before getting interrupted.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, relax, you’re surrounded by love, nothings going to happen to you here.” Red says as she lightly places her hand on his cheek, only adding to his hotness.

He knew festival people were hippies and about free love and all that, but he hadn’t ever actually experienced something like that in real life.

“Uhh, do you come here often..” he says awkwardly.

“Haha, yeah, I live not far from here with my husband, Flaire. We love this thing. So many cool people. What about you? Sneak in every year?” She says with a chuckle and a smirk.

“Uhh, no, I just moved in not too far from here.”

Before he can awkwardly fumble onto his next word, the prettiest man he’d ever seen skips into their conversation, like a woodland fairy.

“Well hi! What happens to be going on here?!”

Ibliss had never been into guys, but there was something about this one that made him twitch. It could have been the skimpy outfit that showed off his happy trail, or maybe it was the outline of his little cock in his camo speedo, but he wasn’t threatened. He was excited.

“Oh hey!” Red says, practically yelling.

“Good timing, I just met the newest addition to our orgy later!” Red says with a glint in her eyes.

“Wowo, what, I’m not in any orgy!” Ibliss says at the same time Flaire exclaimed “yes!”

“I was just kidding! Gosshh, you really need to relax, you’re at a festival!” Red says as she gives his arm a squeeze.

“I know a way to make him relax..” Flaire says with a similar twinkle in his eye.

“This is my husband, Flaire. I go by Red.” She says as she embraces Ibliss in a hug. It happened so quick, she was already releasing him before he could raise his arms and return the hug.

“Uhh… you two are.. married?” He said and immediately regretted.

“Yeah, we’ve been married for 6 years.” Red says as she raises her and Flairs hand to show identical wedding rings with little diamonds.

“Oh wow, sorry, I just thought” Ibliss begins to say before being cut off by Flaire.

“What, that I look like I suck dick like a Hoover vacuum?!”

“Well… yeah.” Ibliss says with a confused look on his face.

“Well I do!” Flaire exclaims.

The three of them alternate staring at each other before simultaneously breaking out into laughter. The oddity of the situation demanded a laugh; how does such a pretty, effeminate man end up with this gorgeous tan goddess. He didn’t even have a large cock, Ibliss could see it with his own eyes!

“Hey, why don’t you come back to our camp, since clearly you don’t have a place of your own here.” Red says after the three of them stop laughing.

Something about this seemed like a trap to Ibliss, but feeling reckless and slightly aroused, he took the bait.

The camp was quite a setup. Glamp would have been a better term. Several large tents filled with king sized futons, indoor couches, carpets on grass, several people walking around nude. This was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“Uhhh, is it okay that I’m here..?” Ibliss says as he shares a smile with another beautiful topless woman.

“We are all open here. If you rub anyone the wrong way, we’ll know.” Red says with a wink.

“Just make yourself at home. Flaire and I have some buisness to tend to really quick.”

Before he knows it, both of them have disappeared into a tent. Ibliss takes a seat on a couch and takes in all the Halloween decorations. So weird to be outside on a couch, he thinks.

15 minutes have passed and the sexy couple is still in the tent. Curiosity gets the better of him and he sneaks his way to try and overhear what’s goin on inside their tent. He knows he shouldn’t but he’s getting bored. Nothing good happens when he’s bored.

“Listen, I think he’ll be up for it! Trust me, I saw the way he looked at you!” He can hear Red say.

“I’m really not trying to have another guy who only fucks you, please, it’s torture! I want the chance to feel it too!” Flaire says with a pain in his voice.

Before he can take in everything that’s being said, Ibliss loses his footing and lands face first ONTO their tent.

“Ugghhnnfffff, sorry! I’m so sorry!” Ibliss says, his voice muffled by the canvas top on their tipi tent.

The zipper quickly comes undone and he falls face first into their glamping palace.

“I’m soooo sorry. I’ll leave.. I’m sorry, I promise I’m not always like this.”

Before he knows it, he’s being pulled onto a futon on the floor and Red gets atop him.

“You’re not goin anywhere, mister. Since we caught you, you need to come clean! Were you or were you not looking at my husband’s cock a few minutes ago?!”

“Well, technically I couldn’t see anything.. ya know.. on account of the camo..” Ibliss is proud of his wit in the moment, but also terrified at the same time. He can feel Red’s hot thighs squeezing his sides, her warm pussy against his crotch. What a mixture of feelings and sensations.

“I see we have a funny one on our hands. You know what we do to the funny ones?” Red says as she bends over, getting closer to his face.

“What..?” Ibliss says, wafting Reds face with his hot breath.

“We fuck them.” She says before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“So.. you’re NOT into me. I knew it.” Flaire says, annoyed.

“Uhhh, I didn’t say that. I just am confused. You’re hot, but I don’t like guys. But I WAS trying to look at your cock. I don’t know, I don’t know. Why would I look at your cock if I wasn’t into it? But also why would I suddenly be into guys at 30 years old, but also” Ibliss is interrupted by another kiss from Red, but this time firmer and longer than a peck.

“Your cock getting hard and pressing against my pussy says you want his cock. It’s okay to admit it, many people don’t figure out till much later in life. There’s no shame here.” Red says before giving him another kiss.

“Don’t force the man” Flaire says, but this time from right beside Ibliss. He’d moved too quietly and positioned himself just above Ibliss, now looking down at him, his own cock the foreground. The outline of his little penis completely visible to Ibliss from this new vantage.

“You’re SO hard right, fuck.” Red exclaims as she grinds her hips against Ibliss’ swollen cock.

“Can I do something about this?” She says with an angelic look in her face and a that glint in her eyes.

“Honestly, at this point, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. I’m confused, and horny? But..”

Before he could continue, Red slides down his body and yanks at his pants. He lifted his butt to assist. Before he knows it, his cock is halfway down her throat.

“Fuck you’re big.” Flaire says as he all but drools watching.

“Are you hard right now?” Ibliss asks, noticing Flaires cock stick straight and straining his Speedo.

“Yeah, this is so fucking hot. Can I watch and touch myself?” Flaire asks Ibliss.

This was completely new to Ibliss, he’d never even been in the same room as another hard cock, but this one seemed different. He was itching to see what came out of that camo print. Plus, Red was giving it her all and he was on the edge, his absolute horniest.

“Only if I get to watch.” Ibliss says, not knowing where the words came from.

“Say less.” Flaire says as he pulls out his cock.

It was maximum 3.5 inches in length and the girth of a fat sharpie. A pretty wimpy penis by all measures, but it was glistening and perfectly shaved. He’s never seen a cock so clean and smooth. Something about it begged for a sucking.

“Can I put it in?” He hears Red say from his crotch.

“Uhh, like in your pussy?” Ibliss asks, confused.

“I’ll take it wherever you’ll let me.” Red says, her chin covered in saliva and precum.

“Only if he puts his little dick in my mouth.” Another set of words Ibliss never knew he would utter.

Before he knows it, Red is sliding her hotness onto his stiff cock. Every extra inch she takes forcing his toes to curl a little. She was the tightest pussy he’d ever experienced. Meanwhile, Flair got on his knees and brought his cock to Ibliss’ face. Without hesitation, he took it all into his mouth at once and begun swirling it like a lollipop.

What seemed like immediately, Flaire’s cock was twitching and unloading little dribbles of cum onto his tongue. He’d never tried another man’s cum, let alone had his tongue coated.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m didn’t mean to do that!” Flaire says as he tries to pull his cock out of Ibliss’ mouth.

Ibliss instinctually grabs his ass and forces him to keep the little cock in his mouth. Savoring every teeny drip. Just as he starts to feel Flairs cock start to go soft, he feels his balls tighten.

Red’s pussy was contracting and squeezing him at the same tempo as his balls tightening. He knew he was about to cum.

“I’m aburtt turr cruimm,” Ibliss quickly removing the cock from his mouth says as he drools a bit of cum.

Red takes initiative and plunges him as deep as he’ll fit, rubbing her cervix on his cock in the process. She grinds her hips into him like he might try to slip away while bending over and whispers in his ear.

“Breed me.”

​

All characters are over 18 and consensual.

We got lost three times already; I’m starting to doubt that we’ll ever reach the party on the beach. It is the beach, after all, how hard can it be to find it? Driving around aimlessly is almost worse then walking around aimlessly and I’m not hiding my discontentment. I’m, actually, exhibiting all the mad girlfriend signs: my legs are nowhere near his side of the car, I’m not singing with the radio and I’m on my phone; but not on Maps because “he got it”, or at least he thinks that he does. While I am sighting for the twentieth time, he manages to, finally, bring us to the party we were supposed to attend.

I felt pretty that night: I was wearing a bohemian maxi dress that was flowing elegantly with the wind. I didn’t wear a bra since the dress didn’t allow for one and I was wearing a lacy thong so that there would not be any evident lines. My boyfriend looked so handsome too, in his linen shirt and pants; they fitted his big frame so well that I was having trouble staying mad.

The “party” turned out to be a disappointment due to disorganization and missing details… like lighting. People were trying to figure out the electricity situation in the little hut, so in the meantime we had decided to go on a walk. The sea was complete darkness except for a clear yellow line that was the moon’s reflection; the stars were bright and the night was loud. When our friends managed to turn on the music we had almost walked a kilometre away from the party site…

“I see you, over there, all mad, baby. I’m sorry I didn't listen to your directions and that we got lost because of it but it is killing me to walk this far apart from you, can you come here?” he says while stretching out his hand towards me.

“Please, darling”

I turn away from him to enhance my dramatic performance, but i grab his hand so he ends up pulling me close to him while continuing our walk.

“Fine”.

“Let’s talk baby. We’ve been here with your family a few days and you know your numbers have gone up. You’ve gotta stop teasing and disobeying or your count is going to get to a hundred and fifty by the time we go back home. Now, normally you would have already been punished at this point but since the location that we are at doesn’t allow us the privacy, I’ve been letting it slide. Do you want to suggest anything to lower your count number?”

He says all this while stroking my bare back with his warm hand, making my head tingle.

“Okay, daddy”, he raises his eyes to the sky because he knows nothing’s good is coming if I’ m calling in that tone.

“I have a fantastic idea… What if we forget about the hundred and two and we just move on to kisses? Actually, what if we move onto your special kisses, isn’t that the best? Please”

“So I should just forgive all your public teasing, the naughty pictures you sent me at work and the way that you brushed that little cute butt of yours on daddy’s cock in the pool?”

“Yep, exactly. Good boy.”

As his eyes dart towards me, I realise that those two words might have crossed the line, so I start running. Unfortunately, my long dress betrays me making me trip and face plant into the sand: ”ouch”; one second later I’m over his shoulder with my butt in the hair and my face bouncing on his back. I’m trying to wiggle free but to no avail.

“You decided to be acting like a little brat and you’re going to be treated like one now. I want to hear no words and no excuses…” .

“But…but”.

“But nothing. You’re lucky that I’m going behind that lifeguards’ tower and that I’m not spanking you in front of everyone on the fucking beach, now stay still or you’re crawling”.

He sits on the sand while I’m still on his shoulder and plops me down like a sack of potatoes in his lap. I tried to give my best pout but he reached for my throat and I gasped in surprise. His gentle eyes are gone, they look serious and almost black.

“So, princess, you’re going to tell me everything you did wrong and how you managed to get to our highest number yet. Then, my pet, you’re going to apologise to daddy because you did not respect his authority and you better look me in the eyes while saying that. Finally, you’re going to take your punishment without squirming and without covering your bum.”

He spins me around and I have to admit, I always like how he manhandles me, I feel myself getting a little damp.

“You're going to count the first 10 and the last 10, so be careful and keep count,"

“but, but you know I can't count in subspace, sir, how..?”

“Not my problem, love, go on”.

“I'm sorry daddy for sending you inappropriate pictures while you were at work and I'm sorry for being such a tease. I will behave and follow daddy's rules from now on. I promise… pleasee”

“Count now, darling”.

As he says this, unfazed, the first heavy strike falls on my butt and I realise that 102 will be terrible to endure.

“One”.

At the 30th hit my right hand covers my sore bum.

“Nah ah brat, take it like a daddy's good girl.”

The embarrassment is too much and all I can utter is a mumble. My bottom is very warm and it hurts so much. The cool summer breeze is brushing against the fabric of my dress that is miraculously still covering me and I can feel the contrast with the rough sand under my knees.

By the 50th I'm crying warm salty tears that are pooling on the ground under my face.

“Please”

“Please what baby? Use your words”

“Please stop sir, it is hurting”

“That's supposed to hurt, bunny. It's how you learn your lesson. Can you be a good little painslut for daddy? Yes, I know you can, yes good girl. Calm down now, okay? You're halfway through, bunny. Do you like it when I call you my painslut or do you prefer bunny? …Bunny, of course”

He lifts the hem of my dress all the way up to my waist. My red bottom is now exposed to the white moon and to the cool breeze, making it sting. My embarrassment levels are through the roof and I whimper to communicate my thoughts. His warm hand brushes over my sore butt making my skin tingle and burn even more. His fingers brush lightly on my slit and I jolt forward.

“What is it pet? Are we a little sensitive here? Aw my poor baby, you're soaking wet from your punishment… maybe you're enjoying the pain a little too much. Should we take a little break?”

“Yes, yes please, yes”

He spins me around making me straddle him and gives me a few small kisses on my cheeks. I bury my face in his neck inhaling that familiar musk and his perfume, wetting his shirt with my tears. He's supporting me up with one arm across my lower back and I feel the other hand reaching my core. His touch is excruciatingly light, brushing my clit with skill. His fingers are at my entrance and my pussy is already pulsing wanting him to fill me. The tip of his finger pushes just past my entrance and a needy moan escapes my mouth onto his neck. I’m almost grinding on his dick, cursing the layers of fabric.

“Shh, shh, darling, do you want everyone to hear you? Can you be a good little whore for me and shut up? …Good job darling, just like that. You like daddy's touch, don't you?“.

“Mhmh..” is all my needy self manages to get out. I'm grinding with my hips on his hand and he's not even a knuckle in.

“Please!”

“That's rude, are you being a needy little slut? Okay. Well… Don't worry, we still have plenty spankings to fix that attitude tonight .”

Before I can realise it, I'm back with my butt in the air, over his knee and he's got my legs pinned down with his other leg. He start immediately going at it. Now that there's no fabric in between his hand and my skin, it is hurting 10 times worse.

At this point, I'm sobbing and squirming; from my mouth, loud whimpers get stopped by his thumb forcibly inserted between my lips. My oral fixation immediately lights up and I start sucking at it, trying to keep quiet. There's a bigger problem, though. I have no idea of the number anymore. All I can concentrate on are his hot hands landing on my sore skin and the tingly feeling at my core.

“Baby, are you forgetting something?”.

“Time to count. I know you can do it, pet, come on”. He graces me with a reminder, thank god.

I start to count down from 10 as lighter strikes come down on me. Still, the pain is strong and I'm regretting disobeying more and more. When the last one hits he sit me on his lap again and gives me a big hug. I'm still crying softly on his shirt.

“You did so well, baby girl. You were so good for me. Did you think about all the naughty things you did?”.

“Yes, Sir, I'm sorry”

“It's okay now princess. Come put your back on me, let me help. I snuggle into his chest and put my sore bottom right on his lap, I enjoy the feeling of his boner poking me, it makes me feel wanted. I scoot back a little bit trying to push into it a little more but he clocks me immediately.

“You were too naughty for that, pet. Now… I want you to be silent”

He covers my mouth with his hand but it is so big that half my face is grabbed. He shoved is middle finger deep into my throat and I gag at the surprise.

Sir moves my panties to the side and caresses me lightly, up and down slowly for so many times. A needy moan escapes through the makeshift gag. Suddenly, he pushes a finger in me and starts to stroke my insides in such a skilled way that my body starts to tremble. He adds a second finger and it almost game over for me, my tight pussy is gripping him. His palm is massaging my clit is such a perfect way, I'm crying again.

“Shh, love, you have to be good. Shut up for me, okay? Take it”

I feel the familiar building in my tummy and apparently he feels it too because he stops his fingers all together and gives me three firm slaps right in between my legs.

“Okay baby. That's all for today. You were so good for me”

“Nooo, want more. Please”

“Not now, pet. Now we're going back to the party and let those wet panties of yours remind you who you belong to. You're going to be right next to me for the whole evening and be touching me every time you want to speak with someone. Understand?”

He wipes my tears with his thumbs while cupping my face is such a cute way.

I'm pouting again, not happy at all about the situation. I refuse to stand up for this injustice. I'm crossed arms sat on the sand and I've decided that no man is going to move me from here.

“Let's go now” He says standing up.

“No” I add, dramatically. I'm avoiding his eyes like the plague because I have no power against those.

“Bunny, c’mon. Don't make me pick you up again, I'm tired.”

“I said no” showing him my tongue defiantly.

“Fuck baby.”

Daddy's unbuckling his belt, he unzips his fly and pulls his erection out. He comes at my face and violently grabs my hair. But, I'm no beginner and I'm sawing my mouth shut. That doesn't last long cause he pinches my nose and my nipple at the same time, my mouth opens for a big gasp. He, immediately, shoves it in, pumping against my poor throat.

“Why is it that you're being such a brat today? I was trying to be nice and now you're making me be a mean daddy.”

He grunts a few time while putting it in further, and I start gagging and choking on it. Saliva and precum are dripping down my chin and the tears are flowing again. I try to respond to his questions but some muffled sounds are all I managed. I can feel his veins sliding through my lips and his cock head just popping in and out of my throat, stretching it so thoroughly. I know better than to use my hands while he's fucking my face so I plant them on the ground.

It's his moment now and I'm just his to use. Soon I feel his balls on my chin starting to pulse and he bottoms out spraying hot spurts of cum deep into my throat. I gag again and again; he knows I hate this. Reading my mind…

“I know you don't like this, baby. But that's what you deserve after you disrespected me with that dirty mouth.”

His putting his member back into his boxers and recomposing himself. Meanwhile I'm disheveled on the ground with messy hair, a sticky chin and wet cheeks.

“Come here, baby. Let me fix you up, love. You did so good, being my little cocksleeve. Your throat was so good around me, you know? So obedient for me, yes”…

“Here you are pet. Even more stunning than before, no more tears now. We gotta get to the actual party.”

“I love you”

“I love you too, bunny. That's why we do all that”

“I know, Sir. Thank you”

“Aw, you're so welcome pet.”

He stamps a sweet kiss on my forehead and thanks to that a stupid smile is planted on my face until bedtime.

(…)

“How was last night’s party, girl?”

“Mah, boring. Nothing special really” .

The end

https://fetlife.com/snotsureyet/posts/14158576

#spankings #bdsm #beach #barebottom #Domsub #discipline

“Happy Halloween!" I called after a group of guys who had taken way too many handfuls of candy from my bowl, my gaze drifting to a tall man dressed in a blue-gray janitor’s jumpsuit and a completely white mask with a wooden ax in his hand across the street.

He stood there, just staring at me, then turned away. I bit back a smirk. My boyfriend, Cory, was supposed to be over soon, and he had given me a glimpse of his costume that he planned to wear tonight over text: a picture of his veiny hand gripping an ax.

Was this him teasing me?

I shut the door and pressed my back against it, the heat growing between my thighs. Cory had just been a fling that had sorta-kinda turned into something more, because damn did he have good dick.

Another knock came at the front door. I placed the bowl of candy down on the side table and straightened myself out, tucking some hair behind my ear and unbuttoning a button on my shirt to give myself a bit more cleavage.

When I pulled the door open, Cory stood outside with his head tilted to the side in that white mask of his. “Trick or treat,” he said, his voice deep and gruff as he stepped into my house. He shut the door behind himself and ran the sharp edge of the ax up the column of my throat, then used it to lift my chin. “Give me something good to eat tonight, Blue.”

A giggle escaped my lips at his nickname that he had given me when we were in high school. I gripped him by his janitor’s jumpsuit and tugged him to the couch, falling back onto it and pulling him down with me.

We hadn’t been sleeping together for that long, but this costume tonight was the sexiest thing he had ever worn over. Even sexier than all those damn suits he dressed in for work and those tight v-necks he had for the gym.

And to top it all off… I might’ve had a bit of a mask kink.

Getting fucked by a someone in a mask, not being able to see their face, sleeping with a man who might be the ugliest mother fucker alive… God, I didn’t know why but it turned me the hell on. But it did.

Like usual, he slid his hands down my body and then in between my legs. I moaned and arched my back, spreading my thighs to give him better access. Halloween night was my favorite for many reasons.

This being one of them.

Instead of rubbing my clit like he usually did, he roughly grabbed my hips and ripped off my panties, forced me to rest my legs on his shoulders and buried his face between my thighs. He stuffed three long fingers into my mouth and lifted his mask enough to place his warm lips on my aching cunt.

“I guess I get a treat tonight too,” I moaned.

He never ate my pussy.

His stubble tickled my inner thighs as he flicked his tongue against my clit. I arched my back as the pressure built inside of me, then I shoved a hand through his dark hair, a moan escaping my lips.

He held my hips in the air and shoved his fingers deeper into my mouth, making me gag and slobber all over them. He skillfully moved his tongue faster and harder until I squirmed underneath him. My legs trembled, and I squeezed my eyes closed.

I stared down at the masked man, teetering on the edge of an orgasm. With his free hand, he flicked my nipple through my shirt, and I lost complete control, loud moans escaping my mouth and my body flailing as an orgasm rippled through me.

“Oh, god,” I moaned, gripping his hair and grinding my pussy against his face to pleasure myself. I didn’t even believe in a higher being, but… “God. God. God. God. God. God. God!” I bucked my hips as my pussy pulsed and drooled all over his face.

After growling against my pussy, he pulled down his mask to cover his face and then tugged me into the air and on top of him so I straddled his waist. I curled my fingers into his shoulders, the pleasure still drifting through my body, and ground my pussy against the enormous bulge in his janitor’s jumpsuit.

He reached between us, undid a zipper, and whipped out his dick. Once he seized my hips, he slammed me down onto him, his cock slipping into me and stretching me out more than it usually did.

He felt so big tonight that it actually… hurt a bit.

“Too big for you?” he asked, voice even more gruff.

I whined and tightened around him, still adjusting. He wrapped his arms underneath mine and gripped my shoulders, pulling me even further onto him until his balls were flush against my dripping pussy.

“T-T-Too m-much,” I whimpered, trying to lift myself back off him.

For a moment, he resisted, but then he loosened his grip on me. I lifted myself up so six whole inches slipped out but three were still buried in my pussy, then I dropped back down onto him, threw my head back, and moaned.

“Holy… fuck!”

I bounced on his dick and stared into the empty mask eyes, my pussy tightening. The pressure rose in my core again, and I gripped his hair hard in my hand and tugged it back. Cory held my hips steady and pounded up into me, meeting me every time.

“Fuck,” he grunted into his mask.

“P-Please, give me your cum,” I begged.

Usually we used a condom, or I made Cory pull out, but I didn’t give a damn tonight.

He shoved himself deep into me, spraying his cum into my tight hole. When he stilled, I couldn’t help but let out another moan and come all over him. I sat down on him and lolled my head back, pleasure rushing through me.

God, this was the best fucking night of my life.

After I crawled off him, I walked to the bathroom to clean up because so much of his cum was gushing down my thighs. But when I heard the front door open, I grabbed the toilet paper roll, pulled up my underwear, and hurried out into the living room to see him walking out the front door.

Eyes wide, I hurried over to the door. “Where are you–"

Cory’s car pulled up to the curb in front of my house. Dressed as some sort of Greek god with an ax, he shuffled out of his car and walked past whoever the hell had just been inside my house and… inside me. I swallowed hard as the man turned his head, lifted his mask up enough for me to see his lips, and smirked.

My heart pounded hard.

“Who was that?” Cory asked, walking into the house without even a kiss.

“I… I don’t know,” I whispered. “Some guy looking for candy.”

“Isn’t he a bit too old to be trick-or-treating?”

Gulping, I gripped the doorknob and pressed my thighs together to stop Cory from spotting the man’s cum running down my legs. Heat gathered in my core, and I finally closed the door for the night.

I didn’t know who the man was, but he knew my name. He had walked around my house like he had been inside it before. He had touched me like it hadn’t been his first time, like he knew my body, my mind, me.

“Y-Yeah,” I said, so Cory wouldn’t ask questions.

How would I tell him that a random man had fucked me better than he ever had?

“Did you give him any?” Cory asked.

“I did,” I whispered. “God, I did.”

Author's Note: team cory or team cory's brother?

You notice her the moment you walk into the hotel bar. She's sitting alone at the far end, nursing a glass of red wine. Mid-thirties, dark hair falling over one shoulder, a simple black dress that hugs her curves without trying too hard. The wedding ring on her left hand catches the low light every time she lifts the glass.

You take the seat two stools down. She glances over, then looks away quickly — like she's not supposed to be looking at anyone. After a few minutes you order another drink for her without asking. The bartender slides it in front of her. She turns, surprised.

"I didn't order this."

"I know," you say. "You looked like you needed it more than the one you already have."

A small, tired smile appears. "That obvious?"

You talk. At first it's polite — work, travel, the city. Then the conversation slips. She tells you she's here for a work conference. Her husband is home with the kids. When you ask how long they've been married, she answers too quickly: "Nine years." Then she goes quiet.

You wait. Finally she says, almost under her breath, "We haven't touched each other in fourteen months. Not really. He says he's tired. He's always tired. I stopped asking."

The air between you changes. She looks at her ring like it suddenly feels heavy. One more drink. Then she stands up, a little unsteady, and says she should go to her room. You walk her to the elevator. Inside, the doors close and the silence is thick. She stares at the floor numbers. You don't touch her yet. You just say, low:

"You don't have to go to your room alone."

She looks at you. Her eyes are dark, hungry, almost angry. The elevator stops on your floor. She follows you down the hall without a word.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, she turns and kisses you hard — like she's been holding it in for a year. Her mouth is desperate. You push her back against the door, hands sliding under the hem of her dress, finding bare skin and the edge of lace. She gasps when your fingers slip between her thighs. She's already soaked.

"Fuck," she whispers against your mouth. "I need this so badly."

You peel the dress off her. Black lace bra, matching panties, wedding ring still gleaming. You leave the ring on. Something about it makes the whole thing filthier. You unhook the bra, take one nipple into your mouth while your hand works between her legs. She clutches your hair and moans like she hasn't made that sound in a long time.

You drop to your knees right there in the entryway, yank her panties down, and bury your face between her thighs. She almost collapses. Her hands slam against the door for balance while you lick her open, slow and filthy, then faster when she starts rocking against your mouth. She comes hard the first time standing up, thighs trembling, one hand over her own mouth so the whole floor doesn't hear her.

You're not finished. You stand, pick her up, and carry her to the bed. She watches you undress with wide, hungry eyes. When you're naked she reaches for your cock immediately, stroking it, then guiding you between her legs. You push inside her in one long, slow thrust. She's tight from going so long without, and the sound she makes is broken — half sob, half moan.

You fuck her deep and steady at first, watching her face. Her eyes stay locked on yours. Every time you bottom out she gasps. Then she starts begging.

"Harder. Please — fuck me harder. I don't want gentle."

You give it to her. You pin her wrists above her head and drive into her harder, the bed slamming against the wall. She wraps her legs around you and pulls you deeper, nails digging into your back. When she comes the second time she cries out your name like she's angry at how good it feels.

You pull out, flip her onto her stomach, yank her hips up, and take her from behind. The new angle makes her swear. You reach around and rub her clit while you fuck her, and she shoves back against every thrust, greedy. Her wedding ring flashes every time her hand fists the sheets.

Later you sit against the headboard and pull her onto your lap. She sinks down on your cock facing you, arms around your neck, riding you slow and deep at first, then faster, grinding, chasing another orgasm. You suck on her tits while she moves, biting just hard enough to make her whimper. When she comes this time it's quieter — shaking, burying her face in your neck, whispering "don't stop, don't stop" over and over.

You don't stop. You take her again on the floor, her knees on the carpet, face pressed into the side of the bed. Then bent over the desk by the window, city lights glowing behind the curtains. She comes so many times she loses count. By the end she's limp and sweaty and still reaching for you every time you slow down.

Around 3 a.m. you both collapse on the ruined sheets. She's lying half on top of you, breathing hard, one leg still draped over yours. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your chest. The wedding ring is still there.

She doesn't say much. Just kisses your collarbone and murmurs, "I needed that more than I can even tell you."

You stay like that until the sky starts to lighten. When she finally gets up to leave, she dresses slowly, like she doesn't really want to put the clothes back on. At the door she turns, looks at you one more time, and says quietly:

"If you're still here tomorrow night… I might need it again."

Then she's gone.

The apartment on Linden Street had two bedrooms, a kitchen that smelled permanently of whatever they last cooked together, and a shared bathroom with a showerhead that only worked at full blast. Tom had moved in three weeks before Sarah, which meant he owned the bigger room by default and she got the one with the window that faced the alley. She was twenty-four, worked at a veterinary clinic, and kept a shelf of books she pretended to read. Tom was twenty-six, did freelance graphic design from his laptop, and kept a shelf of books he also pretended to read. They had agreed on a house rule that neither of them would bring dates home more than twice a month, and they had both broken that rule within the first fortnight.

It was a Tuesday in October when Sarah came home at eleven forty with a guy named Marcus who smelled like cedar and cheap cologne. Tom was on his bed with a notebook open, sketching a logo for a coffee shop in Portland, when he heard the front door, the jostling of coats, the low murmur of two people who had just spent an hour arguing about whether a pineapple belongs on pizza.

Marcus was tall. Tom could hear the difference in their footsteps on the hardwood, the heavier thud of Marcus's boots, the lighter shuffle of Sarah's heels. He heard her say something, half-laughing, and then the sound of a bedroom door closing, and then nothing for about four minutes.

He kept sketching. He was good at pretending to be absorbed in something.

What came next was not quiet.

Sarah made a sound he had never heard her make before, a short, bitten-off exhalation, and then Marcus said something low and slow, and she laughed, and the mattress creaked in a way that meant someone was on their knees. Tom put his pen down. He told himself he was checking whether the coffee shop logo needed more negative space.

There was a wet sound. Not dramatic, not performative. Just the ordinary acoustics of two people being thorough with each other in a small room with thin walls. Sarah's voice changed. It got lower, rougher at the edges, the way a person sounds when they are trying to hold something in and failing. Marcus was murmuring, and Tom could almost make out words, *there*, *right there*, *fuck*, delivered with the casual rhythm of a man who had done this many times and had stopped being surprised by it.

Tom sat up. He pulled his jeans down to his ankles.

He did it with the same half-focus he gave to his sketching, one hand moving, the other holding the notebook, eyes fixed on the coffee cup he had been drawing. The sounds from Sarah's room kept going. There was a rhythm to them now, a back-and-forth of breath and the slap of skin, and Sarah said his name, or maybe she said *oh God*, and Marcus groaned in that specific way men do when they are close, a sound that is part relief and part surrender.

Tom came fast. He always came fast. He wiped himself on the sheet he kept for this purpose and pulled his jeans back up and listened to the last sounds from down the hall, the soft collapse of bodies onto the bed, the muffled conversation of two people who were still talking even now, still catching their breath.

He went to the bathroom and washed up and brushed his teeth and lay back down in the dark, his mind doing the thing it did after: replaying, cataloguing, finding the moments he wanted to hold.

In the morning Sarah was making toast. She had the same flat affect she used for everything, calm, slightly amused, the way a person looks when they are deciding whether something is worth addressing.

Tom leaned against the kitchen counter with his coffee and said, "Sounds like Marcus went well."

Sarah looked at him. She did not flinch, exactly, but there was a tightening around her mouth.

"Sorry about the noise," she said. "I'll try to be quieter next time."

"It's fine," Tom said. "Honestly, I enjoy it. Hearing all of it. The details."

She set the toast on a plate and picked up her own. "The details."

"Yeah. Like, what he looked like. How he moved. The sounds you made." He shrugged, keeping it light. "I'm not weirding you out. I just like it."

Sarah chewed her toast slowly. She had a way of doing that, chewing like she was thinking about the structural integrity of bread.

"Here's a deal," she said. "Next time, after he leaves, you come in here. You get to hear all of it, every detail, and you lick my pussy while I tell you. The cum'll still be there. You can taste it."

Tom took a long sip of coffee. "That's a fair trade."

She smiled. It was a small, conspiratorial smile, the kind that meant she was pleased with herself.

They went about their week normally. Tom did design work. Sarah fed the cats she adopted together, two orange tabbies named after jazz musicians. They split the grocery bill. They watched a terrible reality show on Thursday and argued about the contestants' fashion choices.

Then Saturday came.

Sarah texted him at six in the evening: *Guy's over. Name's Dev. Don't judge the name.*

Tom typed back: *Never.*

Dev arrived at seven. He was shorter than Marcus, stockier, and Tom could hear the difference immediately, a different weight, a different cadence. Dev talked more than Marcus had. There was a lot of laughing, a lot of Dev saying *no, no, you're wrong about that* in a voice that carried warmth rather than conviction.

The bedroom door closed at eight fifteen.

Tom went to his room and lay on his bed with his phone face-down. He did not jerk off this time. He told himself it was because he was saving it, but really it was because he was curious. He wanted to know what Sarah sounded like with someone different.

And she did sound different.

Dev made her laugh. That was the first thing, the way she giggled, breathless, between moans, as though she couldn't stop finding it funny even while she was losing control. Dev said things she responded to, and her responses were longer, more verbal, more like a person narrating their own experience rather than just making sounds.

At one point she said, "You're so big," and Dev laughed and said, "I know, baby, I know," and Sarah made a sound that was almost a cry, high and thin, and then swallowed it.

Tom listened until midnight. He listened to Dev's hands on her hips, to the specific wet sounds of them moving, to Sarah telling him to go slower and then faster, to Dev saying *I'm gonna come inside you* like it was a promise and a threat in the same sentence. He listened to her scream, briefly, and then collapse into silence, and then the softer sounds of recovery, Dev's fingers in her hair, both of them breathing hard.

He went to the bathroom and showered and came out at half past twelve, when he heard the front door.

Dev was saying something to Sarah, a goodbye, maybe a *call me tomorrow*, and then the sound of his boots on the stairs.

Tom waited five minutes. Then he crossed the hallway and opened Sarah's door.

She was lying on her bed, naked, on her back, with the sheets pushed down to her waist. Her hair was spread across the pillow in a dark mess. Her face had that look she got after, flushed, eyes slightly unfocused, lips parted. And yes, there was cum on her, a visible sheen between her thighs, a small amount already leaking out, glistening in the light from the streetlamp outside her window.

Tom sat on the edge of the bed. He put his hand on her hip, the way Dev probably had, and felt her skin hot under his palm.

"Tell me," he said.

Sarah looked at him. Her eyes were still a little glazed. She smiled, slow, and spread her legs wider on the bed, propping her feet on the mattress.

"Okay," she said. "So. His hands were huge. Like, genuinely enormous. He put them on my hips and he could almost wrap around them. And his skin was, I don't know, rougher than Marcus's. Calloused. Like he worked with his hands a lot."

Tom lowered his head. He put his tongue to her, flat and slow, tracing the outer edge of her labia first, the swollen pink of her, still slick, still wet with what Dev had left inside her.

"He kissed me everywhere," Sarah said, her voice going a little breathy. "Not just the obvious places. My neck, my ribs, the inside of my wrist. He kept whispering things. Like, *you're so pretty when you're dirty.*"

Tom sucked on her clitoris, gently, and she arched her back and let out a small, involuntary sound.

"And then he pulled my pants down and he just, he didn't ask. He just sat on me and pushed in. Slowly. And I could feel, God, I could feel the size of him before he even went in. He was so thick. And he stopped halfway and he looked at me, like he was checking if I was okay, and I said *keep going* and he did."

Tom moved his tongue to the entrance of her, the soft, swollen lips of her, and tasted the salt and the warmth of her, the faint metallic sweetness of Dev's seed mixing with her own juices. She was tight, even without penetration, even with just his mouth on her, and she gripped the sheets with both hands.

"He fucked me on the bed first," Sarah said. "Face down. He held my hips and he was so, deliberate. Every thrust was, it wasn't fast, it was deep. Like he was trying to find something inside me. And he'd pull out almost all the way and then push back in and I'd feel him hit, like right at the bottom, and I'd just, I couldn't make a sound, I was shaking."

Tom sucked her clitoris harder, rolled his tongue against it, and felt her thighs clamp around his head. He tasted more of Dev's cum, the way it had mixed with her, gone slightly thick, slightly sour, and he swallowed.

"Then he flipped me over," Sarah continued, her voice dropping lower, getting rougher. "And he put his hands on my throat. Not tight, just, there. And he looked at me and said, *look at me.* And he fucked me from behind and it was, the angle was different. Deeper. I could feel it pressing against something and I didn't know what, but it made me cry out."

Tom moved lower, licking the crease where her pussy met her body, working his tongue along the seam, drawing out the last of the cum, the last of Dev's evidence of himself. Sarah's hips bucked. She was close, he could feel it, the way her muscles tightened around his mouth.

"He came inside me twice," she said. "The second time he held me down with both hands, flat on my chest, and he said, *I'm filling you up,* and he just, he stayed inside me for a long time after. Like he didn't want to leave. And I could feel him pulsing."

Tom kissed the inside of her thigh, then back to the center, and she came quietly, a shudder that ran through her whole body, her toes curling, her breath catching in short bursts.

"After," Sarah said, softer now, her hands finding Tom's hair, "he sat up and he wiped me with a tissue. And he said, *you were incredible,* and I said, *you were incredible too,* and he laughed and said, *yeah, I guess I was.*"

Tom stayed on his knees for a while, tasting the aftermath. He licked her clean, slowly, thoroughly, the way she had asked. When he finally sat back, she was looking at him with that flat, satisfied expression she wore like a coat.

"Same time next week?" she said.

"Same time next week," Tom said.

He walked back to his room, sat down at his desk, and opened his notebook. The coffee shop logo still needed work. But he thought about the sound of Sarah's voice saying *you're so big* and the way Dev had laughed, and he realized he had been thinking about the apartment, the two rooms, the thin walls, for longer than he had been thinking about Portland.

He turned the page. He started sketching something new.

Alex wasn’t the most popular or social guy on campus to say the least. Yeah, he has friends, but if you broke it down, they all either made contact with him first, or he was accepted into a group. Which was funny, considering how opposite his roommate to that was. 

Alex had brown hair that he didn’t seem to care much about, and had let a beard start to grow in that needed more attention and care than he gave it. A bit of a dad bod, but kept it under control by doing intramural sports rather than going to the gym. He was a bit hairy and barrel chested with somewhat thick arms and legs, that too, in stark contrast to the naturally smooth or worse, body shavers. But any self confidence or image issues he had he’d seem to have overcome. 

He was nice, genuinely so, and smarter and more wise than a lot of people realized, which was why he became such good friends with Rachel. Boy, was she something. Even he knew it. She was pretty smart, and seemed to be ogled not just by the guys on campus, but by a respectable portion of the girls as well. A stereotypical party girl who spent her weekend nights having time she’d be too drunk to remember. 

Rachel had dirty blonde hair, a relatively skinny build, stunningly green eyes, a cute ass and perky, firm tits, but her past as a gymnast and cheerleader had kept her flexible and fit. She knew, of course, that Alex had a crush on her. He’d let something slip here or there before, but he never acted on it and didn’t act like he wanted to bed her like most guys she interacted with. Pair that with them having had a number of classes together, it was another unlikely pairing. 

She’d tried to set him up a few times with varying results, but nothing seemed to stick. Though he never brought it up when asked about it, a few of the potential partners and hookups she’d set in motion did come back with a few similar lines about how he acted between the sheets, in the car, or even behind some sand dunes. “Good for him.” She thought, but hadn’t thought about finding those leads out. 

The two of them were walking out of class on a Monday night, with the campus going on a short break starting Wednesday. A good portion of people simply skipped this week, so a noticeable amount of foot traffic and classmates were absent. 

“I’m actually looking forward to some downtime.” Rachel said to him as she got done pretending to engage in a conversation with a guy who wanted to get his dick in her. “Not with that, though.”

“You goin home?” Alex asked.

“No, I decided last minute to stay here. It’s almost a seven hour drive home and I don’t really feel like doing that and turning right back around.” 

“Not a bad idea. So what are you gonna do? Is Amy or any of them sticking around also?” 

“Amy is, I think Blake and Melinda are also, but not for the whole time. I think there leaving for a day or two.” 

“So you really are gonna have some quiet them then, huh?” Alex asked, relieved on her behalf. 

“Oh absolutely. I’m going to lay around in my pajamas all day, do a bit of homework, and just rot. I need it.” She sounded even more relieved than he did. “You’re sticking around, right?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Parker is gone and Masons dropout stuff is formal so he’s gone for good. I’ll have the suite to myself and told Parker I’d get it cleaned up a bit.”

The two came to a divide in the path, but stopped once they realized they were going separate ways. 

“You gonna start rotting now?” He asked with a smile. 

“You bet. I’m going to be in bed with something salty in the next 15 minutes, otherwise I’m gonna get upset.” She chuckled. 

“Have fun with that. I’m an expert introvert and since you’re operating like me for a bit, let me know if it’s too much for you to handle. I’ll give you some tips.” 

“Haha ok, Master of the Lonely Arts. See ya.” She said, taking a few steps back. 

“See ya, kid.” Alex said, heading towards the dining hall. 

Even though Rachel was three months older than Alex, he still seemed older and called her kid, which she didn’t seem to hate. There was a comfort in it she couldn’t fully explain. 

A bit before 1pm the next day, she called Alex, one of the few people who didn’t have something smartass to say if you called him unprompted. 

“I’m bored already. How do you do this for days on end?” She started, skipping any hello or initial phone small talk. 

“You get used to it, and you get good at it. What’ve you been watching?” He asked. 

Rachel was in her room, wearing slightly loose cotton booty shorts and a white shirt that she’d never wear in public without a bra on. Alex was in his room as well, shirtless and in gym shorts that were older than he was. 

“Reality TV. It used to be a guilty pleasure, but I just don’t care about it anymore.” She complained. “What are you watching?” 

He coughed a few times and said, “Cartoons.” 

“And you’re sober, right?” She asked, knowing the answer. 

“But of course. Not like I’m an unsuspecting functioning pot head or anything like that.” He said, moving the small bong to the side so he can put his feet up on the desk. 

“Less damaging than-“ he started before she cut him off. 

“I know, don’t get all preachy on me.” She said with a sigh. 

“Is that what you’re doing the whole break?” She asked after a few moments of silence. 

“No. I’m gonna be lazy for a bit before I start getting stuff done. You gonna watch tv that you hate all break?”

“God no.” She responded. 

“Want to come over and watch cartoons for a while? I promise I’ll put pants on and get the scores of sexually worn out women out of here in time if you do.” He joked, them both knowing it was too far from the truth to be even slightly taken seriously. 

She sighed. “I do need training on how to be a bum, so sure. When can I come by?” 

“Uh, whenever you want. Though if I one of my conquests forgets her panties here, feel free to take em as your own.” He chuckled. 

“That’s disgusting, ew.” She chuckled back. “Ok I’ll get changed and head over.” 

“Wait.” He said. “If you want to be a bum, you need to look the part. Don’t get all dolled up or wear anything normal, just probably come in the pajamas you’re still rockin.” 

“And how do you know I’m not being a nudist? I’ve got the place to myself.” She challenged him. 

“I know you already don’t have the anatomy for it, but you don’t have the balls to be naked for a whole day if you’re not having iffy sex with washed up finance bros.” 

“Hey, really. That’s what you think?” She asked, a bit offended. 

“No, I’m just being dramatic, and I’ve been to the parties a handful of times, I know your type.” 

“You don’t know-“ she begun. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He interrupted. “Why don’t you start walking over here and on the way, prepare your argument and let me have it when you walk in. Doors gonna be unlocked.” 

“Fine. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Asshole.” 

“You will not be seeing my asshole in a few minutes.” He said with a disarming laugh. 

“Shut up.” She snickered as she hung up the phone. 

Rachel stretched and threw the covers off her, laying in bed, arms and legs spread wide as she stared up at the ceiling fan. She didn’t feel the need to rush over, and didn’t imagine he’d be waiting anxiously for her, so she spent some time thinking about ways to be “a bum” and pass time with things she didn’t do, or didn’t often do. Ideas ran through her mind until the idea of masturbating came to mind. It wasn’t something she did often, as her sex life was active enough. She came back to the idea, considering how long it had been since the last time she got off on her own. Knowing she wasn’t expected over at his suite urgently, she figured why not?

She rolled over and under her bed, reached for a locked case that had cute, girly, disarming stickers on it. Opening it, she found her green, 5 inch smooth silicone dildo and a medium sized bullet vibrator. She selected the dildo and took her shirt off, resting it underneath her so any remnants got onto that and not her sheets. She took her shorts off and flicked them across the room. Licking her fingers and rubbing herself to get warmed up, she had the idea to try to suck on the dildo while she did that, and it seemed to kickstart her libido. She slid the green dildo inside of her always shaved, pretty pink pussy, and spent roughly the next five minutes sliding it in and out, but it wasn’t quite enough, and she was behind the point of no return now.  So she got her phone and found a very standard porn video and watched that. Another eight or so minutes later, she was closer, but it just wasn’t right. Maybe it was the video. She found a different one from a channel that put random college students together. She found one with a hot guy and started watching it. Two of his videos later, she was still going at it, and about to finally orgasm. 

She’d forgotten why she didn’t masturbate often, as it hadn’t seemed to have done the trick as well before. But was finally close, almost 20 inconsistent minutes later. As her back arched before she came, her eyes were pulled up on the screen to a text from Alex that said, “You coming?” 

Her brain took over and rather than the fit hunk with washboard abs in place of the green dildo, her brain put Alex there instead, and boy, did she cum. She laid there, panting and coiled up. Her little pussy didn’t make a mess this time, but she was quite the wet mess. It took her another 20 to get cleaned up, clean off the dildo, return it to its place, and walk out the door in long fuzzy pajama pants, slippers, an athletic bra, some unflattering but comfortable underwear, and a long sleeve shirt. 

When she got to his suite, she cracked the door and loudly said, “put your dick away, I’m walking in!” He came up from the other side of the door, pulling it open. 

“Say it a bit louder next time, will ya?” He said, not noticing her gaze on his shirtless torso. He closed the door behind her as she looked around. 

Rachel had come by the suite once before, but hadn’t actually gone inside before. “Oh, it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be in here.” 

“Good?” Alex replied, not sure to take it as a compliment or as an insult. “What took you so long?” He asked innocently as he made for the couch. 

She had to think quickly, her cheeks a bit warm and ashamed of what sent her over the edge. “I was being a bum.” She said, walking in front of him and taking her spot in a recliner. 

“Good shit.” He said approvingly. 

It didn’t smell like weed or gross guy in here, and while not spotless, it felt homey, and the breeze from the open windows was welcomed. 

“So, what cartoons did you watch growing up?” He asked. 

Rachel listed a few before Alex threw one on and they began to watch. Almost 5 hours later, she was starting to get hungry for dinner, and so was he. 

“Dining hall, go somewhere, or bring something back here?” He asked. 

“I need a change of scenery for a bit, I can’t just go all in on the bum thing right away, and I don’t feel like going to get my wallet. Let’s just hit the dining hall?”

“Sounds like a plan. Give me a sec.” He stood up and went into his bedroom, not bothering to close the door as he found a shirt, putting it on as he reentered the living room. “You ready?”

The two walked to the dining hall, only to find it closed. After considering next steps, they decided to go about a mile off campus to a local sub shop. 

“Let me go get my wallet first.” Rachel said.

“No, no, no. Don’t worry about it. Being a bum isn’t just about being lazy, but mooching off people when you can. I’ll cover you, don’t worry about it.” He said. “And no guff. Move it, missy.” As he pointed towards the shop. 

The two walked over, healthy conversation the whole way. It turned to playful banter from time to time, but he never outwardly hit on her. Rachel was getting maybe annoyed with herself about the feelings she was developing for a friend, but maybe thinking about it as she was, was only compounding it.

Their dinner and scenic, long way walk back did feel like a date she needed. Alex was pretending, in his own mind, that it was, it seemed. He was a bit more touchy. As in, a few shoulder bumps here and there or arm brushes, but that was it. 

They returned to campus and at the split in the path that went to their separate dorms, he asked, “Think you got any more left in ya?” 

She thought about it and said, “let’s find a movie or two this time?” 

“Can do.” He said and in a way that was corny and ridiculous, not necessarily romantic and sincere, he stuck his arm out for her to hold onto as they walked, and she happily did. 

The two walked joyfully back to his dorm and plopped down on the couch, finding something to watch. He used the little bong a few times, but didn’t get too far gone. Rachel even had some, a rarity, but she knew her limits as well. 

There was a scene where the weird, nerdy male protagonist was masturbating, but his friends came by to surprise him, and they sure did. It was a funny scene, but Rachel went back to the reason she was late coming over initially. A few scenes later, she decided just to ask a question she’d had on her mind for years. 

“Is it true that guys masturbate a lot more often than girls do?” She sat up abruptly. 

The question and tone absolutely took Alex by surprise. It showed on his face as he paused the movie, and in the tone of his words. 

“What?” 

“Like, I don’t know. Guys have this reputation of jerking off every chance they get. Do you really do that? No, seriously. I mean it.”

Alex couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the question. He could tell she was embarrassed, and started to reign himself back in. 

“Ok, ok. Oh God. Uh, damn. Ha I mean, maybe once we first figure it out? That’s more so when it’s a lot, but, at least with guys, I don’t know how it is for girls, but sometimes it’ll just pop up regardless of where or when. And you’re not always wanting to return it to normal by rubbing one out. Me, personally, sure, there’ve been a few times where I’ll just break my dick off by hammering away at it, but not really. It’s also super dependent on the guy himself, his situation, his state of mind. I’m sure it’s that way for girls as well. Like, no way you hump anything you can get your legs around.” 

The immediate look of fright on his face was funny to Rachel. 

“Not that I’m calling you a slut now. Or that you were before. I just worded it wrong to, like, compare? I guess?” 

“No, no, I get what you mean.” Rachel said. “I was just curious.”

“Why do you ask?” Alex follows up, suspiciously. 

“Well, I don’t really know. I guess I’ve always sort of wondered that, and when I think about what being a ‘bum’ would entail, that was one of those things. Just masturbating the day away.” She said, not wanting to look at him. 

“Haha, I’ve had those days. They’re fun, if you can do em and not sit in whatever shame mess you’ve made for too long. Mentally or otherwise. Though, and confidential information, I think the best time to do it is at like 9pm, that way you can go for a while and not necessarily be, done, I guess, at like 2am.”

His phone started to vibrate and he picked it up, taking it across the room. “Hey what’s up?”

Rachel thought nothing of it. When she did it earlier today, it took a while, and she’d do it differently if she did it again. 

“No, I can’t tonight. I’m hanging out with some friends and I’ll be getting out of town early in the morning.” He said. 

Rachel decided to let the stream of consciousness around her future masturbation intentions flow, though it did have some physical effects. 

“Uh, no, I probably can’t get on the toy for you either. Because I’m with people, it would be weird.” His voice was more hushed as we went into the other room, closing the door. 

“Who was that?” She asked upon his return. 

“Oh, uh, nobody.” He said, sitting back down. 

“Move time or did you want to ask more weird questions about masturbating?” 

“I’m good.” She said. “Movie time, for sure.” 

The rest of the movie played and wrapped up around 9pm, and she decided to head back after that. 

“Same thing tomorrow?” Alex asked, holding the door open for her. 

“Something like that.” She said, walking off. 

That night, she decided rather than being a bum, she wanted to be a slut, but by herself. 

She laid in her bed and was able to push back all voices of doubt. She edged herself from about 9:30 to a bit after 10:45, then gave in. She’d aggressively humped the pillow that she put the bullet inside of, leaving a bit of a wet mark on the pillow case, before using the bullet and the dildo to turn her neat little pussy into a tender, creamy mess. 

By the time reality came back to her, it was almost 12:30 in the morning, and she couldn’t help but sit in the shame mess she’d made of herself, but didn’t feel shame. Just pleasure and ease. She laid there on her back, worn out but not braindead as she noticed that she’d gotten so wet and messy down there, she could feel it against her asshole. 

“Fuck it.” She thought. She’d only done anal twice, and turned, putting the dildo against her asshole and rubbing the dead bullet against her pussy. She let out a shriek as her face rolled into the wet spot on the pillow she’d made earlier. And one orgasm later, she felt that shame. 

She got herself cleaned up, changed her sheets and the pillowcase, showered, and crawled into bed naked, for the deepest sleep she’d had in a few years. 

Before she opened her eyes the next morning, her libido was still high, and for some reason, it didn’t take her long to orgasm after waking up, so she decided to just do it, rubbing her little clit till it send shockwaves through her. 

Rachel met Alex for lunch before they went back to his place for more “bum time” as he put it. In this lounge about, he’d remained shirtless, but had on white sweatpants, while she had on a sweatshirt and a tight tank top that matched in color. 

During the second movie, which started after 9pm, she’d found herself cuddled up against him. He was in the recliner, her in his lap, and she could feel his rapid heartbeat. 

During a poorly done sex scene in the movie, she asked him “Did you be a bum last night with whoever was on the phone?” 

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. I just didn’t feel like seeing her.” He said.

“Why not?” She asked as he paused the screening. 

“I don’t know. Didn’t really feel like it, I guess.” He said. 

“You hardly get any play, and turned some down when it was offered to you?” She asked, not fully believing him. 

“I mean, yeah. It’s like 45 minutes there and her place is unorganized and messy as she is. Its not all bad, but just didn’t feel like following up on it.” 

“What uh, why do you have a toy? Like is it her kids or something?” She asked as genuinely innocently as one could be. 

“Oh.” He said before laughing. His heaving chest felt warm as she laid on it. “No, that uh, God no. A kid should not have access to it.” 

“You have a sex toy of hers?” Rachel was confused. 

“No, not really. It’s uh. I don’t think you’d much care to know.” He said. 

“Just tell me. Sounds like something scandalous and shameful. I’m interested.” She sat up. 

“Uh, well,” Alex began. “It’s like a vibrator, dildo sort of thing. She can use it on her own like normal, but there’s a way for me to control it remotely for her. I’m really good at it and when we can’t meet up, well sometimes do that.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, now more interested, and unfortunately, a little jealous. 

“Like, so it vibrates, but I can control the speed, intensity, that sort of stuff, of both parts of it.” He was blushing with embarrassment, but also rapidly thinking of ways to change the conversation so the cock in his sweats wouldn’t make itself known to her. 

“That sounds fun actually.” She admitted. “I uh, took your advice last night and was a total degenerate. It was fun, and I slept great.” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of knew you would do that.” He admitted. “I thought about texting you something super random around 11, just to see if it would throw you off, but decided against it.” 

“It was fun, and I liked it a lot, but there’s just something better about doing it with someone and not always to yourself.” She said, filthy thoughts and hopes of him running through her mind as she caught herself rubbing his chest. 

“You trying to admit something?” He asked, a sudden tone change in his voice. 

“No, I’m not.” She said, wanting to believe it. 

“Ok then.” He said, unpausing the movie and seeming pay it to mind. 

But a few minutes later, she felt his arm wrap around her lower stomach, and he gently slid her so she had his back against him, her ass lined up so his cock pressed into her crack. 

“I’m down to be a bit shameful if you are. I can tell it’s still in your head.” And with that, he started feeling her pussy over her sweats, “and elsewhere.” 

She had a short, shuttering breath as her arm found his, holding it, nodding. She closed her eyes as his rubbing persisted and became more deliberate. As she began to gently moan, his other hand went up her shirt, holding her breast. She leaned forward, took her shirt off and undid her bra. 

Rachel went to turn around, but he refuted her. “No.” He said in a soft, yet firm voice. “I want you to do something a bit shameful.” 

The hand on her pussy slipped under her sweats and underwear, taking only a few rapid heartbeats to find where it needed to be. The movie progress as he teased and lingered on her pussy like that. Getting her closer and closer, slowing down, and resuming. 

“Alex,” she muttered. 

“Do you need my permission, or can I trust you to do it on your own.” He said, kissing her back. 

“Tell me it’s ok.” She whined. “Tell me it’s ok that I do.” 

“It’s not just ok, it’s required. I want you to cum as often as you need to, right now, it’s on my fingers. Be my princess of pleasure and cum in your pants for me.” 

She melted as she came, a grunting “Fuck” escaping her mouth as his free arm wrapped around her, holding her in place. Usually when she’s with a guy, he’s never this sensual. Actually, she’s never had that. Typically it’s some guy who can barely get her off before he cums and it’s over. 

She whined as he withdrew her hand, sticking his fingers with her juices in her mouth. She’d never done that before, and quite liked how it made her feel, more sore than the taste of it. 

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “I need a real dick, not a fake one.” She stood up and quickly undressed, but turning around, she looked confused as he was still in his sweats. 

“Do me a favor, take like two small steps back.” He said, and she did. He slid off the chair and got eye level with her pussy. Looking at it for the first time, she decided to show it off a bit. 

But as she did, he grabbed her legs and pulled her midsection right into his face, where he began to eat her out with such skill and confidence as if he’d done it a thousand times. 

College guys didn’t really go down on girls, so it was welcomed. She spread her legs a bit and put her hands in his hair as he went to town. His hands firmly held her by the ass as he quite loudly devoured her pussy. 

“Oh my God, fuck I’m gonna cum again.” She said as a warning. As she came a creamy orgasm, she yelled as she felt two of his fingers push up inside her as his tongue stayed focused on her clit. 

“Oh shit.” She said, legs getting week. She turned and fell onto the chair, he only stopped a moment before resuming his work. His two fingers went inside her and curled while his tongue danced on her clit. “Holy shit, Alex. What the fuck?” 

She laughed and moaned, putting her hands over her face as she was helpless to his actions. 

“Oh my God!” She said louder. “What the fuck?” As her hips and legs began to squirm and twitch. “What are you doing to me?”

While barely removing his mouth far enough to speak, his hot breath tingling her pussy, he said, “Seeing if you’re a squirter or not.” 

“No, I’ve never, holy fuck dude!” A wildly intense orgasm that started to convulse her body took over. 

He suddenly stopped, and playfully said, “What?” With a dumbass grin on is face. 

She could see her juices around his mouth and pulled him back into place by the hair, and he did not object. 

“Fucking, wow!” She moaned out. “I’m gonna cum!” She warned. 

His tongue stopped working her clit, only for the attention to be paid by his hand, which began to rapidly rub her clit in unison with the motion of his fingers.  

“Noooo” she began to say as small gushes of squirt gave way to a blast that hit him in the face and chest. 

“There we go!” He shouted, not stopping rubbing her clit.

She didn’t speak or moan, just squirmed and squirted, something she’d never done before and didn’t think she could. 

She laid in the chair slumped, wet, and whimpering as he stood up. She watched as he undressed himself, revealing the daunting item he possessed between his legs. 

“Fuck,” she commented. 

“That’s the plan,” he said. He entered her about halfway before picking her up. Her legs wrapped around him and forced his cock deeper inside her. 

They walked into his bedroom like that, each step as if it were a deep thrust. He laid her down and started to hammer his cock into her. A more normal but powerful orgasm racked her body, but he persisted. 

Her legs dangled off the bed before he lifted them up into the air, holding them close together for a while, before laying them out wide and spread. 

“How, fuck,” she said as she desperately rubbed her own clit to orgasm. She watched as the two of them went to town on her, eyes wide, not wanting to miss anything. 

His girthy cock taking her pussy for himself, she could see a bulge in her stomach from where he could reach. Once the orgasm hit its highest point, she pushed him out and she managed to squirt again. She covered her wet, throbbing pussy and went into the fetal position. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on I need a minute.” Her body shuttered and spasmed as her thighs got wet with her own intoxicating substances. She turned her body and desperately grabbed at his cock, taking it in her hand before feeding it to her mouth. 

It was amazing, not just in size, but in taste. He not only kept it clean, but the taste of it and herself got her back on track. 

She released it from her mouth after drooling on it. Going to the middle of the bed, she went face down ass up, turning to him. “Pick a hole.”

He got on the bed but rather than penetrating her, he put his mouth to both holes, introducing himself that way as she giggled and moaned. Nobody’s eaten her ass before, and she quite liked it, but thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of his cock entering her pussy once again.  

Her legs gave out and she fell flat on her tits as he continued in her pussy before an unannounced entry into her asshole. She tried to scamper away, but couldn’t help but also back herself onto it. 

“I’m such a slut,” she moaned out, mindless and weak. 

He laid on top of her, his mouth to her ear and a hand on her clit, he thrusted into her ass more. 

“I think you’re more of a shameful, slutty princess.” That send her over another edge and she felt herself squirt directly into his sheets, it having nowhere to go but to spread and get on herself. “Your slutty princess.” She cried out. 

He sat up and grabbed her ass, slapping it as he groaned out an “Oh fuck.” 

“Cum. I want your cum.” She said. She drooled into the pillow as he withdrew his cock. He pulled her down the bed so her head rested in the fresh squirt puddle she’d left behind. Something possessed her to lick at the stain. 

“Holy fuck, you are a slut!” He exclaimed as he got back in her pussy. 

She sat up and grabbed him around the neck, wrapping her legs around him. Looking directly into his eyes, she said “cum in me”, just over the sound of the skin on skin slamming. 

The look in his eyes went from strong and in control, to weak and desperate. “Huh?” He asked, but didn’t stop. 

“You heard me,” she said seductively. “I want that big cock to empty itself inside my little pussy. Claim me, I’ll claim you.” She said, holding onto him tighter in every regard. 

He still looked uncertain, but willing to accept.

“I’m your shameful princess. Are you my big strong knight? Or my horny good boy?” 

He let out a moan, eyes momentarily closing. “That.” He whined. “I’m your good boy, fuck toy.” 

“You’re only a good boy if you cum in me.” She felt another, likely final, orgasm building, but held it back. 

She quickly yanked him down and rolled on top of him. “No choice but to fill your princess up, now.” She said. 

He reached for her tits and she held them there as he began to cum. It was powerful and heavy, quickly filling her insides up and managing to leak out and down him as she put her full weight onto holding his cock deep in her pussy. 

He bucked and came harder than she’d made any other guy cum before, and she came as well. The shared orgasm sent them both well into the stratosphere and beyond. 

As they began to return to Earth, she slumped down on top of him. She lifted her hips and his cock fell out with a wet pop noise. She felt the cum fall out of her pussy and down onto him, where it dripped down his shaft and to the sheets as a few droplets leaked from his tip. 

The two laid there before starting to gently kiss. But that kiss turned passionate. 

“Oh no,” he said. 

“Huh?” 

“I need to cum a little more.” 

“Fuck, really?” She said, astonished. “I can’t, but…”

She kissed her way down his body and wrapped her hands around his cock. Her mouth enveloped it, cleaning off the cum as his legs twitched. 

“Just stroke it,” he groaned out. “Please.”

“You said you’re my fuck toy, I’ll do what I want.” 

He sat up on his elbows and watched her work. 

She looked up at him, her tongue dancing on his tip as her hand stroked his shaft. 

He began to twitch and moan before cumming. A few bursts of it got on her face, and she caught the rest of it in her mouth, not letting her firm grasp of his cock release until there was no possible way for him to have more cum. He moaned and twitched and squirmed as she did her thing. 

His final moans leaving his lips as she laid back down next to him, cuddling. 

“You whimper like a cute little bitch.” She said jokingly. 

“And you don’t?” He retorted. 

The two laid there for a while under the slow, constant turning of the quiet ceiling fan. 

“I should go,” Rachel said eventually, but not wanting to. 

“You can stay the night. I gotta swap the sheets with the clean set anyway.” He said. 

She sat up, his eyes on her tits not her face, but she didn’t mind. “You keep a clean backup set?”

“Don’t most people?” He asked. 

“I don’t think so, but so do I.” She said. 

“Of course you do.” Alex retorted. “If you go turn the shower on, maybe we can clean off together?”

“I’d love that.” Rachel said. “But I need a break, so no shower sex, unfortunately babe.” 

His cheeks flushed red at the nickname. “Ha, no. If I could I would, but I got nothin left to give.”

She looked down at his cock and gently toyed with it. He twitched and whimpered, pushing her hands back. “You’ve definitely got something.” She said. 

Rachel got up and went to the bathroom to get the shower ready for them both, not worried about the consequences of his heavy creampie. She was on birth control and had it in her bedroom, which she would go get in the morning. 

Alex joined her in the shower, and it was very intimate, and a bit goofy as the recent activity and evolution of their friendship had forever changed. 

As they died off and returned to his bedroom, she realized she didn’t want to sleep in her cum marked clothes. 

“Uh, do you have anything I can change into?”

“I do,” he said, “though I was thinking. First one awake gets to decide how they wake up the other?” 

Rachel chuckled and lead him to the clean sheets by the hand, falling down on them first. “You’re such a whore.”

“So are you.” He said joining her.

They didn’t know who was the first to fall asleep or how much later it was. 

But she woke up the next morning to his tongue against her clit, waking her up with a moan.  

Rolling Meadows is a subdivision in Middlebury, IN. Well, more of a cul de sac with a couple of homes around it on County Road 20. Nine homes make up the cul de sac with a pair of homes on each side yet only one across the street from the makeshift development.

Toward the back of the cul de sac lives Rachael, 42, another stay at home mother, but this one living her life in thanks because her ex-husband cheated on her despite the prenup.

The 5’4” redhead with pale skin and a great ass is the head of the local PTA in Middlebury, and very much involved in everything she can be. The name Karen is often associated with her.

The person drawing her ire today is her next door neighbor to the right of her house. She was never able to catch the home owner to complain about the tree that was hanging over the fence into Rachael’s yard. Rachael just knew this tree was going to end up getting hit by lightning then who knows what would happen as a result.

As Rachael was headed out the door to go to a PTA meeting about banning certain books from the school library she noticed that this particular neighbor just happened to have pulled into their garage.

Rachael dropped her bags in the car, and hurried over her ass swinging as she walks tightly clad in her suit skirt, her heels clicking along the pavement.

Once at her neighbor’s door, she pounds on the door, impatient and all the irritation of the ignored messages she’d left bubbling up.

She continued to pound on the door until it opened in a whoosh. Suddenly Rachael found herself staring right in the chest of a much taller woman. Rachael looked down to see the outline of something she didn’t expect in the crotch of the yoga pants the taller woman was wearing as her eyes drifted back up to the annoyed look of the neighbor she’d kept missing.

The taller woman was in her 30’s, about 6’7” with curves and blonde hair.

Rachael was flustered in a way she hadn’t been since high school.

“What?”

Asked the neighbor.

Rachael gathered herself focusing on the task at hand, but couldn’t speak with the same gumption she had in other encounters. No, her voice was quiet, as if she was afraid of inconveniencing this woman.

“Uh…umm…well, the tree-“

“The tree? The one hanging over the fence? Yeah, I’ve had a hectic schedule lately, but I was planning on getting to that today.”

Rachael just stares in awe. She doesn’t respond, and the woman smiles looking Rachael up and down.

“You want to come in? I just put on a pot of coffee.”

Rachael nods. Again, her voice quiet, submissive.

“Thank you.”

She walks past the woman, and the woman shuts the door behind her. Rachael follows the woman into the living room, boxes are everywhere, most unpacked, a few opened. The furniture isn’t set up in any way to suggest anything other than the movers had dropped them where they were at.

Rachael sat on the awkwardly placed couch, as the woman went into the kitchen to grab them some coffee.

“Sorry the place is a mess. I haven’t been here much in the six months since I moved in. Oh, I’m Tara by the way.”

Tara came whirling back into the living room handing Rachael a Wonder Woman coffee mug.

“I’m Rachael. I live at the house over there.”

She points in the direction of her house. Tara nods, taking a sip of her coffee as she sits next to Rachael facing her on the couch.

Rachael’s eyes are immediately drawn to Tara’s crotch and the outline. It was girthy.

Tara looks down, and immediately turns red.

“Oh, sorry, forgot I was in these. I’m trans in case you hadn’t guessed.”

Rachael’s eyes get wide. It dawns on her what the outline is, and how stupid she is for not knowing that.

“But you’re hot!”

Rachael blurts out. Tara laughs as Rachael tries to string together a coherent sentence, and stops her with a finger to Rachael’s lips.

“First off, thank you. It’s not that big a deal really. You’re fine. Everyone has a different reaction. And you’re hot too.”

It’s Rachael’s turn to blush.

“I just never thought I’d have a transgender woman as my neighbor. I am sorry. You seem lovely.”

Tara looks at Rachael studying the PTA mom, Rachael blushes struggling to meet Tara’s gaze. Tara puts her coffee down, and Rachael follows suit.

Then Tara places a finger on Rachael’s chin guiding Rachael’s face to meet hers, their eyes locking. Rachael’s breath shortens. Tara pulls Rachael closer. Rachael can feel Tara’s breath on her. Tara pulls Rachael in, their lips meet, it’s soft, sweet, but intense.

Their lips part slightly, Tara’s tongue slightly penetrating Rachael’s lips meeting her tongue then pulling back.

Tara breaks their kiss, Rachael trying to lean back in so their lips can meet once more, but isn’t successful.

“Mmmm. How long has it been, Rachael.”

“12 years.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, that won’t do. You’re too gorgeous to go that long. Shall we end your drought?”

Tara kisses Rachael again, this time applying more pressure, their breast pressing against each other as their tongues dance. Rachael realizes just how soaked her panties are for the first time.

Tara breaks the kiss, and Rachael eagerly nods.

“Yes, yes please, end my drought.”

Tara stands, taking Rachael’s hand helping her to her feet.

“Shoes and skirt stay here.”

Rachael kicks her shoes off and immediately undoes her skirt as it falls to the floor. Tara helps Rachael out of her coat too, and takes a look at the redheaded milf before her in panties, a bra, and a dress shirt.

“Come.”

Tara leads her back to the bedroom. As soon as they cross the threshold, Tara shuts the door and grabs Rachael lifting the shorter woman and pinning her against the wall.

Again they kiss, this time Rachael wrapping her legs around the waist of Tara as Tara kneads Rachael’s breast through her shirt and bra.

It’d been so long Rachael forgot how sensitive her breast were. She moaned into Tara’s mouth, Tara moving her lips from Racheal’s lips to her neck, nibbling as she does.

Racheal grinds her hips into Tara’s torso as Tara mouth and hand work. Tara kissing and licking up her neck to behind her ear then nibbling on her ear lobe.

“Mmmm, yessss.”

Tara carries Rachael over to the bed, looking at the woman beneath her, and ripping her shirt open and unclasping the front hook bra with ease.

Tara studies Rachael’s B cups, and then dives into them, her mouth sucking Rachael’s nipple into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue. Rachael sucks in air hard at the action letting out a loud moan in response. Tara then kisses and licks to the other nipple giving it the same treatment.

All the while hooking her fingers into the sides of Rachael’s panties and pulling them off the lady. Once off, Tara kisses down Rachael’s stomach, and before enjoying a feast, she savors the pretty pink pussy before her that glistens with her juices, Tara inhales deep.

“You look delicious and smell amazing.”

Before Rachael can say thank you she feels Tara’s tongue slide up her slit, and Tara suck her clit into her mouth and flatten her tongue against it flicking it repeatedly.

Rachael’s legs wrap around Tara’s head and Rachael grabs Tara’s hair. Rachael is washed away in pleasure as Tara’s tongue does its magic. She can feel the build of an orgasm, losing herself in it, as she grinds against Tara’s tongue until finally she pulls Tara’s head in tight and that build explodes inside her washing over her body. Waves of pleasure flow through her.

As she comes down, Tara is kissing her again. Rachael taste herself on Tara, and she loves it.

She notices Tara’s girl cock, gock, pressing up against her entrance. Rachael tries to pull Tara in, but Tara stops.

“You sure you’re ready for that? We could just do the whole lesbian thing. I’m content with oral and cuddling.”

“Please.”

There’s a whimper in Rachael’s voice. Tara caves.

“I don’t have condoms. Thanks to E I might not cum, and if I do I don’t always have the best control over it. There’s still a chance I could knock you up, ok? Even if it’s a small chance.”

Rachael nods.

Tara positions herself, and grabbing Rachael’s hips she pushes her gock into the PTA mom. Rachael feels a mix of pain and some pleasure as the gock invades her insides.

Even with how girthy the outline was in the yoga pants it seems Tara was a grower. Slowly Tara rocks her hips driving a little deeper with each thrust.

“Holy fuck you’re tight.”

As Tara works Rachael starts feeling Tara’s balls slap against her and more and more pleasure builds. The pair kiss as Rachael feels the build once again. She starts rocking her hips instinctively with the rhythm Tara is thrusting with. As Rachael spills over the edge yet again, not just her moaning fills the room as Tara’s does as well.

“Ohh, fuck, you’re trying to milk me here! Shit!”

Tara picks Rachael up, pinning her against the wall. Then she starts fucking Rachael hard. Rachael’s ass hits the wall with a thud each time.

Rachael is being held up by Tara, being fucked hard, and she cums again, Tara picking up the pace not wanting to let up as Rachael’s pussy eagerly contorts and contracts against her invading gock.

Rachael manages to ask Tara.

“Can I ride you?”

Tara nods pulling out of her impromptu partner, and easing Rachael to her feet. The pair get on the bed, Tara laying back.

“Been awhile since I’ve been that hard this long.”

Rachael takes the compliment then straddles Tara easing herself onto Tara’s member. Rachael starts slow, but builds quick, slamming herself down hard onto the gock. Tara plays with Rachael’s nipples, and quickly Rachael is having to slow up as she cums yet again.

Rachael in turn plays with Tara’s nipples which causes Tara to moan hard, the pair play with each other’s nipples until finally they cum together, Rachael sitting fully on Tara’s gock as they do Tara’s girl cum planted deep into Rachael’s womb.

Rachael lays down on Tara the pair cuddling up, kissing, teasing each other’s nipples, enjoying the time as they talk and joke about nothing.

Once Tara goes flaccid, and falls out of Rachael, the pair kiss again, and Rachael goes to gather her stuff.

It’s now she sees the missed calls and text from the PTA. Nothing got done at their meeting without her of course. She ignores it all.

Tara snatches Rachael’s phone from her, and immediately puts her own number in Rachael’s contacts then text her number.

“There. I travel a lot, and I want to do that again.”

Rachael is taken aback by this.

“Really?”

Tara pulls Rachael close, and kisses her on the forehead.

“Of course. Don’t you?”

Rachael nods. Does she have a girlfriend?

“I’ve got to pick up my kids in a bit, but you could come over later?”

“I’d like that.”

Rachael, looking like a complete mess compared to when she entered, grabs her heels, and exits the home a smile on her face that would only leave because she went to sleep.