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! 😘📚

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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.

​

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

"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."

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.

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.”

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.

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 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

Part 3

Tristan stepped into the sacristy, his heart pounding. Father Marcos had summoned him; he was so nervous to face him after all Sister Nyla had said about him. But he was insistent on making a lasting impression on Father Marcos so he could experience what Nyla had.

As soon as he took a step in, he froze in his tracks; never in a million years did he think he would see this.

The older priest's cassock was hiked up, his massive, veined cock buried deep inside Nyla. Her black habit was pushed up around her waist, her legs wrapped tightly around the priest's hips.

Tristan's breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted in a soft moan, and a blissful smile spread across her face with each thrust of his hips. She looked absolutely ruined, in the best way possible.

Father Marcos's large hands gripped her thighs, rolling her legs wider with each deep, methodical pump. "Nngh... yes, Father," she whispered dreamily.

He didn't stop fucking Nyla when his eyes finally found Tristan standing in the doorway. His face remained calm, almost saintly, though his cock worked deep inside the girl.

"Ah, Tristan," he said smoothly, not breaking his rhythm. "Come in. Close the door." Nyla opened her eyes, spotting him in the doorway. She didn't stop smiling; in fact, her smile deepened.

"Stand there and watch, Tristan," he commanded, not slowing his pace. His large hands squeezed her thighs possessively as he stared Tristan down sternly. "Consider this a lesson in humility." Nyla moaned softly, looking up at Tristan with her half-lidded eyes, her expression encouraging him to watch.

"Watch very carefully," he ordered, the sounds of their coupling echoing off the cold stone walls. "This is how we teach the unrighteous. Through discipline. Through penance."

He drove deeper into Nyla, who whimpered and grabbed the edge of the table for balance. Her eyes never left Tristan's, a cruel sweetness dancing in them. "She begs so beautifully," Father Marcos murmured, his voice thick, his hips snapping forward. "Much more melodious than the bells."

She gasped, arching her back. "Please, Father... more..." He smirked at Tristan. "Would you like to learn proper contrition, boy? Come closer." Tristan's feet moved without his permission.

He approached, compelled forward against his will, approaching the scene with wide eyes and trembling hands.

Father Marcos looked up, eyes judging. "Kneel, Tristan." He didn't repeat himself. Tristan's knees hit the cold and uneven stone, and his forehead immediately dropped between his thighs.

"Watch," Marcos commanded. "Notice how she accepts her punishment," the priest continued, thrusting deeper into her. "She doesn't fight it. She welcomes discipline. A naughty girl knows her place."

Her head fell back, eyes rolling. "Yes, Father... punish me... break me..." He gripped her hips tighter. "This is what obedience feels like, Tristan.”

Tristan's eyes devoured her; she was naked for the first time. Her body was lush, her curves soft where he remembered her always covered. Dark nipples stood proud on fuller breasts. Her thighs glistened where the huge cock disappeared into her slick hole.

She was beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful.

"Stare all you want, boy," Marcos' voice cut through. "But a man who lusts with his eyes must also repent with his flesh."

Nyla didn't even look at him. She kept her eyes locked on the ceiling, mouth open, panting as he used her. Her smile never faltered; this was her ritual, her ecstasy.

Tristan's throat went dry. "Come closer," Father Marcos commanded again, his thrusts relentless. "Kiss where body meets soul. Where sin becomes salvation."

He crawled forward on trembling limbs, his face drawing level with where the thick shaft disappeared into Nyla's wet pussy. He could smell their fucking, a musky, intimate scent mixed with the faint aroma of incense.

"Kiss it."

Tristan hesitated, then leaned forward. His lips parted and pressed soft, trembling kisses against the slick junction where the priest's shaft entered her. Hot cum smeared his lips.

She gasped sharply, her eyes flickering to him for the first time with real interest, not humiliation but something almost approving.

Marcos groaned approvingly. "Good boy.”

"Now watch from closer," he ordered, pulling Nyla forward so Tristan could see every inch of where they joined.

His face was mere inches away. close enough to see the veins on Father Marcos's shaft, the glistening wetness coating them, the way her slick lips stretched around the thick cock with every thrust.

So dirty. His heavy balls slapped against her bare flesh with each deep pump, her wet pussy making obscene, squelching sounds. Tristan could see the cock glistening with their combined fluids, precum and arousal, and something thicker.

Her clit peeked out from the folds, catching the dim lights from the candle and glistening like a sin.

He was paralyzed, drowning in the obscene spectacle. Her pussy stretched perfectly around the thick, veined cock, swallowing it greedily. Wet, sloppy sounds filled the room, slick skin slapping together, squelching juices.

It was violently sexual. A holy man fucking a nun while a boy knelt, watching their joined genitals inches from his face. Absolutely filthy.

"She takes it so deeply," Father Marcos groaned, emphasizing the filth by slowing his strokes so Tristan could see the thick shaft dragging her inner lips outward before plunging back in. "Look at how she swallows me."

Tristan watched the creamy froth building at the base of the priest's cock, her arousal dripping down his balls. It was hypnotic. Father Marcos groaned, his shoulders tensing as he buried himself completely inside her. "AH—!"

Warm spurts of hot cum exploded inside her pussy, spilling back out and dripping onto Tristan's face. He didn't pull out; he stayed buried, letting his seed fill her slowly as he stared coldly down at the trembling boy.

He remained buried deep inside her, his cock still twitching and releasing thick ropes of cum directly into her womb. The priest's face was serene, but his eyes were calculating as he watched Tristan's reaction.

Cum was dripping from her stretched hole, splattering onto the younger boy's lips. She was smiling beatifically at the ceiling, lost in the ecstasy of the moment. Tristan shifted his eyes from the sinful image to the person responsible for it. Dark eyes stared back at him, the monstrosity of cock coming back to life.

"Offer your own flesh for penance," Father Marcos ordered softly. "Turn around, Tristan. Offer up your ass for my touch."

Nyla's smile didn't fade; if anything, she looked more encouraging. Father Marcos' hand rested on her pussy, palm flat against her wetness, pushing out a glob of cum in and out. “But Father, he is new to this," she whispered.

"He needs salvation too," Marcos murmured to her.

Tristan's whole body shook. Slowly, mechanically, he turned himself around on his knees. Bent forward. Ass in the air. He had dreamt about this day, about the moment when that cock would fill up his ass and yet he was still nervous.

"Closer, boy," he commanded. "Let me see where your sin resides.” Tristan hesitated, hands gripping the fabric of his robes. "Lift it," Father Marcos ordered sternly. "I cannot heal what I cannot see."

Slowly he gathered the rough fabric, pulling it up to his waist. His pale, boyish ass was exposed, bare, trembling, the tight pink hole clenching involuntarily. "Bend forward," he directed. "Give me full access.”

He obeyed, hands pressed against the sacristy floor, bending forward. His ass lifted higher. He approached slowly, heavy footsteps echoing. Nyla watched from the stone, still leaking cum, legs wide and body flushed.

"Lift higher," Father Marcos commanded. Tristan obeyed, exposing his tight, puckered hole fully, no hair to hide it, just a tight rim quivering with excitement.

Father Marcos circled behind him slowly, inspecting. He tapped Tristan's ass with one finger. "Tight," he observed clinically. "Untouched. Pure." He reached into his drawer and produced a small jar of oil. He poured it generously over Tristan's trembling hole, the liquid seeping between his cheeks.

"This will sting," he warned softly. Tristan whimpered, feeling the cold oil slick between his cheeks. He squeezed his hole tighter in anticipation. "Look at her, Tristan," he commanded, dabbing oil around the rim of the boy's ass. "Watch Nyla while I examine you."

Tristan glanced over his shoulder. She was still lying there, legs spread, cum dripping from her pussy. She smiled warmly at him. "There," Father Marcos murmured, pushing the oil inside the tiny hole with a single finger. "You have never had a man inside you, have you, boy?"

Tristan shook his head quickly. The priest's finger curled inside, stretching the virgin hole slightly. "No one has ever given you this gift.” Tristan pushed back to get more. "Because you were worthy of waiting," he said, adding a second finger, stretching the tight ring wider.

He worked his fingers slow and deliberately, spreading the oil inside Tristan's untouched hole. The boy gasped, face pressed to the floor. "Nyla was broken long ago," he murmured. "But you…” he kissed his back almost ceremoniously. "You are still sealed," Father Marcos continued, curling his fingers deeper.

He twisted his fingers inside Tristan, testing the resistance. The boy's hole clenched desperately around the intrusion.

"Do you want to please me, Tristan?" His voice came out as a broken whisper. "Y-yes, Father."

"Good," Father Marcos said. "Because I will break you, Tristan," Father Marcos said softly. "I will prepare you. Stretch you. Make you ready." He removed his fingers, then pressed his thumb against the tight pink ring. "But penance requires surrendering your flesh. You see Nyla? She accepted my seed because she knew her sins needed purging."

He leaned down, his breath hot against Tristan's ear. “Do you need my seed to cleanse your seed boy?” Was the question he was asked. "Please, Father... Please, I want it... I need it," Tristan sobbed, ass still high in the air. His tight hole was dripping oil, clenching at nothing. "I need your cock..."

Father Marcos smiled approvingly behind him. "A willing sinner is easier to save." He lifted his cassock, his thick cock springing free, hard and throbbing the nerves decorating the thick shaft.

"Then take it, boy," Father Marcos commanded, positioning himself behind Tristan. "Open yourself to salvation." He felt the blunt head press against his oiled hole. So much bigger than anything he'd ever imagined. His tiny entrance stretched around the ridge, protesting.

"Nnngh—Father—it's too big—" he whimpered. "Shh," Marcos murmured, pressing forward slowly. He pushed just the tip inside, holding it there. Tristan whimpered, face pressed against the cold stone floor. His hole stretched painfully around the blunt head.

"Breathe, Tristan," Father Marcos instructed calmly. "The first inch is the hardest. After that, you will welcome me." Tristan squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't... it hurts, Father..." A sharp spank was delivered on his cheek, making him moan. "Pain is purification."

"It breaks the flesh so goodness may enter," Father Marcos said darkly, gripping Tristan’s hips tight. He pushed forward, forcing another thick inch past the boy's frantically clenched rim. Tristan cried out, a sharp, broken wail, as his hole was forced to swallow the priest's cock.

"Good boy," Marcos groaned. "Take it.” He pushed deeper, watching Tristan's hole spread around his shaft inch by inch. The boy's ass was so tight, clinging desperately to the thick intrusion.

"You're taking it so well, Tristan," Father Marcos praised, groaning as wet heat enveloped his shaft. "Pure vessel. Chaste flesh. And now Father's cock is cleansing you.”

Father Marcos' cock dragged across something inside Tristan that made the boy's whole body jerk. "Ah—! F-FATHER!" Tristan screamed, back arching off the cold floor. His knees buckled, only Marcos' grip on his hips holding him up.

"There it is," Marcos groaned, feeling his hole spasm violently around him. "The sacred spot," he grinned, grinding there roughly "There... there—AH!" Tristan sobbed, eyes rolling back. His cockhead rubbed that tiny gland brutally, sending electric shocks through his entire body.

"Your soul lives right here," Father Marcos crooned, grinding his cock against the swollen prostate deliberately. "This is where salvation happens, Tristan." His cock leaked uncontrollably, twitching wildly. "FATHER!”

"Cleanse him, Nyla," Father Marcos commanded without breaking rhythm. "Suck the sin from his cock while I cleanse his ass. " Nyla slid gracefully from the altar, positioning herself underneath Tristan’s trembling body. She wrapped her lips around his leaking shaft, taking him deep.

The double assault was devastating. Marcos was grinding against his prostate while Nyla sucked his cock. Tristan screamed. Father Marcos began snapping his hips hard, slamming his thick cock directly against his prostate.

He completely shattered. He was screaming, "AH! AH! FATHER!" back arching violently, legs shaking. The prostate stimulation was overwhelming his nervous system, making his cock drool heavily into Nyla's mouth.

"Take it... take your salvation..." Marcos groaned, pounding him. "You like having a holy man stretching your virgin hole, boy?" Father Marcos grunted, slamming deep. "Mmm, so fucking tight. No wonder you never let anyone inside."

Tristan could only sob meaningless sounds. "Does my cock feel good on your prostate, Tristan? Does the Father's cum feel holy?" Nyla swirled her tongue around his cockhead while sucking deeper. "More... please, Father, MORE!" He begged, his voice breaking. "I need more; please don't stop!"

Father Marcos laughed, a dark, booming sound in the sacristy. "Greedy little sinner." He slammed deeper, grinding brutally against that sensitive spot. "You want more penance? More Father's cock to stretch that sinful little hole?”

"Please! Please, Father! Break me open!" Tristan screamed, ass grinding backward desperately. "Open your legs wider, boy," Marcos commanded, slapping one cheek hard. "If you want more, you must accept more." He said with a sharp slap.

Tristan shoved his face into the floor, pushing his ass higher. The slap stung beautifully. "Good boy," Marcos purred, picking up the pace. The priest's hips snapped mercilessly, driving deep into Tristan with each brutal thrust. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed off the cold stone walls, wet, disgusting noises that filled the sacristy.

"You feel that, Tristan?" Marcos growled, his voice a dark rumble. "That's me reaching your soul through your body.”

Tristan moaned desperately into the floor, Nyla's mouth working him flawlessly. She knew exactly how to suck, tongue swirling around his tip, lips tight, throat bobbing as she took him impossibly deep.

"Mmmmnnhh," she hummed around his shaft, the vibration driving him absolutely mad. His cock throbbed against her tongue. "Father," he whimpered, "Father... oh God—FATHER!" He sobbed, overwhelmed. The dual stimulation was pushing him toward an abyss he couldn't pull back from.

Marcos smirked, feeling his hole fluttering violently around him. "Suffer for your salvation, boy. Nyla will drain the sin from your cock while I cleanse your ass.” Father Marcos' cold lips brushed across Tristan's trembling shoulder, leaving a sting of reverence.

"Such pure skin," the priest whispered against his neck. "Untainted. You're worth saving, Tristan. Not like the wicked."

His cock slid even deeper, finding that sweet spot again. Tristan's whole body shuddered, a strangled cry escaping him.

"That's it... let it all go," Marcos soothed, kissing his shoulder again, a mockery of comfort. His thrusts became slower, deeper, and more deliberate. Each one ground his swollen cockhead directly against his prostate, sending electric shocks through his nervous system.

Nyla's mouth was a wet, perfect vacuum around his cock, her tongue dancing under the ridge. His hips bucked uncontrollably. His hole clenched around Father Marcos like a vice, weeping precum. "Father... Father, I'm going to—"

"Don't you dare spill on the floor, boy," Marcos commanded sternly, grinding slowly and deep. "Save it for Nyla. Let her suck the sin out of you," Tristan whimpered desperately.

"Now, Tristan," Father Marcos ordered, driving deep. "Release your impurity into Nyla's holy mouth. Let her take your sin."

He broke. His back arched completely off the floor, a long, high-pitched wail escaping him. His cock jerked violently in her mouth, spurting thick ropes of cum down her throat.

As his release subsided, Father Marcos didn't pull out immediately. Instead, he held deep, his cockhead still pressed hard against Tristan's sensitive prostate.

"Look up, boy," Marcos commanded calmly, his voice returning to that gentle, professorial tone. "Look at me now." Tristan's tear-streaked face lifted, eyes still wild. Father Marcos let out a low, guttural groan. "Ah—bless me—"

His cock twitched violently inside Tristan, pumping hot, thick ropes of cum directly against the boy's prostate. Tristan screamed, a high as the priest's seed flooded his deepest reaches. "Receive it, Tristan," Marcos breathed, still thrusting slowly, burying every drop.

Tristan's entire body shook violently, accepting the seed. The priest pumped thick ropes of cum deep inside him, coating his prostate in warmth. The sensation was overwhelming.

"Good boy..." Father Marcos groaned, grinding slowly through his orgasm. "Receive Father's blessing..."

Tristan collapsed, completely undone. Nyla swallowed his final drops, licking him clean. They curled together on the soft velvet mattress, both utterly drained and glowing with post-orgasmic warmth. Tristan buried his face in Nyla's neck, his limbs trembling, feeling absolutely wrecked and worshipped.

Father Marcos cleaned himself gracefully, his priestly demeanor instantly restored despite the recent depravity. He walked over, stroking Tristan's damp hair. "You've been such obedient little lambs today," he murmured, his voice low and promising.

"But don't think this is the end of your penance." His hand trailed down Tristan's spine, making him shiver. "There's so much more... purification you both need." Nyla whimpered softly but nuzzled closer to Tristan. "Tomorrow night, you will both kneel before me on this mattress," Father Marcos continued, his finger tracing circles on Tristan's lower back. "And we will explore deeper sins. Deeper punishments."

Tristan looked up at him, eyes still watery. "What kind of punishments, Father?" Marcos smiled serenely. "The kind that makes you forget your names. The kind that makes you beg to be saved.”

“Lick my cock clean before I go," Father Marcos commanded, sitting back on the mattress and stroking his half-hard cock. "Kiss it. Properly. Thank your Father for saving your souls today." Both knelt immediately, pressing their lips to the smooth, salt-tasting flesh. Tristan kissed the tip, and Nyla took the shaft, both their tongues swirling reverently.

"Good," Father Marcos whispered, watching their pink lips press adoring kisses along his length. "That is your idol. That is your salvation." Tristan gently mouthed the slit, while Nyla kissed the base, both of them humming in quiet worship.

Together they cleaned him with reverent care. Nyla used warm water from a basin, gently washing his shaft and sac. Tristan used a soft cloth, carefully drying between his balls, kissing the flesh softly.

Father Marcos looked down at them with paternal pride. "Such dutiful servants." They finished meticulously, removing every trace of cum and sin. Tristan pressed one final kiss to the priest's inner thigh.

Father Marcos leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Tristan's lips, soft completely at odds with the evening's brutality. Then he did the same to Nyla, his lips lingering. "Sleep now, my blessed ones," he murmured. "Dream of your salvation." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving them alone on the mattress.

The End

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

(…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.

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.