Katie Greenwood couldn’t decide if she was looking forward to a confrontation or dreading a meeting with her ex. Last Halloween, Simon, the guy she thought was the perfect boyfriend, had more or less blackmailed her into a public, humiliating anal sex experience. She still wondered why she had gone along with the whole scheme. Simon’s blackmail was based on a video made while we she was under the influence of what thought was ecstasy. He had even forced her to watch some of it—the image of her own face, plastered with cum and hungrily begging for more cock was seared into her memory. She couldn’t have that file getting out, where it could destroy her life even more. Moreover, Simon had used his connections to secure her a plum internship. Even after his humiliation of her, he had kept up his end of the bargain. All of her dreams were going to come true—she just needed to avoid Simon forever and get on with her life.
So why am I meeting that bastard, then? It wasn’t the way she planned to spend a Saturday morning. The grey sky filtered through a thicket of dead trees as she walked towards the coffee shop inside the student union building. Simon had not attempted to contact her in almost five months. And now, just after Spring Break, he sent her a text message arranging a meeting. In fact, he ordered it; there was no asking. Katie knew exactly why he was looking for her now, though. The Daily Eagle, Armstrong College’s student paper, had reported on the front page the investigation into allegations of hazing at Alpha Delta house.
The investigation into AD was all anyone was talking about. The most powerful house on campus was on the verge of losing its recognition and national charter. What the public didn’t know was that any investigation worth a shit would reveal much more than just hazing. Katie knew a lot about the ADs now, enough to know that the hazing charges were ironically enough false. Though innocent of hazing pledges, the Alpha Deltas were in fact guilty of much worse—felony drug trafficking and rape, for starters.
Simon was sitting alone at a large table for four. Katie could tell he hadn’t seen her when she entered, and she lingered a bit around the corner, watching his movements. Simon had a way of sitting perfectly still, as if his heart didn’t beat. Yet his head always seemed to be moving, drinking in the surrounding, sizing people up, looking for something. Today, it was probably her. Steeling herself for an unpleasant conversation, she walked as confidently as she could over to Simon’s table and sat down.
“I know why I’m here asshole. Don’t try to act cute.”
“Good,” he replied. “I’m glad we don’t have to bother with small talk. They’re going to come to talk to you, ask you about what you saw in the AD house. You don’t have to lie, not really. Tell them you didn’t see any hazing of brothers. That’s it.”
Simon didn’t need to threaten Katie; she could hear it lingering behind his words. In fact, she didn’t plan to get herself wrapped up in the investigation anyway. She was afraid of Simon and mostly wanted him out of her life. Yet getting him out of her mind had proven almost impossible. In fact, the worst part of it all was the good memories of time spent with him. Those hurt more reliving the nightmare of Halloween. Out of all the days she spent with Simon, there were only a couple of bad ones, but they weighed so heavily that all of the good should have been cancelled out. Why can’t I just forget about him?
“Look, I didn’t come here to be threatened. I’ll stay quiet but you have to answer my questions first.”
“OK, shoot. Anything you want,” he replied nonchalantly.
“Anything? Well what I most want is to go back in time and never meet you,” she replied venomously. “But I’ll have to settle for answers. I don’t want to hear your sick fucking reasons for picking me or for what you did. I just want to know how you got me to say that stuff. I don’t think ecstasy can do that to people.”
Simon paused briefly. Katie had a sudden, dispiriting thought. Simon is the best liar I’ve ever met. How can I trust anything he says?
“There’s a new drug. You don’t really need the details. It makes…situations like yours possible. But it’s all gone now, and the new batches are a lot weaker. Disappointed the shit out of me. It was a…temporary product that I used to—”
“—rape girls?,” Katie interjected.
“Well, technically, just you,” Simon responded. “Everyone else took it voluntarily, actually. I lied to you about what it was, so I guess what happened before Halloween was pretty much rape. But Halloween itself?”
Simon paused to sip his coffee.
“That’s on you. Search your memory for how it went down. The only thing I ever threatened was to take away your precious internship. I never said I’d post it on the internet, send it to your friends, mail a copy to grandma. So Halloween is on you—you gave your ass up so you could get ahead. And, you know what? It was the right call.”
Katie felt sick. In her heart, she knew he was right. Part of her disgust for these past few months had been with herself.
“Don’t talk to me like that. Remember that you’re begging me not to turn you scumbags in.”
“I’m not begging for anything,” Simon replied. “I’m letting you know that I know what’s happening, and that you won’t be saying anything. That’s not a threat, it’s an observation. But you had more questions, right?”
Katie’s blood was boiling. She had hoped to keep it together for this meeting. She didn’t want Simon to see her upset, to let him know he was getting to her. She had spent five months locked away, throughout the cold winter, alternately thinking about this day and trying to stop herself from thinking about it.
“Fine. What have you done with the video? Who else has seen it?”
“Well, which video? You should know your Halloween performance—everyone’s actually—was filmed, too.”
Katie would have been even more disgusted and despondent, had she not already assumed as much. Simon had basically built those rooms in the sub-basement himself, and keeping records seemed like the kind of thing he would do.
“Well, at first I watched them alone and jerked off.”
Simon was shameless, completely unfazed by such talk. Katie still found herself capable of surprise.
“Then, recently, I’ve watched them with my girlfriend. It was such a big moment for me, so watching them always gets me really hard. She didn’t like seeing them at first, but now she knows she’s in for a good fuck when I put one of them on.”
Katie was horrified to know someone else had seen the tapes, especially, for some reason, another girl. Another feeling, which surprised even her, crept into the back of her mind: jealousy.
“So what’s the plan for this one? Rape her on the quad while the marching band plays? Does she know what you are?”
“Good idea, let me write that one down,” Simon joked. “Unlike you, she knows exactly who—what—I am. She was there on Halloween, in fact. If you’d like, you could always come back to my place and watch one of her tapes.”
Katie couldn’t believe a girl could be with someone like Simon willingly. Not when she knew what he was capable of. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder about the girl. Katie had fled from the house that night but saw and heard some eye-popping stuff. Simon let the fraternity gang-bang his girlfriend?, she wondered, before correcting herself. Future girlfriend. Katie wondered what his angle was—not only was Simon not really the boyfriend type, but also it was strange for him to pick a girl he had basically treated like a whore as a girlfriend.
“Who is she? Do I know her?”
“Maybe. April Nelson.”
Katie knew April. April was the kind of girl who made Katie ashamed of her flat chest and bony ass. April was built for sex, a walking wet dream. Katie was a beanpole, cute, but no April Nelson. Katie, 100% heterosexual Katie, got flustered when a girl—woman—like April was present.
Katie hastily stood up, cheeks glowing crimson. She could feel herself start to sweat, just a little.
“I’m done with this. Don’t talk to me again.”
Simon called out to her, loud enough for other people to here.
“So—gonna come over for a movie later?”
Katie’s mind flashed to one thought, one she had suppressed until that moment.
I’m going to make him pay.
Word around campus was that the Alpha Deltas were starting to go soft. Hannah Johansson knew better than that. She was surrounded by three ADs at the moment, and every last one of them was hard enough to cut diamonds. They were all meant for her.
She felt a little light-headed, buzzed from smoking pot with the brothers, Deacon, Will, and…the one whose name she could never remember. Am I, like, always stoned around him? His name didn’t much matter to her, though—he always had good weed and didn’t choke her too much whenever he crammed his cock down her throat.
Oh yeah, she thought, when the tall, pudgy Alpha started stripping her of her leopard-print bra and panties, the last remaining bits of clothing after stripping for each bong hit. He’s called Sketch. She half-remembered a story about him having some kind of school-girl fetish or something that got him the nickname.
Hannah knelt on the dirty rug in the party basement. Her long, straight black hair hung down past her narrow shoulders as she looked up at the three frat guys towering over her. She was already petite, and her position on the floor made them seem enormous. Her dark, almond eyes were open wide and her mouth hung just a bit open, as she breathed heavily. Her slender, graceful body strained forward a bit, and her ribs were slightly visible as her stomach curved in. Chocolate brown nipples, now hardened into two little bullets and turned slightly upwards, crowned her pert breasts, which the brothers liked to think of as a perfect, handful size.
Not many Asian girls came around AD—unlike the Ivies, Armstrong was mostly lily-white rich kids, trust-funders not smart enough go to Princeton mixed with a smaller group of scholarship kids to keep the academic profile strong. Hannah was from the latter group. She had come to Armstrong on a full ride, but with none of the disposable income of the average Armstrong student to live the kind of lifestyle she wanted.
Sucking off Alpha Delta brothers had become just a normal part of her life now. It wouldn’t have come as much of a shock to anyone who had grown up with Hannah back in Minnesota, though. Back home, she was one of the few Asians in her class. Her white parents had adopted her as a baby from Vietnam and raised her in a strict Christian home, against which she rebelled as soon as she could.
Hannah didn’t want to follow her parents’ religious moralism, but most of all she hated the stereotypes of nerdy, shy, submissive Asian girls. She partied as hard as possible for suburban Minneapolis. Although she was too scared to do anything really crazy—no needles, no serious felonies for her—she nevertheless managed to piss off her exasperated parents to no end. They always managed to hear from a concerned neighbor or fellow churchgoer about the latest boy she had been spotted making out with, or they would catch her stumbling home inebriated. They feared she was on the path to becoming a drunken slut. As it turned out, they were mostly right.
Now her juvenile rebellion took the form of getting high and sucking off frat brothers on a near-daily basis. Simon had “introduced” her at the Halloween party, after Javier had given her a taste of F, the “wonder” drug for turning co-eds into fuck dolls. She didn’t need to be addicted—she loved the drug and the fucking, at least for the most part. She also couldn’t complain about leeching off the frat’s largesse: not just weed and F, but liquor and some times a bit of cash, too. As long as she could stay in control and get what she wanted, being passed around the frat like a cum rag was just part of the college experience in her view.
The three brothers tonight were no stranger, although she didn’t have any particular connection to them, anymore than three dozen other guys who had shot their wads in or on her. She had become pretty notorious at the frat: a reliable suck and fuck who was always down for anything, to a point at least. Hannah thought of herself as “one of the gang,” popular and well-liked. The guys thought of her a bit differently: some of them even considered double-bagging it, considering how much dick she had taken in the span of a few months. A few actually followed through and wore rubbers, at least for fucking her up the butt.
Anal: the one thing she didn’t like about sex. The brothers absolutely loved to fuck girls in the ass, and Hannah had first fallen prey to their lust for sodomy on Halloween. During the massive orgy that broke out when Simon left, Hannah had taken a lot of dick in the ass—not that she could remember anything, though. Her sore, abused asshole let her know the next morning what had gone down. Since then, she had usually managed to minimize the anal violations by developing her cocksucking abilities. She now held a mastery of the oral arts. Guys with drained balls rarely went through the trouble of cajoling her into opening up the back door.
Naturally tonight, though, Deacon had already begun trying to jam his middle finger straight up her asshole. Her tight anus had become exposed once Sketch moved to take a seat on the ratty old sofa against the back wall and Hannah had to crane forward a bit to keep his dick in her mouth. That was enough to give Deacon a clear shot at cramming a beefy finger into her rectum, and he seized his opportunity with relish. She squirmed a bit, knowing eventually he would get it inside. Usually when she was in a group, she could avoid getting fucked in the ass by jerking off any guys standing around while she was sucking a dick. So long as they got some stimulation, most of the brothers weren’t really too aggressive. At least not any more—things had started cool down after a pretty insane beginning to the year. What she could never avoid, though, was getting a finger or two jammed in her rear entrance.
“Don’t you love how this slut acts like she don’t want it?,” Deacon asked his friends.
“Hey!,” Hannah half-shouted at him, pulling the wet, spit-covered cock out of her mouth. “Do you want a finger in your ass?”
“Naah. But I don’t want some dude’s dirty schlong in my mouth either, and you fuckin’ love it.”
Deacon and the guys laughed a bit. Hannah flipped Deacon the bird and stuck her tongue out.
“I’d take that tongue in my butthole!,” Will exclaimed.
Hannah heard one of the girls from before she was around, a skinny chick named Claire, was known for her rimming proficiency. Hannah had fortunately avoided that task. They had dropped the whole maids thing back in the fall. She was glad she never had to interrupt her fun to do some kind of bullshit cleaning job.
“Get back to sucking,” Sketch demanded. “My nuts are fucking overflowing tonight.”
Sketch was one of the few brothers who Hannah could honestly say struggled to get girls to go out with him. Consequently, he tended to blow the largest loads, since most of the brothers were cumming at least twice a day. Sketch once sold her an ounce of weed and told her she could pay him by wearing a face full of his cum and asking the Epsilon Sigma Thetas next door to borrow some flour. That little trick got her fucked by three guys at the neighboring house, with not a bit of flour to show for it.
“Damn, I got another girl to meet in, like, twenty minutes,” Deacon complained. “I need to bust my nut quick.”
“Fuck no, man,” Sketch told him. “My weed means I get to cum first.”
“I’ll fuck her then,” Deacon reasoned with him.
Hannah tried to pull out Sketch’s cock, but he held her head firmly into his sweaty crotch. His below-average dick meant that Hannah could, with some effort, take him completely to the root. Needless to say, Sketch pretty much insisted on it, and with the right amount of force, he could cram his cock into her throat and bob her head with his hands until he got himself off. He buried her face into his wiry, saliva-dampened pubic hairs, tickling her nose and occasionally making her want to sneeze.
“Have at it then,” Sketch proclaimed, not pausing a bit to ask Hannah about her opinion on the matter.
Fortunately, Hannah had a wealth of cock-sucking experience, even before becoming one of the Alpha Deltas’ favorite sperm receptacles. First, one of her adoptive cousins had “taught” her as a teenager how to give a blowjob. He had acted liking he was doing her a big favor. When she pretty much devoured her first high school boyfriend’s dick, he knew he had found the perfect girl. In addition, she had a pretty high tolerance for cum as well. She became a frat house favorite for never cum-dodging like so many of the skanks they brought in. While they casually called her “slut,” Hannah figured that they basically liked her and treated her like she belonged.
“Gonna stretch that sphincter tonight, girl. That rectum needs some wreckin’.”
Deacon always thought he was so funny, always had some dumb line to try to puff himself up. Hannah wanted to protest, but did nothing. She kept jerking off Will while Sketch skull-fucked her. Deacon, the fat, liquor-soaked son of a hedge fund manager, was pretty gross, and Sketch was wiry and unappealing. At least Will’s cute, she thought. Sweet, too. Will had tousled hair, like a Kennedy, and a toothy, friendly smile. He played club lacrosse and was fit, unlike fatass and beanpole currently taking their turns on either end of her. Hannah’s focus was on keeping her balance and bracing herself for the inevitable. She felt the tip of Deacon’s cock (unfortunately for her, one of the girthier ones) pressed against her rosebud. This is gonna hurt.
While she hated and rebelled against stereotypes of Asians, at least two of them, in her case, were true. First, she was great in school, which was how she got a scholarship at a place like Armstrong. Second, her pussy was remarkably tight, and her asshole even tighter.
Deacon had learned to always use a copious amount of lube for anal sex. He had no desire to hurt her—he just wanted to shoot his wad deep inside her as soon as possible.
One of his favorite moves was to go out with a girl and let her start to go down on him without telling her that he had just fucked another girl in the ass. He could always tell which girls were keepers: the ones who soldiered on, cock in mouth, despite the rancid taste.
“Goddamn, slut,” he bellowed, “your ass is like a furnace.”
Deacon hadn’t cum that morning, because the sorostitute he had fucked the night before was too nauseous and hung over to give him morning head.
“Hey, stop pulling her hair, dumbass. She’s not finished polishing my knob,” Sketch protested.
Hannah, unable to speak with her mouth full of cock, started to shift positions. Her knees burned a bit from the rug and her jaw was getting pretty tired. Hopefully Will would fuck her pussy so she could get a bit of a break. Fortunately, she could tell Sketch wouldn’t last much longer.
“Don’t cum on her face, man,” Will asked, “I don’t want your nasty jizz on my stomach.”
“Don’t…worry,” Sketch replied, clearly approaching the point of no return, “this is all going down the hatch.”
With that, Sketch clamped his hand on the back of Hannah’s head tightly and blasted the back of her throat with the first thick shot of semen. She knew to swallow it as quickly as possible because it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Sketch let her withdraw her cock a little bit so that she wouldn’t puke. Thanks to using one hand on Will and one to balance herself because of Deacon’s increasingly forceful anal pounding, Hannah didn’t have a free hand to jerk off Sketch’s cock like he liked. Nevertheless, he continued firing shots of cum into her mouth. She could feel his veiny member twitch violently against her tongue, as he filled her mouth with his rank, salty seed. This time she held it in.
Sketch—hell most of the guys—loved for girls to show them the cum after filling up their mouths. Hannah was all set to open her mouth and show Sketch how she had preserved his seed when Deacon gave a vigorous final thrust, jostling her wildly.
“Vietnamese, dipshit,” Will replied wryly. “Not Japanese.”
Deacon didn’t care, of course. He just loved saying whatever “Asian” shit he could think of whenever he came from fucking Hannah.
“Fuck, dude, you made her spill my cum on the fucking rug,” Sketch complained.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah apologized, her mouth now mostly free of cum. “He just slammed into me at the wrong time.”
“I mean, this is what you’re here for, and you can’t keep the goddamn cum in your mouth for two seconds?”
“Hey!,” Will objected, stroking Hannah’s hair a bit to make her feel better. “don’t be so hard on her. I think you’re a great little cocksucker.”
Sketch stifled his disappointment as Hannah smiled weakly at Will. Her hand looked so small and dainty wrapped around his impressive tool. She stared into his abs a bit—don’t see too many fit guys here, she thought. Deacon pulled out of her ass and started shuffling around the room, looking for something. Hannah didn’t want Sketch to get mad at her, so she took his deflating cock into her mouth to clean him off.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I’ll do it right next time.”
Sketch grumbled something indecipherable before taking off upstairs with Deacon. Only Will remained.
“So, I bet you’re, like, tired,” he said, with a note of what seemed like genuine concern. “If you want, you can just jerk me off onto your face.”
Hannah appreciated what she saw as an expression of kindness. For his part, Will just loved blowing his load over the gorgeous Vietnamese girl. A faceful of his cum made Hannah all the more beautiful.
“Thanks. I’ll owe you one too,” she said with a smile.
Although Will was plenty aroused by the naked, freshly fucked Asian co-ed double-fisting his fuck pole, a hand-job couldn’t compare to a hole. It took her a few minutes to bring him to climax. As promised, though, he covered her mouth and chin with a thick, gooey coating of sperm. Like a true gentleman, he avoided shooting it into her eyes.
“Is that finally over?,” came a cold, mocking woman’s voice from behind Hannah.
She startled a bit and almost lost her balance.
“We have things to discuss.”
Hannah turned. For whatever reason, being naked, even covered in cum, around the guys was no big deal to her. Having a girl see her look and act like a common street whore, however, reminded her of how other people likely viewed her. Hannah felt a rush of shame and humiliation.
The girl, red-haired, fair-skinned, and gorgeous, was Miranda. Few people knew much about her, other than the fact that she and Simon seemed to have known each other for a long time. She had been one of the maids, the only one not to get fucked. Now people knew why: they had a connection. Speculation was rampant among the other brothers about why she had been there at all; most settled on seeing her as a kind of spy to keep everyone honest, although there were some more esoteric theories as well.
“Me and you?,” Hannah asked. “What things?”
“Not just me and you. Simon too. Get some clothes on—or don’t. Same to me.”
Hannah looked for her clothes.
“Shit, Doctor Doom wants you,” Will said. The brothers had started calling Simon that behind his back a while back, and it stuck. Secretly, Simon liked the name. After a moment, Hannah found her underwear and crumpled dress.
Motherfucker!, she thought. He must think that’s funny. While Hannah had been distracted with Will, Deacon had used her dress to wipe off his cock on the way out. There was no way she was going to wear a dress now stained with lube, cum, and her own ass. Bra and panties it is, she thought, slipping into the only clean things she had.
“Hey, I’ve got a clean lacrosse jersey in my bag,” Will offered.
What a sweetheart, she thought. Hannah went to give Will a thank-you kiss. He recoiled.
“Ummm, remember your face is…well, you know.”
Hannah blushed. Not wanting to use her ruined dress and risk getting any ass flavor in her mouth, she did the sensible thing and pushed as much of the cum as she could into her mouth and swallowed.
“OK, I’m ready.”
Miranda led Hannah downstairs, into the sub-basement below. In one of the small rooms off the main entry room, the two girls found Simon and Javier, intensely poring over something on the desk facing the door.
“Thanks, that was quick,” Simon said to the red-head. “Have a seat.”
Hannah sat down on the metal folding chair facing the desk and crossed her bare legs. A small puddle of lube, which Deacon’s rampaging cock had forced deep into her rectum, began its slow descent down to her anus. She could feel it making the spot she sat on wet, a constant reminder to go along with the dull pain of the thorough buttfucking she had just received.
“I wanted to talk to you because we really like you here at AD, Hannah.”
She smiled, feeling like she was being rewarded.
“You really fit in here, and nobody has ever had a complaint or bad word to say about you. I thought you deserved an opportunity.”
“What do you mean?,” she asked, eager to learn what Simon had in store for her.
“Well, we might need your help with something. You know about this bullshit investigation, right? Well, Miranda and Javi have been working on this for a while. I won’t bore you with the details. Let’s just say there are things we think you could do to help us, and if you did these things, we could reward you. And we mean rewards you’ll want.”
“What kind of stuff do you need me to do?,” she asked.
“Things you’ll like to do. Things you’re good at. Easy things, for someone as smart and…talented as you.”
“So I do you favors and I get…what, exactly?”
“Well, it depends. If you try your best and it doesn’t work out, then something small. A couple grand. Some F. Maybe we find a way to get you better grades or something trivial like that. But if you succeed? Then you can ask for something big—new car big, cushy job opportunity big—and I’m sure we can find a way to satisfy you.”
Hannah eyes lit up. She had never really been deprived, but her lower middle class, midwestern parents weren’t exactly living a lavish lifestyle. Simon was rich beyond her imagination, and she knew he must have really needed her help to come to her.
“What do you need me to do?,” she asked. “I’m in.”
Simon was pleased. He whispered a few things to Javier, who touched Miranda lightly on the arm. The two of them left the room, leaving Hannah alone with Simon. Simon got up from his chair and walked over towards Hannah. She was unsure whether she should get up or stay put until he came over and sat in the chair beside her. Her eyes locked with his as he placed his warm, dry palm onto the top of her left thigh and gently squeezed, moving it up and down her leg. She shuddered a bit, not knowing what would come next.
He gestured for her to take the jersey off, and she did. Hannah didn’t ask if he wanted the bra off, but instead went ahead and removed it. She expected Simon to paw her tits or even start sucking them, but instead, he stayed a bit distant, only using his hand to part her legs. Without waiting to be told, she removed her panties, giving him a full view of her waxed pussy, now dewy from arousal.
All that fucking and sucking had left her wanting her turn. It wasn’t the first time the guys had gotten off without bothering with her pussy. Still, he seemed only interested in appraising her, sizing her up. She had never spent much time around Simon, but the Doctor Doom nickname seemed to fit him. He was intense, a little scary, and almost preternaturally in control.
Something about Simon’s eyes told Hannah not to look away, even as she longed to break their gaze. The cool air of the sub-basement made her nipples stand out hard. Simon moved slowly, but deliberately, tracing his fingers slowly closer to her yearning pussy. All the focus was on her, and when his finger finally flicked across her clit, gently, then more insistently, she was ready to yield to him. She finally lowered her eyes, closing them a bit and biting her lip as Simon played her like a violin.
Simon brushed her hair back and she inclined her neck almost instinctively. His motions became more insistent, and he settled into a smooth, easy rhythm of manual stimulation. She was moments from cumming—her body felt like it would dissolve into a quivering mass on the floor. When he was less than a couple inches from her ear, he began to whisper.
“So, I hear you really know how to suck a cock…”
Hannah came hard. Anything you want, she thought.
“So, what kind of stuff does he like? Do you, like, play dress-up for him a lot?”
Chastity Plattfield was happy to have a new friend. After months of depression, her life had taken a turn for the better after Javier had become her boyfriend. Now she even had a best friend with whom to share secrets and gossip.
“Not too much, really. I mean, I usually wear thongs and stuff for him, but he takes them off pretty quick,” she responded.
Her cheeks were just slightly flushed—even after months of public sex as a “maid” at the Alpha Delta house, just talking about her underwear to another girl made her little embarrassed. Fortunately, her new friend could understand everything she had gone through. After all, Claire had been one of Simon’s maids too. If anything, Claire had gone through the most shit of them all, since Simon used her girlfriend April’s unwillingness to get dirty at the frat to extract more and more humiliating concessions from Claire.
Now April was Simon’s girlfriend, which Chastity could tell confused and disheartened Claire. They used to talk about it when Simon and April first started dating, but now Chastity knew to avoid the topic.
“So what brought on the sudden urge to get all that stuff?,” Claire asked.
Chastity looked around at the nearby tables to make sure no one was listening. The dining hall was a hive of activity, and no one seemed much interested in the girls.
“Things are…different now,” she said with a note of concern. “He’s always busy and…”
Chastity paused, searching for a delicate way of telling her friend what was happening.
“I…ummm…taste other girls on him. You know what I mean, right?”
Claire gave a knowing look, nodding her head and moving her hand to take hold of Chastity’s.
“You knew he was working with Simon—I mean, you know what comes along with that, right?”
“Yeah,” Chastity replied. “But I thought he would change. Like I would be enough.”
Claire smiled weakly.
“So that’s why we went to Sindee’s. Makes sense.”
Chastity had planned their little trip out, even bringing a larger, empty plastic bag to disguise the hot pink bag from the porno shop on the strip. Claire had gone along for moral support. As it turned out, Chastity needed it, because in Sindee’s she had run into a girl she knew, Katie Greenwood. Fortunately Katie was just as shocked as the girls, as she was in the process of purchasing a rather large dildo when they entered the store. Chastity was sure that Katie had seen them getting gangbanged last Halloween. Thankfully, Katie had embarrassed herself even worse. In the porno shop, holding a dildo, she had asked Claire and her all about Simon’s new girlfriend. It was a little pathetic, Chastity felt.
“I just want to try some new stuff. Make him interested again,” Chastity said to Claire.
Hidden away in the recesses of her closet now was an assortment of sexy outfits purchased to make Javier go wild.
“If he doesn’t want to fuck you, he’s crazy,” Claire reassured her.
Chastity blushed even more. Claire could be a bit forward, blunt even, but she had also proven to be a loyal friend. They met after the Halloween orgy experience and bonded. Chastity found it nice to be able to talk to someone about her life who she knew could understand and assumed that Claire felt the same. Once that first, extra-strength batch of F ran out, Simon turned the business over to Javier and a select group of brothers. The new batch was much weaker. At first the girls had all been disappointed, but the attenuated dose made it easier to kick the habit that had gotten them all in so much trouble. Now clean, their days as maids—whores—were at an end. They got over their cravings together and became inseparable.
Chastity looked into Claire’s eyes. There was something about the feisty, diminutive brunette that stirred previously unknown feelings in Chastity. Other girls might have had bigger tits or longer legs, but Claire had a really striking face. Stupid boys just see her as cute, Chastity thought. I think she’s beautiful.
“I wanted you to go there with me for another reason,” she said, dropping her voice to get Claire’s complete attention. “I know I’m not going to be enough alone. He’s going to…have other girls. It’s OK, like, I did know what it would be like from the start. But I think I can deal with it if he does it with me, you know? I mean, I’d be cool with it, I think.”
Chastity paused. She had no idea how her friend would react to what she was about to say. Claire, despite her dirty mouth, had seemed almost celibate since she escaped from the Alpha Deltas.
“But first I want to try it out,” she said seriously. “With you.”
Claire seemed startled, causing Chastity to fear the worst.
“When?,” she asked finally.
Claire’s response made Chastity breathe a sigh of relief. That sounds like a yes to me.
“Well, how about tonight. At the store, I even got you a little something too. Come by my place in a few hours—say, 9:00. He’ll be there by 9:30.”
Chastity was a bundle of nerves for the next few hours. She cleaned her room—like he cares, she thought—and got everything ready for Claire and Javier’s arrival. At 9:10, Chastity began to fear Claire was backing out. She felt relieved when her phone started playing a bouncy Katy Perry song—her ringtone for texts from Claire.
“guess who im w/,” the text read.
Javier? Chastity thought Javier was busy working on Simon’s latest little project.
“when r u coming?”
“dwnstrs now—just a min”
Chastity felt her pulse raise. This is really happening. Javier was never early to anything. Her curiosity piqued, Chastity unlocked the door and cracked it so that they could both walk right in. She heard their voices, unmistakeable, at the end of the hall. Only a moment…
“…so then he tells her she’s going to make sure the vote comes up our way.”
It was Javier’s voice.
“If I know him, that’ll mean that girl’s got a lot of dick to suck in the next two weeks,” Claire responded. “Hey girl!”
Javier and Claire entered the room chuckling.
“What? Fill me in,” Chastity begged.
“Simon’s got a plan to shake this bullshit investigation—more than that even. We got it worked out,” Javier told her, before pulling her in close and squeezing her ass tightly.
“You remember the Chinese girl always over at AD?”
Vietnamese, Chastity thought. She nodded. Claire looked her up and down approvingly and spoke up.
“Simon’s going to pay her to, like, convince the student investigations board to drop this hazing crap.”
Chastity found it remarkable how Claire had identified herself with the group that had treated her like a personal fuck slave for months. Now, hooked up with softer drugs for almost free from time to time and spared of new indignities, she was a team player—totally on board with the frat and with Javier, too.
“Ya girl here says you got something to talk to me about. Lucky I’m free right now. What you need?”
Chastity worked up her nerve.
“Baby, we have something so great.”
Javier looked a bit puzzled, especially to have a “relationship talk” with Claire present.
“But I…I’m afraid you might be getting bored with me.”
“Nah, it ain’t like that, ” he assured her. “You good—I know you’re just worried about other bitches out there.”
“You don’t have to—it’s OK, I understand. You could have anyone.”
Javier looked over his trembling, submissive girlfriend. No amount of filthy sex acts could ever make her look like anything other than the girl next door. Her blonde, angelic face was so beautiful, especially when her cherry lips were wrapped around his cock. Even with a face coated with his nut, she looked stunning. Her body, curvy in all the right places, knew just what he wanted. The way she moved, shy, teasing without knowing it—he would never grow bored of her.
“But I thought of an idea, something for both of us. Claire—it’s time.”
Claire moved over to Chastity’s side. In unison, both girls stripped off their shirts.
“Shit!,” Javier exclaimed.
“When you’re with other girls, I…want to be a part of it.”
Chastity and Claire wasted no time stripping fully.
“Now wait one second,” Chastity said seductively, before deeply kissing Claire. “We’ve got something to show you.”
Chastity draped her shirt over Javier’s eyes.
“No peeking,” she said with a coquettish giggle.
Chastity’s heart raced as she prepared herself for Javier.
When Javier opened his eyes, he saw a wet dream come to life. Both girls had slipped on little outfits—an exaggeration of a term, really, for the scraps of fabric they wore. Chastity wore a microscopic little tartan skirt with knee-high socks and an open, unbuttoned white school uniform shirt. Her full, gravity-defying tits caused his mouth to water. It was obvious that she wore no panties underneath the skirt.
Claire, on the other hand, went more for a slutty, hooker look. Seeing the cute, petite girl in four-inch stilettos, thigh-high fishnets, and a spiked dog collar made him see her in a new light. Now the giant hoop earrings she was wearing when he ran into her around the way made more sense. They were part of the whole ensemble.
“You can do anything you want to us,” Chastity cooed. “We’ll suck your dick.”
The girls began to kiss, exploring each other with their hands. With the added height, Claire could lock lips with Chastity without craning her beck, and she took full advantage to probe the inside of Chastity’s mouth with her tongue. After a passionate wet kiss, Claire broke their embrace.
“You’ll probably want to see us taste each other for the first time.”
Chastity smiled. She was glad that Claire had not only agreed to this, but was also getting into it.
“And I know you’ll want to make us both cum on that monster cock of yours.”
Claire stepped behind Chastity and reached both arms around her hips. Her fingers found Chastity’s labia, which she spread apart for Javier.
“Look how pink she is. I can’t wait to get my tongue in there.”
Chastity was pleasantly surprised by Claire’s interest in her. She could feel herself getting wet just from her touch. Claire’s small but perky tits brushed against her back. Javier had seen enough by that point and wanted in on the action. He rose and approached Chastity, shedding his pants as quickly as he could manage.
“Plenty of time for you prick teases to rub cunts later. I want you both down here.”
Javier pointed to his feet, and both girls unhesitatingly got down on their knees.
“Do that shit where you kiss, with my dick in the middle.”
Chastity had watched enough porn with Javier to know exactly what he was talking about. Facing Claire on her knees, she pursed her lips. Claire did the same, and they pressed their lips against the side of Javier’s engorged shaft. They quickly found a rhythm together, moving in tandem to stroke Javier’s member with their mouths. Their tongues, fighting to find each other around the throbbing meat, coated Javier’s cock in saliva. Chastity opened her eyes to look at Claire, whose eyes were closed. Barely audible moans, almost whimpers, escaped from Claire, and Chastity noticed for the first time that she was frantically fingering herself.
Chastity saw Javier reach his hand into Claire’s hair and gently push her lower, towards his hairy, pendulous balls. She took the hint and began bathing his balls with her darting little tongue. With her friend now occupied, Chastity shifted a bit to take Javier’s cock into her mouth. Both girls were pressed in close together, each with one of Javier’s massive hands guiding her head insistently forward. Chastity fought her gag reflex, hoping to take as much of him in as possible. Spurred on by her example, Claire took one of Javier’s balls into her mouth, blowing air around it as she continued to massage his nutsack with her tongue.
“No touching yourself, girl,” he ordered. “That’s what friends are for.”
Chastity had to pull Javier’s cock out of her mouth for a moment to laugh. Why is she having to touch herself? That is what I’m for. Chastity reach down to find Claire’s clit. She started to slowly circle her index and middle fingers along it. Claire had already made herself good and wet, and now Chastity could feel her body responding. Claire switched from the left to the right testicle, causing her to lean in even more towards Chastity. When Chastity inhaled Javier’s cock completely, their faces rested against one another. Chastity felt the soft smoothness of Claire’s skin against her own.
Her eyes were watering now from the exertion of taking Javier so deep into her throat. When she could take no more and had to withdraw his root from her windpipe, a thick, viscous saliva followed her, connecting her mouth to Javier’s thick, reddened cock. The rope of spit connecting her mouth to Javier’s cock bowed downwards, until it settled on the crown of Claire’s head. Chastity felt a little bad about getting all that spit on Claire, before she remembered that both of them would end up looking like a soaking mess by the end of the night. She tensed a bit when she felt Claire’s arm cross over her own and beginning gently rubbing Chastity’s own swollen clit.
Chastity took Javier deep into her throat again, her throat muscles hugging his veiny member. She had worked up so much of that thick saliva that he could slide his cock in and out with ease, although only for as long as her oxygen held out.
“Switch,” Javier ordered, and Chastity pulled the cock out of her mouth, expecting to take her turn with his balls.
Claire reached up to grab his cock and position it in her mouth when Javier pushed her hand away.
“Not that kind of switch. Around the back.”
Chastity was afraid for a minute. Claire had been forced—were we really forced to do anything?—to rim the frat brothers a lot. She didn’t enjoy the experience to say the least. Claire hesitated for a moment.
“Oh, I get it,” he said. “Bend over the bed.”
Claire paused for a moment before complying. She arched her back across the edge of the bed, exposing her pussy and ass to Javier.
“Them motherfuckers never cleaned their ass. I know you gonna like this, girl.”
Javier flicked his tongue across Claire’s puckered anus. She cooed with pleasure. Reaching deep into her pussy, he began to crook his finger, rubbing the upper walls of her cunt. After teasing the outside of her anal passage, he elicited a passionate moan when he entered her ass with his tongue. He tongue-fucked her for a minute or so, before he withdrew and turned to Chastity, who was staring in rapt, almost hypnotic attention.
“Here, baby, you try it.”
Chastity was a bit nervous, but she knew that it had to be OK if Javier would do it himself. She leaned in closer to Claire’s slender, but surprisingly round ass. For such a skinny girl, Claire had just the right amount of jiggle in her butt. Claire’s hands, pulling her cheeks apart to expose her most tender, vulnerable hole to Javier and Chastity; her legs, trembling with sensation from Javier’s expert ministrations; her long brown hair, tossing gently from side to side as she moved incessantly from the gathering storm within. Claire was there for the taking, and Chastity wanted to taste her so bad. She stuck out her tongue and moved in towards her target. The soft, wriggling tongue tickled the outside of Claire’s anus before making its way, slowly but insistently into her inner recesses.
Chastity could feel Claire’s heartbeat echo throughout her own body. Javier picked up speed with his finger, until Claire could take no more. Claire came, grinding her hips into the bed. Chastity pulled away from her friend and began running her hands across her ass. Her skin, now covered with little goosebumps, was smooth, flawless, unblemished. After a moment to catch her breath, Claire twisted at the waist, turning her shoulders to look around before flipping her body completely. Laying on her back now, she gazed upon the couple who had just introduced her to the pleasures of receiving a sensual and erotic anal tongue fuck.
“Holy crap,” she said breathlessly. “I get it now.”
Chastity held her friend’s hand. She was starting to feel something more than friendship. She realized that she wanted this to be more than just a one-time, trial thing. She had real feelings for Claire, both emotional and passionately physical.
“Don’t give up on me now, baby,” she said to Claire. “We better get this monster off before we play more.”
With that, Chastity took her place in front of Javier, again choking herself with his cock. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Claire moving around behind him, taking her place on the floor, where she would begin to lap at Javier’s bunghole. Getting Claire off had stirred Javier even further, and it wasn’t long until he clamped his hand down on the back of Chastity’s head, pumping a prodigious load of cum straight into her gullet. He reached around to tap Claire on the back of the head. She backed away from his ass and craned around to see Chastity.
“You save any of that?,” she asked.
“Why, did you want to share? He shot it straight into my throat.”
Claire moved over to sit on the bed, patting the spot beside her. While Javier went to find a bottle of water, Chastity moved over to sit close beside Claire. They both still wore their little cosplay outfits, though their make-up was ruined. They both had to laugh a little at that—Claire’s hair was matted with a copious amount of saliva from Chastity, while Chastity’s mascara had run all over, a side effect of all the gagging and choking on Javier’s meaty cock.
Claire grabbed a little cotton pad and started to wipe up the excess make-up, revealing the fresh-faced girl underneath. Chastity started to stroke her thighs, smiling up at her and looking at her own tiny reflection in Claire’s eyes.
“That was incredible,” Claire said. “I want you to feel that. I’ll do it for you.”
“Feeling you, when you were, you know,” Chastity stammered shyly. “It was so amazing.”
Claire smiled at her friend’s strange sense of innocence, made all the more endearing by the fact that she had moved her hand to brush against Claire’s pussy seemingly without thinking. She just had a subconscious need to please others, and Claire hoped that Chastity would give her some of that attention now. Missing the feeling of April’s soft tongue and the orgasms it brought her, Claire hoped that Javier wouldn’t mind her becoming much closer to Chastity. She saw him come back into the room and plop down in the desk chair facing the bed, his cock semi-hard, long and floppy against the inside of his thigh. She knew he would be far from spent, but in the interval, she wanted to make Chastity cum, make her feel the same, so that she would be able to have her again and again. Putting on a girl-on-girl fuckfest for Javier would smooth over any objections he might have to Claire sampling his girlfriend as well.
They would both get fucked tonight, that was certain. Depending upon how many times Javier could get it up, they might find themselves both stuffed in all three holes. Claire knew how Javier and the guys he associated with could treat a girl. Being with Chastity had mellowed him a ton. He seemed different without Simon’s evil influence too. She had been afraid at first, when she balked at rimming him, but he had played it pretty cool, actually. She smiled at Chastity. Sweet Chastity. She’s really too good for him.
She brushed the hair back from Chastity’s face, before pulling her into a deep and passionate kiss. Javier watched avidly as she gently tweaked Chastity’s nipples, making them stand at attention. Claire took the lead, kissing down Chastity’s neck before lowering her to the bed and taking her left breast into her mouth and sucking greedily but softly on her nipple. Claire could sense intuitively the pleasure coursing through Chastity’s body.
She spun the pliant girl over, startling Chastity with the motion. Now it’s time to win him over, she told herself. She tugged at Chastity’s hips until she got the idea and popped her ass into ther air, resting her head against a pillow at the head of the bed. Claire ran her tongue from the top of Chastity’s ass crack all the way to her clit and thought the poor girl would die of ecstasy right then. She repeated the motion a handful of times before inserting her two fingers deep into Chastity’s snatch. A couple of quick darts of her tongue, and Chastity’s anus started to quiver and clench involuntarily with pleasure. Claire turned to look over at Javier, eyes glazed with lust.
“You got a plug? I want to stretch her good and well before you get that thing hard again and split her open.”
Javier smiled. He could get used to this girl hanging around.
Katie spent the rest of her Saturday in preparation. A chance run-in with a couple of Simon’s former maids had proven fortuitous—she had learned that Simon’s girlfriend would be out of town until Monday. Sunday night was her night.
Her mind had wandered with punishments, but they always seemed to fall into two categories: way too mild and impossibly murderous. She wasn’t going to cut his dick off or run him over with her car. Most of all, she wanted to humiliate him publicly and puncture his little sense of superiority. Emasculating him in front of his stupid fraternity would be perfect, and Katie imagined it to be poetic justice if she could do to him, in his own creepy dungeon basement, what he had done to her.
She had the money shot in her mind: Simon, bent over with a large dildo protruding from his ass. The brothers—hell, the whole campus—would love to see that. She would just show him, though, a bit of leverage and payback for her own tape. Now how to get there?
Unlike Simon, she had no drug connections. She didn’t own a gun, and would be afraid to hold one anyway. He might kick a knife out of her hand, so that was out. Finally, she settled on a weapon beloved of frightened women: a stun gun, purchased from a police supply store conveniently located near Sindee’s adult video and novelty store. There, she had found the right balance of comical and humiliating sex gear to really make her revenge scene perfect.
That night she watched the house where Simon and his perverted friends lived. It was Saturday, which meant a party that could last all night. Groups of people came in and out of the house, while she observed from the car. A girl she recognized—Anna, maybe? Or is it Hannah?—came out a bit disheveled around eleven. Katie slumped down a bit watching the girl as she approached the car on her way back to old campus from the AD house. Probably some innocent girl getting abused in there, she thought.
On a normal night, staying up till three in the morning would have been a tall order for Katie, but this night was different. She was wired from the adrenaline of it all. She had never let her self admit it—she wasn’t ready to put it all behind her and move on. Though she had dreaded her conversation with Simon that morning, it had made everything clear to her: until Simon paid, until she had the power and he felt weak and used, she would never be satisfied.
By 3:45, all of the lights were out, including in the room she knew to be Simon’s. Now for the hard part, she told herself. Creeping up to the door, she tried her card. The AD house used the keyless lock system that the rest of the campus used, only the brothers had the program to control who had entry to the house. When they were dating, Simon had granted her access, and she could only hope that he had neglected to remove it. When the touchpad turned green, she knew she could enter—in fact, there was nothing to stop her from executing her plan immediately. Her fear, though, was still too great. She needed to mentally prepare herself, to think of every contingency, in order to be ready for anything Simon might throw her way. She backed away from the door and returned home for a well-deserved night’s sleep.
The next day, she woke up late from what had to have been a steamy dream. All through the day, she felt incredibly horny, in fact. After lunch, alone in her room, she allowed her mind to wander, fantasizing about sodomizing her hated abuser. She hated the way he smiled. She hated his piercing eyes and chiseled jaw. Hated his quiet but unmistakeable confidence. Hated every time he had made her cum. Hated him for not wanting her anymore.
Almost without thinking, she found her hand down her skirt, mindlessly rubbing the top of her clit. What the hell?, she thought. I deserve this. She was about to bring herself off when her phone rang. Damn! A half-hour of awkward, mood-killing conversation with her dad left her neither ready to start again nor completely over the need to cum. This will have to wait—maybe till afterwards.
All day she counted down the hours, until finally it was still, dark, and empty outside. She made her way, as she had done many times before, to the Alpha Delta house. Once inside, she knew that things could go wrong any moment. She had a cover story—the most obvious one she could find—that she was just there to pick up a sweater she had left behind.
Fortunately, Sunday was one day the brothers often did take off from partying. She got to Simon’s room. This is it, she thought. I’ve got to make him know I’m serious. She approached Simon, fast asleep, and looked into his face. Sleeping, he looked almost peaceful, serene. That changed when Katie placed the piece of black electrical tape over his mouth and jabbed him once with the taser.
A pain, electric and white-hot, shot through Simon. He tried to scream, but the tape muffled it. In a state of momentary shock, he looked up to see his ex.
“Don’t say a word. Walk down to the place where you…did what you did to me on Halloween. I will shock you again.”
Simon seemed a bit disoriented, but quickly gathered his wits and did as she said. Once they were in one of his private rooms, Katie locked the door and issued her next instructions.
“Put your hands behind your back and don’t move.”
She cuffed him, and the metal bracelets dug into his skin.
“This was the place where you made me read my article, while you fucked me. Now, you’re the one getting fucked.”
Katie pulled off Simon’s boxers, the only clothes he was wearing. She was afraid he would kick her, so she pressed the stun gun against his side, letting him know she could incapacitate him at a moment’s notice. He didn’t stir.
The room looked different than before. Is someone living down here?
“Bend over the bed over there.”
Katie brandished her dildo, letting Simon guess what she had planned.
“Put your head down against the bed. Now!”
Simon complied immediately, calmly. Once the initial surprise of being woken by 50,000 volts had worn off, he seemed decidedly unimpressed by her revenge, even as he went along with her demands. In fact, his impassivity was disturbing Katie. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, she thought. He should be crying and ashamed.
Suddenly she heard her own voice in her head. The adrenaline rush yesterday. The day-long horniness. The daydreams of Simon’s abuse. She was getting off on the power of it all. She was just like him.
“Don’t move, ” she said, before ripping off the tape.
Though it looked painful, Simon followed her dictates. He neither moved nor spoke.
“Do you have anything to say to me?,” she asked.
Simon, stripped naked, handcuffed, and bent over a bed awaiting imminent sodomy, nonchalantly replied.
“Hi, Katie. This is a surprise.”
“The real surprise is when I show everyone the pictures,” she replied, her voice trembling.
“Yeah, I don’t see that happening.”
“You don’t believe I’ll do it?”
“Not like this. I think you much prefer taking cock in the ass. This way around just doesn’t seem right to me.”
It was like he was egging her on, daring her to do it. Yet he seemed wholly unafraid. Everything was ready, for Simon’s final humiliation. Katie, however, hesitated. This felt wrong. Could she really follow through with it? Moreover, Simon had yet to show even the slightest fear or shame. Of course, she remembered. Sociopaths don’t feel those kinds of emotions. Oh shit…
“You…you don’t care, do you? This isn’t—oh, God.”
For someone holding all the power right now, I don’t feel in control, she thought. Get it together!
“Look, you can use your toy on me all you want. It won’t change anything. I won’t be tied up forever. And I could give a fuck what pictures you take. Deep down, you know I’m going to win this.”
Katie fought the urge to start crying. She had gotten this far, had Simon in his most vulnerable state—and he was still winning.
“But, look, I understand your need for revenge. I’ll even help you out.”
With that, Simon moved from his prone position, standing up and walking over to the bed. I should be stopping him, she thought forlornly. Katie did not so much as move a muscle, offering him no resistance.
“Re-cuff me—to the bedposts this time.”
Katie sensed a trap.
“You’ll hit me or something. You’ll get away.”
“I don’t want to get away,” he replied.
Katie was distraught and in shock. Oddly, she believed him. He didn’t seem to want to escape. Her body seemed to be moving of its own accord. Like a zombie, she shambled over to Simon’s bedside, dangerously close to him. Still, part of her expected him to hit her when she undid the cuffs—she was an intruder, an attempted (and failed) rapist. But he remained as self-possessed as ever, and allowed her to cuff his hand above his head on the metal headboard rail.
“Good girl. OK, now’s your chance. Hit me.”
Katie was thrown into a minor panic. She had never thrown a punch in real life. Even a hard slap was out of her realm of experience.
“Don’t you remember how it felt when I split your skinny ass open? When you whored yourself out to me? When I blew my load right—”
Katie felt like she had just woken up from a dream. Her hand stung, and Simon’s left cheek was now red. I hit him, she thought. And it felt good.
“Is that all your ass was worth?”
Katie slapped Simon again, this time consciously. At that point, the floodgates were open, and she began pummeling him, raining down slaps and weak punches to his chest. Simon laid there and took it, occasionally using a pause to insult her some more: “whore,” “cock sucker,” “sperm bank.” Without thinking, she hopped up on the bed, straddling him to better exert her will over him. That doubt and fear that had stopped her short just a moment ago was gone. She felt the thrill of control again and in the familiar place too.
Holy shit, she realized. I’m so horny right now.
Katie hopped off Simon momentarily to secure the tape over his mouth again. She didn’t want to listen to that arrogant bastard when what was about to happen happened. She felt a strong desire to suddenly rip it off again, to do that over and over again until he finally showed her a response—pain, anger, fear, lust. Anything but this casual indifference.
Author’s Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you do not like it, do not read it. Thanks for any feedback, comments, votes or favorites. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: This particular fiction story contains adultery, drugs, and may contain terrible, terrible writing among many other things. All characters are eighteen or over if they are naked or sexual. This story has been re-submitted and tweaked for a second chapter that I had not totally intended to write.
Coincidentally By Design, Or: Chapter 1
“Never a moment’s rest,” he said aloud as he ran from the shower, the towel he held barely following along the way as he ran down the hall to the ringing phone. Still dripping, and seeing a number on the ID that he did not recognize, Albert had no choice but to answer.
“Hello?” he said with every ounce of question and dripping annoyance that he had.
“Uh… Hey, Alby. Um.. What are you doing right now?”
“Beulah?” Is everything all right? Are the kids OK?” Albert could not have been more confused or worried. His best friend-and-co-worker’s wife was on the phone. Something could be wrong.
“Uh, yeah, it’s me. Don’t get worried, the kids are fine, but it is kind of an emergency though. So what are you doing right this instant?”
“Uh,” Albert looked around as if he did not know what to say, and then stared at the puddle on the carpet along with the poorly tied towel he still held onto around his waist. “Nothing too terribly important. Just got home from work a little bit ago. Why, what’s up, Bee?”
“I was wondering if you could let me in?” Beulah almost whispered into her end of the phone.
“Let you into where?” Surely she was not at his front door.
“Um… your apartment. It’s kind of weird standing on the stoop on the phone when I could just speak to you.”
“Didn’t Steven leave on the certification trip this morning?” None of this was making any sense to Albert.
“He did, but this is kinds ’bout ‘im.” Her heavy accent went sheepish.
“Uh… I don’t think that’s a good idea Bee,” Albert knew the rules. Never be alone with your friend’s wife unless he says it is OK, and especially, never butt into their marriage.
“Please…” The sound of desperation was heard in Beulah’s voice.
“Uh, ok, give me a sec, I guess I’ll be right down,” Albert’s brain was telling of bad ideas and conversations from earlier in the week, but Albert was more concerned with wearing pants in front of his best friend’s wife. He was still dripping when he opened the door.
Beulah stood on the opposite side of the solid door in all her glory, defeating the late setting sun in the background: She was wearing three inch heels and a short pleated black skirt accompanied by a high riding white tank top without a bra, nor one built in. Her light brown hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders, and she had gotten a tan since the last time they had seen each other at Steven and Beulah’s daughter Kaylee’s birthday party.
Had Albert not been stunned by the sight before him, he would have slammed the door closed; because he was stunned, Beulah pushed past his hanging jaw with a hand on his wet chest and was walking up the stairs before he could react. He cursed himself for not putting a shirt on.
“Bee, you shouldn’t be here, you have to go-o…” He watched her naked bits below the pleated skirt while he still held the door open at the bottom of the stairs; she was not wearing underwear, and her plump lips were shaved.
His mouth was open again.
Albert had always been attracted to his co-worker’s wife; attracted even before Steven and Beulah were married; attracted back when they were in school together, back when Beulah was Albert’s best and only friend.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Nelson has the kids until Steven gets back. We, you and me, we have to talk, it’s important.” Beulah had not turned to speak to Albert, instead continuing to walk up the carpeted steps with words over her shoulder.
When Beulah turned the corner at the top of the stairs and into his second floor apartment, Albert could swear she stuck out her rump since the pleats of the skirt were forced to twirl behind her body, exposing her crafted stockingless (yup) golden thigh.
Albert followed her path slowly; he was trying as hard as he could to remember something that was said in another conversation, but his mind was still blank and thinking only of the perfect naked ass he had just seen bare for the first time. Her rear end was shaped like an upside down heart.
By the time Albert had made it to the top of the stairs, Beulah was sitting cross legged on his L-shaped couch, dangling a pump off of the toe of the leg in the front. She must have gone to Albert’s fridge, as there were two micro-brews sitting unopened and condensing on the table in front of her. She was lighting a joint as he approached.
“This isn’t really an emergency, is it?” Albert was serious in his question despite the fuddled brain, and he was unsure if she had brought a purse.
“Nope’r.” She said, ashing in a nearby houseplant.
“Um.. Bee, this is wrong… I mean Steven is my best friend.” Albert looked frightened, and her brightening headlights almost froze his body.
“…and he’s my husband. It’s his own fault that I am here, anyway.” Beulah said through held breath. Albert suddenly remembered a conversation – the one he thought was important – in full. It was the one that his brain was trying to remind him of.
“Oh no. No. Please don’t do this.” Not her, not this woman, this was wrong, even if it felt right. It was wrong all around, even if he was given permission.
He was no longer pacing, instead standing firm and separated from her body by only a glass table.
“Man, we got in such a fight this weekend.” Albert had just finished telling Steven the details of the trip he would be taking on Friday, just before Steven had decided to talk about his personal life. Albert could never understand why Steven would fight with a woman like Beulah, let alone call her ‘low class’ as Steven often did.
It was only by accident that Beulah was back in Albert’s life. He had confessed his love to her at their senior graduation; Beulah, in turn, had run away from him at full speed when he had finished speaking. Eight years later, at the company picnic Albert held for his employees, he saw Beulah attached to the arm of his newest hire: Steven, who also just happened to be a great worker and well qualified.
“Oh yeah, about what?” Albert was genuinely curious.
Starting a profitable company from scratch had taken a chunk out of Albert’s ability to have a relationship, running said company made things even worse. Long drives like these let him live vicariously through his employees. Steven, as well, had become a close friend in the two years since he was hired, so Albert was genuinely curious.
“Oh the same old bullshit about not having enough romance, and that I never take her out anymore or talk to her. I keep trying to tell her that we’re almost in our thirties and that we have kids or that I fuggin’ work all day or that we could talk if she stopped yelling, but she doesn’t get it.”
“You’re an idiot Steven,” Albert said in his head while replying, “That sucks,” outwardly to his friend and employee. Then again, Beulah always did pick the winners. Albert had wanted to speak to Beulah about Steven, but their false fronts prevented them from doing so.
“Yeah, it does. It got bad, too. She started yelling I was shitty in bed. So you know what I told that bitch?” Steven almost looked proud despite his vulgar words.
“What did you say?”
“I told her that if I was no good, that she should just go find someone else to fuck, but to lose some weight first.” Steven was all pride.
“No way…” Albert was appalled, Steven took it as impressed.
“Yeah I did. I told her to find someone who would put up with her shit. Otherwise, she should shut her fat fucking mouth.” Steven was smiling broadly and Albert was trying not to be angry by reminding himself that people could change.
“Wow, man…. What did she do when you said that?” Albert was more curious why Steven would say such things to a woman like Beulah. Albert knew, for a fact, that some women were shaped differently; Stevens taste in women gave Albert the impression that they needed to eat something.
Albert’s mother, as well as Beulah’s own, had tried to feed the skinny tom-boy every time she was in their eyesight. Albert remembered just how boney she was when she was younger; these days Beulah was not overweight: She was tall, and healthy, and she had finally filled out into adulthood: Stacked and soft in all the right places.
“Bitch locked herself in the bathroom after yelling at me for fighting loud enough for the kids to hear, like they’re going to wake up.” Steven began to laugh.
“You weren’t serious, were you? No, you can’t be.” Albert shook his head in disbelief for a moment. “You don’t think you’re asking for trouble? ‘Cause I think you are.” Albert really wanted to know more, even if it was none of his business.
“Man, I don’t really care as long as she takes care of my kids. She’ll never leave me anyway. She needs me. I told her again yesterday when she all tried to apologize. I said she should start looking for a new piece of ass. No one want’s her haggard ass, anyway. Shit, Bertman, You never get laid and you wouldn’t even hit that shit.”
Albert laughed at the absurdity of passing up a chance with Beulah, thinking of body parts to offer up as sacrifice. This laughter, misinterpreted by Steven, only fueled his vulgarity.
“Lord knows I will start looking on this trip,” Steven slicked back his thinning black hair. “She’ll never fucking know cause we never fuck anymore.” Steven’s confidence was infectious, his illiteration(yup) was carrying plague.
“I’m glad you don’t deal with the customers.” Albert said, still laughing at something completely different.
“No.No.Noway.Wecan’tdothisBeulah. You have to leave, like right now.” He spoke the last measure of his words in his home accent and drawl. Albert really should have put a shirt on, the muscle symphony from his pacing was only agitating her further along; Beulah could feel the humidity from his damp skin, perfectly messy hair, and the moist top of his net shorts hanging from his nonexistent hips though the evening was turning chilly, pre-fall, and dry.
The windows were open, and the crisp air was creeping into the warm apartment; it only seemed to act as fuel when it hit Beulah’s shoulders, or when it ran through the holes in Albert’s shorts.
“Oh, so he told you…” Beulah’s words carried a second phrase of “fucking figures” silently in tandem with the roll of her eyes. She sighed as she kicked off her heels and stood, taking a few steps to her left, along the rectangle table and towards the shelves. She was running her finger across his collection of albums upon arrival, in search of a specific title naming a thing that he was too young to have purchased new.
“Yeah, he.. sortofsaidsomething. Look, he’s like my best friend Beulah, we can’t do this.”
“We were best friends once…” she was ignoring him, heightening the effect of the unsaid, while offering him the joint. When he didn’t take it, she hung it from her lips and bent over to start the record meticulously. Not a scratch was heard as static and the sight of her unclad cheeks filled the air.
Despite the view, her words stung, and they brought Albert back to another time. This conversation was going to happen now, even if he wanted her to go before he made a bad choice.
” ‘fuck.” He reacted late as her words finally stuck too deep. Albert sat – fell – diagonally across from her retaken seat on the L, and took the J from her, hitting it with the remainder of the alphabet.
Reggatta De Blanc, his favorite album, had begun to play, acting as the trigger. The songs always calmed him down and made him feel better.
These two individuals had not been alone since the day Albert told Beulah he loved her. Until that day, they were inseparable; they had, literally, hung out every day of their conscious lives.
The classy word still hung over the sound of the record playing at the perfect volume
When she softly fell back into the couch, she took in the sight of her husband’s best friend: Shirtless, damp, tense, conflicted, and well defined. Beulah took the time to open the slick beer bottles upon the glass table with her disposable lighter; she took a sip of her own beer, sitting it in her lap rather than placing it on the table next to his.
Albert had always been a worker, and a swimmer, even when they were younger and merely separated by a farm field in a remote ‘hick’ town. The sight of his features showed her the value.
“Why did you run away from me.” Albert passed her back the remainder of the illicit substance, and snagged his beer from the table. This may have been his best friend’s wife, but he deserved an answer, even if he was staring at her legs.
“Alby honey…” Beulah was the only person to call him Ably, a name he had not heard in a long time, especially not in front of Steven – whom knew none of this history. “You weren’t the first boy to say you loved me, ya’ know? What was I supposed to do? I was young, but I knew I would hold you back. I’m not smart like you, you were going places. Look at you now.”
“So were you.” Albert said without hesitation. “None of that stuff is true, Bee. It wouldn’t matter if it was. You could have come with me.”
“You’re the only one who ever said so…” Only the music was heard for a time.
“Richie Hinkley was the first one to say he loved you.” Albert had interrupted the silence of the music. “I remember. You told me that same night, on the dock on your momma’s pond. Remember? We were looking at that book of constellations.” The two sat in silence again, both sitting back and holding cold tinted glass. “You could have just believed me, I never lied to you. I was never like that dirt bag Richie, or those pigs Rudolph and David.”
Albert stood and turned off the record at the end of the first side, but just before the automatic player reset, sitting back down when he was finished. He only smiled at her confused glance before he picked up a remote from the end table and hit a primary button.
The corner of the room, opposite the record player, lit up, and a moment later Albert was pressing new buttons with a level of finesse that implied knowledge. The B side of the same album began to play and Albert set down the remote, smiling.
“Nerd,” Beulah threw out, grinning.
“Only you would know,” he said in throwback and continuing with “yokel,” using their old joke. “It’ll go on random after this, too.”
“My Momma did always like you, Grammy too.” Beulah looked at the cool bottle in between her legs as she spoke.
“I heard about your momma… I’m sorry Bee Lah… How is she doin’?” Albert did always like Beulah’s mother, not to mention she made the best pound cake in the world and deserved recognition for it.
“Thanks. She’s.. uh.. We sold her house. She’s on hospice for the past month… not long.” Beulah’s words dwarfed the look on her face; a look Albert had forgotten that he missed. “She always did say: ‘Nobody gets out alive.’ “
“You could have listened to her.” Albert uttered with longing, smiling in retrospect and agreement to her mother’s favorite quote.
“Well, by the time I figured that out, I was pregnant. Then Steven and I got married. I never thought I would see you again…”
The two were silent for a passing instant before Beulah resumed. “I always knew you would be successful, I just didn’t think you would end up here. I mean we are so far from home…” Beulah’s look was wistful and longing to say the least.
“Me neither… I thought you didn’t recognize me at Steven’s first picnic.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t recognize me. Ohmy, then you and Steven got along so well…” she actually batted her hand in his direction while she spoke; Albert so missed the Southern Belles, just being around her was bringing his lost accent back more and more.
“I was going to tell him about us.” Albert looked guilty; he felt guilty.
“Then why didn’t you?” Beulah suddenly appeared as he always remembered her; as he had not seen in so long: Alive, and perky, and ready to cause trouble. He had forgotten how it felt to be alone with her. As much as he had inflated her charms in his memories, they were still sub-par to the real deal.
“I.. uh.. Look, Bee, you have to go.” Albert had missed her, yet he was feeling as if only yesterday they were shoulder to shoulder counting stars. He had especially missed this part of her: The part made for best friends and lovers; despite this, he was still unprepared for her boldness; he had been unprepared for her attitude in his youth, a thing she would quickly exploit in those days; all these years later and she was no different.
“…but you didn’t, did you?” Her words and accent hung in the Northern air; it felt like hours before she spoke again, but Albert’s hair was still crisp when she began to repeat herself.
“Why didn’t you?” Beulah stood, cocking her head to the side while simultaneously slipping a thumb into the waistband of her skirt, and moving the other into the bottom of her shirt, exposing her belly button and lightened C scars as she settled with one hip up. She was fit and beautiful, all curves and thick; shadows of muscles across her stomach, arms, shoulders, and thighs mapped creation’s plan for her shape.
Beulah had grown up, she had started eating, and she had been working out. Their mothers would be proud of her posture and form.
“I.. uh..” Albert was looking at his lap, trying not to stare at her, absently turning his head side to side. Her breasts were twice the size he remembered, and he could see her large nipples, exactly as he remembered. It was ten years since he took anything but an obscure glance of her.
“You still love me, don’t you?” Beulah had a look of concern on her face when she asked, but still stood sexy with one hip up and a thumb sliding side to side under the waistband while the other thumb sat still.
“I.. uh..” Albert was still looking at his lap, still trying not to stare at her, and still absently turning his head side to side, slowly.
Beulah began to sway her hips to snake charm the motion of his head, falling in time with his movement. One of her exposed hips continually stopped higher than the other before changing direction, slowly turning his pace into her own.
Her magic was working. “Steven doesn’t love me anymore. He hasn’t loved me for fifteen minutes of the last two years.” She began moving both of her thumbs under the waistband of her skirt, pushing it dangerously lower with each pass.
“Bee Lah.. I.. uh.. togo..” Albert set his bottle down and looked as if he were about to stand up and leave his own home, even if he was staring at her, and even if his head was still moving to and fro, but to her specifications.
He was enthralled, he could not move his body to the will of his racing thoughts; Beulah took immediate advantage, her speed surprised and returned him back into his seat. Before Albert knew what had happened, his head was against the cushion of the couch and each of Beulah’s hands were on his respective thighs; the cute nose built for her face was nearly touching his own: Her mother had the same nose, Kaylee as well.
“My husband gave us permission, you know, and I want it to be you, Alby.” Beulah’s eyes were flashing behind their light blue rings.
“I know you’re alone, I know you’re clean, and I know you’re a good man.” Beulah was looking right into his eyes, yet Albert could only see her ample cleavage within the loosely hanging top and her small eraser nipples encircled by tiny bumps.
Let me tell you a little about myself, I am pink when not being used, I am above average when it comes to size, I believe I am around 8 ½ inches and my owner can’t even get his whole had around me when he is busy abusing me. When I get excited my veins look angry under my skin, and I turn a dark shade of red. Just before I throw up my head turns a brilliant purple. Unlike my fellow body part the stomach, my throw up seems to cause a lot of pleasure to my owner. He is always trying so hard to make me do it, he must like it!
I really like when he rubs me fast, it is such a rush when blood fills all my vessels. I feel so proud standing at attention. The best feeling is when I get to go spelunking, nothing like traveling into a nice warm cave. For some reason my owner thinks I should be caving in the tightest holes. I know one thing for sure the tighter the cave is he has me explore, the more I puke! I guess it is the pressure that is applied around my throat, kind of like when a person puts their thumb over the end of a hose nozzle. I just spray so much harder it is unbelievable.
Although I don’t mind going into tight fissures, I am not too pleased when my boss stuffs me into the smelly caves. Sure it is good for him, I mean when I go into the smelly cave I puke so hard he almost passes out. I am glad he can’t find too many others that want to let their dark foul cavern be explored. But I will let you know about those later in my tale.
I have run into some pretty “hard” times, pun intended! I remember the night he got experimental with some medication and it made me so tired. Hell I must have been standing at attention for three or four hours non stop! Then another time he put a piece of paper on his tongue and my two friends that are always hanging out below me got so tired because he had us working all night long. I ended up puking six times that night. The next day my skin was all red and raw, man I hurt! I wasn’t going to stand at attention for him for at least a week after that punishment no matter how much he tried to make me.
There was the week we went to Mexico, he put me in this nasty cave, and it was so gross I could barely stay at attention. He covered me in a clear raincoat and even though I didn’t want to I ended up throwing up all over myself. I hate those stupid raincoats, I can barely breathe, it just doesn’t feel right and when I am being suffocated it takes me so long to vomit! Anyway after we got home I felt incredibly itchy and noticed I had all these little creatures crawling all over me and my two friends. He had to go to the doctor and I ended up swallowing this metal pole, I thought I would die!
The worst pain I have ever felt though was the day my master was taking a quick pee and forgot to tuck me in before he pulled the teeth of death up on me. I was all folded in between each tooth of the dreaded zipper. When he finally got the courage to pull the zipper down I started bleeding all over myself. It just wouldn’t stop; I got really scared that day.
Now it is time; I am going to tell you all about some of my spelunking adventures. I have traveled through all types of caves. Some of the ones I have been in have been so tight I could barely breathe, while in others I had enough room to wonder about. I have been rained on, scraped up a bit from the rough dry terrain and I have even on a couple of occasions voyaged through rivers of red. All these journeys hold special memories deep inside.
The tightest travels by far have been taken in the putrid crevices. One time I had to go through a bloody forest and my two friends below kept getting mad because they were bouncing into two others just like themselves. Yes these deep caves were not my cup of tea, even though my master tried his damnedest to get me in them. More times than not he would be forcing me into one of these stinky spaces and I would not only end up with my own puke on myself but I would end up covered in slime and mud. No matter how wet you could get caving when you went exploring, when you went in the murky ones you always came out filthy.
So to wrap up my little synopsis here about my cave diving. Others like me know; no matter how much you masters enjoy thrusting us into the reeking holes remember what it is like, for your dick! Even if we puke at the first few thrusts it doesn’t necessarily mean that is that great for us!
Part VI of the Blackmail tales. If you haven’t already read them, you may want to start with parts I through 5, A Bit of Blackmail, A Bit More Blackmail, A Blackmail Buddy, and the Blackmail Tales. Just click on my name to find all my stories, and start from there.
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Chapter 06: Hot-tub Hijinks
Our little plan to involve our spouses was working to perfection. Krista’s boys were off at a weekend camp, and my daughter was at a sleep-over. The four of us had enjoyed a ‘grown-up’ movie, fine dining, and had returned to my place for a nightcap.
I had just finished adding landscape lighting to the backyard, and we retired to the patio where the guys could enjoy a cigar, and we could all relax over a couple of glasses of wine. We’d shared a single bottle of wine at dinner, and were looking to add to that at home. I cranked up the tunes just enough to drown out the sound of the road out front, made sure everybody was settled in, and using a cedar strip, lit up.
I’d had very little to drink, as the driver, and shortly headed to the kitchen to prepare myself a shot. While there I put another part of my plan into action, pulling out a tray of Jello shots I had prepared earlier. These were no ordinary shots. I had stopped by a friend at the gym who hooked me up with a little chemical assistance for the evening. The pink shots, for the ladies, contained Raspberry Jello, Vodka, and a half dose of GHB. Just a little to get them in the mood. The Blue shot for Rich had half a Viagra pill, and a half dose of GHB. Since the shots are swallowed whole, they shouldn’t taste the surprises, and the additives should leave them ready, willing and able.
I headed back out poolside, shots in hand and passed them around. We drank a toast to regular evenings without the kids, and downed our shots. The clock was ticking.
“We should all go in the hot-tub,” Abby finally announced, “It’s such a beautiful night. And so quiet for once.” My wife was a huge fan of the hot-tub. We went in all the time, and she often invited her friends over for a dip. I had been counting on that.
Krista was ready with her prepared response. “That sounds nice, my legs are aching. I think I overdid it in the gym.”
Rich, as usual, was eager to find fault with his beautiful wife. “I bought you those personal training sessions. If you’d just call and make the appointments, you wouldn’t have to worry about working out wrong, and maybe you could get in shape.”
I don’t know what kind of shape he was thinking of; as far as I was concerned she was bordering on perfection.
“I’m going to turn the spa on. We’ll be going in sooner or later.” I told them, excusing myself to turn on the spa and set the temperature. I also turned on the lights inside the pool, and turned off the lights inside the hot-tub, making it just a little more private once we were in.
Krista and Abby wandered inside as I returned to the table, working on my Opus X. I’d given Rich a decent enough Partagas Corona, not wanting to waste one of my few real good cigars on a guy who couldn’t tell a Cohiba from a Camel.
“Krista won’t want to go in. She’d die before she’d be caught in a hot-tub. She never goes in at home. Hell, she hardly goes in the pool at all. I’ll be damned if I know why I built the damn thing,” Rich lamented.
“Abby’s the opposite. She probably soaks in the hot-tub at least 5 times a week. And you’ve heard her say it, her birthday suit is her favorite outfit. She wears it for swimming and house-cleaning. I kept having to remind her to shut the shades until I finally had to put up the solar screens on the front of the house just for privacy.” I laughed.
“Damn. I wish. Krista’s never naked,” Rich said, regretfully. “She won’t even let me in the bathroom when she’s in there. I probably haven’t seen her completely nude 5 times in the last year.”
I almost wanted to say I’d seen her naked that many times in the last week. But the timing wasn’t quite right, yet.
“Well, she might surprise you.” I told him, offering him another shot, this one only half-strength and undoctored. I didn’t want them to get too drunk; not a good combination with the G.
The girls surprised both of us. They walked out of the house wearing robes, and carrying a stack of towels, and then insisted we turn our backs to them. As soon as we were facing away from the spa, they both climbed in and invited us to join them.
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” Rich said.
“Neither do we.” Abby laughed. “Come on, we won’t peak. Much.” Krista giggled along with her. “And bring our drinks.”
I took my time, transferring the drinks to the area around the hot-tub, and turning off the light over the patio. I brought the outdoor cordless phone over, and I even brought over the Butane lighter in case my cigar went out. Only then did I step to the side of the hot-tub. Rich was already in, and from the soggy state of his underwear, I guessed he’d worn them into the water, and only removed them afterward. I, on the other hand, cheeky bastard that I am, casually undressed, taking off my boxers just before I stepped over the ledge into the spa. Right in front of the controller, and right between the two naked ladies.
“Alex!” Krista exclaimed in false shock.
“What? Everyone else is naked, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, but you could have given us a chance to look away!” She blurted.
“Oh, I don’t mind.” I teased, easing back into the water.
It’s worth noting that my spa is raised about 18 inches over the level of the pool. It makes it easier to get in and out of, and leaves a nice water feature as the water spills over the ledge of the spa into the pool, when the filter is on. It also makes the interior very dark. The yard has a good bit of lighting, from inside the pool, and from the landscape lighting, but all of it at or near ground level, and on a moonless night, it can be pitch black inside the spa, while the whole area around you is lit up.
The girls broke back into conversation about the goings-on up at the school, as I asked Rich how things were going with this new real estate gig. During a lull in the conversation I asked if I should turn on the bubbles.
Abby started pointing out where all the jets were, as if we couldn’t tell, with the hot water jetting out of them, and as we adjusted in the water, I reached over to the controller, and accidentally turned on the underwater light instead, giving everyone a quick view of all the nakedness in the water, before turning on the bubble jets and turning off the light again.
“Alex! I can’t believe you!” Abby chastened me.
“It was an accident, really. You know I always sit in that corner over there. I’m not so good working the controller left-handed.” And if you believe that, I’ve got some nice Kansas ocean front land for you.
Krista and I had a goal. Get our spouses worked up. Under cover of the darkness, we were to reach underwater and see what we could do to get them feeling good and randy. We were five minutes into that plan, and the conversation had taken a decidedly quieter and more teasing turn, when stage two kicked in.
The phone rang. I picked it up, looking at the caller ID, and answered it. “Hello?”
“Ok, just a minute.” I passed the phone to Krista, while my other hand stroked the inside of my wife’s thigh. “It’s for you.”
Krista took the phone, and listened to the message. “All right. You know I’m not happy about this. I’ll be right over.” She hung up the phone and passed it back to me. “Crap. Nicholas left his contact case and head-gear at home. He won’t have it for the entire weekend. I have to bring it to him.”
Rich griped, “But that’s at least 15 minutes away!”
“I know, but what can I do?” She answered.
“You’re in no shape to drive,” Abby said. “Why don’t you deliver it, Alex? You’re the only one completely sober here.”
“I don’t mind. Where is this place?” I asked.
“If you’ve never been there, you’ll never find it in the dark. I better go with you. We can drive over to our place, pick the stuff up, and be back in half-an-hour. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” Krista said.
“No. It’s alright,” I told her. “Let’s just get this over with.”
With that I climbed out of the spa, and wrapped a towel around my waist. I then held up Krista’s heavy Turkish robe, and turned my head as she settled into it.
She and I walked into the house to get ready to go. She’d done her changing in our bedroom, so we both went there. “It’s going perfect,” she said, going over to the window and peeking out the side of the blinds into the pool area. I turned to my laptop, entered the password, exposing a grainy, black and white close up of our spouses in the hot-tub.
Krista looked over my shoulder. “What’s that?”
“CCD, low-light, and infrared camera with PTZ, pan, tilt and zoom.” I adjusted the picture, switching from infrared to low-light, and getting a dark but pretty visible shot of our spouses chatting amiably, only a foot or so apart.
“They’re looking pretty chummy,” Krista noted.
I turned to her, and dropped my towel, opening her robe.
“Alex, they’re waiting for us to leave,” she cautioned me, as she slowly dropped to her knees in front of my rampant hard-on.
“They’ll expect us to take a couple of minutes to get ready, since we both need to use this room,” I told her, easing my cock between her lips, while I watched the action on the laptop.
Krista sucked nicely, while we both watched the show from the yard. A couple of times you could see Rich looking towards the house, and then we saw Abby climb half-way out of the spa, and bending over the controller, her breasts dangling nicely just a few inches away from Rich. She turned off the bubbles, and settled back into the water.
I pulled Krista off of my cock, and told her to quick throw something on. I yanked on a pair of sweats and t-shirt, set the cameras on record, and logged out. Krista pulled on her pants, no panties, and shirt, no bra. We left the house via the garage, and I shouted over the fence that we were leaving, back in half-an-hour.
We drove to Krista’s place, where we parked the truck, and went inside. Within moments I had her naked below the waist, and bent over the back of the couch.
“Feeling a little horny, Alex?” She asked, wiggling her sweet, tight butt at me.
I reached up into her sopping slit, and laughed. “I guess I’m not the only one,” I told her, and then slid my cock into her giving a relieved sigh. “Damn, I needed that.”
“Mmm, Hmmm,” She moaned her agreement, pushing back to meet my thrusts. “God, I can’t believe how drunk I’m feeling, I only had a couple of glasses of wine and that Jello shooter.” She giggled. “I’m feeling tingly all over.”
“Let’s hope they’re feeling the same,” I told her, stroking in and out of her warm, sweet, pussy.
“Do you really think anything will go on?” She asked me, accepting my thrusting eagerly.
“They’re naked, drunk and alone. I left Abby hot as a firecracker, I’m guessing you did the same?” I asked, lifting one of her legs up the length of the back of the couch, and opening her up wider.
“He was as hard as a rock, when I left that spa,” she said.
“Then I’d say everything was running in our favor.” I fucked her fast, wondering what was happening in our hot-tub at home. She moaned under me. That and the squishy slapping of our bodies together was all you could hear. I pulled out of my pretty little plaything, and laid down in the middle of her living room floor. She smiled at me, and then grabbed the phone off the wall before settling over my waist and lowering herself onto my waiting staff.
“Donna? Yeah, thanks. The call timing was perfect.” She told her partner in slavery while she rode me steadily.
“I wish you were here now,” she said into the phone. “He’s really worked up and I sure could use the help,” she giggled. “Mmm, hmm. Yep, well thanks, you don’t have to call again.” She hung up and worked a little more diligently at the task ahead of her, or inside of her, depending how you wanted to look at it.
She was beautiful, leaning over me, her shirt tousled, open at the neck. Her pretty face had such a look of fierce concentration, as if this job of riding my cock was the most important thing in the world. A series of tiny little grunts escaped her on the downstroke, as I bottomed out inside of her. She leaned over, resting on her outstretched arms, and rocking back onto my cock more insistently.
“Come in me, Alex. Make that big cock explode for me.” She whispered, doing her damndest to ensure just that.
I grabbed her hips and fucked into her wildly, driving myself closer and closer to that peak.
“That’s it, fuck me hard. Take me. Own me.” She murmured, surrendering to my need.
I granted her wish, pummeling her pussy, until the urge was just too much. “FUCK!” I cried out, pouring myself into her, over and over again.
She collapsed against me, stretched out chest to chest, her head nestled in my neck. “God, that’s so incredible. I can never get enough of that feeling, when I can feel you painting my insides, each burst from your cock creating little shocks all through my system. It’s so wild.”
Once my breath settled, I stood and put on my shorts, passing Krista her pants. “Shall we?” I asked.
“How long’s it been?” she asked as she ran into the laundry room to grab some panties before pulling her pants back on.
“Barely 10 minutes.” I told her.
“Great.” She put her hand in mine and we walked back down the street to the front of my house.
“You know the story?” I asked her.
“Sure. I called back when I couldn’t find the stuff. He had it all along. It was in the side pocket of his backpack.” She repeated.
“Perfect.” I told her, opening the front door. “Hello?” I asked softly to make sure the house was still empty. We walked to the rear wall of the family room and peaked out. It looked like they were still in the spa. We eased over to the Master bedroom, not turning on any lights, and I logged in, watching the camera output. With the keyboard, I zoomed in a bit more.
“Bingo.” I announced.
“What?” Krista asked, looking over my shoulder.
I leaned back and let her see. Rich’s hands were clearly on Abby’s chest. And it looked an awful lot like her hand was in his lap.
“Oh my God!” Krista gasped. “Somehow I didn’t believe they’d actually do anything.”
“Oh, they’re doing something all right,” I laughed as I started to undress again. I encouraged Krista to do the same. As we watched, Abby leaned way back, and Rich leaned over and placed his mouth over the nipple of her left tit.
“Jesus! That bastard!” Krista growled as she stripped back down to nothing. I pulled her face back onto my cock, which had gotten hard once more. She sucked me slowly and thoughtfully, while Rich spent a couple of minutes man-handling and suckling at Abby’s incredible tits. Then we saw her lean over and say something to him. He leaned back from her, and she leaned forward, and we could see her hands moving up and down in the water.
Krista sucked more aggressively as Abby worked on Rich. I saw he was talking to her, and she shook her head repeatedly, but then he crawled up and sat on the edge of the spa, and she followed, stroking him. His hand reached out to the side of her head, pulling, but she shook him off, a couple of times while he leaned over and talked. Then she leaned in and licked his little cock. Once, twice, and then lowered her face, pushing her lips down to his pubes, taking all four inches of him into her mouth, and slowly pulling back.
I pushed Krista off my cock, and tossed her the robe. “Now, now!” I told her, wrapping a towel around my waist, ignoring the obvious tenting for the moment.
We eased the back door open and stepped out into the yard, to see my wife’s face buried in the lap of my little slave’s naughty husband. Rich’s head was thrown back as he enjoyed his first blowjob in years. Neither one noticed us until we were almost upon them.
Rich’s head came forward and he looked up. His eyes were like saucers as he said, “Shit!” and quickly slid back into the spa. Abby was almost forcefully pushed off of him, and shuffled sideways.
“Fuck, Rich!” she whined, and then saw his look. She turned to see us stepping up to the side of the spa. She quickly slid away from Rich, and turned back to a normal position sitting in the spa.
“False alarm,” Krista announced as she took off her robe, and stepped into the spa, just ahead of me. “He had the stuff all along, it was just in a side pocket. I called the camp when I couldn’t find the stuff at home.”
“That’s great,” Rich answered anxiously, “saved you a wasted trip all the way out there.”
Krista made her way to the far side of Rich, and sat beside him. I made my way opposite her, sitting beside Abby.
“Everything Ok, while we were gone?” I asked. I looked over to see Krista reach down between Rich’s legs, doing nothing to hide the fact, and stroking his erection. She whispered in his ear, and he turned bright red.
“Sure. Everything was fine.” Abby answered quickly.
“Great,” I told her, my hand on the back of her neck, my thumb idly caressing the edge of her jaw. “I wouldn’t want anything to mess up such a nice evening.” I let my hand slide along the side of her face, and my thumb caressed her bottom lip. Then I slid it between her lips, brushing against her teeth, and she sucked on it cautiously. Her eyes looked fearful.
I leaned forward and whispered to her, “Should we leave? So you guys can finish up?”
She sniffled, and I heard her barely croak out a “no”.
“Man, he really was into your tits, though I can’t blame him,” I continued, reaching out and cupping her breasts, right at the waters edge.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said softly, her head inclined, speaking to the water.
I turned and spoke across the hot-tub. “No, really. I’d like to see you guys finish. Not behind my back, but right here in front of us. Wouldn’t you like to see that Krista?”
Krista didn’t answer.
“Come on. I know you, Rich, would love to finish up. Wouldn’t you?” I teased, my hand still squeezing Abby’s breasts. I turned her to face them, and sidled up behind her, reaching my hands around and fondling her tits, bringing them right up to the top of the water, more than half-exposed.
Rich looked worried. He looked at his wife, than at me and at Abby. “Maybe we should go,” he mumbled, standing up to get out of the spa.
His wife pushed back at him, causing him to sit down on the side of the spa. She climbed up beside him, one arm around him, one hand in his lap. She was completely exposed. “I’d like to see it,” she said in a scary, calm voice.
“See baby,” I told my wife of 14 years. “We all would love to see you finish what you started.” I urged her forward, closer to our neighbors. Krista was pulling at Rich’s legs, separating them, making room for my wife to take up position.
I whispered to her again, “Blow his mind, she’s never given him a BJ, do it.”
Abby leaned over and as she reached out to touch Rich’s member, Krista pulled her hand away. Abby stroked him slowly at first, and then finally she leaned in and took him in her mouth. She sucked his little cock tentatively at first, and then more and more aggressively. And all the while, Krista spoke to him.
“You like that? You like that strange mouth sucking your cock. Taking that whole dirty cock of yours in her nasty mouth. You’d like me to do that wouldn’t you? You want me to let you poke your dick in my mouth. That and in my butt, too, right? She takes it in her dirty little ass. I bet she’d let you fuck her there. In her filthy tight little butt-hole. Is that why you had to have her? Because I wouldn’t suck you? Because I wouldn’t let you stick that prick of yours in my butt? Is that why? She doesn’t mind though, does she. She likes it that way. She likes to have a cock in her mouth. Slut.” Krista’s monologue was spoken softly, and almost without feeling.
Like every town, Wood Grove has its good sides, and its bad sides. Rich, poor, respectable, criminal- the people of the Grove are like people everywhere, more or less. Except when it comes to the secrets they keep- the hot, dark, midnight-hidden acts they are helpless to resist.
This is one of a loosely-connected series of standalone tales set in the same town. No other parts need to be read to enjoy this episode.
A fair warning: this one gets quite a twisted. All characters in sexual situations are over 18, and all comments will be gratefully received.
Life in the Meadows was fucking tough, but Zane loved it. It was all he knew.
The tower block where he lived was the roughest in the neighborhood, and the neighborhood was the worst area of Wood Grove. It was a nightmare of trash, drugs, beatings, guns, theft and prostitution. All the best things in life.
Zane didn’t run with a gang. It should have made him vulnerable, but he had a reputation as a fixer of a kind. A problem solver. People came to him for stuff, and in exchange he got no trouble, and all the gear and women he needed. Fucking paradise.
The power structure in the Meadows was always changing, and it took a smart guy to read the wind and keep on the good side of the right people. And Zane was way smarter than most of the people round him. While the rest of his acquaintances were mixed up in the usual penny-ante shit, the gang feuds and street-level squabbling, Zane had his eye on the bigger picture. There was a new outfit in town- someone was making a move on mob-held businesses, running the Russians out of town, making peace with some of the big guys, and disappearing others. All done quietly, not disrupting everyday business. Zane wanted in.
His only problem, the only fucking pain in the ass of his existence, was his older brother. He’d lost count of the times Gram had done something stupid, and Zane had to waste favors to bail him out. His older brother was a drunk and a fuck-up, who lived with his nineteen-year-old tearaway of a daughter in a shitty apartment two floors away from Zane.
This time, Gram and one of his idiot friends had ripped off a dealer’s stash, figuring he was so low on the ladder no-one would give a shit. The stupid fat fuck had managed to piss off whoever was behind the takeover of the Meadows, and when he was caught, he’d fuck things up for all of them.
Zane had to figure out what the hell to do, but first he had to knock sense into his brother.
“Come ON, Daddy, I know you’ve scored. Share a little.”
Gram Fry grinned, sinking back into his threadbare easy chair, enjoying the buzz from whatever the fuck those pills he took were. Bags of the shit, taken from a slack-jawed kid who looked like he’d never seen a piece before it was shoved in his face. He was relaxed, sitting there in his unwashed drawstring pants, cheap hoodie, his hair unkempt, a week’s worth of scratchy stubble on his face.
He felt good. He felt like he was leaning back into warm, soft fog.
He also felt horny as fuck, but whether that was a rush from the pills or a rush from a successful job, he couldn’t really tell, or give a fuck about.
“Nah, baby,” he said, lighting up a cigarette. “Daddy can’t spare any. Got a buyer lined up.” He dropped his lighter next to the crumpled up brown bag he’d brought his burger home in. Paper napkins had fallen out onto the arm of the chair, but he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve instead of using them.
She pouted, but teasingly. There was a routine to all of this, and he knew she enjoyed it as much as he did.
Liza Fry used too much make-up, was a little skinny, had a bitch of a personality when she was pissed, had eyes that were a little too big, a mouth that was a little too wide, but still managed to make any guy who saw her hard as a fucking iron bar.
She just knew what men wanted, and when it suited her was happy to hand it over.
“Aw Daddy, we’re going to the Nine tonight. I said I’d get us something to party with.” Gram took a long drag, let out a cloud of smoke. The Braid Avenue 9 was a fucking meat-market, a dive club that went in and out of business despite being pretty popular. Gram used to hang there himself, scouting for sweet, young tail. Fuck, the women there loved to dress like whores, and his daughter was keeping up the tradition.
She wore a gold halter-neck glitter dress, short, with a black studded belt around her thin waist. It had a plunging cowl neckline, so low that it was obvious she had no bra on. Her long brunette hair was pulled right back into a tight, high ponytail, braided with plastic jewels. She had thick mascara on, dark eye-shadow, and shimmery cheap red lipstick. Her false nails were blue, and she draped one hand on her hip as she stood in front of him, balanced on her black peep-toe platform heels.
“But I need paying baby,” he said, his eyes all over her body. “And you know you and your friends can’t afford this quality shit.” He shrugged, took another drag.
She leaned over to him, smiling. He could smell her perfume, even through the cigarette haze, and it made his dick twitch.
“Want me to work it off, Daddy?” she said, slipping her hand up the crotch of his drawstring pants. He grinned.
“Maybe. If you’re extra nice.”
With her other hand, she took the cigarette from him, took a drag before stubbing it out in the coffee cup he used as an ashtray. She pressed her mouth to his, exhaling the warm smoke into him, before pressing her tongue in too. He grabbed the back of her head, pulling her forward, even as her hand pushed into his underwear and wrapped around his prick.
He growled as he pulled her onto his lap, devouring her tongue as she stroked his hard shaft. She beat at it hard, the friction driving him wild. He fumbled beneath her dress, his fingers pressing clumsily at the front of her panties. She didn’t let up with her hand, making it tough to focus. His finger crept round the elastic, and he made an animal sound as he felt the edge of her damp pie.
He tried to press forward, but his daughter shifted instead to straddle him. Kneeling over him now, she lifted her dress, pulling her panties to one side. She pressed her mound to his erect cock, and he felt the prickle of stubble where she hadn’t waxed for a while.
He gritted his teeth as she manoeuvred his glans to her pussy, running him up and down her moist cunt lips.
Fuck this tease, he thought, grabbing her skinny hips and impaling her on his dick.
She grunted like a dockside whore taking it hard in an alley. He fucking loved the noises she made, just made him want to drive in harder, deeper. She rode him expertly, her arms resting on his shoulders. She stared into her Daddy’s eyes, red lips parted as she panted, a light blush showing beneath the foundation on her cheeks. She flexed her hips, her young, tight cunt squeezing his cock, making him experience every delicious inch of her innermost flesh.
He liked it when the let him fuck her like this, sheathless. She thought the pill would make her fat, so she usually insisted on a rubber. She must really want the merchandise to risk it bareback. He figured he’d better pull out, try and avoid knocking his daughter up-
-Shit. Just the thought was enough to tip him over, and without warning, his cock exploded with semen. He grabbed her, practically screamed as his balls unloaded. He felt her squirm but held her there, pulled down on his meat, as he had the orgasm of his fucking life. It flooded out of him, spurt after spurt, like his fucking heart was driving it, pumping her womb full.
“Shit!” she screeched, pulling herself off him. The cold air hit his slick, softening phallus, as more gobs of come dripped from her, hitting his pants. She moved her hand down as she stood, keeping her panties to one side as she caught the semen that slid out of her. “What the fuck, Daddy?”
He was still dazed, grinning, staring at his dick. Fuck. What was in those pills?
“Sorry, baby,” he said, thinking the shit he was going to get from her was worth it. She shook her head, face screwed up. She grabbed some of the burger napkins, used them to wipe herself up, hands and pussy, before throwing them at him.
“Give me the fucking pills,” she hissed, red-faced.
“Sure.” He was still grinning like a moron. “In the drawer by the TV.”
She yanked the drawer, pulling the small bag he’d set aside for her out. She stormed to the front door, almost knocking Zane over as she pulled it open just as he rang the bell.
“Liza? Girl, what the-”
“Fuck off!” she yelled over her shoulder at her uncle as she walked away.
“Fuck was that all about?” said Zane, even as Gram hastily stuffed his cock away, pushing the soiled napkins down the side of the cushion. “Shit, Gram. You are just one big car crash, aren’t you. Thought you were quitting doing your own fucking blood.”
“It ain’t un-consensual-”
“That’s not the- fuck, forget it. We need to talk, and when we’re done, you need to get the fuck out of town.”
The next few months were good ones for Zane. Fuck that- they were the greatest of his life. He’d smoothed things over with the new outfit in town, and in the process of overcompensating for his idiot brother, showed his worth to Mr Lord, the Grove’s mysterious new kingpin. Without Gram to worry about, he flourished.
And though Liza was his responsibility now- and almost as much of a troublemaker as her father- finding ways to handle her was much, much more rewarding.
She made the first move, expecting him to be as easily manipulated by a sniff of her little slit as her father had been.
“I know you’re connected, Uncle Zane,” she said. “Me and my girls just wanna party.”
“Then you and your girls better find some cash, Liza honey.”
“But I’ve had no allowance since Daddy left- so maybe I could… work it off?”
He rolled his eyes.
“So that’s how it started with your Daddy, was it?”
“Oh yeah,” she grinned, then licked her lips. “I could call you Daddy too- if that’s what does it for you.”
He laughed at her.
“Forget it sweetheart, you’ll have to work a lot harder than that.”
He was still laughing as she stormed out.
With Mr Lord’s backing, Zane’s rise was swift. Within weeks, he was running the tower. Within a couple of months, he was running every block around it.
It was the easiest thing in the world to cut off his niece’s supply. No one in the Meadows was inclined to cross him, not with the organization behind him. Liza wasn’t going to be able to score anywhere local, and it drove her mad with anger.
No one asked him why, and if they had, he wouldn’t have had an answer. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted her unharmed, and it certainly wasn’t like her father gave a shit. Maybe it was because she irritated him, or because she’d thought he’d be easily manipulated. Maybe he just wanted to piss her off.
He let her keep her father’s apartment. She didn’t do much if any housework, but it wasn’t like it had ever been a model living space. He called in on her every now and then, and she was never happy to see him.
In the end, after God knew how many screaming fits, she gave in.
“What do you even want from me?” she said. Her hair was tied back, full make-up on, in skinny jeans, leopard print tank top, and red high-heeled, open-toed ankle boots. “Your guys won’t give me anything. You got rid of my Daddy. You come here, but you never tell me why.”
He sat on the sofa, opposite the chair she was slouching on. He could still see anger, but for the most part it was overwhelmed by resignation.
“Maybe I don’t know myself,” he said. He lit a cigarette, didn’t offer one to her.
“You know I ain’t seen my friends recently. They’re all scared of you.”
“I’m a scary man.” He took a drag, let it out. “These days, anyway.”
“I ain’t even got laid in a month.” It wasn’t a come-on, for once. She said it in a matter-of-fact way. And right then, that got Zane’s interest.
“Time off that’s probably done you good,” he said. “You get too dirty, it don’t wash off, and I know how dirty you are.”
“Gotta have fun,” she said. He nodded.
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me about the last time you got dirty.”
She looked up at him. His face was neutral. As she stared, he offered her a smoke. She took it, lit up.
“I was coming back from the Nine,” she said. “Tara, my girl, she got lucky, so I was on my own. Got a cab, some Indian guy driving. I was pretty wasted, but I knew where I was. I tell him to take me home, and half the way back, I realize I left my fucking purse at the club.”
Zane stubbed out his cigarette, waved at her to carry on.
“I figure things could get awkward, so I think, fuck it. I start to lift my skirt in the back of the cab. And I’m giggling, giving him the signals.” She smiled at the memory, and so did Zane. He could feel himself getting hard.
“I say to him, ‘You wanna watch me play with myself?’ and his eyes pop out of his fucking head. So I don’t wait for an answer. I slip my panties off, and he almost crashes the cab, just glancing back in the mirror. Lucky it’s quiet that late, I guess, or he’d have fucking killed us. I don’t care, I’ve got one leg on the seat, and I’m rubbing my clit. Next time I look up, his shoulders kind of bobbing, and I figure he’s got his dick out.”
Zane nodded, stiff as hell now. As Liza kept talking, he unzipped himself, easing out his penis. She watched him, but didn’t stop.
“I’m fingering myself, hard, like, two fingers inside, and I’m pretty wet. About a block away, he pulls into a side street. It’s quiet, and I guess he figures we won’t be interrupted. He gets out, opens the door, and I’ve got my legs open, ready for him.”
Zane stroked himself, thrilling in his niece’s words, her calm voice.
“He’s beating himself off, but doesn’t really climb in. I ask him if he wants to fuck me, and I’m peeling my cunt open for him. Just shakes his head, keeps jerking. No loss, his cock was pretty average.”
Zane felt pre-come leak from his head. Fuck, this was horny.
“So I say, ‘Where d’you wanna come, baby? Mouth, titties? Snatch?’ And he just kind of waves me forward. So I move over to him, and as I’m right next to him, he grabs my titty. Gets his hand into my dress, pulls it out, fucking squeezing it, hard. Then he comes, like a fucking hydrant, all over my pussy.”
Zane let himself go with a grunt, spurting all over his hand, getting the mess all down one leg. He slowed the stroke as he orgasmed, savoring the moment.
“Dirty bastard,” she said with a smile.
“Him or me?” said Zane, looking round for something to clean himself with. Liza got up and passed him some kitchen paper from the small kitchenette.
“Both of you,” she said.
“What happened then?” She shrugged.
“Kicked me out of the cab, fucking flew off. Wasn’t far to walk, though.”
Zane nodded, and sighed with pleasure as he zipped himself back up. He pulled out his cell, rang a number.
“T-Mack,” he said. “My man. Go get some of the good stuff for my niece.”
Zane visited her now and then, and sometimes she’d please him, and sometimes she didn’t. He wouldn’t touch her, but now and then she’d have a depraved tale to tell him that would hit the right notes, and he’d jerk himself off. He liked to drop in on her without warning.
He started to need her, but had no intention of taking her on her terms. He’d never found the right, satisfying way to claim her.
And then the opportunity presented itself, just like that.
“Shit,” she said, looking through her purse. “Forgot my fucking ID.”
Liza’s friends looked at each other, eyes rolling.
“We’re Donna be late,” said one of them, impatiently.
“Fuck off, then,” she replied. “Go on, I’ll catch up.”
They left her at the tower block’s entrance, and she turned back to the elevator.
Zane had decided to drop in on her, maybe pissing her off by making her miss a Saturday night out. He was late, the group of them already downstairs as he got out of the car. He saw Liza split off from them, watched the rest of the little sluts walk down the steps outside in their short skirts, titties practically hanging out.
He passed them, hood up, about to follow Liza up, when he realized how he wanted it to go.
He waited in the shadows until she came back, her red platform heels clicking on the rough concrete outside the tower block. She had a slinky, hip-hugging black short dress on, the top of her bra visible above the low cut, her hair clipped up tight, exposing her neck.
She didn’t see him as he followed her, careful to keep his steps quiet. She walked to the end of the block, heading to where she could catch a taxi. She approached the mouth of the alleyway that ran between the tower and the community center next to it.
Zane sped up, and she turned as she heard his hurried footsteps. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her, hand over her mouth, dragging her into the darkness. She struggled as he pulled her behind the dumpster there, the alley strewn with trash, a chain-link fence closing off the other side.
She couldn’t get purchase, tried to kick at him with her heels. His dick stiffened as her small body struggled. He pushed her against the cold wall of the building.
She saw his face beneath the hood, eyes wide with shock and recognition.
He grabbed her, kissed her, tasted the slickness of her lip gloss.
She slapped him, hard across his cheek. He pulled back, face stinging, and she hit him again, harder.
She yanked him towards her, and his split lip made the kiss taste like blood.
He grabbed the back of her hair as they turned, and now his back was pressed against the wall. He pulled her backwards, stared into her lust-bright eyes.
She squatted down, her quick hands unzipping him and pulling him out with a practised haste. She stroked him quickly, her breath hot on his glans in the cool night air.
Her lips closed around him and he grunted, her head bobbing as she sucked him. He felt his hand tighten on the back of her head. He looked down to see her other hand already between her legs.
“Dirty bitch,” he gasped, and she sped up.
He gripped her hair, made her slow down, before pushing his dick slowly further into her throat. He held it there, making her gag as she noisily sucked air in through her nose.
He let her go and his dick slipped out, covered in frothy saliva, as she gasped for air, her mouth surrounded in mess. He grinned.
Someone had stacked crates next to the dumpster, and Zane knocked the top one off, making the trash-can next to it clatter to the floor and roll across the alley. He pulled Liza up, grabbed her hips, hoisted her onto the crate.
The little slut wasn’t wearing panties, and as his fingers fumbled at her slit, he could feel how moist she’d become.
“Do it,” she whispered, and he did. He held her legs apart, and pressed his head to her slit. She moved her hand down, holding her lips open. He couldn’t quite find the entrance, so she steadied his prick and fed him inside.
So warm, so slick. He slid up her tunnel, feeling her flesh envelop him. He fucked her with fast, jabbing strokes, feeling her legs wrap around him.
He wanted her soiled, dirty. Corrupted, used. He heaved into her, and she moaned. His hand slid across her ass, pulling it open, a finger finding her perineum, feeling it wet with her juice, feeling his coated dick pump into her. His finger toyed with her asshole, and she yelped as he forced it in.
“I’m gonna fuck your ass,” he said, and her eyes widened again.
“N-no. No lube-”
He pulled out of her, dragging her to her feet, pulling her to the chain-link fence. She was unsteady on her feet, and almost fell over, grabbing onto the fence for support.
He opened her asscheeks and pushed his dick back into her cunt. She moaned, louder, the fence shaking and clinking with the motion.
-While there is no actual incest in the story, it is discussed, which is why this story calls Erotic Couplings home.
-Characters involved in sexual contact are at least eighteen years old.
It felt like a dream, this wet, silky warmth engulfing me. It had to be a dream. A feeling so blissfully addictive had to be the effect of an REM sleep-induced wonderland. Because otherwise, what else could it be?
Sensation after overwhelming sensation elevated me to the point of eruption, shaking me out of semi-consciousness. At first, my hazy logic dictated that my bladder has simply released in my sleeping bag. However, I was eighteen, so the thought that I had ‘wet the bed’ was quite laughable. In the next few seconds, as I drifted out of my dreamy wonderland, I realized something real and direct was at work. Slowly, it became obvious someone – someone uninvited – was in my tent.
This wasn’t an overall wetness, but an intense, moist heat moving rhythmically along my shaft. My nostrils were filled with the nonthreatening, feminine scent of Coco Chanel, which momentarily put me at ease. My eyelids rose as I awoke slowly, but doing so made no difference. My need to discover the arbiter of my bliss was prevented by the utter darkness around me.
The mystery warmth, which my mind envisioned as a mouth, continued to consume my member. My chest was heaving; I wanted to speak, but no words came out. I couldn’t manage to utter a sound or move so much as a pinky. Although somewhat aware, I still hadn’t arrived at full consciousness and the glorious sensation that held my virgin length firmly was all my confused mind could contemplate. My frozen condition had one positive aspect: it gave assurance that I wouldn’t startle the person whose teeth were dangerously near my cock.
‘Why, who, and what the fuck is happening?’ The words were stuck in my throat. My chest heaved; as I came more fully awake I was filled with a combination of not only lust, but fear.
The warm mouth surrendered its rapid efforts along my length and a silent pause followed. All I could do was absorb and observe as much as I could in the absolute darkness.
At least I could be sure it was a she; I had felt exceptionally long hair brush along my exposed abdomen. The ever present Coco Chanel scent I had noticed as I awakened was an indicator that this wasn’t the actions of one of the varsity alpha’s with whom I attended boarding school.
She lifted her body, causing my sleeping bag to open further. Her very real, soft mounds slid against me as she slowly glided upward. My mind began to contemplate who it could be and it touched upon one person- but I couldn’t place her doing this. Still, an inactive introvert such as myself did not have a long list of admirers.
I sensed rather than felt when she shed her clothing.
“John, I know you’re awake – although you are being much quieter than usual.” She took hold of my cock in her small delicate grip. “Tell me you love the way I suck your cock, baby,” she said in a soft and quivering, seductive tone.
My tongue felt heavy, and, as usual, no words came.
All it took was her speaking, and I knew who it was. Not because of her words, but because of the voice that delivered it. I had never truly spoken directly to her, but her voice was unmistakable. I also knew that I wasn’t the person she thought I was. This had been a case of “pitching a tent” in the wrong tent. The hot body that was now cuddled against my tense frame belonged to Lydia Bryant. Her voice was unmistakable, not only because we shared so many classes, but because we were both on the Adams Academy Choir together. Her voice, much like her, was a free spirit.
Laying there in the tent with more and more of my body covered by the most stunning girl in school, you’d think I’d be all smiles. Not so; I felt suffocated. I wanted everything to return to a state of normality. I’ve never done well in interpersonal situations, especially ones bound to become exponentially horrific. My analytical brain buzzed as she moved her waist to align with mine. The name “John,” kept playing out in my head.
She obviously thought I was someone else; my name is Daniel. But, who was this “John?” We had quite a few students named John in our school, but only one was in senior year with Lydia and me and there was no way…
Then it hit me like a bolt of lightning; I realized who she thought was in the tent with her. My body locked tighter than it had at any other time in my life. My lust gave way to instant nausea. My heart sped up and my chest heaved mechanically. I was scared. Her hands returned to my member and she encased it with what could only have been a condom.
She began to speak but my mind blocked it out. I couldn’t breathe; where before everything had been simply dark to my eyes, now my mind began to go pitch black too. In moments, my brain completely shut down.
I’ll back up a bit: No, my name is not John. The only thing John and I have in common is that we attend the same pretentious boarding school. My name is Daniel Miller and four years ago I was accepted into the fold of Adams’ Academy, a boarding school in Andover, Massachusetts.
Adams’ Academy stands amongst the most elite preparatory schools in America. Without a doubt it is the most successful at producing men and women of tremendous influence. The academy has educated more elder statesmen than there are states. A point of pride for Adams’ has always been the three alumni they produced that made it all the way behind the resolute desk.
I, however, am one of the few charity cases that Adams’ admits annually to add credence to the Adams’ core values of “Virtue, Sacrifice, and Duty”. Scholarship students were the butt of jokes and underhanded jabs. We were the lowest on the social spectrum, even lower than the day students. Thanks in part to my economic status, my first couple of years at Adam I was a social outcast. I was as nerdy as one can get, and I suffered from a terrible case of introversion.
I survived my first two years in Andover by permanently sequestering myself. I talked to no one. With – what I had thought of as luck – I had been graced with a single room. I had always assumed single accommodations would be prized. As it turned out though, all the millionaire alphas had perfected the art of networking early. Doubles were the rarest and most coveted rooms.
Finally, in my junior year, I was forced out of my bubble. I was placed in a double room with an international student. Brandon Cheng had transferred from the school he attended in Hong Kong to Adams. He and I quickly became not just good, but the very best of friends. Even though he had grown up on the other side of the world, we were quite similar. We had the same favorite television shows, and video games and even the same anal study habits.
The one exception to our similarities was that Brandon was light-years ahead of me socially. Before his arrival, eating in Hilliard dining hall consisted of me nibbling away alone at the far end of the large, emasculating room. In the dining hall, students at Adams divided themselves into groups, mainly the nerds and the preps. If I had come from money, a logical fit would have been my fellow nerds.
Most of the scholarship students seemed to try harder than all the other groups to fit into the Adams’ mold but instead I isolated myself before anyone could write me off. From the start, I put up a great wall around myself. I felt estranged from one and illegitimate to the other. I was a kid from a blue collar town in Pennsylvania, and I felt like an island.
That changed with my new roommate. When junior year rolled around I became a fixture at the Asian dominated table in Hilliard. Adams’ almost always reverted to ethnic and socioeconomic cliques, with the occasional spillover or random association. The academy’s miniscule Asian population was oddly cohesive; they did not splinter off into economic subsections like all the others. Thanks to Brandon, I became part of the glue in their clique.
On this occasion, as a senior at Adams’ Academy, I was part of what would be our last annual wilderness trip. For the weekend, our senior class would sleep among the great pines on the north end of the academy’s grounds.
I called this bonding excursion “May Torture,” since it occurred at the end of every May. It was supposed to link us to nature with the hope that upon our final exit and entry into positions of power, we would have enough respect for Mother Nature that we wouldn’t ravage her.
The camping trip had been planned so that the senior students would leave after Friday’s supper. By six thirty sharp we all had to meet on Canard field, no exceptions. No excuses were allowed no matter who you were.
Assistant Head Master Leyland was dressed as rugged as you’d expect from a Rhode’s scholar. Still dressed in his Scottish tweed, his grizzly eyebrows were arched upward as his left hand rubbed his chin.
He approached the activity staff and they didn’t look too pleased. By my digital watch and calculations on the size of the boy’s group, it appeared as though one person was running about ten minutes late. I really didn’t think much of who was running late at the time because it didn’t matter to me; he was just another rich boy. However, little did I know that it would set a chain of events into motion that would drastically change my senior year at Adams.
As we waited, the sporty, brand name-dressed varsity alpha males with their Ivy League crew cuts were making their typical flirtatious gestures to the girls and tossing around a football. They looked to me like peacocks flouting their colors.
Brandon and I stood with our other friends in the middle of Canard Field debating the application of Star Trek’s Prime Directive. While we waited, Brandon pulled me aside. “You should go over and speak to Alice Wade,” he said, pointing at the angelically cute, Chinese-American girl currently talking amongst her girlfriends a few meters away.
“Why?” I asked.
“Like I’ve said before, she has a crush on you. I really don’t know how it’s possible, but it is,” Brandon said with a smug, confident smirk.
“Ha ha, yes, I know you keep saying that. But how do you know for sure?” I asked. I had to admit though, my interest having been peaked.
“It’s so obvious.”
“It’s obvious. Right, I doubt that; she doesn’t like me.”
“Okay, since you’re so inept, I’ll spell it out for you. Why does she choose to sit beside you at almost every meal instead of sitting with the other girls?”
“She’s not into gossiping. And plus, we like talking about the same things.”
“Exactly. Why does she laugh at every stupid joke you make? And why is she looking over her shoulder at you every few seconds like – time it – right now? You need to wake up and make a move! Unless, of course, you don’t like her?”
Brandon was talking about cute, petite Alice. Of course I liked her. I had serious doubts, however, that she liked me.
Brandon holding up his hands in surrender and my eyes wandered beyond Alice to another group of girls, the elites. Don’t judge me; I’m a red blooded male. My eyes went straight to the jewel of the group, Lydia Bryant. She was two inches shorter than my five foot ten, with high cheek bones, green eyes, an unforgettable fluid form and ever-present, radiant skin. She stood releasing her light auburn hair from a pony tail and it cascaded down her back to land just above her tight, rounded ass cheeks.
With no good reason for them to be held up, the girl’s side was being given the thumbs up by Leyland to start their Northern trek. Brandon made sure to point out that Alice was waving at me as she left. Five minutes later, the jackass straggler that had been holding up the boy’s group finally decided to grace us with his presence. Assistant Head Master Leyland made a beeline straight for the straggler, typical Ivy League alpha, John Bryant.
John was a self-appointed disturber of the peace. Each year, by the end of the first day at Adams’, all first-years became acquainted with his hazing rituals. Brandon and I considered him the Emperor of assholes. I’m sure the majority of the Adams’ population agreed, with the exception of the school elites. I couldn’t hear what Leyland said, but Brandon came up with multiple mocking scenarios later on as we walked.
I had just been admiring John’s sister, Lydia. I think it’s clear to point out that there were obvious differences between the two Bryants. Lydia never did disturb the peace like her social animal of a brother. She displayed clear intellect and never made any enemies. I can’t know how she was in private, but to me she always came off as a positive and confident, yet humble, person.
Being attractive was something the two Bryants shared, but intelligence was not. She was going to Princeton but he’d be lucky to get into University of South Dakota. John was a year older than Lydia, and last year, we had all been relieved and glad that John and his gang were graduating. But, low and behold, John stayed at the academy due to failing his courses. The only good quality John possessed was his ability to catch a spiral while blazing down Canard field. Winning was very important at Adams’.
Lydia was another story; she had her brother beat intellectually and socially. I would watch as Lydia participated in the Adams’ debating league. My Mother taught me chess when I was eight and I eventually became a keen player. Playing chess made me observant. I noticed that Lydia would win arguments when she wanted and lose where she could have won. She was a tactician and a masterful mover of men.
It took about an hour and a half to arrive at the campsite. We were all tired beyond reason, and of course the girl’s section had beaten us, winning the better spot. We quickly set up camp before downing a few hotdogs and marshmallows.
It wasn’t long before Assistant Head Master Leyland had another tussle with young Master Bryant. Leyland had found two bottles of Lagavulin hidden away in John’s camping packs which resulted in John getting sent back to campus. Since he had already set up his tent and I was still struggling with mine, I decided just to use his. Hence, I ended up in John Bryant’s custom built tent, with all its illuminating markings. When lights out was called, I was already tucked away sleeping soundly.
I came to after my brief black out and all I could think of was that Lydia, thinking I was her brother, had sucked my cock. My brain wanted to reject the thought. I could feel the heat of her body in my sleeping bag with me, and she was straddling me. I could feel my cockhead sliding into the seductively tight wetness of her pussy. She began to slide down me, her velvet crevice slowly swallowing me.
Her face was next to mine and she ran her smooth upper lip down my cheek, and grazing against my lower lip on its short journey. My smaller head stayed firm, betraying the shocked emotions running through my larger head. I was almost fully encased in that sweet pussy when my bigger head finally decided to override the smaller one.
“Get off me, get off! I’m not your brother!” I said.
I forced her up and off of me and gave her no time to react as I ran from the tent pulling up my pants, my feet bare slapping against the morning dew on the long grass. I only made it a short distance before I released the contents of my stomach onto a nearby pine tree. A member of the activity staff moved speedily in my direction, shining a high powered flashlight in my unadjusted eyes.
“Mr. Miller?” the young male member of the staff said as he recognized me. “Daniel, man, are you all right?” He asked, now aware of my distressed position.
“I…” was all that came out
My mind contemplated spilling my guts verbally. After all, I shouldn’t have to carry someone else’s burdens. However, bent over with a condom still gripping my semi-erect cock, I decided against it.
“I was just feeling a bit queasy, but I’m okay now,” I said to the activity staffer.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Where were you before Mr. Night Watchman? I added silently in my head.
“I’ll get you some water. You’re sure you don’t need to head back to the academy? I can tell Mr. Leyland you need to, if you’d like.”
It would have been easier to say yes, but I declined. I would endure.
“Okay, stay here; I’ll be back with a bottle of water.”
As he left I saw Lydia make her exit from the tent. She turned and looked at me. I caught a glimmer of her through the moonlight at the same time she saw me. She was wiping something from her lips.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I whispered loud enough for her to hear.
Without a word she nodded, then was off like lightening. I wanted to assure her that I wouldn’t say anything. God, I didn’t want her to do something stupid to herself. She seemed shaken, but surprisingly restrained.
I tried to convince myself she had meant to be fucking another ‘John.’ It wasn’t like she had asked, ‘do you like the way I suck your cock, blood bro?’
I knew I was kidding myself though; there were no other ‘Johns’ on the trip. No, the bitch was sick, but I resolved that I would keep my promise and keep her secret. Besides, my continued rigidity was proof that not all of me was opposed to what had happened in the tent.
I received my water and a pat on the back, got some mouth wash and headed back to ground zero.
I tried to fall asleep for the longest while, but I couldn’t. What thinking animal could sleep in such an unusual circumstance? All I could do was think and wonder about how things had changed. I thought about the scenarios that could lead a brother to sleep with his sister and vice-versa. Are there any legitimate circumstances for something like that?
Then I remembered last year’s Thanksgiving where I had less than pure thoughts about my older cousin Bridget. I hadn’t seen her in a while, and let’s just say she had developed in a lot of places previously lacking. Before she left our house after Thanksgiving to return to college, she had given me an extra-long, teasingly-tight hug. Her large breasts had pressed against my chest, and it had seemed like she was aware of what her voluptuous flesh was doing to me. As I thought about it, I became more convinces that it had been purposeful.
In the heat of that moment – yes – I probably had thoughts of fucking my cousin. I never acted on them, though. Did that make me morally superior to the Bryants? Daylight came and I reasoned the best thing to do was act like last night never happened. Hopefully she would too.
After breakfast and the early bonding activities were over, I remembered that I had hidden the condom in the tent. Retrieving it, I snuck into the forest. Venturing down the path, I found the lake and tossed the used condom in.
“Daniel?” Someone called to me while I was facing the lake.
I froze for a moment, but rebounded quickly and turned to face the owner of the feminine voice. It wasn’t Lydia; Alice stood there with her tight petite body, shoulder length jet black hair, and the cutest face you’ve ever seen. She put a finger on my lips even before I said anything. “We only have a month left in the year and this has been going on for too long.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” I was confused, her words were making no sense to me.
“I guess Brandon didn’t spell it out for you. I’m guess I’m going to have to be blunt. This is hard for me; I was hoping you would do this.” She paused, took a deep breath, and looked at me with her hazel eyes. “I like you, and I need to know if you feel the same.”
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. After last night my emotions were all over the place. Did I like her? I more than enjoyed spending time with her; I looked forward to eating with her and studying alone with her. Digging through my cluttered mind, I decided I liked Alice where I had previously lusted for Lydia.
“I do like you Alice, but…”
“What, “but” could there be?” She was being more assertive than I’d ever seen her.
“This just isn’t a good time to do this,” I tried to explain.
She took my hand and pulled me to the water’s edge where we sat on the wild grass.
“The next few months are the last times we will see each other. I’m going to Columbia and you’re going all the way to Stanford, so I’m telling you I like you. It’s that simple.”
“I like you, too.”
She didn’t respond with words as she locked lips with me; her lips on mine felt right. My hand roamed nervously over her frame, getting close to her perky mounds but avoiding direct contact. In response, she unhooked her bra from under her loose, long-sleeved shirt. She took my hand and placed it under her shirt, pressing them to her firm breasts. My chilled fingers caused her to shiver in the morning air.
We rolled to the ground and she landed on top of me. Our lips met again and our tongues danced together. As my fingers traced her body mapping the undiscovered flesh I had a hard time believing that this was happening. Still, living in the moment, I knew I wanted all of her. My fingers caressed her tight little ass, squeezing the package my eyes had watched for so long.
She pulled back, jerking upwards.
“Are you alright?” I asked. I was hoping that I hadn’t messed things up.
“Yeah, it’s just that we should be heading back now.”
With that final phrase she stared at me, a question of my intent in her eyes. I knew what her eyes were asking, and I was in full agreement. I smiled and nodded at her. I now had a girlfriend and a secret for the ages. What a weekend this was turning out to be.
Alice went back to the girl’s section and I went to the boy’s. The rest of the weekend’s activities, along with the thoughts of my new girlfriend, served to block much of my internal philosophical debate on incest.
A week passed, and I didn’t have any direct interactions with Lydia Bryant until the following Thursday night. That evening, I was on the third floor of the Cullen Library, studying with Alice in a secluded room. After a couple of hours, Alice went to the washroom and left me alone; my back was facing the door when Lydia entered.
“I wanted to say thanks for not saying anything.”
I turned towards her and spoke my piece. “I’d rather act like it never happened. Like I said, your secret is safe.”
“I just wanted to say thank you Daniel.”
All the awkward glances from afar for the last week had more than I could handle and this was too really much. I just didn’t want to speak with her.
“I… er… I have to go find a book,” I said. I really just wanted a way out of the conversation.
I left the study room to walk amongst the rows of books, hoping she would just leave on her own before Alice got back. I walked around and around stack after stack of books. Two minutes later I headed back, praying enough time had passed and that she would be gone.
Alice was already in there waiting.
“Lydia Bryant was leaving here when I turned the corner. Was she looking for you?”
“No,” I lied.
“Are you sure?” She pressed.
“Why would she be?”
“Because she told me this morning that you’re partners on a presentation for your International Development class.” She could see the confusion on my face. “We can stop studying this if you need to meet with her. From that look I’m guessing you haven’t even started it yet. I know it’s just Stanford but you wouldn’t want them to pull their offer.”
“Ha ha ha, very funny and no I’m staying in this room. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can go, I don’t mind.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I have a surprise for you,” she said got up and locked the door to the study room before returning to guide me to the corner, out of the sight line of the door’s tiny window. She unbuttoned my shirt, and her smile left no doubt in my mind as to what she planning. I had run away the last time I came close to having sex. I was sure as hell that wouldn’t be the case this time.
She pulled me into her body and propped herself up on a shelf on the wall. The shelves were designed for heavy books and easily supported her petite weight. Her legs wrapped around my waist as she pulled me in for a smoldering kiss, and her fingers began unbuckling my belt.
I took the initiative then, and discovered quickly that there were no panties under the short skirt she wore. Her pussy was irresistibly hot, and her entry was locked tight. The pressure in my groin was intense. I slid myself into her already-wet folds and a moist grip encased my length, daring me to go in further. An ever, expanding warmth engulfing me with every inch forward.
Alice’s legs wrapped around me pulling me in tighter. I knocking her against the wall as I thrust frantically and she begged for more. This was a wild side to her of which I was just becoming aware.
Now I wasn’t nervous about seeking out her breasts. My still inexperienced hands charted her firm mounds and two fingers brought a moan from her as her hardened nipple found its way between them. Her hot pussy and cute kissable lips drove me wild and I was starving for more. I rocketed my hips forward like a maniac, my every inward thrust echoing through our confined space. In that moment, where we were didn’t matter to me, or even her I think.
Alice’s eye widened with stunned surprise by my burst of energy. Kissing my neck with breathless whispers seeping through her tiny mouth, her words increased the fire burning within.
“Yes, Dani… yes, fuck me, yes, harder, yes!” As she moaned, I moved with more passion. I was harder than I had ever been. I began to thrust with a singular focus deep into her tight, wet passage. She had said she wanted it harder, and I obliged. Her lips parted as little moans came forth. My hips started to take directions from her moans, and with her unbelievable flexibility, she repositioned pulling me in deeper.
“Yes, like that!” She cooed before my lips silenced hers. My tongue was hungry for her small, hot mouth. It felt like she was in my head. Her nails dug into my back.
I erupted abruptly and suddenly my legs completely lost their resilience. Once I could think again I realized I had really pushed them beyond their limits. They caved in on me, and our meshed bodies glided down to the carpeted floor. We held each other in silence for a few moments.
Then, to my delight, she lowered her head to my softened member. She stretched her tiny mouth over my girth and within a blink of an eye I was hard again. She smiled up at me and her lusty lips forming an unbreakable seal around my shaft. She took me deep into her mouth and she moved up and down with the intensity of a Hoover for a few moments, before shifting her focus from my shaft to my balls.
While I lay on the floor, re-hardened, she straddled my member. Lowering herself down, she took my head in slowly. My skull snapped back, hitting the floor as my cock nestled inside her again. Moving herself rhythmically along my shaft, her pussy made my cockhead feel like a thousand tongues were focused on it and it alone.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said. Her returning smile was radiant.
My hands moved along her soft skin to her perky mounds and still-hardened nipples. As she rode me, she smiled seductively with her perfect cute lip. She brought a finger to those perfect lips, coated in what could have only been my seed. She extended her tongue to roll her index finger on it like a lollipop and let out a moan.
In time with my urging hands, she began to pull her body down faster on my shaft. I drove upwards with rigid precision, and she grabbed my shoulders to steady herself as her body quivered with her release. It felt like she was going to rip my shoulders off as she dug her fingers into my skin. Her pussy shuddered uncontrollably around me as she collapsed on top of me.
“That was.” She said whispering in collected grasps for air while we dressed. “Great.”
Seated again at the desk, all plans to finish studying disappeared. I couldn’t stop looking at her and she knew it. Sitting next to me, her face was illuminated by sweat and an arousing smile. Her eyes tried to focus on her text but kept lifting upward forcing a smile to creep up unto her face.
I just had to feel her again, a second after the thought our lips locked. We stayed that way, until the closing bells buzzed. We were forced to vacate the study room by a stern unpleased librarian. Smiles were still plastered on our faces, even after getting caught. Alice’s hands tightly griped mine while I walked her back to Eleanor house, her dorm.
Just before she went inside, I asked her the obvious. “You are my girlfriend, right?” I asked my heart pulsing like a speeding train.”
“No.” Her tone was slightly sarcastic and her look said “Yes, of course.”
“I knew that, I was just checking to make sure we were on the same…” She cut me off by placing her soft, incorrigible lips on mine. Pulling away, she made the confidence-setting statement of the night; “You are so fucking cute.”
With that she was gone and I was literally hopping back to my dorm room. I entered the building with twenty minutes to spare before curfew. It was a record late-time for me.
“What are you grinning about?” Brandon asked me as I walked through the door.
I wasn’t going to lie to Brandon but I wasn’t prepared to tell him either. “I can’t say.” I quickly changed into my pajamas.
“Woo, what is this? You know you can tell me anything.” Brandon said. He jumped from his bed, sound defensive.
“I’m going to take a quick shower.” I said. I grabbed my towel and bathroom kit, and left the room as quick as I’d entered, not giving Brandon a time to rebut. About fifteen minutes later I attempted to creep into bed. The lights were out and I wasn’t about to turn them back on.
“It’s not going to be that easy.” Brandon said from the darkness.
I jumped a bit in my bed. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” I said, trying to buy time.
“The hell we will, Daniel.”
“Fuck” I mumbled out loud.”
“Yeah, that’s about what I think happened.” Brandon said.
I could sense that smug smile. “I can’t talk about it.”
“I knew it, the second shower after supper the cologne and then this. Dude, did she give you head a tug, or what?”
Right then dorm staff came by shining a light into the room then closing the door.
“So, which was it? I know she wouldn’t have fucked you. What was this the third date? You guys aren’t even official.”
“What? Oh well, tell me.”
“I can’t…” I said. My two loyalties were fighting each other. Then I remembered there was an even bigger secret I was keeping from Brandon; one that no one could know. Plus, Brandon was my most trusted friend. I could at least tell him about this one.
“If you tell anyone, I swear…”
“What, you don’t trust me? We’re going to Stanford together. We’ve lived together for two years! Man I’m your best friend – your best friend!” Brandon stated, full of grand theatrics.
“Fuck… yeah we did it.”
That set Brandon off. He wanted to know just about everything short of, “Did you take pictures?”
Thanks to him, it took me two hours to fall asleep that night.
That Saturday I awoke to a text waiting for me from Alice, inviting me to play tennis. I ran into the long awoken Brandon, in the dorm’s hallway wearing dark baggy pants and a dark sweater.
“Hey we’re heading into town to play paintball for free time. I know you’re down for it, so go change out of that ridiculous outfit.”
“It’s for tennis.”
“I know what it’s for; since when are you athletic outside of laser tag and paintball?”
“I’m meeting Alice at the tennis court.”
“Which one?” Brandon asked, with a mocking stance.
“Which one? What do you mean; which tennis court?”
“Look it’s supposed to be just the guys, but you can bring Alice paintballing if you’d like.” Brandon said, walking off.
I had an hour before I had to meet Alice so I headed over to Hilliard dining hall for a late breakfast. It was a ghost town, which was the norm for Saturdays. We were given passes to go in town today but most just slept in.
Getting my breakfast, I caught sight of John Bryant leaving a table angrily. As I went to the opposite end of the dining room with my food, I noticed Lydia was sitting at the table John just left. He hadn’t noticed me, but she had.
She went from tears to a pleasant looking demeanor in seconds. I sat down quite away from her, but she got up from her seat and headed toward me.
“I promise I come in peace; can I sit down?”
“I’d rather you not, sorry.”
She sat down anyways.
“I am sorry you have to deal with my problems, I am sorry I did that to you. This must be so awkward for you.”
“That doesn’t even begin to define it.”
“I just want us to resolve this and possibly be friends” said Lydia. Her pleading eyes awaited my response.
“You don’t need to do that Lydia. I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friend. You don’t need to keep tabs on me.”
“I believe you and thank you, but that’s not why I want to be friends. You’re a good person; although, a bit of a nerd.” She whispered the second part with a defense-lowering smile.
Sitting there I tried to read her. She was dressed in a relaxed outfit, with Adams’ school sweatpants and a matching long sleeve athletic shirt. She looked so average, like someone bound by normal rules, but I knew differently.
“I’m going to speak and I just want you to listen. Okay Daniel?”
“I bet you grew up seeing your parents every day. Just nod if I’m right.”
I inhaled and nodded looking at the clock behind her as I swallowed my cereal. Even with my current knowledge about her, her eyes, her hair and her whole, striking nature captured my attention.
“I’m not trying to get your sympathy; I’m just trying to gain your understanding. I’m not saying what happened was right, because it wasn’t and I’m so sorry that what happened to you happened at all. I also regret putting you in the middle of this.”
“Growing up John and I would see our parent, once a year if we were lucky once a year. We were raised in places like this and by people we barely knew. My mom changed out nanny’s like most people change out toilet paper. Before Adams’, the longest time we stayed in one place was six months. We had no one except each other. John left for Adams’ a year before me and it was the first time in our lives we were apart. We started writing and phoning whenever we could. Unexpectedly, he came home to visit one weekend, we were all alone at home protectively cuddling like old times, except it turned into more.”
She paused and started to tear up. I knew they were most likely crocodile tears but they forced me to sympathize further.
I figured it was time for me to say something. “My cousin once made me so…” I trailed off, embarrassed.
“She made you horny, go on there’s nothing you can say to that’ll shock me.”
“Yeah,” I said. Now I was laughing with her.
I told her the hug story and how I had jacked off to my cousin for a week after that.
“You wanted to fuck her?”
I paused hesitantly. “Yes,” I said with my head slumped.
No smile appeared on her face to say “got ya.” Her face showed genuine compassion and understanding.
“I’m sorry to press…” There was an implied question in her tone.
“I would have done it if she had offered, yes.”
“So you can relate?”
“Yes, but your situation seems complicated. Mine is simply perverted.”
“We’re all a little perverted,” she said, staring into my eyes.
Looking away, I spotted the time on the clock ahead and rose immediately. “Sorry I have to go.”
“I assume you’re playing tennis. Which tennis court did you book?” Lydia asked, standing up.
I took her tray and she gave me a thankful smile.
“I’m not sure.”
“You know there are eight, right?”
“I think she meant indoor tennis, so I’ll just head over to the McAlister sports centre.” I said. We walked towards the exit together.
“The new Bryce sports centre has a tennis court too.”
“I’ll text her.” I said. I went for my phone, but there was no response in the minutes following.
Lydia and I ended up walking to the McAlister sports centre together.
“Just before you walked in I ended it with John.”
“I wondered what that was.”
“I made up a story about having to take a morning after pill, which shook him enough for him not to get too mad.”
We arrived at the Macalister Sports Centre and, low and behold, Alice was waiting outside with a smile on her face.
“Before you go, I hear we’re partners on the presentation for Franklin’s development class?”
“Yeah, I arranged that with him, but I’d understand if you want to switch.” Lydia said.
“No, I was just wondering. I guess we should meet to discuss it sometime.”
“So you’re okay with it?”
“Yes, we’re cool now.” I assured her. I began to walk away, towards Alice.
“We should do something on gender equality.” “Remember to tell her how sexy she looks in her tennis outfit.” Lydia said, as she waved at Alice.
I gave Alice a good morning kiss and told her how hot she looked in her white shirt and shirt.
Unable to resist, I found myself delicately caressing her ass.
“Sorry.” I said, pulling away.
She immediately grabbed my hand and pressed it hard against her tight cheeks.
“You’re the only one that gets to do that. Take pride in it.”
My hand slipped below her short tennis skirt, discovered that she was again wearing no underwear, and squeezed her bare uncovered ass cheek, causing a little air to leave her lips.
“I’m going to my locker.” Scanning around us quickly, she stuffed her hands in my shorts and cupped my penis briefly. My eyes widened and my body reacted to her immediately,
“And I’m the only one that gets to do that.”
Minutes later we were on the tennis court. She refused to go easy on me from the get go. Spike after spike after spike and it was soon over, my ego shattered. Not really. All I could was do was try my best and that’s what I did.
“I didn’t know you were so good.” I stated to her at the end.
“I’ve been playing all my life. Did you expect you’d play for the first time and beat me?”
“Yes, because you’re short.” I said as we walked out of the sports centre.
“You think I’m short?” she asked. She playfully punched me in the shoulder.
I laughed and pulled her in for a kiss, and she cupped my balls through my shorts. There was a tree-covered path right next to the sports centre and I pulled her unto it before I could lose my composure. Alice quickly tied back her hair with a band that had been on her wrist and soon my bare ass was rubbing against bark as her tongue ran alongside my cockhead. The pleasure of the one made up for discomfort of the other.
My hands made their way to her breasts and began to rub. We heard youthful voices approaching and quickly “wrapped things up”.
Three freshmen were passing through the tree’s, toking up. Alice, the fearless risk taker, took my hand and pulled us over to the guys.
They tried to hide their joints until we were close enough to be identified as harmless upper years.
“Hey do you mind if we get a puff?” Alice asked.
“We have an extra one.” One of them lit it and handed it to me.
I took two large puffs causing me to cough; Alice patted my back until I could breathe again.
“Dude, you good?” asked one of the lowly freshmen.
“Daniel, seriously, are you okay?” echoed Alice.
“I’m fine.” I said composing myself.
“That was pretty crazy back there.” One of the freshmen pulled me aside and showed me his phone. For a second I thought it was a picture of me and Alice. Instead it was John Bryant and some girl fucking amongst the pine trees. It wasn’t Lydia, that much was certain.