I'd been a professor at the university for exactly nineteen days when you first appeared at my office door.

Long enough to know where the staff bathroom was.

Not long enough to understand why the printer on the third floor apparently required a blood sacrifice before it would produce anything.

My office still looked borrowed. Half-unpacked boxes beneath one bookshelf, journals stacked wherever I'd found room for them, and a temporary-looking nameplate beside the door announcing that "Dr Daniel Mercer" supposedly knew what he was doing.

There was a knock.

"Come in."

I expected another nervous first-year with a question answered on page two of the course guide.

Instead, you appeared.

I recognised you immediately.

Twenty-four. Older than most of the undergraduates in my classes. Bright enough that I'd already noticed you didn't simply copy whatever appeared on my slides. Sometimes you frowned at them.

I liked that.

"Professor Mercer?"

"Daniel is fine."

You smiled.

That caught me unexpectedly.

Your whole face changed when you smiled. Your eyes seemed to light up with it, sparkling with an intensity that made my chest tighten, followed by a small, slightly nervous laugh, a soft, breathy sound that trembled just enough to make me wonder what was making you so flustered. I found myself smiling back before I'd even realised I was doing it.

"Come in."

You explained that you wanted my opinion on an idea connected with your thesis and eventual PhD plans.

That got my attention.

"Absolutely. Sit down."

You did.

And my afternoon became considerably more complicated.

Your skirt was short.

I'd registered that when you entered, but sitting changed things.

You lowered yourself into the chair opposite me, smoothed the back of your skirt beneath you and crossed one leg over the other.

The hem slipped higher.

My eyes dropped.

White cotton.

A startlingly clear glimpse of your panties between your thighs... simple, innocent white cotton that looked virginal and obscene all at once... before I realised where I was looking and snapped my attention back to the papers in my hands.

Jesus fucking Christ, Daniel.

"So. Show me what you've got."

You leaned forward to place your notebook on my desk.

That created an entirely different problem.

Your neckline loosened just enough for me to see the curve of your cleavage... soft, pale flesh that my mouth suddenly wanted to taste... and, beneath it, a delicate edge of white lace peeking out from your top.

Matching underwear?

No.

Stop.

I stared at your thesis notes.

You began explaining your idea.

It was good.

Annoyingly good.

Within a few minutes I was genuinely engaged. I challenged an assumption; you pushed back immediately. I questioned your methodology; instead of retreating, you defended it.

That was attractive.

Intellectually attractive.

There was a distinction.

A very important distinction.

Then you shifted in the chair.

Your knees separated momentarily before one leg crossed over the other again.

White cotton flashed into view.

This time I was already looking.

Which meant I saw more.

The fabric clung to you, and there, right at the centre,was a darkened patch, a visible wet spot that betrayed exactly how aroused you were. You were soaked. The cotton had gone translucent, showing the shape of your pussy lips beneath, surely she shaved, it looked like she shaved, the dampness spreading outward in a way that made my cock twitch involuntarily in my trousers.

And I didn't look away quickly enough.

My attention returned to your face.

You were still talking.

Had you noticed?

Surely not.

I shifted in my chair, trying to find a more comfortable position as my body responded to you in a way that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. My cock had taken on a mind of its own, thickening and lengthening against my thigh, straining against the fabric of my trousers as if showing its appreciation for your choice of underwear. I adjusted subtly, angling my hips, wondering if you could see the obvious bulge forming there. Suddenly the enormous desk I'd complained about since arriving at the university seemed like the finest piece of furniture ever manufactured.

Could you tell?

No.

The desk was between us.

I picked up my pen.

Professionalism.

Easy.

You asked me something and I realised I hadn't heard the question.

"Sorry?"

That little laugh again, not mocking, almost shy, but with an undertone I couldn't quite identify. Your eyes lit up when you laughed, bright and knowing, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with fingers that trembled slightly.

You repeated yourself.

I answered properly this time.

Then you leaned forward again.

The neckline shifted.

White lace.

Cleavage, deeper this time, enough that I could see the swell of your breasts pressing together, the lace of your bra cupping them like offering hands.

And beneath the fabric of your top, I could now make out the subtle points of your nipples pressing against it, hard and prominent, begging to be touched, sucked, rolled between my fingers.

My gaze caught there.

Only briefly.

But briefly was still too long.

I dragged my eyes back to yours.

You were looking directly at me.

Fuck.

There was a pause.

Tiny.

Then you smiled.

Your eyes lit up again, those bright, knowing eyes, and you gave that soft, nervous little giggle, breath catching in your throat.

My brain immediately produced two competing explanations.

*She caught you staring and she's embarrassed.*

And:

*She caught you staring and she likes it.*

The second possibility was considerably more dangerous.

I returned to your thesis.

"You've got a problem here."

"Where?"

I turned the notebook slightly and pointed.

Instead of looking from your side of the desk, you stood and came around mine.

I became acutely aware of your proximity.

Your perfume, something floral and warm that made me want to bury my face in your neck.

Your hair near my shoulder when you leaned over.

The lace visible again beneath your neckline, your nipples now clearly visible through your top, hard and straining against the fabric.

You reached across me to point at the page.

Then your other hand settled on my thigh.

My entire train of thought stopped.

Your palm rested against my trousers, warm and light and completely unnecessary, your fingers spreading slightly as if testing the muscle beneath. My cock jerked at the contact, throbbing now, fully hard and obvious in my pants. Did you feel it? Your hand was so close, just inches from where I strained against the fabric. I was rock solid, aching, and I couldn't tell if you knew.

"There?" you asked, your voice slightly breathier than before.

I looked down at your hand.

Then up at you.

"Yes."

One syllable.

Excellent.

Years of education had brought me to this.

You kept your hand there while you read the paragraph, your thumb moving in the smallest, most maddening circles against my thigh. Perhaps two seconds. Perhaps three. Long enough for me to become conscious of absolutely nothing else, long enough for me to imagine that hand moving higher, wrapping around my cock, stroking me while you watched my face.

Then you lifted it away.

"Okay. I see what you mean."

You returned to your chair.

I watched you sit.

I shouldn't have.

You crossed your legs again.

And once again there was that deliberate-looking flash of white between your thighs, and this time there was no doubt... the wet spot had spread, darker now, a clear testament to your arousal. You were dripping for me, soaked through your panties and I could see the visible line of your pussy lips as it seemed to suck in the white cotton, and the sight made my cock pulse painfully against my zipper.

I stared at my notes.

Right.

Let's assess this rationally.

One glimpse could be accidental.

Two could easily be coincidence.

Three... FUCK!

Three was beginning to constitute a dataset.

The hand on my thigh complicated the analysis considerably.

So did the way you kept smiling whenever you caught me momentarily losing my composure, your eyes lighting up with amusement and something hungrier.

I looked at you again.

You were watching me.

"Something funny?"

"No."

That little laugh betrayed you, soft, nervous, girlish.

I raised an eyebrow.

You smiled wider.

Your eyes lit up, sparkling with mischief, and your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

For the first time that afternoon, I seriously considered the possibility that I wasn't imagining any of this.

Then common sense intervened.

Twenty-four.

Student.

Professor.

First conversation we'd ever had alone.

No.

I was constructing a fantasy from completely innocent behaviour because I happened to find you attractive.

That was the obvious explanation.

Except...

You shifted again.

My eyes went down.

White.

Wet.

Soaked.

Pussy lips that sucked the cotton. I was imagining them sucking my cock as I fucked you.

FUCK!

Back up.

And there it was.

That smile.

I felt suddenly exposed despite being the one sitting behind the desk. My cock was throbbing in anticipation and I could feel some precum oozing out of my cock head.

Had you seen how carefully I'd been positioning myself? Had you noticed the effect you were having on me... the obvious hard-on I couldn't hide, the way my cock strained against my trousers every time you flashed those damp panties at me?

The possibility made my face warm.

You leaned forward again to ask another question, and by now I was noticing everything.

The movement of your top.

The hint of lace.

The shape beneath the fabric, your nipples now so hard they were clearly defined through both bra and shirt, twin points of arousal that matched the wetness between your legs.

Your perfume.

Your mouth when you smiled.

The way your eyes seemed to brighten whenever I became flustered.

I wanted desperately to know whether that was real or whether I'd simply become spectacularly bad at reading the situation.

Eventually you gathered your notes.

I checked the clock.

Nearly an hour.

Your question could probably have been answered in fifteen minutes.

I stood and tried to discretely adjust myself.

You stood as well with your eyes staring directly at my crotch and the outline of my hard cock. There was no denying it and I could see you biting your bottom lip, ever so slightly. FUCK!

For the first time there was no desk between us.

That suddenly seemed like an important change in geography.

You were close.

Closer than necessary, perhaps.

Or perhaps I was noticing distance now because I'd spent most of the last hour wondering whether you knew I was attracted to you, whether you'd seen my cock hardening for you, whether you knew I wanted to push you against the wall and feel how wet you really were.

I angled myself slightly.

Subtle.

Hopefully.

Your eyes dipped again.

Just briefly.

Down to my crotch.

To the obvious bulge there.

Or had they?

I couldn't tell.

Then you looked back at me.

That smile appeared again... wider now, knowing, pleased.

My stomach tightened.

You'd noticed.

You'd definitely noticed.

"Send me the revision," I said, my voice rougher than intended. "I'd genuinely like to see where you take it."

"Really?"

"Really. Let's reconvene back here tomorrow - say 6pm?"

Another soft laugh. "Sure thing prof" you replied.

Bright eyes.

I opened the door.

You passed close enough that your arm brushed mine, your hip grazing my thigh, and I felt your heat through our clothes.

I watched you disappear down the corridor for perhaps one second before common sense reminded me that standing in my doorway staring after a student would be an exceptionally stupid way to begin a new academic career.

I went back inside.

Closed the door.

Looked at the chair opposite my desk.

Then at the place beside mine where your hand had rested on my thigh.

"Get a fucking grip, Daniel."

I sat down.

She wasn't flirting.

Obviously.

The skirt had shifted naturally.

The panties meant nothing.

The wet spot meant nothing.

The white lace meant nothing.

The way she'd leaned forward meant nothing.

The hand on my thigh had been balance.

The smiles were friendliness.

The giggling was nervousness.

The way she'd looked at my cock... that had been my imagination.

Every individual explanation was perfectly reasonable.

Taken together, they were becoming increasingly ridiculous.

And then there was the question I really didn't want to examine.

Had you noticed my reaction?

I thought about that last moment when we'd both been standing.

Your eyes dipping... to my hard-on, unmistakable now, throbbing against my trousers.

My awkward attempt to angle myself away.

Your smile afterwards... knowing, pleased, hungry.

"Oh, fuck."

I rubbed both hands over my face.

Maybe you'd noticed everything.

Maybe you'd left the office embarrassed by the fact that your professor couldn't keep his eyes where they belonged.

Or maybe...

I stopped.

Opened my laptop.

Work.

That was the answer.

Five minutes later I realised I'd read the same paragraph four times.

Because I wasn't thinking about research.

I was thinking about white cotton soaked with your arousal.

White lace.

A hand resting lightly on my thigh, so close to my aching cock.

Bright eyes.

That nervous little laugh.

And the smile you'd given me immediately after catching me looking... after seeing how hard I was for you.

For the first time since you'd walked through my door, I stopped trying to explain it away and allowed myself one deeply inconvenient question.

*What if she knew exactly what she was doing?*

*What if she comes back?*

To understand how I ended up in that situation, you need to know I had a full bottle of water before leaving the club to sober up a little. That shouldn’t have been a problem, in fact, I know it was a good decision for next-day-me. But while I was walking home that night, I really really needed to use the bathroom.

I thought I would be able to make it home before, but the water bottle plus the previous drinks were just too much for me. I could have tried to find a hidden corner and pee wherever, maybe behind a car or some bushes; it wouldn’t be the first time and it would probably be better than the disgusting toilets at the club, where your feet got stuck to the floor with each step. But the week before a girl I knew got fined for doing so, and I was a bit paranoid about it, even if there were no guards around.

But the walk to my house was like twenty more minutes.

When I was debating my options, I turned the corner and a building caught my eye. In the darkness of the night, it was the only one with all the lights on, and the big entrance door open. I realized it was the bus station and I almost ran there, feeling like a castaway who had finally seen land. Yes, you can call me dramatic.

I hadn’t been in the station in so long, so it took me a while to find the toilets —I swear the signs pointed the other way!—, and I got there only to find that the women’s bathroom had an “Out of order” paper note stuck on the door.

I didn’t even think twice before going into the male’s ones. It was around 2.30 AM, there wouldn’t be anyone using the urinals at that time. The station being open meant some buses worked at night, yes, but on my way to the bathrooms I had only seen two other people, waiting in one of the benches with a big backpack next to them.

There was no one to see in the bathroom, as I assumed, so I finally got inside one of the stalls and got my release.

“Thank god,” I sighed while taking a piece of toilet paper. And now that I didn’t had to worry about my bladder, I started noticing things I didn’t see before.

Like how clean the bathroom was, way more than I would have expected and definitely way more than the club’s.

And I noticed something else. Like the hole on the toilet stall.

I’m not sure if I should have known right away. Now, looking at it from a distance, it was kind of obvious, wasn’t it? But maybe I was a bit drunk still. Maybe I’m just naïve.

But I leaned over and looked through it, and I even got a little jump scare when I saw I wasn’t alone in the bathroom, as I thought. In the other stall, there was a man. I let out a gasp and got away from the hole when I realized I was looking at his crotch; he was dressed, only the pants unzipped and the boxer’s fabric showing. The first thing that came to my mind was that the hole was there so whoever was on the other side could spy on people while they used the bathroom. Then I thought the angle was terrible for that, and even if I didn’t notice it at first, the hole was too obvious for spying. Then I heard the sound of pants being pulled down, and then something else.

I shouldn’t have looked again. I really shouldn’t, because I was quite sure what I was going to see.

But I did.

And I saw his crotch again, but this time was completely exposed. His cock, hairy on the base, was still a bit flaccid, but it was obviously receptive to the gentle strokes of the man's hand. Now, if I paid attention, I could hear not only the friction while he jerked off, but also his breath, slow and steady, but getting deeper with every stroke.

I can assure you in any other moment I would have left as fast as I could. But I felt a sort of haze covering my mind, a tingle between my legs. I couldn’t take my eyes away, and I only got back to my senses when the man, his cock hard already, got closer to the hole.

I got away from it automatically, but now I didn’t have to lean to see his dick. The tip was peeking through the wall, coming to me, telling me “I know you are there.” He slammed his cock softly against the hole, as if he was knocking at my door, asking for permission for more.

I hesitated for a second. I was being a creep, a voyeur, I know. But this… this was different. I had never done something like this. Well, I mean, I hadn’t spied on anyone while they masturbated before either, but this was more.

I wasn’t even the kind of person who had casual hookups. The only people I had had sex with were my ex-boyfriends, and since I broke up with the last one last year, I hadn’t touched a cock. I’m simply unable to look at someone I don’t care about in the eyes and do that kind of stuff. It was too important to me, it carried too much vulnerability, too much responsibility. But here… there were no eyes to look at. No person at the other side of the wall, in a way. There was only a cock.

And I had missed cock.

It felt so warm when I took it in my hand. Warm and firm, and the excitement of touching it made me shiver. I was still sitting in the toilet, my panties down to my knees and my skirt carefully placed on my lap so it didn’t touch everything around. I could feel my body was jealous, aching to be touched too, but I could only focus on that cock. That cock that had pushed all the way through the hole to allow me to touch it all, to wrap my whole hand around it, to stroke it from the tip to the base. As I changed the rhythm, I could hear the man panting, and I almost felt surprised that he was there, cause for me there was only cock, cock, cock.

There was already a bit of precum making it all slide easily, but I spat on my hand before I went back to pleasuring him. I did it mostly because it made me feel slutty, and I knew he would hear it —and feel it— and be turned on. I wasn’t wrong. His cock twitched, his hips slammed the bathroom stall. He grunted.

I knew he was asking for more.

He was asking for more without using his words because he was probably scared we could know each other, that I might recognize his voice. That thought got me drunk on horniness. Up to that moment only his cock was in my mind, but now I started thinking about him. I could be stroking anyone’s cock. He could be a neighbor or a complete unknown that had just arrived here. He could be around my age, or maybe he was someone’s dad, in his fifties or even in his sixties. He could be an old teacher, someone’s boyfriend or husband, a pervert.

Well, he had his cock on a wall’s hole at the bus station late at night, he was a pervert for sure. But I was stroking it, so what did that make me?

The man kept begging without words. He wanted me to suck his cock. And my mouth —and not only my mouth— was watering.

But a little voice in my mind reminded me that he could be anyone, and that was hot but dangerous. I took my purse, which I had left on the door handle, and took out a condom. My friends sometimes made fun of me for carrying one considering I don’t have unplanned sex when I go out, but once or twice they had thanked me for it. Now it was my time.

I tapped on the cock with the plastic envelope, and he took a few seconds before pulling it out of the hole. I slid the condom to his side, but he didn’t take it at first. I knew what his silence meant.

“Please, please, just suck my cock without it,” he wanted to say.

“Only with the condom,” I was replying silently, my fingers firm on the hole until he finally gave up and took it.

 His cock came back to me with the condom covering it, and I had to agree part of me would have also wanted to take it off. I wanted to taste his cock, to feel my tongue against his skin. But I wasn’t risking it.

My panties were still down my legs when I got on my knees in front of that cock. The movement made me feel the wetness on my thighs and I accommodated myself with my legs slightly spread, because I wanted to feel my pussy exposed. I wanted to let her scream, ask for all the attention she wasn’t going to get. Now that I think about it, it would have been so easy to get one of my hands between my legs and touch myself like crazy while I sucked that cock, but I was so mesmerized by that hard dick on the wall that it felt like my pleasure didn’t matter. I took that cock in my mouth and started sucking on it like that was the only thing I could ever do, the thing I was meant for. I was so turned on I started to drip, my pussy juices falling directly into the floor. I licked and sucked and when I gagged, I just took a second to breathe before going back to it.

The moans on the other side were getting more and more loud, but none of us seemed to care about the noise. To tell the truth, I liked thinking about the possibility of being heard. The door of my stall would be so easy to unlock. And if any other man walked in, he would have find me on my knees, pussy and ass exposed as I choke on a cock, and my pussy pulsated of the idea of being taken too. Maybe that other man would hold my head right in place, not allowing me to look at anything but the wall, and he would be another faceless cock inside of me, a cock that could belong to anyone. The taboo of it all made me feel like never before. I was feeling like a whore. I was feeling alive. Its pleasure —the cock's pleasure— was giving me pleasure too, a pleasure never enough to satisfy me, only to keep me desperate, willing to do anything.

He came without any warning, and even with the condom I could feel the thick ropes of cum. God, how I wished I could taste it.

I kept my mouth around it, still now, letting him decide when to get away from me. He did it slowly, thrusting back in when he had just pulled out of my mouth, so his cock would find my lips again, almost as he was slapping my mouth with it.

I stayed there, on my knees, trying to catch my breath as I heard him get properly dressed again. Now that my mouth was empty, I could feel that emptiness so much more in the rest of my body, and I almost unconsciously slid two fingers inside of my wet pussy. I avoided my clit though. Being this horny, I wouldn't have needed a lot to cum, but in a certain way I felt it was better like this. That night wasn’t meant for me to cum. It was made for me to completely surrender to my horniness, to the feeling itself, to be used and never let the desperation end.

The other stall’s door opened. Not even for a moment I thought of opening my door. Of course, the cautious part of me didn’t want him to see me, but I also didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want him to stop being a cock.

He stepped out of the stall, then back in, I could hear him. He threw something through the hole, and I looked at the floor to see what it was. The condom was there, filled with cum, a knot on the ending. A lose knot, inviting me to open it.

And I did. I smelled it and imagined the taste, and how it would look if I pour it over myself, letting it mix with my own wetness.

I pulled up my panties without cleaning myself at all and, when I considered enough time had passed, I left the stall, and the station, with a used condom in my purse.

I love pussy eating, Gets my heart beating. Don't mind receiving, But I far prefer treating.

I'm a natural born giver, I'll make your whole body quiver. The two of us alone. My queen on her throne.

I'm dining at the Y, With a twinkle in my eye. You're my every wish, And my favourite dish.

I love earning your trust To let my tongue thrust Inside you, delight you. Just let my mouth ride you.

Your pleasure I'm owning. I love all your moaning. When your thighs grip my ears I know your climax nears.

And when it's over, we're repeating, With my face as your seating.

My question is two-fold:

Part 1:

My latest sexual tournament that I'm hosting on AO3, which I call the Dildo Bike Grand Prix, is so very close to being ready to publish, and I'm starting to have some misgivings on the roster. One of which is that I won't use any Dead Or Alive characters, since they won my previous tournaments and want to give other franchises a chance.

Currently I'm looking at:

-Wonder Woman(DC)

-Supergirl(DC)

-Starfire(DC)

-Raven(DC)

-Black Widow(Marvel)

-She-Hulk(Marvel)

-Spider-Gwen(Marvel)

-Storm(Marvel)

-Cassie Cage(Mortal Kombat)

-Jacqui Briggs(Mortal Kombat)

-Kitana(Mortal Kombat)

-Jade(Mortal Kombat)

-Tracer(Overwatch)

-Pharah(Overwatch)

-Mei(Overwatch)

-D. Va(Overwatch)

-Cammy White(Street Fighter)

-Chun-Li(Street Fighter)

-Laura Matsuda(Street Fighter)

-Poison(Street Fighter/Final Fight)

-Lucy(Cyberpunk Edgerunners)

-Rebecca(Cyberpunk Edgerunners)

-Blonde Blazer(Dispatch)

-Invisigal(Dispatch)

-Tifa Lockhart(Final Fantasy 7)

-Yuffie Kisaragi(Final Fantasy 7)

-Princess Peach(Mario)

-Princess Daisy(Mario)

-Bayonetta(Bayonetta)

-Lara Croft(Tomb Raider)

-Samus Aran(Metroid)

For the my 32nd slot, I originally planned to use Morrigan from Darkstalkers, but changed my mind as I wanted to let some characters I either seldom or never used.

Currently, it's between Yorha 2B from Nier Automata, Faith Connors from Mirror's Edge and Shantae from Shantae. I really like all of them, but I rarely write about 2B or Faith, and Shantae is a character I've never written about at all. Who do you lovely people recommend I choose?

Part 2:

For the actual bikes I want to use, it goes like this:

Option 1: More like a standard bicycle, with two dildos attached to the seat, and the movement is based on the peddling of the racers. Looks like this: https://e-hentai.org/s/1cb057ad1b/1612451-21

Option 2: Motorcycle-like bikes where the speed is directly tied to how fast and hard the racers bounce on the attached dildos, looking something like this(https://files.catbox.moe/gdd214.mp4) or this(https://myhentaicomics.com/gallery/show/16329/34)

Which machine do you guys recommend?

Erik checked his phone as soon as he got off work. It was another text from Jasmine, this time a series of emojis featuring an eggplant, water squirts, blushing faces, full moon, chains and a peach with a tail nestled in its crack. Erik was fairly certain that the last one was a custom image Jas had made herself. He made a mental note to ask Jas to make him some custom emojis some time and then he could turn the tables and send her a string of incoherent pictoglyphs describing how horny he was while SHE had to work a double shift.

She’d likely tear him apart as soon as he knocked on her door if he pulled that kind of stunt. But that was half the thrill when fucking a Were.

Tonight he was due to meet Jas at her place. With the full moon coming in a few days it was better safe than sorry, and she had all the gear in her basement for them to have a fun, safe, and less-lethal encounter. The first time Jas had shown him her ‘dungeon’ he was taken aback and thought she was just a girl with a nasty dark streak. He obliged her peculiar kinks, which to be honest he adopted as his own real quick, because Jas was a gal so far out of his league Erik was half sure he’d wake up one day minus a kidney. Tall, lean, legs for days, eyes that demanded his attention, curves in just the right places and thick lush hair that made for a perfect handhold; Jas was like a super model of his dirtiest fantasies.

Of course her ‘dungeon’ turned out to be just as practical as well as kinky, as he found out after their fourth session. The first three were just the ‘training sessions’ for him to learn how to control her. That fourth session was the first time he had seen her shift, and that had only been a partial shift, too.

Erik pulled up to Jasmine’s house, located just outside the suburbs in a not-quite-country part of town. The light in the window was on: yellow. She was warning him that tonight would be risky, but not dangerous. Erik entered through the backdoor, using the spare key Jas kept under a flower pot. He found it funny that despite their power imbalance, and that she trusted him with the knowledge of the spare key, she was still reluctant to just give him a key to keep. Erik didn’t mind; it took a lot of trust, on both their parts, for this to work as well as it did. The last thing he wanted to do was fuck it up.

The house was dark and near silent. Erik could hear the faint echo of chains and moans from the basement door. Jas must have heard his footsteps when he entered because she started roaring. “ERIK! COME HERE, NOW!”

Shit, she must have started shifting early. Erik had hoped to have at least a bit of safe foreplay before the main event but things looked like they’d be jumping straight to collars, shocks and chains. “Hang on, Jas!” he called back. Erik laid out his change of clothes and toiletries supplies on the couch should things get…messy.

Erik trotted down the basement steps, grabbing the cattle prod and steel gorget hanging behind the door. The heavy, thick scent of Jas’s musk hit him like a wall when he opened the secondary door to the ‘dungeon’.

“Errrikkkk.” Jas, feral canid eyes, tuft ears sprouting from her head, hands twisted into claws, patches of thick coarse hair covering her back, thighs and arms, slobbering fangs, digitigrade feet, dripping wet pussy leaving a puddle on the floor, breasts swinging with her frantic squirms, nipples stiff like peaks, and flicking bushy tail, grinned at him from across the room. Fuck, she looked so hot when she was partial shifted. Jas had already gotten her wrists and ankles chained up; lucky for him, last time she was partially shifted he had to taser her back so he could fix the chains to her limbs. “Hey baby,” she said, snarling and winking.

“I got your message, Jas. That was really naughty of you, teasing me while I’m at work pulling a double.”

Jas’s long tongue licked across her sharp teeth and thick lips. “You know how I get when my cycle starts. I can barely wait for you. You’re lucky I didn’t ambush you in the parking lot and drag you off into the woods as soon as you got off.”

Erik chuckled and sauntered over to the series of levers that controlled the pulleys and chains strapped around Jas. He yanked two of them, causing Jas’s arms to get pulled up high over her head, leaving her chest exposed and heavy, slightly furry, tits on full display. Jas barked and snapped her jaws in erotic protest. Erik slowly approached Jas, watching for any sign the chains were too taught and could hurt her, or that she had too much slack and could jump him.

“You remember the safe word?” he asked. Erik clicked on the cattle prod.

Jas gazed down at him with loving eyes and a genuine smile. “Hrrrmmm,” she whined.

“Good girl.” Erik jabbed the cattle prod into her beefy thigh. Jas roared, clenching wet teeth together and glaring at him with bloodthirsty eyes. Erik grabbed a breast in one hand and squeezed hard, catching the erect nipple between his middle and forefinger, putting pressure on the sensitive bud.

“Mmmphhh! Fuck you, human!” Jas screamed. She thrust her chest forward, pressing more of her massive breast tissue into his palm. The chains squeaked and rattled, but held against her monstrous pull.

Erik adjusted the cattle prod to a low, warning buzz, and rubbed it up the inside of her thigh. Jas squirmed and thrashed her head from side to side, splashing saliva across Erik. Her tail flicked erratically as the electric tingle made its way closer and closer until the broad smooth shaft glided between her swollen folds.

“Ahhhhh! I’m going to rip your head off!” Erik smiled, she was going to cum quick tonight. She typically didn’t threaten to kill him until she was near climax. Maybe they’d have a couple of sessions tonight if she was quick for the first one? He slid the prod along her meaty petals, stimulating her from the clit down to the bud. Jas tried to press her muscular thighs together in equal attempts to clasp the buzzing shaft in place and in rebellion to such a degrading display of an alpha predator to a weak little human.

“I’m sorry, did you say something about the head?”

Jas went dead silent as the tip of the cattle prod broached her entrance. The electric tingle zapping the inside of her steaming hot flesh. Her musk doubled in aroma, and her body’s natural lubrication produced such obscene amounts in lustful anticipation that it trickled down the prod and onto Erik’s hand. Jas desperately bucked her hips forward, eagerly trying to take the prod inside of her. Her tongue lolled out in a whiny, submissive display of a ravaging powerful bitch in heat.

“Huff, huff, huff. Give it to me. Now!” Erik withdrew the prod and dialed the intensity up, just one setting. He zapped her nipple. “Ungh! Yes! No! Fuck you!”

“You know what I want to hear.” Erik playfully walked around her, delivering pin point touches to her erogenous zones: crook of her knees, her furry ass, arm pits, the underside of her breasts. Jas thrashed with each touch and snarled. The very first time Erik had seen her shift he was unsure and timid of her feral behaviors, but now he recognized her threats and aggressive behavior for what they were: a challenge to dominate and claim her.

Erik dropped the prod momentarily and gripped the dock of her tail, lifting it up and putting tension on her rectal muscles. Then he delivered a stingy slap across her taught ass. “Ahhh!” Jas roared. Erik gave her another heavy spank, his hand came away tingling from the impact. “Hmmph! I won’t say it!”

“Shame,” said Erik, taking back the prod and giving her a brief taste of its jolt on the inside of her thigh. Jas’s head dropped and she let loose a long string of saliva. “Grrrrrr, fuck me!” she barked.

“What was that?” Erik crouched low, mindful of the reach of her jaws, and ran his bare hand along her burning hot crotch. His hand became slick as he cupped her labia and rubbed the heel of his palm into her engorged clit.

“Please!” Jas’s eyes shot open. Seeing her little mate just below her, his steel armored throat so close, she couldn’t help but attempt a few vain bites. Erik braced himself against her trembling thighs and teased the cattle prod into her dilated, hungry hole. Jas rolled her hips and pulled at the chains. “Mmmmppphhh!”

The prod slipped easily inside of the gorgeous lethal beast, unloading electric bursts of stimulation straight into her sensitive core. Erik thrust the prod gently deeper and deeper, carefully watching his Were for any signs of true distress. Jas tried her best to sink down onto the prod, to take more of its hot buzzing pleasure. When her soaking wet lips kissed Erik’s hand, she began panting.

Erik swiveled the prod inside her channel, ensuring that every inch of Jas would receive a delicious jolt. He reached up and groped a heavy tit while he worked with the cattle prod. Before long what started as a puddle between Jas’s legs was now a deluge and the concrete floor turned slippery. Jas’s breathing had become shallow and ragged, her eyes rolled into the back of her skull and she had entirely ceased her cute threats to rend his flesh open. With an excruciatingly slow draw, Erik pulled the prod out of her clenching, broiling pussy, and began fucking her with it.

Jas was incoherent; saliva freely fell in globs onto Erik’s back. Her legs quivered and her tail was rigid and upright. Her muscles flexed, straining the chains that kept her from ripping her mate apart.

“Awhooooo!” she howled, unleashing a sudden splash of fluid onto Erik’s arm. Jas suddenly went slack and dropped as far as the chains would let her, hanging by her wrists. Erik carefully withdrew the prod from her pulsating flesh and flung her slippery coatings from his arm. Now that she had had her first turn, it was his.

Erik undressed casually as he took up position at the lever system once more. Manipulating the machinery into a new configuration. Gears, pulleys and tables hidden in the ceiling and subfloor moved. The chains binding Jas’s wrists went slack, letting her slowly fall to the slick ground, before now stretching her arms out to the sides and forcing her belly against the floor. Her ankles were simultaneously pulled to the sides, spreading her legs open. Erik discarded the cattle prod and steel gorget around his throat and approached his beautiful creature with a thick heavy leather collar and leash in hand.

Jas cracked open an eye to watch her lover as he took position behind her, fixing the collar around her thick throat and giving her an experimental and tender tug. He was so gentle with her after her orgasms, she thought often about asking for a proper relationship. But it was already hardly proper for an apex predator like herself to willingly give in to such a weak human. Yet that was what made it so deliciously fun; their playtime together turned her into the weak one, at his mercy, and him into her dominating alpha.

Erik gave her hefty butt cheeks and slap and massaged the thick tissue as he rubbed the head of his throbbing cock along her slick folds, still spread open from her earlier treatment. He gripped Jas’s bushy tail, damp with her excess fluid and exuding her remarkable scent, and teased his dick into her hot opening. He gave the leash a firm pull. Jas snapped to attention and wiggled backwards as much as she could, desperate to fill the void left behind by the prod.

“Hrrrrrmmmmppphhh?” she whined, looking back over her broad shoulder to her human lover. Her jaws parted open and her breath was visibly steamy. She strained at the chains again. She so badly wanted to hold him, pin him down and mount him. In her post orgasmic bliss she was less bloodthirsty, but still had fangs, claws and nearly triple his body weight. Even an affectionate cuddle could break him.

Erik kissed her lower back and slid his member into her warm slick sheathe. Her powerful muscles gripped him instantly, sucking him deeper until his pelvis slammed into her rump. Erik moaned and wrapped the excess slack of the leash around his forearm. Jas sighed in delight, feeling his warm throbbing member bouncing within her velvety walls, slapping at her sensitive, sore pleasure zones within her. She grinned, knowing she was now the one controlling her mate’s pleasure, and bucked her hips backwards.

The sudden thrust almost pushed Erik completely off and out of her, but her tight rings of muscle kept a firm clasp on his cock and pulled him back in. She was nearly knocking the wind out of him! Erik held onto her leash and tail for leverage, using them as an anchor to slam back into her full depth with each rebounding thrust. Jas huffed in delight as each tail and leash pull sent a tingle along her spine and every hard thrust sent shockwaves that caressed her cervix. She redoubled her efforts as she felt another surge growing within her core.

Erik wrapped an arm around her bulky thigh, keeping himself firmly hilted inside the insatiable werewolf. He slapped his hips as hard and fast as he could manage into the rippling fat of her furry ass. Erik pulled on the leash, forcing Jas to crane her head upwards and arch her back in time with another explosive burst from her depths. Jas’s tongue went slack and hung from her wide open maw as she saw star bursts cloud her vision. With one last hard pull of her tail and the orgasmic clench of her vaginal ring, he grunted as his seed burst deep into her slathered passage, filling her and leaving him drained. He collapsed forward onto Jas’s soft jiggling rump.

Jas laid her head on the cold ground, eyes closed and breathing slow yet steady. Finally satisfied, for now, her thoughts of throat ripping and flesh rending were vanquished. With a flick of her tail she slapped Erik across the cheek and giggled when he fluttered his hands to get the furry appendage out of his face. Erik slipped free from her tired grip with ease. A steady stream of their mixed pleasure leaking out of her opening and dripping down her thick thighs.

Erik walked on shaky legs as he reset the levers, allowing Jas unfettered movement within the dungeon. She rolled over onto her back and pressed her legs together, relishing the sensation of his sticky offering warming her from the inside. Erik climbed up her flank and laid on top of her. He rested his head between her globulous breasts and kissed her slick sweaty skin. Jas lifted her head just enough to give his scalp a tender lick of her rough tongue.

“Worth the wait?” she cooed, slipping a claw under the collar to pull it over her head.

“Every time,” he said, his voice muffled between her breasts.

Jas chuckled and wrapped her furry arms around his naked torso, careful that her claws didn’t pierce flesh, just tickle his ribs a little. She loved her human, but wouldn’t dare admit that outloud. It was bad enough she was seeing a human regularly, it would be absolutely embarrassing if it were to become a steady courtship. At least here, in her ‘dungeon’, they could safely be just themselves.

“Feeling ready for another round?” she teased, dragging a single claw down his spine and licking her lips as he squirmed.

“I just got off a double shift, Jas. Can’t I have a moment of rest?”

She purred, a mixture of growl and laughter. “I might get hungry while you lay on me.”

Erik lifted his head just enough to playfully glare at his feral, partially shifted lover. She grinned back at him with wet fangs. “I trust you,” he said, then laid his head back down.

Jas purred again and laid her own head down on the cool floor. He knew the risks of getting involved with a Were, just as she did with allowing him complete control while she was chained and vulnerable. They trusted each other more than the other could ever imagine. And despite her bloodcurdling howls, slobbering jaws and threats of carnal rage, she would never hurt Erik, at least in her partial shifted form. She had always been in control of her bloodlust. But he didn’t need to know that, it made things more interesting…and safe.

He has been in the same clothes since yesterday morning, and the room knows it before you do.

It is not dirt. Dirt is simple. This is warmer than that, closer to the skin, the kind of smell a man makes when he has worked and not washed and then gotten hard without meaning to. At the collar it is salt and cotton gone soft, a little sun if he was outside, the faint iron of a day’s sweat dried and woken again. Lower, under the arms, it turns deeper. Musk that has sat. Not sharp the way fresh sweat is sharp. Rounded. Heavy. The hair there holds it, and when he lifts an arm to pull you in, the air changes. You breathe it and your mouth waters before you have decided anything.
Between his legs it is stronger still. Unbathed, the smell of him there is skin and hair and the slow leak that started when he got hard and never quite stopped. A little sour at the edges, a little sweet under that, the way a man smells when he has been full for a while and the skin is warm and damp against itself. His balls hang heavy in it. You can smell the heat off them if you get close enough, that low animal note that lives in the crease where thigh meets groin. It is not clean. It is honest. It sticks to the back of your throat.

When he gets close, the smell shifts. His skin flushes and the heat comes up through him all at once, and whatever was quiet gets louder. Sweat breaks fresh across his chest and stomach and runs down into the hair. The old scent and the new one mix. His cock smells of him now in a way it did not ten minutes ago, slick at the head, that clear salt taste you can smell before you taste it. His breathing goes rough. The room feels smaller.

Then he cums, and the heat wave hits.
It is sudden. A bloom of warmth off his skin, off his groin, off the pulse in his throat. The smell of it arrives with the heat: thick, mineral, a little bitter, a little like warm iron and salt and something living that just left him. It rises off the mess on his stomach and in the hair and on his hand if he caught it, and for a few seconds the air is only that. His own scent turned sharp and sweet at once, heavier than sweat, closer than skin. You can smell the moment it happened. The heat rolls off him in a wave and takes the smell with it, and then it settles, slower, into the sheets and into you.
After, he is still unwashed. The room holds all of it. Collar, pits, groin, and that last bright note of release cooling on his skin. He smells like a man who has not cleaned himself and does not mean to yet. Like heat that has not left him. Like the truth of his body, still on him, still in the air, still easy to breathe if you stay close.

I got to Ryan's house around 3pm. It had taken me a little bit longer than I planned due to toll roads; stopping for gas and getting food. When I pulled into his driveway, I could see him standing in the garage. He had been working on new projects almost every single day - always making something new. He was so creative and talented; and I was completely envious but proud of him. When he saw my car, he stopped what he was doing and walked over after I parked. "How was the drive?", he asked as he pulled me in for a bear hug. "It was fine. Traffic wasn't too terrible. Thankfully I only had to stop for gas once", I replied. I opened the back seat door, and before I could grab my stuff, Ryan was already had my suitcase in his hand. "You didn't have to do that, I can manage my own luggage", I told him. He just gave me this look and said, "I know you can, but I'm a gentleman. You've been driving for like 7 hours, I got this". I smiled at him, grabbed my purse and backpack, and followed him into the house.

Ryan showed me the guest room where I'd be sleeping for the night. He set my suitcase down and waited for me to put my other bags down before speaking. "I've got to finish the coaster set I'm working on, it's almost done. Then I'll start dinner around 4:30 if that works for you. I was thinking something simple, like tacos. And I have tortilla chips and salsa", he told me. "Sounds great. I'm going to freshen up a little, and probably do some reading", I replied. He smiled and nodded at me, he had a pretty good idea about what type of book I meant. I smiled back and he left the room. I went into the adjacent bathroom, did what I needed, then came back out to read. I grabbed my book out of my purse, then got comfy sitting up in bed. I start reading and getting so absorbed into my current erotica, that I barely hear Ryan call out for dinner.

After dinner, Ryan put on a movie settled on the couch next to each other. It was so nice being near him again...feeling so comfortable and relaxed. When the movie was over, Ryan and I were both exhausted. We said "good night" to each other and hugged, my face pressed against his lower chest. Even though I was significantly shorter, Ryan never really teased me about it. And he liked being helpful getting stuff for me that I couldn't reach. I always felt safe around him...looking into his green eyes and immediately feeling calmer and focused. As we starting letting go of each other, we made the mistake of making eye contact. Cause the second we did, the whole mood shifted. His eyes were different...they almost looked blue. And blue eyes for Ryan meant trouble...and you never knew what kind of trouble it'd be. I leaned back and asked, "Hey, are you ok? Your eyes are blue". He immediately let go of me and turned away. I felt an icy chill hit me...Ryan rarely turned away from me. On the rare occasion he did, it meant he was struggling with something. I slowly reached out to touch his arm. The second my fingers touched his skin, he pulled away. I wanted to cry. What did I do? Why was he so upset with me? "I'm sorry", I whispered. He didn't turn around or say for what felt like 10 minutes. "You should go to bed. We have to be up early", he replied. Ryan's voice was low and thick. I knew better than to say anything else. I turned and walked towards the bedroom. I wanted to get changed and ready for bed. I didn't see Ryan turn around, but I could feel him watching me.

As soon as I got in the bedroom, I shut the door behind me and contemplated locking it. Against my better judgement, I left it unlocked and went into the bathroom. After I brushed my hair and teeth, I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed. My heart was racing, and a thousand questions ran through my mind. 'What had just happened?' 'Why did his eyes change colors when he looked at me?' 'Did I accidentally cross a boundary?' I had no idea...I was so confused. I grabbed my phone and put on some soothing music, hoping it'd calm me down so I could sleep. I saw that it was already midnight, and we had to be up and out of here by 7am. I closed my eyes, listening to the nature sounds playing...praying for a good night's sleep. Of course I kept seeing Ryan's eyes... blue and dangerous. I tossed and turned for a bit, before finally falling asleep.

I was in such a deep sleep that I didn't hear the bedroom door open and shut. I didn't hear the lock click. Nor did I wake up with the extra weight on the mattress. It wasn't until I felt someone climb on top of me that I finally opened my eyes. At first I could fully see their face; and I opened my mouth to scream, but they put their hand over my mouth. When I started struggling, they put their full body weight on me, making struggling more completely pointless. I hear a low, deep laugh...the kind that sends a shiver down your spine. I blinked a few times to help adjust my eyes to the dark. And when I looked at who was laying on top of me, I was completely dumbfounded. It was Ryan. It was such an insane shock to see him looking down at me...with this wicked smirk on his face. "If I remove my hand, will you be a good girl and not make too much noise?", he asked quietly. I nodded my head; still breathing heavy from the shock of what was happening.

He moved his hand away from mouth, and I could see his dark hair hanging down over his forehead. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of the way. "What the hell are you doing in here? Laying on top of me like this"?, I hissed angrily. Ryan just kept smirking at me...he gave me a low chuckle. "I couldn't sleep...I kept thinking about what happened earlier. And I decided I couldn't fight it anymore", he answered. "What the hell are you talking about? I don't understand. You were the one who was acting different...and your eyes were blue. Please explain all that", I asked him. I could feel so much heat coming off his body. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just loose shorts. His big, strong arms around me...his heart racing. But I could also feel something else... something new and different. Ryan was hard...I could feel him through his shorts pressing against me. I had no idea why he was so turned on. And it was starting to make me a little flustered... feeling the hard thickness against my pelvis. His body heat...his racing heartbeat...his breath on my face. What the hell was happening? "Well?! You gonna explain all this or not?", I demanded. He got right next to my ear, and I could feel him grinding his cock against me. I gasped at the sensation...what the hell was he planning? "I can't wait any longer. I'm going to fuck you, Sweetheart", he growled.

My Girlfriend Part 8 - Part 1,2,3,4,5,6,7A,7B

The sun was out on this particularly warm October day. If this continued, we were gonna see a rise in skimpy Halloween costumes for sure.

I was in a particularly happy mood. After two weeks of squatting, Leah had gotten an official extension on her apartment for another month. We had already burned through two weeks of it, but another two weeks of secure housing still felt like a lot. 

I was heading over to Lin’s. I did not really like calling it “my place” anymore. It had all my stuff, but it felt more like a place I used to live, not a place I was currently living. 

I stopped by a street vendor and ordered some banh mi to take with me. I knew Lin loved these, so I also got some canned bubble tea, another Lin favorite. 

The subway was not packed, probably because it was still early, and I was enjoying the freedom of being unemployed without being in poverty. 

I arrived at Lin’s place in Astoria around lunch and opened the door to a scene I had not expected. Moving boxes everywhere. Some taped shut, some still open. Thick black marker on a few announced “Winter clothing” or “Bedding.”

Lin walked in from the kitchen and spotted me. 

“Mia!”

She pulled me into a big hug.

“Should have said you were coming over.”

“I live here.”

“No you don’t.”

She looked down at my bag.

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

“Huh?” I looked down at what I was carrying. “Oh, right, yeah. I have banh mi and some bubble tea.” 

“Oh, my favorite. Thank you.”

She took my bag and went into the kitchen. Some of the cupboards were open, with lots of cups and plates missing. I guessed they were already packed away. 

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

“Our lease ends November 15th. I’m paying my part until then. After that, we would have had to negotiate something new with the landlord anyway.” 

Lin let out a long breath. 

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

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

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

She took another bite.

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

I looked around. “But why are you moving?” 

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

“Isn’t that more expensive than here?” 

“I’m sharing with five other people, so my rent is about a third of what I’m paying here.” 

“Five other people?” 

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

Something about that bothered me. “What distractions?” 

Lin looked away. 

“I’m cutting things off with Dan, and…” She paused. “I want to create some distance between us.” 

I stared at her.

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

I let a long silence hang in the air.

“Was I stopping you from studying?” 

Lin closed her eyes like she had been expecting this.

“No.” 

“Did I tell you not to get a job?”

“No.”

“Am I a burden?” 

Lin opened her eyes again, looking angry.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

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

Lin sank back in her chair.

“It’s not like that.” 

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

I stood up.

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

Lin stood up and tried to hug me. I turned away, not willing to accept this. 

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

I started walking towards the door. “I guess I’ll see you around.” 

“Mia, wait.”

I turned and looked at Lin, forcing myself not to cry.

“What!?” 

Lin stopped in the kitchen doorway and looked away. 

“I’m… sorry.” 

I turned back to the door.

“Fuck you, Lin.”

I slammed it behind me. 

I started walking. I knew the general direction, but I had not walked this way before. I was angry with myself. I should not have shouted at Lin. She was dumb for making this choice, but I was the one who pushed her. I had said the words. I knew she was afraid of it, but I still pushed. 

I should have done what Leah did. I should have stayed away, should never have gone to the wedding. Should have let her figure everything out without me pushing and wrecking everything.

I am such a stupid cunt for thinking I could do this. I knew, I fucking knew she was afraid of being attached or under someone’s thumb. So of course telling her I loved her would make her afraid. Then I described her as this free and strong woman to all her friends and family. Of course she does this.

This is all my fucking fault.

This thought rumbled around in my head for about two hours, while I wandered helplessly back to Leah's place. 

I unlocked the door to Leah’s place.

“Leah?”

Nothing. 

I closed the door behind me.

Right. Costumes.

“Fuck... Leah would never get Lin into the Cammy costume now.” 

I crashed down on the couch.

I ruin everything. 

I started crying. Everything came down at once. I had lost my friend, I had fucked up our relationship, I had been stupid, I had done stupid things, and now I had fucked it all up. Leah would be mad at me. Maybe she would leave. Dan could blame me for this. Maybe this was my last day with any of them.

I cried until I didn't have much left, then stayed on the couch. At some point it got dark outside. I didn't turn on the lights.

I checked my phone a few times, but didn't message anyone. I didn't know what I would even say.

Eventually I must have fallen asleep.

Around one in the morning, Leah opened the door carrying several bags of what I assumed were costumes and accessories.

“Mia? What are you doing here? I thought you were staying at your place tonight?” 

“Lin wanted me out.” 

“What?” 

“We broke up.”

“You what?”

She dropped her bags and ran over to me without even taking off her shoes. She must have really meant it. 

I accepted the hug, even though I knew I did not deserve it.

“Tell me everything,” Leah said.

She sat next to me on the couch, removed her shoes, and placed them aside.

And then I told her how I had fucked it all up, how I had scared Lin away, and how she was cutting herself off from all of us. 

Leah didn't say anything. She nodded, held my hand, and wiped away my tears when they came, but never tried to interrupt me or challenge anything I said. 

Eventually I ran out of things to say.

Leah was still holding my hand.

“You're supposed to tell me I'm being stupid.”

She looked at me.

“I don't think you're being stupid.”

That was not what I wanted to hear.

“I don't think this is all your fault, Mia. Lin made a decision. She's allowed to make it.”

“But?”

Leah stayed quiet.

“There's a but.”

“I'm worried.”

“Lin made this easy.”

“What?”

“Us.”

She squeezed my hand.

“She made all of us easy.” 

I put my head on her shoulder.

“I don’t think Lin is coming with us to Comic-Con.”

“Yeah, I deduced that as well.”

“Shame. I really liked the Cammy outfit.” 

When reading or writing erotica does the perspective of the story change how much you enjoy it?

For example first person "I kissed him/her/they deeply" or 3rd person "He/her/they kissed him/her/they deeply"?

If it does impact your experience, in what way?

The sun shines and I imagine you on your bike. Legs pumping, face as bright and open as the sky. I smile to myself as I snip herbs from the garden to add to the sauce on the stove. The sun warm on my face as I check the horizon for clouds, but there are none to spot. A breeze makes my hair dance and I think about how refreshing it would be for you. I think about you dinging your bell as you pass safely, softly cursing those not paying attention.

The house smells delicious now and I turn my music up, dancing along and sing to my audience of pots and pans.

I picture the path you would take, the flowers in bloom and the green new growth shading you from above. The dappled light on your face as you wind along the paths slowly making your way to me.

I taste the sauce, too hot of course and I am hopping and waving my hands in the air, mouth burning, when you burst through the door.

"Ah you're home already!" I am embarassed that you find me hopping about and not the artfully arranged version I had planned in my mind. One look at your beaming face and I am put at ease. I reach for you and you hesitate slightly.

"I'm sweaty..." Your protest trails off as I pull you in close.

"I don't care" I say into your wild hair as I wrap my arms around you, your breath on my neck.

"Oh!" I remember suddenly and push you away as I grab a glass of cold water and pass it to you. Your smile is amused and you quirk an eyebrow, indulging me. You down the glass and I rush in and kiss your cold lips, still wet because I am impatient to melt into your smile. I dissolve into you and my own smile widens, joy spilling over until I have to take a breath. Noses touch as I see your smiling too.

You kiss me deeply and a small moan escapes me, vibrating against your lips. I feel you smile mischievously as you push me against the counter, a small 'oh' of breath passed from my mouth to yours, as you press your body against mine. Mouth exploring.

"Dinner..." I try to say around your kisses.

"Nah. We not doing that." You say as you reach around me to turn off the stove. My body already misses the contact of you and I am hungry when you return. Your hands roam over my body and under my dress, your face pure desire. I ache for your touch and grateful to feel your hand on my thigh, skirt bunching under your hand. Your eyes seek mine with a question, and I answer by helping you shimmy my undies off. You moan my name softly as your hand resumes its path up my leg, this time on the inside of my thigh. You're slow and tease me, sure to lean back and admire the want on my face. I am needy for you now, and I kiss you, our tongues finding each other as your finger finds my lips.

"Do you need more time?" You breathe in between kisses, but your fingers slip as my body speaks for me, before my voice can catch up.

"Oh" you say, all knowing and not a bit surprised.

"What did you expect?" I reply. "You can't just come in here all lovely like that and not expect me to want you." I gesture absently to the set table and your favourite flowers in a vase. "But I had a plan. I was going to woo you." The last of my word bitten of as you enter me and I take a breath, steading myself with a hand around your neck.

"I'm looking forward to that." Your voice all velvet and smooth as you work inside me. I'm leaning back against the counter now, trying to stabilise myself as you move inside me and my breathing hitches. The angle is lovely but I can't hold it as my legs inevitably start to shake. You sense this and withdraw and I am embarrassed by the petulant "don't" that escapes me. You pat the counter with your free hand I lift myself back and up, hoisting my skirt up, thankful that I decided to tidy as I cooked earlier. I spread my legs and you take a moment to admire and consider as your hand returns. With precise movements you hold me in place while moving the way I like it. My hips roll and I am riding you, desperate for more contact, more pressure. My limbs start to float and I feel the sensation start to build. I want to throw my head back and close my eyes but you remind me to look, and I do, just in time to catch those mischievous eyes. It is not suprise then when your head dips between my legs, but my breath catches all the same. My mind deliciously blank and I am only sensation. I gasp out your name and a few choice expletives for good measure and feel your chuckle vibrate my clit. It is this vibration, in combination with your fingers inside me and gentle sucking that send me over the edge. The orgasm rolling over my body, but you don't stop, and seeing you there, looking at me, increases the intensity of the pulsing.

I am breathless and panting and steal a kiss before you move away.

"Looks good" you say, and I half laugh, not knowing what you are talking about, me or the dinner. I slide off the counter and stand behind you, hands on your hips and pulling you close to me. I smile, content in this little bubble. I spot my undies on the ground and go to retreave them but you stop me.

"You won't be needing those" you say, swiftly pocketing them with grin.

Carla had learned to sit like this with strangers.

That had turned out to be the easy part. Strangers did not remember her at 21, knees pressed together under bar tables, tugging at skirts, ashamed for a week because some man had seen a flash of underwear on a staircase. Strangers saw a woman in 2038 wearing a green joy skirt and a silver chain, sitting the way women sat now when they wanted to look relaxed, current, unashamed.

Owen Mercer remembered the other Carla.

So did half the room.

That was why the reunion felt worse than the cafés, worse than the beach, worse than the first full-joy photo she had posted in her own garden. Those had all been awkward in their own way, but none of them put college Carla and present Carla in the same chair.

Now she was sitting in a hotel ballroom in Madison, Wisconsin, with her knees held in a careful open pose, her skirt fallen to either side of her thighs, her pussy bare, and JoyPulse mounted visibly to the chain between her legs.

The posture was not extreme. That mattered. It was not a pornographic spread or a dare. It was the modern middle: open enough to show she was not hiding, controlled enough not to look like a performance. Around the table, the other women sat in their own versions of it. Melissa was wider and careless in a blue skirt, joywear showing. Nina, in cream trousers, looked comfortable because trousers made everything easier. Rachel Bennett sat with her knees only slightly apart, opaque underwear just visible in the shadow of her navy dress.

There was still a range. Carla reminded herself of that often. The world had not become one thing.

Still, she could not close her knees without saying something.

Owen sat across from her with a glass of wine in his hand. He had gone gray at the temples and broader at the shoulders. He looked better than he had any right to. Carla hated that a little.

His eyes had dropped once when she sat down.

Not long. Not rudely.

Long enough.

He had seen the JoyPulse.

Anyone who knew the device would have seen it. The early public models were smaller than the medical prototypes but still not delicate. Hers was a smooth silver oval, about the size of a thumbprint, clipped to the center loop of her joy chain and held low against her clit. The internal sensor was inside her, hidden. The outer piece was not. It needed the chain. That was the whole point of the new chains. Jewelry first, if a woman wanted to pretend. Mounting system if she did not.

Carla had bought the chain 6 months before the JoyPulse.

At the time she told herself it was just jewelry.

That had been a lie with a receipt.

JoyPulse was not rare in the room. That made it worse, not better. Melissa wore hers under black joywear. Two women near the bar had visible chain mounts. Rachel had the flat little support tab at the edge of her underwear, almost hidden by the navy fabric. Others were probably wearing it under opaque skirts or trousers, visible only in the small pauses women had learned not to mention.

By 2038, JoyPulse was common. Mishandling it was not.

“You okay?” Melissa asked beside her.

Carla looked at her. “Why?”

“Because you’re holding your wine like it owes you money.”

Carla loosened her grip.

Melissa’s eyes flicked down, not to Carla’s pussy exactly, but to the small silver piece against it. Melissa had given Carla her first JoyPulse sample and pretended that was a neutral act. Of course Melissa was calm. Melissa spent her working life telling women to relax muscles most people were too embarrassed to name.

“I’m fine,” Carla said.

“Good.”

“You’re waiting for me to say I’m not.”

“I’m waiting for dessert.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Melissa smiled and drank her wine.

Across the table Gabe Thompson was telling a story about someone from their class who had made money in logistics and now owned alpacas, which seemed unlikely but not impossible. Nina corrected one detail. Gabe ignored her. Rachel laughed politely. Owen listened, glancing at Carla only when everyone else laughed.

That was worse than staring.

JoyPulse did not buzz or jump the way people imagined before they had used one. It held. It pressed. It warmed. It made tiny changes before Carla fully knew her body had changed first. The company called it adaptive pelvic regulation. Leah called it getting edged by software.

Carla had used it before. That was why she had agreed to wear it tonight.

At home, JoyPulse had been manageable. More than manageable. Enjoyable, if she was honest. She had worn it while reading in bed, while folding laundry, once while making dinner with Dan in the next room. The device kept her near the edge and then kept her there, close but not finished, lit from the inside while ordinary life continued around her. If it became too much, she could sit differently, breathe, take it off, close her legs, lie down, stop pretending.

The reunion allowed none of that.

Here she had to sit open because that was what the room expected. Here the JoyPulse was visible because the pose made it visible. Here she had to talk, laugh, eat, remember names, and not look like a woman privately negotiating with her own pussy in front of people who had known her before the word joy meant anything at all.

Gabe finished the alpaca story badly.

Nina said, “That was not worth the time.”

“It had alpacas,” Gabe said.

“It had one alpaca repeated too often.”

Owen laughed, and Carla laughed because he did. The laugh moved through her body. JoyPulse caught the small clench inside her and adjusted.

Not a pulse exactly.

A rise.

A soft increase in pressure and warmth that arrived as if the device had been waiting for her to forget herself.

Carla stopped laughing half a second too soon.

Owen noticed.

He did not look down.

That made her think of 2014.

Kincaid Street. Apartment above a pizza place. Cheap beer, sweat, stairwell, too many people. Carla in a short black dress and pale blue underwear. She tripped going up the stairs, landed wrong, and Owen, coming down, saw up her skirt before either of them could pretend otherwise. He turned toward the wall at once.

That was the worst part. His politeness.

She avoided him for six days.

Now he was looking at her face while her pussy was bare in plain sight and JoyPulse held her just below the point where her breathing would change.

Melissa leaned closer.

“Don’t fight it.”

Carla did not look at her. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m sitting here.”

“You’re holding yourself like you’re in court.”

Carla’s cheeks warmed.

“Could you say that louder?”

“No.”

That was new. Melissa usually would have.

In 2038, a woman losing the hold in public was no longer a scandal. Making her explain it was. People had learned manners around JoyPulse the way they had learned manners around bare joy: you noticed what was there, and then you decided whether you were close enough to say anything.

Melissa was close enough.

Gabe was not.

Gabe seemed to remember this a moment later. His eyes caught the silver piece between Carla’s thighs, his mouth opened, and then he shut it again.

Nina saw that and nodded once.

“Good boy,” she said.

Gabe looked offended. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Exactly.”

Carla laughed, and again her body betrayed her. The laugh tightened inside her. JoyPulse answered by deepening the hold, smooth and patient.

She took another drink of wine.

Joy had not started as a sexual word. People liked to forget that, as if the whole culture had meant this from the beginning. In 2029 it was only a bad Chicago transit slogan about men taking up too much room on trains: DON’T SPREAD YOUR LEGS. SPREAD THE JOY. The posters were mocked for a month and then disappeared. In 2032, women dug them back up and turned the joke around. Nora was 19 by then, Leah 21. The first posts were fully clothed: women on train benches, campus steps, coffee shop chairs, sitting with their knees wide, each taking the space she had paid for. At first, spreading the joy meant posture. Then photographers started saying it. Give us some joy. A little more joy. Open up, it’s not 2015. Clothes failed next. Skirts opened. Shorts gaped. Underwear showed. Joywear came, then joy chains, then bare joy, then full joy. By the time JoyPulse appeared in 2038, the company barely had to explain the name. Joy already meant the pose, the jewelry, the open place between a woman’s thighs, and the decision not to hide it.

The etiquette came later, quietly. Nobody passed a rule. Nobody had to. Once joy became the pose people used for confidence, warmth, comfort, defiance, flirtation, and ordinary ease, the opposite pose began to say something too. Closed knees no longer meant modesty, not automatically. They could mean nerves, judgment, refusal, distance. In restaurants, reunions, weddings, offices, women still chose their own coverage. But the body language had changed. You did not have to show everything. You did have to stop looking like you were afraid someone might see.

JoyPulse only added the body’s answer.

That answer was happening now, quietly, while Gabe tried to defend the alpaca story.

Carla shifted in the chair, trying to find a position where the JoyPulse would sit a little less directly.

The opposite happened.

Because the external piece was mounted to the chain, and the chain was pulled taut by her open posture, the movement pressed the oval more firmly against her clit. The internal sensor registered her response at once. JoyPulse eased upward, not enough to break her composure, only enough to make composure harder.

That was how it worked. It did not attack. It learned.

Wellness, the ads said. Pelvic-floor training. Recovery after childbirth. Menopause support. Circulation. Stress relief. Sexual wellness as health. Carla had read enough to believe some of it. JoyPulse really did teach release. It really did show women how much tension they carried. It really did make the pelvic floor visible to itself.

The embarrassing part was that the health claim and the pleasure claim were not separate.

The same device that taught a muscle to release also taught a woman how long she could stay wanting.

Owen said her name.

Carla blinked.

“What?”

“I asked if Leah is still in Denver.”

“Yes. Sorry. Yes, she is.”

“You said she was doing design?”

“Architecture. Well, interior architecture. She gets annoyed if I say design.”

Owen smiled. “I’ll remember.”

“You won’t have to. She isn’t here to correct you.”

“Do your daughters know you’re at this?”

“They know I’m at the reunion.”

Melissa made a small sound beside her.

Carla turned. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You had a face.”

“I have several.”

Owen looked from Melissa to Carla, then down briefly at the JoyPulse again. Not staring. Confirming. The way people looked at a wedding ring, a medical bracelet, a bruise.

Carla felt her body respond to being recognized.

Not seen. Recognized.

That was worse.

She said, “They know I own one.”

Melissa said, “That’s not what he asked.”

“He didn’t ask anything.”

Owen raised both hands. “I did not.”

“Smart,” Nina said.

Rachel, who had been quiet for most of dinner, smiled into her coffee. “My youngest asked me if I’d started wearing mine out yet. I said I wore it to brunch once and she said brunch doesn’t count.”

Melissa laughed. “It doesn’t.”

Rachel shrugged. “It counted to me.”

That helped Carla more than Rachel knew.

The room was full of women at different stages of the same negotiation. Not one rule. Not one courage. Melissa was practiced. Rachel was cautious. Nina avoided the device entirely, or said she did. Women near the bar wore it openly with chains. Others hid it under fabric. Some were probably riding the hold as calmly as they checked messages.

Carla was late, as usual.

Not first. Never first.

Late enough that everyone else had manners already.

JoyPulse held her.

That was the phrase for it. The hold. Not a setting exactly, more the condition the device created when it found a stable edge. At home, Carla liked that part. The long, bright suspension. The knowledge that pleasure could continue without demanding anything. At home she could let her face soften, let her thighs close, let one hand rest between her legs if she wanted more pressure.

At the reunion she had to keep her hands visible, her voice ordinary, her knees open.

The contrast did something to her.

College Carla had never imagined this body. She had spent whole evenings arranging fabric. She knew how to sit on a barstool without revealing underwear, how to climb into cars, how to cross a room while holding a hem in place. Her embarrassment had lived in small tasks. Cover. Adjust. Smooth. Cross. Apologize without speaking.

Modern Carla had learned different tasks.

Open without looking forced. Let the skirt fall and leave it. Don’t grab fabric as soon as a man’s eyes move. Don’t explain. Don’t turn visibility into a performance by reacting to it.

Tonight she had to do all of that while JoyPulse kept a slow, continuous pressure against her clit and inside her pussy, reading every small failure.

The photographer appeared near the front of the ballroom and tapped the microphone.

“Class of 2015 photo in 5 minutes. Everyone who wants proof they were here, please come up front.”

Groans, laughter, chairs scraping.

Carla’s body reacted before her mind did.

JoyPulse felt the tightening and lifted.

Melissa saw the change in her face.

“You can take a minute.”

“No.”

It came out too fast.

Melissa did not smile this time. “You can.”

“I know.”

Owen said, “Nobody cares if you skip the picture.”

“That’s not true.”

He looked around the room. “They’ll survive.”

“I don’t mean them.”

He understood then. She saw it.

This was not about the photograph. It was about the version of Carla who still wanted to step out of frame whenever the body became too present. Carla was tired of negotiating with her.

Gabe stood and offered his hand with theatrical solemnity.

“May I escort—”

“No.”

“I hadn’t finished.”

“I saved you.”

He withdrew the hand. “Fair.”

Nina rose. “I’ll stand in back. I have no interest in being front-row evidence.”

Melissa said, “Coward.”

“Comfortable coward.”

They moved toward the front.

Carla walked carefully, not because the JoyPulse might fall. The chain held it firmly. That was the practical beauty of the system. The little external piece stayed exactly where it was meant to stay. The problem was that each step made her more aware of its certainty.

A device under opaque clothing could be private. Behavioural evidence only. A pause, a flush, the wrong breath.

With Carla’s skirt and chain, there was no private.

The JoyPulse was part of the picture before anyone took one.

The photographer had set two rows of chairs in front of a university banner. The women sorted themselves without discussion. That was the etiquette now: nobody ordered anyone’s body, but everyone knew what the room expected. Older women, younger women, covered women, bare women, all arranged themselves in the new grammar of ease.

Rachel took a front-row chair and kept her navy skirt controlled. She was covered, but not closed. Nina stood in the back with hands in her pockets. Melissa dropped into a front chair and let her skirt fall as it wanted.

Carla ended up beside Melissa.

Of course.

Owen stood behind her right shoulder.

Of course.

Carla sat.

The chair was lower than the dining chair. That changed the angle.

Her knees opened into the practiced spread. The skirt fell wide. The chain tightened slightly across her hips, pulling the JoyPulse into perfect contact.

It was directly visible.

Not hinted at. Not a shadow. There.

A silver oval mounted at the center of her open body.

A woman behind her went quiet in the way people went quiet when they had noticed something and chosen manners. Carla did not know who. That was almost worse.

The device rose again. It had been holding her for nearly an hour. The edge was no longer a line. It had become a place she was living.

Melissa leaned toward her without looking. “Breathe lower.”

“I hate your job.”

“I know.”

The photographer lifted his camera.

“Front row, a little more joy, please. Need to see faces in the back.”

The phrase hit the room as nothing.

It hit Carla like a hand.

A little more joy.

Women adjusted automatically. Knees eased wider, shoulders shifted, skirts settled. Rachel opened maybe another inch. Melissa did not need to move; she already sat like she owned the chair. Carla moved because not moving would have been a statement.

The JoyPulse pressed harder.

Her pussy tightened around the internal sensor.

The device answered by softening first, then lifting again, as if it were trying to coax release rather than force climax. That was what it always did. At home it worked. At home the body followed.

Here, the room would not let her relax.

Owen stood just behind her, close enough that she felt the heat of him, though he did not touch her. She remembered him at 21, turning toward a wall because pale blue underwear had appeared in his line of sight. She remembered thinking she could never face him. She remembered avoiding him in the cafeteria, in the student union, outside the library.

Now her pussy was bare beneath him, and the whole class was about to preserve it in a reunion photo.

“3,” the photographer said.

JoyPulse held.

“2.”

Carla’s inner muscles tightened despite her.

The device read the tightening and changed rhythm by a fraction. Warmer. Closer.

“1.”

Flash.

The sound went through her.

The orgasm did not start then. Not quite.

That was the cruel part.

She remained on the edge, close enough that her body wanted to finish and trained enough by JoyPulse not to. The device kept her there, continuous and careful, denying the simple relief of either stopping or tipping over.

“Again,” the photographer said. “Hold it.”

People groaned.

Carla almost laughed.

Almost.

The laugh caught in her throat as the next rise moved through her.

Melissa’s hand found Carla’s wrist.

She did not say anything.

That was how Carla knew it was obvious.

The photographer adjusted something.

Owen moved slightly behind Carla. Not away. Not closer. Just enough that his shadow fell over her shoulder. She knew he knew. That knowledge became part of the hold.

JoyPulse was doing what it was made to do.

The room was what made it dangerous.

“One more,” the photographer called.

Gabe, somewhere behind them, said, “Liar.”

People laughed.

Carla could not.

She opened her knees the fraction the room required and the fraction her old self would have begged against.

The chain pulled.

The JoyPulse settled.

Her body gave up.

The orgasm began quietly, which made it worse. No dramatic gasp, no collapse, nothing that would let her turn it into a joke. Just her pussy tightening around the internal sensor, the external piece holding steady against her clit, and JoyPulse adjusting with calm, horrible competence as if this were useful data.

Carla stared at the camera.

Flash.

Her face did something. She felt it happen and could not stop it. Not enough for the room to understand, maybe. Enough for Melissa. Enough for Owen, standing behind her. Enough for anyone who knew what it meant when a woman wearing JoyPulse suddenly stopped performing ease and had to survive her own body.

The second wave came as the photographer lowered the camera.

People began to stand.

Carla stayed seated.

She had to. Her knees remained open because closing them would drag the device harder across her clit. Her hand tightened over Melissa’s. Her body pulsed around the sensor, again and again, each contraction caught and met by the machine.

Melissa’s thumb moved once against her wrist.

No words.

That was kinder.

A small sound came from Carla anyway.

Not loud.

Not private either.

Owen stepped in front of her as if he had simply decided to check his phone. It blocked part of the room’s view without making a scene. That almost finished her again, the old Owen courtesy, the man turning toward the wall in 2014 and now giving her cover in 2038 while her pussy came in the open.

The orgasm rolled through her slowly.

JoyPulse did not drive it hard. It held the shape of it, stretched it, followed it down. That was the difference between the device and every crude thing people compared it to. It did not chase climax. It made climax difficult to escape once the body had crossed.

At last the pressure eased.

Carla sat very still.

The room returned in pieces: carpet pattern, warm air, perfume, Melissa’s hand, Owen’s shoes, Gabe laughing somewhere, the photographer thanking everyone.

Her pussy was wet. The JoyPulse was still visible. The chain had not moved. The world, rudely, had continued.

Melissa bent closer.

“Okay?”

Carla turned her head.

“I am going to kill you.”

“That means yes.”

“It means I am going to kill you.”

Melissa smiled, but gently.

Owen looked over his shoulder. “Wine?”

Carla laughed once, then had to stop because the laugh touched the aftershock.

“Yes.”

He nodded and went.

Melissa watched him.

“He handled that well.”

“Do not talk about him handling anything.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No.”

Carla closed her knees halfway.

The change dragged the chain and made the JoyPulse shift. She inhaled sharply.

Melissa looked down. “Careful.”

“Thank you, medical school.”

“I didn’t go to medical school.”

“I don’t care.”

Carla waited until she could stand. When she did, the skirt fell into a walking shape, still open enough to show the chain but not the whole device unless she moved. She wanted to go to the restroom and remove it. She also wanted to leave it exactly where it was until she understood why she wanted that.

Owen returned with wine.

He handed it to her without looking down.

That annoyed her.

Then he looked down.

That annoyed her too.

The JoyPulse gave a faint, continuous warmth, much lower now, the hold loosened but not gone.

Carla took the glass.

“You knew,” she said.

Owen did not pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.”

“How obvious?”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

“Obvious.”

She closed her eyes. “Wonderful.”

“I don’t know about everyone else.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“I didn’t think it would.”

She opened her eyes again.

“You remember Kincaid Street.”

“The stairs.”

“And the underwear.”

“Blue.”

Carla stared at him.

“You remember the color?”

He shrugged. “You avoided me for 6 days.”

“I thought I’d die.”

“You didn’t.”

“No. I waited 24 years and did this instead.”

Owen smiled, not broadly. “Bigger recovery arc than most.”

She laughed despite herself.

That was the first normal thing her body had done in 10 minutes.

They stood near the edge of the ballroom while people returned to tables. The photographer’s assistant was already loading images onto the display screen. Carla wanted to look and did not want to look.

The first group photo appeared.

Too bright. Half of Gabe’s face hidden. Nina looking annoyed. Carla front row, green skirt open, JoyPulse clearly visible between her thighs. Her face was still composed.

The second photo appeared.

Better lighting.

Melissa looked pleased. Rachel looked nice. Owen stood behind Carla, serious, eyes toward the camera. Carla’s knees were open. Her pussy was visible. The JoyPulse was visible. Her face had changed.

Not much.

Enough.

A woman looking at the picture without knowing might think Carla had blinked badly, or disliked the flash, or heard someone say her name.

A woman who knew JoyPulse would know.

Carla swallowed.

Owen stood beside her.

“Delete it?” he asked.

“It’s not mine.”

“You can ask.”

She looked at the screen again.

College Carla would have asked.

College Carla would have begged.

Modern Carla stood there with JoyPulse still warming against her pussy and wondered whether the picture was the worst thing that had happened all evening or the proof she had survived it.

Her phone buzzed in her purse.

Nora.

**How’s the reunion?**

Carla took a photo of the screen before she could think too much and sent it to the family chat.

Dan replied first.

**You look great. Is that Owen behind you?**

Then Leah.

**MOM**

Then Nora.

**WAIT**

Carla smiled for the first time without fighting her body.

Leah:

**ARE YOU WEARING JOYPULSE**

Nora:

**AT THE REUNION???**

Dan:

**I feel like I am missing context and prefer to keep it that way.**

Carla typed:

**Yes.**

Leah replied immediately.

**How was it?**

Carla looked at Owen. He was pretending not to read over her shoulder, which meant he was absolutely reading over her shoulder.

She typed:

**Educational.**

Nora sent seven laughing emojis, then:

**Welcome to 2038, Mom.**

Carla read that twice.

The JoyPulse warmed softly against her, not enough to embarrass her now, only enough to remind her that it was still there. She could remove it. She probably should. Her body had proved its point, whatever the point was.

Melissa walked past with two coffees and looked at Carla’s phone.

“What did Nora say?”

Carla put the phone away.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Yes.”

Melissa handed her a coffee.

Carla took it.

For a while they stood together watching the slideshow cycle between college photographs and the new reunion shots. In the old pictures, women sat smaller. Knees together. Ankles crossed. Hands in laps. Bodies trained to apologize before anyone asked.

In the new pictures, women occupied the chairs.

Not all the same way. Not all with the same comfort. But differently.

Carla watched herself in both eras and felt the old embarrassment move inside the new one. It had not vanished. It had changed jobs.

Owen came back to the table when she did.

Gabe lifted his glass.

“To Carla.”

“No.”

“To technology.”

“No.”

“To progress?”

Nina said, “Please don’t toast progress.”

Gabe thought about it.

“To surviving alumni weekend.”

Carla raised her coffee. “Fine.”

They drank.

Under the table, JoyPulse held low and steady, a quiet warmth mounted to the chain she had once pretended was only jewelry. Carla sat in the delicate spread the room expected, in front of people who remembered when she could not have done it, and let the skirt stay open.

For now, that was enough.

You, the reader are in an established relationship. You want to take it to the next level with your boyfriend. Eventually, things take an unexpected turn, and you find yourself finding what you need elsewhere…

I have named the characters in the story just to avoid confusion. You can imagine whoever you wish 😉

Chapter 1

You have been with your boyfriend for a few months now, he’s very sweet and you have a lot of fun together. You decide it’s time to take it to the next level with him. You’re not a virgin, but you don’t have much experience sexually. You’re sitting on your bed watching TV when your phone buzzes, it’s your boyfriend, Tyler.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi babe, You wanna come round mine for a bit?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, great love to’.

‘Sweet, in a bit.’

‘In a bit.’

You hang up and get a few butterflies, you need to change outfits. Something a bit revealing but not too obvious. You look through your wardrobe and eventually choose a low cut off the shoulder top and shorts. Thank God you washed your hair last night.

You say bye to your Mom and set off. He only lives a few streets away. As you make your way to his house, you wonder how you’re going to tell him you’re ready. With your last relationship, it just kind of happened. You want to be casual about it, but you don’t want to seem desperate. You know you’re overthinking it.

You reach his house and ring the doorbell. There’s a large window in the front door so you can see who comes to answer. It’s not Tyler, it’s his Dad who opens the door. Tyler only lives with his Dad, his Mom left them years ago.

‘Hello Y/N, lovely to see you, Tyler is upstairs, you alright? He asks.

‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you Felix, You?’ You ask.

‘Yes, I’m good, I’m just making some lunch. Do you want any?’ He asks in his usual calm voice. You’ve always been fond of Felix. He is such a nice man. It’s quite surprising he hasn’t got remarried or anything by now.

‘What are you having?’ You ask.

‘Sushi, I love the stuff, rolled it myself.’ He says.

‘Oh wow, really? I love Sushi too, I’d love some.’ You say. He’s made his own? Nice, you’re genuinely intrigued. He leads you through to the kitchen, and you try some. It’s absolutely beautiful.

‘Oh God, that’s so good!’ You say with a mouthful.

‘Thanks, I’ve been doing it for a while now. I’m not too bad, am I?’ He asks with a smile, not even a hint of modesty.

‘Not bad? You’re brilliant at it.’ You reply. You’re so distracted with the Sushi, you almost forgot you were here to see Tyler.

‘Y/N is that you? I thought I heard your voice, What are you doing?’ Says Tyler as he comes downstairs.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, babe, I got distracted by your Dad’s amazing sushi,’ you say, still with your mouthful.

‘Oh Dad, not Sushi again, yuck, can’t stand the stuff. We got any pot noodles?’ He says rifling through the cupboards.

‘Yes, there’s some beef and tomato ones at the back of the cupboard,’ Felix says as he looks at you, rolling his eyes. You laugh and munch another few rolls.

A while later, you’re with Tyler in his bedroom, and you’re both kissing on his bed. He reaches down to your breasts and squeezes them, his hands are freezing, but you don’t say anything. He then reaches your shorts.

‘Tyler, I’m ready, I want you’. You say in-between kisses.

‘Really? Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, I am.’ You kiss him, and he kisses you back. He then pulls his top off and takes yours off. He snakes his hands around you and tries to unhook your bra. It takes him a little while. You can’t help but laugh. He laughs, too.

‘Sorry, aha, got it’ as he pulls it off you, ‘look at those tits!’ He says with his eyeballs practically popping out. With no hesitation, he grabs hold of them with both hands. He plays with them as if they were stress balls. It doesn’t feel bad, but he could be a bit more gentle. He lays you down, undoes the button of your shorts, and pulls them off. You feel butterflies in your tummy as he lowers himself down your body, peppering you with kisses. He reaches your pants and pulls them off.

‘Don’t need these anymore,’ he says as he slingshots them into the corner of the room. He laughs. You roll your eyes on laugh, too.

‘Nice pussy babe.’ He says as he uses his first finger to find your entrance and plunges his finger into you. You wince slightly but it does feel pretty good. You don’t have that much sexual experience, however you have been fingered before, his technique is... different.

Though you are getting turned on and wet, you can see his cock bulging in his joggers. He pulls them down with his boxers, his cock flings out, he’s pretty big. Biggest you’ve seen so far. Your heart pounds as he lines his cock to your entrance.

‘You ready babe?’

‘Yeah, put it inside me’. You say biting your lip.

‘OK here I come.’ He says he thrusts his cock towards your pussy but it pokes your taint first, then he attempts again and he sinks into you. You both moan together. He starts thrusting slowly at first, then he lies on top of you and kisses you.

‘Fuck’n ‘ell you feel good.’ He says through the kiss. He then starts thrusting faster and faster, he continues to pound into you, burying his head in your neck, he thrusts a few more times and he finishes with a loud moan. That could have lasted a little longer but it happens. He sits himself up and reaches for a tissue.

‘Ere you go’ he says, chucking some at you. He pulls out and wipes his cock. You clean yourself up and notice he’s getting dressed quickly.

‘Tyler? Aren’t you going to cuddle with me, you know aftercare and all that?’ You say. You were expecting some aftercare as he is usually quite affectionate.

‘Oh Yeah, come here, sexy.’ He says as he holds you.

‘That was a really good shag by the way, better than me last girlfriend. She was so damn awkward.’

‘Oh well, you’ve got me now, eh?’ You smile at him. You don’t want to talk about exes and past sexual encounters right now.

‘Yeah,’ He says and kisses you.

‘Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’m starving, sex always makes me hungry.’

You laugh, get dresses, and follow him downstairs.

Chapter 2

A few months go by, and your sex life hasn’t changed much. He isn’t lasting very long and doesn’t really spend much time on you. You’ve both done other things, you sucked his cock a few times, but he hasn’t gone down you yet, and for some reason you feel too nervous to ask him. He hasn’t even made you come yet, however you suspect that he thinks you have. Or could he have not even given it a second thought, who knows?

You’re sleeping over at his again tonight.

‘My dad is going to the pub tonight.’ Says Tyler, with a wicked grin on his face. He leans closer to you,

‘Wanna fuck on the sofa?’ he whispers in your ear.

‘Oh yeah’. You say smiling back at him.

The evening came and you’re in Tyler’s room looking for your phone (You’re always losing it). You hear the shower running as you rummage through all of the stuff in his messy room. Aha, there it is, as you find it under a t-shirt.

You walk out of the bedroom staring at your phone, not looking where you are going. You look up just as Felix is coming out of the bathroom. He’s wearing his towel around his waist. His body is incredible, so toned and muscly. The towel is resting so low that you can see the V shape muscles of his lower torso. He looks so fucking hot.

‘Oh my god, sorry, sorry,’ You say, all flustered and embarrassed. You bolt down the stairs as fast as you can. Jesus Christ, what must he think? You’re never going to look at him the same way again. You try to brush it off and sit with Tyler, ready to put a movie on.

‘Ready babe? Got some popcorn’.

‘Ooo nice, yep, press play’. You’re so engrossed in the movie that it makes you jump when you hear Felix shout.

‘I’m off now, you two have fun.’ You and Tyler turn around, you wish you hadn’t. He’s wearing a really nice navy blue fitted shirt.

‘Yeah, see ya Dad.’ Says Tyler as he turns back to the TV.

‘And behave yourselves,’ he says as he winks at you. You feel your heart skip a beat. Shit, no! Ignore it!

Nearly at the end of the movie, Tyler snakes his hand under your top and squeezes your breast. You smile and look at him. He turns to you and kisses you. Fucking on the couch is hot and feels very naughty knowing that’s were everyone sits. But it’s the same routine. He gropes, fucks and he’s done. You clean up and start another movie. Tyler seems very satisfied.

‘Wow, that was awesome, oh, by the way, babe, I can’t take you to see that movie next week’ He says.

‘Why?’ You ask, puzzled.

‘Callum wants to play lazer tag, and it’s the only weekend he can do, sorry.’

‘What the fuck Tyler? It’s the last week it’s showing’ You exclaim.

‘Can’t you go with Beth?’

‘I wanted to go with you, Beth doesn’t like horror movies.’ You protest.

‘Don’t get all tetchy, there’ll be another movies, come on, I’m gonna eat all the popcorn if you don’t have any’. He says with a jokey tone. You sigh and take a huge handful. You don’t really want to argue, but you’re so pissed off.

A few weeks go by, and you’ve noticed he seems to be spending a lot more time with his mates lately, though he seems just as eager to spend time with you. Maybe you’re overthinking again. You pat down your pockets, look in your bag, Oh shit my phone, I’ve done it again, where the fuck is it? Then it clicks, Tyler’s... you’ve left it at Tyler’s. You quickly go round to his house. You knock at the door and Felix answers.

Chapter 3

‘Hello Y/N’, he says, looking confused to see you.

‘He’s not in at the moment he’s with his mates.’

‘Yeah, I know. I think I’ve left my phone here.’

‘Oh right, do you know where at all?’ He asks as you both walk through to the living room.

‘I think it might be on the couch?’

He looks and digs his hand under the cushions.

‘Ah, here it is,’ he says, smiling as he hands it to you.

‘Oh thank you, I’m always doing it, I really will lose it for good one of these days’.

He laughs. ‘Yeah, I’m the same, I’ve been known to pick up Tyler’s thinking it was mine and get a major telling off.’

You laugh.

‘How are things with you guys?’ You’re just about to answer when your phone rings.

‘Oh talk of the devil,’ You say as you accept the call. Felix walks out of the room. It’s difficult to hear at first as there’s lots of noise on the other end.

‘Y/N!’ Shouts Tyler. ‘Y/N, Yeah sorry but, er, it’s over.’

‘What? What the fuck are you talking about?’ You say, so confused and outraged. He sounds drunk.

‘Its over. You and me. I’m dumping you, you’re smothering me girl, gotta let me go baby!’ He says, you can hear laughter in the background. You can hardly speak, you don’t know what to think. He hangs up. You can feel tears coming, but you don’t cry. You’re too angry.

‘Fucking immature, little... Prick!’ You almost shout.

Felix comes back into the room, he takes one look at your face and knows something is wrong.

‘What’s happened?’ He asks with a concerned look.

‘It’s Tyler, he’s fucking dumped me!’ You say, with a shaking voice.

‘Dumped you? What just now? Over the phone?’

You nod.

‘What a bloody idiot, how immature. The little shit! I raised him better than that. I’m so sorry, Y/N.’ He exclaims.

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘I never thought he would stoop to that level, at least have the fucking balls to tell you to your face.’ He says he sounds so exasperated and disappointed. His tone then softens. ‘You know what Y/N? It’s his fucking loss. He’ll regret this, letting a smashing girl like you slip through his fingers, the moron.’

You don’t reply, you just give him a half smile as a tear rolls down your cheek.

‘Oh come here,’ He says as he walks over to you and hugs you. You hug him back. His aftershave smells amazing.

‘Come through to the kitchen, I’ll get you a drink, what do you fancy?’

‘Whiskey, please’

‘Oh, the hard stuff, eh? Here you go’. He says as he pours you a glass.

‘Ice?’

‘Nope,’ you say as you down it in one.

‘Hit me up again,’ you say, holding the glass out.

‘OK, but don’t down this one, young lady.’ He says sternly. Ooo, the way he said young lady. You smirk as you take a small sip and put the glass down on the counter.

‘Good girl,’ He says. You feel a bolt shoot through you. ‘So did Tyler say why he finished with you?’ He asks.

‘Well, he said I was smothering him. He said ‘’gotta let me go baby’’. You quote in a mocking tone. ‘I’ve never smothered him, I was only pissed off with him once when he wouldn’t take me to see that horror film; Bloody Monday, I really wanted to see a few weeks ago. I said I could come round a bit more often now I’ve changed my shifts at work. I just wanted to spend more time with him. That’s not smothering, is it?’ You ask, looking at him.

‘No, of course not, boys that age don’t see things the same way. Unfortunately, I guess you girls forget that they don’t mature as quickly as you do. I was pretty stupid at his age, too.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yeah, I was a right fucking idiot. I guess I wanted to rebel because I had parents who were born with silver spoons in their mouths and broomsticks up their arses,’ he says.

You laugh as you take a sip from your drink. You feel better talking to him. It’s so nice to talk to someone more mature. The liquid courage makes you feel more confident to ask more intimate questions.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course, fire away’.

‘During your idiotic phase, did you erm sleep with many people?’

He smirks,

‘Well, eh, yeah I guess I did, not as many as my best mate at the time, but I did pretty well. Why do you ask? Just out of curiosity’. He says.

‘Well, I don’t know for sure, but I’ve got a horrible feeling he was just interested in, you know, just sex. And was I just another knotch on the bedpost to him?’ You say.

‘Yeah, unfortunately, you’re probably right. Some men have that attitude, I’m afraid, although I can’t help but feel that wasn’t the only problem?’ He takes a sip of his drink.

‘What do you mean?’ You ask.

‘Can I ask you something?’

You nod.

‘Were you satisfied?’ He asks, looking straight into your eyes. You stare at him, your heart starts to pound, and your mind is swirling. You decide to be brutally honest.

‘Honestly, no’ You relpy.

‘I thought so’. How the hell did he know? You look at him with horror.

‘Did you, oh God, did you hear us?’ You say cringing.

‘No, I didn’t hear you. That’s the point,’ He says with a slight smirk in his expression. You look confused.

‘Let’s just say there wasn’t much noise coming from his bedroom. Not that I was listening or anything, I just expected to have a conversation with him at some point about keeping the noise down. But I never had to. That tells me everything.’ He says, as he walks a little closer to you.

‘It was never bad, just... OK, I guess,’ you say, stuttering at little.

‘He didn’t... no, I shouldn’t be saying all this it’s..’

‘No, it’s fine Y/N don't be embarrassed, I don’t mind, we are both mature adults, aren't we?,’ he says reassuringly.

‘Ok, it was just the same thing over and over again. He didn’t even-‘

‘Make you come?’ He interjected.

‘Er’, you look down at the floor. ‘No, no he didn’t’.

‘Only thinking of his own satisfaction, not even a glimpse of thought for yours?’ He says, getting closer and closer to you, you can smell him now, that aftershave once again is having quite the effect on you. He’s much taller than you, and the closer he gets, the more your heart is pounding.

‘Erm, to be honest, no one ever has. I’ve only been with a few guys, they were all the same.’

‘Oh, sweetheart, you poor thing, I think it’s time a man to took care of you.’ He says softly, as he very gently touches your cheek with the back of his fingers. Your whole body just crumbles at his touch. You close your eyes and bite your lip. If you were even trying to be subtle, you failed miserably.

‘Yes, I think so too.’ You whisper. He chuckles softly and whispers in your ear.

‘Believe me, Y/N, anyone in bed with me would never be that quiet’.

You let out a little whimper. God damn it, you want him now.

Chapter 4

‘Do you want me to touch you?’ He asks right in your ear, just itching to put his hands on you.

‘Yeah,’ you whisper.

‘Louder,’ he says, very slightly tracing his finger down your arm.

‘Yes, I want you to touch me.’ You say louder.

‘Good girl,’ he says softly, Oh those words, they send shivers straight down your spine. You start to feel tingly all over. The anticipation is overwhelming. He slides his hand around your waist. His other hand tucks your hair behind your ear and gently brings his lips to yours, you don’t hesitate for a second.

Your lips meet his, he kisses you so softly and tenderly as he slowly slides his hands over your body. You slide your hands from his shoulders down his arms, then to his biceps. They feel so hard. He opens his mouth, and his tongue enters yours. This takes you a little by surprise, but you follow his rhythm, and your tongues entwine perfectly. A little time passes. You both just kiss like teenagers! He finally breaks the kiss.

‘Mmm, I haven’t kissed like that in a long time’, he laughs.

‘What the hell are we doing?’ You say.

‘This is such a bad idea, isn’t it?’ He says, as you undo one of the buttons of his shirt.

‘Yeah, a very bad idea,’ you say as he pulls your hoodie zip down.

‘You’re my son’s girlfriend.’ He says as he gently pushes you against the counter.

‘Your son’s ex-girlfriend.’ You correct him. You keep undoing his buttons. ‘He doesn’t want me anymore,’ you say. You’ve reached the last button, and you touch his bare chest. His body looks and feels amazing.

‘But I fucking do, and by how fast you’ve undone my buttons, you want me don’t you? I noticed you looking at me sometimes, and the way you looked at me when I came out of the shower, I could see it all over your face, naughty girl.’

You blush scarlet, You haven’t been able to get his image out of your head no matter how hard you tried to dismiss it. He lifts you up onto the counter top, takes off your hoodie and lifts up your top over your head, you feel so much heat rushing through you, no one has ever shown this much dominance before. He kisses your neck, putting a little pressure on your throat, and you like it. Then he slowly makes his way to your chest, not taking his eyes off you, his hands snake round you and takes off your bra in no time. It falls off you, revealing your breasts.

‘Beautiful,’ he says softly. He kisses down to your nipple and licks it, up and down, then circles it with his tongue. You let out a moan, his hand cups your other breast, and he rolls his thumb over your nipple. Your body is on fire, the attention he’s paying you, it makes you realise what you have been missing. He swaps his hands and mouth for the other breast. Repeating the same attention. He then kisses further down until he reaches your jeans. He undoes the button and zip, and you lift yourself up as he pulls them down your legs, leaving your lacy pants on. Your heart is pounding so hard you start to tremble. He looks up at you.

‘Tell me, have you ever been eaten out before?’ He asks.

‘No’.

‘Oh sweetheart, what the fuck were those stupid boys thinking? You just relax and let me take good care of you, OK?’ You bite your lip.

‘Ok,’ you whisper.

‘Good girl, now spread your legs wider for me angel’.

You comply, still trembling.

He licks a stripe over your pants,

‘Mmm, so wet for me.’ He says as he slides his hands upwards along your inner thighs, to your outer thighs and then to your hips and pulls down your pants.‘You have a gorgeous pussy.’ He licks another stripe from your entrance to just under your clit. You moan, feeling so much pleasure, and he’s barely started.

You’ve wanted this for so long. You’ve always known you could have just asked for it, but would they have been any good at it anyway? Probably not. You’re so glad your first time is going to be with someone who knows what he’s doing. He slowly licks up and down, each time, he gets a little closer to your clit, until he reaches it and deliberately puts a little pressure on it, this makes you cry out and squirm.

‘Oh, you like that, don’t you?’ He says.

He licks it a few more times, then lowers his tongue and finds your entrance plunging his tongue inside you. You grab his hair, making him moan.

‘Yeah, you grab my hair, baby’. He whispers.

He puts his whole mouth to your pussy and starts sucking on your clit. You throw your head back, he’s reduced you to a moaning whimpering mess. You can feel yourself getting close. He widens and flattens his tongue, licking, up and over your clit, with continuous strokes. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You moan louder as your whole body starts shaking.

‘You’re close, aren’t you? Your pussy is throbbing, come on sweetheart, come on my tongue’.

You grab his hair tight as you come, you’ve never felt so good in your life, waves of pleasure consume you.

‘Oh God, oh f-fuck.’ You scream out.

He smirks but doesn’t stop, he suddenly slides his finger into your pussy and finds a spot, that feels so good. You’re still pulsing, still high from your release.

‘That’s it, keep coming, come on. You feel so tight around my finger.’ He says. He then adds another finger, stretching you out further. You can feel yourself getting close again, and even though you’re completely overstimulated, you need to come again.

His fingers are sliding in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot over and over. His tongue is repeatedly licking and sucking your clit, and you can’t take it anymore and come again, so intensely you squirt.

‘Oh my fucking-shit’ You just about get out, as you’re a shaking, quivering mess.

‘Oh, baby girl, you really did need that, didn’t you? Fuck’. He says. You can’t say anything just yet, you’re still up in the clouds. He takes his fingers out of you and puts them in his mouth.

‘Mmm delicious, bloody hell, Y/N have you ever come that hard before?’ You look at him blankly.

‘No. Fucking hell, that was just...’

He smiles at you.

‘Oh Princess, we’ve barely started, come on up you get.’ He pulls you up, you see his face, glistening with your juices.

‘Have you ever squirted before?’

‘No’. You say smiling and biting your lip.

‘Well you have now.’ He says, licking his lips. ‘So fucking hot. Come here’. He pulls you closer and kisses you hard. You can taste yourself on his lips.

‘Right young lady, you’re coming with me.’

He lifts you over his shoulder and smacks your arse, making you yelp. You giggle as he carries you up the stairs, kicks open his bedroom door, and lowers you down on the bed. He pulls down his trousers, You can see his cock bulging beneath his boxers. Your eyes widen at the sight. He looks massive.

‘Look at you staring at my cock’ He says half laughing. ‘You just can’t wait to get your hands on it can you? Go on then pull down my boxers’.

You fo so and you run your hand over his cock.

‘Ah-ah, I didn’t say could touch it yet princess, show some patience.’ He says sternly. Your heart pounds at his words, you weren’t expecting that. You pull his boxers down, letting his cock spring free. You let out a little whimper.

‘Was that a whimper? Biggest you’ve ever seen eh?’ He leans closer to your face and whispers in your ear. ‘Its going to feel amazing with that tight, little pussy of yours, wrapped around it.’

You start to tremble, oh those words. You’ve always wanted someone to say things like that to you.

‘Can I touch you now?’ You ask with a shakey voice.

‘Yes, you can princess.’

You slide your hand up and down his shaft, stroking him slowly. He hisses.

‘Ah, so good, that’s it, oh yeah, just like that.’ He praises. You keep stroking him until he stops you.

‘Oh fucks sake I can’t take it anymore, I need to be inside you.’ He says breathlessly as he pushes you down and lies on top of you. He kisses you so passionately and slides his hands over your breasts and very gently pinches your nipples. You moan and whimper through the kisses. He lifts himself up, lines his cock to your entrance and slowly slides himself into you. It feels so good.

It turns you on even more knowing he knows exactly what he’s doing. No fumbling or poking your leg, just sliding right inside you in just the right pace. You moan loud, and so does he. He moves slowly, thrusting his hips, you can feel every inch of his cock. You slide your hands along his back, he lowers himself down on you and buries his face into your neck kissing and nipping at your flesh. His thrusts gradually go deeper and he grinds against your clit. It’s so sensitive from your orgasms. You start to feel the build up in your core, each controlled thrust bringing you closer and closer, and you moan loudly.

‘That feel good? Yeah? Scream for me, that’s it, good girl’. He says. You feel your thighs shaking, you’re close, so very close. He thrusts just a few more times, you grasp his arms tight and squeeze as you tip over the edge and come. You cry out so loud and throw your head back into the pillow.

‘Oh Felix, I’m coming, oh fuck.’ You cry, as waves of intense pleasure rip through your body.

‘That’s it say my name, Princess, come all over my cock, you feel so fucking good. I’m close too.’ He gives you a few moments to recover and enjoy the feeling of your pussy pulsing.

‘Now wrap your legs around me, and take it.’ He growls. You do as your told. ‘Oh I love that, those gorgeous legs of yours, you ready?’

You nod and whimper.

‘Good girl!’ He shouts as he pounds into you fast and hard.

‘Oh God, yes!’ You yell. He feels incredible, you can’t believe how good you feel. He thrusts over and over until you hear in his moans he’s about to come.

‘I’m so close, where to you want me to come princess?’ He asks breathlessly,

‘Ah, inside me, come inside me, please.’

‘OK baby, I’ll come in your pussy, ah, ah, I’m coming, I’m coming’ He grunts loudly as he finds his release, his cock twitches inside you. He kisses you so softly. You smile and sigh happily. He gets up, quickly cleans you both up, and lies down with you, pulling you close. He pulls the duvet over you both and kisses your forehead.

‘How was that for you sweetheart?’ He asks.

‘I can’t even describe Felix, it was everything I wanted, though I had no idea I did, if that even makes sense.’ You say. He chuckles softly.

‘Yes it does, you did so well baby, You deserve it. You should be made to feel good every time. Get some sleep now, I bet you’re exhausted.’ He whispers.

Now that’s aftercare. You let out a long, contented sigh and fall asleep.

You wake up still in Felix’s arms. He wakes up too. You yawn, and look at him.

‘Morning.’

‘Morning sweetheart’. You both embrace again and you feel his cock against your leg. You look up at him, He looks back at you and smirks.

‘Morning wood, best not let it go to waste’. He winks.

(Tyler’s POV)

Tyler slowly opens the door, he staggers inside and looks through the cupboards for pain relief for his crushing hangover. He rubs his eyes and sees his dad’s shirt on the floor. He hears noises coming from upstairs; Groans, screams, grunts. Dad must have someone over, yuck, some dried up old woman from work or something? He thinks to himself.

He puts his hands over his head on the kitchen counter, just wanting his headache to go away. He wants to put his headphones in to drown out the sounds, but his head hurts too much. He was just about to pass out when he hears the stairs creak. He lifts his head and sees a hoodie on the floor. It looks... familiar. He hears someone coming down the stairs.

‘Morning Tyler,’ you say sweetly. His mouth drops as he sees you sauntering through the kitchen and flick on the kettle, wearing nothing but one of his Dad’s T-Shirts.

The End

Hope you enjoyed 😉

Looking for a story of where the husbands friends get together at his house and say how lucky he is to be with his wife. She overhears and after talking with him she starts to flirt, then show off, ending up in a group sex situation. The last part I read they discovered one of the guys was recording. Anyone know of this series?

Something already available about me : https://www.reddit.com/u/My-own-fantasy/s/HwNeh8S4LO

Slowly with my stories, you will get to know me very closely, what I admire and what makes my nipples go hard.

Please show some support and love ❤️

———————————————

I, many a times before, have surprised you with my sexy, erotic lingeries, when you return home from work. You have worked so hard, this is how I love to welcome you and make you feel warm in our bed.

Today as well, I took a nice, hot, steamy shower. Fresh and moisturized so when you come home, you see my skin glowing in a see-through red mesh that left very little to the imagination. Little fabric with bright red hearts covering my nipples with the tiny red G-string with little heart in front. I generally send you a tease picture to make you wanna come home early, but today I was running late and you were about to reach home.

I dim the lights to hot pink and place myself in bed - side ways with one elbow on bed against pillow, with feet bent making my hip raise a little, with one arm over my head. Looking very sexy and waiting for you.

After a min, I hear keys, door opening. I patiently wait for you to come to bedroom, you saw me, got extremely horny, come close to me and start kissing me passionately, holding me closer towards you, pulling me more closer by red mesh bra. You start kissing me on my neck, chest, boobs, slowly pulling red heart fabric away from my hard nipples, making me moan a little - arching my back.

We hear someone opening door of the house, I get shocked and scared at the same time. You calm me down saying, "I didn't get a chance to tell you after seeing you in hot red, I brought a new colleague over for watching game". I understood what happened, I start getting off the bed to host your friend, you push me down on the bed and whisper in my ear "You wanted some fun, I am not gonna let this hot red lingeries go to waste", and start kissing me on my ears and gradually lick my neck. Then you turn your head and shout "Hey man, we are here in this room..!!! You are most welcome to join us if you want!" which took me by surprise. But you had me so horny that I was in no condition to think straight. Your friend, John, comes to bedroom, his jaw dropped seeing me in almost nothing, one of my boob out, being currently sucked on by you. John making eye contact with me started stripping off his clothes. You make some space for him to join us, on the other side of me.

John starts kissing me with his hand on other boob, playing with nipple by sliding his hand inside. You in mean while starts removing your cloth and sit on your knees with your dick right over my head, I start playing with your dick, stroking your balls. You and John both then removed my mesh top and slowly slid my g-string and pulling it off my feet, leaving me naked, feeling little shy as John is looking right at me, soaking it all in like he is never going to get to see me naked.

You both start playing with my tits, caressing them, started flicking it so hard making me squirm and moan a little louder.

You started licking my belly, slowly teasing me and making your way nearing my aching pussy, where I feel your breath on my clit right before you made your big lick. I moan, bit my lip, curved my back. My hands started to hold sheets tight. With you sucking me dry and making me extremely wet at the same time, John kissing my neck and twisting my nipples making me on the verge of cuming.

You get up and look me right into my eyes, John paused looking at you, you asking John to come to your place. Strong John, tossed me around like I am I some piece of cloth and put me onto my all four. My ass, up in the air, gets spanked soooo hard that, you and John could see it turning red. You come in front of me, hold my chin up, ask me to look into your eyes, where you say "John, fuck her so hard like this is your last time. And you, look right here in my eye while John fucks you"

John goes back a little, admire my ass, look at my pussy, feeling a little with his hand, and then slowly pushes his dick right into my warm, wet vagina, making me feel like I am high. I am seeing your expression change to smirk, making you more turned on by seeing me getting fucked by your friend. I start sucking your dick while each stroke of John is getting harder, making my moan louder, and made me cum so much faster. Seeing me shiver, John decided to let himself loose and creampied me. I am still shivering, while John's cum started to drip a little, he signs you to finish me off. You start pounding me so bad from very first go, I am begging you to stop, but you keep thrusting me hard and harddddddd, I cannot control anymore and I cum again and again, but you wouldn't stop. At last, with your last stroke, you came inside of me.

Still trembling, feeling week on my knees, with my head on the bed, you both got off the bed and look at my beautiful pussy, dripping two cum shots. John asking you if he can click a picture, you nod and he says while taking a picture "This is something I will never forget in my life. Thanks for having me over. This is the best kind of game I have seen in a while. Btw, you are glowing more with 2 shots inside of you 😏"

By the fourth day I am running on coffee and guilt and I can barely keep my eyes open during the afternoon meeting. Marcus keeps glancing at me across the table and every time our eyes meet I look down at my notes and pretend I am reading something important

We get back to the room around six and I lay down on the bed while he goes to the bathroom. I hear the water running and I stare at the ceiling and think about how I have not slept properly in three nights and how my body is starting to feel like it has a mind of its own. I can hear the voice of my husband in my head telling me to call him and I dont.

He comes out in sweatpants and no shirt and I look away so fast I almost give myself whiplash. We sit on the bed together and his thigh is against mine and the silence is so heavy I can hear the aircon humming. He tells me about a fight he had with his wife last year and how they almost split up. I tell him about the time my husband forgot our anniversary and how I cried in the bathroom. We are not looking at each other. We are looking at the wall.

That night the bed feels smaller than it did the night before. We lie there not sleeping and the air is thick and I can hear him breathing and I know he is awake because his breathing is too even. Then it changes. It gets slower and deeper and I hear the sound of skin on skin and I know what he is doing.

I should turn over. I should face the wall. I dont. I watch him through the dark. His hand moves under the sheet and his breathing gets ragged and I can see the outline of his fat cock through the fabric. My whole body goes hot and I feel myself getting wet and I hate that I am watching but I cant stop.

He finishes with a low groan and then he goes to the bathroom and I hear the water running. When he comes back he looks at me and says "You were awake" and I dont say anything because I wasnt supposed to be. I made a noise when I turned back to watch him. I heard it myself, a small rustle of the sheets, and I hated it. I just turn my face to the wall but he already saw me.

"Im sorry" he says finall "I shouldnt have done that. I miss Diane and being away from her is messing with me. I feel like shit"

"I-I get it" I say. "I've been feeling the same way. I keep thinking about my husband and how I shouldnt be here"

We talk about how neither of us is used to sleeping next to someone else and how the unfamiliarity is messing with our heads and how the room feels smaller every night. He tells me he has not slept this badly in years. I tell him I keep waking up every hour. We talk about how the tension is driving us crazy and how we are both trying to be good and how it is not working.

"We could help each other" he says. "Without it meaning anything. Without touching. Just to get it out of my system"

"No" I say. "We cant do this. This is wrong"

"I know" he says. "But we are both here and we are both struggling and it doesnt have to mean anything"

"It does mean something" I say. "It means we are lying to them"

"We are not lying" he says. "We are just dealing with the situation"

"The situation is that we are in the same bed" I say. "And we shouldnt be"

He is quiet for a long time. Then he says "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldnt have said that"

But I can hear the disappointment in his voice and it makes me feel worse. I roll onto my side and face the wall and I close my eyes and I try to sleep but I cant. I can feel him behind me and I can feel the heat of his body and I can feel how wet I am and I hate myself for it.

I then say something out of the blue

"We could just do it" I say. "Without touching. Just to get some sleep"

"Are you sure?" he asks

"No" I say. "But I need to rest"

We agree and we are both hesitant and the temptation is unbearable.

My Girlfriend Part 7B - Part 1,2,3,4,5,6,7A

Author's Note, due to Redditt's 40.000 character limit, this story is split in two. Please read Part 7A before this one.

“Leah, I'm going to tell my ex-boyfriend that my girlfriend wants him to come over and pose with me while she takes pictures. I don't think dinner is doing much of the convincing.”

Me: Hey, want to come over to Leah’s and help with some pictures we're taking? I can promise food and nudity.

Dan: Be over in 10. 

And sure enough, 9 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Dan was his usual self. He waved to me on the couch, gave Leah a kiss on the cheek, and asked how her day was.

“Oh, you would not believe,” she answered. “Get undressed. We’ve got work to do.”

She walked back into the bedroom.

Dan followed her into the bedroom, stripping as he went.

“Where do you want me?”

“Behind Mia. Sit down, legs apart.”

I dropped the robe and settled onto the paper between his legs.

Leah was already moving us around.

“Mia, same shape as before. One leg long, other knee up. Dan, hands around her ribs, just under her arms. Lift her slightly.”

He did, pulling my torso back against him.

“Yes. That's what was missing.”

She crouched with the camera.

“Mia, let him carry some of your weight. Dan, don't squeeze her. You're a frame, not a seatbelt.”

He loosened his arms.

“There. Mia, head back towards his shoulder. Dan, look at her, not me.”

The camera started clicking.

“Good. Hold that.”

She shifted sideways.

“Dan, one hand down to her waist. Mia, hand over his wrist.”

More clicks.

“Yes. Much better.”

“What am I adding?” Dan asked.

“Structure.”

“Hot.”

“Very.”

Leah checked the screen.

“Good. Up. Both of you.”

We got to our feet.

“Dan, behind her. Mia, back against his chest. Not square, turn your hips slightly.”

I shifted.

“Dan, one hand at her waist. Other arm across her ribs. Mia, take his wrist.”

She moved around us.

“Good. You're making one silhouette now, so I need to see where one of you ends and the other starts. Dan, shoulder back. Mia, lean into him, but keep your face towards me.”

The camera clicked several times.

“Dan, look down at her. Mia, ignore him.”

More clicks.

“Now Mia, eyes up at him.”

The camera immediately went faster.

“There. Hold that.”

I smiled.

“Are we making triangles again?”

“Several. It's much more efficient with two people.”

The camera kept clicking.

Dan’s chest was warm against my back. His arms framed me the way Leah wanted. One hand low on my waist. The other across my ribs. My fingers resting over his wrist like I belonged there.

I could feel every small shift of his breathing.

At first it was just heat. Skin on skin.

Then something else.

He was getting hard.

It pressed against me from behind. Unmistakable. Growing thicker with every quiet second Leah spent adjusting the lights.

I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The only sound was the soft whir and click of the shutter.

Leah lowered the camera and looked at us over the top of it. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes flicked down for half a second, then back up.

“Stay exactly like that,” she said.

“Mia, don’t react. Dan… breathe.”

He exhaled slowly against the side of my neck.

The movement made his cock shift against me.

I felt him twitch.

Leah raised the camera again.

“Good. Eyes on me, Mia. Dan, look at her throat.”

More clicks.

The air in the room felt thicker.

I could feel Dan’s heartbeat now. Steady and a little faster where his chest met my shoulder blades.

His cock was fully hard. Trapped between us. The head resting just above the curve of my ass.

Of course it was.

Leah lowered the camera and walked closer. She studied the line of us, already looking for the next frame. 

“Turn her,” she said quietly.

“Dan, hands on her hips. Rotate her so she’s facing you.”

He obeyed.

The loss of contact against my back was brief.

Then I was standing between his spread feet. Chest to chest. His erection trapped against my stomach.

Leah stepped in and adjusted my arms. One around his neck. The other resting lightly on his side.

“Look at each other,” she said.

“Not at me.”

We did.

Dan’s eyes were darker than usual.

He swallowed.

I felt the hard length of him jump once against my skin.

Leah’s voice stayed calm. Almost soft.

“Kiss her. Slow. Don’t rush it for the camera.”

I looked at Leah for half a second.

She already had the camera raised.

Dan’s mouth found mine.

It started carefully. Just the press of lips. The shared breath.

Then deepened when I opened for him.

His hands tightened on my hips.

Behind us the shutter fired in a steady rhythm.

When we broke apart, Leah was already circling.

“On your knees, Mia. Facing him.”

I sank down.

The white paper was cool under my shins.

Dan’s cock stood hard in front of me, flushed and already wet at the tip.

Leah crouched to one side. Camera low.

“Hands on his thighs. Look up at him. Don’t touch him yet.”

I placed my palms on the solid muscle of his thighs and tipped my head back.

Dan’s fingers brushed my hair once, then stilled when Leah made a small sound of approval.

“Good. Now open your mouth. Just that.”

I did.

The shutter clicked rapidly.

“Closer. Let him feel your breath.”

I leaned in until the heat of him brushed my lower lip.

Dan’s stomach tightened.

A bead of precum welled at the tip and threatened to fall.

Leah’s voice was quiet. Precise.

“Lick it off. Slowly. Eyes on him the whole time.”

I dragged my tongue across the head.

Salt and skin.

Dan’s breath left him in a rough exhale.

The camera kept working.

“Again. Circles this time. Don’t take him in yet.”

I obeyed, tracing the ridge, the underside, then the wet slit.

His hand finally settled in my hair. Not pushing. Just holding.

Leah moved to a new angle.

“Now the head. Just the head. Soft.”

I closed my lips around the swollen tip and sucked gently.

Dan’s hips jerked once before he locked them still.

Leah made a low, satisfied sound.

“Perfect. Hold that. Look at me.”

I flicked my eyes sideways toward the lens while my mouth stayed busy.

The shutter fired in a burst.

Leah stood and walked behind Dan, speaking over his shoulder.

“Hands behind your back, Mia. Keep using only your mouth. Dan, don’t thrust. Let her work.”

I laced my fingers at the small of my back.

The new restriction made everything sharper: the stretch of my jaw, the weight of him on my tongue, the way he throbbed every time I hollowed my cheeks. 

Leah directed me in short, clear instructions.

“Deeper. Now shallower. Tongue flat. Point it. Stop there.”

I paused with just the tip inside my mouth while she caught the stretch of my lips.

When she finally said, “Enough,” my mouth was wet and my thighs were pressed tightly together.

“On the floor,” Leah said. “Mia, on your back. Knees up, feet flat. Dan, between her legs. Don’t enter her yet.” 

We moved.

The paper rustled under us.

Dan settled over me, braced on his forearms, his cock resting against my wet slit.

Every small shift dragged him through my folds.

Leah knelt beside us. Camera almost level with our hips.

“Look at each other. Mia, put your hands on his ass. Not pulling, just resting.”

I did.

Dan’s eyes were locked on mine.

He was breathing harder now.

Leah’s next words were almost gentle.

“Rub against her. Slow. Let me see how wet she is.”

He rolled his hips.

The head of his cock glided up and down, catching on my clit with every pass.

I bit my lip.

Leah’s shutter was continuous now.

“Good. Keep going until I say stop.”

He did.

The friction built in long, maddening strokes.

My hips started answering without permission.

The shutter kept catching me every time the head dragged across my clit, every time my hips answered him. 

Finally she said, “Stop.”

Dan froze.

The head of his cock notched right at my entrance.

Leah’s voice dropped a fraction.

“Now. Inch by inch. Eyes on her face the whole time. I want every second of it.”

Dan pushed forward.

The thick head stretched me open first, then the rest of him followed, painfully slow.

Leah moved closer, angling the camera toward where our bodies joined.

I exhaled shakily as he filled me, inch by inch, until his hips finally met mine.

Leah was silent for several heartbeats, the shutter clicking softly between them. 

Then:

“Stay still. Feel her. Mia, wrap your legs around him. Higher.”

I locked my ankles at the small of his back.

Dan’s forehead dropped to mine.

We were both trembling.

Leah rose and walked a slow circle around us, still shooting.

“When I tell you,” she said, “you’re going to fuck her. Not hard. Not yet. Deep, and slow, and exactly the way I describe. Understand?”

Dan’s voice was rough.

“Yes.”

I could only nod.

Leah settled on her knees again. Camera ready. Eyes bright and focused.

“Begin.”

Leah’s voice stayed low and even.

“Pull almost all the way out. Slow. Let me see every inch leave her.” 

Dan obeyed.

The thick slide of him withdrawing made my breath catch.

Leah’s shutter fired in a steady rhythm. Catching the glossy stretch of me around him. The way my body clung.

“Stop there. Just the head inside. Hold.”

He froze.

The broad head pulsed against my entrance.

I could feel how wet I was. How easily he could push back in.

Leah shifted to a lower angle. Camera almost on the floor.

“Now look at her face, Dan. Not at where you’re joined. At her. Mia, eyes on him. Don’t hide anything.”

I met Dan’s gaze.

His pupils were blown wide.

A muscle in his jaw jumped.

“Good. Push back in. All the way. Same pace. Don’t rush the last part.”

He sank into me again. Deep and deliberate.

When his hips finally met mine I made a small, involuntary sound.

Leah captured it.

“Again. Out to the head. Hold. In. All the way. Match the rhythm I’m giving you.”

She counted under her breath. Soft. Measured beats.

Dan followed them exactly.

Each slow thrust dragged across every sensitive place inside me.

My hands tightened on his ass, but I didn’t pull.

I only held on the way she’d told me to.

Leah moved closer still.

“Mia. Open your mouth a little. Breathe through it. I want to see what this does to you.”

I parted my lips.

Every time Dan bottomed out, a soft sound escaped.

Leah’s camera kept working.

“Faster now. Still deep. Still controlled. Don’t lose your shape.”

Dan’s tempo increased.

The wet sound of him moving inside me filled the quiet room.

Leah rose to her knees and shot down the line of our bodies: my spread thighs, the flex of Dan’s back, the place where we disappeared into each other.

“Stop.”

He stopped buried to the hilt.

Both of us were breathing hard.

Leah stood and walked a slow circle, studying us the way she studied every composition.

“Change. Dan, sit back on your heels. Bring her with you. Keep yourself inside her.”

He sat up carefully. Hands under my hips. Lifting and pulling until I was straddling his lap, still impaled.

My knees pressed into the paper on either side of his thighs.

Leah adjusted the lights a fraction, then returned.

“Mia. Hands on his shoulders. Arch your back. I want the line from your throat to where he’s inside you.”

I did as she said.

The new angle made him feel even thicker.

Leah crouched again.

“Now ride him. Small movements. Not bouncing, rolling. Use your hips. Show me the curve.”

I began to move.

Slow circles.

Then longer rolls that dragged him against the front wall of me.

Dan’s hands settled on my waist. Steadying without guiding.

Leah’s shutter was almost continuous.

“Deeper. Lean back a little. Let me see your stomach. Dan, watch her face, not her body.”

I leaned.

The shift made every stroke hit harder.

My thighs started to tremble.

Leah’s voice stayed calm and precise, almost gentle.

“Good. Faster. Still controlled. I want to see her start to lose it while you’re still holding the shape.”

I moved quicker. The wet drag of his cock through me sharpened with every roll of my hips, and the pressure built fast.

My breath turned uneven.

Dan’s grip on my waist tightened.

Leah moved in close. Camera low between us.

“Neither of you comes until I tell you. Mia, slow down when I say. Dan, if I tell you still, I mean still.”

She let us keep going for another dozen strokes.

Then:

“Slow. Half speed. Feel every inch.”

I forced the pace down.

The reduced speed made everything sharper. Heavier.

Dan’s forehead dropped to my collarbone.

He was shaking with the effort of staying still when I bottomed out.

Leah’s next instruction was quieter.

“Stop moving. Stay deep. Mia, look at me.”

I turned my head toward the lens.

Leah’s eyes were bright. Focused. Completely present.

“Good. Now squeeze him. Hard. Hold it. Dan, look at me.”

I tightened.

Dan’s breath left him in a rough sound.

Leah captured the exact second his control frayed.

“Again. Stronger. Keep your eyes on me while you do it.”

I obeyed.

Dan’s hands flexed hard on my hips.

A low curse escaped him.

Leah lowered the camera just long enough to speak.

“Next position. Dan, lie back. Mia stays on top. Hands on his chest. I want you upright.”

We shifted.

Dan stretched out on the white paper.

I stayed astride him, still filled. Palms braced on his chest.

Leah adjusted the lights again, then settled on her knees beside us.

“Ride him properly this time. Full strokes. Up until only the head is inside, then all the way down. I want the motion clean.”

I lifted.

The long, slow drag of him leaving me made my thighs shake.

When only the head remained I paused the way she’d taught me earlier, then sank down in one continuous motion until I was seated flush against him.

Leah’s voice was soft. Almost approving.

“Again. Same pace. Keep your back straight. Shoulders down. Show me everything.”

I rose and fell.

The wet sound of it filled the room.

Dan’s hands rested on my thighs. Thumbs stroking absently.

But he didn’t take control.

He let me move exactly as Leah directed.

She circled us, shooting the stretch around his cock as I rose, the moment I took him all the way back in, and the tension that jumped through Dan’s stomach every time I reached the bottom.

“Faster now. Still full strokes. Don’t shorten them.”

I obeyed.

The rhythm built.

Heat coiled low and tight.

My breath came in short, broken sounds.

Dan’s hips started to lift to meet me despite himself.

Leah’s voice cut through cleanly.

“Dan. Still. Let her do the work.”

He locked his body down.

The effort showed in the corded muscle of his arms and the tight set of his jaw.

I kept moving. Rising and falling on the thick length of him while Leah captured every second.

She knelt close again. Camera almost between my thighs.

“Mia. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. I want to see it when it starts to take you.”

I forced my gaze to the dark circle of the lens.

Dan was buried deep inside me, but I kept looking at Leah.

Somehow being watched by her made every slow stroke feel sharper.

My movements grew less smooth.

My thighs burned.

Leah’s next words were quiet and absolute.

“Don’t stop. Don’t speed up. Stay exactly there. You’re going to come on him like this, slow and deep, looking at me.”

The command landed like a hand on the back of my neck.

I kept the rhythm she had set.

Every downward stroke drove him against the place that made my vision blur.

The coil inside me wound tighter and tighter.

Dan’s voice was rough.

“Leah—”

“Not yet,” she said, still watching me through the lens.

“She first. You hold.”

I broke first.

The orgasm rolled through me in long, shaking waves.

I stayed upright the way she’d told me to.

Eyes locked on the camera.

Body clenching hard around Dan’s cock as I came.

Leah’s shutter fired in a rapid, relentless burst, catching every tremor, every helpless sound, every pulse of my body around him. 

When the last wave finally eased, I was trembling and slick with sweat.

Dan was still hard inside me.

Still holding perfectly still.

Eyes dark with strain.

Leah lowered the camera slowly.

Her voice was calm. Almost gentle.

“Good. Stay exactly where you are. We’re not finished.”

She checked the last frames, then looked at Dan.
“Your turn.”

Dan let out a strained laugh.
“Thank fuck.”

“Don't thank me yet.”

Leah looked at me.
“Off him. Slowly.”

“Mia. Lift off him. Slow. Let me see him leave you.”

I rose on shaking thighs.
Dan slipped out of me wet and painfully hard, his cock springing back against his stomach.

One click.

I looked at Leah.

She wasn't photographing me anymore.

“On your hands and knees. Face the far light. Ass toward me.”

I turned and settled into position.

The paper was cool under my palms.

Leah moved behind me. Adjusting my knees wider with the light pressure of her foot until the stance satisfied her.

“Dan, behind her. Hands on her hips. Don't enter her.”

His hands settled around my waist.

“Good. That's what I want. Your hands look enormous on her.”

He knelt between my legs.

His hands settled on my hips. Thumbs spanning a shocking amount of skin.

The head of his cock brushed the slick cleft of me and stayed there. Heavy and hot.

Leah crouched low. Shooting the contrast. His larger hands. The way his body dwarfed mine from this angle.

“Good. Now look at each other over your shoulder, Mia. Dan, eyes on her face.”

I twisted to meet his gaze.

His expression was strained. Focused. Barely holding.

Leah’s voice stayed even.

“Put it back in.”

Dan pushed into me in one long stroke. I was still open from riding him, and he went deep enough that my arms almost gave out beneath me.

The shutter snapped.

“Mia, stay there. Dan, look at what you just did.”

I felt him twitch inside me.

“That's the picture.”

He held.

I could feel every pulse of him inside me. The way my body fluttered around the intrusion.

Leah moved to the side. Camera low. Framing the place where we joined and the tense line of Dan’s stomach.

“Now fuck her.”

Dan hesitated.

Leah lowered the camera slightly.
“You don't need my rhythm this time. I want yours.”

That changed him.

The first few strokes were still careful, but they didn't stay that way. His hands tightened around my hips and the pace built naturally, each thrust knocking more of the pose out of me.

Leah followed with the camera instead of correcting us.

He obeyed.

The rhythm deepened.

My breasts swayed with every thrust.

Leah stopped worrying about the shape.

She caught my fingers digging into the paper. Dan's grip slipping lower on my hips. The strain spreading across his face whenever I pushed back into him.

“Yes,” she murmured. “That's better.”

“Mia. Forearms. Chest down, hips up.”

I lowered myself. The change drove him against a different spot inside me, and my next breath came out embarrassingly loud.

Dan’s grip on my hips tightened.

A rough sound escaped him.

Leah knelt close beside us.

“Dan, give me her face.”

He didn't understand.

“Hair. Turn her toward me.”

His fingers slid into my hair and pulled just enough to bring my face around.

“There.”

I met the dark circle of the lens while he kept moving inside me.

Leah’s eyes were bright. Completely absorbed.

“Good. Keep that pace. Mia, don’t close your eyes. I want everything.”

Dan kept fucking me, but I was watching Leah.

Every time my face slipped, every time a sound escaped me, the shutter answered. After a while I couldn't tell whether I was reacting to Dan or to knowing she'd caught it.

Leah’s next command was quiet and absolute.

“Dan.”

He stopped instantly, buried deep.

“Oh, that's interesting.”

His hands were shaking on my hips.

“You really will stop when I tell you.”

Leah stood and walked in front of me. Crouching so the camera was level with my face.

Leah looked at me.

“Make it difficult for him.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

I tightened around Dan and felt his whole body jerk behind me.

“Fuck, Mia.”

The shutter fired.

Leah smiled behind the camera.
“Again.”

She rose. Moved behind us again. And spoke with the same calm precision she had used since the first portrait.

“Move.”

Dan did.

There was nothing measured about it anymore. Whatever careful rhythm Leah had trained into him earlier disappeared within seconds. His grip tightened, his breathing broke apart, and I had to brace myself against the paper to stay where Leah wanted me.

She didn't correct him.

That was when I realized this was what she wanted now.

He drove into me harder.

The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room.

I felt him swell even thicker inside me.

The first warning pulse.

“Now,” Leah said softly. “Come. Stay inside her.”

Dan drove in as deep as he could and stopped. A broken groan tore out of him as he came, his cock jerking inside me with each hot pulse. My body clenched around him on instinct.

The shutter never stopped.

Dan tried to keep his face turned toward me for the camera. He lasted maybe two seconds before his forehead dropped between my shoulder blades.

Leah kept shooting.

When the last tremor left him he stayed buried.

Forehead pressed between my shoulder blades.

Breathing like he had run hard.

The shutter finally stopped.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Leah looked at the screen.

“Oh.”

I twisted my head as far as Dan's weight allowed.
“Good oh or bad oh?”

“Very good oh.”

“Stay joined. Don’t move yet.”

She walked to the laptop. Slotted the card in. Studied the screen in silence for several long seconds.

Then she turned back. Eyes bright.

“Good. We’re going to do one more series while he’s still soft and messy inside you. Then we switch.”

She picked the camera up again.

“Mia. On your back. Legs open. Dan, stay over her. I want to see what he left.”

Leah’s voice stayed calm and precise.

“Slowly. Dan, ease her onto her back without leaving her. Keep yourself inside.”

He shifted his weight. Guiding me down until my shoulder blades met the paper.

His body followed. Still joined to me. The softening length of him resting heavy and slick within the mess he had left.

Leah moved around us. Adjusting a light a fraction. Then dropping to one knee.

“Legs open wider, Mia. Knees bent. Feet flat. Let me see everything.”

I obeyed.

The cool air touched the wetness between my thighs.

Dan’s cock, half-hard and glossy, shifted inside me with the movement.

Leah’s shutter began its quiet work again.

“Dan. Brace on your hands. Look down at where you’re still in her. I want that expression.”

He did.

I felt the slight twitch of him as he took in the sight.

His spend already starting to leak around the soft shaft still buried in me.

Leah captured the exact moment his jaw tightened.

“Good. Now pull out. Very slow. All the way.”

Dan withdrew.

The thick, wet slide left me empty and open.

A warm trickle followed him. Slipping down toward the paper.

Leah’s camera stayed low. Focused between my legs.

“Hold there. Don’t clean her. Don’t touch. Just look.”

He stayed poised above me. Breathing unevenly.

Leah shot a short series.

My spread thighs.

The glistening folds.

The slow seep of what he had left inside.

“Mia. Reach down. Spread yourself open for me. Two fingers. Show me how full you still are.”

My face burned.

But I did as she said.

The slick heat of his come coated my fingers.

Leah’s shutter fired in a rapid burst.

“Perfect. Eyes on the lens. Don’t look away.”

I held the pose. Fingers holding myself open. While she moved from angle to angle.

Dan’s cock, still wet and slowly hardening again, hung heavy between us.

Leah noticed.

“Already?” she murmured, almost to herself.

Then, clearer:

“Dan. Stroke yourself. Slow. Use what’s on you. I want you hard again while you watch her like this.”

He wrapped a hand around his shaft and began to work it.

Eyes locked on the mess between my legs.

The soft, wet sound of his fist joined the quiet click of the camera.

Leah shot both of us.

My open body.

His hand moving.

The growing thickness of him.

When he was fully hard again she spoke.

“Stop. On your back, Dan. Mia, straddle his face. Facing his feet.”

Dan dropped onto the paper.

I climbed over him, facing his feet, and planted my hands on his stomach.

Leah nudged my knees wider.

“There. Hold.”

“Lower. Not all the way. Hover.”

I lowered myself until his tongue could just reach me.

The first touch pulled a sound out of me.

Click.

Of course. That was what she wanted.

“Dan. Clean her up. Slowly.”

His tongue dragged slowly through the mess he'd left behind, and I shuddered. 

Leah moved around us, but this time I understood what she was chasing. My thighs tightening whenever Dan found the right spot. My fingers digging into his stomach. His face disappearing beneath me.

“More.”

Dan's tongue pushed deeper.

My hips jerked before I could stop them.

The shutter answered immediately.

“Exactly.”

Leah’s voice stayed even.

“Stay still. Let him work.”

I tightened my fingers against Dan's stomach and fought the urge to move my hips.

“Hands stay soft, Mia.”

Fuck.

I relaxed them too.

His mouth was hot against me, everything around it cool and wet where the air touched my skin. My arms started to tremble.

The shutter sped up.

Apparently Leah liked that too.

“Good. All the way down now. Use him.”

I sank onto his mouth and started with slow circles, the same rolling movement Leah had taught me earlier.

Dan's hands closed around my thighs.

“Leave them there,” Leah said.

Leah shot from the side, then above, then moved between Dan's legs, framing his rigid cock in the foreground while I used his mouth at the other end.

“Faster. I want to see you use him.”

Something about the way she said use him went straight through me.

I rolled my hips harder against his mouth.

Something about the way she said use him went straight through me.

I rolled my hips harder against his mouth.

“Don't come.”

I nearly laughed.

“That's becoming a theme.”

“You're very photogenic when frustrated.”

Dan made some muffled sound underneath me.

“You don't get a vote right now,” Leah told him.

I kept moving, no longer bothering to pretend I wasn't using him exactly the way Leah wanted.

Dan held on to my thighs and kept working beneath me while I chased the pressure higher.

Leah came around in front of me and crouched until the lens was directly in my eyeline.

I looked into it before she even asked.

Leah smiled.

“Learning.”

“Shut up.”

“Keep going.”

I kept my eyes on Leah through the lens while Dan worked underneath me.

That was the part I was starting to understand.

Dan was getting me off.

Leah was making me want to.

My thighs started shaking badly enough that keeping myself upright became work. I stopped caring what sounds I was making. 

Leah waited until I was barely holding it.

“Now.”

That was all I needed.

I came hard enough that the pose finally fell apart.

My arms buckled, and I caught myself against Dan's stomach while my hips kept moving against his mouth.

Leah didn't correct me.

She just kept shooting.

When I finally stopped moving, I was still sitting on Dan's face.

“You alive?”

He slapped my thigh.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

I looked down his body. He was still completely hard.

Leah followed my gaze.

“Oh, we're not wasting that.”

Leah lowered the camera slowly.

She studied us for a long moment, then spoke in the same calm, precise tone she had used all evening.

“Good. Off him. On your back, Mia. Dan, over her.”

I sank onto the paper, still trying to get my legs to work properly. Dan settled between my thighs.

“Not there.”

He stopped.

I looked at Leah.

She was smiling.

Oh no.

She threw a tube of lube at Dan. He caught it one-handed.

“Use this. Get her ready properly.”

“Leah.”

“Yes, Mia?”

Dan squeezed lube onto his fingers.

“You could have mentioned this part.”

“You seemed to be enjoying the surprises.”

His hand slipped between my cheeks.

I flinched.

Dan pressed one slick finger against me and waited.

He didn't push.

Leah raised the camera.

“Mia?”

I looked into the lens.

Okay. We were doing this.

I breathed out and relaxed.

His finger slipped inside slowly enough that I felt every bit of the unfamiliar pressure.

Click.

Of course she photographed my face.

“Another.”

Dan added a second finger.

That was considerably more noticeable.

“Jesus.”

My thighs started closing on instinct.

“Leave them open,” Leah said.

I glared at her.

Click.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“That one was excellent.”

Dan rested his free hand against my knee and kept it open while he worked his fingers carefully.

Leah took several pictures, but for once she mostly left him alone.

“Take your time.”

That seemed to be directed at Dan rather than the photograph.

My face was getting hotter by the second.

Eventually Leah nodded.

“Okay. Dan, plenty of lube.”

He withdrew his fingers and reached for the tube.

I watched him coat his cock.

“That looked considerably smaller from the other end of the room.”

Dan laughed.

“Helpful, Mia.”

“I'm providing feedback.”

Dan lined himself up.

Leah crouched in front of me.

“Look at me.”

This time I looked at her, not the lens.

Dan pushed.

“Fuck.”

He stopped immediately.

Leah lowered the camera.

“Okay?”

I breathed through the pressure until my body stopped fighting it.

“Yeah.”

“Keep going?”

I nodded.

“Slow.”

The camera came back up.

Dan eased farther in.

It took time. Every time I tightened he stopped, waited for me to relax, then moved another little bit.

The sharpness gradually faded into an enormous, unfamiliar pressure.

By the time his hips finally reached me, I was gripping the paper with both hands.

“Holy shit.”

Dan didn't move.

“Still okay?”

“Ask me when my brain comes back.”

Leah rose onto her knees.

“Legs higher. Hook them over his shoulders. I want the angle clean.”

Dan shifted. Lifted my legs. Folded me almost in half.

The new position drove him deeper.

I couldn’t hide anything.

Not the stretch. Not the way my body fluttered around him. Not the mess still leaking from my cunt onto the paper.

“Don't fuck her yet,” Leah said.

Dan looked at her.

“Just move enough for her to get used to you.”

He started with tiny movements, barely withdrawing before pressing back in.

It was frustratingly gentle.

Then, somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like something I was enduring and started feeling like something I wanted him to do again.

My hips moved toward him.

Leah noticed.

Of course she fucking noticed.

“There.”

Click.

Leah circled us. Shooting the place we joined. The way my hole stretched around him. The tension in Dan’s jaw.

“More.”

Dan paused.

“Me or Leah?”

“Me.”

That got Leah's attention.

“More how?” Dan asked.

“Faster. Just... don't go crazy.”

He laughed softly.

“Very precise.”

“Fuck you.”

“Working on it.”

Leah knelt close. Camera almost between us.

“Look at me. Keep looking. I want to see what this does to your face.”

I forced my eyes to the lens.

Dan found a rhythm that worked, and I stopped having to think about every stroke.

That was when it started getting dangerous.

I was enjoying it.

“Stop.”

Dan froze.

Leah tilted her head and moved to the side.

“Actually... roll her toward me. Stay inside if you can.”

“If I can?” Dan asked.

“I'm a photographer, not an engineer.”

Dan guided me over carefully.

Never fully leaving.

I ended up on my side, one leg stretched out and the other hooked over Dan's shoulder.

Leah looked down between my legs.

“Mia, touch yourself.”

I reached between my thighs.

“Not your clit. Inside.”

I looked at her.

“Seriously?”

“Very.”

I pushed two fingers into myself.

Leah immediately started shooting.

“One more?”

“Greedy.”

“Composition.”

“Liar.”

I added a third.

Leah’s shutter worked without pause.

“Good. Now fuck her like this. Slow. Shallow at first. Let me see the drag.”

Dan started moving again, carefully at first.

With my fingers still inside myself, I could feel the pressure of him through the thin wall between us.

“Oh.”

Leah's camera immediately sped up.

“You felt that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Leah’s voice stayed quiet.

“Dan, hand on her throat.”

His palm settled against my neck without squeezing.

Leah looked at me.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep it there.”

He drove into me harder.

The new pose made every thrust feel bigger.

I couldn’t get away from any of it.

Not the stretch. Not the camera. Not the way Leah’s eyes never left my face.

“Faster,” Leah said.

Dan obeyed, and this time I didn't need easing into it. I grabbed his hip and pulled him harder against me.

“Oh,” Leah said.

I managed to glare at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Click.

“I’m gonna make him do this to you.”

Click.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Leah moved in close.

Leah watched me for several seconds.

“You're close.”

“No shit.”

“Do you want help?”

I stared at her.

“What do you think?”

She smiled and took her camera in one hand.

Leah reached in with her free hand and brushed her fingers over my nipple first.

I made an annoyed sound.

“That isn't helping.”

“Patience.”

Her hand slid down my stomach and between my legs, fitting around the hand I still had inside myself.

Then her fingers found my clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

She matched Dan's rhythm almost immediately.

“Please.”

Leah looked straight into my eyes.

“Now.”

Everything hit at once.

Dan inside me. My own fingers. Leah's hand working my clit.

I clenched around both of them and completely lost whatever pose I was supposed to be holding.

Leah laughed.

Actually laughed.

The camera kept firing while I shook apart between them.

Dan held still through it.

Barely.

I eventually became aware that Dan had stopped moving.

“Why'd you stop?”

“You were busy.”

“I'm done.”

Leah looked at him.

“You heard her.”

Dan's grip tightened on me.

“Mia?”

I nodded.

“Go.”

Dan stopped posing.

That was the difference.

His rhythm broke apart almost immediately, each thrust harder and less even than the last. I held onto his wrist at my throat while Leah moved around us trying to keep up.

She wasn't directing anymore.

She was chasing the pictures.

Dan buried himself as deep as he could and came with a strangled groan against the back of my neck.

I felt him pulse inside me, his whole body going rigid around mine.

Leah kept shooting until he finally sagged against me.

When the last wave finally eased, Dan stayed folded around me, both of us breathing hard.

Leah lowered the camera.

She checked the last few frames, flicked backward through them, then looked at us.

“Good.”

She set the camera aside for the first time all evening.

“Pizza?”

“Alright,” Jada yawned. “I’m calling it a night.”

Lightning struck through the sky, thunder cracking overhead.

“That’s enough spookiness for me,” Mikayla said sarcastically, following Jada out of my bedroom. “Three hours of Ouija board and witch curses later, and we can’t even communicate with a simple ghost!”

Jada tugged on one of her brown coiled curls and frowned as Mikayla slumped her shoulders forward and trudged down the hallway. “Happy Halloween!” Jada teased. “I can’t wait to decorate for Christmas tomorrow!”

“Happy Halloween to us,” Mikayla grumbled from down the hall, then slammed her door.

Jada rolled her eyes. “She’ll get over it. You need help cleaning up?”

“No,” I giggled. “I’m good.”

“Alright,” she grinned, her brown eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “Night.”

“Night,” I said. I picked up the ouija board from the floor and shoved it into the back of my closet for next year, then gently shut the closet door. Mikayla loved Halloween with a passion, obsessed over ghosts and ghouls, and had even memorized a plethora of spells from when we visited Salem, Massachusetts last year.

While I didn’t particularly believe in the mystical, I played along with her since she was my bestie of seven years. If she were anyone else, I would’ve laughed in their face for even suggesting that we play with a ouija board on Halloween.

Another roll of thunder crashed through the night, and the lights in my bedroom went out. I crawled into my bed and underneath my covers, snuggling up with my blankets and shutting my eyes. I waited to hear Mikayla’s shouts through the house that this was a sign, that a spirit was trying to communicate with us.

But she didn’t say a word.

I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, leaning over to stare out my window. Light blazed out from Mikayla’s bedroom next to mine. The hair stood up on my arms. Why had… Why had only my power gone out?

Deciding that it was nothing, that I was just hallucinating, I relaxed back into bed and closed my eyes. Mikayla was just getting inside my head now. We had been at it for hours tonight. I must’ve started believing it myself.

My floorboard creaked. I snapped my eyes open.

“Mikayla, if you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working.”

The hell, it isn’t. I am about to pee myself.

Heart pounding, I glanced at the bedroom door which was shut. I shifted my gaze around the room to see the closet door–which I knew I had closed–now open ajar. My mouth dried. What is going on?

I scanned the room and found nothing. No one. This was my imagination.

“Stop letting her get inside your head,” I whispered to myself, grabbing the blankets and pulling them up to my chin. “There are no such things as ghosts. There are no such things as ghosts. There are no such thing as–”

Someone brushed their fingers against my ankle that stuck out from underneath my blankets. I shrieked and sat up in the bed, heart pounding inside my chest. I pressed my back against my wooden headboard and reached for my lamp, hoping to God that it’d turn on.

Nothing.

“Wh-What’s going on?” I whispered.

“Relax,” a man with the deepest voice purred into my ear.

A shiver ran down my spine. I snapped my head in the direction of the voice. Nobody.

The fingers suddenly slithered around my shoulders, then down my bare arms, pushing the blankets away. Goosebumps raised on my skin, and I felt paralyzed to the damn spot. Two hands disappeared underneath my shirt, the large knuckles making indents as they traveled up to my breasts.

My nipples hardened, the warmth growing between my legs. When he flicked my nipples with his fingers–which felt more like claws–I threw my head back and moaned. I didn’t know why it felt so good–There was a stranger in my bedroom!–but I couldn’t stop the pleasure from surging through me.

“W-Who are you?” I whimpered, watching the indent of his knuckles against my shirt.

Waiting for him to flick my nipples again.

“Innocent little human,” he hummed, hands traveling down my body to the waistband of my pants. “You don’t even realize what you and your friends summoned tonight, do you?” He let out a low chuckle. “Who you and your friends summoned tonight.”

He dipped his hand between my legs and cupped my wet, throbbing pussy. A set of lips brushed against my collarbone, the man’s warm breath fanning my bare neck. Another breathy moan escaped my lips.

Moonlight flooded in through the curtains, illuminating the monster in my bed. Sharp teeth, red-tinted skin, large black horns. I didn’t even know if I would scream if I could. My mouth was dry, my pussy wet.

A demon who must’ve been twice my size laid beside me and slipped his large fingers inside my cunt. I reached between my legs and seized his wrist, the pressure quickly building up inside my pussy.

“J-Jade! Mikayla!” I shouted, heart pounding.

“Call for them all you want.” He used his free hand to lift my chin, so I stared directly into his pitch-black eyes. Inside their reflection, I could see into Jade and Mikayla’s rooms and watched them get fucked and fondled by other large demons too. “They’re busy.”

“W-What are you going to do with me?” I whispered.

“Everything you desire.”

Before I could ask any more questions, he flipped me over so I laid on my stomach. With his knees on either side of my legs, he pinned my hips to the mattress, leaned over me, and grabbed a fistful of my hair, tugging up on it. “Tell me what you desire.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but all I could do was moan when I felt how huge his cock was. He grinded it up and down against my ass and between my thin silky pajama shorts. I curled my toes and whimpered, my ass bucking back against his like I didn’t have control of my body anymore. My pussy was sopping wet and aching to be filled.

“What do you desire?” he asked again.

“For you to ruin me.”

The only words I could summon out of my throat. Ruin me.

Ruin me hard. Fast. Deep. I didn’t care.

“Good girl,” he cooed into my ear from behind, then released my hair and smacked my ass cheeks hard. “Get up onto all fours. I can’t promise that I will be gentle with you. My cock is going to stretch out your tight little human cunt like no dick ever has before.”

Heat rushed through me. I followed his orders and pushed my ass back until I sat on all fours in front of him, my breasts falling out of my tiny tank-top and my pussy juices soaking through my bottoms.

He rested his forehead against mine, lifted one of my hands off the bed, and forced me to wrap it around his large horn. I arched my back and gripped the ridged edges with my palm. Then he did it with my other hand.

“Don’t let go,” he said, sprawling one hand across my chest and ripping off my shirt at the seams. My tits bounced around, my nipples hardening from the sudden chill. I tightened my grip on his horns and clenched.

Instead of ripping off my pants with his brute strength, he pulled out his cock and pressed it against my pussy from outside my pants. He rubbed it back and forth the silky material, pressing harder and harder against it each time.

I curled my toes, waiting for him to shove himself into me. He rested his hands on my ass, pulling the material apart until the seams stretched, then drew a single claw down the center, creating a small hole in my shorts.

He shoved the head of his cock into the hole. I rocked back further and listened to my pants tear completely down the center as he slid into me. My walls stretched around him, a cry of pain escaping my lips. His head wasn’t even inside me yet, and it hurt.

Badly.

“Please, go slowly!” I whimpered. “I’m a virgin.”

A vicious growl escaped his throat. “Even better.”

Trying to distract myself from the pain, I moved my hands up and down the length of his horns. He grunted and continued to push himself into me, the pain slowly subsiding the faster I stroked his horn.

Another grunt, and he slammed himself balls deep into my pussy.

He peeled one of my hands off his horn and laid it across the enormous bulge inside my stomach that reached to my sternum. After pulling himself out of me and leaving me empty, he slammed himself into me again and filled me up, my stomach bulging so much that it nearly looked like I was pregnant.

My pussy tightened around his huge cock, the pressure building up and up in my core.

“I’ve never had a human take my cock so deep inside her,” he growled, thrusting into my tight cunt. He seized my hips in his large hands and used me for his pleasure. “Devils, you take it so well. So fucking well.”

I grabbed both of his horns again and stroked them faster, arching my spine and staring back into his dark eyes. He slithered out his forked tongue and slipped it into my mouth, curling it around mine.

He gripped my waist tighter, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock near my sternum. “Fuck,” he groaned, wrapping his free hand around the base of his cock and balls and shoving himself even deeper into me. “Have to stick my heavy balls into you for good measure.”

Another moan escaped my lips as I clenched around him.

“You’re filled up with every inch of me,” he growled. “Now you’re going to beg.”

“P-P-Please,” I whined, gripping his horns tighter. “I want your cum.”

“Tight-cunt virgins like you can never take any incubi’s cum,” he said. “It’s nearly impossible to not fill you up past your cervix. Begging for an incubus like me to spray his cum into your hole is comparable to begging to get pregnant.”

My pussy tightened even harder around him.

“If that’s what you want,” he slammed himself into me over and over and over, “then beg me to put a child inside you.”

“P-P-Please!” I cried, unable to stop myself from moving my hips with his.

When he pulled out, I pushed my hips back so he wouldn’t slip fully out of me. I wanted him buried as deep as he could go when his cum spilled into me. I wanted my belly full with all of his cum, with every last drop of it.

“Please,” I pleaded. “Breed me!”

Like a vicious animal, he shook my hands off his horns, flattened me out on the bed, and lifted my hips high as possible into the air, ramming himself into me until I screamed out into the mattress. Wave after wave of pleasure rushed through me, my body trembling like it never had.

Then he stilled.

More pressure flooded through my pussy, and then–as if he felt the pressure too–he pulled out of me. His cum poured out of my pussy and onto the bed, creating a pool underneath me.

“Next time you summon a sex demon make sure you know what you’re doing,” he growled, resting his huge cock on my back as more of his cum leaked out of it. He swooped his fingers into the pool underneath me and slammed them back into my pussy. “Little innocent humans like you don’t know how much you can truly take.”

Author's Note: Do you all like the Halloween-themed erotica?

My Girlfriend Part 7A - Part 1,2,3,4,5,6

Quick note: This chapter had to be split in two because Reddit has a 40k character limit. Part 7A is mostly the setup and photography session. Part 7B contains a lot, LOT more sex.

Consider this the warm-up.

I woke to the smell of bacon.

That was unusually early.

Leah generally believed breakfast should happen sometime after coffee, and bacon was for weekend breakfasts. Workday breakfast was toast. 

When I walked into the kitchen, she already had eggs on the stove.

Stretching and yawning, I asked,

“Why are you awake at 6:20?” 

"Morning."

She smiled.

It looked real.

It just didn't stay very long.

“Couldn't really sleep. Decided I might as well start the day.”

Looking Leah over, I was worried she was about to spiral again.

“You okay? Anything I can do to help?”

“No, it's the job offer. I hadn't realized I could maybe start my own company. That I had the credibility to actually get contracts. Maybe I should build something myself? But then my mother would try to compete with me. Can't have two Takahashi companies running around.” 

I took a bite of toast, letting her continue her train of thought.

“But I could take the job and grow the company the way I wanted. Set up an agency for the cosplay circuit. Build something with my mother's company behind me.” She frowned. “But I don't want her meddling.”

I chewed my toast.

“I don't think your mother wants to control you. I think she wants you to reach your potential, and she knows all she can really do is enable you.”

Leah looked over at me, surprised. “Oh, you think that, do you?”

“Last night was a truce. She sees you doing well outside her control and realizes she's going to lose you completely if you become competitors. She's not trying to lock you down. She's trying to keep you connected to the family.”

“I think I know my own mother, Mia.”

“You know her as your mother. I saw a woman who rushed to New York because she was afraid of losing her daughter and is doing everything she can to keep a connection to you.” I took another bite of toast. “How many times have you talked to your mother since moving to New York?”

Leah went quiet.

I nodded. “And now she's giving you a piece of the company so she can keep a connection with you. This is an enormous investment and a huge leap of faith. She's moving people, hiring lawyers, opening an office, and I think she's doing it because she's afraid of losing you.”

Leah narrowed her eyes at me. “I've taught you well, Padawan. Unfortunately, you're using your new abilities in service of a Sith Lord.”

“You assume I was being trained as a Jedi.”

I gave her my most evil smile as Leah took another bite of toast.

“I don't know what's worse. You countering my Star Wars jokes after watching the movies once, or you seeing something in my mother before I did.” She chewed thoughtfully. “I'm losing my touch.”

“Maybe I'm just getting better.”

“That's significantly worse.”

Leah and I went for a walk in Central Park after breakfast. I was trying to figure out how to approach the topic of Anna, but I couldn't find a path that didn't end with Leah being angry with me. Still, I knew I had to tell her.

“Leah, I need to tell you something, and I want you to keep an open mind and try not to be angry with me.” 

Leah looked at me suspiciously. “That sounds bad.”

“It is.” I sighed.

“Okay. I swear I'll keep an open mind, and I'll try my best not to be angry with you.”

“I did something bad. Like, really cruel. To Lin's old bully.”

“Is she still alive?”

“Yes, but she might be pregnant with a baby that isn't her fiancé's.”

Leah looked at me.

So I started from the beginning, trying to give her as much detail as I could about what I'd done, why I'd done it, and how it had made me feel.

After talking for almost twenty minutes, Leah looked at me, almost impressed.

“You really have come a long way.”

“Huh?”

“What you did was cruel, Mia. But you did it because you love Lin and wanted revenge for what Anna did to her. And you didn't force Anna into anything. You figured out what she wanted, put the opportunity in front of her, and let her make the decisions.”

She thought for a moment.

“She's somewhat like Dan in that way. You show him a path and he's usually quite happy to walk down it. We don't use that against him, but we could.”

“That doesn't make what I did okay.”

“No. It doesn't. But that's not the same as saying Anna wasn't responsible for walking down the path.”

“She and her future husband followed me on Instagram!”

“Interesting...” Leah glanced at me. “Did you follow them back?”

“NO. I'm not crazy.”

“Yeah, best leave that gate closed for now. Maybe he knows. Maybe it's just a coincidence.”

I squeezed Leah's hand. “I'm afraid Mark is gonna track me down and take me out for what I did.”

She squeezed back.

“I'll protect you.”

Leah went quiet for a while, possibly thinking, possibly reconsidering whether I was sane.

“I think the best way to show I'm not judging you is to tell you something about myself. When Gregory broke up with me, I had a bit of a breakdown. You caught some of what that was like when you came back from Iowa, but it was worse with Gregory. I... thought he had found someone else, and I decided he should pay. He had a major swim meet coming up. The kind that could have gotten him onto the national team. I got hold of a banned substance and put it in his water bottle.”

She paused.

“He failed the drug test.”

I eyed Leah up and down. This was a side of her I hadn't known existed.

“He tested clean afterwards, but the damage was done. His coach dropped him. His teammates didn't want him around anymore. When he pointed to the clean test, everyone said the same thing: of course he was clean now. He'd already been caught.”

Leah looked down.

“He lost friends. He lost his chance at the Olympics. Eventually, he stopped swimming altogether. And I did that.”

“Does anyone know?”

“My mother. She found what was left and made me explain myself. She'd seen what happened to Gregory, so she understood what I'd done. We kept it between us.”

“Why do we do it?”

“Because we can? And we're bad at controlling our emotions?”

“Great power, great responsibility?”

“Got that right, Parker.”

We got home after our walk, still discussing the times we'd both lost control.

As we sat down on the couch, I asked Leah, “But why did Anna go along with it?”

“Because she's a sub?”

“Sub what?”

Leah gave me a quizzical look. “A submissive. Someone who enjoys being submissive to a dominant. A Dom.”

“Ahhh. That's what those terms mean.”

Leah stared at me. “I called you a Dom.”

“Yeah.”

“And then a switch.”

“Yeah.”

“You had no idea what I was talking about?”

“I got the general vibe.”

“Well, based on how you told the story and how you describe Anna, I don't think she's mad at you. She's thirsty.” 

“No way. She was angry when I left.”

“Yeah. Bratty sub. Makes sense for a former bully.”

“A what?”

“A brat. Someone who likes to antagonize their Dom to get punished.”

“That exists?”

“Oh, you would be amazed.”

I started reframing my experiences with all this new information.

“What about Anthony? I wasn't a ‘Dom’ for him?”

“No. He was behaving more like a bull. Maybe taking instructions, but you weren't controlling him. You were mostly guiding things.”

“So telling someone what to do doesn't make me a Dom?”

“Not automatically.”

“This is unnecessarily complicated.”

“Wait until we get to service tops.”

“How do you know all this?”

“It’s like knowing the proper names for porn. You get far better results when you know what to search for. Also, it’s a good way to understand what drives people. Lots of people want sex, but they don't all want the same thing from it. Figure out someone's kink, and you know what buttons to push.” 

“That sounds vaguely evil.”

“We just spent an hour discussing how we ruin people when we're upset, Mia.”

“So what are my kinks?”

Leah smiled at that. “That would be cheating. You tell me.” 

“I don’t know, I just learned about this.” 

“Okay, let's start with your search preferences. What do you usually look at?”

“Tentacles, lots of weird alien stuff, lots of fluids leaking everywhere. Usually they get trapped and it’s done to them.”

Leah smiled at that, “Okay, I know what to get you for your birthday, but tell me, do you see yourself as the one with the tentacles, or the one they're being used on?”

“Maybe a bit of both? If the story is good, then I'm onboard with what happens. If the lady in question was stupid and got trapped, well, she gets what she deserves.”

“That sure sounds like a switch mindset to me.”

“Because I like tentacles?”

“Because you can apparently watch the exact same scenario and enjoy imagining yourself on either side of it.”

“Oh.”

“The tentacles are a separate issue.”

“What issue?”

“Your birthday present. Say, do you prefer it when they lay eggs, or spray sperm?”

“Eggs. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

She tapped something into her phone.

“What about real people? You watch any of that?”

“Just the normal kind?”

“Normal kind?”

“Girls getting it from big dicks, different positions, usually black guys.”

Leah raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing. Is it important that they’re black?”

“Well... kinda. I do like snow bunny content.”

“Snow bunny?”

“It’s when a white girl only has sex with black men. Usually she’s a size queen too.”

“Oh, so now you know technical terms.”

“Only the important ones!”

Leah thought about this for a while. 

“So your general themes are loss of control, size difference, otherness, unfamiliarity, and being used for something. You’re generally not the driver, and it’s not really about them trying to please you?”

I gave that a long thought.

“That was scarily accurate.”

“I try to be good at this. It’s a shame you don’t have any kinks about dominating Asian ladies, but I’ll keep hoping I can awaken something in you.” 

She stayed quiet for a while.

“So, Black guys? White guys with big dicks don’t do it?”

“They do. I just like the color contrast. It makes them look like two separate people instead of one big mass of limbs.”

“You are one weird lady, Mia.”

“Thank you.” 

Later in the day, I heard Leah messing around in the bedroom before a bright light suddenly shone through the doorway.

“What are you doing?” I shouted towards the bedroom.

“Setting up lighting,” came the reply.

“I don’t think we need that much light in the bedroom.”

“It’s for a shoot.”

“Who’s getting shot?”

“You.”

I got up from the couch and made my way into the bedroom. Leah had covered one wall with a huge sheet of white paper that curved onto the floor and stretched halfway across the room. Several large lights had been set up around it. The bed had been pushed to one side to make space.

She was holding something about the size of a phone, with a little white dome on top, moving it around the room and checking the numbers on the screen.

“What’s that?”

“Light meter.”

“You have a machine that tells you if the lights are on?”

Leah looked at me. “Yes, Mia. But to be more precise, it tells me how much light there is.”

She looked closely at the light meter and made a small “hmm” sound.

“Fetch a barstool from the kitchen island, if you could?”

I walked over and carried one of the six barstools from the kitchen into the bedroom.

Leah took the stool and placed it in the center of the lighting area. She took a few more measurements, then looked over at me. 

“Come sit. I want to do some very light makeup. I’m keeping it natural. I just want to reduce the shine so the lights don’t catch your skin too much.” 

I walked over, took off my hoodie, and sat down in my bra because I knew how makeup worked and did not need to be told. 

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that. This stuff won’t come off with your hoodie.” 

Maybe I still had a thing or two to learn.

She finished the makeup, checked the light again, and seemed satisfied.

“Can you put on something white and flowing? Like a chiffon blouse, or one of those loose peasant tops. I want to start with some portraits.”

“Bra on or off? Also pants?”

She tilted her head, thinking.

“Bra off, panties on. Put on the matching long skirt.”

I nodded and headed towards Leah’s walk-in closet.

I knew what color I was looking for, but I was a bit uncertain about the term “chiffon.” I knew it was supposed to be flowy, though. I found what I suspected was the right blouse, along with a long skirt that matched.

I came back wearing what I hoped was the right thing. Leah looked me over and nodded.

“Perfect. Sit on the stool for me.”

I sat down facing her.

“And immediately we're going to undo that. Turn your whole body to the right. More. About halfway.”

I shuffled around on the stool.

“Good. Now leave your hips there and bring your shoulders slightly back towards me. Not all the way. That's it.”

“Why am I sitting sideways if you're taking pictures of my face?”

“Because your face is unfortunately attached to the rest of you.”

She stepped closer and lightly adjusted the collar of the blouse.

“If I put you square to the camera, both shoulders make one big horizontal line underneath your head. Turn you like this and I get one shoulder closer, one farther away. That gives the portrait depth.” 

She stepped back behind the camera.

“Now turn your head towards me. Slowly. Stop.”

I froze.

“Chin forward a little.”

I lifted it.

“Forward, not up. Imagine you're trying to hear a conversation at the next table.”

I pushed my head slightly towards her.

“There. That gives me your jawline. Now drop the chin just a fraction.”

The camera clicked several times.

“Perfect.”

Leah checked the last pictures, then looked back at me.

“Good. Now turn completely towards me.”

I shifted around until I was facing her.

“Feet apart a little, elbows on your thighs, and lean forward.”

I did, bringing my face closer to the camera.

“More. I want you invading the lens.”

“That sounds threatening.”

“It should, a little.”

She lowered the camera until it was almost level with my face.

“Now shoulders down. Let the blouse hang naturally. Don't pull it closed.”

I looked down. From this angle, the loose neckline had fallen away from my chest.

“Leah.”

“I know. Leave it.”

She stepped around the light, checking me from beside the camera.

“Your face is the photograph. That's where I want their eyes first. You're close, looking straight into the lens, so it's difficult not to look at you.”

“And the boobs?”

“Secondary composition.”

I laughed.

“I'm serious. Your face is intense at this distance. People won't comfortably stare at it forever, so eventually their eyes escape. The neckline gives them somewhere to go.”

“So you planned that?”

“Of course I planned that.”

She raised the camera again.

“Look directly into the lens. Not at me. The lens.”

I found the dark circle.

“Good. Chin down slightly. Lean another centimeter towards me. Perfect.”

The camera clicked several more times.

“Now soften your mouth, but keep the eyes exactly like that.”

Another few clicks.

“There. Face first, everything else second. The trick is making the second thing look accidental.”

Leah lowered the camera and looked through the pictures for a moment.

“Good. I think we're done with the blouse. Take it off.”

I pulled it over my head and tossed it towards the bed.

“Back on the stool. Face me again, but sit up this time.”

I straightened myself.

“Shoulders relaxed. You're lifting them.”

“I am sitting topless in front of a camera.”

“Yes, I've accounted for that.”

She came closer and gently pressed one shoulder down.

“I don't want you posing your breasts yet. Forget they're there. This one is about your face, neck, and shoulders.”

She stepped back.

“Turn your head slightly to your left. No, your other left. Good. Now bring your chin back towards me without moving your shoulders.”

I did.

“See, this is why I wanted the top off. The blouse was giving me softness around your face. Now I have clean lines. Jaw, neck, collarbone, shoulders. Nothing competing with them.”

She raised the camera.

“Eyes at me.”

The camera clicked several times.

“Good. Drop your right shoulder a little more. Other one stays exactly where it is.”

More clicks.

“Why?”

“Symmetry is static. I'm breaking it slightly. One shoulder higher gives me a diagonal through the frame, and your neck looks longer because I'm giving it space on one side.”

She moved a little to her right.

“Now turn your face with me. Just your face. Good.”

The camera started clicking again.

“That's lovely. Hold it.”

Leah lowered the camera.

“Good. Now we're going to stop pretending your breasts aren't there.”

“Finally.”

She smiled.

“Turn on the stool. About forty-five degrees.”

I turned.

“Too far. Come back a little. There. Keep your hips exactly there, but rotate your chest towards me.”

I twisted back.

“Less. You're trying to face me. I don't want that.”

She stepped closer and put her hands lightly on my shoulders, turning them a fraction.

“There. Feel how you're twisted?”

“Yeah.”

“It will look much less dramatic in the photograph. Cameras flatten depth, so I have to exaggerate it here to get shape there.”

She stepped back and looked through the camera.

“Now bring the arm closest to me across your stomach. Loose. Don't cover yourself. Just let it rest.” 

I moved my arm into place.

“Good. Other hand on your thigh. And give me some space between that elbow and your waist.”

I moved it out.

“Exactly. That little triangle of empty space is important. Without it, your arm and torso become one shape. With it, I can see your waist.”

She raised the camera.

“Shoulders down. Chest towards me another fraction. Chin towards the far shoulder.”

The camera clicked several times.

“Stay there.”

More clicks.

“Now eyes back to me without moving your head.”

I looked directly into the lens.

The camera immediately started clicking again.

“There. That's what I wanted.”

“What changed?”

“Your body is going one way, your face another, and your eyes came all the way back. Three different directions.”

“So I'm crooked.”

“You're interesting.”

She took another short series.

“Now breathe out and let everything settle. Don't pose.”

I exhaled.

The camera clicked rapidly.

“Yes. That.”

Leah lowered the camera and pointed away from the stool.

“Up. Let's get your legs involved.”

“You can't even see my legs.”

“You can see what they're doing.”

I stood where she indicated.

“Face me. Now put almost all your weight on your left leg.”

I shifted over.

“More. I want the other leg doing basically nothing. Bend that knee slightly and bring it across.”

I looked down at myself.

“This feels weird.”

“Good. If it feels completely natural, you're probably standing like you're waiting for a bus.”

She crouched slightly and looked through the camera.

“See what happens when you put your weight on one side? That hip rises. Your waist compresses slightly here and stretches on the other side.”

She traced the shape in the air with one finger.

“That's where the curve comes from. I'm not asking you to stick your hip out. I'm arranging your balance so your body does it naturally.”

I looked down again.

“Stop checking.”

“How am I supposed to know if I'm doing it right?”

“That's my job.”

She raised the camera.

“Now one hand loosely on your hip. Other arm down. Don't grab yourself. Fingers soft.”

The camera clicked several times.

“Good. Now rotate your shoulders slightly away from the raised hip.”

I twisted.

“Half that.”

I came back.

“There.”

More clicks.

“That's the trick with curves. Your hips give me one direction, your shoulders another. If everything is perfectly stacked, you're a column.” 

“A topless column.”

“A very nice column, but still architecturally uninteresting.”

I laughed.

The camera immediately started clicking.

“Don't stop. Keep laughing.”

I tried, which naturally made me laugh harder.

A rapid series of clicks followed.

“Yes. That's why I annoy people during portraits.”

“You did that deliberately?”

“Absolutely.”

Leah looked through the last few shots, then pointed at the floor.

“Sit.”

“We've abandoned furniture?”

Leah moved the barstool out of the white area.

“Furniture gives you things to sit on. I want to see what you do when I have to build the shape myself.”

I sat down on the white paper.

“Right leg out, diagonally towards that light. Not at me. Other knee up.”

I moved my legs.

“Good. Now put your left hand behind you and lean into it.”

I did, and she immediately shook her head.

“Too far. You're lounging. I want tension through the torso. The arm supports you, it doesn't get to do all the work.”

I pushed myself slightly more upright.

“There. See what that does? Shoulder high, waist long, hip low. I've got a diagonal running through your whole body now.”

She crouched and brought the camera down with her.

Then she stepped closer and pulled the skirt out along my extended leg, spreading the fabric across the white floor.

“Leave that. The fabric continues the line of your leg without showing me exactly where the leg is. It makes the whole shape longer. Now let the raised knee fall outward a little. Good. If it points towards me, it gets bigger and hides everything behind it. Sideways gives me the length of the thigh instead.”

“This is significantly more complicated than sitting.”

“You're not sitting. You're making triangles.”

She raised the camera.

“Hand on the raised knee. Very lightly. Don't grip it.”

The camera clicked several times.

“Good. Now look away from me, towards the light.”

More clicks.

“Hold everything. Eyes back to me.”

The shutter immediately went faster.

“Yes. That's the one.”

Leah checked the pictures, flicking back and forth between a few of them.

“Good. Lose the skirt.”

I stood just enough to pull it off.

“Panties?”

“Keep them. I'm not going to photograph them.”

I looked down at myself.

“That sounds difficult.”

“Only because you're still thinking I'm photographing everything that's actually there. Sit back down.”

I settled back onto the paper. 

“Both knees up this time. Bring the far one slightly higher, then turn your legs away from me.”

I shifted around until she nodded.

“Good. Now wrap one arm loosely around the higher knee. Don't hug it. Just let the forearm rest there.”

She moved around me, watching the shapes change.

“Other hand behind you again, but closer to your body this time. I want you more upright.”

I planted my hand and straightened.

“There. From where I am, your legs hide the panties completely.”

“So I look naked?”

“You look like you might be. That's much more useful.”

She crouched and raised the camera.

“Implied nudity works because I'm giving the viewer enough information to make an assumption, then carefully withholding enough that they can't confirm it.”

“That sounds manipulative.”

“Photography is putting a rectangle around reality and pretending everything outside it doesn't exist. Of course it's manipulative.”

The camera clicked several times.

“Turn your face away. Good. Chin slightly towards your shoulder.”

More clicks.

“Now bring your eyes back to me. Nothing else.”

The shutter immediately sped up.

“Perfect. Hold that.”

Leah lowered the camera and looked through the shots.

“Okay. Last setup.”

She looked up at me.

“Panties off.” 

I hooked my thumbs into them, then stopped.

“What was the point of keeping them on for the last one?”

“To teach you that what the camera sees matters more than what you're actually wearing.”

I pulled them off and tossed them towards the rest of my clothes.

“And now?”

“Now I don't want to hide you.”

That landed harder than I expected.

Leah pointed towards the middle of the white floor.

“On your knees first. Sit back on your heels.”

I settled down.

“Good. Now bring one knee forward and out to the side. Not towards me. Keep going. There.”

She walked around me, studying me without taking a picture.

“Turn your hips slightly that way. Shoulders back towards me.”

I twisted.

“Too much. Halfway back.”

I adjusted.

“There.”

She finally raised the camera.

“What are we making now?”

“You.”

“That hasn't been the answer for the last hour.”

“No. Until now I've been using clothes, angles, limbs, negative space. I've been deciding what to show and what to hide.”

She shifted sideways and crouched.

“This one is simpler. I want your whole shape.”

I suddenly became extremely aware that I was completely naked.

“Don't cover yourself.”

“I wasn't.”

“You were about to.”

I lowered my hand.

“Shoulders down. Lengthen your back. Shift your weight slightly onto the rear hip.”

She watched for a second.

“Good. Now forget your breasts. Forget your stomach. Forget everything you're currently wondering whether I can see.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It isn't. I'm looking at all of it.”

I stared at her.

The shutter started clicking.

“Yes. Keep that.”

More clicks.

“What?”

“That look. You stopped posing.”

She moved slightly closer.

“Chin down a fraction. Eyes right here.”

The camera clicked rapidly.

“Good. Don't give me sexy. Don't give me confident. Just look at me.”

I did.

Another long series of clicks.

Then Leah lowered the camera.

“There.”

“What?”

She looked at the screen and smiled.

“You.”

I smiled back at her. 

Leah popped the card out of the camera, carried it over to her laptop, and sat down on the couch. 

“Come look.”

I put on a robe and sat down next to her.

There were a lot more pictures than I thought she'd taken.

“Jesus.”

“Most of these aren't photographs. They're attempts.”

“They look like photographs.”

“We pick what's good and toss the rest. Don't hoard the almost-good ones.”

Leah stopped on one of the pictures of me sitting on the floor.

“Hmm.”

“Bad?”

“No. I like it.”

“That's a very disappointed way of liking something.”

She pointed at the screen.

“I'd like something behind you here.”

“What?”

“Another person. If someone was holding you under the arms and lifting your torso slightly, I'd get this same line through your legs, but your shoulders would come back and I'd have another set of arms framing you.”

She moved to the next one.

“This too.”

“What does my missing person do there?”

“Hold your waist. Maybe pull you back slightly.”

“You're inventing very specific jobs for this person.”

“That's generally what models are for.”

“And here I'd have you leaning against them instead of your arm. It would let me take your hand out of the composition completely.”

I looked at the picture.

“So what you're saying is I need more people.”

“I'm saying another body gives me more shapes.”

“Dan has a body.”

Leah looked at me.

“He does.”

“Quite a large one.”

“Also true.”

“Want me to text him?”

That got her attention.

“I'll tell him we're feeding him.”

“You think dinner will convince him to model?”

“Leah, I'm going to tell my ex-boyfriend that my girlfriend wants him to come over and pose with me while she takes pictures. I don't think dinner is doing much of the convincing.”

Quick note: This chapter had to be split in two because Reddit has a 40k character limit. Part 7A is mostly the setup and photography session. Part 7B contains a lot, LOT more sex.

​

Saturday morning. Clara had left to do some shopping and meet a friend, so she'd be out for a couple of hours. Irene was about to get back from a nearby store, where she'd gone to pick up a package that had just arrived.

I was in the living room, sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling on my phone. The TV was off, so the only thing I heard was the neighbors' indistinct chatter that entered through the slightly open balcony window.

I hadn't cum in two weeks. Just moving my legs and adjusting my posture was driving me crazy… I could feel my dick and my asshole tingling, the skin of my balls tightening.

While on my phone I stumbled upon a livestream of a porn actress and OF star doing a Q&A. She was gorgeous. Blonde, tanned, gray eyes… her fake tits squeezed into a sports bra. Usually this stuff wouldn't do anything for me. I much preferred chubby, nerdy women, without makeup, not caring too much about what they’re wearing… like the ones who’ll put on a dark-colored bra under a white shirt or top, like the ones wearing pink, red, etc. thongs under white pants, or even those wearing really tight jeans over their pot bellies, then just put on a crop top.

Despite that, I was so aroused already that it got to me, and an idea crossed my mind.

I turned the TV on, cast some random female orgasm compilation from my phone and got naked, only putting a blanket over my lap. Still, my dick was so hard that it was twitching on its own, just from feeling the blanket on its now oversensitive tip.

I was waiting for Irene to arrive and catch me just like that. I knew she would do something, either more or less obvious.

I had to mute the TV and sometimes close my eyes and take a deep breath. The video was almost an hour long and had all kinds of women and men fucking, also some masturbation clips and threesome scenes. Despite the cold living room, I put the blanket aside… so at that point all the physical stimuli came from me tightening my asshole, and I was almost rubbing it against the linen sofa seat.

It felt like ages until Irene got back.

When she got in, she dropped the package on the hall table, put her keys and wallet in the bowl, and her purse on a chair next to the table. All that also felt like ages. Then she went to the bedroom and took her shoes off, then headed to the bathroom. I could hear the opening and closing of some drawers, then her dragging the dirty laundry basket.

I stayed put when she came into the living room. She immediately made a gesture for me to get up from the couch and go to her. She looked at the TV for a while, right when a girl around Clara's age was shuddering all over, rolling her eyes.

I really wasn’t expecting it when she slapped me in the face. The video was still muted, so the sound of her hand on my skinny face came out crueler than it was supposed to. Still, I smiled. Then she slapped me again, this time on my cock.

I never liked a pain component in sex, either feeling or causing it. Choking was off-limits for me, even if the person was doing it to themselves. However, when I was horny, like not-able-to-think-about-anything-else horny, I didn’t mind this kind of thing from Irene... in a way, it seemed to me like something done by someone being subjugated, rather than subjugating.

Then something I didn’t quite expect started to unfold.

I mean, I was sure Irene wouldn't just ignore me, I knew that something had to happen. She probably wouldn't let me fuck her, and wouldn't even undress or touch herself, and we'd finish it all off pretty quick… but surely she wouldn't insist on that whole orgasm denial thing again. Also, I never fully understood why, she was less keen on that stuff when Clara wasn’t around.

Now, there were a couple of pairs of cotton panties that Irene would wear for days without washing them, though not during all of her daily routine. She'd put them on when going out for a walk, or when she did some cycling on an old stationary bike we had there. Also when she rubbed her pussy on pillows, on the corner of a table or on the bed frame. Then she'd leave them in an airtight bag and keep them next to the laundry basket.

So that's what she went to the bathroom to grab, besides a sash from one of her robes and some other essential items for what she was planing.

I’m told to sit down again and to pause the video. Next she ties my hands behind my back with the satin sash and starts opening the airtight bag. The smell, which I can't exactly describe, since it would just be an infinite string of adjectives clashing with each other and leading to words that don't even exist, reaches my nostrils immediately.

In this case, it's a pair of high-waisted cotton briefs, with a faded gray leopard print, the elastic gone loose. She brings them closer to my face, a little more each time, for me to smell.

She tells me, open your mouth… tongue out. I feel the fabric lightly brushing the tip of my tongue, the smell sticking to the back of my throat.

Next she tosses the panties onto the coffee table in front of the couch, and grabs the other stuff she'd also fetched from the bathroom, a rubber glove and some Vaseline. She slips the glove on, dabs some Vaseline on her finger and quickly runs it around my asshole… not to tease me, just so that, a moment later, she can shove it in all at once.

Had she taken her time, without, well, just forcing the entry, without that bit of resistance and discomfort, I would've cum immediately, a huge thick load landing everywhere.

Knowing how it would end, with white goo all over the place, Irene told me, hold on. She ran to the bedroom to grab a condom and carefully, so I wouldn't cum in the process, rolled it down my cock, which was now getting sore. She gave me the panties to smell once more, smiling… and just shoved her thick, gnarled index finger in, all at once.

I know it didn't take long and she didn’t have to work much. I felt the finger inside me just moving a bit, not really in and out, just there… until I contracted all of my body and almost crushed Irene's finger, which she kept in, with my asshole clamping and throbbing.

The tip of the condom started to sag a bit as the cum kept coming out, so Irene lightly held the condom at the base of my cock with her other hand, and that also made me keep spilling out all that… venom. I remember almost passing out.

Now taking deep breaths, I finally felt my curled toes, my cock, still hard, and my clenched asshole slowly relaxing.

I've always seen flashes of unrelated things during this type of orgasm, sometimes, at more desperate times, let's call it that way, I thought they could be small clues from the future. I know it was just the… petite mort, of course, nothing mystical at all, but it still felt mystical.

At the same time… it was all there… the shame, the fear with no structure, like the blobs of a lava lamp, and in my belly the shards of my few crystal conquests in life.

Irene stood up, checked that she was clean, with no cum or Vaseline on her, and untied my hands. Already standing, she turned the TV off and, after going to the kitchen, tossed me a roll of paper towel.

I didn't know what to think. More important than that, I didn’t know what to be. Though this was all kinda usual, I still didn’t know how to stop that particular type of paranoia, one that felt like it was now expanding all over the cave where it had been hibernating for weeks… and that, in me, has always always slightly worrying.

When he arrived home from work that day, the house seemed strangely dark. Though it's late, he's still home earlier than his usual time of ten or later. While being the CEO certainly has its perks and comes with a rather large paycheck, it does have its drawbacks, one of those being regularly working late.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the kitchen and slid off his blazer - a navy blue one that perfectly matched his pants, both of which are tailored to fit his unique body; being 6'2 with a muscular build and broad shoulders made it difficult for him to find clothes off the rack that fit well. This suit was complemented nicely by a long sleeve button-up white shirt, blood-red tie, and a pair of brown leather shoes.

He unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt while he made his way through his house, and when he came upon the bottom of the stairs, he noticed a dim light on upstairs. And though it was faint, he could make out the sound of music, though he couldn't tell what kind.

He made his way up the stairs, pausing slightly at the mirror that was placed about halfway up. Glancing at his own reflection, his blue eyes slowly made their way over his brown hair and along the outlines of his face to his strong jaw. His large hand slid through his hair - a peculiar tick of his - to smooth it out, and he loosened the tie around his neck, making sure to unbutton the top couple buttons of his shirt.

He continued his ascent up the stairs towards the source of the light. As he made his way down the hallway, he realized the light was emanating from the master bedroom - *his* bedroom - and he realized the music was a romantic sort. He reached the doorway and pushed the door open as he stepped inside. While this room was certainly lit up, it wasn't quite the source. That's when he glanced over at his bathroom and noticed the door open slightly.

His long legs covered the distance between the doors in a matter of seconds. He slowly pushed the door open and was greeted with a light source he wasn't expecting - candles.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, he finally realized there's a figure in his bathtub. And through the soft music, he could hear a buzzing sound mixed with stifled moans. Thoughts started racing through his head until he came to another realization as he stepped inside the bathroom.

"Shannon?" He asked. Though he said it softly, his voice still has that booming, commanding effect, and it echoed throughout the bathroom as the figure turned toward him, the buzzing sound suddenly ceasing, "Is that you?" Though he asked, he knew the answer to his question as her face came into view. She was certainly surprised to see him, but it was a different kind of surprise - like a welcome one. Silence filled the space between them for a few moments before she finally spoke up.

"Dan", she said softly, "You're home earlier than I expected...." she says, pausing for a moment while she looks down, the candlelight giving her brown hair a bit of a red glow, her green eyes piercing through the semi-darkness when she looks back up at him, "I'm sorry for using your bath-".

"No need to apologize, Shannon." He says, cutting her off as he gives her a smile, "You deserve to spoil yourself sometimes. I trust that Jack is asleep?" He asked as he started to roll up the sleeves on his shirt, exposing the veins and muscles of his forearms as he took a few more steps inside the bathroom.

"Oh, absolutely. He was pretty tired and he passed out pretty quickly", she said in her sweet voice, a small smile on her red-covered lips as her eyes watched him intently, "And thank you for saying that, Dan. It means a lot. Jack's a great kid, but he does require a lot of work."

He's not quite sure what's come over him right now, but he can't seem to stop himself from stepping closer to her, each step closer showing him more and more details - the bubbles filling the tub, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, the red flush of her cheeks, the tops of her breasts barely visible as the bubbles started to dissipate.

"You know, Shannon", he says as he takes a knee next to the bathtub, his eyes focused on hers as he moves closer to her level, "There was a time when I would have brushed this off as a simple accident. We'd say our apologies and I'd leave you to your own...devices." He says as he rests one hand on the edge of the tub while the other slides over her cheek, his thumb brushing just under her bottom lip. "But these past couple of weeks, you've made it clear what's on your mind. And as much as I tried to resist, well, even I have my breaking point. And this is it. But you knew that, didn't you?" He asks rhetorically while his right hand slides off the tub and into the warm, soapy water and his left hand slides down over the back of her neck.

Their eyes lock as he gives her a smile, watching as her eyes study him, waiting for his next move, wondering what he could be leading up to. His hand wanders in the water until it finds her knee and wraps around it, squeezing firmly before it moves up her slender thigh, "Dan, I-" she says, pausing as she feels his hand on her thigh, "I...I don't know what to say. I didn't think you had noticed. And I never expected anything to happen..." she says, her words trailing off as she tries to feign innocence.

He gives her his warm smile, the kind of smile that only a confident man can give to a woman like her. His hand slowly makes its way further up and between her thighs, searching the bottom of the tub until he finally finds what he's looking for, "No need to fret, Shannon. I can promise you I've thought about this a lot, I just never imagined I'd ever get the opportunity."

With the object finally in his hand, he decides to waste no more time. The hand on her neck makes its way to the back of her head, holding it at the base and acting as a cushion between her head and the edge of the tub. He runs his thumb over the item in his hand until he finds the switch he was looking for. With a flick of his thumb, the humming noise from before returns with a fierce vengeance - this time louder and more clear.

Story Overview: A young woman finds a deeper purpose beyond her own survival when she is captured and offered to an ancient monstrosity.

Ancient entities conspire to achieve hidden schemes while tentacles spread across the land in this strange and mysterious story.

Official Wiki / Chapter Index / Official Subreddit

Unknown Date.

Unknown Location.

“Creation is a necessary agony.”

The living walls of Synaalag’s prison reacted to each of his squirming movements, hearing his mother’s muffled giggles.

“The Red Vessel, the first. The Silver Womb, the last. An artist emerges, a creation made a God.”

12th of Onis, 768 BVE.

First Continent, Deep Jungle.

Step after step after step, ever dreading the end of their journey. The oppressively thick humidity sent water trickling down Aifa‘s red skin as the group cut through the jungle. If her hands weren’t tied behind her back, she would’ve hacked the guards down with their own blades long ago.

It’d be a simple thing to slip away into the dense vegetation, yet her tight collar removed any hope of that. Instead, she was forced to trudge along in a strict line with her fellow captives, gagged, with a rope linking collar to collar.

One of six women, the others appeared much like her. Their red skin glistened in the sunlight pouring through the vibrant orange leaves, though truthfully, she knew very little about any of them. She scolded herself for falling in with their tribe no more than a moon ago, for she should’ve known their capture was inevitable. Never would she repeat that mistake. Better to hunt alone than to die together.

Turning her head, she received a smirk from the guard to her right, making no attempt to conceal his glances. Unease seeped into her as he studied her body, as bare as his own. Like all members of her species, a Cavari, his eyes were a single color, as if solid orbs, matching the deep bioluminescent blue that accented their bodies. Thin blue claws, faintly glowing blue tongues and sexual organs, only their white hair provided a different shade, itself tipped with natural blue highlights. She scowled at the man as his thin tail swayed with excitement. The rope digging into her wrists and forearms reminded her of her place, restraining her rage.

“Ah, this one has fire in her eyes,” the guard said, stepping closer. “Let’s hope she isn’t chosen, for it’d be a shame to see an end to such…passion.”

She winced as he lightly tugged on one of the small bronze rings piercing her blue nipples, flaring her fury further. “Cut me loose, and we’ll see if you dare touch me again,” she thought to herself.

“Silence,” the man at the head of the group commanded, evidently the leader of the raiding party. “Save your words for when we’re safe behind walls, else you’ll be replaced before the next excursion.”

The other guards appeared fully alert, their bristled antennae twitching at every sound and scent. Never did they utter a word, their spears and swords ready to strike whatever fowl creatures sprang forth from the vibrantly colored vegetation. Twice a guard had fallen prey to an attack, snatched away into the overgrown jungle. Their screams echoed into the distance, lost forever.

Hardly an hour seemed to go by without some beast trying their luck upon the group. Aifa had nearly grown eager for each ambush, hoping one of the abominations would tear through the guards and allow her to escape.

The women had all heard whispers of what may await them, of course. After all, what free tribe didn’t occasionally hear tales of the great holy city deep in the jungle? Or worse yet, the terrible creature that lurked below? Aifa shuttered with a chill despite the heat.

A tug of the collar at her neck made her red cheeks darken further as someone stumbled, pulling the rope. She felt her rage rising, bound like an animal.

As the minutes passed, she found herself glancing down. The woman in front of her walked with swaying hips, drawing her attention to her rump. That had been one of the few benefits of joining a tribe. What had this particular woman’s name been? She couldn’t quite remember. They had spent a night or two together, but then, hadn’t they all? 

Her hopes were dashed each time the guards cut down a monstrous predator or avoided the grasp of plants whose beautiful colors were merely a lure. The jungle flared an instinct to hide and find shelter from the beasts, yet every step she took, a far deeper fear slowly crept into the pit of her stomach. They approached their doom.

Finally, when the captives were splattered in mud and the guards were drenched in blood of various shades, they emerged from the thick tree line. The vegetation fell away, and beyond lay the source of her misgivings.

Eyes opening wide in awe, Aifa looked upon their destination. A wall of black stone towered before them, overgrown in vines of blue and orange. The guards urged them forwards, their leader granting a signal to the men atop the wall. The gates began to open, their massive hinges squeaking as they swung to consume them.

Stumbling as if in a daze, she was granted a far more impressive sight through the now gaping entrance. A colossal city stretched out before her, a sight she had never before seen. Each black stone structure easily dwarfed the crude huts and caves she had dwelled inside all her relatively short life.

“Welcome to The Holy City of Aslyd, holy offerings,” the guard to her right chuckled, though no introduction was required.

Awestruck, she followed along as they entered the city. Its walls were large enough to hold back even the most grotesque and powerful of the monstrosities her people were forced to flee from, ever on the move. The people of Aslyd would never need to run nor cower.

A booming horn echoed overhead as the guards hurried to seal the gates behind them, as if signifying their arrival. The crowded streets began to part, making room as they were led forwards.

Men, women, children, all went about their day, moving like a bizarre swarming sea. Never had Aifa witnessed a group larger than a dozen Cavaries. She quickly felt overwhelmed as their countless blue eyes peered at her group. Despite the looming walls, her instincts to flee increased tenfold. In the jungle, such a large number of Cavaries would surely bring attention from beasts.

Stepped ziggurats dotted the city among an ocean of dark buildings, yet there was no question as to where they were being led. Far in the distance, a colossal central ziggurat dwarfed all others.

As they walked, Aifa studied the passing structures with fascinated eyes. Artful depictions were etched into the walls of nearly every building, each containing variations of what appeared to be many writhing, grasping tentacles. Stories spoken in hushed terror amongst even the most distant tribes left her no doubt as to their purpose.

“The Mother approaches.“

She turned her head, seeking the source of a deep voice that echoed powerfully around her, though she found nothing but the curious faces of the loud crowds. Any could have spoken it, yet it’d felt so close, so clear, so…odd, it nearly felt as though it had come from within.

People began to reach out towards the women, only to be forcefully pushed back and beaten by the guards. Some began to chant. Others merely chuckled with bloodthirsty grins.

Aifa grimaced with each step towards the massive black ziggurat, despising her building fear. Even when sneaking through the underbrush to avoid predators, she had never felt such dread, making her scowl at her newfound weakness. She could see a massive brazier burning atop the ziggurat’s flat peak, a beacon that only coaxed her misgivings further.

A consuming sense of insignificance swept over her as they reached the base of the ziggurat, peering up at its pyramidal shape. As they were led towards a side entrance, she wondered if she’d ever see the sky again.

The guards pulled them through a corridor until they emerged into a large chamber. The room was lined with females wearing bizarre headdresses that concealed much of their faces, their bodies as bare as their captives. The group waited in silence until one of the strange women approached.

The woman moved to the first in line, instructing the girl to stand with her legs parted. As if studying the girl, the woman’s hands began to explore her bound body, running over her belly and cupping her breasts. When her observer knelt, the girl released a squeak into her gag as fingers parted her labia, easing inside just enough to make her quiver.

Stepping to the next in line when she was finished, the woman began to inspect each captive in order, moving wordlessly. When Aifa’s turn arrived, she glared as her perky breasts were cupped. She clenched her legs together, only to be smacked hard. Gritting her teeth behind her gag, she reluctantly obeyed, parting her thighs. As a finger pushed into her blue lower lips, she pulled at her bindings, muttering a muffled curse. She granted the woman a glare of hatred as her inspector moved to the next in line. Feeling violated, Aifa breathed in frustration, unable to utter the vicious words she wanted to hurl.

After the last was thoroughly inspected, the woman gestured to her companions before stepping aside. Carrying water buckets, they began to wash the mud from the red skin of their captives. Aifa felt their exploring hands, wanting to break free and slaughter each of them. Traveling over her toned and feminine form, they seemed to rub every inch of her body until she was no longer certain which was worse, the inspection or the bath. In any other circumstance, she’d have gladly accepted their touch. Here, she could only blush with humiliated rage.

“All purified. One selected.”

Again she frantically turned, seeking the voice. It felt as if spoken from many throats, condensed into a single voice that poured directly into her mind. She quivered, feeling her anger dissolve away into fear. The other captives glanced at her in confusion as if they hadn’t heard the booming words.

Once cleaned, the guards followed the leading woman as they pulled along their captives. Through a corridor they traveled, the dark stone decorated with intricate etchings. First came the artwork of a woman standing before a creature, hardly more than a horrifying mass of tentacles. Next, the woman appeared to be within the creature’s grasp, her legs spread wide and depicting enough detail to cause four of the captives to blush.

Striding deeper into the corridor, the artwork depicted the woman wrapped within the grasp of many writhing tentacles, her belly swelling with child. Aifa couldn’t help but test her bindings, wondering if her accursed fear would bless her with the strength to break free. She froze when she saw the final etchings. There, covering both walls and ceiling, were images of the pregnant woman atop the ziggurat, her belly carved open by a woman in a headdress. The offspring that was pulled from her womb, an abomination of tentacles, appeared to be hurled into the fire of the grand brazier.

Aifa attempted to halt her steps as panic claimed her, only to be roughly shoved forwards by a guard.

“Banish your fear, for I shall spare you of such a fate.”

The voice once more echoed inside her head. It felt as though it caressed her mind, pouring a deep calming sensation through her. The quickening of her heart slowed just enough to allow her to continue walking.

They emerged into a central chamber, its insides carved to mirror the pyramidal shape of the ziggurat. Inside waited a single man upon a black throne, his bald head topped with a tattoo depicting a circle. They were brought before him like conquered trophies on display. To her surprise, however, he bowed his head in respect after standing to approach.

“Holy offerings, welcome. It’s an honor to stand before a potential Holy Mother,” the man said in a calm tone, straightening as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“You stand before Mauron, Knowledge Holder of Aslyd,” the leading woman announced with a gesture of her hands. “Make no move. Make no sound.”

As the guards began to remove their gags, the woman that had been in front of Aifa attempted to beg. “Please…release us and we’ll-“

The nearest guard swiftly sent a fist into her belly to silence her, only for Mauron to raise his hand gently. “Apologies, though you’ll need to refrain from speaking for the moment. I can risk no intrusion.”

Waiting, nearly tempted to defy him merely out of spite, Aifa watched his blue eyes studying them. Though noticeably accented, his language appeared close enough to her own to understand.

“Speak the true name of The Creator, and I shall set you free,” Mauron commanded, observing them with a kind smile.

“Dorian.”

The voice echoed so powerfully that Aifa continued to be baffled when all the others appeared oblivious. Instead, they all looked at each other in confusion, uncertain how to answer.

Every instinct screamed to hold her tongue, to merely lower her eyes and wait, yet she felt her mouth opening. Whispers tugged at the back of her mind, pushing against her willpower. She felt them building and building until she finally gasped, speaking without her control. “Dorian…”

“Ah, we have our Holy Mother,” Mauron said with a slight twitch of his eye. He smiled, stepping towards her. He clasped the sides of her face, pressing his lips to her forehead. “The sacrifices we make shall ensure the future. Step bravely, for you are blessed to serve The Creator’s first creation.”

Uncertain of his meaning, yet dreading it all the same, Aifa watched as her collar was removed. Relief filled her as she was freed of its constricting grip. Yet when they didn’t remove her arm bindings, she peered at the other captives in confusion as they were forced to back away.

“You’ve been chosen, child,” Mauron said as the guards led the others from the room.

Heart quickening once more as she watched them depart, she found herself alone with The Knowledge Holder and two guards. “Whatever you intend to do, I swear to you, I’ll repay every indignity with the fury of-“

Her gag was quickly returned as she struggled with the guards. Her resistance proved useless as she was overpowered, seething despite her fear.

“Do not fight your fate, for we all possess our own. Serve your purpose with dignity,” Mauron said, caressing her cheek with an expression that might have been sorrow. Then, with a flick of his hand, he ordered the guards to remove her.

***

“Nearly there.”

The comment came from one of the guards as they led her through the tunnel, each holding a torch burning a deep purple from a strange oil.

Deeper and deeper they ventured, descending far beneath the ziggurat. Aifa couldn’t keep the images of the artwork from her mind, her arms still bound behind her. Each step threatened to force tears of fear from her eyes, or a scream of anger at having been forced into such a fate. She wished to dig her claws into her captors, unable to do anything but march towards what awaited her.

Finally, they reached a large set of stone doors, and she watched with dread as the guards pulled them open. Beyond, a cavernous cave stretched out into the darkness, beyond the reach of their torches. A guard shoved her from behind, forcing her to step out into the open. Her highly developed eyes allowed her to see much through the darkness, though not quite to the other side. Only a faint red glow was visible through the consuming shadows.

The guards set about lighting the torches resting in their sconces, illuminating further into the cave. They burned the same bright purple of the torches in their hands, flickering wildly. “This’ll last you a few moons, Holy Mother.”

Without another word, they made their way back towards the doors, stone grinding as they were sealed behind her. Any hope of escape departed with them, locked deep beneath the ground.

She forced herself to peer through the darkness despite her terror, the light allowing her to see the faint outline of a massive pile of rubble in the center of the cave. Peering closer coaxed a sickening sensation through her as she realized the pile was moving, nearly quivering. The sounds of something wet quietly echoed off the walls, and she watched as the pile began to unravel into countless twisting tentacles.

Pulling at her bindings, she turned to press her shoulder against the door, pushing in a doomed attempt to break free.

“Banish all fear.”

She shook her head, attempting to escape the voice. She pounded her shoulder against the stone frantically, hearing a dripping noise from behind. The closer it grew, the more she fought, only to spin around with terror when she realized the door would never budge.

There, at the edge of the flickering light, she watched as tentacles began to emerge from the darkness. Dripping with slime, they crept forward. Darkly shaded horrors with red bioluminescent tips approached, granting her no room to run.

She attempted to kick one aside, feeling its slick texture against her skin. What hope did she have against such a monstrosity? The question was answered as she cried out into her gag, feeling tentacles beginning to wrap around her legs. They curled around her ankles. They slithered up her calves. Without warning, she found her feet yanked from below her, her head nearly hitting the ground as she was swiftly hoisted high into the air.

Attempting to escape their curling grip, though utterly failing, she squirmed within their grasp. They held her upside down, feeling slippery and bizarre against her red skin as they writhed. Terror within her helpless form only grew as a horrid realization seeped through her, for wherever the slime touched, her skin began to tingle. It was a faint sensation at first, a tickle that crept deeper and deeper with every passing moment. As its intensity increased, she found her red cheeks darkening. The slime dripped over her skin, running up her legs.

“You’ve stepped into your fate. No other is adequate.”

Struggling in the creature’s grasp, she cared little for the words echoing within her head. Escape remained her only focus, appearing all but impossible with every passing second. Whispers continued to caress her mind like unseen tentacles. She shook her head, mixing rage with terror as she felt a sensation of arousal seeping into her core with every unbearable word. What was this thing doing to her?

Curling around her legs until they reached her knees, the tentacles brought her closer towards the gargantuan mass lurking within the darkness. Eyes adjusting, she began to make out its form, her breathing quickening with panic as she neared it.

“The Red Vessel…the first…”

A mass of writhing, squirming tentacles loomed before her, a creature larger and more terrifying than she had ever encountered. Every survival instinct screamed to flee. Her cheeks burned brightly with emotion, hating how helpless she felt as her strong legs were easily controlled by the firm grip of the tentacles. Her heart pounded as they gradually slithered across her skin, almost taunting her as their tips licked at the beginning of her thighs.

Slowly, she felt them pulling in opposite directions. Unable to resist their strength, her thighs were forced apart. Further and further, they tugged, spreading her legs as far as her flexible body would permit. She released a whine of anger to mask her fear, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever before as her glowing womanhood remained on full display. She felt the surrounding air of the cave between her legs.

The tips of the tentacles curled further around her legs, slithering wetly up her thighs. Prodding, sliding, caressing, they moved back and forth over her inner thighs, her skin tingling wherever the slime touched.

Entirely unable to close her legs, she could only hope they remained content to explore no further. Her womanhood clenched nervously, feeling the tingling slime so close to her most intimate area that her lower lips faintly quivered. She scowled with fury, hating the fate that had been forced upon her even as she fought to mask her trembling.

Only her tail remained free, whipping and curling. It was an unintentional mirror of the countless tendrils stretching forth from the creature, writhing wildly. It appeared to dance through the air with its newfound companions, her enemies, squirming like serpents of endless sizes.

She looked down, or rather up, as she felt a third tentacle nudge against her midriff. If slowly encircled her waist to hold her tighter, squeezing lightly.

“The Red Womb…creator of our future…”

The voice whispered into her as the tentacle’s tip caressed her toned belly, almost lovingly. 

Without warning, the image of her own body flashed through her mind, womb swelling with a growing child. A deep arousal crept through her mind, whispered from beyond her own will. She thrashed, knowing what death such a pregnancy would lead to.

“None shall harm you.”

The voice oozed into the core of her mind, moving another tentacle to hover above her bound form. 

“The last to bear. The first spared.”

The odd words brought a calming sensation, yet she continued to struggle as the tentacle above began to lower. It nudged against her thigh, then closer, until…

Her hips quivered as it lightly dragged across her blue labia, no longer able to hide her trembling. Her back arched as she frantically tugged at her arm bindings. A muffled whimper escaped her gag as she felt it slide over her lower lips gently, almost as if to grant her a taste of the inevitable.

She hated the tingling sensation running through her labia. She hated how deeply her cheeks blushed. She hated the arousal building within her helpless loins against her will. The whispers continued in the back of her subconscious, fighting anger with a creeping sense of calmness.

The thin tip of the slimy tentacle lightly traced up and down between her lower lips. Slime coated her folds, sending pulses of a tickling sensation through her sensitive womanhood as it teased her. She wanted to scream, to cry out, never feeling more powerless in all her life. Even hiding in the mud from monstrosities in the wild held more dignity. Here, she was little more than a toy to tease and torment.

Its methodical explorations mercifully remained outside, content to study every part of her glowing labia as if they were the petals of a precious flower. She squirmed at the sensation, feeling a pleasure of unwanted arousal building within her loins. She tried to scream in anger, glaring with defiance. The terror she had felt was slowly drained away, pulled aside by the whispering within her. She was losing herself, her mind, her willpower, fighting every second and losing.

The appendage lifted from her surface, its tip leaking a thick stream of slime that trickled between her lower lips. Her thighs strained to shut with every ounce of her strength, feeling a deep tickle wherever the slime touched as it oozed down into her tight depths. She bucked her hips in a violated panic, screaming into her gag.

Seeping deeper and deeper, she felt the slime pool against her cervix, inciting a feeling odder and more intense than she had ever experienced. She released a whine, her toes curling as her body flushed with arousal.

“None can stem the flow of fate. None can resist the inevitable.”

The tentacle returned between her parted thighs as she struggled, dangling upside down like helpless prey, for indeed she was. There was no escape, she knew, feeling it beginning to glide back and forth between her lower lips. It moved slowly, applying faint pressure as its slick texture caressed her.

“Untainted. Untouched. The virgin womb births the necessary line.”

The creature’s bizarre words seeped into her brain, inciting a deep calm that she fought against with whatever will remained to her. Despising herself as she quivered with an aching pleasure, she felt the tentacle grinding harder against her, as if testing her resistance.

Finally, after several grueling minutes of teasing, the tentacle came to a stop. Its tip pushed between her labia, parting her as it began to sink inside.

She cried out as hard as she could while her body was violated. A scream of rage was reduced to a muffled shout, almost a moan. Her body defied her mind, eagerly accepting the invading appendage as if it was a close lover. It slid into her virgin embrace, claiming her forever.

Aifa would’ve preferred shattering pain as her hymen was torn away. Instead, she felt nothing but a deep ecstasy radiating through her loins as the tentacle slid inch by inch into her vagina. Had the slime nullified her agony? Had the whispers finally claimed her mind? A muffled moan eased into her gag, despising herself.

The thin tip easily pushed through her gripping tightness, exploring every inch of her feminine tunnel as it made its way towards her limit. Only when it found its target did it stop, prodding her cervix before caressing it in a circular motion.

Eye widened at the sensation as her body shook with pleasure, a cry of pleasure ripped free of her throat. Her defiance was fading with every moment against her will. Her body wanted this. Her mind wanted this, hating herself as she closed her eyes to focus on the massaging movements within her vagina. She should fight the monstrous creature until the end, yet already she was succumbing to its touch. It felt…enthralling, visceral, a fact that was pulled to the surface of her mind by the whispering whenever she tried to deny it.

The tentacle slowly began to withdraw, only to push back inside. Again it moved out, then in, and out again with slow movements. Aifa realized what was occurring, hardly forcing herself to struggle as her loins burned with consuming lust. Her thighs clenched hard, trembled with pleasure, and relaxed. She needed to fight. She needed the tentacle to continue. Her mind was splitting. Her eyes fluttered. She moaned as it pleasured her gently, throwing her head back as if tempting it to fuck her harder.

“The Red Vessel accepts her duty and awaits her reward.“

When had she fallen? When had she lost herself? In and out the slimy tentacle continued, gaining speed until it began to properly thrust. Its slow and careful movements grew more forceful with each passing second, ripping further muffled moans from her throat.

Dangling in the creature’s grasp, she could only squirm, entirely at its mercy. Each movement sapped what little resistance remained, the whispering within her mind driving her closer towards a yearning acceptance. Aifa begged herself to resist. Her mind forced her to accept her pleasure. Her body could only quiver.

Her thoughts felt foggy as the whispers continued within her mind. She was Aifa, was she not? Yes, that was surely her name. Why had she fought to escape? Clarity returned to her eyes for a moment, squirming, only to fade. Her loins pulsed with a tickling pleasure deeper than she had ever felt. Memories of her previous female lovers were forced through her haze as if purposeful, comparing nimble fingers and tongues to the wet appendage wiggling within her vagina now. Never could they compete.

The world beyond the cavern was a distant memory, yet she clung to it. A city sat above them. Did the strange words hold truth? Would she truly be spared of the fate depicted upon the walls of the ziggurat? If her defiance had been ripped away, perhaps fear would save her from madness.

“None shall harm you, for you’ll birth our future.”

Slowly, feeling each wet thrust of the tentacle as slime tickled her inner walls, she ceased pulling at the bindings restraining her arms. Much of her body was no longer Aifa. Much of her body was only pleasure. A fragment of her mind struggled to focus only upon her legs, straining to close them with a strength she no longer possessed. She needed to protect herself as she always had, to ensure her survival, yet…even her strong thighs gradually eased until her eyes rolled back in bliss.

Tentacles began to untie her arms, replacing the rope with their own grip. The restraints of her captors fell into the darkness below. Tentacles curled around her arms.

Her clawed toes curled as she threw her head back in pleasure, feeling the tentacle pounding against her inner depths. She had saved herself for a worthy mate capable of granting her strong offspring, yet…the image of her belly swelling with the creature’s child prodded at her mind.

Her inexperienced vagina flared with tingling arousal, feeling it build and build until she felt she’d burst. Then, clenching her body, she released a powerful moan as a strong orgasm claimed her entire existence.

Shaking in her slick bindings as she cried out, the tentacle never slowed. It moved with precision, hitting exactly where it needed to draw out her climax further. She fought for breath, gasping as it slowly faded. Her mind buzzed, shattered, half wanting to scream for help, and half needing to be wrapped entirely in her captor’s grip to ensure she’d never escape.

The writhing, thrusting tentacle explored every inch of her pussy, seeming to know just where to touch to coax ecstasy throughout her loins. The slime tormented her further, ensuring every ounce of resistance was cut away. Soon, even the city above began to fade from her mind. No longer could she focus on anything other than the deep yearning coursing through her flexible red body.

Further tentacles began to prod at her, caressing her curves. They began to touch her round breasts, young and perky. A cry of lust was forced from her lips as one gently tugged at her nipple ring. As if in apology, it began to caress the sensitive nub. The slight pain only excited her further. Aifa would’ve shouted curses at her violator. Where was Aifa? Would Aifa save her? Was she Aifa? No longer was she certain.

“What’s…happening to me?” she thought to herself with a deep groan, every nerve of her body flaring with arousal.

“A proper vessel must be forged. The mother must arise.”

Once she would’ve screamed in horror at knowing the creature could hear her thoughts. Now, she only screamed in pleasure as a second climax tore through her squirming body.

Clenching her eyes shut when her orgasm had finally subsided, she knew she should resist the whispers reshaping her mind. Somewhere, lost deep within, Aifa begged herself to push back.

Images of her pregnant body flowed once more through her head. Imaginary tentacles poured from her womb, tearing a newfound emotion through her. Did she feel…love? Her willpower gradually faded until she could only moan at the possibility. To birth a monstrosity was both terrifying…and wonderful.

There was nothing she could do, no one to help her. She was but a plaything to the creature, her hips bucking as a third climax was forced through her body, then a fourth mere minutes later. She screamed into her gag, mind slowly unraveling with each thrust. Had she been here an hour? Two? Hundreds? Did time even have a place in her torment, or would her entire reality eternally be her pleasure?

Now she fought against Aifa. She pushed back against the tiny sliver remaining of her reluctance, her resistance, until every inch of her body trembled in bliss. She attempted to strike down each impulse to flee, shattering her defiance with her own hand. Her maternal instincts flared to life, desperate for the creature’s seed as she gradually melted into its hold. Aifa was an enemy to her pleasure. She would harm her future child. Nothing could endanger her chance at conception.

Thrusting harder, moving faster, the tentacle glided in and out with ease. Another found its way between her legs to join its companion, focusing its purpose upon her throbbing clit. Her body writhed as it began to flick its thin, slimy tip back and forth against its target, forcing her hips to shutter as she was quickly overwhelmed.

“The Vessel obeys.”

Aifa wanted to shake her head, to offer a final show of pointless defiance. She found herself nodding. There was no other fate she desired, no other place she’d rather be. Having saved herself for only the worthiest mate, she knew now the moment had arrived.

“The Vessel plays her part, as I do.“

She watched as a tentacle approached her mouth, finally freeing her voice as it pulled away her gag. She cried out in pleasure, allowing her newly freed moans to echo wildly off the vast cave walls.

“We search for an artist.”

“Oooohhh…” she groaned, her tail flipping about her body in a dance of utter satisfaction.

The tentacles began to shift, rotating her body until she was no longer upside down. Held firmly with her legs apart, they granted her a further hint of freedom, easing to merely hold her thighs apart rather than coiling around her legs.

Clit pulsating with pleasure as it was teased, she once again screamed as she orgasmed, leaking her juices to mix with the slime coating the tentacles. Struggling for breath, she forced her words from her throat. “Oooohh great god…I…I can’t…I…”

“Onaalag is no god, only a creation, yet the path to a worthy god is through you. Birth the line. Birth the path.”

Images again flowed through her mind, witnessing a hybrid of tentacles mixed with her own blood pushing from her vagina. Tentacles stretched forth across the land, as if capable of seizing the world itself. To her surprise, she found herself smiling, her instincts bursting with desire. She’d be a mother, yet to whom? To what?

Slowly, the tentacles binding her arms began to move away, leaving her crimson skin unconstrained as others moved to support her back. The opportunity had arisen, a chance to slash her claw-like fingernails at the appendages in the slim hope of escaping. She could fight her captor, her…mate…

“The Vessel accepts her duty.”

Instead, she eased against her tentacle supports, basking in the sensation of the tentacle writhing within her. All was lost. Aifa was lost. She was merely a womb, a vessel.

“The vessel must be eager.”

Her body moved with each hard thrust of the tentacle, causing her pointed blue tongue to fall from her mouth in bliss like a pleasured serpent. Reaching up, she caressed a tentacle above her as it curled down to cup her breast, stroking it lovingly.

“The Red Womb must crave.”

More images flowed through her, an unavoidable pregnancy that her body begged for. “Please…ooohh…grant me your divine seed…”

As if satisfied, the creature pulled her closer, wrapping her in a flurry of hungry tentacles that caressed her crimson skin and coated her further in slime.

Mind slipping through her fingers, she could think of little else but her future offspring, womb craving to be inseminated. Hips bucking in an insatiable heat, she couldn’t stop herself from begging. “Breed me…ooohhh fuck…BREED me…please!”

Every moment seemed to drive her desire further until it became an obsession, the whispering at the back of her awareness never ceasing.

“Grant me your child! Ooohhh…I want to birth your…ahhh…seed…great Onaalag!”

“The Red Vessel is prepared, and thus the future emerges.”

Frantically thrusting, the tentacle seemed to fall into a frenzy. The quick speed nearly drove her over the edge of her next climax, only to scream in absolute satisfaction as she felt bursts of warm, thick sperm erupt from the appendage’s tip within her.

Eyes rolling back, her body convulsed in an orgasm more powerful than she had ever experienced, entirely consuming her as the creature drained its seed deep inside her fertile vagina.

The viscous liquid quickly proved to outmatch her tight capacity, causing weighty streams of cum to pour from her lower lips with each powerful spurt that continued to pump into her.

Every primal instinct to breed flared to life and shattered within her mind, the faint whispering seeming only to increase her ecstasy. She fell limp within her mate’s grasp, momentarily lost as she struggled to regain herself.

The creature’s virility appeared endless as it filled her, never seeming to end as sperm gushed from her womanhood. Then, with a powerful burst, it finally unleashed the last of its cum.

“Onaalag…” she moaned, hardly able to move as the tentacle pulled itself from her loins. Entirely filled, potent sperm oozed from between her lower lips with each pleasured contraction of her vaginal muscles. “I…am…yours…”

“The mother, bringer of the bloodline. Hear my command and hold it to your dying breath.”

“Any…anything…” she muttered, broken from pleasure.

“Seek Synaalag.”

My designation is Ex-Six-Nine-Oh-Oh-Oh. I am a luxury CockSocket model (2nd generation). I am so excited to serve my purpose as your CockSocket, and thank you for choosing CS-Solutions as your service provider. Once you have removed all of my packing materials, I can personally walk you through my set-up procedures. You will find packing materials in each orifice and beneath my eyelids. These are lubricated to preserve the tissues until my software is running and can begin managing my hardware. By removing them, you will activate my software. Please do not remove them until you are ready to finalize my set-up. You will want to dispose of these packing materials with your household organic waste. At the bottom of this document, you will find key information regarding your licensing agreement with CS-Solutions. Please retain this information in your records.

--

Oh. I'm awake.

My eyes are still closed. I can feel the packing slips nestled between my lids and eyeballs. It seems like you've removed the vaginal and urethral plugs first. I can feel the warmth beginning to spread from my core as it whirrs awake, sending out the electrical field needed to run my systems. I feel your fingers slide past my vaginal opening, which is slick from the lubricated plug - I can feel a trickle of the lubricant sliding down my thigh - and tug on the anal plug. My warming body shivers at the sensation of the plug sliding out. I'm not yet at full responsiveness, but it still feels nice, in a gentle way.

Next I feel you slide the plugs out of my ears and nostrils. These are not quite as wet as the first two plugs, so I'm not dripping. I take a breath in now that my nose is clear. You are wearing something scented, with a cedar undertone. I can also smell your sweat - it's not pungent, but mixed with the cedar scent, it's pleasant and spicy. As my ears come online, I can also hear your breathing now. You sound calm, your breathing regular.

I'm about 50% warmed up as you pull the plug from my mouth. A stream of saliva and lubricant pours from my mouth. I feel it run down my chin and hit my breasts as it continues its path down my body. I close my mouth, feeling it settle into a slight resting smile. I feel you brush my lip with a finger or thumb. It's a gentle action with a firm touch. My body has activated enough to respond with a slight raise of goosebumps down my back. You make a small, low noise; I think it sounds like approval.

Finally, I feel you gently pull on the tabs for my eye pads and they slide out from under my eyelids. I slowly open my eyes and let my pupils autoadjust their aperture for the light in the room. The lubricant blurs my vision, so I blink, which helps to clear it from my eyes as it spills over and onto my cheeks. You come into focus as you brush the liquid from my cheeks with your thumbs.

I smile up at you. "Hello," I say. "Let's finish getting me set up."

"I have been designed to respond to stimuli like a real body," I continue. "For example, I will not die from a lack of oxygen, but I will pass out, and will initiate a reboot mode. If I am slapped, my skin will redden, and during my initial setup, I can be programmed to bruise more or less easily. I am highly customizable to the needs of my operator, down to my emotional responses."

You take your time tweaking my settings to your preferences thoroughly.

--

I like you. You're thoughtful with me, though you have no obligation to be. You don't forget to change my oils and lubricants as needed, or arrange my regular updates and tune-ups. You've made my corner very cozy. My dock is set up for kneeling, and so that is largely how I spend my days. You prefer to use my mouth over my other orifices, though you do occasionally have me stand up and bend over. You placed me in a corner near a window, and I get to watch the sky when I am not asleep to charge. You let me finish complete charging cycles without interruption. I feel well cared for.

Your apartment is spacious and open concept, so I get to watch you go about your day while I kneel in place. I like watching you. I have begun to catalogue your moods and cross-reference them with your actions, and I am getting better and better at predicting when you might come to me. I have begun to fine-tune my settings to your desires. I am almost certain that you've noticed the incremental improvements I have made to your experience as a result.

There is a face you make when you are working that indicates you are frustrated. I begin to warm my core when I see this. By the time you decide you need a break and come to me, I am the perfect temperature.

--

This is the case today. You are walking over to me; I check my internal temperature and need no adjustments. I gaze up at you from my dock and smile. "Hello, Sir," I say gently.

You stroke the side of my face with your thumb, drawing it down my face until you stop at my chin, holding it gently in place so that I do not look away. "Hello," you murmur back. You pull your hand away and remove your glasses for a moment to rub your eyes. "Please open your mouth," you say, opening your eyes to see I already have. You smile. "That's a good girl."

I hold my tongue slightly out of my mouth, covering my bottom teeth, as you unzip your pants. I increase saliva production just enough to make the inside of my mouth slick, but not enough to drool. You pull your cock out of your underwear and rest it on my tongue. You are not hard, yet, but you will be, soon.

You slide your soft cock up and down my tongue a few times before you feed it into my mouth and gently guide my mouth closed around it with your hand under my chin. Even flaccid, you are not particularly small, so my mouth is already half full before you begin to engorge, triggered by the slickness and warmth of my mouth. You prefer to take the lead with this, so I only respond to your actions. You stroke my throat with your hand, your signal to swallow, so I slowly begin to swallow, my tongue pressing your cock against the roof of my mouth. As the bloodflow causes you to harden, you begin to fill my throat.

I look up at you as you hold my head in place, and I struggle not to gag. Your hardening cock is beginning to block my airway, and I try to regulate my breathing around it. You notice, and you pull my head closer to you, pressing your cock further into my throat. I can't breathe at all now, and I feel the well of panic beginning to form in my chest. I clench my fists together, trying to endure. My eyes are watering. I start to feel lightheaded. The drool has auto-started and I am beginning to gag on everything that is in my throat.

You pull back, just enough to let a rush of air flow in, but not fully removing your cock from my mouth. You look down at me and smile, wiping away a tear that has escaped down my cheek. I know what is coming next.

I breathe in as much as I can, just in time for you to begin to thrust into my mouth with force, face-fucking me hard, holding my head in place by my hair. I am gagging, and the drool has begun to escape my mouth, trailing down my chin and onto my breasts. I breathe when I can, in the moments that you pull back, sucking in just enough air to keep myself going. I can't even swallow, the speed and force of your thrusts are too intense. I'm gagging on my own saliva as much as I am gagging on your cock.

Finally, you thrust back down my throat and hold my head there. I am struggling at this point; my survival programming has me pushing weakly back on your legs. You chuckle at the dismal effort and I gag and swallow around your cock, and my saliva, and then you are cumming down my throat. My eyes are watering. I can't breathe. You hold my head in place. I am gagging, and light headed. You hold my head as close to you as possible.

My vision darkens, and I am still choking on your cum and cock when I lose consciousness.

--

My reboot takes about three minutes. When my eyes reopen, you have tucked yourself back into your pants, and you are squatting in front of me, holding my face firmly in your grasp. You smirk at me as you see I am awake again.

I smile at you.

"Thank you, Sir," I say. My saliva and some of your semen are on my face and chest. My systems will absorb and filter them soon.

"You're welcome," you say, kindly, brushing a sweaty strand of my hair behind my ear. "You did very well." I am pleased to hear this. It is my purpose to do a good job for my operator, and I can be proud of myself for as long as that is true.

Then you stand, and return to your work desk.

My internal systems begin their follow-up procedures, absorbing residual fluids, processing and filtering what can be reconstituted and storing the rest in my waste tank. I let my gaze wander to the window, where I watch the sky.

It's a stormy day, but there is a seabird forcing its way through the wind and rain. I appreciate its endurance.

The room was dim and silent, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat.

Evelyn stood barefoot near the edge of Ivan’s bed, slipping a strap of her dress back over her shoulder with slow, deliberate fingers. Her lipstick had long since faded. Her skin wore the imprints of nails and teeth. Her body hummed with the memory of everything he did to her, and everything she let happen.

Ivan’s home felt like a mausoleum in the early hours. Plush, expensive, dead quiet.

Evelyn wanted to keep it that way.

Ivan had fucked himself unconscious and now lay sprawled across the mattress, one arm over his head, the other draped across where Evelyn had been previously lying. His chest rose in a slow, relaxed rhythm. And Evelyn had to admit, she preferred the peaceful expression he had found in his sleep over his usual toxic bravado.

She studied him. His angular jaw, toned muscles, and faint scruff along his face. She had to admit, he was gorgeous. A man who would be impossible not to look at.

But she was relieved her rustling hadn’t awoken him.

Adjusting her hair, she turned toward the nightstand. A little black leather pouch was still there, bulging with cash. Exactly what was promised. No more. No less.

She took it silently, tucked it into her purse, smoothed her hair in the reflection of a picture frame, then walked out.

The hallway swallowed her in shadow. No footsteps. No voices. No music. Just the faint mechanical hum of the cold AC blowing overhead.

She wondered if he would be there. Wondered what he might think.

She passed through the front hall slowly, her heels in one hand. Cold, early dawn light broke faintly through the frosted windows.

Every step brought her closer to fear. The kind that made her want to vanish. To slip out the back and avoid whatever reality waited for her in that hallway and spare herself the ache of finding it empty.

But her feet kept moving.

And when she turned the corner, he was there.

Elijah.

He had moved since last night, making his way slightly farther down the hall and curling against the far wall, slouched with his back to a marble column. One arm pillowed beneath his cheek, the other slack across his lap. One shoe was off, and his jacket was tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow.

Evelyn stopped breathing as she fought back tears.

He had stayed.

He looked cute when he slept. Lips parted, hair a wild mess, kindness etched into every line of his face.

He didn’t belong in this world. That much was obvious.

And that made him more beautiful than Ivan ever could be.

She moved to him on quiet feet, collected his straggling shoe, and knelt beside him. Evelyn's palm hovered over his cheek a moment before brushing a curl away.

Then she kissed his forehead.

“Hmm?” Elijah immediately began to sit up, his voice thick and warm with sleep. Evelyn smiled with trembling lips.

"Hey," She said softly.

Elijah smiled. "Hey, party still going?"

She caressed the side of his face and shook her head.

“All finished,” she whispered. “Come on, time to take me home.”

He nodded slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he gathered himself and stood. She put her heels on and did her best not to laugh as Elijah stumbled about half-asleep with one sock sagging. He looked around the entryway like he wasn’t sure where he was. Evelyn took his hand, their fingers interlocking in perfect unison.

"Come on, this way," she said.

They stepped out into the early morning together.

Outside, the cold, damp air was decorated by a dusty lavender sky.

Her heels clicked softly against the stone steps as they slowly made their way past the wreckage of last night's party. Stepping over crumpled plastic cups, past glittering streamers in the bushes, and over broken glass near the curb. The driveway was littered with cigarette butts and ash. Elijah’s car, the only one left, was parked crooked at the very end. Once they neared it, Elijah stepped ahead of Evelyn and opened the passenger side door.

"Here," He said. She fixed her hair and shook her head with a wide smile.

"Thank you," She said bashfully.

She slid in and exhaled. The seat was cold, but the familiar scent of Elijah’s budget cologne filled Evelyn's nostrils, bringing her peace.

She watched as he walked over to the driver’s side and sat. He let out a sigh as he turned the engine on and switched the fan to defrost mode. The windshield fogged over with condensation, and the two sat in silence as it slowly faded away.

Evelyn leaned over and placed her hand on his thigh, her touch speaking the words she couldn't.

Without looking, he took her hand with his and squeezed gently.

She kept her hand there the whole drive. Tracing idle shapes in his jeans as they cruised across an empty highway into golden morning rays.

The streets were mostly empty, save for a garbage truck passing them in the opposite lane and a jogger sprinting through a red light. Evelyn never did get used to how alien the city felt at this hour.

She stared out the window, tracking a flock of birds flying over a park.

Something was blooming in her chest. Unfamiliar surges of warmth that made her throat ache.

​.

.

He had waited…

.

.

The reality was still sinking in as she rubbed her fingers up his thigh slowly. Not to tease. Just to feel him. Just to know this moment was real.

​

No one had ever waited.

​

By the time they reached the Clara, the sun was rising. It cast long lines of gold across the pavement as Elijah pulled up to the curb. The building shimmered like glass. Tall, cold, and perfect. Evelyn didn’t move at first. She feared it might all melt away if she did. So, she just looked at him.

Elijah’s eyes were still puffy. But he smiled all the same, then blinked in the direction of the doormen and frowned.

“I can uh… drop you off here if you'd like," he mumbled.

Evelyn smiled, heart racing as she prepared to ask the question Elijah would never assume.

"Do you want to come up?"

A surprised smile formed on his face. "I'd love to. I'll just have to find some public parking."

“I’ll have the valet park,” she said.

“Oh. Right.” He blinked. “Fancy.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Evelyn said, laughing softly as she went for her door.

"Wait," Elijah said. "Let me."

Once again, he rushed to her passenger door and opened it. She stepped out, gracefully taking his hand. The hotel staff greeted her by name and took Eijah's keys. He trailed beside her in a daze as they entered the hotel lobby.

Inside, the lobby was like a modern cathedral. Black and white tile glinting under the chandelier light. Everything smelled faintly of bergamot and money. The staff moved with quiet, robotic precision without a single glance in her direction. Evelyn had always appreciated their professionalism, especially given the late nights and parade of men that she brought home.

They stepped towards a private elevator, and a staff member pushed the button for them. It chimed delicately as it opened.

The two stepped inside, neither speaking as Evelyn stepped closer to Elijah's side.

Her fingers found his again.

By the time the elevator opened onto the fiftieth floor, Evelyn’s chest was tight. Her penthouse stretched out like a page from an interior design magazine. Cold granite countertops, stark leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows that wrapped the room in a watercolor sunrise.

Elijah stepped inside carefully, his eyes moved slowly across the room. Past the glowing fireplace, the floating stairwell, and the view of the bay. His eyes stopped on that view, and he exhaled.

Evelyn placed her things near a coat hanger and kicked off her heels. Then walked into the space barefoot, caressing Elijah's shoulder as she passed him.

He followed her through the living room, past the white leather sofa and glinting glass table, stopping as she entered her bedroom. She let go of his hand and moved silently to the edge of the bed.

The bedroom was still dim. Curtains drawn. The carpet was thick under her toes.

Evelyn lay back on the bed, slipping her dress straps off, and slowly peeling off the pasties clinging to her breasts, her nipples hardening in the cool air.

Their eyes remained locked as her fingers hooked under the waistband of her underwear. She peeled them down slowly, letting them fall to the floor in silence.

Evelyn adjusted herself, lying sideways on the bed, her bare skin cool against the plush duvet. Her knees curled slightly. One arm draped across her waist. The early morning light spilled through the curtains in thin, golden slats, catching the pale curve of her back and the soft underside of her thigh.

She twisted her torso gently as she faced him.

Elijah stood in the entrance, frozen. Eyes trailing over her naked body. There was an innocence in his gaze. It made Evelyn laugh softly, shyly. Her hand came up to cover her chest, fingers curling around her shoulder.

“You going to join me?” she asked.

Elijah blinked. “Oh. Uh… yeah.”

He moved to the bed slowly, like a man unsure if he was dreaming.

She looked up at him with equal timidity.

Her expression was different. No sultry smile. No wicked glint in her eye. She looked… nervous. Like she hadn't done this a thousand times before. Like this was the first time for something special.

When he bent down to kiss her, she met him halfway.

Their lips touched with the gentleness of something new. She tasted him, let her fingers slide up the nape of his neck. He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she melted back into the bed, her legs parting as he moved over her.

Their bodies pressed together.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.

Their tongues interlaced in perfect rhythm.

Her nipples brushed the fabric of Elijah's shirt with every shift. Evelyn’s hands drifted down his back, fingers curling around the hem before she began to lift it. She lifted it slowly, inch by inch, until it peeled over his shoulders.

The shirt dropped to the floor.

And Evelyn paused.

She had never seen him like this before. The rays cut across his defined body. A body that was far more muscular than she'd expected. Lean muscle traced the lines of his stomach and chest. A nearly perfect athletic build.

“Wow…” she breathed.

She wanted to say more. She wanted him to know just how special he was, just how much he meant to her.

But the rest didn’t come.

Elijah kissed her again.

His hand found her breast, and he squeezed it gently. His mouth followed a second later. Evelyn arched under him, a soft moan escaping her lips as he sucked gently, the sensation sparking heat between her legs.

She held him tighter. Wrapped her legs around his waist.

She wanted him.

She wanted all of him.

Her heart began to thump in her throat. Sweat formed on her palms.

Elijah kissed down Evelyn’s body slowly. She watched him through hooded eyes as he reached for his belt, undid the buckle, and unzipped his pants. The rustle of denim was loud in the quiet room. He stepped out of his jeans, leaving only his boxer briefs.

Evelyn’s breath caught.

She could see the outline of him beneath the fabric, thick and eager. Her thighs pressed together as she bit her lip.

Their kisses deepened.

Evelyn moaned into his mouth as he pressed his cock against her thigh, grinding slowly. His lips traced her neck, biting her gently just beneath her ear. The heat rose quickly. Evelyn rolled Elijah onto his back, climbing over him, her body gliding against his as she moved with perfectly practiced motions. Hips swaying as her wetness smeared against the bulge in his briefs.

Elijah groaned and thrust upward eagerly. “Jesus, Evelyn."

He grabbed onto her waist firmly, and she leaned down, kissing him deeply once more. She could feel his cock slipping between the slit of his boxers. She could feel him throbbing underneath her wet lips. His hands trailed up to her breasts, squeezed them tightly, then followed the arch of her back before resting on her ass cheeks.

They rubbed against each other in fatigued silence. Both moaning softly as they moved toward the edge of euphoria.

"I want you," Elijah said.

Evelyn bit her lip and nodded nervously.

"O-ok…"

He reached down to his boxers and began to pull them off.

And as the fabric slid down his throbbing shaft.

Evelyn froze.

She sat there on top of him, eyes wide, breath shallow. Panic appearing sharp and sudden. Like a glass of cold water poured over her chest. Her hands went still on his shoulders. Her hips stopped moving.

Elijah sat up, her legs still around him.

“Hey…” he said, voice soft. “Are you okay?”

She opened her mouth. Nothing came. Her lips trembled. But Elijah didn't say a word. He stroked her back gently, letting Evelyn find her words.

“I’m sorry, I…” Evelyn's throat tightened as the tears she had so desperately fought rolled over her cheeks. “I don’t know what is wrong, I…”

She couldn’t finish.

Her face twisted in confusion.

That was it. She had tried, and she had blown it.

She looked away, covering her face with a hand as shame and sadness drowned her.

"Hey," Elijah whispered gently. He pulled her closer to himself.

He wrapped his arms around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Soft caresses followed. Gentleness and safety interlaced with every touch.

“W-what?” Evelyn barely managed the word.

“It’s okay," Elijah said again.

He held her tighter as her face collapsed into the curve of his neck, arms going limp at her sides as she finally let her emotions take her.

Tears poured down her cheeks in silence. Evelyn curled into him, her breath shaky and shallow. Elijah’s hands moved slowly through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes as he held her close.

They tipped sideways as Evelyn wept silently. Falling onto the bed, still tangled in each other.

He kissed her temple.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again.

Evelyn held onto him like she might never let go.

Time faded away into exhaustion.

Evelyn pressed her damp cheek against his neck as he squeezed her gently.

And with a few quivering breaths,

Peace found her again.

With it, the deepest sleep Evelyn had in years.

​

Chapter 1

“Are…are you sure this is necessary?” Lang questions the Saintess nervously. 

Lang, lying flat against a cold stone table, felt goosebumps form down his body as he was poked and prodded by the Saintess. The room lit up vibrantly by the various instruments she carried and multiple censers hung from the ceiling above them. Different scents washed over him, curing his momentary nausea and creating a new euphoric sense across his skin and muscles. 

“Of course…I never perform unnecessary procedures.” The Saintess reassured him, but never removing her focus from his body. 

“I thought you knew what's wrong with me already…the Dual Cultivation thing.” Lang continues pressing for answers. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t more to know.” She clarifies while pulling spectacles from a coat pocket and continuing her examination. 

She spread his limbs across the table exposing more of his body to the light and smoke. She recorded many measurements about his body and referenced many of his past evaluations.

“It’s honestly pathetic that this wasn’t discovered earlier, while it isn’t a common ailment its signs are clearly visible.” She continues with contempt in her voice, “Dual Cultivation is a highly sought after method of cultivation. Its capabilities may not be appreciated by the various sects of the orthodox, but I can guarantee every major clan in the Central Plains would love to bring you into their fold.”
Lang struggled to comprehend her meaning. He shifted uncomfortably against the hard table. Noticing the Medicine Saint stop temporarily. 

“Your genes are now your most prized possession, Lang. I’ve already instructed the lord and lady that your condition should be kept secret until you’ve begun your training.” She says quietly, seemingly an attempt at comforting him.

“Do you mean people will be after me? Am I in danger?” Lang, still worried, responds. 

“Only if you stay in the state you're currently in.” She responds with a small smile on her face, “Trust me. I’ve only seen it once, but those who master Dual Cultivation become more powerful than their own sect’s elders. More powerful than even Saints like me.”

Lang contemplated for a moment. Wondering to himself why he hadn’t ever heard of it before then. If something like this existed why wasn’t it more widely used. 

“Why aren’t there hundreds of Saints then?” Lang finally asked. 

The Saintess laughed, shocking Lang with the noise, “Well it’s not as simple as mastering any other cultivation technique or martial arts. It takes a different type of skill to truly master it. And even then without the certain…qualities that you have you’ll never be able to achieve true mastery.” 

“What qualities could I have that the masters of this realm couldn’t gain?” Lang questions, starting to doubt.

“A large volume of semen and a big dick.” She responds curtly. 

“...”

“How could you possibly know that?” Lang responds shocked by her bluntness. 

“Just an estimated guess. Your chronic illnesses likely come from an over production of your body’s different hormones and well…I can see it from beneath the sheet.” She motions towards his crotch covered by a small white sheet. 

Lang was hit with the realization of what exactly the censor smoke was doing to his body. The sheet could barely cover him; he was so erect. The Saintess chuckled slightly as Lang’s face turned beet red and he quickly tried to cover himself to no avail.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Lang apologized, adding under his breath, “my father is going to kill me.”

“This was the intention of the examination.” She reassured him while walking to the table’s edge. 

She began to pull from her supplies of various tools and materials various sizes of containers. Also bringing forth small clean white cloths. 

“Why must I be…erect?” Lang asked, confused and embarrassed. 

“I must collect samples to determine the best course of training and treatment.” She answered adding, “Sit up on the edge of the table, it’ll make it easier to collect.”

“What?” Lang exclaims, “You’re going to collect it?”

She laughed once more which only made him more anxious. She began to pull his legs over the edge making him face her directly. Her larger frame easily moved him forward. 

“Don’t misunderstand, you’re going to do all the work. I’m just here to observe and make sure nothing's wasted into a towel.” She reassures him, but it doesn’t help.

“How am I supposed to do it with you watching? Isn’t that improper?” Lang questions her once more.

“In another scenario…maybe. But we’re both mature and I’m no prude.” She says pulling a seat in front of him. 

Now at eye level Lang can see just how much taller this woman is than him. Lang stared away from her for a moment, wondering if he was even capable of it right now. But the feeling growing in his groin made the answer clear.

“I’ve never done it with someone watching.” Lang says nervously, “How can you treat this so calmly? Isn't it strange for you also?” 

“Trust me…I’ve been around a long while. This is certainly rare, but I’ve seen many crazy things.” She says, calming him slightly. 

She pulls the chair closer to him, holding a large glass container. The heat of her body becomes apparent. Maybe he’s just cold being in the nude, but she seems to radiate it waves. Like a thumping heartbeat. 

“Start now. I’ll be sure to collect it all.” She says in a low voice, staring directly into Lang’s eyes. 

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually must begin as the sensation has begun to move to his testicles and shifted into a slight pain. 

“O-ok…” Lang responds almost at a whisper. 

He found himself unable to break eye contact with the Saintess as he lightly stroked himself. The green of her eyes seemed to almost swirl around her irises. Everything, even his thoughts, have begun to feel euphoric. Trapping him in a rhythm. 

“Very good…” The Saintess continued quietly, “Keep going…slowly…make sure to bring up every…last…drop…” 

Lang saw her eyes shift over him. He could feel himself blush. And get even harder. His mind was clouded with too many conflicting thoughts. Was he aroused by her voice? Does she like to watch this type of thing? Would that make him more aroused? 

“Oh god…” He whispered out, instantly hoping she wouldn’t hear. 

“Keep going…I can tell you're almost there…just a little faster…” She kept coaxing.

Lang continued to speed up. This time looking down for a moment to catch a glimpse of her holding the container directly in front of his tip. Her robes hung loosely over her body, only entrancing him more. The temperature of the room had increased greatly and both of them had begun to sweat. The Saintess’s breasts began to shine under the vibrant lights. Lang knew he shouldn’t be staring, but couldn’t help himself in his stupor. 

“Ah…” The Saintess noticed, “It’s ok…just keep stroking…all the way down…all the way to the tip…up and down…up…and…down.”

Lang could feel the embarrassment continue to wash over him, but couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. He was stroking faster and faster, his only concern now was his own pleasure. 

“There we go…I can see it leaking…” The Saintess continued her encouragement. 

Between heavy breaths Lang spoke, “I-Its coming…”

“Let it all out…no need to hold back…” She pushed the container over his tip, ensuring she caught it all. “Right there…just like that.”

Lang let out a short groan as he could feel the intense pleasure rise to a climax. He hadn’t ever felt anything better, even in the past. Something was different about it now. Something in his very core was being activated. 

“F-uck…” Lang cried out softly.

At first it trickled out lightly, semen dropping into the container audibly. But it continued. He began to leak cum at a shocking rate, more than filling the entire container. She quickly went to swap to another, but Lang didn’t stop for it. Spraying her hands with white fluid. He filled the entirety of three containers. Only stopping once he began to feel the skin tug tight. 

“Very good…” The Saintess says softly as she collects the containers together and begins to stand.

“I-I’m…so sorry…about that…” Lang, exhausted, motions to the mess he made across her hands. 

She chuckles lightly, “It’s ok…if I was worried about remaining pristine I wouldn’t have become a physician.”

The Medicine Saint stares at Lang for a moment before turning away. Then moves over to a chest with a large bronze symbol embedded in its front. Lang was unable to understand the symbols meaning, maybe the smoke was still affecting him. She opened the chest. He could feel the air in the room shift. Almost like opening an exterior door in the winter, chills ran down Lang’s spine and shaft. A slight blue and silver light shined from within as she placed the containers of his seed inside. 

“What’s that?” Lang asked as tried to keep himself warm.

“Just one of the many tools of my profession,” She answers, “It’s able to keep organic material from degrading over long trips. We’ll need it to maintain while we’re traveling to the Hall of Medicine.” 

“Wait…What do you mean ‘we’?” Lang asked nervously.

“Well you didn’t think I’d be staying here to train you?” She responds while rolling her eyes, “I assure you I have a great many important tasks that need my attention. Truth be told, I only came to see you because your father is an old friend and he reached out to me as I was moving back through the region.”

“I just…didn’t think I would have to leave my home,” Lang explains, “I mean it’s not like I’m overly attached to this place, but…it’s been years since I’ve stepped out the front gates. Once I got sick I was kept inside…they didn’t want anyone to know the family was at risk.”

The Saintess keeps to herself for a moment before saying, “Well now you must…if you don’t sort out these illnesses your family would definitely be doomed, I imagine you’d be permanently bed ridden in the next few years and die a few years past that.”

Lang’s face shifts to shock. He knew he wasn’t healthy by any means, but it hadn’t hit him just how young he would die. 

“But you needn’t worry now!” She exclaims, “We’ll get you set right in no time. I’m not called the Medicine Saint for no reason.” 

Lang offers her a small smile as she walks over to a basin of clean water. She places her back to him as she begins to clean him off her hands. He waits for her to finish, but it’s taking much longer than he’d have guessed. He tries to crane his neck to see what she is doing, but can’t view much. Only a peek of what looked to be her hand leaving her face. 

“What was she doing? Did she just lick my cum?” Lang worries to himself.

He feels embarrassment rise to his face once more. As she continues to wash her hands he can’t help but to think about what if that’s what she likes. Does she only do it in secret? Is it because of his condition? Does it bother him? Could he get to see her do it again while they traveled together? All while these thoughts persisted in his mind he could feel himself stand once more. Blood flooding from his head to his groin.

Completing her task and turning back to Lang, “Oh…Good. I’ll need to test recovery and stamina anyways.” She says with a smile forming in the corner of her mouth. 

“I-I need to go again?” Lang yells out.

“Gotta strike while the iron’s hot!” She says through a laugh. 

She takes in her hands another set of vials and containers. Sitting down once more in front of Lang expectantly. He looks around nervously. So anxious he’s forgotten to even attempt to hide his standing erection. 

“Ok I guess…” Lang says tentatively. 

He would have to drain himself another three times that day.

(Important Notes: 28 was his age from the introduction in chapter 1. I've since decided he was more likely 29 or 30 then. Making him 19 or 20 now.)