Corruption of a Geek Goddess Pt. 02

Right then and there I made two decisions. First: I would not be coming clean about what happened with Dylan. Not now, and maybe not ever. It was never ever ever going to happen again, and Mark was just so happy and excited, so energized by our newly-spicy sex life, so committed to our love and our future together. Confessing would wreck all that and crush the love of my life. Maybe we would work through it eventually, but if I told him about Dylan I'd just be offloading this burden from me to him in order to ease my own conscience. And, look: I'm no angel, but I'm not that selfish.

And the second thing I decided: I owed him. He'd never know it (please god), but I'd be working off a huge debt for years to come. If I owed him, then he had to get something out of this clusterfuck of my own creation, even if the whole thing now scared the hell out of me. So, I wouldn't back off from this fantasy of his. No more games with Dylan, but when we're alone together I can give him the hottest possible version of the fantasy, as much as he wants. And I'd start paying back my debt tonight.

"Nooo, sweetie, I like to see you turned on, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about." I kept on lightly squeezing that bulge inside his pants.

"I guess I know that, maybe. And I loved watching you be so sexy and flirty, like you wouldn't even believe. But, my god... Dylan knew. Maybe not exactly, but he could tell something was going on. It's bad. And his hands were all over you, and... he'd look me right in the eyes sometimes while it happened, like he was... I don't know. Proud? Proud of, I guess, being the one to do that. Proud of... taking you... ugh, oh fuck..."

When Mark said that last part he shut his eyes and I felt his dick throb in my hand; his hips jerked forward, trying to get more contact, and he moaned. All while reliving the "bad" part of last night.

"Hmm. So you liked watching your girlfriend act naughty?"

"So much. So, so much."

"But that's not the only part you liked, right?"

"What... what do you mean?"

"I mean, I know you got off on watching me. But didn't you also like that you had to just watch me? That Dylan was touching your girl and you weren't? That he could touch me... and you couldn't?"

"Jesus, Chelsea..." Mark squirmed and broke eye contact, but that boner in my hands didn't miss a beat.

"Babe, it's ok! You said it yourself: it's kinda like he was taking me. From you. And he let you know it, too. Didn't he? Do you think I'd let that happen if I couldn't see how much the idea excited you?" He didn't respond, just laid there next to me with his eyes closed. "Honey, come on! You can tell me if I'm wrong, that's totally fine. But I'm not, right? That was the part that really got you hot, wasn't it?"

"... Yes." He still couldn't look at me as he answered.

"I know. And it was hot: big, strong Dylan... your little girlfriend in his arms... letting him do whatever he wanted... getting wet for him... for him, instead of you..." At that, Mark finally opened his eyes; he was breathing heavy, and I could feel his pulse going wild through his dick. "Baby, it's fine. It's a good thing, I just want you to have--"

That's as far as I got. In the middle of that sentence, Mark leapt on top of me and started yanking my clothes off like a man possessed. It was wild, I've never seen him out of control like that. In about 5 seconds flat I was naked, and he immediately ripped off his pants and underwear; he didn't bother with the shirt. I could see he was about to fuck me straight away, but I stopped him.

"Lick it, baby. You're so good with your tongue..."

He didn't argue, just dove into my pussy with that manic energy and started going to town. After only a few seconds his head popped up; he didn't look at me, just kept his eyes on my crotch with a look of wonder as he spoke.

"Oh my god, Chelz, you're fucking soaked." I grabbed his hair and pulled his face back down onto me.

"That's because of you, baby, you get me so hot..." It wasn't the whole story, but what was I supposed to say? Besides, it's no bullshit what I'd told him: he really is a first-rate pussy-eater. I lay there for a just minute, moaning & squirming, my hand still holding him in place. I was already about to cum, which I guess is what inspired me to do something extra naughty: tell the truth, just a little.

"MmmmMMMmm, Mark, baby, you're so good at that, you make me so wet... but maybe it isn't all because of you. Would you like that, baby? Knowing that your friend got me hot? Knowing that Dylan isn't even here and he still makes your girl wet just thinking about him? Oh, fuck, is that the kind of thing you like hearing about now?" He kept working, but as I talked his eyes were on mine, feral. "Mmmm, I guess my boyfriend's a little perverted, heheh... that's ok, maybe I am, too... and I love my little pervert. You just keep licking, baby, keep swallowing all that juice I'm leaking for Dylan, keep on--oh, shit!"

It was too much for him to take. He broke my grasp on his hair and got into position between my legs. Somehow, in the midst of this frenzy, Mark had the presence of mind to reach over and grab a condom from the bedside table, and that brought my guilt roaring back. Jesus. Part of me actually liked the idea of watching Mark wear a rubber while Dylan got to hit it raw -- what the fuck is wrong with you, Chelsea??? -- but I just couldn't do it to him. On the (somewhat) off chance that this was a risky time, that I could actually get knocked up from allowing (begging) Dylan to cum in me, I had to give Mark's swimmers at least some chance... even if Dylan got a head start.

So I reached down to stop Mark from opening the wrapper; he looked at me, surprised.

"It's fine, screw the condom."

"You sure?"

"Yes, trust me, one-time treat. Just... Oh Christ, baby, just fuck me already!"

That's all the convincing he took. He tossed the unopened wrapper aside and climbed aboard, and a second later he slid into my drenched hole with heart-warming sigh; I loved hearing him let out that noise; I loved seeing the wide-eyed look on his face; I loved feeling how hard he was -- how hard I'd made him. And I loved how desperate he was, how driven to pound into me harder than ever before. It reminded me of last night, the way Dylan had throttled my whole fucking being with those powerful, merciless thrusts that made cum like an atom bomb and showed me a whole new w--

No! Fuck! Chelsea, can't you make love with your boyfriend for two goddamned minutes without fantasizing about... him???

As it turned out, no, I couldn't. Not like this. I tried, but the more Mark slammed into me in this way, the more I thought about when I'd been in this same position in this same bed not even a full day before. The way Dylan was larger, stronger. The way his cock was just a little bit longer, and thicker, and harder. The way he didn't need my permission take me bare. I just couldn't stop comparing the two men -- and as long as Mark insisted on taking me like this, it was a comparison he was going to lose.

"Wait, Mark -- fuck! -- baby, slow down, slow down... let's make it last, ok?" I needed to get out of that headspace, and anyway savage fucking isn't really what I want from Mark, you know? We could make love -- he was still the king of that.

And he slowed down almost instantly. It looked like it was a struggle for him, but he did it. He's such a considerate lover, always willing to do it the way I want. Even if he's wild with lust, almost out of his mind, he'll let me have that kind of control. Not at all like Dylan. Dylan wouldn't give me control: he'd just show me I didn't need any control... just take what he wanted and give me what I needed and make me lose my mind and scream my cum-flooded head off. (Shit, you're doing it again.)

Anyway, Mark slowed down. And he kissed me and told me he loved me and that I was beautiful, and I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back and told how much I cherished him, and I meant it with every atom in my body. This is what Mark can give me that no one else can. It was exquisite, and I let him know it.

"Thank you, baby. You feel so good inside me... I love you so, so much..."

"I love you too; god, Chelsea, I'm so lucky I found you. And, my god, this is... thank you... for last night..."

"You really liked it, baby? You promise?"

He shut his eyes and nodded, and I could see where his head was still at. His body was making love with me in the here & now, but in his mind he was struggling to get away from what he'd seen last night. Probably struggling not to cum, too.

Okay: if that's where he was at, I would meet him there. I wrapped my arms around him, pulled his head down into the crook of my neck, and started to whisper in his ear.

"Mmm, that's good. I'm glad you liked it, honey. I liked it, too. I liked when Dylan touched me, and I liked it when he said I looked sexy, and I liked seeing how hot it made you... but what I really liked was seeing how far he'd go in front of you." As soon as I started talking like this Mark quickly began to speed up -- I doubt it was even voluntary. I knew he'd be cumming soon.

"And I'll bet he could've done anything... I'll bet you never would have stopped him... ooh, baby, I don't know if I could've stopped him either... but that's ok, right? You'd understand -- right, honey? Because I'll bet... oh my god, baby... I'll bet you wanted me to fuck him--"

It was too much for him: Mark began groaning into the mattress and frantically thrusting his hips into me. I held him tighter as he declared what was already obvious.

"Oh GOD, Chelsea! I love you, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum..."

"It's ok, baby... you can cum in me, I want you to..."

"Oh, fuck! I will! I'm gonna cum in you, I'm gonna -- Ahh FUCK! I'm cumming, I'm cumming..." I felt his dick twitching inside me as his whole body tensed up, and I knew he was taking his shot.

God damn it. This whole day had been one long lie of omission, and of course that made me feel like shit. But still I never lied to him directly, never looked him in the eye and said something false, and that was somehow important to me -- I didn't lie to him... until this moment.

As my adoring fiancé had maybe the biggest orgasm of his life and announced that he was cumming inside of me for the first time in years, I held the back of his head, ran my fingers through his hair, and told him: "Cum in me, babe. It's yours, it's all yours..."

Mark

Thank god for Chelsea. It could've been a horror show getting found out as a guy who seems to get off on the idea of his girlfriend fooling around with someone else. It could have been the kind of horror that comes from a disgusted reaction from your partner, of course (though Chelsea's too gracious and open-minded to let that happen). But really it could have been a horror of my own making: feeling ashamed, hiding it, denying it, getting defensive, and so on. Instead, I have a partner who doesn't just accept this kink, but also draws it out of me, helps me face it and get pleasure out of it.

And, god damn, what a powerful fantasy. I grew up like everyone else these days -- that is to say, marinating in internet porn, falling down one kinky rabbit hole or another. And some of those rabbit holes are hot; I've definitely got my favorites. But all the same I've always thought of myself as pretty vanilla: I like good sex with hot, naked women who are nice to me. At the end of the day, that's my kink.

Or so I thought, because this thing with Dylan has been a complete and utter mindfuck. I can't stop myself from thinking about it, and every time I think about it the effect seems to get stronger. The day after the workout, when Chelsea was out running errands, I jerked off twice in just a few hours and was still desperate to get her into bed when she came home. While we were having sex I tried to put it out of my mind so I could last longer, but it was a struggle; I just kept picturing the two of them, or flashing back to that dream I had the night before, mixing up the naughty Chelsea from my perverted subconscious with the real one in bed with me. And she could tell where my head was really at, because she started to tease me, to poke at that fantasy and bring it out into the open, and that was the end of my trying not to cum too fast.

We spent a few days after that dancing around the subject, and a couple days after that trying & failing to talk about it because, frankly, every time we did I'd get worked up and we'd wind up in bed.

But eventually we managed to get through an actual discussion about it. Naturally, it happened in bed, right after yet another sex session where she'd pushed my buttons. She was quiet for a bit, seemed to be thinking about something, and then turned to face me.

"So, you like this stuff, right? I mean, I know it makes you horny or whatever, but other than that it doesn't drive you crazy or make you feel guilty or anything, does it? Because I'm basically insulting you all the time, and it's not worth it if it makes you feel like shit, even if it does get you off."

"No. No, you're good, Chelz." I stopped there, but I could tell she wanted a little more. "Okay, yes, it's kinda awkward, and at first it did make feel a little guilty, ashamed. Or, no. Not ashamed, but just a little bit of, 'what the hell is wrong with me?' But it passed, mostly, and that's thanks to you."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, of course. You never make me feel bad about it, never seem to think less of me. And you're the only one whose opinion I actually care about. You didn't even bat an eye when it turned out that I wasn't just an upstanding, respectable voyeur, that it was a little more screwed up than that."

"Hey, it's just my superpower: as long as you're not out there fucking dogs, I won't ever be offended by the sex stuff in your head. You can tell me anything. And, speaking of which, like... what is it about this that turns you on so much? Why is this sexy for you?"

"I don't know. 'Emotional masochism'? Ha, that's the best I've got. Denial, a little humiliation, the idea of you doing something with another guy and throwing it in my face. It's like, 'ouch, it hurts so much'... but also, 'fuck, that's so hot.' Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely! And good for you for being able to own it." There was a pause as Chelsea kinda looked off to the side and bit her lip, clearly thinking about what to say next. "But, you know, I think there is a word for that fantasy. Starts with a 'C', ends with an 'old'..."

"Oh shit. You're killing me, Chelz, haha... I've been trying to avoid that idea. I mean it's not the most flattering label for a... I don't know, but I don't think that's it exactly. Maybe I'm being silly."

"No! Baby, no, not silly at all. You know your fantasy better than I do." She snuggled up against me, resting her head on my chest, and I just held her for a few moments of comfortable silence before she asked an uncomfortable question: "And it is a fantasy, right? Or are you thinking maybe you want us to... play? In real life I mean."

"No, just a fantasy, I promise. I don't think I could handle it in real life. Maybe after a while, if you want, we can think about trying some more flirting, that kind of thing. But just for fun. In real life I want you all to myself."

"Ok. All for you, I promise," she said, then squeezed me tightly for a few seconds. "I'm so lucky to have you, babe. I love you."

"Please, I'm the lucky one, anyone can see that. Let's get some sleep."

***

I felt better after our talk. Less conflicted. Over the next couple weeks life went on: we kept having plenty of sex, and Chelsea kept teasing me about wanting to sleep with other guys (usually Dylan). Her dirty talk slowly got more explicit, and also more pointed... maybe even crueler. Not real cruelty, of course: she only ramped up the taunts and humiliation because she could see it kept getting me off. And it did. I never did quite get comfortable with that C-word as a label, but as time went on it became harder and harder to come up with ways in which it didn't apply. Chelsea didn't push it.

I told her at one point that she didn't have to cater to my fantasies every time, that we can mix it up and play whatever games she'd be into. But she said she kinda liked my fantasy, too, and loved seeing me happy. I made sure she knew there was no obligation, but still we wound up talking about her hypothetical infidelity most times we had sex, and it kept getting raunchier as we went.

So the way it worked out, the only downside of that one night was that things were a little awkward with Dylan. I don't know, maybe we should have just talked about it openly with him, but instead Chelsea & I just kinda distanced ourselves, not keeping in touch like we had been. When he implied in the group chat that maybe we should get together to hang out soon, Chelsea just looked at me to see if it was something I wanted to do. When I didn't give a reaction at first, she shook her head and made a face that meant 'nah.' That was just fine with me.

Dylan

I was pretty sure Chelsea would be coming back for more -- I just wasn't sure when. In my experience there were a couple different ways it could go. She'd be feeling guilty, I knew that. (She shouldn't, seeing as her boyfriend watched her throw herself at me all night and probably put her up to it in the first place, but I get it.) And there was a chance she'd want to forget her guilt by distracting herself with more sex, in which case maybe I'd see her in just a few days. Ironic, I know, but it happens.

But most likely she'd keep telling herself it was a mistake, won't ever happen again, blah blah blah, in which case I'd have to help ease her back into it. And that's fine -- this whole thing started because I like flirting with Chelsea, remember? So I texted her the day after the workout, just checking in.

"heyyy. how are you feeling? hung over?"

She left me on 'Read' all day, which normally never happens -- she always texted me back right away -- but that wasn't surprising. She finally replied (barely) the next afternoon.

"I'm fine, thanks. Hope you're doing ok, too." I gave a thumbs-up emoji and left it there. After that, I made sure touch base regularly, both with Chelsea and in the group chat with Mark, keeping those lines of communication open, acting like nothing was different. They were each maybe a little less eager to chat than before, but we stayed in touch.

I kept it innocent for nine whole days, until Mark & Chelsea posted a new video to their channel. Chelsea was dressed a tiny bit more revealing than usual, and I thought that might be a signal. So, in the group text, I wrote, "loved the new video, great job!" And at the same time, to Chelsea, I wrote, "loved that outfit, so sexy!" That finally got a response from her.

"Don't do that. I really think that night was a mistake, and I just want to move past it. Can we PLEASE just leave it alone and pretend it never happened?"

Uh huh, whatever you say. I could have argued, pointed out how she's the one who made it happen or how she was being a lot more honest with herself while she was cumming her brains out, but why should I fight that battle when she would do it for me? I knew she wasn't ready to leave this alone. If I backed off, she'd eventually follow.

So, I just wrote back, "sure thing," followed by nothing -- a few days of radio silence. In that time I posted lots of new pics and videos online, including some posts that made it clear I was spending time with other girls. Chelsea follows all my social media, so I knew she'd see that. And I knew she liked all that praise & attention I'd lavished on her the past couple months. She'd miss it. If she didn't take the bait I would figure out something else, but I felt pretty confident I'd be hearing from her. And I did.