Corruption of a Geek Goddess Pt. 02

"Mmm, god damn, Chelsea! I can not get over this ass..." His free hand started rubbing & grabbing at it, then reared back and came down with a hard slap that reverberated through the room. Chelsea moaned louder.

"Mmmm, Fuck! Dylan, baby, it's so fucking good!" Then, almost in a whisper: "Do it again." He spanked her a second time, on the other cheek, and I saw a shiver run through Chelsea's whole body. Jesus, he was playing her body like a fiddle.

Dylan tilted the camera up again just as Chelsea looked back at him; her brow was furrowed like she was in deep concentration, trying to comprehend what he was doing to her. It took her a second to see the phone.

"Are you filming again?"

"Hell yeah."

"Oh my god..." She turned away like she was embarrassed until he gave her one more smack on her ass.

"Come on, don't be shy. He'll want to see."

She turned her head back around, biting her lip as she looked at the camera. "H-hi, honey... I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am, I just -- ohhh, fuck that feels... ah!"

"Good girl!"

He let her off the hook and carried on slamming into her at healthy pace. A minute later he tilted the camera back down as his free hand began playing with her ass, threatening stick a finger in.

"Stop! Haha..." Chelsea's always been dead-set against any anal play, one of the few things that was a hard-line "No" in the bedroom. And she'd just said No again... but in a playful way, like she didn't really mean it. God, who was this woman in the video? Dylan had no trouble picking up on her not-quite-red light. He would keep going.

"Hang on," he said, "I got this." The video ended there, as he apparently needed both hands to do whatever it was he intended to do to my fiancée.

Third Video - Spooning

The video was blurry at the start. When it came into focus I could see that the phone was pointed at the bed, apparently propped up on the table next to it. Chelsea was lying on her side, facing the camera, with Dylan behind her, spooning. It wasn't the frantic, energetic, purposeful fucking from before, so at first it looked like they were just cuddling; it took me a second to realize they were still going at it. (Or going at it again, I guess, not that I had any way of knowing.) It was more laid-back this time; they seemed distressingly comfortable with each other.

Dylan had his arm wrapped around her chest and was languidly sawing into her, just out of frame. And Chelsea was loving it -- smiling, beatific, like there was nowhere on Earth she'd rather be than right there, in his arms. His hand was gently caressing her breast while she gave out a never-ending series of oohs and ahs.

"Ohhhhh Dylan, mmmm... oh it's so nice... heheh, I can't believe it took me so long -- I really am sorry..."

"You're forgiven -- just don't make me wait again, ok?"

"MMMmmmm... never again, I promise--ooh!" When she said that, Dylan's mouth latched onto her neck and stayed there like he was a goddamn vampire, no doubt biting and sucking like he owned it. Owned her. Shit. I already knew that that would leave a hickey for me to find -- he was planting evidence of their tryst on her body, something she couldn't hide even if she later wanted to. Clearly, he wasn't worried about my reaction.

When he finally disengaged from her neck, I saw Chelsea reach up and take his hand from her breast, then guide it down out of frame; Dylan's muscular arm began flexing in a way that made it clear he was working her clit as they fucked. A wave of giddy excitement washed over her already blissful face and a long, loud "oooooohhhhh" came from somewhere deep within her. Dear god. She looked like someone who was being satisfied on a spiritual level, not just a sexual one.

And just when I thought the scene couldn't get more agonizing, I saw it: Chelsea opened her eyes, found the camera, and looked right at the lens. Right at me. Her face slowly morphed into a mischievous and riotously content smile while she held my stare through the camera. Jesus. Was she showing off? Taunting me? Daring me not to enjoy what she was doing like the hopeless pervert I'd proven myself to be? And, god help me, on some level... I was enjoying it.

After 22 seconds of that beautiful torture, her hand reached out and stopped the recording.

Fourth Video - The Blowjob

Dylan was once again filming. This time he was lying back on the bed, holding the phone, pointing it down his body as the love of my life slobbered all over his erect cock. At the edge of the screen I could see the window: the sky was beginning to brighten. They'd fucked all night and into the dawn.

Chelsea seemed different. Before she'd seemed embarrassed, camera-shy, worried about hurting my feelings. But spending the entire night in bed with Dylan had changed her. She's always been a natural performer, and now she was embracing a new role. As she licked and sucked and kissed all over him, she'd steal knowing glances up at the camera, and the man holding it. If I'd thought she might have been showing off before, now there was no doubt. She was enjoying a long, sinful night of sexual abandon with her new lover, and she was flaunting it for me, loving it, without a hint of shame. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Haha, having fun?" Dylan asked.

"Mmm-hmm!" Huge smile behind her stuffed mouth. She pulled back for a second and looked at the camera, her hand gripping Dylan's hard cock at the base and holding it up right next to her pretty face. "Hey, baby! Like what you see? Heheheh..." Then right back to working on her new man.

She seemed to lose herself in her work. Sucking with gusto, then licking top to bottom and diving down to worship his balls, then planting kisses all up & down the length of his shaft. Sometimes she'd pull back and just stroke it with her hand while she stared at that rock-hard tool in total awe, a joyous disbelief that it was actually in her hands. My god. I recognized that look; anyone would: maybe she wasn't in love with him, but she was clearly falling in love with it.

I saw Dylan's hand reach down to pet her hair and stroke her cheek. Chelsea instinctively tilted her head to lean into the caress; when she glanced up this time, I could tell she was staring past the camera to the man holding it, her eyes filled with wonder.

"You're making me feel so good, Chelsea." Oh, how she loved hearing that. She beamed at him, and I could virtually see her heart skip a beat in joy, like she was a golden retriever who'd just called a 'good girl' -- if she had a tail, it would be wagging. In that moment, it's no exaggeration to say that the most important thing in the world to her was being praised for doing a good job as Dylan's happy little cocksucker.

Apparently that was enough of a knife in my chest; the video ended there.

Fifth Video - I Can't Say It; I Can't Even Think It

The first thing I saw was Dylan's hand pulling away from the camera; the phone was once again propped up on the bedside table, recording the lovers from the side. Through the window I could see it was now morning and the sun was up -- without question this was filmed no more than a couple hours ago.

Dylan was lying on top of Chelsea, between her legs, no doubt inside of her again; her arms were draped across the back of his neck. They were motionless for a few seconds, just staring deeply into each other's eyes, enjoying some unspoken bond. It was hard to watch, but nothing compared to what came next. Chelsea spoke first:

"Is the camera off?"

"Yes, it's off now."

"Good." Maybe it was a fateful accident, hitting Start when he meant to hit Stop... or maybe he just flat-out lied to her in order to capture an unguarded moment on film. If so, it worked. "I like when it's just us, you know?"

"I know, me too."

"The camera, Mark's fetish, that's just... not why I'm here. You were right. I love him, and I want him to enjoy this, but... but I need a real man in bed. You taught me that. I never knew, I never realized..."

Dylan started tenderly pumping in and out of her once again. "That's right. But now you know..."

"Yes, now I know... ohhh god, oh GOD I know... do it, just do it... take me, Dylan, take me..."

"Mmm, fuck -- you feel so good, baby, so tight, so wet for me." He sped his pace, but just a little, still going slow and gazing lovingly into her eyes; it was so intimate I thought I might die. "And I'm going to... I'm going to take you, Chelsea, take it... take it and make you mine."

"Yessssss... n-no... I can't, I love him, I want to marry him..."

"That's ok, baby, don't worry: I'm willing to share. You're worth it."

Her face lit up. I could see the relief wash over her, like what he'd said... the pledge to 'share' her with her own fiancé... had solved all her problems.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Dylan..." She leaned up and kissed him hard on the lips. "Thank you, daddy..."

Jesus, that word. For one thing, he's 23 years old, just out of college and almost five years younger than we are. "Daddy"? I thought I was numb by this point, but that sent a chill down my spine. What the hell could've happened while the camera wasn't rolling to bring that on? It's like they were busily setting up a new psychosexual hierarchy right there in the bedroom, and I wasn't sure I liked where I'd fit into it.

But I kept watching. After Chelsea's pleading I expected Dylan would once again start up a hard, pounding rhythm. I wish he had. Instead, they kept going at a slow pace. Tender, earnest. Looking longingly into each other's souls as they melted into one. Chelsea's right leg came up and wrapped around Dylan's backside, then stayed there, but not like she was spurring him on -- it was more like a hug. She brought her hand to touch the side of his face, and it too stayed put. Just holding him in place while his hips rolled in and out of her, and she looked at him adoringly, with a warm smile on her face and soft coos spilling from her lips.

I recognized this. I knew what it was -- and it was not what you would call "fucking." No, it was... oh, god.

They shared gentle kisses and words of affection, both deliriously happy. That was hard, but hardest of all were the things I couldn't hear. A whisper, followed by a nod, and a smile, and another kiss. As they slowly, slowly built up steam, Chelsea's words became louder, but not Dylan's, so I could make out only her part of the exchange.

"Mmmm, yes... Next weekend?... Oh! Heheheh, I don't know... Okay... Yes... I promise... No, I want to... Oh, god... you're right, you're so right... So much, you have no idea... No, never... Okay, I'll tell him... Mmmm, Dylan! I do; God help me, I do... Ohhhh--God! Do it, just do it, I will, I promise, just fuck me now! Please, please..."

He did as she asked, quickening the pace of his blows and forcing gasps and little yelps from my helpless girlfriend. Perhaps her seemingly complete submission had gotten to him, because it happened fast now, and within only a minute or so he was on the verge of orgasm.

"Oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum again..."

"Oooooh--yes! Do it! Cum inside me, I love it so much..."

"Ahh! You feel incredible, Chelsea, so fucking sexy... you were made for my cock!"

"YES! I love it!"

"Gonna... fucking... ARGH!"

With a roar he seized up and inseminated my fiancée for at least the second time. I could do nothing but watch -- it was existentially horrifying, but also the most erotically exhilarating thing I'd ever seen. She just looked so inhumanly sexy that I couldn't help but... admire her.

After a minute spent catching their breath and sharing giggles, Dylan climbed off of Chelsea and picked up the phone. Positioning himself at the foot of the bed, he pointed the camera right at Chelsea, right up in between her thighs. When she saw what he was doing, she covered up with her hand and closed her legs, clearly embarrassed.

"Stop! Don't film that..."

"Come on, he'll want to see."

"No, Dylan! It's cruel, he's... not ready for that."

"You said he's your little cuck, remember? He'd love it!"

"No..."

"Alright, fair enough." And then, to me: "Mark, dude, tell her you want to see next time!"

It ended there. Jesus. That last video was by far the scariest. I mean, watching some acrobatic display of raw sexual firepower was one thing. But the emotional connection between them, that closeness -- if she gets that from him... what's left for me?

I was going back over the end of that last video again and again, trying to make out some of what Dylan was saying, when the driver got my attention -- we'd arrived. I walked into my house and, in a bit of foolish optimism, called out to my girlfriend.

"Chelsea? Chelsea!"

But I was alone.

***

I spent an hour going stir crazy at home and trying to process my feelings, trying to figure out what the hell my feelings even were, really. Anger, betrayal, fear, jealousy -- yeah, of course, those were in there. Also guilt & self-loathing: you brought this on yourself, you dumb piece of shit; you drove her to it. That was fun.

But there was also excitement, curiosity. A sense of wonder at unimagined possibilities. And coursing through it all was arousal -- great, frothy rivers of horniness washing away doubts & objections on their way to my crotch. I knew that was fucking with my head, but that didn't mean I could stop it. Honestly I wanted to jerk off, but that felt too much like giving my blessing; I'd just have to stay horny for a while.

At the end of that hour I finally got a text message from Chelsea: "I'll be home soon, just need to stop at the pharmacy first. We'll talk when I get back. I LOVE YOU."

45 minutes later I was staring blankly at the TV when I heard Chelsea unlock the front door; my heart jumped into my throat, but I stood up to greet her. She came in, dropped her bags on the floor, and stopped. For 10 endless seconds we just stood there, facing each other in silence. She spoke first.

"So... how was your flight?"

It was a joke. And, God help me, I laughed. She smiled shyly, nervously, then bounded up to me and gave me a big hug, then a passionate kiss -- I couldn't help but return it. Still hugging me, she said:

"I'm so happy to see you, baby! I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you..." She backed off a step, but held my hands in hers as she looked at me. "Do you hate me?"

"No, Chelz, I don't hate you."

"Did you hate... it?"

"Uhhh... I don't know, it's complicated. Yes... and no. I can't believe you just went and did it like that."

"I know! I'm sorry, I should've asked. Though, I mean... I kinda did ask..."

"Chelsea, come on."

"Sorry, sorry; you're right. I just... I didn't plan it, it just sort of happened. But I swear I wouldn't have done it if I didn't know much you love this stuff. So, I know, I did it in a bad way, but... if I'd really asked, wouldn't you have said Yes?"

"Maybe. I don't know, you probably could've talked me into it. And, yeah, it was hot. Obviously. But that was... it was a hard way to find out. Some of the things he said -- or, god, some of the things you said..."

"Mark, baby, it was just dirty talk, that's all, like the stuff we say to each other in bed. I guess I got a little carried away. But I love you and only you, always. You're the only man I need. And we never have to do anything like that again -- just give the word and I'll block him and we'll never say his name again."

"Really? Because it kinda sounded like you already agreed to another date. Next weekend?" She was clearly surprised, embarrassed.

"Oh. God. You saw that part?" I nodded. "Sorry. Really, I didn't mean it. I was just telling him what he wanted to hear. I only want you, for the rest of my life, no matter what."

"Alright, but... how do I know you're not just telling me what *I* want to hear?"

"Well... we send out the wedding invitations in two weeks, right? No going back then. When I drop those in the mail, you'll know." There was a pause while she watched me mull it over. I'm sure she could see I wasn't entirely convinced, and that I had a hundred more questions. But I wouldn't get to ask them just yet. "Listen, we'll talk about everything, as much as you want, I swear... oh GOD do I love you! I'm so lucky to have you. But, I've been up all night -- I mean, I guess you knew that -- and if I don't get into a bed now I'm gonna collapse."

She kissed me again, tenderly. Sincerely, I think. Then she started off to our bedroom. After five paces she stopped and looked over her shoulder at me.

"You coming?"

In spite of everything, there was only one thought left in my head at that moment: I had never wanted her more.

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Thanks for reading! If you liked the story, if you have any thoughts, please let me know by voting or commenting -- whether it's a thoughtful critique or a simple "good job," comments from readers are extremely important and sincerely appreciated. I take feedback on my stories seriously, and I try to respond to questions & ideas in the comments. You can find more contact info on my profile.

Very special thanks to Nora, whose considered feedback helped bring much of this chapter into focus.

I have ideas for a third and final chapter, but no promises on if or when it happens. We'll see how well people like this one.

Questions for discussion : Are we mad at Chelsea? Is she just horny and selfish and lying to herself? Is she gaslighting and manipulating Mark? Or is she being pushed by Mark and pulled by Dylan in such a way that's she's the one being manipulated? Or, conversely, is there really no problem (yet)? Who's your favorite Point of View character? If there is a Part 3, do we want total cuckold depravity, a happy ending, or both? Decisions, decisions...