Corruption of a Geek Goddess Pt. 03

When we got there he ordered me to take off his clothes — not in a harsh way, like domineering. Just matter-of-fact, like he was giving instructions to a housekeeper. And, Christ, why did THAT turn me on?

A second later his shirt was off and I was on my knees in front of him. Just as I grabbed his waistband to peel off his shorts, his cell phone buzzed.

"Hang on," he said. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the screen while I just knelt there, still clutching his waistband, staring up at him past that chiseled torso. Waiting for further instructions. I watched him read whatever was on the screen, then he broke into a wicked smile and chortled like an old-timey robber baron. "Ohh-heheh-hahahaha..."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Haha ... I'll tell you later. Keep going."

Ok. Once we were both naked we tumbled onto the mattress where we laid down and made out like teenagers for a minute. In between kisses Dylan stopped to ask a question.

"So, you really talked him into it?"

"Kinda, I guess..." It was embarrassing. That's not how I liked to think about it, even if I couldn't exactly disagree.

"Good girl. But if he hadn't gone for it, would you still be here?"

God damn you, Dylan. I paused. I didn't want to ask myself that question, and I sure as shit didn't want to answer it. Instead I just looked away for a second then pressed my lips back against his. I guess that was enough of an answer for him, because he let it go.

While we kissed I'd run my hand along his bulging arm then up his six-pack abs and rigid pecs and then back down to his impressive manhood, just trying to drink him in, to convince myself that this prime specimen of masculinity was real, and mine. Oh my god, Chelsea, you're in trouble ... how are you ever going to give this up?? Fuck it. Worry about that later.

When I couldn't wait any longer I pushed Dylan down, swung my leg over his waist, and got myself in position to mount him. I was sitting there on top of him and grinding my dripping-wet kitty up & down the underside of his shaft, pretty much out of my mind with anticipation, when Dylan picked up his phone to shoot more video.

"Oh man, that's a sight I could get used to," he said with the phone pointed down at me. "How about it, Chelsea? Is this gonna be a regular thing?"

"Hell yes, I need it ... sorry, honey, but I do. Oh fuck, I need it now." I started to lift myself up into position, but Dylan stopped me; he had something I guess he wanted to get on camera first.

"Hang on, Princess, one more question ... did you bring any condoms?" He already knew the answer, of course. I sucked in air through my nose, bit my lip, and shook my head No. He pretended to be worried. "Oh no! Shouldn't I grab one?"

Again I shook my head, now smiling in conspiratorial glee. "Don't you dare..."

"Haha, you hear that, Mark? You're marrying such a bad girl. She knows I'm gonna fill her up ... so you won't even get to be the only one who cums in her..."

"Actually," I started to say, then stopped myself. Oh, right. Shit. Dylan didn't really know this part. I mean, he'd heard me mention condoms to Mark as part of that kinky roleplay on the phone last weekend, but he couldn't know how real it was, that my boyfriend always wore a condom, or that we'd decided to keep it that way even now. For a split second I thought maybe I shouldn't say anything, because Oh! Poor Mark, how humiliating! But then I realized that Dylan would enjoy knowing. And he fucking deserved it.

"Actually ... he's not allowed inside me bare. Not ever. That's just for you, Daddy..."

I was right: Dylan liked it. He really liked it. His chest puffed up, his eyes widened, and his free hand shot out to grab my breast hard, possessively.

"Oh, shit! Sorry buddy, I'll film more later. I have to fucking breed your girlfriend now."

He tossed the phone on the bed, then grabbed my hips with both hands and tossed me on the bed. Before I even knew what was happening he'd flipped me over onto my stomach, knelt behind me, and then roughly yanked my ass up into an ideal mating position. There was no more teasing or taunting now — just raw fucking. I could tell he needed this as much as I did, and I loved it.

I was so goddamned wet and ready for him I was probably leaking. I felt his cockhead make contact and start to push in and I heard a woman's voice moaning 'Ohhhhyessss.' He sunk all the way in with one long, slow thrust, bottoming out inside of me just as his hips pressed up against my backside — a perfect fit. He was nice enough to give me four or five slow pumps to let me get used to it, but then he couldn't hold back the animal drive to take the female in front of him any longer. His hips began a hard & purposeful rhythm, slamming at an almost downward angle that pushed my face against the sheets every time.

There was no talking. There were gasps & moans & grunted obscenities spilling from our lips, but no conversation, no naughty dirty talk. No romance, either — just an overwhelming animal need. The embarrassing truth about Mark and the condoms had clearly awakened something in Dylan, and in me as well. It just felt so natural, so right, to be in that position with that man, my hindquarters raised in invitation to the stronger, fitter male while he takes his prize and prepares to fill me with his seed.

I'd never really been turned on by this sort of thing before — pregnancy was just a complication, something to work around — but now the tiny piece of me that could still form thoughts realized: Oh, I get it ... thank god it's a safer time in my cycle, because there's no fucking way I'd ever let him pull out.

We were frantic; it didn't take long this time. I came, shivering and gasping for air, and Dylan kept right on fucking me. A couple minutes later I was somehow nearing another orgasm when Dylan announced he was ready to do his part.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum, Princess!"

"YES!"

"Whose cum do you want inside you??"

"YOURS! Only yours!"

"Fucking tell me why you're here!"

"I'm here for ME! I needed it again! I was always coming back to youuuu...!"

That confession was enough for him: just a few seconds later Dylan tensed up, clenched his fingers around my waist hard enough to leave a bruise, holding me in place, then grunted and fired a load of his cum right into the deepest part of me. I fucking felt it, this slippery wetness warming me up from the inside, and ... nirvana. The release of a tension I didn't even know was there. That warmth put out the fire inside me. I felt whole.

When he was done we fell forward onto the bed and tried to catch our breath. I looked over at him, and he looked at me, and we broke out in spontaneous giggles. I knew that this kind of joy was addictive, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Good. Be addicted.

***

I stayed at Dylan's for four hours that day. We fucked a second time not long after the first, and shot some more footage for Mark. We washed up, had a snack. I lazily sucked his cock on the couch while he watched TV and rubbed my back like a good girl. We fucked yet again, and this time we'd calmed down enough to let some romance into it — no cameras that time; that was just for us. That kind of tenderness always felt like the most taboo thing, the biggest betrayal of all ... which somehow only made it even hotter.

After that last fuck I knew it was time to go, but I didn't take a shower. Instead I slid my panties right back on and got ready to head home. Dylan walked me to the door; he gave me a goodnight kiss which went on & on, and which made it harder & harder for me to actually leave. When the kiss finally broke he held me with his forehead pressed against mine, his hand stroking my cheek.

"So I'll see you again soon, right?" he asked.

"Oh, god yes..."

"And if I asked you not to leave? To just stay here tonight?"

"Ohhh no, Dylan ... you shouldn't ask me that..."

"I know. But ... if I did?"

"Mmmm, fuck, that's not what we ... I mean, um ... are you asking?" Fuck, fuck, fuck...

"Ha-mmm ... nah, I just wanted to know. And now I do." Shit: I guess I knew, too. He kissed me again and grabbed my ass, and a distressingly large part of me was screaming to walk past him right back into his living room. "Okay, you'd better go while you still can. I'll be in touch about next time. And I'll send those clips to Mark after you leave. He'll fucking love it. Oh, Princess, I'm so happy he's ok with this."

"Not as happy as I am..."

Somehow I managed to tear myself away. I got in my car and forced myself to hit the gas, looking back over my shoulder as I peeled out.

As I drove, the spell began to break. The urge to run back to Dylan's bed faded and, more importantly, the thought of going home to Mark stopped feeling like an obligation and instead became a treat: holy shit, I really was eager to get back to him. And I felt good about things: I'd be going home sexually satisfied but also ready for more fun — and totally, crazily in love with my amazing fiancé. This is how it's supposed to work! Outstanding "first date," Chelsea!

Mark

I can't even describe the sensation of sitting at home while the love of your life is off on the four-hour sex date you agreed to, and you just have to wait for her to come back to you. There's nothing happening around you, you're alone and the house is dead quiet, and yet it feels like ... it feels like you're plummeting to the ground at 200 miles-per-hour in a malfunctioning rollercoaster and you just won the lottery and also people are shooting at the rollercoaster. You're excited, horny, and breathtakingly alive like never before ... while at the same time you can literally feel a giant radioactive ball made of pure mortal terror sitting in your guts like a boulder and sending electricity shooting out through every nerve pathway in your body. And you feel that way the entire four hours.

I don't know. Maybe you get used to it after the first time.

Anyway. About an hour after Chelsea left, my phone pinged with a message. It was from Dylan:

"just wanted to let you know your girlfriend arrived safe and sound. don't worry, I'm gonna take good care of her for you. you're welcome."

Attached was a video clip of Chelsea's arrival at his apartment. I hit Play. I watched it all the way through, hypnotized, my heart pounding in my chest as Chelsea listened to every command without question and threw her whole being into pleasing him.

Fuck. He really takes control of her. She's always been ... I mean, we have a beautiful equal partnership, but between the two of us she's clearly the more assertive, the one who tends to get her way. But with Dylan I watched her behave like ... fuck. She just wanted to be his plaything.

The video ended and I returned to the text conversation. I saw the end of Dylan's message again: "... you're welcome."

Slack-jawed, without even really thinking about it, I watched my thumbs type out a reply: "Thank you, Dylan."

I put my phone down and tried to keep myself busy by getting some editing done on our upcoming video, but it was hopeless; I was too distracted, too excited, too tense. I needed to calm down and I figured he'd want to keep Chelsea for at least a couple more hours, so, yeah, I pulled up the video rubbed one out — it didn't take long.

After that it was a little easier to sit still, but just a little. I kept checking my phone like there was some chance I got another text without noticing, wondering when the next video would come (craving it, dreading it), but after that first video all I got was radio silence. Whatever was going on, they were off in their own little world without me ... which was yet another painful idea I kinda loved.

I spent a few hours like that before my phone finally dinged again, a simple text from Chelsea — "On my way" — followed by a winking smiley.

When she got back I was sitting on the couch, playing a video game, and trying to act nonchalant. She skipped over to me and hopped right on my lap, straddling me, and I remembered why we were doing this: there was an aura of giddy euphoria just oozing out of her pores, like she'd overdosed on oxytocin and had a surplus of love & affection she simply had to pour into me. She held me tight and kissed me hard with a big, silly grin permanently etched on her face. Finally she leaned back and looked at me.

"I missed you," she said.

"Did you really?"

"Yes! Of course I did. I mean, I may have gotten a little distracted there for a while, heheh ... but I can't wait for you to be there to watch. Maybe next time?"

"Ma-aaybe, haha. When's 'next time'?"

I saw a mischievous glint in her eye before she fell forward again to hug me and nuzzle my neck. She rubbed her whole body against mine, grinding on my crotch for a second, before whispering right in my ear: "Whenever he fucking wants."

"Oh fuck, Chelz..." Her answer had the desired effect on me; my heart skipped a beat and my dicked swelled beneath her, but I tried to keep my wits for just a little while longer. "But, not too often, right? Once a week, something like that? Like we talked about?"

"Yes, babe. Don't worry, I told him ... but your jealousy is very cute." With that she gave me one more peck on the lips then climbed off me, took my hand, and lifted me off the couch with that same infectious smile. In a gleeful sing-song voice, she teased me further: "Come on, I brought you something..." Oh my god, oh my god...

She led me to our bedroom and told me to strip. While I did she peeled off her own clothes, then lay back on the bed and spread her legs, not once breaking eye contact, not once losing that smile. Jesus, she's really enjoying this. When I was naked she looked down at my painfully erect dick and hummed in contentment, then silently crooked her finger to get me into position between her legs. I literally gulped. Then I took in a deep breath, summoned all my courage, and did what she wanted.

Chelsea watched in delight as I climbed onto the bed. It flashed into my mind for an instant just how fucked up this was, how inconceivable it would've seemed a few short months ago ... or even just a week ago. Naked, kneeling on the foot of my bed between my fiancée's splayed legs to see — and smell, and taste — the aftermath of her tryst with our friend. I could feel her approving gaze on my skin. That radioactive ball of terror in my gut was throbbing bitterly, but the erotic draw of the moment was irresistible. I managed to move into place, then willed myself to open my eyes.

She was a mess. Aside from a landing strip up top Chelsea had shaved herself clean for the date, but the skin around her hole was inflamed. Her lips were red, swollen. Angry. And everything was ... moist. I knew she was still deeply aroused, but I also knew her own juices weren't the only thing I was seeing. The semen that must have been slowly leaking into her panties that whole car ride back was now smeared everywhere, coating her vulva, waiting for someone ... waiting for me ... to lick it clean. Fuck. I didn't know if I could do it. I was paralyzed, just staring slack-jawed at the ruin of my fiancée's pussy. So fucking turned on, and also so fucking scared.

"Do you like it?" Chelsea snapped me back to reality, but I was still too stunned to respond at first; she could see how overwhelmed I was. "Oh, babe, it's ok. You don't have to do it if you're not ready ... but it sure looks like you like it."

She was staring at my dick, leaking from the tip and so hard it stood almost straight up against my stomach. She pulled in her leg and used her foot to tickle the underside of my shaft. As turned on as I was, that was enough to break the logjam in my head — after just a few seconds I pushed her leg out of the way and dove in head-first.

I didn't think, I just did it ... latched onto her pussy with my mouth and devoured her, licking everywhere, trying to make her feel good the best way I know how. Chelsea reacted joyously, immediately.

"Oohhhh—YES, baby! I fucking knew it! Mmmmm ... I read all about this on the internet, it's a little test: cucks love this shit. And you're my good little cuck, oh yes you are, I'm so glad ... Mmmm, fuck ... now we know, now we know..."

Oh my god. I was officially out of my mind. The only thing I knew right then was that Chelsea had switched off my brain. She stroked my hair while her wrecked pussy became my whole world. I knew the taste of her so well, which made it easy to identify the taste of him. I knew the remnants of Dylan's cum were coating my tongue as I pleasured her, and that idea was almost too much.

My hand crept down and grabbed my dick — it was totally involuntary, just something my body needed. Chelsea saw, and she stopped me.

"Oh, honey, heheh, I wouldn't do that ... I mean, you can cum on the bed if you want ... but wouldn't you rather at least try to fuck me?"

Yes. Yes I would. I nodded and groaned and pulled myself up into position between her legs. I guess I could've just pushed into her, bare, right away — it's not like she could object at this point. But it somehow it just felt ... wrong. Instead I glanced wordlessly at the bedside drawer; Chelsea almost chuckled as she reached over to grab a condom for me.

"Ohh, yes," she said cheerfully, "now we really know..."

A second later my cock slipped into her — wrapped in latex, but still it felt amazing. I was hovering over her in a push-up position, thrusting at a moderate pace to keep myself from finishing too quickly. Chelsea was silent at first, just staring up at me while she held my head in her hands or ran her fingers through my hair.

The look behind her eyes helped calm me. There was some playfulness there for sure, some teasing, I guess a little implicit mockery. But it wasn't cruel or contemptuous. It was conspiratorial, inviting — a look that said, "can you believe how naughty we're being together??" Somehow, impossibly, it was loving. I got lost in that silent connection, and it helped me to keep my composure, to stop from climaxing right away ... and after a few minutes I could tell she was actually nearing an orgasm of her own.

I loved being able to make Chelsea cum so hard with my tongue or my fingers, but it had been a while since the last time she'd cum while I was fucking her, and I now I wanted that more than anything. I focused hard, doing everything I could to thrust at the tempo & angle I'd learned she loved most, and soon she was on the brink. Only then did she open her mouth to speak.

"Ohhhhh yes, babe ... you're gonna do it..."

"Oh my god, fuck..."

"Mmmmm ... give me one more, make it special ... I already came so many times today with Dylan..."

"Oh fuck, Chelz ... don't, don't..."

Talking about her time with Dylan would put a quick end to this session — she knew it as well as I did. But as she neared the peak I don't think she could help herself. She was breathing hard, gasping; her hip were humping up against mine; and the filthy shit we'd learned to love came tumbling out of her mouth.

"Oh babe but I love it, our friend fucked the shit out of me so good today — Mmmm, GOD! — and he filled me up again and again. Can you feel it? Feel how wet I am? Do it, fuck me! AHH! YES! Push his seed in, fuck it deeper into me, help it get to where it belongs, I fucking love it I love you I love you FUCK MEEEE-AAAIYEYEIE!"

She came with a squeal & a shudder, and the imagery she put into my head made sure I filled up my condom at the same time.