Corruption of a Geek Goddess Pt. 03

Afterwards, lying there together in each other's arms, it was hard to deny how amazing the day had been. Chelsea was staring into my eyes with unguarded affection as she asked me, simply: "Are we happy?"

"Mm-Hmm..." I nodded with a dreamy smile on my face.

"No regrets?" I thought about this one for a second, and realized I could answer honestly.

"Nuh-Uh."

"Good! You can always tell me if it gets too hard, but I think today went so well. God! I've never loved you more..."

Somehow, I think I felt the same. It was an amazing start to our little adventure.

Chelsea

This three-month lust-triangle thing with Dylan started out great for everyone.

Dylan's having a ball. I can tell he's enjoying the power trip of inserting himself into our relationship like he has. Maybe he was secretly nervous about what would happen when Mark found out, but he never showed it. No, his attitude was more, "I knew you'd be back for more, and I knew your wimp boyfriend wouldn't stand in the way." Ugh, he's such a douchebag — I love it.

I'm certainly happy. The sex with Dylan has been out-of-this-fucking-world, naturally — we'll meet up at his place and go for hours. But even when I'm not with him there's just this undercurrent of erotic exhilaration, all day every day, knowing what we're up to. Everything reminds me of it: seeing Mark, playing with Mark, lying in bed, the texts Dylan sends me throughout the day ... the knowledge that another date with him is just around the corner is kinda always in my mind, and so I'm always at least a little turned on.

(Oh, and one day I saw Cody — Dylan's friend and I guess now my neighbor's secret lover — slinking out of Nora's house one afternoon when her son & husband were gone for the day. Holy shit: that was hot. I mean, it was really fucked up, but also shamefully arousing ... it's like Team Dylan is just colonizing this whole freaking neighborhood. When I asked her about it the next day she swore she was done seeing Cody, she'd already told him it was over, and that what I'd seen yesterday was just "one for the road, like a goodbye fuck." I pretended to believe her and said it was for the best.)

Most importantly, Mark is on board. He reaps the benefits of having a girlfriend who's constantly horny, I promise you. And I can tell he's settling in, feeling a little more comfortable every day. He sees that we're keeping to the rules we set up, and he can tell I'm still in love with him, and happy. The more comfortable Mark gets, the better I feel about everything. And the better we're both feeling, the easier it is to improvise our games in sexy ways.

I'll give you a for instance. It was a couple weeks after my first official "date" with Dylan. We'd had two more hookups since then, spaced out like five days apart; I figured we were about due for another one so I was even more sexually amped-up than usual. On this particular morning I had to head out early to run a few important errands, one of them being that this was the day I'd mail our wedding invitations. I'd been idly texting with Dylan, just shooting the breeze, but when I mentioned the trip to the post office he changed his tune.

"I'm at my place, come meet me now."

"LOL. I can't right now. Well ... ok, maybe I can for a bit ;-) Let me just drop these off on the way."

"no, come here first. no stopping."

"Dylan! I can't. These have to go out today."

"nah, you can mail them after. it's your call, but if you want me to let you in the door today you better have those invitations in your hand."

"OH MY GOD"

"now tell me what I want to hear, peach."

I knew this was potentially dicey, but ... fuck. The knowledge that I could be lying naked in Dylan's bed in less than half an hour, and all I had to do was wave a stack of wedding invitations in his face like a backstage pass, it made my skin flush from head to toe, and I could practically feel the wetness trickling down towards my panties. I couldn't resist. We'd be quick, right? I could put them in the mail after. And Mark would get a kick out of it, wouldn't he? If he heard about it in the right way? So, after just a minute of fighting with myself, I typed out the words Dylan was waiting for:

"Yes, Daddy."

I drove right over, speeding most of the way. Dylan made me hand him the envelopes at the doorway. He kinda snickered when he took them from me, that bastard. (Drool.) He put them on the table next to his bed while we fucked; when we took some video for Mark, he made sure they were in the shot.

Afterwards I made a half-hearted effort to leave, but Dylan wanted me to stay for another round, and I guess I wasn't too hard to convince. It wasn't long before he was lying on his back with me on top, riding him, and he reached over and picked up the large stack of envelopes. Oh fuck, Chelsea. He started leafing through them, paying me no mind while I began to lose my shit. From time to time he'd ask me who someone was, and it was a struggle to form coherent answers — for some reason his casual intrusion into my real life, into our marriage, was such a sick fucking thrill.

He must have noticed the invitations were arranged alphabetically, because when he got to a certain point in the stack he stopped, looked right at me, and asked the question I'd been afraid of.

"Princess, where's my invitation?"

Fuck. Mark & I had discussed it, but only briefly. We both agreed it would be a bad idea to have him there. It would be too awkward. Plus, that day was supposed to be all about us. With Dylan around, it might be too easy for us to get distracted and make the day about ... something else. I tried to explain this.

"Ooooh, Dylan, I'm — oh fuck — I'm sorry ... it would just be too w-weird..."

"Don't be silly. I'm a friend, right?"

"Mmm, yes..."

"A good friend?"

"Ohhh, the best..."

"And don't you want me there for your special day? Wouldn't that make it even more special?"

"Yessss, but ... but Mark, he—"

"Don't worry about Mark, we'll talk to him. He'll love it, trust me — shit, by the time we're done I'll probably be his Best Man."

"Ohh, FUCK!"

"So we're agreed? You'll talk to him?"

"Yes!"

"Promise?"

"I promise, just fuck me!"

Dylan got what he wanted, and so did I: he tossed the stack of envelopes on the floor, flipped me over onto my back, and pounded the ever-loving shit out of me while wicked, impossible images danced in my head ... things a bride should definitely not do on her wedding day ... things I can't even bring myself to admit in writing.

He didn't let me go that day until early evening — until after the post office was closed. When I told me kinky fiancé about that, he was annoyed for about two seconds before he got a perverted charge out of the whole thing that changed his priorities. I got the invitations in the mail the next day. No harm done, right? I'm still not sure how I'm gonna talk to him about having Dylan at the wedding, but I guess I'll have to figure something out. I mean ... I did promise.

Dylan

I'll tell you a secret: I did not have some master plan for handling Mark & Chelsea. I was just winging it with this shit, feeling out how far Mark could be pushed, how much Chelsea was willing to push him. How submissive she wanted to be for me, and how dominant over him. After a few weeks of our little arrangement, the answer to all of those questions seemed to "very." So I kept at it.

I swear to god, I don't actually want to hurt Mark. (Not REALLY, I mean. Not gonna lie, giving him a hard time about this cuckold business is pretty hot — but aside from that I wish him well. No shit, I still consider him a friend. And anyway he thinks it's hot, too, right?) And I'm not trying to break them up or stop the wedding or anything. Chelsea would never forgive me if I fucked that up, and I want her happy & horny, not mopey & depressed.

No, I just want to have as much of her as I can before the wedding ... and, yeah, I also want to get the both of them to a place where I'll still get to fuck Mrs. Mark after the wedding.

So when Chelsea told me that Mark was ready to watch a fuck-session in person, I was a little hesitant. This would be tricky. Like, the whole point of that would be to tease Mark and make him jealous, kind of. But if that goes too far, or if he just freaks out and can't handle it for some other reason, he might try to pull the plug on the whole thing and get Chelsea to stop seeing me — and, hell, he might even succeed. So, I'd have to thread the needle.

We decided to do it at my place since that's where Chelsea & I had been meeting up so far. (Also, I already knew from talking to Chelsea that Mark felt weird about me fucking her at their place — king of the castle, sanctity of the marital bed, that kinda thing — so I'm sure that had a lot to do with it.)

Since what I mostly wanted from this night (aside from the obvious) was for Mark to leave here feeling nice & comfortable with our arrangement, I made sure to be a good host when they arrived. I was friendly, chatting him up about whatever, not flirting with Chelsea or grabbing at her. We had a few drinks to loosen up, watched a little basketball, and talked about video editing and stuff for our YouTube channels. When Chelsea hit the restroom for a minute there was this little awkward silence between the two of us, and I took the opportunity to reassure him, one-on-one.

"So," he mumbled, "um, ha..."

"I know, I know: it's a lot, right?"

"Yes, exactly! It's like, this whole thing's been incredible, really fucking wild, and I'm having a lot of fun, but ... wow, it's a lot to take in, you know? A total mindfuck."

"Totally get it. Haha, it's REALLY weird for me too, you don't even know." That may have been overstating it a little. "You know what? We should've had a man-to-man chat a while ago, just us. That's my bad. But listen, I know you know this, but I wanted to say it anyway: this is all just a game, right? Me & Chelsea, the stuff we say, like, about you ... it's all bullshit, just kinky shit to say in the bedroom. You know that, right?"

"Oh, yeah yeah yeah, for sure. I know. But thank you."

"Good. 'Cause you're a friend, and she totally loves you, so you have nothing to worry about when we talk about ... well, you know. It just really gets her going is all. And you too, obviously, and that's so cool. Haha, Mark, you lucky motherfucker — your girl's such a freak!"

"Um, yeah, ha. I am lucky, I know."

"Damn right. Friends?"

"Friends."

I leaned over for a fist bump just as Chelsea was coming back — perfect timing. She walked by my spot on the couch to go sit back down next to Mark, but I grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward me. She stumbled a little and fell on top of me.

"Aah!"

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Dylan, stop hahaha!"

"Sit with me a minute."

"Ohhhh, alright, twist my arm, heheh..."

We kept up the pretense of normal hang-out session at first, but that wouldn't last long with Chelsea sitting on my lap like that. She was feeling it, subtly grinding her ass into me while the three of us talked, glancing back over her shoulder at me, giggling, biting her lip. Actually she'd been getting impatient for a while, I could tell — I could've just dragged her off to bedroom the second they walked in and she'd have been a happy girl — but I wanted to keep Mark from flipping out.

Anyway, after a few minutes the conversation petered out on its own; Chelsea gyrated & held my arm & hummed in arousal while I ran my hands all over her body and started kissing her neck; Mark watched and shifted in his seat with this funny-looking stunned expression on his face.

I whispered into her ear: "Look at your boyfriend." She did. "Does that look like a man you want fucking you?"

"Stop!" she said, out loud, giggling. I kept whispering.

"No, you have to choose. You can borrow my bed, let your boyfriend try to stick it in; I'll wait out here. Or, you can ask me to fuck the shit out of you while he rubs his little dick."

"Heheh, Dylan! He's not that little! Babe, you're really not..."

"Come on. Which one of us do you want?"

"Stop, you already know the answer..."

"Don't tell me. Tell him."

"Mmmmm, ok ... Mark, honey ... I want Dylan to fuck the shit out of me..."

"Instead of..."

"... instead of you."

Mark groaned audibly and pulled his hand away from his crotch — fuck, that was easy.

"Say 'please,'" I told her, out loud this time.

"Mmmm ... would you please fuck me now, Daddy?"

"Good girl. Lead the way."

And she did. Chelsea stood up and pulled me by the hand towards my bedroom and away from Mark, still just sitting there with his jaw on the floor. I saw her turn her head around and look at me for a second, before she shifted her gaze back to him and winked. I guess she was still thinking about him, at least a little. For now.

When we got there she walked in, sat on the edge of my bed facing me, and right away started working my pants down; I sprang free and I could see her eyes come alive. I fucking love seeing that look on her face. She grabbed me by the base and began kissing my cock all over from the head to my balls, rubbing it on her face, moaning in delight — it had only been four days but she looked like she'd been in withdrawal, and I loved seeing that, too.

I heard Mark step into the room behind me. I'd put a chair in the corner especially for him, and I was about to direct him to it, but just then I saw Chelsea look over at him and kinda furrow her brow — I got the impression she was worried about the look on his face. Sure enough, she gave the tip of my cock one last kiss and then stood up, walked over to Mark, and gave him a big hug.

"Trust me, ok? It's gonna be great," she told him before stepping back and looking right at him. "Oh god do I ever love you, babe! It's gonna be amazing, you'll see ... and I'm so happy you're here for this."

"Me too," he said, sounding mostly like he meant it.

"You ready?" she asked; Mark nodded. "Great! Why don't you help me get undressed?"

"Ha, sure..."

Damn, Chelsea's the best. In about 15 seconds not only did she calm down the guy who was about to watch his fiancée get the life fucked out of her, but she had him helping it happen and fucking liking it. I stood there smiling while Mark unwrapped the love of his life for me. When he was all done she grabbed the front of his shirt and started walking backward towards the bed, pulling him along.

"Dylan, honey? Is it ok if Mark gets me ready? He'll be quick..."

"Haha, oh yeah, sure ... I think that's a great idea," I said. "Get her ready for me."

Chelsea reached the bed and lay back with her ass on the edge, pulling Mark down with her. It looked like he was going in for a kiss, but before he could get there she already had her hand on the top of his head, pushing him down between her legs. (Like I said: Chelsea's the best.) He didn't hesitate — just got right to work, his face buried in her crotch, loudly licking and slurping.

"Mmmmm, yes babe ... do it, warm me up for your friend ... show Dylan what you're good at..."

I gotta admit, he really did seem to be good at that: Chelsea responded strongly, and right away, squirming & moaning, the whole time keeping a fistful of his hair clenched in her hand. She looked over at me and broke into a sexy little giggle and kind of shrugged her shoulders; I smiled and rolled my eyes. While Mark did his part I stripped off my clothes — Chelsea watched hungrily, biting her lip and pulling harder on her boyfriend's hair.

Mark got her to the brink of orgasm really quick, but she didn't let him finish. Instead she lifted him off of her and pointed his face up at hers.

"Mmmm. Thank you baby, you did such a nice job for me ... but now it's time for you to go sit in the cuck chair." Mark followed her gaze to the corner, saw the chair (and the tissues, and the lotion) for the first time, and muttered 'fuck' under his breath. After a second or two of hesitation he nodded, kissed the inside of Chelsea's thigh, and did as he was told.

Watching him slink off like that, just surrendering his future wife to a better man, to me — fuck, that was a bigger thrill than I expected. Up till now I was just playing around, and even all that cuckold shit was mostly just a way to keep Chelsea coming back for more ... but now I really wanted to conquer this bitch right in front of him.

Before he'd even made it to the chair Chelsea's attention shifted to me, and she looked excited. She slid to the center of the mattress as I climbed aboard, and as soon as I was close enough she reached out and pulled me in for a powerful kiss. She was moaning, writhing, feeling me all over — god damn, she was really into this.

"Daddy," she whispered into my ear. "Daddy, I need it."

"What do you need?" I whispered back.

"I need--"

"Out loud." She only hesitated for a moment before drawing a deep breath and speaking in a clear, confident voice.

"I need you to fuck me. It's been four whole days, it's all I can think about..."

"Okay, Princess. Let's show him why you keep coming back."

Just then I had a wicked thought. Instead of climbing on top of Chelsea straight away, I reached for the bedside table, opened the drawer, and pulled out a string of five condoms. Chelsea looked confused and started to shake her head, but before she could say anything I turned towards Mark and flung them at him; the strand hit him square in the chest and fell in his lap.

"Here you go, buddy! I don't need those," I said, acting like I was just being nice; Chelsea giggled beside me.

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, ha, thanks."

"Just do me a favor: if you're gonna jerk off, you gotta wear one of those. I don't want you making a mess. Deal?" He hesitated, and even in his dimly-lit corner I could tell he was blushing.

"Uhhh ... wait, you want me to ... I mean, uh—" I cut him off by turning to his loving girlfriend.

"Chelsea," I just said, and nodded in Mark's direction. She held my stare for a few seconds; she knew what I wanted. Without even looking away from me, she finally called out:

"Babe? Just do what he says, ok? For me."

As far as I was concerned that ended it. I moved right into position, grabbed Chelsea's legs, and shoved them wide open.

"Oooohhh..." she hummed. I started sliding the underside of my shaft up & down her pussy lips — she was fucking drenched — and took a peek at Mark. His mouth was hanging open, staring at Chelsea; he was rubbing the outside of his crotch with one hand while the other had a death grip on those condoms. I guess I kinda smirked at him, but he didn't see it. I looked back to Chelsea.

"Is it a safe time?"

"Yeah ... mostly..."

"Should I pull out just in case?"

"No!" That made me chuckle.

"Okay, Peach. You're gonna get fucked now..."

Chelsea looked down to watch as my very hard, very bare cock pushed into her dripping wet pussy. Fuck, she feels so good ... I have got to keep this going with her. She looked almost hypnotized, and she was kinda nodding her head up & down without even realizing it. I'm pretty sure she wants this to keep going, too.

I took my time sliding into her. When I bottomed out, she closed her eyes and let out this long, happy sigh that let me know she'd been thinking about this for days.

"Miss me?" I asked.

"Ohhh, you have no idea..."

I started off with a slow in & out but quickly built up a head of steam and began hitting it hard, snapping my hips into her on every stroke, drawing a tiny little gasp from Chelsea every time. I'd grab her tits, tweak her nipples, rub her clit — all the things I knew she liked. I mean, I always wanted her to feel good, but tonight I wanted her to lose her damn mind. I decided I'd put on a show. If Mark wanted to watch, let him fucking watch that.