Corruption of a Geek Goddess Pt. 04

And I'm meeting some of Dylan's friends. It ain't exactly the Algonquin Round Table over there, but they're actually really fun in kinda the same way he is, and they're all super nice to me. I can tell Dylan is sort of showing me off to them, and I enjoy that feeling so goddamned much.

It's a very different crowd from the kids I ran with in college. They're wilder, cruder, more boisterous — in other words they're frat boys (in some cases literally), plus a few frat girls. You know what's nuts? When I hang out with Dylan's friends, what gives me anxiety isn't the kinky cuckold games or that everyone can tell I'm Dylan's fucktoy as I sit there with a ring on my finger. (I don't think he's even told them about our arrangement; as far as his friends know I'm just a cheating slut who needs to come by and get fucked every time her fiancé turns his back, and none of them seem the least bit bothered by that idea.)

No, the thing that makes me self-conscious is the age gap, feeling out of place, like I'm an old lady hanging out at a college dorm and trying to blend in. They're just so young. Even the ones who are out of college seem like they're on their way to a kegger at Sigma Nu. Dylan, somehow, is the most mature of the whole bunch.

So that made me anxious, at first anyway. The social lubricants help. They throw down the drinks, so I do too when they're around. And, maybe, once or twice (or so), Dylan's buddy has come by with a little coke to share. That's really not my scene — in fact I don't even like coke. But, when in Rome...

***

You know what? I have to back up a little.

The first time I met some of Dylan's friends was actually my 28th birthday. Mark did an amazing job with it — he's always brilliant with that stuff. He set up an online gaming session with some friends of ours and even my sister, Talia (which was hilarious because she's very much not a gamer), and we had a blast. There was a perfect dinner at this restaurant downtown that was just the right amount of fancy (enough to feel special but not so much that the place feels judgy, and the food was bonkers good).

And then while we're sitting there at the table he springs this gorgeous tennis bracelet on me, and I was speechless for a second. White gold with a long string of shimmering diamonds. Just stunning. It was instantly the nicest & most expensive piece of jewelry I've ever owned, maybe even including my engagement ring — I don't even want to know, but at the low end he must have dropped a few thousand dollars on it.

"Oh my god. Mark, honey: oh my god."

"I hope you like it," he said.

"Are you kidding? I love it! But, I don't want to sound... it's just, are you sure we can really afford this?"

"We can. I mean, it's not nothing, and we can return it and save the money if you want. I won't be offended, I swear. But Aunt Ginny left me a little bit in her will, and then I saw this, and there just was nothing I'd rather spend it on. I felt like... you're about to be the lady of the house, my wife. You're the most precious thing in my life, Chelz. You deserve to have a few precious things — if you don't, then this world is seriously screwed up... I don't know, it sounds cheesy when I say it out loud."

It didn't sound cheesy: it was sweet & romantic & oddly profound. It was the kind of gift that made me feel like an actual grown-up; like a real woman and not just some cutesy girl pretending to be one. I loved it and I love him, and I made sure he knew it.

We got home around 8:00 at night and were just canoodling on the couch, feeling happy & in love, enjoying our perfect evening. Then it happened so fast I can't believe it.

I was telling him how much I adore him, and how happy I was, and how grateful I was because he gave me a day that felt like I got to have all the good things in my life at once. And then I tacked on a throwaway joke about how, well, it was ALMOST all the good things, tee-hee-hee.

"What?? Almost?!" he said, with mock indignation. "Nonsense! I dare to name one good thing I didn't get you!"

"Oh, heheh, you knoooow..."

"Umm..." It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. "Oh! You mean, like... a date...?"

"I'm kidding! Ha, you should see your face right now. Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I really didn't mean it. Seriously, my bad. This is such a great day..." I snuggled up with him, resting my head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around me.

"It's ok." He held me for five or ten seconds, then picked up that line of thought. "But you're saying that in order to be a truly PERFECT day..."

"Babe! No, that's not—"

"It's fine, it's fine — I just want to know. You'd like to pay a visit to your boy-toy?"

"No! Not like that. I just meant, like... in theory, a nice thing would be to bounce over there and spend the night. I wasn't actually suggesting it. It was just a joke. Duh."

Neither of us said anything for almost a minute this time; I leaned back against his chest and enjoyed his warmth, slightly embarrassed by my blunder but happy that it was behind us... until it wasn't.

"So send him a text," Mark said.

"Mark!"

"Hey, you're the birthday girl, and we're reeeally close to that perfect day. I want you to have it. Seriously, I don't mind."

We went back & forth a little more, but Mark insisted he was fine and it would be hot for him too (and the lump I could see in his pants backed him up). I guess, maybe, I... wasn't so hard to convince. A minute later he watched me send a booty-call text to my lover. Dylan said he was hosting a little get-together with friends but that I should come over anyway. And also that he had a surprise for me.

I said ok, packed an overnight bag, gave Mark a goodnight kiss & a playful squeeze of his crotch (still hard), then skipped out the front door — it had been all of eight minutes since I made my dumb little joke.

By 9:00 Dylan was greeting me with a long kiss. When I came up for air and looked around the living room, I saw six pairs of eyes watching me, most of them unfamiliar. There was Caleb, and Christian. Alejandro was next to his girlfriend, Molly. I spotted a familiar face: Cody, Dylan's cocky young friend who'd so easily seduced my married next-door neighbor that fateful night after the convention.

And sitting right there next to Cody, wearing yoga pants and a Cheshire Cat grin, was that very same wife & mother, my adulterous neighbor Nora. So, I guess that's still going on. Good news, Chelsea! You're not the biggest whore at the party!

We made our introductions and I tried to calm my nerves with booze. I grabbed Nora to talk alone at the first opportunity.

"So," I said, "I guess you're still seeing him, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She only sounded a little embarrassed. "I'm gonna end it. Really, I am. It's just always so hard to turn down 'one more time,' you know?" Needless to say, I did know. "But I think Harry's getting suspicious, so... yeah."

"Where does he think you are now?"

"I told him I was crashing at my sister's. They don't get along, so he's not gonna check. Holy crap, Chelsea: you're so lucky. Mark really knows all about you & Dylan?"

"Oh yeah, he loves it."

"And you tell him everything?"

"Of course, that's the whole point!" She cocked one eyebrow, silently calling bullshit. "Ok, ok... almost everything." We broke into a little giggle fit, then went back to rejoin the group. And I wound up having a really good time for a couple hours.

Then I got impatient. Yes, Dylan, your friends are very nice and all, but I came here so you could blow my goddamn pussy apart! It was getting late, and I was getting tired. A couple people left and I tried making eyes at Dylan to give him a hint, but he was still playing the good host. I announced I was sleepy, and Dylan said I should do a little a little of the coke Christian had brought over to stay awake. No, I really shouldn't, I'm not into that, and Mark might get kinda... well, ok. Just a little, to wake myself up.

That perked me right up, but it sure didn't do anything to make me less horny. I was getting desperate, and with booze & coke on board my inhibitions were going bye-bye. I excused myself for a minute and changed into my bedtime attire: booty shorts, a tight little t-shirt, and nothing else — in fact it was pretty much just underwear. This oughta get his attention. Tipsy-manic-horny Chelsea was sure it was a good plan.

So I came back and sat next to Dylan. Leaning up against his side, locking arms, holding hands, resting my head on his shoulder, humming, nuzzling, just being an all-around sex kitten... but somehow Dylan didn't grab my hair and drag me off to his bed like a caveman. The party kept going like before, except now everyone was looking at me. The boys were openly ogling, and Nora was practically giggling to herself watching me wordlessly beg for sex in front of everyone. Dylan just started idly rubbing my leg, inching up & up & up, eventually working the bottom of my shorts even higher up my thigh than they already were; his fingers were about an inch away from my crotch.

I realized what he was really doing. He knew he had me locked in; he could take as much time as he wanted. He also knew everyone was staring at me, and he liked it. He was putting me on display, a trophy for him to brag about. Behold: the attractive & dignified full-grown woman, with a career and a house and a fiancé, who's basically his willing sex doll.

Oh, how embarrassing! How shameful! But if you think that idea didn't also make me leak arousal into the crotch of my shorts... then you haven't been paying close attention to this story. Fuck. I tried to keep up with the conversation, without much luck. It got worse.

Dylan handed me his glass: "Fix me another drink, Princess." I bit my tongue to keep from blurting out a Yes, Daddy and went off to get it for him, certain that everyone else was watching the sway of my ass.

I got to the kitchen and started on Dylan's drink, and Cody came in right after; he'd followed me in. He walked up behind me, pretended to reach for something on the counter, and pressed his whole body up against mine, grinding into my butt a little.

"Oooops! Excuse me, gorgeous..."

"... it's ok." That's the most I could manage — he didn't even try to pretend he wasn't doing what he was doing. Then he backed up a step and put his hand right on my ass, rubbing it, kneading a little.

"Mmm, these shorts are really nice... what's this material I'm feeling?"

"Oh fuck..." My hands grabbed onto the counter and my eyes bugged out; it's like I was paralyzed. This fucking meathead was running his hands all over my ass, just out of view of the woman he's here with (and the guy I'm here with), secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't do a damn thing about it.

And why shouldn't he, Chelsea? Wasn't a different cocky bastard just feeling you up in front of his friends? Didn't you strip down and throw yourself at him for all to see like a wanton slut? Isn't that what you are now? Aren't you here to get groped & fucked & used while your adoring fiancé jerks off at home? Go ahead, make him stop. Do it. You can't, can you? You sick fuck, you love this. You love it, you love it, you love it...

"You know," Cody whispered, breaking me from my trance, "Dylan's not the only who can pry that pussy open for you. Maybe next time I stop by to see Nora you should come over and join us, yeah? Why don't we see how much you like that idea..."

His hand slid around me and tried to slide down the front of my shorts, and that's when it became too much: I pushed him off, grabbed Dylan's drink, and fled to the living room without looking back. Some part of me knew that whole thing was fucked up, that Cody was an asshole. Some part of me was offended, even a little scared.

But I was barely even aware of it in that moment. All I could focus on was the massive, aching need shooting out from my throbbing clit in all directions and warping my mind, this roaring inferno that was burning away parts of the girl I thought I was. And I so badly needed a man to put out that fire. My man.

When I got back to Dylan I just sat down on his lap; I'm sure everyone in the room could tell I was in bad way. I didn't dare look down at the dark wet spot that was probably spreading across the crotch of my shorts, but I didn't try to cover up, either. Fuck it. In no time I was grinding my ass on his lap, moaning audibly, and twisting my head around to kiss his neck. This, at long last, brought the room's conversation to a halt.

"Please, I can't wait any longer... I need it..." I meant to whisper but I know everyone heard me anyway. Dylan's hand snaked up under my shirt and took hold of my breast; I tried to stifle a moan, and failed. My eyes shut tight; I knew they were all watching me disintegrate in real time, getting a free show, but I couldn't look.

"What do you need, Peach?" He was so cool, so confident. How?? "Don't be shy now. You can't have it if you don't say it."

"Oh g-god — I want you to... I want you to fuck me, I need it... n-now..."

"Hmm. First: who owns your pussy? Come on, Princess, let everyone know..."

"It's yours... mmm, fuck... Dylan owns it..."

"Not the man you're about to marry?"

"No! No... it's Daddy's pussy... please..."

"Good girl." He rewarded me with a kiss, then addressed the onlookers with a knowing smile: "Party's over, folks."

Everyone said their goodnights and grabbed their stuff, not even trying to hide how amusing it was to watch the desperate slut that Dylan had gotten hooked. Nora stopped by to give me a hug and a sly "Have fun!" She made her way to the door on Cody's arm, and he looked back to sneak me a shit-eating grin and a wink — I kept my face blank while my traitorous pussy responded by heating up even more. No bueno, Chelsea. Not good.

Finally, finally, finally... they were gone. Dylan stood behind me and the second the door closed he had his left arm wrapped around my chest, pulling me in tight, and his right hand stuffed down my shorts, cupping my poor needy kitty and rubbing it so, so hard, so powerfully. Even without words the message was crystal clear.

"So," he said in a low voice, "this is mine?"

"Ahh! Yes, Daddy, it's yours..."

"And that's what you really want?"

"Yes... please, Daddy: I need you to own it..." He pulled his hand out of my shorts and held it in front of my face; it was covered in my slick shiny juices, damn near dripping.

"And look at that. Look at how much you like letting people know it's mine. You were glad they saw you tonight, huh? Well, we'll just to have think of other people we can tell..."

"Ohhhh fuck, but Daddy I can't—"

"Lick."

He cut me off mid-whimper, just gave me a peremptory order, and I followed it. My head dove forward and my mouth opened wide, slurping my wetness from his hand like I was dying of thirst. I didn't have to put on a show, didn't have to pretend to like it. Mmmm's and Aaahh's just spilled from my lips. I licked him clean then lovingly sucked on his finger like it was something else. I was gone.

"Come on," he finally said. He took hold of my shirt's collar and walked me back to his bed like a mare to the breeding stable.

A minute later we were naked; he was sprawled on his back, looking like a king, and I was kneeling between his legs sucking on the thing I'd been after all along, worshiping it. Of course I wanted to climb on and get him inside of me, but the impatience was gone: Dylan would let me know when it was time. For now he wanted to enjoy the moment and talk a little more.

"So, Princess. Did you have a nice birthday?"

"Mmm-hmm," I said between licks, "the best."

"Did you get what you wanted?"

"I'm about to..."

"Did you have sex with Mark today?" I froze a moment. No, I realized: I had not had sex with Mark, in spite of how wonderful he'd been, how happy we were — I just assumed we'd get to it tonight. Oops. Finally I looked Dylan in the eye and shook my head; he snorted haughtily. "Well, no great loss. And he knows you're spending all night with me, on your birthday?"

"Yes, Daddy." Then right back to work; I dove down to kiss his balls, earnestly.

"Ha! He really agreed to that?"

"Yeah... it was kinda his idea..."

"Ugh," he muttered and sort of rolled his eyes. "Such an idiot. It's like he's not even trying anymore."

"Nnnnn..." I whined. "Daddy, don't, he treated me so good today..."

"I'm just kidding, Peach. But I treat you even better, don't I?"

"Ohhhh yesss, sirrr..."

"That's right, you know it. Oh wait..." He reached over and picked up his phone. "Should we record something for Mark? Show him how stupid it was to let you come here tonight?"

"Mmmm..." I bit my lip and thought for a second, but before I knew it the words were coming out all on their own: "Not tonight. It's my birthday: it should be just us..."

"Haha. Oh you bad, bad girl. He's gonna go crazy not knowing, all night long..."

"Mmm-hmm," I said as a naughty smile crept across my lips. "Stark raving mad. And tomorrow, I'll make him admit he loved it."

*

Thirty minutes later...

"Aaah, FUCK! It's so fucking good, Daddy! HOW IS IT S-SO GOOD????" I'm bent over the edge of Dylan's bed face-down on the mattress with my ass hanging up in the air, a perfect target for the stud blasting into me. His hand comes down hard on my ass filling the air with a delicious *whack* and then he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head up.

"You're keeping my neighbors awake, Peach — Mmmm, fuck! You know they can all hear you, right?"

"GOOD! I don't care! They already know you own a noisy slut!"

"Good point." Dylan liked the sound of that. My head fell back on the sheets as he let go and used his big, strong hands to lock my hips in place, then he leaned forward and used his leverage to slam into my backside mercilessly. I knew the signs by now; he was opening me up, plowing my field deep and getting me ready to receive his gift.

"Ohhhh yes, Daddy..."

"Shit! I'm gonna cum in you, Princess!"

"YES! Give me my present! It's the BEST fucking present! It's why I came over! What I wanted more than a-anythiiiing! FILL UP YOUR PUSSY, DADDY!!!!"

And he fucking did. Daddy let out this conqueror's roar that snapped my very soul into a state of blissful submission... so good, so right... fuck. He held himself so very deep in me as that fleshy shotgun of his swelled, stiffened, and flooded my upturned womb from point-black range, his seed bathing the deepest parts of me. Hot, wet, bountiful — and no doubt just as potent as the rest of him. Oh my GOD do I love that feeling, more and more every time. My hips took over from my brain and began pumping lewdly up & down, straining to absorb every drop of him, and someone who sounds like me launched into the gibbering prayer of a broken slut: "Oh god, oh please, p-please Daddy, do it! Take me, fill me up, fucking cum in me, I don't care, I don't care, always, I need it, I n-need it Dadd-yyyy... give me your cuuuum..."

I know that part of my reaction — maybe most of it — is because it's Dylan who's taking me raw. But one day I will let Mark try again. And when that day comes I really, really hope I like that even half as much as I like this.

*

Twenty minutes later we were lying together in bed, recharging our batteries for the inevitable Round 2. It was that cuddly, giggly post-coital euphoria and I was feeling deliriously happy running my fingers all along my man's sculpted sweaty body while we chatted & joked. Suddenly I remembered something.