Denial dies at Valentine's

I'd left Roger's place full of righteous fury, but by the time I made it back to my flat share it had mostly burned out. I couldn't even bring myself to dramatically slam the door. I just felt stupid. How dare he cheat on me, and on Valentine's Day of all days?

I knew rugby, and the team, was his life. He'd been all "So sorry babe, but that's when the game has been scheduled. We'll do our stuff another night, yeah? I love you every day, babe, and it's all so commercial now. We can have a night twice as good for half the price any other day."

He was right, of course. And he was on the squad for the game and scored a couple of tries. But I don't think he expected me to show up afterwards to surprise him. Not by the way he was ploughing into that slut in the shower to celebrate his victory.

Nine months. Nearly a year of my life pissed away on that miserable sack of shit. I'd shaved and plucked and preened, and fiddled with my hair, and painted my damn nails, all for nothing. And fuck, the straps on this lingerie were cutting into me something wicked. Lingerie I couldn't really afford, either. Fuck's sake.

"Is that you, Soph?" my flatmate called out.

"No, it's the fucking Spanish Inquisition," I yelled back. Then instantly regretted it when Pete went off into a monologue about surprise; fear and surprise...

Normally he'd've gone on for ages - do the whole sketch - but when he saw my face, he cut off abruptly.

"No... Oh Sophie, I'm so sorry. That bastard."

I'd stayed strong the whole way home. But faced with the pity and empathy of my best friend, I fell into the safety of his arms and cried my bloody heart out.

///

Pete and I had met early in our first year at university. He was kind, and funny, and smart. Everything I'd want in a guy, to be honest - but he wasn't interested. He'd broken up with his girlfriend just before term started, and he wasn't interested in getting into another relationship.

Well, I say girlfriend. I'd got the impression, reading between the lines, that Kathy had been leading him on. Using him as a sort-of private tutor, paying him in sex, and then tossing him aside once she'd got her grades and placement offers. At universities on the other side of the country.

The two of us hit it off almost straight away. Same sense of humour. Same interests, or near enough. But there was no question of us getting romantically involved. He was hurting, and I... I was in my wild phase, looking for casual fun rather than something long term. By the time I met Roger, Pete and I had settled into a strong friendship which neither of us was going to jeopardise with a clumsy romantic move.

///

The tears for Roger came and went. Pete and I had a long talk about how shitty men are, while working our way through a bottle of particularly fine red.

"He didn't deserve you anyway. Muscle for brains."

"He was actually quite sweet once you got him away from his rugger buggers..."

Pete wasn't having any of that. "Oh no you don't. No defending him. Remember what he did to you." He sipped at the wine. "I mean, what an arsehole! You're the best any man could get, what the fuck was he thinking?"

"Exactly," I thought. Solidarity, sister. Um, brother. Whatever. The wine was starting to soften things. Except for the underwire in this damn torture device that called itself a bra. I needed to get into my fluffy PJs, stat, and then we could eat popcorn and watch a cheesy movie together while snuggling up on the sofa.

I stood, wobbled a little, and absently tugged at the hem of the short dress to re-cover my modesty. Not that Pete cared, he was like my brother. I looked up at his face and smiled.

His eyes flicked up to mine, and there was the tiniest flash of guilt over his face, which then immediately went totally blank.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied, too quickly.

I stood there in front of him, and the silence lasted a bit too long. Suddenly I felt a little awkward, hanging in the lounge with my best friend while wearing my fuck-me-hard Valentine's outfit. I could see the strain on his face, trying to stop his eyes flicking over my body. Eyes that had a fire burning in the pupils. A fire that called to something low inside me.

"You're right," I said. "Roger's a fucking idiot, cos I'm hot as hell." I waited for a reaction, but Pete was like a statue. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Pete replied.

"You think I'm hot?"

That he couldn't answer. Not with his face, anyway. There was definite movement between his legs. He was firming up. Oh, my god. This was Pete. I'd walked round the flat half naked, and he'd never shown an interest. And I wasn't interested in him.

Liar, my pussy screamed at me, as she started to moisten. You just never thought you'd get the opportunity. Well, tonight's the night, sister. And it turned out that lust, that sexiness I'd felt as I'd left the flat bound for Roger's place, hadn't died. It was still there, burning inside me, mixing with the wine, egging me on. And it unlocked a deeper desire; one I didn't realise I'd been suppressing, but one that now exploded into my consciousness and demanded satisfaction.

"Pete, be honest. We're always honest with each other, right?" He looked uncomfortable, and I realised I was getting off on it. Was I a bad person? I was a horny person, that's for sure. "Come on, do you think I'm sexy, or not?"

I stood, hips cocked, boobs out, and dared him to deny it.

"Well yeah, you're attractive enough, I suppose," he said, and coughed his embarrassment.

"Do you like the dress?" I sashayed round our small lounge, felt his eyes roam across me, taking it in.

"Is that what that is? I thought it was negligée." Always one to try for a joke to defuse the situation. I smiled, the naughty little girl smile of a temptress.

I watched him squirm. Something about his discomfort was really turning me on. I was properly wet now and was going to need release.

"You should see what's underneath it," I teased. His face was still blank, but those eyes... He was burning off the dress, scorching my skin. He licked his lip, betraying his desire, if the tent in his trousers hadn't already made his feelings perfectly clear.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled. His cock clearly disagreed. I'd not noticed before how large he was. He must be in agony, trapped and bent in half like that in his trousers. I'd have to relieve that, soon enough.

"Well, I didn't tie myself up in this shit for nothing. Somebody may as well see it." And I reached behind my neck, pulled down the zip, and let the little dress flutter to the floor.

He couldn't help but react then. "Fuck..." he breathed. I smiled; the girls never let me down. The red-and-black lace number presented them perfectly; the matching thong and suspender belt framed my toned stomach, barely covering a pussy that was aching to be filled.

"Do you want me?" I asked. His eyes screamed his answer. "Because I want you. I need you, inside me. I didn't realise how much." I knelt, crawled towards him. "You're an amazing, gentle man. But I don't want you to be gentle tonight." I was closing in on his groin. "I need you to take me, claim me. Destroy all memories of those who have gone before. I'm yours, to do with as you please."

"Jesus..."

I pulled at his belt. His eyes were lost in my cleavage. I focused on that rock hard cock, in freeing it from its prison.

"Scared? Tell me to stop, and I'll stop."

He laughed, then. "No fucking way," he said, grabbing a tit as I slid his cock into my mouth. I watched as his eyes rolled back, and I knew then that he was mine, forever.

His breath caught as I teased my tongue underneath his tip, drawing precum into my throat. "Fuck, Soph, I can't take this, it's been so long since I..."

I didn't care. I wanted to bring him; hard and fast and strong. Then, with that first flush of pleasure sated, we could take the rest of the night slow and easy. And sure, soon enough, I drew him over the edge - swallowing his offering as he confessed "Shit, I love you, Sophie!"

///

We lay on the sofa, Pete softly stroking his fingers over my lace-covered curves; the pressure just on the verge of tickling, driving me wild.

The underwire was really cutting into me now. God bless my amazing boobs, but by heavens did they need some solid support. "I've got to get out of this thing," I moaned. "Give me a hand."

Pete reached behind my back and pinched the clasp. The elastic sprang free, and the pressure on my ribs eased up. I could breathe again! I smiled, watching his eyes as the fabric peeled away from my soft skin, revealing the girls in all their glory. My hands, softly cupping his dick, felt it start to harden again.

As always, the tight bra had traced red lines across my skin, cutting into my ribs at the side. Pete looked almost upset. He leant forward and started to kiss his way around them, along the side of my boob under my arms. Soft, gentle kisses, to make it all better. He took the weight of my flesh in his hands, kissed across the globe towards a nipple that was desperate for his touch. He skirted past it, teasing me, tasting the sweat along my breastbone.

"How long have you, you know?" I asked.

"Since I was last with a woman?" he asked, dancing his teeth across my tender areolae.

"Nah, I don't give a shit about that," I said. "And you're doing fine, by the way, in case you were worried. No," I paused, "how long have you been in love with me?"

He sighed, his breath tickling my rock-hard nipple, which he flicked with his tongue. "Since the very first day I met you," he admitted, taking me into his mouth and suckling at me.

My god, that was... nearly two years ago! "Why haven't you said anything?"

"I couldn't admit it to myself, at first." He worked me over as he spoke, his hands caressing lower and lower, one cupping my bare arse and the other dancing over the tiny thong, teasing at my centre underneath. "I was so hurt by Kathy. By the time I'd got over myself, you were the party girl, and we were best friends." He tucked his fingers in the elastic of the sexy underwear. "I wasn't going to risk not seeing you any more by making a clumsy pass." He laughed at the irony, as his fingers looped through the waistband; I lifted my arse to let him draw the fabric from between my legs and down my thighs.

"I get that," I admitted. "Fuck! All that time we've wasted!"

"Better make up for it now," he said, sliding to the floor between my legs and pushing my knees apart. Somehow it didn't feel strange to have my best friend staring in delight at my freshly shaven pussy. It felt right, so right. He kissed his way up my thighs, across my lips, onto my clit. I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding, surrendering to his long supple tongue as it explored my depths.

"Hmmm, what do we have here?" he asked, tracing his fingers across my smooth arse cheeks, resting a finger on the end of the butt plug and giving it a little wiggle, which made me squirm in delight.

"That was gonna be Roger's Valentine's present," I confessed. "He's been going on about taking me up the arse for weeks. So, I thought I'd get myself ready."

"Seems a shame to waste the opportunity," Pete said, eyebrow raised.

"Later," I promised. "For now... As you were." I pushed his head back between my legs.

His mouth was joined by his fingers, stroking inside me as his lips and tongue played over my lips and clit, consuming the nectar that now flowed freely from my depths. I could feel the orgasm building, slow but inevitable, as he expertly ate me. Bitch or not, Kathy must have been an expert tutor, when she wasn't playing the student.

Pete took his time, enjoying me as much as I was enjoying him, taking direction eagerly as I moaned and begged and pleaded. The pleasure towered above me, terrifying and glorious, as he licked and flicked me right into the storm. The wave crashed and consumed me, my back arching as pulse after pulse of heavenly fire radiated through my body. I was dimly aware of losing control, squirting jet after jet over his face and hands, and yet he continued his gentle pace despite my climaxing cunt crushing his fingers.

I managed to catch enough breath to beg him to stop, and he slowed his pace and withdrew. While I gasped for air, my chest heaving, he looked down at me with a mix of pure lust and arrogant pride. He scooped me up into his arms, my body still twitching with pleasure, and carried me to his bed.

"Fuck me, please fuck me now," I begged.

He laid me down and I scooted back on the mattress, propped up on my arms, legs agape, pussy waiting. He was so hard. I needed that inside me.

He leant over, tucking my legs over his arms, and slid the tip of himself between my lips and into my core.

"So hot, so tight," he moaned. Oral does that to me, makes me clamp up. But he rocked gently, and I moulded myself around him, every inch a new gift. I came again, or maybe I was just still coming from the oral, as he slipped ever deeper inside. Soon, we were as close as two people ever could be.

And that's how we started the next phase of our lives together; making love through the night until we couldn't anymore, slept, then fucked again. Pete took my arse that night, claiming all my holes, as I screamed his name into the darkness while he planted his seed deep inside me, over and again.

So here I stand, dressed in white in front of all our friends and with his cum dribbling down my leg, as we make our vows - and give thanks for the Kathy's and Roger's of this world, without whom two soulmates might never have got together.

THE END