tagGroup SexGoddess Ch. 03: Gladiators

Goddess Ch. 03: Gladiators


*Author's note- This is the third installment of the Goddess series. This chapter will make more sense and be much more meaningful if you read the previous Goddess stories—Goddess and Leaving Heaven Behind—first.


I woke up first, my mind groggy. I saw Mark, eyes closed, mouth open and drooling, as per usual, but why was he so close? And why was his hair brown? And why the hell was he wearing a mask?

Then everything that had happened the night before came rushing back to me.


I smiled, feeling my own mask nudging my cheeks. I woke up staring at Mark most mornings, sans masks, from my own bed across our dorm room, and the dark hair mine, not his. I ran a hand across my head, feeling hair that was now shorter and much, much blonder than it had been 48 hours before.

I contentedly stretched my entire body—arms to the headboard, toes to the edge of the bed—enjoying the soft sheets. Surprised at how much I was enjoying them, actually. If you'd have asked me a second earlier if I'd been completely satisfied after the previous night, I would have shouted, 'FUCK YES!' without a second's hesitation. The tent below my bellybutton apparently had a dissenting opinion. There was a good chance nothing except dust would come out once it got worked on, but I was willing to test that theory.

I was disappointed not to wake up next to Sara—she must have been in the bathroom. Mark was starting to stir, his own tent suggesting he'd be game for a group shower.

It hit me that I hadn't even considered sneaking into the bathroom to have Sara to myself. I probably would have done it in a heartbeat just a couple of days ago, but now it would feel...wrong. And I was surprisingly okay with that.

I'd had real concerns that this weekend would be the end of our friendship, but the plan Mark and I had conceived had worked—just not at all the way we'd intended. The end result was better than I could have imagined, even if we'd joked about it. I never saw it coming, and I'd be willing to bet a million dollars that Mark hadn't, either.

I guess neither of us should have been so surprised by something years in the making.


My friendship with Jeff should have started with an acrimonious beginning—it would make for a better story—but the truth is we fell ass-backwards into friendship, and it had worked for us from day one. It was fate that we were thrown into the same dorm room as freshman, and even the misfortune of our other two miserable roommates brought us closer together; nothing cements a good friendship like hating the same people. That was what brought Sara into our lives, too.

Sara was great, but she was also torture, though neither Jeff nor I would admit it for a very long time.

The first time I saw her, she was laughing with one of the aforementioned roommates just outside of our dorm room, and it was abundantly clear to me she was too good for him. That impression could have been due to the fact that Dave was an absolute douche, but it was more likely because it took all of my self-control to not kiss her hard and fuck her right there against the wall.

I wasn't sure why she affected me the way that she did, but good god, she absolutely did. I practically salivated at the thought of her pale skin yielding under my hands, her large breasts in my mouth, her soft body under mine. It took me a really long time before I could talk to her without fantasizing about stripping her out of whatever clothes she was wearing to run my hands over every curve of her body. I mean, I still fantasized about it, but I was also able to carry on a conversation.

The only reason I never acted on my cravings was because Sara was...cool. Like, crazy cool. Smart, funny, sweet, sarcastic—basically perfect. She didn't date douchebag Dave for long, but by the end of their short relationship, Jeff and I had both bonded with her, friendship cemented.

Friend-zoned would be the wrong term for what we had with Sara, because that would imply girls are things you put niceness into for sex to pop out of, and that's a pretty pathetic way of thinking. But it didn't ever feel there was a right time to try and make my relationship with her something more. For one thing, Jeff was always with us, and on the rare occasion he wasn't, Sara sought him out. It would have broken my heart if it had been anyone else—or if she didn't search for me the same way when she was alone with Jeff.

For our part, Jeff and I refused to admit how we felt about her to each other. It was the only thing we'd ever lied to each other about, but in a lot of ways it was okay because we refused to admit it to ourselves, too. Then Sara mentioned there was a certain cologne she really liked, and the next day both of us showed up with an industrial-sized bottle of it.

Jeff's eyes were wide when he saw I had one, too.



All we could do was shrug and grin. After that, our crush was open conversation, though neither of us knew what to do about it anymore than we had before.


Eyes still closed, Mark yawned loudly, and stretched as deeply as I had. Turning my way, he grinned at me and tapped his mask.

"Do you think she's ready to take these off yet?"

"Unless she's showering in it. Let's go give her a surprise."

Mark shifted his mask on top of his head and rubbed his eyes, yawning loudly again.

"Yeah, sounds good. Should we unmask here or in there?"

I thought about Sara dropping to her knees and pulling off our costumes before she started stroking and sucking on our cocks. My tent got bigger.

"In there. She'll appreciate the drama."

Mark slipped the mask back over his face while we rolled out of bed. I saw the bathroom door was slightly ajar, but I couldn't hear water running.

I pushed it completely open, the room was dark.


I flipped the light on an empty room.

"Well...fuck. I didn't see that coming."

Mark took the words out of my mouth. He was the first one to see the note; I was too busy staring at an empty shower with intense disappointment, erection deflating. He pulled his mask off with one hand and the note off of the mirror with the other. He read it quietly then passed it to me and I did the same. The "adhesive" was still damp. It smelled like her, and revived my hard on, but I was still disappointed that she was gone. We must have just missed her.

"She...she really didn't know it was us. There were a couple of times I could have sworn she did."

Mark shook his head.

"Me too. Damn, I wouldn't have guessed our costumes would be quite so effective."

He laughed.

"Of course, I wouldn't have guessed anything that happened last night would have happened, ever."

I couldn't disagree.

We decided to take advantage of the large shower before we made the walk of shame to our own hotel and drove home. I offered to let him go first, but Mark scoffed.

"Dude, after last night, I think we can shower together."

I laughed and turned the water on; Mark shut the door behind us. The shower was enormous—it felt as big as the communal shower in our dorm. We each claimed a section of jets and passed the soap back and forth.

I lathered and could feel Sara's hands on my body. Her mouth on mine, working her way down my chest, my stomach...I suddenly realized my cock was very clean. With an embarrassed grin, I looked over at Mark only to see him stroking his soapy cock as well. He returned my grin with a smirk of his own.

"Sorry, man. I can't stop thinking about her."

I displayed my aching erection.

"You're not the only one."

I started stroking myself again, seeing Sara in front of me, under me, on top of me, remembering how I'd come in her soft mouth and her wet pussy and her tight ass. I groaned as my come flew hard and fast from under my fist. I opened my eyes to see Mark, wide-eyed. I gave him a questioning look.

"I was going to apologize for coming on you, but then you came all over me!"

We stared at each other, then burst out laughing. With all of the hot water jets pelting us, I never would have known if he hadn't said anything.

"It would have been a much bigger deal 24 hours ago."

He was right again.


At first, I was worried that being fixated on the same girl would tear me and Jeff apart, but it surprisingly had the opposite effect; it was cathartic to talk about her without trying to pretend she was just a friend or any other random girl. Sometimes when we were a little sleep-deprived and feeling punchy, we'd speculate about the body she hid beneath the over-sized clothes she wore, or whether the rest of her body was as soft as her hands. We'd share details about glimpses of cleavage or thighs from minor wardrobe malfunctions. More than once, it led to both of us discretely jacking off under our covers while we talked over fantasies—we knew what the other was doing, obviously, but we didn't acknowledge it. It should have been insanely awkward, but because it was Jeff, it wasn't, not even when it got to the point we could toss lotion or tissues at each other on request.

We both dated other girls on and off, but never for long. Not only were personalities incompatible in even the hottest girls, it was obvious to both of us that Sara meant more than any of them. Unfortunately, it was just as obvious that if one of us did manage to cultivate a romance with her, the other was going to be left out in the cold. That sucked. And it sucked for years, because Jeff and I were simultaneously afraid of both rejection and success.

Whether it was proximity or something more, the three of us hung out, studied, you name it, on a regular basis. Jeff and I decided to stay in the dorms each year just to be close to her, afraid we'd fall out of her life if we moved off campus.

One ordinary night in her dorm room, Jeff motioned to me to stand guard at the door when she ran to the bathroom. He mouthed 'Is she gone?' I nodded and he immediately started messing with her computer I chastised him in a harsh whisper.

"Dude! What are you doing?"

He took a picture of the screen with his phone and put everything back the way it had been when she left.

"I'll explain later. Sit down."

Later that night in the safety of our own dorm room, he pulled up the screen on his phone and found the page on his laptop. It was the last thing I would've expected from Sara, but my pants got tight at the thought of her just looking at the page.

It was a confirmation for a room at Caesar's Palace and a ticket to their annual Hedonism Masquerade. My mouth hung open—Sara, our Sara, was planning to go to a notoriously debauched party...ostensibly to get laid.

"No way."

"Totally true, dude."

Jeff pointed at the dates.

"Look—it's the day after her forensics tournament, which is in Vegas."

I was still in disbelief.

"Does she not realize she could hook up with a dozen different guys without leaving the building?"

Jealousy hit me hard in a way I'd never felt before—even when Jeff described exactly how he wanted to fuck her in vivid detail. Jeff was staring past me into space.

"Apparently not...but...I think I have an idea."


Considering the fact that we'd be practically naked even if we put on every article of clothing we'd brought into the room, we opted to carry out our slings and masks, holding our heads high through the knowing looks and snickers across the lobby. I willed myself to think about anything but Sara making the same walk in that sexy goddess costume. I didn't regret not wearing underwear the night before, but it sure as hell wasn't doing me any favors now.

Back at our own hotel, getting out of our room and onto the road was our main priority...until Mark made a good point.

"What if she doesn't want to know who we were?"

He ran his hand through his faux-dark hair. I stopped short, my hand on the doorknob.

"Damn. I hadn't thought about that."

I threw my bag back on the bed and pulled out my electric razor. Thank god we'd brought it along to do some landscaping down south. Mark pulled his shirt off and I buzzed him there in the middle of the room, then he did the same to me. In the car, Mark finally saw his reflection in the rearview mirror.


"Get us on the road, princess. It'll grow back."


Jeff was officially insane.

"No. Just...no way. She'll recognize us!"

"Dude, it's a masquerade. Meaning masks, costumes—she won't. Especially in the dark under strobe lights."

He had a point, but I was still hesitant to let him know that.

"Unless we wear full-on astronaut suits, helmets and all, Sara is going to notice a tall, brown-eyed, blonde guy and a tall, blue-eyed, dark-haired guy approaching her. She's seen us almost every day for the past three years!"

Jeff's eyes lit up, and I groaned. What could I have possibly said to encourage him?

"That one's easy! Dye job. Done. And really, if she does recognize us, would it be the worst thing in the world?"

I threw my hands in the air.

"Bitch, it might be. She's obviously going through all of this trouble because she doesn't want to be recognized herself. If she sees us there, searching her out, she's going to be humiliated."

Jeff deflated, slumping in the chair and running a hand through his shaggy hair.

"No, you're right. It's just...I can't keep doing this, man. It's getting physically painful, and I'm not talking about blue balls."

I sighed and sat on the bed next to him. I knew exactly what he meant. We both wanted Sara so hard. Sexually, no question, but a deeper connection, too.

"One of us has to make a move, Mark. If I do it, and I totally crash and burn, I could fuck it up for you, and if she doesn't want to be with me, I wouldn't want to see her with anyone else."

I clapped a hand on his back. I felt the same way. He grinned at me.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't want to see her with you, either."

I flipped him off; his smile got bigger, then his face was serious.

"Seriously, think about it. What if we go, we approach her as strangers, and we let her decide?"

As much as I hated to admit it, and I HATED to admit it, it had the makings of a decent plan.

"Alright, if we do this,"

Jeff's blue eyes took on the all too familiar glint they did when he got his way.

"I said IF. Then it has to be an even playing field."

He was so stoked that he knew I was going to go through with his insanity that I could have gotten him to agree to practically anything.

"Go on."

"Identical costumes. There's no way I'm going as Robin to your Batman, and absolutely no way I'm going to get into one-upping each other on quality."

Jeff mulled it over.

"Totally fair. Deal."

"And yes, we need to change our hair, but we do it in Vegas. That way, if she completely blows us off, we can color it back or whatever and be spared the humiliation."

He pointed at me enthusiastically.

"That is a solid idea. Ready to do some shopping?"

Not even a little, but it was happening. I looked at Jeff while he turned to his laptop again to google our options, hoping that I wouldn't come home with a crushed spirit or a devastated best friend. One or the other—hopefully not both—seemed unavoidable. One thing Jeff had said was 100% true, though: we couldn't keep going on like this. It hurt too fucking bad.

We commenced arguing over costume choices like a couple of bitchy sorority chicks. After much back and forth, we settled on Roman gladiators, and I will not even try to describe how. 5-7 days later, they were staring at us from a box, daring us to try them on, and I was having serious second thoughts.

A knock on the door made Jeff throw a blanket over the delivery. I opened the door just before Sara burst in on her own, bubbling over with nervous energy.

"I'm on my way out! Wish me luck!"

She flung herself at me, then Jeff, doubling us over in ferocious hugs. We placated her with assurances she was going to do great, and she blew kisses as she shut the door. Jeff turned to me.

"Still want to do this?"

I couldn't take my eyes off the door.

"Fuck yes."


The drive home was so. goddamn. long. I would have sworn under oath that it took us five hours longer to get back than it had to drive to Vegas in the first place, and that was with Mark's foot down as far as the gas pedal would go.

We didn't talk much. With the exception of recapping the previous night into painful erections that we couldn't safely take care of at over a hundred miles an hour, it didn't feel like there'd be much to say until we talked to Sara again. It was only during the last hour that we discussed how to do that.

"I say we knock on her door wearing the masks."

"Then why'd we bother shaving our heads, dingleberry?"

Mark conceded that I had a point.

We finally settled on casually dropping by and asking how her trip went. The hope that she'd strip us down and reenact the night before remained unspoken.

As soon as we were back in our room, the urgency to see Sara disappeared. I was as nervous as I had been when we'd left for the masquerade, and I saw the same conflicting emotions in Mark's face, too. I thought about rubbing one out before we went downstairs, but it would have been about stalling, not necessity. He opened the door this time.

"Let's do this."

We came out of the stairwell to see Sara rushing past us, the towel wrapped around her wet, naked body gaping open at the side. Out of every scenario I'd mulled over on the long drive home, I was not prepared for that one.

I was traversing that soft skin with my tongue less than twelve hours ago.

My dick certainly remembered the taste of it. I looked at Mark; his did, too. I hooked a thumb back at the stairway. Mark nodded, knocking on Sara's door to let her know we'd be back later. I was already halfway up the stairs at that point, but he was still right behind me when I opened the door to our dorm room.

As soon as the lock engaged, pants were down around ankles and I was throwing Mark a bottle of lube we'd brought back from Vegas. This time it was definitely necessity, and being back in our dorm didn't mean the return of the masturbation decorum we'd had before. I braced myself against the wall with my free hand, and Mark braced himself on my shoulder with his. It couldn't help but think of the two of us clinging to each other while we came in Sara's warm mouth, and it was over for me.

"Fuck, dude. Fuck!"

My load shot all over Mark's waist and leg, but there was nothing I could do without pulling away, and if I'd have done that, he would have fallen on his face. As it was, he didn't even notice—he was coming right behind me. Or rather, in front of me. Then on me. He was quieter than I was, at least until he opened his eyes. He made a face.

"So is this our new thing now?"

I couldn't help but laugh. Coming on each other was a lot less disturbing to me than how quick on the draw I'd been that day; if it got any worse, I'd juice up my shorts in a warm breeze.

We got cleaned up, and I can't express how glad I was that it wasn't awkward—we definitely had Sara to thank for that. I wanted to thank her properly.

"Let's try that again, shall we?"


I stared at the reflections in the salon mirror, shocked at how much of a difference changing our hair made. I'd been blonde my entire life, and Jeff's hair had been almost black an hour before. I'd suggested we get Caesar cuts to further entrench ourselves in the costumes, and it felt like that made almost as much of a difference as the color. Two decent piles of hair littered the floor behind us.

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