Lola and the Locked Door

"Good girl," he whispered as I began to suck on his finger, positioning his cock back against my sloppy, freshly-fucked pussy. "You're going to make a very hot slut-wife."

I moaned with his fingers in my mouth as Jack's cock slid back inside me again.

...

The next morning, I opened my eyes to a knock at the door.

It took a second for me to orient myself and realize that I was in Justin's bed. For a second, it seemed like I had dreamed the events that had taken place overnight, that it had all been a vivid, delirious fantasy. But as soon as I tried to sit up, my naked body betrayed the truth of what I'd done.

My entire body hummed with a dull ache that seemed to pulse with every beat of my heart. My small, sensitive nipples were chafed, rubbed raw from being abused by Jack's hands, mouth, and cock. My legs felt creaky and weak, and I noticed some small, light bruising around hips and ass. Between my legs, my pussy throbbed with a familiar soreness that I hadn't felt since before Justin and I first met.

"Lola," I heard Justin call through the door. "Are you up yet, babe?"

Climbing unsteadily out of bed, I saw the wreckage that the night had wrought. Justin's clean, tidy bed was now a rat's nest of stained, twisted sheets, streaked with salty deposits of dried sweat and yellowed cum. The white lingerie set that I'd worn to bed was crumpled up on the floor, next to the discarded sleep shirt that I'd borrowed from Justin's dresser.

"Just a minute," I called, frantically grabbing the shirt and pulling it over my head.

I picked up Justin's comforter, which had been spared the worst of our sordid fuck-fest, and tossed it over the bed, trying to hide the evidence below. I kicked my underwear beneath the bed and turned to look at myself in the mirror.

I gasped at the face staring back at me. My long, wavy black hair was all askew, and my carefully-applied date-night makeup was smeared across my face, lipstick and eyeshadow and mascara bleeding together with saliva and stale cum to create the mask of a slut. I had to admit that I still looked beautiful and alluring in a tragic sort of way, like a fine young whore who has endured a long night of abuse but still has the suppleness and resilience of youth on her side.

And I had endured a long night. As Justin waited patiently for me on the other side of the door, scenes from the night flashed through my mind.

I'd had plenty of wild nights in the past, sometimes with multiple men, but I wasn't sure if my body had been through anything as relentless and demanding as Jack's insatiable desire. Jack didn't have the biggest cock I'd ever fucked, and he wasn't the best lay I'd ever had, but his recovery time was something to behold. Even the most dominant alpha males usually need to come up for air after an orgasm, and typically when a guy boasts about fucking a girl "all night long," he's really talking about having sex two or perhaps three times.

But that night, Jack's appetite for my body had been truly bottomless. He would cum inside me, and before I'd even caught my breath, Jack would be fondling my tits, sucking my nipples, or fingering my pussy, shit-talking his older brother all the while, his cock twitching back to life as if it were possessed by some kind of demonic spirit. And then, within minutes, Jack was back inside me, fucking the life out of my tight, 21-year-old body once again.

Some of this could be chalked up to the seemingly endless stamina and energy of a 19-year-old as compared to the older men I usually fucked. Some of this was due to the fact that this was Jack's first time with me and the novelty of fucking someone new. And all false modesty aside, some of it surely had to do with the fact that I was undoubtedly way hotter than any girl Jack had ever fucked, as a beautiful half-Asian girl with a Division 1 tennis body and huge, perfect tits is a rare combination that most men don't even dare to dream of.

Of course, in all of this I've conveniently glossed over one particularly salient detail, which is that Jack wasn't fucking just any hot, slutty Asian girl. He was fucking his older brother's girlfriend in his older brother's bed. What's more, he was pillaging the forbidden fruit of my body before his brother had even had the chance to taste them. With every thrust of his hips, Jack was claiming a part of me that his brother had never touched, defiling our relationship as he plundered my body, conquering us both with each orgasm and every illicit moan that he forced from my lips.

From his actions and his words, it was clear that this was no mere sibling rivalry from Jack's perspective. Jack had a deep, burning anger towards his older brother, a seething contempt that must have evolved over years of bitterness and resentment. As Jack fucked me over and over again, it was hard to say whether he was more turned on by the pleasure he reaped from my sumptuous body or the satisfaction he felt in taking revenge on his older brother.

Jack's thirst for me was so unquenchable that he wouldn't even let me leave the bed. As soon as he finished, I would try to get up, but he would pull me back down. I begged him to let me get a glass of water, to use the bathroom, to sleep for even a few minutes, but his only answer was to begin groping me anew, talking himself back to full mast with sordid, vivid descriptions of how he was going to use me at his brother's expense.

Far from letting me sleep, Jack pounded my body mercilessly over and over, driving himself into me with violent intent. I knew that dominant men sometimes got off on punishing me, heaping abuse and scorn on me for being such a slut even as they enjoyed the spoils of my submissive nature. But for Jack, it was evident that he was using me to punish Justin, repurposing my ripe young body into a vehicle for both exquisite pleasure and delicious retribution.

How many times did Jack fuck me that night? It must have been at least 5 times, but I'll never know the exact answer. Sometime in the dark hours before dawn, I lost count, with one fuck blending into another in an exhausted, sleep-deprived haze. I only know that he moved me systematically from one position to another, as if to make sure that he had sampled everything my body had to offer by sunrise. He seemed intent on leaving no part of me untouched, despoiling every inch of my body so that Justin could only ever follow in his footsteps. The entire time, his words painted a sadistic vision of my future, one in which I was married to Justin but enslaved by Jack, burning the phrases into my brain as he fucked me:

"... I'm going to breed you like a bitch before the wedding so you walk down the aisle with my baby in your belly..."

"... I'm going to record the sound of you cumming on my cock... and you're going to set it as your ringtone... so you both hear it when I call to say I'm coming over to fuck you..."

"... on his birthday, I'm going to share you with one of my friends and make Justin watch, so he can see up close the kind of two-cock slut he married..."

These cruel and callous fantasies seemed to fuel Jack's limitless sexual energy, but he wasn't the only one getting off. These dark, vivid depictions began to draw me in, and before long I was complicit in imagining this dangerous and dystopian future, feeding Jack's twisted fantasies with my own approval and encouraging him to find ever more inventive ways to humiliate and emasculate my boyfriend.

So while the night had begun with me pleading with Justin not to let Jack stay the night and begging Jack not to fuck me in Justin's bed, at some point all the guilt and shame I felt over betraying my boyfriend was transformed through a kind of sexual alchemy into lustful scorn and open mockery. It wasn't long before both my body and my mind had succumb to the taboo pleasures of cheating on a good man with his more dominant, sexually aggressive, alpha male brother. I began to responding to Jack's dark incantations with visions of my own:

"... I'll let you fuck me at your parents' house, Jack... and I'll scream your name so loud... that your whole family will know that Justin's wife is your Asian whore..."

"... I'll wear whatever you want, Jack... the tightest dresses, the tiniest bikinis, the sluttiest lingerie... I'll cocktease Justin until he wants to explode but I'll never let him have me..."

"... I'll flirt with all of Justin's friends... I'll act so slutty, baby, so they know that I cheat on him... but I won't let them fuck me, Jack, not unless you give permission..."

I'd never thought of cheating as one of my kinks. Big cocks, sure. Powerful, aggressive, arrogant men, yes. Older men who preyed upon my daddy issues, obviously. But it wasn't until I was in the clutches of my boyfriend's younger brother that my cheating kink began to emerge.

I think this is because my relationship with men is such a twisted tangle of pathologies that I have an irresistible impulse to adopt their fantasies as my own. I am so hungry for male approval, so desperate to fill the void that my father left in my life, that my desires are malleable to the point of mirroring those that men project onto me.

What's more, my competitive nature tends to manifest as a tragic sort of vanity that makes me want to be remembered by the men that claim me. Even when a man's advances are initially unwanted, as with Jack, once I am under his power, I cannot resist embracing my situation. If a man is going to fuck me, I want it to be the fuck of his lifetime, the fuck that he tells his friends about and jerks off to into his golden years. Knowing that he may never fuck me again, my vanity compels me to give him the ride of his life, even when my mind is screaming at me not to encourage his aggressive behavior.

This is the reason why I let Jack get the best of me in the first place. On Thanksgiving night, I may have been consciously pretending to enjoy sucking his cock, but on a subconscious level, I wanted it to be the sweetest blowjob he would ever get. But this kind of reward only begets more extreme behavior, like driving drunk across two states to fuck your brother's girlfriend.

Another knock on the door roused me from my reverie.

"Babe, are you coming?" Justin called from the other side of the door. "We need to leave soon or parking at the trailhead is going to be a nightmare."

I walked over to the door and opened it just a crack.

"I'm sorry, honey," I croaked hoarsely. "I had a really rough night."

"Oh no," Justin said, concern replacing any hint of annoyance. "What happened?"

"After Jack woke me up, I couldn't go back to sleep. I was up practically the whole night."

"God, he's so selfish," Justin sighed, shaking his head. "He's still passed out on the couch. Probably slept like a baby all night."

"I did tell you not to let him stay over," I chided gently.

"I know, I know," Justin said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, hon. Can you forgive me?"

"Sure, babe. I know it isn't easy for you to have a brother like him." I gave Justin a little peck on the cheek. "I really need to sleep, but you should still go for a hike. No reason for both of us to waste the day."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I'm not sure how I feel about leaving you here by yourself."

"I won't be by myself," I corrected him. "Jack will be here, right?"

"Is that better? I thought you didn't really like being around him," Justin said, scratching his chin.

"I don't," I said, shrugging. "But I guess I need to get used to it. He is your little brother, after all."