Mushrooms Ch. 02

I was starting to like who I was becoming.

With animal roar, I put all my energy into fucking Maisy. She was lying flat on the counter, now, pushed up there from the force of my thrusting, her arse hanging off the edge and her feet dangling off the ground. I held her in place with one hand on her lower back and the other in her hair. She was whimpering, now, nonsensical with lust, her legs quivering as orgasms ripped through her. Slick with sweat, her body was trying to slide on the smooth marble countertop, but I wasn't letting her go anywhere. More sweat dripped off my nose to land on her butt and run down between the cheeks. It ran lower and combined with the copious fluids coating my cock, which I could feel dripping off my balls and into the shorts crumpled around my ankles.

I didn't care how much mess we made; all that mattered was that I keep going. Maisy was limp, now, a ragdoll bouncing in time to my thrusts. Her eyes were closed, but her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, a sign that she was still enjoying herself. I felt my balls begin to churn and a wicked urge overtook me. Pulling free of her sopping, well-fucked pussy, I pressed the angry purple crown of my dick to the puckered pink ring of her arsehole.

Her eyes shot wide open when she felt it, and she looked back at me with a blend of shock, uncertainty, but most of all, lust. She watched my face as I pressed forward until she accepted me. With my cock so lubricated with her juices, there was little resistance. I groaned heavily as I slid inside her hot, tight channel. She clenched me tightly while her whole body shivered, goosepimples covering her skin.

"Oh, Christ, Brian!" she moaned. "That's so good!"

Once I bottomed out, I began to cum. Letting go of her hair, I gripped her hips hard as I bucked against her, emptying myself into her arse. My cock fired off five, six, seven, eight times, and kept going as pleasure threatened to overwhelm me. I was suddenly using Maisy's hips to hold myself up, for my legs had gone to jelly.

After an eternity, my orgasm abated. I fell forward onto Maisy's back, breathing hard. "That-" I started to say, but had to try again after gulping more air. "That was insane."

Maisy said nothing, but I felt her nod beneath me. I was still buried in her butt, and she shivered when my cock twitched with an aftershock. Slowly, I pushed myself up and pulled free of her with a wet pop. My cum started flowing out of her immediately, but I quickly pulled off my shirt and sacrificed it for the greater good, for which Maisy shot me a grateful smile.

"That was... intense," she remarked as she hopped down off the counter with my help. "I thought you were going to break me, at one point."

With my lust haze somewhat diminished, I felt a moment of concern. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

I relaxed when she shook her head. "I meant in a good way," she explained with a grin as she bent to scoop up her dress. "A girl likes to be done hard sometimes. Well, most of the time, if you ask me. And that bit at the end? That was a nice surprise."

"Happy to oblige," I replied smoothly as I pulled up my pants. They were considerably wet, now. "What do you say we go get cleaned up?" I was also much more aware of our risk of exposure now that my higher-functioning brain was back in control. From the way Maisy hurriedly nodded, she was thinking the same.

"I'm not sure what came over me," she said as we climbed the stairs. She was awkwardly holding the shirt between her buttocks as she walked, but she appeared not to mind too much. "I just felt so... wild, you know? Like I could do anything I wanted and get away with it."

I could relate to that well enough. Maisy hit the bathroom, and from the doorway, I described to her what it had been like for me. Neither of us thought it strange that I was talking to her while she was on the toilet. After what we'd been doing together lately, this was nothing.

"I don't know about you," she said as she washed her hands after she was done. "But I really liked it."

"Yeah," I said, a little thoughtful. "I did, too, but that was unusual behaviour. We could have been caught."

Maisy came to me and put her hands on my chest. "Does that mean you regret it?" she asked softly, a knowing glint in her eyes.

I grinned. "Not one bit. But the risk was real. We should be careful from here on out, especially if these mushrooms are affecting our ability to think when we're horny."

Maisy nodded in agreement, but the light in her eyes never dimmed. I had the feeling her exhibitionist side would be something to keep an eye on, yet I couldn't ignore the thrill that ran through me at the thought of what we might get up to, even while I feared exposure at the same time.

I guess this is what all exhibitionists experience, I mused. The fear of being caught adds to the excitement.

Maisy kissed me and announced she needed a shower before work, so I left her to it and went to my room to get some work done; it was time to start increasing my profits. First, though, I took down detailed notes of the past few hours' happenings, making sure to leave names out of it. I was going to have to find a better way to organise my findings; the pile of yellow legal paper was growing quickly. Perhaps a notebook I could keep in a safe? I resisted the urge to type it all up on the computer and leave a digital trail, which was perhaps a little paranoid, but this was a whole new game, one that I was very much still feeling out.

I did have a lockable drawer in my desk, which would suffice for now. Adding the new notes to the pile in the drawer, I locked them away and turned my attention to my work. As expected, I had emails from three of my clients singing me praise for the increase in enquiry they'd noticed over the last couple of days. Now confident I was on the right track, I thanked them and went on to answer a few more who'd requested quotes. To these, I responded with a fifty percent markup over what I used to charge. If they questioned that price, I would simply connect them with the companies I'd just helped, and word of mouth would sell my services for me.

I spent the next little while working on two more current clients, doing for them what I'd done for the others, increasing web exposure through SEO and social media. My brain worked even faster than yesterday, which meant that not only did I finish up the current two projects in under two hours, I added a third. I needed to get all my old clients out of my backlog -- and make sure they got great results -- before starting on new ones under the increased pricing. The good reputation would be useful -- almost critical -- moving forward.

"Alright, Ben's Automotive," I said aloud I perused this latest project. "You are about to become the most popular mechanic in town." Smiling confidently, I got to work. The day slipped away, but I hardly noticed, so absorbed was I in what I was doing. I began to realise how much I enjoyed my job, now that I could read patterns and make connections I hadn't been able to before. Traversing between different platforms and devouring large amounts of data was a breeze. It made me very effective. I had Ben's Automotive done in no time, then moved on to a fourth client: a fertilizer company, of all things.

In the late afternoon, I forced myself to stop and take a break, though my brain wanted to keep going. Now not engrossed in my work, I noticed something I had ignored before: the funky stench of my own body, unwashed after sweating up a storm with Maisy earlier. With a grimace, I headed for the shower -- carefully checking first to see if it was occupied -- and then I was kitchen bound, ready for another hearty meal.

If I was lucky, I'd be in and out before anyone passed through, and keeping contact with Becca and April to a minimum was a good idea, at least for now. My hopes were dashed, however, when I entered the kitchen and through the wide window at the other side, saw April sunning herself on the daybed by the pool. Face down, her head turned away from the window, she wore tiny black string bottoms, and that was it. There was no sign of a bikini top anywhere, at least from where I stood; perhaps it was beneath her.

A blend of desire and dismay coursed through me, each fighting for dominance. I considered abandoning my meal, but I was too famished to give the notion any oxygen. Firming my resolve, I pulled open the fridge only to see that I was effectively out of food. "Crap," I muttered. "Looks like I'm ordering in."

When the fridge door closed, my view to the pool area was clear again, and my eyes wandered that way before I could stop them. April had turned over, baring her breasts to the late afternoon light. Her skin seemed to glow, from her painted toenails, all the way up those long legs and over that flat belly to the round fullness of her breasts, capped by little pink nipples. She was twenty metres away from where I stood, but I felt as if I was right next to her.

The front door opening brought my head around. A second later, Becca entered the room, sunglasses on and handbag still over her shoulder. She carried a shopping bag in one arm, bulging with groceries. In the other hand was a paper bag that clinked when she put it on the counter. "Hey, Brian," she greeted me carefully, as if unsure of herself. She seemed overly focused on the task of unloading her groceries onto the countertop, as if she didn't want to look at me.

"Hi, Becca," I replied politely. "How are you?"

"Not bad," she said in the same measured tone as she began to put her groceries away. I moved back so she could get to the fridge. "Just been out shopping."

"I should have done the same," I confessed as I rounded the counter, wanting to make a quick exit without being rude. "Looks like I'll be ordering in, though."

"Oh, really?" she remarked, turning from the fridge to look at me. She'd pushed her sunglasses up into her red hair, pushing the thick, frizzy mass back from her pale face. Her mouth had been open, about to say something, but when she saw my face, I got the sense she changed it. "You don't need to do that. I have plenty of stuff here." Her look had suddenly turned hopeful, which was the last thing I needed, right now.

"Oh, I can't do that to you," I said quickly. "I'm happy to get a pizza, really."

"Nonsense," she insisted with a smile. "I'm making lasagne and there will be plenty for both of us."

I started to protest politely, but my stomach growled at that moment, betraying me. Why did it have to be lasagne? It was my favourite, and Becca was no slouch in the kitchen; I'd tasted her cooking before.

"See?" she added with a giggle. "Your stomach knows a good thing when it hears it."

Despite my reservations, I felt my will crumbling. What harm can dinner do? It's not like I've agreed to a date. Besides, perhaps it's a good opportunity to mend things with her a bit. The last thing I want right now is to have to find a new room to rent. "Okay, sure," I said after a moment's deliberation. "Why not? I can't pass up a free meal!"

"Excellent," she replied brightly, her pale blue eyes twinkling. "I also have plenty of wine, too!" Pulled open the paper bag to reveal two bottles of red.

"Great!" I said, pretending to be pleased. "I'll be sure to transfer you some money, too, to cover this."

"Don't worry about it," she told me as she resumed packing the fridge. "It's on me."

Thanking her again, I took a seat at the island bench, wondering what I had just gotten myself into. I lost myself in my thoughts as I tried to play out the rest of the night in advance, but was rudely interrupted by Becca cursing under her breath as she stared out at the pool area.

"How many times..." she muttered angrily as she threw the window open above the sink. "April! Put some clothes on! This isn't your old sorority house!"

Over Becca's shoulder, I saw April sit up slowly, as if she'd been asleep. I bit the inside of my lip and forced my eyes to focus on my hands atop the counter. "Sorry!" I heard April call from outside. "I forgot to put it back on!"

I heard the lie in April's voice. She'd left it off deliberately in the hope that I'd see her. I might not have believed that yesterday, but if you added the shower incident with today's display, it wasn't a long bow to draw. It had to be the mushrooms. What I was going to do about it, I had no clue.

"I'm not running a bloody nudist colony," Becca grumbled as she closed the window. Outside, April was bending over the day bed to retrieve her bikini top from the other side, which unfortunately presented her effectively naked butt for my viewing pleasure. I shuffled my stool closer to the counter to hide my physical reaction. What a shame, I thought to myself in response to Becca's comment, though I dared not voice that one aloud.

"I swear she's getting worse," Becca continued as she busied herself again with the groceries. "She'd go around naked all the time if I didn't say anything." I kept silent, sensing that Becca wanted to vent. "I mean, I know she's got the body for it and everything, but some people aren't so... free... with that stuff, you know? I could almost believe she's Swedish or something, the way she cavorts around."

My eyes cut to the bottles of wine, which were looking better by the second. Shaking her head, Becca eyed me for a second. "I suppose you don't mind, though."

"What do you mean?" I asked blithely.

"Oh, don't be stupid," she grated. She wasn't mad at me, exactly, but there was irritation in her tone. This was side of Becca I hadn't seen so much, before. Normally she was much more reserved. Friendly, but reserved. She flung a hand toward the window, where April was now standing by the daybed and tying her bikini back on as if she had all day. "Take a look at that! Don't tell me you don't like what you see! You're a man, after all!"

I suddenly found myself laughing, though I could not explain why. There was just something funny about the whole situation, and I found Becca's indignant attitude enjoyable, somehow. At least she was being real with me and not distant, like before. "Alright, fine," I confessed. "She's pretty." I held my hands up like a criminal caught in the act. "Don't shoot me, officer. I have children!"

Some of Becca's candour melted at my silliness. "Yes, well, I suppose I asked for that," she conceded, putting her hands on the counter and staring at a packet of mince. Staring through it, really. "It's hard sometimes, you know?" she went on in a quieter tone. "Living with two beautiful girls. I mean, I like them both, but sometimes..." she didn't finish, but I saw the sad expression crossing her face before she turned away.

My heart went out to her, then. She was such a nice girl, friendly and kind and considerate. She deserved happiness like anyone else. I left my chair and grabbed two wineglasses from the cupboard. "Got any compunctions to a glass of wine while you cook?" I asked her back. Her head swung, but she didn't turn around. I wondered if she was crying. The way she lifted the back of her hand to her face said she might be.

"I wish I knew what to say," I said honestly. "But at this point, I think wine will help."

"Thanks, Brian," she said softly, turning to take a glass from me. "And sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that. I've just been a bit frustrated lately."

"It's alright," I assured her, resuming my seat. "Don't sweat it."

"I really do want to be friends, you know?" she said after taking a big sip. "I like the house with you all in it, and I want things to work. I've just been a bit out of sorts, is all. I should never have asked you out and put you in that position."

Again, I insisted Becca forget about it. "Let's worry about more important things, yeah? Like a huge lasagne." She laughed at that, some of her good spirits restored.

"Sounds good," she agreed, putting her glass down and getting to work. I offered to help, but she insisted she had everything under control. Soon, the irresistible smell of onion, garlic and butter filled the kitchen, pushing my hunger to new levels. Becca and I chatted amiably as she cooked, and I did my best to keep the conversation away from things that might trigger her, like Maisy and I, or April and her uninhibited behaviour. This made me realise how bad things might have been had Becca caught Maisy and I in the kitchen earlier. Would have been a bloody disaster.

Some things could not be averted completely, however, for April strolled in through the patio door after a few minutes, tiny bikini and all, her skin shining with lotion. "Smells good!" she announced as she went to the sink to pour a glass of water. She peeked over Becca's shoulder to see what was cooking. This put her arse right in my field of view. I tried my best -- I really did -- but I could not stop myself getting an eyeful. Right as my eyes landed on those healthy, tanned cheeks, April glanced at me over her shoulder and winked.

Shit. I'm done for, I thought miserably. If she gets me alone, I'm toast. There was no point lying to myself; I would be putty in April's hands if she so much as touched me. I'll just have to make sure she doesn't get that chance.

"Bolognese?" April enquired toward Becca as she watched the mince go in.

"Lasagne," Becca answered flatly as she stirred the meat around. A moment later, she sighed in resignation and looked at April. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. I shouldn't have. It's your body, so if you don't mind topless sunbaking, it really isn't a problem for me."

"Oh," April said in surprise, her fine eyebrows rising. "Thanks, Becca. That's really cool of you."

Ah, crap, I moaned internally. Now she'll be out there every day, flashing herself at me.

"Don't mention it," Becca replied, this time a little more warmly. "You live here, too. It might be my father's house, but you pay rent just like the rest of us."

"Thanks, girl," April replied with a bright smile. She touched Becca on the shoulder affectionately before finishing her water and leaving the kitchen. I kept my gaze firmly on my wine in front of me, unwilling to make further eye contact. At least she didn't try anything overt in front of Becca.

"It's alright, Brian," Becca said once April was gone. "You can look up again, now." I did so to see her grinning at me, wooden spoon in one hand smeared with red sauce. I noticed her glass was empty, so I prompted her to pass it to me for a refill.

"I'd kill for a body like that," she told me, leaning a hip against the counter. "I try and lose weight, but I just never seem to get it right, you know?" Her cheeked reddened, then, and she cleared her throat. "Sorry, you don't have to say anything. God, I'm just blurting out whatever comes to mind, today. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing," I said as I poured myself a fresh glass. "There's nothing wrong with you at all. What's so bad about being open? Sometimes you get hurt, but not always. There's benefits, too." The wine had put a pleasant buzz in my head, and a warmth in my belly.

She gave me a grateful look. "Thanks. That means a lot. Hey, maybe I should ask you; you're looking fitter, lately. What have you been doing differently? You must have lost ten kilos recently."

"Well," I began, thinking quickly. I had expected this question. "I've been working out a lot, in my room. Just bodyweight stuff, mostly. It seems to be working."

"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully. "What about your skin, and your hair? You're just kind of glowing lately. Even your eyes look brighter. Sorry to be nosy, but if you're taking some new vitamin or something, I want some!"

If only you knew, Becca. I assured her that aside from trying to do more clean living and get more sun, there were no secret vitamins. We didn't say much more until she put the lasagne in the oven, after which she suggested we sit outside for a while, until it was ready. I readily agreed, and soon we were sitting by the pool, glasses in hand. Becca was easy to talk to once she forgot herself and just spoke her mind. She made me laugh a few times, and I did my best to return the favour.