Harper looks like he can't decide whether to bolt, to puke, or to cum in his pants.
Then again, I can sympathize, even if I'm not wearing pants. I wasn't exactly expecting one of my friends to come watch me get my cock stroked, and my ass stretched, by another dude.
The fact I'm still gripping Riley's dick through his underwear probably isn't helping matters, either.
And then the question he asked sinks in. "How come he knows 'the options'?"
Riley flashes a smirk my way, before looking, pointedly, at my friend in the doorway. "You might as well come in, then."
I genuinely can't decide if Harper's gonna do it or not. Even he doesn't seem sure.
Then he slips inside.
I'm naked, and Riley's very nearly naked, and this whole situation is fucking with my head. I grab his wrist, and tug his fingers out of my hole.
"If you weren't enjoying it, you just had to say," he says, his tone wry.
I give him a grumpy glare: he knows full well how much I was enjoying it. It's just that having your butt molested - even willingly - while your friend watches seems out of line. Even for someone who not long ago was jerking off in the same room as him.
Riley seems undaunted by my angry expression. Dragging his fingers up my dick, he lifts them to his lips. Licks off some of the glistening slop that has greased his hand.
There's something fucked up in my brain, because my mouth is watering at the idea of tasting myself again. Or, more accurately, at the idea of Riley feeding me my own goo.
"You wanna try?"
I'm opening my mouth to reply, when I realize the question isn't aimed at me. Harper's eyes like bullet holes, face pale, as his eyes dart between us.
"Why would he want to try?" I demand.
Riley gives me a look that says he's considering being disappointed with me. "Don't be a meathead, Lincoln."
I blink, brain processing. Then glance between them again. "You guys?"
Riley just keeps staring at me, expression placid. Harper looks as though he's about to hyperventilate.
"Since when?"
"Are you upset that you weren't my first?" Riley's tone is mocking.
I thump him on the chest, enjoying his wince. "Fuck you. It's a fair question."
He rubs the spot I hit, gingerly. "Is it? And if Harper asked about what we'd done so far? Or if my brother asked? Would it be fair for me to give them a list?"
"What did you do?" Harper sounds genuinely curious.
I shoot him a look. "Wait." Riley seems amused, still, when I return my gaze to him. "This is bullshit, Harper's not gay. He had a girlfriend."
Now Riley really does look disappointed in me. "There's such a thing as bisexuals, Lincoln."
I crane my head back, needing to look at my friend when I ask him this. "And are you? Bi, I mean?"
Harper bites his lip for a moment. "Are you?"
It's the sort of thing I'd normally just laugh at, but I guess - given I'm butt naked, straddling a nearly-naked guy, not to mention what Harper saw from the doorway - that's not necessarily an unfair question any more.
"I'm horny," I hedge, as though that explains everything.
Harper's gaze dips, to take in the rigid jut of my erection. Even with everything that's just happened, I'm no less hard than when I had two fingers deep in my ass.
"Yeah, I see that."
I click my fingers. "Hey, my eyes are up here."
There's a twist of a grin at the corner of his mouth, the first real sign that he's not about to pass out. "So, what were you doing?"
It's the second time he's asked, and I know it's prompted by the revelation there were details to tell. That was Riley's doing, so I flash him an angry look.
Again, though, his mood seems undimmed by my ire. "I was showing Lincoln how much fun his ass could be." He licks his lips. "Wanna join in?"
I blink, because I'm not sure whether Harper's just been invited to stick his fingers up my butt, or to get naked himself and have Riley toy with us both. Maybe I should feel more outraged about the former possibility, but for the moment that reaction isn't coming.
"You've done it, too?" I ask him, instead.
Harper seems wary. "Are you gonna overreact?"
I gesture down at myself - naked body, hard dick, drool still sticky on my chest - and then roll my eyes. "I'm just trying to catch up with all this shit, dude."
He looks like he's trying to figure out a way to explain it. Saved, though, by Riley reaching an arm to beckon him closer.
"Come on, Harper."
A sort of instinctive obedience, at least that's the only way I can see it. Harper's legs bringing him to the couch, but not stopping there. Walking across the cushions on his knees.
Riley lifts his hand, fingers softly crooked. I can see my precum gleaming across them, a syrupy glaze.
Harper's eyes are hooded, as he leans down and runs his tongue along Riley's outstretched index finger.
He's tasting me, slurping the goo my dick has been pumping out all evening, and all the sweat and spit, and the knowledge of that is leaving me dizzy. My attention glued to the look of blissful reverence on my friend's face, the shock of it rendering me statue-still.
Well, not quite all of me. My cock is twitching and throbbing, desperate for friction to go with the scene in front of me.
Riley catches my attention, with a grin. Jerks his head at Harper.
I'm not even sure what the message really is, though maybe it's as simple as "get involved, then." So I do the only thing that feels right, and reach for the hem of Harper's t-shirt. Tug it up, exposing the smooth contours of his chest.
He grunts, in frustration, as I yank it over his head. More, I think, because it means giving up on Riley's hand for a moment. There's something deeply flattering about the knowledge that he's so hungry for my pre, he'll whine when it's taken away from him.
No way not to wonder, then, whether Harper would be equally eager to sample it from the source.
I swallow, thrown by the unfamiliar thought. Toss the shirt away, and then reach for the button of his jeans. Even though, given the angles and how he's kneeling, there's not much more that I can do than skin them down to mid-thigh.
It's enough, though, to see how hard he is. Harper's cock straining against the pale gray of his briefs.
I run my fingers across the swollen pouch, and Harper's becomes the second dick - not counting my own - that I've ever touched in my twenty-two years of life.
Part of me wants them to lie together. Side by side, so that I can compare them. Grope them both through their underwear, then strip that away and do it all over again, to try to understand the similarities and differences. Not that I'd ever dare to suggest such a thing.
"So, how do I taste?" I ask him, to stop my brain from careening down such alleyways.
Harper's eyes are shining, somehow, when he turns to me. "Amazing."
His bluntness feels like an attack; I have to stop myself from flinching.
He glances down. "You're rubbing my dick."
"Y-yeah." I pull my hand back.
"I didn't mean it was a bad thing, dude."
Something in his tone, sparking enough of a mental connection that I remember this is my friend. Sure, he just got done licking my dick-slop from someone else's hand, and sure, I caught him watching me get my ass massaged from the inside, but beyond, and around, and underneath all that he's Harper. My buddy who grew up four doors down the street, and whose mom's tater tot casserole I can taste just by visualizing it on the plate.
What we're doing is weird, and new, and kinda scary, but Harper isn't.
"You're so fuckin' hard, dude," I say, grinning a little.
He looks down again, more pointedly. "Says you."
I shrug, but he's too busy watching me shake my hips. Just enough to set my cock wagging.
"Turns out it feels real good, when someone plays with your butt."
A chuckle. "Yeah, it does," Harper agrees.
Riley's watching all this with a smirk on his face. I look down at him.
"So, exactly how many of your brother's friends have you hooked up with, then?"
His expression is withering. "Is that really the conversation you want to have? Right now?"
It's only a tiny twitch of my head to the side, to shift my stare from Riley to the bulging front of Harper's briefs. I lick my lips.
When I glance back, Riley's smirk has returned.
"Take your jeans off," he tells Harper. "I wanna show Lincoln something."
It's only a few seconds, for him to wriggle out of them.
I shudder, as Riley's fingertips stroke across my hole. I was so busy watching my friend strip, I didn't even know to expect it.
"If Harper sucks your dick, will you suck his?"
I want to tell him this is unfair, that he's posed the sort of question that you should give your entire, undivided attention to considering before you answer. Whereas Riley knows full fucking well that a good chunk of my brain is currently focused on what his fingers are doing to my ass. Not pushing in, sure, but enough skin-on-skin for me to remember how incredible it felt when he was inside me.
"H-how do you know he even wants to?" I ask, hedging for time.
Riley grins at me, then tilts his head at Harper.
When I glance across, it's to find he's staring hungrily at my leaking dick. "Dude," I say, softly.
Harper's head jerks up. "Uh, what was the question?"
I could laugh, only I still have a decision to make.
"I... I've never..."
Riley's tracing tiny circles, right around my hole. The look he's giving me suggests he knows full well that I'm fighting not to push my hips back and grind against his hand. "Is that a no?"
It's not a fucking no, because I'd say 'no' if I meant that, and the fact that I haven't means there's gotta be part of me that wants to suck my friend's cock. Or, at the very least, that's willing to do that, in return for having Harper's mouth wrapped around my inches.
I nod. It's a tiny nod, but it's a nod all the same.
Riley sits up, hand still stroking. His other arm wrapping my waist, pulling me close to him. My erection sandwiched between us, grinding against his chest.
"I'd say take it easy on his throat," he murmurs, maybe just quietly enough for only me to hear, though that's not a given. "But I don't think he'd appreciate me telling you that."
Suddenly, I really, really want to know how Riley knows where Harper's limits are.
Not that I have a chance to ask, what with him pushing me off his lap. Shoving me down - not roughly, but with purpose - on the couch, the cushions still warm from where he was laying. It's a good vantage point to watch Riley ease his hand up Harper's back, following the curve of his spine, until his fingers are laced in my friend's messy wolf cut.
Harper looks like he's struggling to decide whether to look at me, or Riley, and so his eyes are ping-ponging side to side.
And then he's looking at the ceiling, when Riley pulls his head back. The older guy leaning in close, face practically mashed into the smooth underside of Harper's jaw.
"You told me you could make him feel better than his girlfriend, right?"
Harper's panting fit to burst, but all I can wonder about is when they've talked about this shit before, and what my friend has imagined doing to me.
Riley rubs his face against Harper's cheek, lips brushing his ear. "His cock feels so good in your mouth. He's so fucking juicy."
I should be blushing again, I know. Only all of my attention is locked on where Harper is trying, desperately, to look down at my throbbing erection.
Riley grins, as he relaxes his grip, and it's like he's released some wild beast upon me.
Harper on all-fours, legs straddling my thigh as he pushes his face into my crotch. Not the slow, amused teasing of before: of Riley's taunting, piecemeal delivery of pleasure. Now, it's like Harper wants to inhale my cock, to skewer himself on it all the way to his stomach.
The yelp escapes me, almost before I can even take a breath. Overwhelmed by the sudden grip of Harper's mouth on me, wet and tight, and barely seconds later before I can feel the grip of his throat closing around my swollen tip.
I can't help it, I buck my hips. Chasing that incredible, squeezing massage, and then hearing him choke and splutter a moment after. His drool hot against my skin, as he nuzzles against me, breathing hard.
Riley catches my eye, grins back at what I can only guess is the shocked look I give him. He almost seems casual; only the way he's rubbing his dick through his trunks gives him away.
He skins them down - fat erection lolling free - and then moves up next to me on the couch. Reaches out, to push gently on the back of Harper's head.
"Slowly, idiot. Lincoln's not going anywhere, are you, Lincoln?"
I shake my head, the motion jerky. Rewarded by another smile.
It probably counts, in comparison to his first attempt, as restraint. Which is to say, Harper's lips and tongue work across me with a sort of desperate, needy intensity that has me clenching my jaw. An animal urgency, blunt in a way I've never associated with my friend.
Only I never figured he'd be slobbering over my cock, either, so perhaps my judgment has always been impaired.
Part of me wants to just watch him, the way his lips look stretched around me. One of Harper's hands wrapped around the base of my shaft, his grip tight; making the veins stand out, and the broad, flared tip swell even further. Tender and hyper-sensitive, as he licks and sucks on it.
Thing is, Riley's thighs are spread right next to me, and I can't stop looking at his dick.
I know what it feels like, through his underwear anyway. Now my brain is trying to map that memory on top of what I can see, and maybe some of Riley and Harper have rubbed off on me, but the conclusion it keeps coming to is that I should stop bothering with that, and just reach out and touch him again.
He feels hot, against my palm, and hard with it. It's not the easiest angle to stroke him, but that doesn't seem to matter. Not for Riley, anyway, judging by the way he's staring down at my hand, and certainly not for me. It's mesmerizing, watching his skin shift as I work my fist along him.
There's a growing bubble of precum at his tip, and suddenly I can't help but wonder what he tastes like.
"How did you and him..." I say, instead, because otherwise I'm afraid I might suggest something very different. I jerk my chin down at Harper, who's still apparently doing his best to suck my dick clean off my body.
Riley raises an eyebrow, and I just know he's going to tell me it's not fair of him to reveal such details.
There's a popping noise, as Harper lifts off my cock. It looks so red, and slick, and rock fucking hard in his fist, I'm almost shocked.
"You might as well tell him." It's directed at Riley, but Harper can't seem to stop staring up the smooth contours of my chest. He blushes, when he finally reaches my face and realizes I'm watching him do it.
Riley laughs, and then taps him on the top of the head. "Fine. Back to work."
His lips are very nearly closed, when he dips down onto me again, and pushing through them feels a whole lot like I just fucked Harper's mouth. I'd wriggle, but he's doing a pretty decent job of pinning me down with that tight grip around my shaft.
Riley's watching my reaction with amusement, and for a moment I think I'm going to have to prompt him to do as Harper suggested.
"It's only been a few months," he says, then shrugs. "You were all over here, he was the only one awake, shit happened."
Harper pulls off my dick again. "Jeez, dude, tell the story better than that."
I whimper, as his hot, sloppy mouth returns to torturing me.
"Fine. You lightweights had crashed in the basement," Riley explains, "and Harper was the first one up in the morning."
My dick exits Harper's mouth again. "I had work," he explains, his mouth slick.
It's indecently difficult to focus on what Riley is saying, as Harper resumes his efforts, but I'm trying my damn best.
"You heard the cocksucker," Riley says, "he had work."
"Hey!" Harper is giving us both an indignant look, and once again my cock is wagging in the air rather than buried in his throat.
Suddenly, this on-again, off-again blowjob is too much for me to handle.
Harper's hair is damp with sweat, when I shove my fingers into its tangles, but his eyes barely have time to start to widen as I yank him back down into my crotch. Burying myself as deep as I can possibly go, and maybe it's instinct or he just prefers to be treated like this, but Harper's hand pulls off my dick, too. Nothing to stop me from pulling him to me, his lips wrapped tight around the thick base of my shaft.
"Shut the fuck up, dude," I hiss, desperately, "and let him tell the fucking story."
I'm about to release him, when Riley's hand lands on top of mine. Applying pressure: not so much that I couldn't pull free, if I really wanted to, but enough to make clear that I'm really not to release my grip on my friend. Even though Harper's making these clotted, gurgling little sounds from deep in his throat, and his gullet is sort of fluttering excitedly around me.
We hold him there, Riley's cock feeling somehow thicker and harder in my fist as each second ticks on, until he grins at me. Lifts his hand, or eases the pressure at least, and a moment later I do the same to Harper's head.
He pulls off, desperately. Flopping to the side, his cheek against my thigh; bubbles of drool and throat slime on his swollen lips. Panting hard, like he just ran a half-marathon.
I'm about to ask him if he's okay, if I went too far, when he pulls my dick down and - tears still trickling down his flushed cheeks - slurps the head into his mouth again.
Riley flashes me a "see?" sort of look, but I'm too overwhelmed to do anything in return beyond give him what has to be a pretty goofy stare.
"I was in the kitchen, getting coffee."
For a split-second I frown, unclear what Riley's talking about, until I catch up to the fact that he's back to telling the story.
"And this guy walks in, all bedhead and morning wood tenting out his briefs, and I'd have to be a fucking monk not to notice the way he's looking at me. Though with you straight boys" - he pats my cheek in a way that seems something close to affectionate - "you can never really tell. Up until the point it's really fucking obvious, anyway." A glance, pointed, at where his cock is in my stroking grip.
I have to ask. "So, what made him really fucking obvious?"
Riley smirks. "Your boy here full-on groped me, through my sweatpants. While I was reaching past him, to get coffee mugs. I almost dropped them, I was so surprised at his daring."
I'm trying to imagine it, the Harper I know - pretty quiet, pretty reserved, pretty... well, pretty damn straight - plucking up the courage to hit on our friend's older brother. Riley's not intimidating, at least in the traditional way, but I can't believe I'm the only one who has a bit of hero worship going on, about how well put-together his life is. A maturity that makes him feel off-limits, somehow.
"And..."
He snorts, at my prompt. I guess I sounded more desperate for details than I thought.
"And so I make some stupid comment, like 'Harper, are you trying to tell me something?' because I can't really believe he's actually doing it. But maybe all the bravery went to his hand, because he can't say a damn thing. Just looks at me with big eyes."
The bead of precum at the head of Riley's dick is so fat, and heavy, right now, I'm wondering if it's going to drip off right onto my wrist. That makes me curious whether he'd notice, if I licked it off my arm.
"I figured he wasn't going to propose anything, so I'd probably have to do it." Riley shrugs. "So I kissed him."
My eyes get big. "You kissed?"
Riley gives me a withering look. "He's got your dick halfway to his stomach, and you're worked up that our lips touched?"
It's ridiculous to be shocked, he's right, I know he is, and yet there's something different about the two things. Really different: they're intimate in clearly separate ways.
"If it helps," Riley adds, "he's a great kisser."
I can't be sure, but I really do think Harper gurgles with pleasure at hearing that. No words, mind, because he's too busy trying to stuff as much of my leaky cock into his face as he can.
There's so much whirling around in my brain, I don't even know where to fucking start picking at it. Horny from the eager mouth working me, and fascinated by the stiff cock more than filing my hand, and all the revelations of what's being going on around me, while I've been blissfully ignorant - and frustratingly celibate - of my friends hooking up.
Such a lot of shit I could be thinking about, then, so I'm not sure why the one part standing out right now is a weird kind of indignance. Frustration, that Harper has done something more intimate with Riley than I have, even though - if you asked me normally - I'd say I had no interest whatsoever in making out with another dude.
"Has he got his fingers in you, yet?" Riley asks, casual despite the bluntness of his question.
I blink, trying to process, then shake my head.
He glances down. "Spread your legs, then. Man, Lincoln, you're such a slow learner."
He's joking, I know he is, but it still stings. Hits that part of me which remains self-conscious that other people are faster, cleverer, even as I'm spreading my thighs as best I can under Harper's weight. Even, indeed, as I'm fighting the chunk of my brain still protesting that no, having my friend push his fingers inside me shouldn't be a thing that I want, much less encourage.
Those concerns go flittering away, though, when I feel Harper's hand straying down, between my cheeks. Spit-slicked and probing for my hole.
I'm buried in his throat, all the way, when he slides what feels like two fingers inside me. No way to hold back the groan of pleasure, at the strange, stretching, impossibly good sensations.
Riley looks delighted, though only for a moment. Then he just looks surprised, as I pull him forward by my grip on his cock, forcing him to shuffle closer on his knees.
Because I'm kinda pissed, honestly, that I'm the slow learner, here. Even if I know he wasn't being serious, or that it's hardly the sort of thing I'd normally think to compete over. But that doesn't mean I'm not competitive, even if the arena for that isn't football or stupid video games, and there's a part of me that wants to wipe the smug expression off Chance's older brother's face.
And in a way, I'm definitely successful there - the winner, you might even say - because Riley's showing nothing but astonishment when I pull the plump head of his dick to my lips, and lap that precarious bubble of gleaming precum off it.
He tastes like me, but different. Good, though. Real good.
"Lick me again," he says, staring down intently.
I'm slower, this second time. Partly because the urgency of that dangling droplet isn't there, but also because I'm enjoying watching Riley's reaction as I ease my tongue around the sharp, broad flare of his cockhead. Relishing the fact that I've managed to surprise him, the naive himbo for once getting the upper hand.
It feels only right and good, that I should pull his dick further down, until I can just about close my lips around the full tip.
I feel it, then. That weird inversion of power; of what by all rights should be a submissive thing, instead being the dizzying opposite. Riley's erection, his most sensitive part, twitching in my mouth, and his face makes it so fucking obvious that every little thing I do with my tongue is just shuddering through his whole body.
I could overwhelm him in a moment, leave his knees weak, just by sucking hard. Or worse, if I was the sort of asshole who used his teeth.
He doesn't stop me, as I ease my hand down his shaft and underneath. Into the splay of his legs, gripping his balls and using that handful to pull him closer still. Feeling the stretch as my lips pull around his shaft as it sinks into me.
I'm no idiot; I know, if that fat, blunt tip gets anywhere near my tonsils, I'm gonna start gagging. Rookie cock-sucking stuff. But I can't say Riley looks all too disappointed when I stop, about half of him in my mouth - and my tongue already working around it, exploring this new and quite possibly addictive sensation - and focus on playing with his balls, too.
"Fuck, you look so hot like that," he mutters.
There's a sort of weird pride, that flushes through me, at the lust that's clear in his voice.
The gap between his legs is hot, and there's enough sweat that it's really no challenge at all to push my fingers back and between his cheeks. Relishing the fact that, though Riley might seem so controlled and self-assured, he can't hide his body's giveaways. That he's horny, and turned-on, and when my fingertips finally brush across his hole, his grunt and the way he instinctively pushes back at my hand leaves it abundantly clear that he wants this just as much as I do.
There's something so fucking powerful, about being wanted.
Haley doesn't give me that shit, or not like this, anyhow. Like, I know she wants me to propose, and I know she wants me to settle down with her, be the 'perfect husband' she can count on. But she's never looked at me with the sort of 'I wanna fucking consume you' desire that's so damn clear on Riley's face right now; she's never touched me, feasted on me, like Harper is between my legs.
With her, it's always felt controlled. Tempered, and with more than half an eye on the future. Like, everything is according to some plan, with safety and stability at the very end of it.
The only plan I think Riley has, right now, is getting off. And, fuck, I really want to be the one that helps him with that.
He's tight, but I'm insistent, and it's clear he wants it too, and so eventually I work my forefinger into him. Loving the way his jaw drops open as I dig in deep, even if it's tougher to watch now that I've tilted my head so he can slide his cock in and out of my mouth more easily. Riley's hand gripping my throat, and I know he must be able to feel my pulse ticking fast against his fingers.
He's taking it easy on me, I'm pretty sure. Not just slamming his hips against my face, making me choke on him like we made Harper choke. There's a part of me that wishes he didn't feel obliged to, that wants him to drop these last vestiges of restraint and just lean into whatever the fuck is happening right now, but I know I'm not ready for that. That I could have all the good intentions in the world, about deep-throating my best friend's hot older brother, but that doesn't mean my body is on the same page.
It feels good, though. So fucking good. Especially when I look up, from the splay of Riley's thighs and his narrow waist, across the closely-cropped hair across his chest. All the way up to his handsome face, his mouth hanging open and eyes hooded, as the pleasure surges through him. And I get to know that I'm the one generating that pleasure.
Not like Harper has let up, either, my ass fluttering around his probing fingers while my cock gets a sloppy, sucking massage. I'd be lying, though, if I said I wasn't curious what else he and Riley have done together.
I'm regretting it, as soon as I'm pushing Riley back. Missing the heft of his cock in my mouth, that feeling of incredible fullness. Only the seeds of that curiosity have been planted, now, and there's no way I can ignore them.
There's something undeniably ego-boosting about the grumpy look Riley flashes me. Even if it means that, like my buddy Harper, maybe I'm not a disappointing cocksucker either.
"Did you fuck him?" I try not to make myself sound too interested, though I figure both of us can see through that lie.
"Why," Riley fires back, "did you want to?"
I look down at my friend again, his eyes closed as he bobs hungrily on me. I've known Harper almost as long as Chance, can't really imagine a version of my life without him in it. Only the guy I'm staring at now isn't quite that person I'm so familiar with. He might be wearing Harper's skin, and he might use Harper's voice, but I don't know this sexual, confident, urgent man currently slobbering on my dick.
So, Riley's question isn't so much "would you fuck your friend Harper?" as it is, "would you fuck this new version of your friend, that you've only just had your eyes opened to?"
I can't say the answer to that question is no, and that realization is making me feel dizzy.
Looking up at Riley, it's like he can see that in my expression. Or, maybe he just knows from experience what it's like: for the blinkers to fall away, and to see someone so familiar in such a new way.
"He'd let you," he says, stare intent. "He fucking loves it."
It's hard to swallow, and I don't even have the excuse of Riley's dick in my mouth to blame for it.
Harper loves getting fucked. Harper probably wouldn't object to me fucking him. I could probably do that now, tonight.
"Do you?" I ask.
I'm not even sure what question that is, exactly. Whether Riley has fucked my friend, maybe, or whether he himself likes to get plowed. I'm so out of my goddamn depth right now, I just need someone, anyone, who can say something with even just the slightest degree of certainty. An absolute that I can steady myself on.
"What do you want, Lincoln?"
I want to scream at him, that's what I fucking want.
He knows, too, I know he does. That I'm floundering; that my brain is rebelling, and my body just taking the path of least resistance, the one which leads to the most pleasure. It's not like I'm hiding it: not like I even could, if I tried. So the fact that Riley's not giving me a clear answer means he probably wants me to stay like this, careening from knee-jerk decision to knee-jerk decision, with nothing in my mind but chasing friction and the sensations that generates.
"I don't know what I want."
He smiles, and some part of my brain chooses that moment to remember that Harper has kissed those lips. Wonders what would happen if I tried to kiss Riley, too.
"You do. You're just too scared to say it."
"Fuck you," I snap back, suddenly angry.
"Okay." The smile spreads, like he's finding it hilarious that I'm taking all this so seriously. "Did you want me on all-fours, or missionary, so you can see my face when you cum in me?"
I open and close my mouth a few times, though no words actually emerge. I'd probably need Harper to stop blowing me, before I could actually think of something to say, but then the thought of stopping him - of intentionally pausing that flood of incredible feelings from my crotch, even just for a moment - seems obscene.
"Y-you'd let me?"
Riley laughs. "Let you? Lincoln, I'm not your girlfriend: I think the idea of getting plowed by you sounds fucking excellent."
I know I should feel indignant, on Haley's behalf - at least, that's what a good boyfriend would do - only I can't. The way she thinks about sex, that it's this shameful thing that she might concede to grudgingly do with me, assuming I deliver on my side of the marriage bargain first, is so incredibly at odds with how Riley frames it.
He's horny, I'm horny. He wants me to have sex with him, and I guess I want to do that, too, if the way my body is practically vibrating is anything to go by.
"One thing first, though," Riley adds, breaking into my astonished thoughts.
I blink at him, waiting for all this strange liberation to be proved wishful-thinking.
He licks his lips. "Can I at least eat your ass, first?"
Thank you for reading, and for all your comments and ratings! A couple of people have asked me what else I've written about exhibitionists and secret hookups: if you like those themes as much as I do, I think you'll enjoy "A Neighborly Seduction" 😉
Part four coming soon!
-Alex
