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The days following that night on the couch passed in an apparent calm that had me on edge. The apartment was still the same old walls, tiny kitchen where we barely fit together, the bed that creaked with every movement. But something had changed in the air, something intangible that slipped into every glance Kate gave me, every casual brush of her hand as she passed by. She kept going to the bookstore, I kept doing remote tech support from the couch, but now every time her phone buzzed I felt a stab in my stomach a mix of fear and heat that went straight to my crotch.
The first message came on a Tuesday morning while I was in the kitchen making coffee, the strong, bitter smell filling the space, when Kate came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her skin still damp and glistening from the shower. She came up behind me, hugged my waist, and rested her chin on my shoulder, her warm body pressing against my back.
“Good morning, love,” she murmured in that soft voice that always disarmed me. Her breath smelled of mint toothpaste, fresh and close.
“Good morning,” I replied, turning to kiss her. Our lips brushed slowly a short kiss but loaded, as if we both knew something was hanging in the air.
Then her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, smiled faintly, picked it up, and I kept stirring the coffee, pretending indifference, but my heart was already beating faster.
“It’s Alan,” she said casually, like she was commenting on the weather. She sat on the counter, legs dangling, the towel riding up a bit on her pale thighs. She opened the chat and read aloud, her tone playful, almost innocent: “I loved seeing you the other day, Kate. I keep thinking about how you smelled, about that mark I left on your neck. Can we do it again soon?”
Heat rose up my neck. The mark. That pink mark I’d kissed afterward, knowing it wasn’t mine. My cock twitched on its own under my pants, betraying me.
Kate looked at me, waiting for my reaction with those bright green eyes full of wicked curiosity.
“What should I reply?” she asked, tilting her head. Her voice was low, soft, but there was a challenge underneath.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know… tell him it was fun.”
She smiled wider, biting her lower lip. “That’s too lukewarm, Matteo. Don’t you want me to make it a little more… interesting?”
She hopped off the counter, stepped close until she was inches away, the towel brushing my chest. Her hand slid slowly down my abdomen, stopping just above the bulge I could no longer hide.
“Tell me what you really want me to say,” she whispered, her fingers pressing lightly, feeling me harden. “I know it turns you on. I felt it the other night when I told you about the neck thing. You got so hard just from that.”
I couldn’t deny it. I moaned softly when her hand squeezed a little more.
“Tell him… tell him I keep thinking about that night too,” I suggested, voice hoarse, ashamed but unable to stop.
Kate smiled triumphantly, typed quickly, and showed me the screen before sending: “I keep thinking about that night too, Alan. It was… intense.”
She sent it. The blue check appeared almost instantly.
“Good boy,” she murmured, kissing my neck slowly, her tongue brushing my skin. “This can be our little game, you know? You help me reply, and I tell you everything that happens.”
The coffee went cold in the cup while she kissed me, her hand sliding inside my pants, wrapping around me calmly. She stroked me slowly, no rush, while Alan replied: “Intense is an understatement. I’m dying to see you alone again.”
Kate read it aloud, her hand moving in the same deliberate rhythm, torturing me.
“What do I say now?” she asked, stopping just as I felt I was about to come.
“Tell him… tell him you’d like to do it again,” I stammered, thrusting my hips toward her hand.
She obeyed, typing: “I’d like to do it again, yes. No interruptions this time.”
She sent it and kept stroking me, simulating her pussy with her hand, faster and faster until I couldn’t hold back and came in her hand with a muffled groan, pleasure mixed with a hot shame burning inside me. I’d just come while telling her what to write to Alan.
The following days the game became routine a slow addiction consuming us both. Every message from Alan was an excuse for Kate to show it to me, for me to suggest replies that grew flirtier, more direct. She always touched me while we did it sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes on the couch watching a show, sometimes in bed before sleep.
One Wednesday night, after a pasta dinner we barely tasted, we were lying in bed. The bedside lamp lit her angelic face as she read her phone. I watched her; she was wearing a t-shirt that left her slim legs exposed, nipples visible through the thin fabric.
“New message,” she said, turning toward me. Her hand was already on my thigh, sliding up slowly. “Listen: ‘Kate, I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to really kiss you. That mark on your neck was just the beginning. What would Matteo say if he knew what I think about you?’”
Alan mentioning my name directly hit me like lightning. Pure, burning jealousy and at the same time an instant erection.
Kate looked at me, fingers brushing the bulge.
“What should I reply, love? Should I tell him the truth? That Matteo gets hard just thinking about it?”
I moaned, closing my eyes. “Tell him… tell him Matteo doesn’t need to know everything.”
She laughed softly, a gentle, wicked sound. She typed: “Matteo doesn’t need to know everything, Alan. Some secrets are more fun.”
She sent it and climbed on top of me, slowly pulling off her t-shirt, letting me see her small breasts, pink nipples hardened. She leaned down until her mouth brushed mine.
“Repeat what you just had me say,” she ordered, voice low and commanding. “Say out loud that Matteo doesn’t need to know everything.”
I repeated it, voice shaking, while she lowered my boxers and sank onto me in one slow, deep motion, feeling how soaked and hot and slippery she was.
“Good boy,” she whispered, starting to move in slow circles. “Now imagine Alan reading that and stroking himself thinking about me. Imagine he knows you’re helping me flirt with him.”
Every word was a caress and a lash. She fucked me slowly, forcing me to repeat increasingly humiliating phrases: “Tell him I’m dying to see you again.”
And I did. I repeated everything while she rode me, controlling the pace, stopping when I was on the edge, making me beg.
“Do you like this, Matteo?” she asked, hips undulating slowly. “Do you like being my accomplice? Knowing every message you suggest makes me wetter?”
“Yes,” I moaned, lost in the feel of her heat gripping me, in the delicious shame of admitting yes, that it turned me on to be part of my own humiliation.
Thursday the intensity rose even higher. Alan sent a gym photo tight shirt showing off his chest and arms, sweaty, caption: “Thinking about you while I train. What are you wearing right now?”
Kate showed me in the living room, sitting on my lap, her ass pressing against my erection.
“Look at him,” she whispered, zooming in. “Look how strong he is. Look how he’s staring in the photo, like he already owns me.”
I was panting, hands on her hips.
“Reply something hot,” I begged, unable to stop.
She smiled, typing while grinding slowly against me: “Just an old t-shirt of Matteo’s. Nothing underneath. I love how you look sweaty.”
She sent it and set the phone aside, pulling off the t-shirt for real, leaving herself naked on top of me.
“Now fuck me while we imagine him seeing that reply and jerking off thinking about my tits, about my wet pussy from his messages.”
We did it right there on the couch, her riding me with restrained force, soft moans in my ear, forcing me to say out loud: “Alan’s going to come thinking about you, Kate. And I’m fucking you knowing it.”
I came inside her with a growl, shaking, while she followed, clenching hard, nails digging into my chest. This kind of sex was something I’d never had with Kate before, yet it was a change I was ending up loving, even though inside I was dying of jealousy.
On Friday morning, the day of the proposed dinner, Kate was radiant. She got ready slowly in front of the mirror, wearing tight jeans that hugged her round ass, a white blouse with a subtle neckline that showed the curve of her breasts.
She turned to me, smiling.
“Tonight’s the dinner, love. What do you think? Should I go?”
My heart pounded hard. My cock was already hard just seeing her like that, dressed up for him.
“Yes,” I replied, voice low. “Go.”
She came closer, kissed me slowly, her tongue brushing mine.
“Thank you for being so understanding,” she murmured against my mouth. “When I get back I’ll tell you everything. But there’s one condition.”
She paused, her fingers sliding down my chest.
“I want you awake. Naked in bed. Waiting for me. Touching yourself slowly, but don’t come until I get home.”
I swallowed hard, excited and terrified.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I want to see you like that when I tell you what happens with Alan. I want to see you hard, desperate, knowing another man had me close all night.”
She kissed me again, deep, possessive.
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” I moaned.
She smiled, satisfied, grabbed her bag, and walked out the door, leaving the apartment silent and me with a painful erection that wouldn’t go away. I just knew the wait had begun.
Kate pushed open the restaurant door and the warmth enveloped her immediately, along with the low murmur of conversations and the aroma of grilled meat and red wine. It was a small place with dim lights and crowded tables. Alan was already there in a corner at the back. He stood when he saw her, and his smile was slow and confident, like he’d been waiting for this moment all week.
“You look incredible, Kate,” he murmured when she reached his side. He hugged her tight, his hand lingering a second too long on the small of her back. She felt the heat of his body, the fresh scent of his cologne mixed with something more masculine.
“Thank you,” she replied softly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.
They sat across from each other, but the table was so small their knees brushed right away. Neither moved them. Alan ordered a bottle of red wine without asking, and the waiter walked off quickly.
“You’ve been in my head the whole time,” he said, leaning forward a little. “Since the last time, I can’t stop thinking about how that mark looked on your neck.”
Kate felt the blush rise to her cheeks, but she smiled. “Oh yeah? And what exactly were you thinking?”
“That I wanted to make it bigger,” he answered without looking away. His eyes dropped for a second to her lips and came back up. “You have a mouth that’s begging to be kissed, Kate.”
She bit her lower lip without realizing it. The wine arrived; he poured their glasses, they clinked softly and drank, eyes locked over the rim.
“Tell me what you really like,” Alan asked, voice low. “Not the usual stuff. The things that make you nervous in the good way.”
Kate laughed softly and twirled her glass between her fingers. “I like being looked at the way you’re looking at me now. Like you already know what I want before I say it.”
He reached across the table and brushed her fingers with his. “And what do you want right now?”
“That you don’t stop looking at me like that,” she replied without pulling her hand away. Their fingers intertwined slowly, and he squeezed gently.
Alan’s foot found her calf under the table. It slid slowly up the inside of her thigh. Kate parted her legs a little without thinking, and Alan smiled.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered. “I love that.”
“No, it’s the cold,” she said, voice huskier. The brush of his shoe against her skin was making heat pool between her legs.
The waiter came with the food, but they barely touched their plates they were only focused on who would make the next move. Alan kept stroking her hand, then dropped his own under the table, brushing her thigh over the jeans, pressing right where the fabric ended.
“Tell me you like it,” he ordered softly.
“I like it,” she admitted, almost in a whisper.
He slid his hand a little higher until it grazed the inner seam of her thigh. Kate felt the wetness growing. She parted her legs another centimeter.
“You’re dangerous, Kate,” he murmured. “You’re driving me crazy right here in front of everyone.”
“You started it,” she replied, pressing her knee against his.
Alan leaned farther across the table. “I want to kiss you right now,” he said quietly.
Kate looked at his lips. “Then do it outside,” she suggested, voice trembling with excitement.
When that moment came, they were just talking about unimportant things, both wanting to finish the meal quickly so they could leave and have what they’d been craving. Both of them knew they had controlled Matteo perfectly for this moment to arrive it was going to be the best night of their lives, with no one interrupting, and above all, falling into the sin of humiliating Kate’s boyfriend was a kink only they understood.
Alan paid quickly without waiting for change, and they grabbed their coats. They stepped out into the street where a light rain dampened the air and the restaurant lights reflected in the puddles. The cold contrasted with the heat they both carried from inside. Alan took her hand naturally and led her a few steps to the side wall of the building, sheltered by a small overhang.
He stopped and looked her in the eyes for a second before moving closer. His large body covered hers slowly, without rushing.
“Can I?” he asked, voice low and hoarse, almost a whisper.
She barely nodded. Alan leaned in and brushed his lips against hers softly the kiss started slow, lips closed, just pressing. Kate sighed against his mouth, and he deepened it, tongue sliding in slowly, exploring.
“You taste so good,” he murmured, pulling back a centimeter. “Better than I imagined.”
He kissed her again, deeper this time, gently biting her lower lip. Kate moaned softly, and her hands slid up his chest, feeling the tense muscles under his shirt.
Alan gripped her waist, pulling her closer his hard erection pressing against her stomach. She felt the size of his cock throbbing through the fabric.
“Fuck, Kate,” he growled against her neck. “You’ve got me crazy since you walked in.”
His lips moved down to her neck, kissing the pale skin softly. Kate tilted her head, giving him access. He nipped delicately right where the previous mark had barely faded.
“I want more,” he whispered against her skin. “I want all of you tonight.”
Kate was trembling, wetness soaking her panties. Alan’s hands slid slowly under her blouse, brushing her warm bare back. Then down to squeeze her ass firmly, pulling her tighter against his hardness.
“Feel what you do to me,” he said, barely moving his hips. “I want to be inside you, Kate. I want to hear you moan my name.”
His fingers slid up again, brushing the edge of her bra, touching her hardened nipple over the fabric. He pinched it gently, and Kate gasped.
“Say yes,” he insisted, kissing her deep again. “Come to my place now. No one has to know.”
Kate closed her eyes, desire flooding her. “Maybe,” she answered, voice broken. “Maybe next time.”
Alan didn’t stop he kissed her harder, his hand dropping to the button of her jeans, brushing just over the fabric, pressing exactly where she needed it most.
“Just a little more,” he murmured against her mouth. “In my car I want to really touch you, feel how wet you are for me.”
Kate gasped when his fingers pressed harder. She pushed gently against his chest with her hands, but didn’t pull away completely.
“I need to think,” she said, breathing heavily. “I need to go home.”
Alan looked her straight in the eyes, his hand still gripping her waist possessively.
“Isn’t this exactly what maybe Matteo wants?” he asked, voice husky with a slow smile.
That sentence hit her like lightning, arousing her to her core. Kate looked back at him without blinking, body trembling, unsure if she would go with him that night or not.
To be Continued…
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