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Part 5&6 –
Seventh, the beginning
By then the room had changed.
The crowd was gone. The noise was gone. Even the heat felt different.
There were only three of us left in Bryan’s room, and that made everything sharper. The bed was half stripped, one pillow on the floor, a hoodie hanging off the desk chair, empty bottles near the wall. The lava lamp on the desk threw red light over everything and made skin look hotter than it was. Downstairs, the party was still going, but it had become background now. Just a bass through the floor. A burst of laughter from the stairwell. Somebody yelling over a song that had already changed.
Up here it was slower.
Katie sat on the floor between my legs, turned halfway toward me, halfway toward Jack. Her black dress was wrinkled from sitting on the floor and from people grabbing her all night. Her hair had come loose. Her glasses kept sliding down her nose. She was drunk enough that every expression stayed on her face half a second too long.
Jack was by the desk, one shoulder against it, beer in his hand, watching both of us like he had all the time in the world.
Then he said, “So.”
Just that. Quiet. Easy. Even charming.
Then, “You two are a thing now?”
Katie blinked at him.
Not fast. Slowly. Like she had to pull her focus back into place.
Then she turned and looked at me.
“Yeah,” she said.
Her voice was thick and warm from the alcohol.
“My boyfriend.”
She reached back and found my hand without looking, then laced our fingers together.
Jack nodded once.
“Pretty good, John,” he said.
He looked me over, then looked down at our hands, then back at Katie.
“Girls always liked you,” he said. “You just never did anything with it.”
I said nothing.
Jack lifted his beer a little in my direction like he had paid me some kind of compliment.
Then he looked at Katie and added, “She’s a good girl.”
Katie laughed under her breath. A mix of annoyance and acknowledgment.
“Thanks,” I said.
It came out flat.
Jack pushed off the desk and crossed to the laptop on the dresser. He crouched, clicked around, and changed the song. Whatever had been playing cut out mid beat. Then piano came in.
John Legend.
“Tonight”
Jack straightened and said, “Better.”
Then he looked back at us.
“For talking.”
Katie shifted against me. Restless. She took the beer out of my hand like it had been hers all along and drank from it too fast. A little spilled at the corner of her mouth. She laughed and wiped it away with the back of her hand.
Jack watched that too.
Then he said, in the same calm voice, “I’ve seen you two out together.”
I felt Katie go still for a second.
Jack kept going.
“At parties. At the bar that night.”
He tilted his head at me.
“You kiss her like you’re scared of breaking her.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He said it lightly. Not like an insult.
“You’re too careful,” he said. “You hold back. You move like you’re asking her permission.”
Katie looked from him to me, smiling a little because she was too drunk to know whether this was funny or dangerous.
Jack pointed his bottle at her.
“She’s not fragile,” he said. “She likes to be held.”
Then, looking right at her now, “Don’t you?”
Katie opened her mouth, shut it again, then twisted toward me so fast I barely caught up.
She took my face in both hands and kissed me hard.
Not sweet. Not shy. Hard.
It was messy because she was drunk and because she was trying to prove something she had not fully defined. Her glasses bumped my cheek. Her fingers were hot against my jaw. When she pulled back, her breathing had changed.
“See?” she said.
She looked at Jack when she said it.
“He grabs me.”
Jack smiled.
Not big. Not smug exactly.
“That was better,” he said. “But you’re still trying to prove it. That’s different.”
I felt something cold move through my stomach.
Katie laughed, but weaker this time.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Why are you like this?”
Jack set his beer down on the desk and came a little closer.
“Because,” he said, “he should know what he’s doing.”
He looked at me.
Then at Katie.
Then back at me.
“She knows how I kiss,” he said. “If you want, I can show you what I mean.”
I stood up a little, trying to be assertive. Own what it’s mine.
I should have said no.
I did not say anything at all. I wanted her to stop it. I wanted her to make the choice I needed.
Jack held out his hand to her.
Not to me. To her.
Katie stared at it for one long second, then put her hand in his.
He pulled her up easily.
She stumbled once when she got to her feet and fell into him more than stepped there. His hands went to her waist automatically. He steadied her like this had happened before.
Then he kissed her.
It was different from the kiss she had just given me. Not bigger. Not wilder. More controlled. Like a Hollywood kiss.
One hand stayed at her waist. The other went up behind her neck. He angled her face where he wanted it and kissed her like he had already decided what the shape of it would be. Katie made a small sound against his mouth.
That was the first thing that got me. Not the kiss itself. That sound.
Jack pulled back after a few seconds, still holding her where she was, and looked straight at me over her shoulder.
“Like that,” he said.
My whole body had gone rigid.
Jack’s hand was still at the back of her neck, thumb near her jaw.
“You hold her like you mean it,” he said. “You don’t hover.”
Katie’s eyes were half closed now. Her mouth slightly open. She looked dazed in a way I had not seen before.
Jack looked down at her.
“You like that, don’t you.”
Katie did not answer immediately.
Then, quietly, “Yeah.”
He let go of her then.
Not fully. Just enough that she had to step back on her own.
She did not go far. She ended up near me again, but turned toward him, not me.
Jack went back to the desk, picked up his beer, and leaned there like he had not just changed the whole room.
Then he said, “You two taking it slow?”
Katie looked at me first.
Then at the floor.
Then at Jack, and smiled. She took my hand “We are,” she said.
Jack nodded.
“I figured.”
Then she looked at me and bit her lip, then at Jack again, and finished “We are doing it today.”
“You don’t make plans to make it right. You just feel it.” Jack asked.
I said, “We want to do it right.”
Jack’s mouth twitched like he almost laughed.
Katie folded one arm over her stomach. Not defensive. Just suddenly aware of herself.
Jack kept talking in the same steady voice.
“We never went all the way John. I don’t know if that bothered you. Katie told she was a virgin and wanted to share it with someone special.” It did bothered me, of course, and he knew it. Still, it warmed my heart that I, of all the people, was that person.
He put his beer down with an impact.
“But…” He said cleaning his mouth on his sleeve “That doesn’t mean I don’t know her.”
“Knew,” I said.
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Knew her.”
Jack held my eyes for a second, then smiled like I was a child trying out a new tone.
“Sure,” he said. “Knew.”
Then he looked back at Katie.
“I still know what you like.”
Katie said nothing.
Jack crouched so he was closer to our level.
“You like confidence,” he said to me, but about her. “That’s the whole thing. Not somebody acting tough. Somebody who knows where to put his hands. Somebody who doesn’t flinch every time you lean in.”
His hand went to Katie’s knee. And even that made her breath hitch.
Jack looked at me like he wanted me to notice every detail.
“You see that?” he said.
Then he slid his hand slowly up to the middle of her thigh and stopped there.
Katie’s back pressed harder into my chest.
“She likes a firm touch,” he said. “Not panic. Not hesitation.”
I should have moved his hand.
I did not. I was too busy hating the fact that she was responding to it.
Jack moved his fingers off her leg and touched the side of her neck instead, just under her ear.
“She likes being kissed here too,” he said.
Katie closed her eyes. That was answer enough. Jack leaned back a little and looked at me again.
“She’s telling you everything,” he said. “You just have to actually look.”
Katie swallowed. Then she turned her head slightly toward me and said, almost apologetic, “He’s not wrong.”
Jack stood up.
“Come here,” he said to her.
He held out his hand again.
Katie looked back at me.
Her face was hot. Her expression unfocused. But there was something bright in it too. Excitement. Curiosity. The drunken thrill of being watched and wanted and talked about like she mattered.
“Just dance,” she said.
I did not answer. She took his hand anyway. Jack pulled her up and brought her in close as the chorus came back in through the speakers. He moved with her slowly.
He kept one hand at her waist and one between her shoulder blades and guided her through it like there was a structure to follow. Katie gave in to it almost immediately.
“You see?” Jack said quietly over her shoulder.
He was talking to me again.
“She stops overthinking when somebody leads.”
Katie looked at me then. Like she wanted me to understand what he was saying even if she hated how he was saying it.
Jack turned her slowly so her back was to his chest. His hands stayed at her waist. He moved her a little to the beat and she went with it, head falling back for one second before she caught herself.
“Like that,” he said. “Not forcing. Directing.”
Katie glanced at me over her shoulder. There was something in her face that almost said ‘learn this.’ Jack let her turn back around.
She took the tequila bottle off the floor, drank from it, made a face, and handed it to him. He drank too. Then she held it out toward me without looking away from him.
I took it and drank because I had no better idea of what to do right now and somehow I wanted to make what she told me to.
Jack pulled her close again. He kept talking the whole time.
“She wants to feel chosen. Wanted. Desired.”
Katie’s breathing had gone shallow. Jack’s too, though he hid it better.
He turned her once more and this time sat her on the edge of the bed instead of keeping her standing.
He stayed standing over her for one second, then sat down beside her.
“Katie,” he said.
She looked at him.
“When we were together,” he said, “did I pay attention to you?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did I guess, or did I listen.”
She gave a small, helpless laugh.
“Oh Jack. You listened.”
He looked at me.
“That’s the difference.”
Then back at her.
“Did I stop when you said stop.”
“Yes.”
“Did I push you past what you wanted.”
“No.”
“Good,” he said.
Then, more quietly, “Did I know how far you wanted to go before you said it out loud.”
Katie looked down at her hands in her lap.
Then said, “Usually.”
Jack nodded.
“That’s what he has to learn.”
I could not tell if he was humiliating me, helping me, or enjoying the fact that those two things were, at least now, the same.
Katie looked at me then.
For the first time since Jack started talking, she looked right at me and held her gaze.
Her face was flushed. Her mouth soft. Her eyes wet around the edges from alcohol and overload and maybe shame.
“Babe,” she said quietly.
I stepped closer without meaning to. She reached for me. Not Jack. Me.
Her fingers caught in my shirt and stayed there.
“I need you to get me,” she said.
Then she looked away again, toward Jack, because of course she did.
And Jack, still sitting beside her on the bed, watched both of us with that stripped down focus that was somehow worse than the smirk.
Then he kisses her again. Hard. His hand goes straight into her hair, gripping, pulling her head back to open her mouth. His other hand slides down, grabs her ass, and lifts. Katie reacts without thinking, her legs wrapping around his waist, arms locking behind his neck.
He takes two steps and drops her onto the bed. She hits the mattress and bounces once. Her dress rides all the way up, bunching at her hips. Black panties, thin lace, already dark at the center. Her thighs fall open, heavy, stockings twisted high.
Jack stays standing over her, breathing hard. Adjusts himself through his pants, slow, deliberate. Then he looks at me.
“Remember,” he says, voice low, controlled, “the night I went down on you, Katie? The only time.”
Katie’s head rolls to the side, then back. Eyes locked on him.
“I made you come so hard you screamed,” he continues. “You remember that?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “I remember.”
Jack nods once, “You tasted sweet,” he says. “And you were tight. So ready. Even though you were saving yourself.” His hand presses again against himself through the fabric. “You wanted it. You wanted my dick. But you said no because you wanted to do it with someone special.”
“I did,” Katie breathes. Her hand slides down her stomach, over the fabric of her dress, settling between her legs. She starts moving slowly, pressing, circling. “I wanted it,” she repeats, softer.
“But you didn’t take it,” Jack says. “You waited.” He gestures toward me without looking, “For him.”
“Now he’s here,” Jack goes on. “Now he’s the one who’s supposed to know what to do with you.” He tilts his head slightly. “Does he?”
Katie finally turns her head. Looks at me properly this time. Her face is flushed deep red. Eyes wide, unfocused, but not empty, there’s something in there. Horny.
“Babe,” she whispers. Her voice shakes. “I’m so wet. I’m so…” She swallows. Can’t finish it. Her hips lift off the mattress, pressing harder into her own hand, chasing friction through the fabric.
“I need…” she tries again, quieter now..
She looks back at Jack. Then kisses me.
Her body started moving, searching, like it’s waiting for one of us to decide what happens next.
Eighth, John tried
Jack kneels at the edge of the bed, his big hands sliding under Katie’s thick thighs, spreading her legs wider. Her black dress is bunched up around her waist, the fabric twisted and damp with sweat. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her panties. The black lace, soaked through, translucent with her arousal, and pulls them down her legs slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric drag against her skin until they’re off completely, dangling from his hand before he drops them to the carpet.
She’s exposed. I see it for the first time. Her pussy is perfect. Not the dark, butterfly labia Jenna described about herself, not the used, gaped look of pornographic experience, but something pristine and pink. Small, tidy lips, barely protruding, glistening with wetness that beads at the seam like dew. A tight, virgin slit, the kind of anatomical rarity that makes men stupid, the kind that looks airbrushed but is real and right there, pulsing slightly with her heartbeat, framed by the lace tops of her stockings and the soft, meaty thickness of her gym-built thighs.
“Jesus,” Jack breathes, and his voice is reverent, broken. “Look at you. So pretty. So fucking untouched.”
He leans in, his tongue flat and broad, and licks her from the bottom to the top, one long, slow drag that makes Katie’s back arch off the mattress, her hands flying to her own breasts, squeezing them through the dress. He does it again, circling the clit now, pressing harder, and Katie makes a sound like she’s being murdered. High, keening, desperate.
“Jack,” she whines, her hips bucking against his face. “Please. Please don’t stop.”
He doesn’t stop. He settles in, his face buried between her legs, his tongue working in tight, practiced circles, his hands gripping her thighs hard enough to leave white marks on the flesh. Katie is writhing, her head thrown back, her glasses fogged completely, her mouth open and gasping. She’s grinding against his face, using him, her thick thighs trembling on either side of his head.
I watch, transfixed, my cock hard and aching in my jeans, small and pathetic against my thigh, but throbbing with a heartbeat of its own. I’ve never seen anything like this, never seen her undone, never seen her animal like this. She’s lost to it, completely, her hips rolling in circles, chasing his tongue, her hands pulling at her own hair.
Then Jack stops.
He pulls back, his chin wet with her, glistening in the red light of the lava lamp, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks at her, then at me, and that smirk returns, cruel and teasing.
“But…” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. “I guess you have John now.”
He stands up. Katie whimpers, a sound of pure distress, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking his mouth, seeking the friction. She looks at him with those glazed, drunk eyes, her pupils blown wide, her lips swollen and parted. She wants him to finish. She wants him inside her, on her, consuming her. I can see it: the raw, naked need.
But Jack steps back, adjusting his pants, his massive cock straining against the fabric, a wet spot darkening the grey cotton at the tip. He looks at me, nodding toward the bed.
Katie turns her head. She looks at me. Her boyfriend, the virgin, the one who loves her. Her face is flushed, desperate, her chest heaving. She reaches out a hand toward me, her fingers trembling.
“John,” she says, her voice husky, broken. “Yeah. John. Make me cum. Please. I need it. I need to cum.”
I move toward the bed in a daze, crawling between her legs where Jack just was. The smell hits me: musky and sweet, intoxicating, the smell of her arousal concentrated and heavy. I’m inches from her pussy, that perfect pink virgin pussy that looks like something out of a fever dream, small and tidy and glistening.
“Lick it,” she commands softly, her hand finding my hair, guiding me. “Soft at first. Then harder. Like… like you mean it.”
I lean in. I’ve never done this before, only read about it, only imagined it in the dark with my hand wrapped around my small cock. I extend my tongue, tentative, and taste her. She’s salty and sweet, thick, the flavor coating my tongue. I lick upward, finding the small bump of her clit, and Katie gasps, her thighs clamping around my head.
“Yes,” she moans. “Like that. Just like that. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I find a rhythm. I’m clumsy, drunk, but eager, and she guides me with her hands in my hair, pressing me closer, lifting her hips to meet my mouth. I suck at her clit gently, experimentally, and she cries out, her body jerking.
“Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck, John. That’s good. That’s so good. You’re doing so good.”
Her praise makes me dizzy. I feel confident, powerful for the first time all night. I’m making her feel good. I’m the one making her moan now, my tongue circling her clit, my hands gripping her thick thighs, feeling the muscle and soft flesh under my palms. She’s getting wetter, her juices coating my chin, dripping down, and I lap them up, greedy, desperate to please her.
Her moans get louder, more rhythmic. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, her hips rolling against my face. “Right there. Stay right there. Don’t move. Don’t fucking move.”
I obey, holding my tongue steady against her clit, feeling it pulse under the pressure. She’s close, I can feel it in the tension of her thighs, the way her stomach muscles are contracting, the pitch of her voice rising higher and higher.
Then the moans stop.
Not gradually, but abruptly. The commands stop. The chanting stops. I think she’s holding her breath, lost in the edge of pleasure, suspended in that moment before orgasm. I keep licking, keep sucking, proud of myself, thinking I’m doing it, I’m making her cum—
But then I hear sounds. Wet sounds. Different wet sounds. Not the soft, lapping sounds of my tongue against her pussy, but something else. Something rhythmic. A slick, sliding sound, accompanied by a low, masculine groan.
I pull back slightly, confused, looking up past Katie’s heaving stomach, past her breasts—
And I see.
Jack is standing by the bed. His sweatpants are down around his thighs. His cock is out.
It’s massive. The word doesn’t do it justice. It’s huge, thick, veined, the head swollen and purple, glistening with precum. It’s easily twice the size of mine, thick as a wrist, long enough that Katie has to use both hands to hold it, her small fingers barely wrapping around the girth.
And she’s sucking it.
Her head is turned to the side, her mouth stretched wide around that huge cock, her eyes closed, her cheeks hollowed as she sucks him deep. She’s not just kissing it, not just licking, she’s actively blowing him, her head bobbing, her tongue working the underside of the shaft as Jack stands there, his hand in her hair, guiding her, his hips thrusting slightly to meet her mouth.
I freeze. Shock courses through me, cold and electric. I should stop. I should yell. I should punch him. But I’m frozen, paralyzed by the sight of her. My girlfriend, the girl I love, the virgin, taking that massive cock in her mouth with such enthusiasm, such hunger, her body still spread open for me, her pussy still wet and waiting, but her mouth occupied, filled, stretched around Jack.
“Keep going, John,” She says, her voice strained, not looking at me and rapidly going back to blow him.
Katie moans around his cock, the vibration must feel incredible, her eyes fluttering open for a second, looking at me, looking down at me between her legs, and there’s no apology there. She wants my tongue on her clit and his cock in her throat.
I should leave. I should run. But I don’t. I lean back in, my face burning with humiliation and arousal, and I lick her again. I taste her, lapping at her clit, while inches above me, she’s sucking him. I can feel the rhythm of her bobbing head in the way her thighs tense and relax. I can hear the wet, obscene sounds of her mouth on his cock: the slurping, the gagging when he pushes too deep, the gasps when she pulls back for air.
“Good girl,” Jack groans, his hand tightening in her hair. “Take it deeper. You can do it. You’ve done it before.”
She tries. She relaxes her jaw, takes him deeper, and I see her throat bulge, see her eyes water, tears streaming down her face onto the pillow, but she keeps him there, humming, vibrating around his length.
I’m licking her frantically now, desperate, competing with him, trying to make her feel me, make her acknowledge me. My tongue is sore, my jaw aching, but I don’t stop. I suck her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue, and she jerks, her hips spasming, but she doesn’t cum. She’s waiting. She’s waiting for him.
Then Jack roars.
It’s not a moan, not a groan, a roar. Animal, guttural, loud enough to shake the windows. His body goes rigid, his hips thrusting forward, burying his cock deep in Katie’s throat, and I look up in time to see his balls tighten, his asshole clench, and then—
He cums.
It’s violent, pulsing. I can see her throat working, swallowing, struggling to keep up with the volume. He pulls back slightly, shooting more onto her tongue, and she opens her mouth, showing him, showing me: the white, thick ropes of cum coating her tongue, filling her mouth, before she closes her lips and swallows, her throat bobbing, her eyes watering, her face a mess of tears and spit and semen.
“Fuck,” Jack breathes, his chest heaving, his massive cock still twitching, still hard, glistening with her saliva and his cum. “Fuck, Katie. Good girl. Swallow it all. Every drop.”
She does. She swallows, her throat working, then licks her lips, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop on her chin. She lays her head back on the pillow, her chest heaving, her mouth open, breathing hard, her face flushed and wrecked and beautiful.
Jack looks down at her, his hand stroking her hair gently now, possessively. “Did you cum?” he asks, his voice soft.
Katie shakes her head, her eyes closed, her voice barely a whisper, broken between breaths. “No,” she says. “It’s… it’s okay, babe.” Looking sweetly at me.
Jack frowns, his face serious. “Then we need to take care of that,” he says.
He kneels back down between her legs, where I was, where I am, and pushes me aside gently but firmly with his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of it”
I move. I crawl up onto the bed, dazed, my chin wet with her juices, my cock hard and small and untouched in my pants. Katie turns her head to look at me, her eyes glazed, her lips swollen and wet with Jack’s cum.
“Lay with me,” she whispers, her hand reaching for me. “Please. Lay by my side.”
I do. I stretch out next to her on the pillow, my body trembling. She looks at me, her eyes softening slightly, then says, “Help me. Undress me. Take my bra off. I can’t… I can’t reach.”
I fumble with her dress, my fingers clumsy, drunk, useless. I find the zipper at the side, pull it down, and help her wiggle out of the black fabric until she’s just in her stockings and bra: the white one she wore underneath, simple, virginal.
“The bra,” she commands, her voice breathy. “Take it off.”
I reach behind her, my hands shaking, and unhook it. The straps fall away, and her small breasts are free: pale, perfect, with pink nipples hard and pointing up. She’s so beautiful it hurts. She kisses me then, her mouth tasting like Jack’s cum: salty, bitter, musky. And I kiss her back, desperate, hungry, tasting him on her tongue.
She breaks the kiss and looks down at my chest. “Undress,” she says. “All of it. I want to feel you.”
I pull my shirt off over my head, then stand up to unbuckle my belt. I push my jeans down, then my boxers, and I’m naked, completely exposed, my small cock standing up hard and pink, four and a half inches at most, thin, looking pathetic and boyish compared to the monster that just filled her mouth.
She doesn’t look at it. She looks at my face, or she closes her eyes, or she looks past me, I can’t tell. But she doesn’t look at my dick. It’s like she’s avoiding it, or like it’s so small it’s not worth acknowledging.
Jack is between her legs again, his face buried in her pussy, his tongue working. She moans, her head falling back, her hand finding mine and squeezing hard. “Touch yourself.” She demands.
I wrap my hand around my small cock, my thumb and fingers easily encircling it, and I stroke slowly, watching Jack eat her out, watching his big hands grip her thighs, watching his tongue slide through her perfect pink folds.
She’s getting close. Her hips are bucking against Jack’s face, her free hand in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding against his tongue. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, right there. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”
She turns her head, looks at me, her eyes locking on mine. “Kiss me,” she commands. “Kiss me while I cum.”
I lean in, my hand still moving on my cock, and I kiss her. Our mouths fuse together, tongues sliding, and she moans into my mouth as she comes: her body convulsing, her thighs clamping around Jack’s head, her back arching off the bed, her hand crushing mine. She’s shaking, trembling, crying out into my mouth as the orgasm rips through her, long and hard and devastating.
I feel it all. I taste her pleasure. I feel her body shuddering beside mine. And I keep kissing her, keep stroking my small cock, lost in the moment, lost in her, lost in the wet, messy, humiliating perfection of it all.