Chapter 30: The Taste of Deception
The walk back to Cody’s dorm was a blur of cold air and fluorescent hallway lights. Each step squelched faintly in Emily’s boots, a visceral reminder of the pool of warmth and wetness trapped against her skin. Ryan’s cum had seeped into her skirt, cooling into a sticky film on her inner thighs.She’d pulled her coat tight, but the dampness felt like a brand. Or a trophy.She pushed Cody’s door open without knocking. The familiar scent of laundry left too long in the basket and instant noodles hit her, a stark, mundane contrast to the neon-lit adrenaline of the common room. He was at his desk, headphones on, watching a highlights reel of some game, his broad back tense with concentration.
“Hey,” she said, her voice rough from panting, from screaming.
He spun, his face breaking into a smile that faltered as he took her in. The choker with its stupid little bell, the messy hair, the skirt that was visibly rumpled and dark in the center.“Whoa. Session get rowdy?” he asked, a cautious joke in his tone.
“Something like that.” She shrugged off her coat, let it fall to the floor. She kept her eyes on his as she walked to the bed, the mattress sinking with a familiar groan under her weight. She lay back, staring at the peeling spaceship poster on his ceiling. The phantom sensation of Ryan’s hands on her hips, Sarah’s gaze like a physical touch, the roar of the chat scrolling behind her eyelids—it all coalesced into a single, desperate need.
“Cody.”
“Yeah?” He was still in his chair, watching her, a faint line of concern between his brows.“I need you to fuck me. Right now.”
He didn’t need telling twice. The chair wheeled back, his headphones clattering on the desk. He was on her in moments, his knees sinking into the mattress beside her hips, his hands eager but uncertain, hovering over the stains on her skirt. “You’re sure you’re—“
“I’m sure.” She reached down, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and yanked it up to her waist.The chilled air hit her exposed pussy, making her jerk. The evidence was stark in the dim desk lamp light: the glistening mess, the swollen lips, the slickness coating her inner thighs.“See? I’m ready.”
Cody’s breath caught.A feral, possessive look she knew well flashed in his eyes, drowning the concern. He fumbled with his sweatpants, his cock springing free, already thick and hard. He leaned over her, one hand braced by her head, the other guiding himself. The head of his cock nudged through the slickness, parting her folds with an obscene, wet sound.
He slid in. Not with the desperate, conquering thrust of Ryan, but with a smoother, fuller penetration, aided by the copious, leftover lubrication.The feeling was profoundly different. Where Ryan had been a furious, urgent stretch, Cody was a deep, complete filling.A familiar ache. His cock pushed against walls that were tender, sensitive, and thoroughly used. A fresh trickle of warm fluid—Ryan’s—seeped out around Cody’s shaft as he buried himself to the hilt.“God, Em,” he muttered, his face buried in her neck. His hips pressed flush against hers.“You’re so wet. You’re fucking soaked.” He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that made the bedframe squeak in protest. Each thrust squeezed more of the foreign cum out, it dripped from her onto his sheets with a soft, shameful pattering sound.
Emily wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back.She threw her head back, a moan ripped from her throat. It was good.It was so good, but her mind was a split screen. She felt Cody’s weight, his familiar smell of soap and deodorant, the careful way his thumb brushed her cheek. And she saw Sarah’s sharp, knowing smile, heard Ryan’s guttural groan in her ear, felt the electric thrill of performing for the anonymous, hungry eyes of the chat.
“Did you…” Cody grunted, pausing his thrusts to look down at her, his face flushed. “Did you play with yourself before coming over?”
The lie was there, practiced and perfect. She met his gaze, her eyes wide and guileless.“Yeah. I used that big toy you got me. The thick one.” She clenched around him, pulsing deliberately, and watched his eyes roll back.“It stretched me out so good. I was thinking about you using me after.”
The confession, half-true, ignited him.His pace quickened, became harder, less controlled. “Fuck, yes.That’s my girl. Taking that toy, getting all loose and ready for me.”
“Just for you,” she whispered, the words tasting like ash and honey. She arched her back, offering herself up, and let the fantasy consume her. It wasn’t Cody pounding into her now; it was the spectacle.It was the donation counter climbing. It was Sarah’s approval.It was the power of being so utterly, completely wanted in her filthiness.
The coil in her belly, never fully unwound from her first orgasm, pulled taut again with shocking speed. “Cody, I’m gonna…”
“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice rough.She did. It crashed over her not as a shattering wave but as a deep, convulsive flooding, a silent, internal rupture that locked her muscles and stole her breath. Her cunt clenched and fluttered around his driving cock, a series of tight, rhythmic pulses. She didn’t scream his name. A raw, wordless sound tore from her throat, her nails raking down his sweat-slicked back, leaving red trails in the dim light.
Her climax triggered his.With a choked-off curse, he drove deep and held, his body shuddering. She felt the hot, distinct pulse of his own release, painting over the remnants of Ryan’s inside her.He collapsed on top of her, his weight a comfort and a cage.
They lay in the damp silence, the only sound their ragged breathing mixing with the distant hum of the dorm. The smell of sex—musk, sweat, and the tang of spilled semen—rose heavy around them. Emily stared at the ceiling, feeling the slow, thick trickle of their combined fluids seep out of her and onto the already ruined sheets.Cody nuzzled her neck. “That was incredible,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. “You’re incredible.”
Her phone, buried somewhere in her discarded coat, buzzed once on the floor.Then again.And again.
A text cascade.She knew without looking.It was Sarah.
Cody shifted, beginning to pull out. “You should get that.”
Cody’s weight lifted off her, the cool air hitting the wet mess he left between her legs. Emily didn’t move. She watched the shadows from the desk lamp quiver on the ceiling. His cum, Ryan’s cum—it was all a warm, slowly escaping slurry inside her. Her phone buzzed again, a persistent insectile hum from the floor.
“It’s probably Sarah,” she said, her voice detached. “Wondering if I got home.” It was a flimsy lie. Cody, padding toward his tiny attached sink, grunted in acknowledgment. He began splashing water on his face. The normalcy of the act felt absurd. She swung her legs off the bed, the thick wetness immediately coating her inner thighs anew. She retrieved her phone. The screen glowed.
Sarah: so?
Sarah: did the bf appreciate the prep work?
Sarah: my place. now. i need the debrief.
Emily stood, the sequined skirt falling back down over the dampness. She felt the fabric cling unpleasantly. “She’s freaking out about the campaign. Needs to plot.” Emily found her panties, a soaked scrap of black lace, and stuffed them into her coat pocket. She slid her boots back on. Cody, towel-drying his neck, looked at her with soft, satiated eyes. “Now? It’s late.”
“You know how she gets.” Emily walked over, kissed his cheek, tasting his sweat. “Strategic genius waits for no one.” She pulled her coat on, hiding the stained skirt, the choker. “Don’t wait up.” The hallway was a sterile, empty tunnel. Her footsteps echoed. Each stride made her aware of the slow seep, a shameful reminder that traveled with her. The night air outside was a slap. She climbed into her car, the cold vinyl seat a shock through her thin clothes. The drive to Sarah’s apartment was a blur of streetlights and the low thrum of the engine.
Sarah’s door was unlocked. Emily pushed it open. The apartment was dark, lit only by the enormous monitor still displaying the frozen aftermath of their livestreamed game—a dragon’s corpse, their characters standing triumphantly over it. Sarah was silhouetted against the blue glow, perched on the edge of her desk. She’d changed into just a large t-shirt. Her eyes gleamed in the dimness.
“Well?” Sarah’s voice was a low purr.
Emily closed the door. The lock clicked, a definitive sound. She didn’t speak. She walked into the center of the room, the monitor’s light painting her in ghostly hues. She kept her eyes locked on Sarah’s. With deliberate, slow movements, she unbuttoned her coat, shrugged it off, let it pool at her feet. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her sequined skirt and pushed it down her legs, stepping out of it. She stood there, in the cool air of the apartment, wearing only her boots, the bell choker, and the glistening, spent mess between her legs.
“Come here,” Emily said. It wasn’t a request.
Sarah slid off the desk. She approached, not with haste, but with a predatory curiosity. She stopped inches away, her gaze dropping. The smell was unmistakable here—sex, sweat, the pungent tang of two different men. Sarah’s nostrils flared. “Filthy,” she breathed, a smile playing on her lips.
“You have no idea.” Emily reached out, tangling her fingers in Sarah’s hair. It was softer than she expected. She didn’t guide her, not yet. She just held her there. “Cody fucked me. He thought I was just wet for him. He called me his girl.” Sarah’s eyes were wide, looking up at her. “He pushed right into all of it. Felt him sloshing around in Ryan’s load. He came so deep, Sarah. I could feel his fucking pulse inside me.”
A soft, hungry sound escaped Sarah’s throat. Her hands came to rest on Emily’s hips, her thumbs stroking the sharp bones.
“But before that,” Emily continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, tightening her grip in Sarah’s hair, “it was Ryan. On the floor. In front of everyone. His cock was so thick it fucking hurt at first. I rode him right there at the table.” She leaned closer. “I milked his big fat cock for the game, for the story. I could say it was for the chat but it was for me, because I'm a filthy slut. And then I went home and let my boyfriend clean it out with his own dick.”
She applied pressure, a firm, insistent downward guidance. Sarah didn’t resist. She sank to her knees on the hard floor, her eyes never leaving Emily’s. The monitor’s glow lit the side of her rapt face. Up close, the evidence was obscene. Emily spread her stance wider. “Taste it,” Emily commanded, her voice shaking now, not with shame, but with raw power. “Taste what a dirty slut I’ve become for you."
Sarah’s tongue, hot and startlingly soft, flicked out. Not a tentative probe, but a flat, deliberate lap from her perineum up through the slick, swollen folds. She groaned, the vibration rippling through Emily’s core. Sarah’s mouth opened wider, sealing over her entirely. The sensation was a lightning bolt of blunt, wet heat. Sarah ate her with a desperate, focused greed, her nose buried in the mix of fluids, her tongue digging, searching.
Emily’s head fell back. Her hands clenched in Sarah’s hair, holding her face right there. “That’s it,” she gasped. “Lick it all. Get his cum. Get Cody’s. It’s all for you.” Sarah’s response was a muffided, eager sound. She fucked Emily with her tongue, deep and slow, then shallow and fast, drinking her down. Emily could feel the tension coiling again, a tight, impossible spring in her belly. “I could feel the viewers watching,” Emily babbled, her hips starting to stutter forward into Sarah’s mouth. “I could feel you watching. It made me so fucking wet. I wanted you to see. I wanted you to know I was doing it for us.”
Sarah slid a hand up Emily’s thigh, her fingers slipping easily into the soaked, open heat. Two fingers crooked inside her, scraping gently, collecting the combined spend. She pumped them, her mouth still working relentlessly on Emily’s clit. The dual sensation—the rough plunge of fingers and the insistent, slippery suction—drove Emily to the edge. She was babbling now, pure filth, recounting every thrust, every groan from the livestream, every filthy compliment from the chat that had seared itself into her brain.
Sarah’s free hand was between her own legs, working under her t-shirt, her own breath coming in ragged hitches against Emily’s skin.
“I’m gonna come,” Emily warned, her voice a shattered thing. “I’m gonna come all over your face. Do it. Make me.”
Sarah doubled her efforts, her tongue a frantic, perfect pressure. The orgasm tore through Emily without ceremony. It was a brutal, full-body convulsion that locked her knees and tore a raw, guttural scream from her throat. She ground herself against Sarah’s mouth, riding the waves of frantic sensation, feeling Sarah’s own muted cry vibrate through her.
Emily slumped against the desk, spent, her legs trembling. Sarah rested her forehead against Emily’s thigh, breathing hard. She looked up, her chin glistening in the low light. A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face.