Chapter 10: The Unexpected Guest
The door to Lucy's apartment was already cracked open when I reached it. I'd been held up by a late lab session, my phone buzzing with Lucy's texts asking where I was. The answer to that question faded from my mind the second I stepped inside.
Vanilla hit me first, heavy and sweet. Then I heard it. Muffled moans from the bedroom, a wet rhythmic slap that I knew too well. My stomach dropped. I'd expected another Saturday session. I hadn't expected to be late to it.
Lucy stood by the kitchen counter in a black silk camisole and dark jeans, a glass of wine in her hand. She smiled when she saw me, that knowing curve of her lips that made my skin crawl.
"Glad you could make it, Caleb. You're missing the good parts."
I didn't answer. I walked toward the bedroom because that's what I always did. Because I'd agreed to this, and I kept agreeing to it, and I didn't know how to stop.
The door was open. Kaleb stood at the foot of the bed, gripping Emily's hips from behind. His dark skin gleamed with sweat, his silver chain swinging as he drove himself into her. Emily was on he back, her blonde hair wild around her face, her pale ass pushed up to meet every thrust. She cried out as he bottomed out, her fingers twisting in the sheets.
But that wasn't what made me stop dead.
There was another man on the bed. Lean, brown-haired, olive-skinned, young. He knelt over Emily's chest, his knees bracketing her ribs, and his thick cock was in her mouth. Her lips stretched wide around him, her throat working as he fed himself deeper. He was guiding her head with one hand, murmuring something in Spanish while she sucked him.
My breath caught. Emily's eyes were closed, and tears of strain leaked from the corners, but her cheeks were hollowed and she took him to the root without gagging. The man tilted his head back and let out a low groan.
"He's pretty good at that," Lucy said from behind me.
I turned. She'd followed me, leaning against the doorframe with her wine glass held loosely at her hip.
"That's Miguel. My cousin. Visiting from Texas for the week."
I stared at her. "You didn't tell me there would be someone else."
Lucy shrugged, unbothered. "Spontaneity is part of the lesson, isn't it? Real life doesn't come with a schedule. And Emily's been doing so well, I thought she deserved a reward." She took a sip of wine. "Two cocks at once. That's a real achievement for a girl who'd never seen a naked man before this semester."
Behind her, the bed creaked. I looked past her, and my body betrayed me. My cock thickened against my jeans, hot and hard and shameful. I couldn't stop it. I never could.
Kaleb's hips pounded faster. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, wet and obscene, and Emily moaned around Miguel's shaft. She was coming. I could tell from the way her thighs trembled, the way her back arched. She pulled off Miguel's cock with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glans.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she chanted, her voice wrecked.
Kaleb reached her, his fingers finding her clit, and she screamed. Her whole body convulsed, and she bucked against him as the orgasm tore through her. Miguel grabbed her hair, guiding her mouth back to his cock, and she took him again, still crying as she rode out her climax.
I stood there in the doorway, my hands useless at my sides. My cock ached, straining against my zipper, and I could already feel the wetness gathering at the tip.
"She's had three already," Lucy said, conversational, like she was discussing the weather. "Kaleb gets her off, and Miguel fills her mouth. It's a nice system, isn't it?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Miguel was close now. His hips stuttered, his breath coming in harsh pants, and he pulled her head deeper onto his cock with a groan that sounded almost pained. Emily looked up at him through tear-bright eyes, her hands gripping his thighs, and she took him all the way down her throat.
"Damn," he breathed. "Just like that, baby. Just like that."
Kaleb slowed his rhythm, watching them. He was smiling, that easy confident smile I'd come to hate. He pulled out of Emily with a wet sound, and she whimpered at the loss. But Miguel was already stroking himself, jerking his thick shaft above her face.
"Open your mouth. Open wide."
Emily obeyed. She tilted her head back, her tongue extended, her lips parted. And Miguel came. Hot white ropes splashed across her face, painting her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. Some of it hit his own hand, and he wiped it onto her lips. She licked, swallowing what she could, and what dripped down her chin she didn't bother to catch.
"Fuck," Miguel groaned. "That's so fucking good."
Emily smiled up at him, cum dripping from her flushed face, and something inside me cracked a little further.
And then I felt it. The hot pulse in my jeans. The wet spreading against my thigh. I'd come in my pants, untouched, just from watching. Just from the sight of another man painting my fiancée's face.
I stared down at the dark stain spreading across my khakis, mortified and aching, and I couldn't even bring myself to move.
The chair was behind me. I reached for it blindly and sank into it, my legs weak, my heart hammering. The fabric of my pants clung to my softening cock, wet and shameful.
Lucy looked at me from the doorway, and her smile widened. "See something you like, Caleb?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Emily turned her head at the sound of Lucy's voice, and her cum-streaked face found me. Her eyes went wide. She scrambled to her knees, pulling a sheet to her chest.
"Caleb. I didn't. You're here."
Her voice was small, guilty. The cum on her face was still wet, and some of it dripped onto the sheet.
I swallowed. "I was late."
"Yeah," she breathed. "Lucy said you were on your way. She said you wanted to watch."
I looked at Lucy. She met my gaze without flinching, sipping her wine, and I understood that Emily hadn't asked for this to be a surprise. Lucy had arranged it. Lucy had set the stage, and my fiancée had simply performed the role she'd been given.
"I couldn’t get out of class earlier," I managed.
"Every Saturday," Lucy said lightly. "You know that.”
"But I texted you. I told you about the lab."
Lucy shrugged. "Emily didn't want to wait. And Miguel's only in town for the week." She gestured at the bed with her glass. "It would have been a shame to waste him."
Emily slid off the bed, still clutching the sheet, and padded toward me. Miguel and Kaleb watched from the mattress, spent and unconcerned. Emily knelt in front of my chair, her eyes searching mine.
"Do you hate me?" she asked.
The question landed harder than any blow. I looked at her, at the seed of a stranger dripping from her cheeks, and I couldn't say yes. I couldn't say no.
"I thought you were practicing," I said. "For us."
She nodded, catching at a drip on her chin. "It's still practice. I need all the practice I can get. Lucy says it's better to learn everything now so our wedding night is perfect."
"With two men?"
Emily hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Lucy, then back to me. "Lucy says real marriage is unpredictable. You never know what you'll need to be ready for."
Kaleb laughed from the bed, a low warm sound that made my jaw tighten. "She's a quick learner, man. You should be proud."
Proud. The word curdled in my stomach. I looked down at my own wet pants, at the evidence of my own twisted arousal, and I didn't know what I felt anymore. Pride had nothing to do with it.
"I came in my pants," I said. The words came out flat, hollow. "I didn't even touch myself. I just watched, and I came."
Silence. Emily stared at the dark stain on my khakis. Lucy made a soft humming sound, almost pleased.
"See?" she said. "There's nothing wrong with your desires, Caleb. Your body knows what it wants, even when your mind isn't ready to accept it." She set her wine glass down and stepped closer, looking down at me. "That's just another reason why this practice is so important. For both of you."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to stand up and walk out and never come back. But my pants were wet on my thigh, and my heart was pounding, and Emily was looking at me with that mix of hope and fear that always undid me.
She reached out and placed her hand on my knee.
"You're still coming with me to the wedding venue on Thursday, right?" she asked. "We're supposed to pick the table linens."
The table linens. As if she hadn't just had another man's cum drying on her face. As if this were normal.
I looked at her. The seed had crusted on her cheek, catching the light. She was so beautiful. She was so broken.
"Yes," I heard myself say. "I'm still coming."
Emily smiled, and some of the tension left her shoulders. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, soft and chaste, and I could smell Miguel on her skin. Something musky and foreign that didn't belong to her. That would never be mine.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I love you."
I loved her too. I still loved her. That was the worst part.
Lucy was watching me with those sharp dark eyes, and I realized she was already planning the next step. There was always a next step. Every time I gave an inch, she took a mile, and Emily came along with her, wide-eyed and trusting.
I looked at Kaleb, sprawled naked on the bed, and at Miguel, who was pulling on his boxers like this was any other afternoon. And I thought about the wedding. About the white dress and the church and the vows we'd make before God.
None of it would be true. None of it could be true after this.
But I'd hold my tongue. I always did.
"Same time next week?" I asked, and the words came out steady.
Lucy smiled. "Same time next week, Caleb. Unless we decide to add another lesson before then."
My stomach turned. But I nodded, because nodding was easier than fighting, and I'd lost the strength to fight somewhere around the second Saturday.
I stood up. The damp patch on my pants was cold now, clinging to my skin. Emily watched me, still clutching the sheet to her chest, and her eyes held a flicker of something I didn't want to name. Grief. Loss. Or maybe it was just the reflection of my own.
"I'll be there," I said. And I meant it.
I walked out of the bedroom, past Lucy's knowing smile, and into the vanilla-scented air of the living room. The door was where I'd left it, cracked open, waiting for me to walk through it.
I walked through it, and I didn't look back.