Chapter 2: The day before dinner
The girl emerged from Mark’s room, her ponytail slightly askew and a glazed, satisfied look in her eyes. Jenny’s gaze dropped to the girl’s cheek, where a faint, pearlescent smudge gleamed near her hairline. "See you around, Mark," the girl said, her voice a little hoarse, before slipping out the front door. Mark followed, leaning against the doorframe completely naked, his thick, semi-hard cock still glistening. "You two still just sitting there?"
Mark grinned, not bothering to cover himself. "Shit, my bad," he said, though his tone held no real apology. "Thought you guys had left."
His gaze lingered on Jenny, who couldn't look away from the thick, veiny shape of him. She imagined the other girl on her knees, that same cock plunging deep into her throat, Mark's hot come streaking her face. The image was shockingly vivid.
A flush of heat spread through Jenny's belly, a traitorous pulse quickening between her legs. John stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Put some fucking clothes on, man."
Mark just laughed, a low, easy sound. He gave his heavy cock a casual stroke, making it swell again. "Relax, Johnny. It's just a body."
Jenny watched, hypnotized, as a single drop of moisture beaded at the tip. Her own breath felt tight in her chest, her skin suddenly hypersensitive. She could almost taste the salt and musk in the air.
John took a step forward, his fists clenched. "I mean it."
"Fine, fine," Mark sighed, turning with infuriating slowness towards his room. He paused at the doorway, looking back directly at Jenny. "See you Friday, Jen."
Then he was gone, leaving a charged silence thicker than the previous noise. Jenny finally exhaled, her heart hammering against her ribs. She felt a distinct, shameful wetness soaking through her panties.
The slick dampness in her lace panties felt like a secret she was wearing for him. John remained rigid by the window, his back to her, a statue of quiet fury. "I need to go," Jenny whispered, grabbing her bag and fleeing the condo without another word. The image of Mark, naked and unashamed, burned behind her eyelids all the way home. She spent the next two days trying to forget the thick, veined shape of him and the way her own body had betrayed her.
The dinner night arrived, cloaking the condo in a tense, perfumed silence. Jenny wore the black dress as instructed, its fabric whispering against her bare skin with every step. Her entire back was exposed, the delicate bones of her spine a faint trail in the low light, and the chill air made her nipples harden against the silk. Beneath it, she wore only the tiniest pair of lace panties, a fragile barrier. John had retreated into his bedroom an hour before, the door firmly shut, abandoning her to the performance.
Mark’s parents were a nice, unassuming couple who filled the small space with gentle chatter. "You must be Jenny," Mark's mother said, her smile warm. "Mark has told us so much about you."
"He has, has he?" Jenny replied, forcing a light laugh as Mark’s hand found the small of her bare back. His palm was warm and possessive, a brand on her skin that sent a jolt straight to her core. She didn't flinch.
Throughout the meal, his touches were constant and deliberate. His fingers traced idle patterns on her shoulder. His knee pressed against hers beneath the table, a solid, insistent pressure. Jenny laughed at his jokes and leaned into his casual embraces, playing her part with a convincing ease that surprised her. When he leaned in to kiss her cheek, his lips lingered a second too long, his breath hot against her ear.
"See?" he murmured, too low for his parents to hear. "You're a natural at this."
His hand slid from her shoulder down her arm, his fingers lacing with hers on the tablecloth. It was an intimate, couple-like gesture that felt more invasive than anything before. Jenny’s heart hammered, a frantic bird against her ribs, but she kept her smile perfectly placid. She squeezed his hand back, her own fingers trembling slightly in his firm grasp.
The dinner plates were cleared, the wine glasses empty, and the pleasant fiction began to fray at the edges. "The roads are just terrible now," Mark's mother sighed, peering out the window at the pouring rain. "I don't think we should drive all the way back to the hotel."
Mark's smile was instantaneous, a practiced mask of gracious concern. "Don't be ridiculous, you'll take my room." He turned his gaze to Jenny, the command in his eyes unmistakable. "Jenny and I will be fine out here on the couch. It pulls out, right babe?"
The word "babe" hung in the air, a sticky, possessive term he’d never used before. Jenny’s heart stuttered. "Right," she whispered, the lie tasting like ash.
John had vanished into his room after a terse "goodnight," his retreat a silent condemnation. Now, as Mark’s parents settled into his bedroom, the condo felt like a trap. The couch, once just a piece of worn furniture, now seemed to dominate the living room, a wide, expectant stage.
Mark tossed a pillow and a thin blanket onto the far end. "You take that side."
The lights went out, plunging them into a darkness broken only by the faint orange glow of streetlights filtering through the blinds. Jenny lay rigid on her side, the scratchy fabric of the couch cover abrasive against her cheek. She could hear every shift of his body, every rustle of the blanket.
Minutes stretched into an hour, a silent, tense standoff in the dark. Then the couch cushions dipped. She felt the heat of him before his hand actually touched her, a solid weight landing on her hip.
"Jenny," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in the silence.
She didn't move, didn't breathe. His fingers slid from her hip, tracing a slow, deliberate path up the curve of her waist. The black dress had ridden up, and his touch was now on bare skin, igniting a trail of fire.
"You're not asleep," he stated, his breath hot against the back of her neck. His other hand came up, his fingers tangling in her hair and pulling just enough to tilt her head back. "I saw how you looked at me the other day."
"I didn't," she said
“I didn’t,” she said, her voice a thin, fragile thing in the dark.
His laugh was a low, dismissive puff of air against her neck. “Bullshit. You were staring at my cock like you wanted to taste it.” His hand slid from her waist down to the hem of her dress, his fingers brushing the top of her thigh. “I am so horny and hard now.”
Jenny flinched, her body tensing. “I am so sorry for you, but I can’t help you.” She tried to laugh, to make it a joke, to defuse the tension coiling in her gut. “I bet you’d like that girl from the other day to be here to help it.”
“Yes,” Mark agreed, his voice dropping to a rough, intimate whisper. “But Jenny, you can help me too.” His fingers crept higher, tracing the edge of her lace panties. She felt the heat of his palm through the fabric.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her resolve crumbling as a shiver ran through her. “I’m your best friend’s girlfriend, and I… I don’t like to give blowjobs.”
“It doesn’t matter that,” he said, his mouth now against her ear, his breath hot. “It’s about if you’d like it.” He pressed his erection against her backside, a solid, demanding pressure. “You heard how loud that girl moaned while she sucked my cock.” His hand moved, his fingers slipping inside her panties, finding her wet and already swollen. “You’re already so fucking wet for me, Jenny.”
He removed his hand from her panties, the sudden absence of his touch leaving a cold ache on her skin. She shuddered as he stood up on his feet, his silhouette blocking the streetlight’s glow. With a rough, deliberate motion, he pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing a big, hard cock, nicely shaved, with a bulbous head and thick veins winding down the shaft, above a pair of heavy, full balls.
“Come here,” he demanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated in the dark room. “Kneel in front of me and play with my cock.” Jenny’s breath hitched, every instinct telling her to run, but a hotter, deeper urge pulled her from the couch. She obeyed, her legs trembling as she sunk to her knees on the rough carpet, the position feeling both foreign and terrifyingly natural.
The musky scent of him, clean sweat and raw sex, filled her nostrils as she faced his erection. “Touch it,” he commanded, and she reached out a hesitant hand, her fingers brushing against the hot, smooth skin. It twitched at her touch, a drop of precum beading at the tip like a promise. “Use your whole hand, get a feel for it,” he grunted, and she wrapped her fingers around the thick base, surprised by its weight and the pulsing heat.
“It’s so big,” she whispered, more to herself than to him, her thumb tracing a prominent vein. He let out a sharp laugh. “You have no idea what this thing can do.” He guided her head closer with a hand in her hair. “Now open your mouth, I want to feel that tongue.” The command broke her trance, and for a second she resisted, but the memory of the other girl’s eager moans pushed her forward. She parted her lips, the tip of his cock brushing them, and a shudder of pure, electric anticipation wracked her body.
The first touch of his skin against her tongue was salt and musk, a shocking intimacy that made her stomach clench. She took him deeper, her mouth stretching around his girth, her own wetness soaking through the lace between her legs. She worked him with a growing, frantic rhythm, one hand stroking his shaft while the other cupped his heavy balls, determined to prove her worth.
“You’re trying so hard, aren’t you?” Mark grunted, his fingers tightening in her hair. “But you’re just not good at this. Other girls know how to really suck a cock, to make a man lose his mind. You won’t make me cum.” His criticism lit a fire in her, a desperate need to conquer him with her mouth. She redoubled her efforts, taking him deeper into her throat until her eyes watered, her world narrowing to the taste of him and the wet, filthy sounds filling the quiet room.
A low, guttural moan escaped her as she felt her own orgasm ripple through her, her panties drenched from the sheer degradation of the act. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained and rough. “Where do you want it?” She pulled her mouth away, gasping, “Wherever you want.” He gripped her chin, his eyes boring into hers. “I asked you where.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, “On my face. Please, Mark, cum on my face.”
“Prove it,” he demanded, his cock pulsing in his hand. “Beg for it.” “Please,” she whimpered, tilting her head back and opening her mouth, sticking out her tongue in a lewd offering. “Cover my face, I want to taste it all.” A hot, thick rope splashed across her tongue, followed by another, painting her cheeks and eyelids with his release. He groaned, emptying himself onto her waiting face until it was dripping and glazed in the dim light.
The thick, salty warmth of his release dripped from her chin onto the carpet, and a shudder of pure, degrading pleasure wracked her body. She felt so hot and dirty, horny and she wanted it more, the shame only fueling a desperate, aching need deep inside her. Mark pulled his soft cock from her mouth with a wet pop, looking down at her glistening face with a satisfied smirk. "Now clean that up," he ordered, his voice rough as he turned and walked towards the balcony, sliding the glass door open. The night air rushed in, cool against her heated skin as he stepped outside and lit a cigarette, the ember glowing in the darkness. "Then get undressed, completely naked, and come out here," he commanded, blowing a stream of smoke into the humid night. Jenny’s hands trembled as she wiped the sticky fluid from her eyes and cheeks with the back of her arm, her breath coming in ragged pants. She stood on unsteady legs, peeling the black dress over her head and letting it pool on the floor beside her soaked panties. The air kissed her bare skin, her small, perky breasts tightening, nipples hard and sensitive as she stood fully exposed. Every nerve ending felt alive, humming with anticipation and a filthy hunger that eclipsed all thought. She stepped through the balcony door, completely naked, the concrete cool beneath her feet. Mark turned, his eyes raking over her body from her pink nipples down to her neatly shaved pussy. "Come here," he said, his voice a low growl as he took a final drag and flicked the cigarette over the railing. He grabbed her hip, pulling her against his already hardening cock, his mouth crushing down on hers in a possessive, bruising kiss. His hands roamed her bare ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh as he grinded against her. "You’re a filthy little slut, aren’t you?" he breathed into her mouth, his fingers tracing the wet seam between her legs. "Yes," she gasped.