Continued on

From that moment, the game was on, This kid I used to bully in high school, that preposterous, the weasel Sarah’s parents had always wanted her to wind up with, little nerd with his glasses fogged up would openly fuck Sarah in front of me.

Some days, when I was lucky, she’d finish with Wiley—some clumsy, giggling rendezvous in our laundry room or in our bedroom—and then come straight to me, still flushed and buzzing. We’d fuck like animals, and she’d cling to my back or my waist as if she needed to anchor herself to the planet. My hands digging into her hips as she moaned my name. She’d arch into me, biting her lip, sometimes leaving it bloody for hours.

But there were other days, days when she’d disappear into Wiley’s orbit inside the guest bedroom and he would wear her out so much that she would not escape until the morning, and she did her hair mussed, face still painted with the afterglow of whatever ritualistic pleasure they’d conjured between them, as she was wearing one her his shirts. Our conversation those morning where always the same, I’d say “How’s Wiley” As she fixes his shirt on her.

And she’d say, “Still asleep, I think you broke him. He came three times, but fuck am I going to have trouble walking straight at work today.” And we would both break out in an awkward laughter.

On those time she made sure to fuck me before Wiley’s next time, although the sex wasn’t as good as it was when we did it right after Wiley finished dumping his load inside of her.

The best sex, by far, was always after betrayal. Not the cheerful, open arrangement—Sarah draped over me, Wiley sheepishly avoiding eye contact, some warm but impersonal share-and-share-alike that we convinced ourselves was healthy—but the clandestine kind. The kind where I would come home from a shift, sweaty and half-starved on caffeine and fast food, and find the two of them sitting at the kitchen table, quietly eating from the same bowl of microwaved leftovers, Sarah’s hair still damp with the sweat that wasn’t mine, legs trembling under the table.

Wiley would be faking interest in the crossword to avoid looking at me as if he knew he did something wrong. Sarah sat across from him, and there was this weird electricity in the air, the kind of static you get after a thunderstorm has sucked up all the oxygen in a room. Just from the look of them, I could guess what happened, but when I heard Wiley called her Sarah—never Sara-bear, her old nickname, I had 100 percent confirmation that He’d just been inside her.

Knowing that she fucked him behind my back made her resistible to me, So, with in second of hearing in say Sarah I would walk right pass him and grab Sarah’s hand before pulling her to our bedroom.

Fuck was that sex always amazing, she would leave nail marks on my back that would last for days. She would scream my name in pleasure so loud that the people upstairs had to be able to hear her.

Wiley, of course, was mortified. The first two or three times of this he tried to tiptoe out like a burglar because and I quote, he wasn’t like me and wasn’t interested and listening to me fuck her.

But then Sarah told him, in front of me, as I was pulling her into the bedroom, “You probably should stick around, Wiley. If he messes this up, I am going to need you to finish me off.”

However after Sarah told him that there was a chance that I would ruin it again, and that he would be need to finish her if I did, he tend to stay after that. The first time I notice him staying, I was feeling extra frisky. So right as we both where about to cum, I gave her a provocative smile.

She most have instantly known what I was thinking because she whimpered “please don’t.”

I grinned from ear to ear as I moan “But sara-bear… Tomorrow will be amazing.”

She glared at me, her mouth twisted in a snarl as she pushes me off of her, before either of us came. “You’re such an asshole,” she spat, but I could see the gleam in her eyes, the way her whole body tensed with need.

As she got to the door I say, “Have fun with the smelly perverted pig!” loud enough for the hallway to hear.

She staired back “tomorrow better be worth it.”

“oh it will be…”