A plan is set...

A plan is set...one you had no control over...

“What,” you said trembling. “I don’t want that!” You told her. Did you? You couldn't tell. Your heart raced and your cock was hard.

Morgan sucked down the last of her drink and laughed. “Sounds like you do.” She then ordered a shot for herself again. “I don't know,” she said, “a lots gone on in the last few years. Things are different between us, and its not just your fault with me in school and working full time.” She went on and on and laid out emotional baggage. She complained about her “crazy” father and mother-in-law. She admitted being scared getting married. She was worried about not wanting to be a front desk person at a hotel her whole life. She was stressed that she was going on her 3rd year of graduate school and would need another, when she should only have had to go for two years. She sighed stated she felt her friends had it all figured out.

“Don't get me wrong,” she said rubbing your arm lovingly. “I want to get married...I think....but before I do...I want to live.” She pointed to you. “Like that girl in your story.” She went on to say how good she was in high-school, and in college. Sure, she had some hook-ups, a one night stand here and there, but the two of you had settle long ago. “We're not kids anymore, and I feel like I never got to go wild. With my family shit, working like three jobs always, and never getting a chance to just let go, you know.” She looked at you for validation.

All you could say was. “I get it.”

She then gave you a stern look. “Admit it, our sex life sucks.” She craned her head to gauge your response, which was simply a nod. “Maybe this is what we need before we get married. A story.” She laughed. “A story.” She said again giggling. She ordered another drink. “You guys always tell those stories about Bill banging this girl and that girl in high-school, and all those crazy stories. Maybe I just need to be a story...have my own....like you write.”

For some reason, you defended your high-school self. “I had my stories.”

Morgan chuckled. “Seriously dude,” she gave you a disbelieving look. I don't recall one with you in them. Did you even get laid in high-school.” She sounded just like the Morgan you wrote in your stories and it made your cock tingle. She rubbed your arm. “I'm kidding.” She kept rubbing your arm. “Maybe we all need this. You'll live that fantasy for a bit. I'll be a sexy little story, and Bill...” she looked at her drink. “Maybe he'll leave me alone after this.”

There was an awkward silence, but you broke it. “How would...how would it work.” You waited for her response. Her shoulders went up, signifying she was unsure.

“I don't know. It wouldn't last long. Just like a weekend or so.” She was downing her drinks now.

You truly weren't sure this is what you wanted. “I don't know. I feel like this might kill our relationship.”

Morgan shook her head. “It's already dying dude. We rarely have sex.” She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry dude,” she looked at you. “I think we go to do this.”

That was it, she was committed to the idea. Your mind was racing and you were in a daze as she spoke about what plans she had. She stated it would only be a weekend, but that you'd have to let whatever happened happen. No complaining, no bitching, no moaning, just let it play out. If you didn't it wouldn't happen and things would get even worse. If you did as told, then she promised everyone would enjoy the weekend.

You found yourself drinking wine, and just listening to her prattle on about plans and ideas at her place. No one you all knew could know. Which made sense, and honestly, wouldn’t be hard as most of your college friends were gone, your families were retired and pretty far away, and you didn't share too many mutual friends. Morgan lived one hour north of the city over the bridge, and Bill was an hour and half south of the city in the town you grew up in. So you'd have to come to the city, as it was less likely you'd run into people you knew. You had an apartment in the city. The both of you had pretty much started living there exclusively anyways, since both of you were in grad school.

You had an erection the whole time as she bounced ideas and plans off you of where to go and what to do for that weekend.

Morgan was really bubbly and drunk. “He's going to lose his shit. He's wanted this since he met me.” She had a knowing smile on her face as she eyed her wine. “He'll be disappointed though.”

For some reason, you said, “why?” Truly wondering why he'd be disappointed.

Morgan looked at you. “When someone is like obsessed with another person, they think sex is going to be the most AMAZING thing in the world.”

“I don't think he's OBSESSED with you,” you chuckled.

Morgan rolled her eyes. “He's tried to fuck me since you introduced me to him. Legit the first time.” This was true. Bill still talked about how they talked about sex together all night. It was just Morgan politely waving him off as she would for years. “It's either going to go one way. It's great sex like he says it will be, and we'll want to do it a bunch, or it will suck and be awkward.”

For the first time, you realized what she was saying. She wasn't just going to go on a “date” with Bill, she was going to fuck him. “So...so...” you couldn't even get the words out. Jealousy ran through your body, and swirled until it danced up your erect cock. “You're going to have sex with him.”

“Bunz,” she said, calling you by your pet name. It was short for Bunny Honey. One night during sex she had called you her little rabbit. Banging away with no style or purpose. Just humping. It made her laugh. Rabbit became bunny, and then bunny honey. Eventually it was bunz, with a “Z” as time grew on. It was cute from her, but demeaning from friends, especially Bill who constantly called you by that monicker. “Bunz,” she said again rubbing your hand as you looked down. “I'm going to be his for a weekend. In every-way that means. I get to let go a little and go crazy, and you guys get your fantasy.”

You looked up, “I can help you let go.”

She shook her head. “We've tried that and failed. Remember the casino? I got dressed up....you couldn't handle it! Every time I dress up its awkward.”

She was right. That night at the casino was odd. She dressed sexy as she ever had in a turquoise top, and tight jeans and heels. You followed her around not saying much as she got hit on time and again. It was like no one believed she was with you.

Morgan stood up and went to the deck to have a smoke. “It's going to be a blast, trust me.” She said seeming to light up a bit, as she went on. “I'm going to get into this 100%, OK,” she looked at you, and pointed with a cigarette between her fingers, “just live it, enjoy it and don't complain, and no questioning what happens...no matter what.” She looked at you even more seriously. “No questioning what happens.” She stated it again. And then a third time, now more sternly.

You stood there, an obvious erection in your pants. You wanted to say a thousand things. To stop this. To talk sense into her. But she already knew about your stories. Your fantasies. Did you want this? Could you stop this. “Ok” was all you said.

Morgan clapped her hands. “I got SOOO many plans.” She had a devilish smile.

That night the two of you had sex, and Morgan seemed VERY into it, getting on top, and riding you down into the bed. She was moaning louder that usual, and her pussy was wet. It made you cum hard and fast. She had a nice little orgasm herself, you knew, because you felt her pussy contract, as it did with every orgasm.

Days past and not much happened. It was mid March, and Morgan hadn't mentioned this again. Tuesday rolled around, and you were sitting at a bar near your apartment with an old college buddy. Morgan was working late, and it would take her sometime to get to the apartment.

Your phone buzzed. It was a chat with Bill, her and you. “Ok,” she texted. “Bill...you're going to get your chance.”

Bill's response was “WTF”.

Morgan laid it out. He would get her for a weekend. Cinco De Mayo weekend. There was always a party in the city. She said if he came up, she'd be his. In all ways that meant. In ALL ways, she stressed.

Bill texted you privately if this is real. You didn't know what to say other than you didn't know.

Morgan texted that neither you or Bill was to discuss this outside of this chat. Nor was anyone to complain or question or it wouldn't happen. No insults, no bragging, no boasting. No questioning what happens. This was going “her way”.

You were drunk, and now horny as fuck that this was really happening. IT WAS HAPPENING. You clearly seemed out of sorts, and your pal called you out. You just said you needed to go home. You had to work, and had too many for the night.

As you walked around the corner down towards that alley that lead to your apartment, Bill was texting, and you kept saying you don't know what is going on. Morgan then texted you about going to her apartment, and helping her send in an excel of invoices she had been working on in the guest room. You were drunk, but you agreed, and thought maybe some panties would be kind of nice.

As you drove Bill kept asking if it was real and he was going to get to fuck Morgan....FINALLY. He talked about how much work he'd put in. He NEEDED this. You didn't respond. You got to her apartment. You received a notification from Facebook. Morgan had changed her relationship status to “single”. It was only viewable to three fourths of her contacts. None of her contacts that knew you, including family and friends.

Morgan wrote in the group chat that everyone needed a night to “get the awkwardness out” before the big weekend. “Let it happen organically.” she added. “No questions.” This went beyond her original plan, but her voice and her stern “no questioning what happens” echoed in your head.

Weird, you thought, and were about to mention it to Morgan. You head Morgan's voice in your head “no questioning what happens”. You went inside and went to the fridge. You got a bunch of beers, and were about to go into your ritual, as you were horny as hell. But you had to send the excel sheet. So you went to her computer. It was in power-save mode, so you moved the mouse.

The screen came up, and you stood shocked to see a Plentyoffish account opened to the chats section. A small window popped up that “two different devices were logged in” and asked if this was ok. You clicked “ok”. The profile was “hottiemorgan”, and you clicked on the pictures. There was a selfie of her smiling face, cute as all hell, and then two from weddings, one in a green dress and make-up, and another in the white top and tan skirt. She looked stunning in those. You noted 324 messages. You clicked on message after message of “I want to fuck you” or “Your are so hot”. Morgan's profile, you discovered was created that day a few hours ago. It was VERY popular already. You looked at “chats started by hottiemorgan”, and there were none. This was so strange, but so hot at the same time. Your cock was dripping now.

You perused her likes, and it was “tough guys, funny guys, guys looking to have fun.” She put stuff in there about liking reading, and scary movies. How she loved to cook for her man, or anyone, at the front desk of a hotel. She said she was “looking for fun only. FUN ONLY!” She wrote those words. It was so strange.

Then the icon popped up again about two log-ins. You clicked “ok” again. She must be logged in. You watched as more people tried to contact her. Then you saw an icon appear “You favorited StudAFBill”. Another icon popped up....”Chat created”. You went into chats and saw a message from “hottiemorgan”. It was to StudAFBill.

“Hey cutie” was all that hottiemorgan had written.

You were shocked to see Bill wasn't online and sat there waiting for a response. You couldn't handle the suspense and went to smoke on the deck. You heard a ding from the computer and ran back, with a cigarette in your hand still.

“Hey gorgeous,” StudAFBill responded, and you saw both were “online”.

“Where you from” hottiemorgan asked. Bill responded with your hometown. You watched as they chatted back and forth for an hour, beer in hand, and cock burning in your pants. It was actually pretty boring stuff. Still it was intensely erotic for you.

“You're really beautiful,” Bill added.

“Do you have an email,” hottiemorgan asked. “Too many fuckboys on here.” She was right, there were about fifty new messages unopened. Bill responded with his email.

A minute later, your phone buzzed. It was an email. You opened it to see Morgan had sent an email from her own legitimate email to Bill. It was Morgan. You had your doubts, and now your heart raced. You were blind carbon copied.

“So you wanna get a drink sometime stud?” She asked in the email.

You waited for minutes, and no response. Then realized Bill couldn't BCC you. A minute later, you got a new email, and noticed it was from Morgan, with Bill's response message below. He had stated “just give me a time and place.” Morgan had responded with her address for Friday night. You waited to see another email. It didn't come. Five minutes later, you got a notification of a new email. You saw Morgan had responded to Bill who had said he couldn't because he couldn't drive and had to work. You thought, REALLY BILL. Morgan then responded with YOUR address from where you grew up on Friday night. She was going to start this at the house your grew up at, which again was different. She said it was because it was easier.

A minute later a new email from Morgan came through. “See you then,” she wrote, as Bill had agreed with a laughing emojii.

It was too much for your little cock and you raced to the bathroom. You pumped your little dick and it exploded against the wall.

You were about to sleep, when Morgan texted you she would rather you sleep at the apartment. Seriously, you were about to respond, but then stopped, hearing her words of “questioning” in your head.