Carly smiled at Andrew as she stood up with her glass. "You know," she said, "you'll like this guy."


"Whatever, Eeyore."

Andrew turned his wounded eyes to Carly. "You think that just because we weren't right or whatever for each other, I'm jealous of every man you date and it isn't so."

Carly smiled from the kitchen doorway. "I thought we were quite right for each other. Catching you butt-fucking my cousin is what spoiled it more than anything."

"I was drunk. Or high."

"You were neither."

"And just because we're still friends, that shows we're whatever for whatever."

"I'll defer to your logic on that. One sec."

The doorbell rang while Carly was in the kitchen. "Oh, shit," she called. "That's him. How do I look?"

"Like a sophisticated housewife moonlighting as a stripper."

"Perfect." She winked.

Carly opened the door, blocking the way in with a lavish tilt of her hips. A tall man with black hair and a tight T-shirt partially concealed by a suit jacket leaned in and kissed her while Andrew waved from the couch.

"Is he . . . ?" the man asked, letting his voice trail off.

"No, mostly normal. Just a bit drunk."

"I'm Carly's ambiguous male friend, the one who disapproves of her boyfriends," Andrew said, rising to shake hands.

"Brad," the man replied, taking Andrew's hand, staring at the meeting of their flesh, seemingly perplexed.

"It's your lucky day, Andrew," Carly said without preamble.

"Oh, what?! Oh, God, no!"

"Don't worry," Carly laughed. I've voir dired him quite thoroughly."

"How long have you too been dating?"

Brad laughed. "We aren't. I met her at the gym last week."

"You know," Carly said. I've done this once or twice before, when I was young. But I never had a favorite." She tilted his shirt collar up on end.

Brad was already removing his clothes. Andrew stared at him with aghast dismay.

"What?" Brad asked. "I'm just here to fuck."

Carly leaned close to Andrew's ear. "I liked catching you with Tim. I just didn't realize until afterward. Now what do you want to do?"

"Suck his cock, fuck you, then leave."

"Okay, good, now here's what's going to happen. You're going to make love to me on the sofa while Brad watches. You're not to cum, then he takes your place . . . and you lick his balls."

"Why?" Andrew asked.

"I don't know the history, but it's probably to make up for that Tim character." Brad turned to Carly. "You don't whisper so quiet."

Carly undid the large white bow at the back of her red sundress and tried to shrug it off. Sighing in exasperation when she couldn't, she turned to Brad. "Undress me, you gorgeous piece flesh." Brad smiled and knelt, raising the dress to reveal red fishnet stockings that fit into calf-length red leather boots, fastened at the top to a garter belt and a teddy that could perhaps best be described as eccentric. "Do you realize how hard it is to find red back seamed fishnet stockings?" Carly asked. "You'd better appreciate them, Andrew. I actually Googled, `I want to look like a red whore' at one point out of exasperation." She turned to Andrew and cupped her partially concealed breasts. "Do you remember these, baby?" she asked, chest beginning to heave as she massaged herself. Andrew blinked and nodded. "They still ache for you sometimes. It's so scary, that ache." She straddled Andrew's lap and pulled his head close as he began to lean in. "I'll always fucking need you," she hissed.

When Andrew began to kick at his shoes, Carly unzipped his pants for him. Remarkably in time with each other, they disrobed him and instinctively fused, Andrews dick pulsing inside its lavishly wet home, coaxed to swell further by the illusory delicate grasp of loving flesh that rippled with spasms around his prick, searing its tip. "Pussy, baby," Carly mewed, gyrating her hips. "Maybe my pussy." She leaned close and whispered to him, "You hot fucking hunk. You hot fuck. Listen." She drew back with a lascivious grin on her face. Andrew shook his head in swift jerks, as though attempting to shake a thought. Then his features fell slack.

"Carly?" he asked. "Carly?"

"You love me," Carly crowed.

"God, fuck." Andrew strained beneath her. "I love you. I love you."

"Who's your goddess? Who's your God?"

"No. Not you. No. Carly? Carly? Carly?"

Carly moaned, toss her hair from side to side. "Who are you praying to, love?"

"God. You. Carly, tell me. I want it to make sense again."

"You were bad, but now you're good."

"I'm good?"

"But you still need a punishment, to teach you."

"No. Why?"

"So you don't ever, ever, ever make me miss you again. You have no idea." Her voice turned sweet. "You have no idea how I needed you and you weren't there." She kissed him.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're forgiven. You're already forgiven."

"But I still need to be punished."

"Yes," Carly said firmly.

"So I'll learn."

"Yes, baby. I'm sorry. Make me cum with your prick and then watch Brad fuck me, so you know how it feels. And especially lick his balls. For making me wait. For making me want you, this, you more." Andrew began to buck his hips violently up against Carly, throwing her off her rhythm till she fell still all together, eyelashes fluttering, motioning him to stop. She slid off Andrew, onto the sofa, legs draped over his lap. Andrew began to reposition himself and Brad coughed. "Andrew, honey, fetch me that drink I left in the kitchen. Maybe some fresh ice," she said groggily then, smiling broadly at Brad, "Come here, you."

Without a display of sentiment or even really of enthusiasm, Brad mounted Carly and slid into her. Carly draped her arms around his back, and watched his eyes with an askew smile, something Andrew, again in the doorway, attributed to a grimace at the power of Brad's thrusts. Carly's stomach began to ripple, coupling his rhythm to hers in hard, hedonistic rut. Seeing Andrew out of the corner of her eye, she pointed him out to Brad who smiled broadly and spread his legs wide, maintaining his pace as best he could. Andrew watched the scene. "This isn't doable," he said. Carly shot him a hard look. "I'll break my neck." Brad and Carly sighed in unison and exchanged places, Carly leaning over Brad's torso as best she could. Andrew knelt behind her and, mashing his face into the suede sofa cushion, ran his tongue along Brad's balls. Brad yelped, his body contorting.

"That's a good boy. Ruff ruff," Carly said.

Amused despite himself, Andrew began nibbling ever so softly on the ridge along the bottom of Brad's sack, listening to him whine and buck uncontrollably. Glad that it wouldn't last much longer, Andrew pressed the flat of his tongue to a testicle and sucked gently, letting his lips engulf more and more of it, moving his tongue in slow circles."

"God! Fuck!" Brad cried at a near scream and fell still.

Andrew reached up and grabbed Carly by the hair then, standing, tugged her off the couch and turned her around as she hopped lightly from foot to foot, eyes closed. He pushed her down and down until she was on her knees, his hand holding her head to the sofa. Sinking behind her, he slid again inside the pussy he wanted nothing more than to be a sheath to his cock, to love and to taste, to fuck and to adore, to own and to pump inside, losing a bit more of himself to Carly with each cum, while what remained of him that was his own grew ever more crucial to her happiness, and more, her peace of mind, and more, her very capacity to ever be happy. Forever hers and free forever in her love that gave meaning to what were otherwise a congealed mass of passing days. Leaning over her, holding her wrists to the sofa cushion, they fucked like dogs, fast, rough, brutishly climbing to orgasm, Carly desperate for his cum, for his body to wilt and soften with his will. His mood fluid, his proud, smug ego pealed back from his brain, every part of him dripping with desperation for her to fill his every need, and her certainty that she could if she were to choose. Neither saw Brad walk up behind Andrew with the bow to Carly's sundress and tie it over his nose and eyes. Brad sat on the sofa, erect again, and smiled down at Carly to her annoyance though, impaled and held fast like a bitch, she could do nothing but glare and turn away, panting and mewling and finally letting Andrew taste her voice.

"Baby, will do me a favor?"

"What? Yes. Anything."

"My pussy is so hungry. Will you feed it with your really good cum?"

"My really good cum?"

"The kind with bits of your soul."

"Oh, God," Andrew stated flatly and rose off Carly's back, still inside her.

"It's okay, baby. Mommy wants you to cum inside her so she can feel you destroy your doubt. If you cum inside me, you'll be mine."

"No, no, no," Andrew chanted not moving,.

"It's your choice. Well, no, I take that back. Andrew, your ass belongs to me. Now cum inside to prove it's true."

"Gawwwd!" Andrew cried and shuddered, spent himself in Carly.

"That's a good boy," Carly said with a smile. She wriggled forward and let Andrew collapse to all fours. Removing the bow from his head, she squatted down beside him. "Would you like to suck that cock? It's okay if you really want to."

"Do you want me to?"

"I want you to want to do it."

"I'll do it for you."

Carly frowned in a pout. "No, Andrew, I want you to want to do it for you."

Andrew nodded, suddenly eager and crawled over to Brad and began to administer an almost violent blowjob.

"Ooooh, baby, that is so hot," Carly said. Andrew glanced at Carly. Brad was leaning back on the sofa, mouth agape and eyes on the ceiling. Carly smiled and traced a random, meandering swirl around her face. Andrew began to tug faster at the base of Brad's cock, feverishly bobbing his head, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of throat choking flesh. When Brad grunted, Andrew wrapped a hand firmly around Brad's prick and jerked him off fast and effectively, kissing and running his tongue around uncircumcised tip of the raw, veined shaft of meat. As soon as Brad began to spurt, Andrew pulled his head back a half foot and let his face be bathed in white ropes of gay cum.