The Erotichronicles Of 2016 A D Ch 05

"Nngh-!"

"Just stay still!"

Pale fingers strained in clutching the rim of the reclining chair-arms; Michaela dabbed the cold, wet compress against Archie's bruised left eye, which produced several short but sharp grunts from the injured male. Each time he reacted, Michaela would quickly move her hand back and sigh with frustration. "I can only do this until half-past, you realise? I'm not babying you just because you caught a football to the face."

Archie muttered something inaudible under his breath – he was slightly dazed; it didn't appear to either of them that he'd said anything of great importance, and so he was met with another greeting from the cold pressure against his eye. He bit his lip as he tried not to cry out with the sudden pain, but his quickness of breath did little to dissuade his girlfriend from keeping her hand pressed against him. Out of comfort, she rested her free hand against his right knee.

"They seem to like you – maybe that ego of yours has some gravitational force behind it."

The snowy-haired male could barely laugh whilst he was being tended to, but he recalled their first date in the hope that focusing on the pain would cease; they had met up one afternoon in the summertime, and walked through the park that resided opposite Michaela's parents' house towards the cinema. As they passed one of the larger sections of field, Archie's face had then – as he purported to the colourful woman tending to him once more – caught a football squarely to his left cheek. It left a bruise which stuck with him for that whole week, but in some ways it brought the two of them closer together.

'How ironic.' Archie thought, as he sat through his lingering lie in order to avoid any suspicion – although a ball to the face was certainly not the first thing Michaela thought of as her lover walked through the door that evening.

As the drying compress was removed, it was placed into the man's hand, and he looked at it delicately before his gaze followed Michaela's rise and walk around the living-room. "What time will you be back?"

Michaela shrugged as she picked up some exercising clothes from the sofa, placing them into a large sports bag as she searched for her trainers. "Depends on what we go over tonight," She glanced back to him. "Why?"

Archie shrugged. "Thought it would be nice to spend some time together." His eyes caught the catch of a small rise from the corner of his girlfriend's mouth. It was quick, and unconvincing. "What's wrong?"

She paused, her back turned to him as she forced her trainers into the bag. "Really?" The voice was tight, escaping from behind gritted teeth, but the young woman's composure remained calm as she turned around to face him. "The last few nights you've been coming home late, and all I've wanted was to spend time with you." Archie, through his guilt, looked anywhere but at her awkwardly. "You want me to give up my time for you? Maybe you should make up the time you owe me first, instead of 'getting hit by footballs' here, there and everywhere!"

Her body and hands broke free of their strain from holding back and showing Archie that, deep down, the last few days had taken their toll on her also, and as his eyes looked back up to her, he raised a curious, worrying brow as he observed her. "Why did you say it like that?" Another sigh. He sat up, his bruised eye slightly closed as he tried to make proper eye-contact with her. "Michaela..."

She was holding back tears, her lips curling into her mouth slightly as she looked down. Michaela took a deep breath in and, for the first time that evening, met his gaze meaningfully.

"Promise me you're telling the truth."

"..W-What?"

"Promise me there isn't someone else."

There came a pause that felt like an eternity passing. Archie and Michaela had locked eyes, and it was impossible for him to escape without a suitable response. His mind flooded; everything over the last few days suddenly began to rush through his brain, and with each and every action he could feel the tug of his conscience pulling him towards the truth, until-

"I promise you...there's no-one else."

The pause remained, as if he hadn't said as much as he could – or, indeed, should. Michaela's breath could be heard in the tense silence and it stammered in and out as she continued to look at him.

Suddenly, a jingle began to ring out from somewhere in the hallway. They both looked, but only Michaela approached it.

She lifted up her phone from the third stair and flicked her thumb across it, switching her alarm off. Archie followed to the entrance, slowly and quietly watching her, holding her bag. As she turned to face him, Michaela released a sad smile and a single tear which ran down her cheek; she approached her boyfriend, relieving him of her bag as she tenderly pecked his cheek. Her voice came out as a whisper.

"Thank you."

From the walk to the door and out – the lock of the key and the fading, delicate thud of Dr Martens heading out of the driveway – Archie felt the demons in his head reach down through him and, collectively, tear away at his heart, until he sank to his knees and hunched his shoulders; his body broken, and what remained of his heart shredding into unsalvageable pieces.

–––––––

The bedroom clock struck 10 o'clock that evening; at the kitchen table a body sat, lonely and sullen, as it clung to life onto a bottle of dark rum half-emptied. Its head sunk close towards the table, a mess of white hair covering its face from sight as it's only other hand held a careful grasp onto a small drinking glass.

The slowly stirring creature was Archie, and within the space of nearly an hour he had devoured a good straight dosage of alcohol. He was a mess – his cheeks were red from tears that occasionally fled from his system, his throat hoarse from yelling and screaming into cushions just to avoid complaints from the neighbours. His lips were slick from the consumption of fluids, and where that wouldn't do much his tongue would help out as they felt like they began to dry.

Mechanically, his hands met in the middle, pouring another full glass of rum before putting the bottle aside. Yet again, he stared at it and thought to himself 'Last one' before taking a long sip and ingesting the first half of his drink down in one. He winced with a reactive grin, sucking in the air before slowly breathing out.

His bright eyes dazed and looking everywhere all at once, Archie attempted to push himself up onto his feet; with one hand on the table, the other would force the rest of his drink down his throat before it carelessly collapsed back onto the table, shattering into odd shapes and sizes. Archie stared at the mess. When he finally broke the gaze, all he could manage was a shrug, and from there on the walls and stable pieces of furniture became close friends to him as he navigated his way up the stairs.

His bruised eye caused him some difficulty when looking ahead, and so with one eye rested shut it took Archie a fair amount of time to reach the safe haven that was his and Michaela's bed. As he sat on the edge of it, the snowy-haired male started removing his clothes one piece at a time, throwing them everywhere away from the bed. Soon he stood, cautiously, completely naked. The light was never turned on, and so in the complete darkness the messy human drunkenly stood, staring out at the moon which shone over the houses opposite. He felt a few more tears pour out of him as he stared at the beauty in the moonlight; the warm air stilled around his body, and his flaccid length twitched lightly as the alcohol began to move its way down through his being.

Archie collapsed back onto the bed, childishly clambering and climbing up all the way to the headboard using his elbows and legs. He didn't bother to envelop himself under the duvet, given that by now he was far too warm to enjoy the comfort of the covers.

The dim light of the alarm clock shone '10:20PM'; Archie was wide awake. The alcohol failed to make him as sleepy as he'd hoped it would, thus leaving him with his thoughts, his golden eyes piercing into the blank, empty ceiling above him. It couldn't give him the answers he was hoping for; no solution to his inevitable failure. He couldn't see a quick and peaceful resolution to the situation. Even in lying, it seemed likely that Michaela knew that he was lying to save his own skin.

Or maybe she didn't? Archie's anxiety couldn't make heads or tails of anything anymore. He thought back over everything that happened, and wondered how it came to pass that it should all fall to ashes around him; how two young women managed to take advantage of him-

'No, that's not quite right...' Archie shook that thought away. How could they possibly have taken advantage, when he so willingly gave himself over to pleasure and infidelity? The trouble, of course, quickly became the growing length between his legs as his thoughts lingered a little too long over the more explicit scenes in his escapades. He produced a long sigh and rolled onto his side, his right arm keeping his head up and his eyes closed as the free hand automatically wrapped around his stiff member.

–––––––

The air was dry and still. Moonlight illuminated the bedroom through the window, and a shadowy silhouette peaked out slightly from the body on the bed. A hand was moving quickly back and forth in one position; Archie's mouth had become dry, and so his tongue went to work once more, licking his lips where they were not agape and releasing light, husky moans.

He occasionally slicked the palm of his hand by spitting into it, returning to his shaft as it quickly lubricated under his touch. It was one of the few occasions where Archie had taken a different approach to just rubbing himself dry. The movement of his fingers as they brushed up and down against the tip of his cock brought a sensitive sensation that ran through his lower body, and he would occasionally expel some lighter moans when it happened.

His arm becoming uncomfortable, Archie moved onto his back and carried on, his right hand moving down to tenderly massage his balls. His eyes were shut as images raced through his drunken mind; he thought back to when he and Michaela had sex for the first time in their relationship.

She had just come back from her first day of training in pole-dancing, and the getup that she had to wear for it aroused Archie. Michaela found it unusual, but Archie pounced on her like a lion to an antelope – as he described it to a close friend the week after, 'only more sex and less cannibalism'.

His ego boosted as he recalled how many times he managed to make her juices flow in just one night. He bit his lip as he focused on that thought, stroking harder on his length – but quickly those thoughts changed, and all that remained in that moment was the image of Michaela's face before she walked out of the door. Having held in a breath, Archie found himself sharply exhaling, heavy breathing following in tow as he opened his eyes and looked around in frustration.

But out of the subconscious of his thoughts, he suddenly imagined two new beings that rested at either side of him on the bed; on his left, the raven-haired Erin lay in imagined half-nakedness, her heavy bust slightly pressed together as one arm rested with her hand on her hip, the other hand supposedly creeping up and down Archie's left arm. To his right, an imagined Tiffany was similarly resting, creeping up his right arm with the tips of her fingers.

Archie looked between the two, confused and unsure, but his member gave his feelings away as it stood stiff between him, the thought of the two of them beside him sending his hand straight back down, taking a firm grip of himself.

In blinks, Archie's mind changed the scene several times.

It began with both girls sat before him, their bodies pressed close together as their tongues met each other. They made out passionately in front of the lust-filled male as he stroked his length faster; a blink, and suddenly Tiffany was pressing her chest towards his face. Unthinkingly, his tongue reached out to lick at the nothing that would have been where her nipples sat before him – all the while, Erin's mouth worked his thick shaft in a quick bob, the sucking noises rushing through his ears. Archie felt his precum begin to seep out, and as he stroked it quickly added to the lubrication.

Another blink; Erin's mouth teased itself against the male's neck, slithering up to his own mouth as he once again darted his tongue up, hoping a tongue would return the favour and wrestle with his own. Tiffany replaced Erin's position below, squeezing her large breasts around his throbbing cock, tugging it up and down with them. The thought of it was driving Archie insane – gradually he grew closer and closer to release.

"Unnnhhh, gonna cum!" He mumbled out loud, barely able to get the words out as he focused on the pleasure. In the run up Archie's mind took one last turn, and as he blinked once more, the image shifted to Michaela atop him – her tight, slick pussy was bouncing up and down on his dick, with Erin and Tiffany either side of him watching with grins. Archie's eyes widened a little. He stared up at the hallucination that was his girlfriend. Her eyes were glaring directly into his, and for the first time that night, Archie didn't care. He imagined his hands took hold of her hips, and he drove his pelvis up as best he could to match her bouncing with heavy thrusts. She moaned louder, and louder, and cried out his name several times, until – with one final, powerful set of strokes – Archie's efforts released up and out of him, coating his naked torso as it raised up and down quickly where he attempted to finally catch his breath. The phantasms disappeared from his mind. All he was left with, now, was his mess.

The alarm clock turned to '11:00PM', and in the darkness Archie heard the faint sound of the front door unlocking.

–––––––

The sun replaced the moon, once again shining through the bedroom window and filling the room with gorgeous amber light.

Half of the clothes strewn about on the floor from the night before had been picked up and put back on for that day, but in his haste, Archie had failed to keep check of some of the items he had in his pockets.

Downstairs, the same amber light glistened across the wet and broken shards of the drinking glass on the table. A bright-haired woman sat in front of it, her head sunk slightly. She was half-dressed, makeup not yet worked on and for the better, as tears ran down her cheeks from tightly shut eyes. Some of the drops fell upon a small shred of paper that sat upon the table – a phone number stretched across it, with a small scribble below saying 'Tiffany'.

Michaela's hands were clasped together on her lap. Her right hand held a tight grip on her mobile phone, the screen illuminated and showing a successful call to the number on the paper, and three unsuccessful calls to the only number in her contacts with two hearts against his name.

In her left hand held his campus ID and door-pass.