Corruption Of A Geek Goddess Pt 05

Author's Note

: This chapter got so long I had to split it in half. But, good news: the other half is already finished, so Part 6 will be submitted to Literotica in just a week or two.

Huge shout-out up front to Nora, who was an even bigger source of ideas & inspiration than usual this time around — in fact the main idea for this installment was her pitch, and she actually wrote a first draft for part of it that I then built the whole scene around. Already a muse, here Nora threatens to be promoted to co-author. This series owes her a debt. As do I.

Anyway: Mark & Chelsea are still enjoying their cuckold adventure with their friend Dylan, which they've agreed will end after their wedding, now one month away. Chelsea has not been 100% forthcoming with Mark about every little worrying detail. She just got home from last night's date with Dylan, where he got her to promise to cut her fiancé off from her pussy until after the wedding ... and also filled her up with cum at a distressingly fertile time in her cycle. Oops.

All characters and events are fictional. Enjoy!

_______________*_______________

Chelsea

You know that feeling when you've just barely woken up and the very first thing you hear, before your eyes are even open, is the sound of a household filled with life? People talking, laughing, making breakfast: the sound that taunts you with the knowledge that you've overslept like a bum while everyone else is already seizing the day? And you realize you're still in bed not just because you're a lazy goldbricker, but also because everyone else took pity on you and let you sleep in? And so you cringe and shut your eyes tighter because you know you'll have to make a walk of shame out of your own bedroom?

O-ho! Look who decided to join us,

they'll joke. Ha-ha.

Anyway, that's how I started my morning the day after Dylan's soul-shattering fuck that left me vowing to cut Mark off from my pussy until the wedding, a full four weeks away. It turns out that being fucked unconscious & bred like an animal really takes it out of you! Yikes. Well, we'll think about that later.

For now, my baby sister Talia had arrived for her visit, and my fiancé was gamely playing the good host all on his own.

Okay, Chelsea: up and at 'em.

I crawled out of bed in my oversized t-shirt and stumbled down the hall to find Mark & Talia lounging around the kitchen table with half-eaten pancakes in front of them, laughing like old friends. Mark had already shaved & showered, while my sister looked effortlessly beautiful — she always does.

Talia caught sight of me first: "Well now: look who decided to join us!" (Called it.) I smiled sheepishly and threw my arms out to my sides.

"Baby Sis!" I called out. She stood up with a glowing smile and skipped over to me for a big bear hug.

"Chezzie! I've missed you so damn much..."

I leaned into the hug and hummed in genuine pleasure — dear god, did it ever feel good to see her again after 6 months apart! Even with my bed-headed walk of shame and all the complicated thoughts about last night still swirling in my head, this was such a great way to start my morning. I released her from the hug, but only reluctantly.

"Holy crap, I am so glad you're here, Tee! Let me go get cleaned up and I'll be right back. Save me a stack of pancakes."

I walked back down the hallway to the bathroom, got naked, and turned on the shower to let it heat up. I stole a glance at the mirror while waiting — it was weirdly reassuring.

See, Chelsea? You're still you. Loving girlfriend, devoted sister ... all that good stuff. Relax.

After a quick shower I threw on a new halter top & jean shorts (and my Peach bracelet, and my choker) then went back out for breakfast with my beloved little sister. And though we hadn't seen each other in half a year, we picked up right where we left off like no time had passed at all.

"Damn, Sis," she said as I sat down, "look at you. I thought you might be, like, run down. Like, anxious about the wedding, dealing with all the arrangements. But you're practically glowing, I can just see it. You're actually still excited! I guess you must really love this mope, huh?"

"Hmm. You know what? I think you're right." Yeah, she really is ... for more reasons than she'll ever know. "And anyway, my darling hubby-to-be takes good care of me; he's been a champ with the wedding planning, and he's so supportive I could just die. He's made this such an awesome time for me, you have no idea." Mark & I shared a sly smile at that, and Talia pretended to scrutinize his face.

"Alright, alright ... I guess I approve. You can stick around, mister." She gave Mark a playful punch on the arm. "By the way, I LOVE the new threads — Mark's getting one hot little number. Oh! And look at that darling little choker on your neck. You know what they say about that, don't you?"

"No, what?"

"That it's like a black belt for sucking dick." Mark damn near choked on his coffee when she said that; it was adorable. "Ha! Look how red he's getting! How about it, lover-boy, would you say she's earned her black belt?"

"Oh my god! You bitch. Babe, do NOT answer that question..." Talia & I dissolved into laughter with Mark chuckling along nervously — we have fun. Once that was finished I was eager to get the attention off myself, so I asked after her own love life: "And how are things with

your

guy? Bryan? Byron? How's he doing?"

"Oh. That. Yeah, he's ok I guess. But Bryan and I kinda broke up." She'd moved up to San Francisco for her six-month internship, and two months in she'd started dating this 30-something manager at the company.

"Aw, shit. I'm sorry, Tee. What happened?"

"Nothing happened. The internship was over and I was leaving town, that's all. He said he'd quit and follow me down here, but I told him, like, 'No, that's sweet of you, but you'd better not.' You know how that goes."

Oh yeah. Sure thing, Talia. I know how it goes.

Alright, so. Here's the thing about my sister: we've heard this song before ... many, many times.

Everyone

falls in love with her — guy-friends, boyfriends, casual hookups. Even a couple queer girls who started praying to the Lavender Gods that maybe Talia wasn't 100% straight. She'll go on three dates with a guy and suddenly he's looking for a starter home and trying to guess her ring size. (I'm exaggerating, but only a little.) And these are quality dudes I'm talking about! Ugh. It's disgustingly easy for her. It's like she's been dating on Cheat Mode since she was 14.

And the thing of it is ... I totally get it. She's goddamned stunning: tall & leggy & tight & curvy, with big eyes and cheekbones and pouty lips and a natural glow coming off her impossibly flawless skin. But, hell, forget all that — there's tons of pretty girls out there. Talia is

vivacious.

Witty, magnetic, outgoing. The life of the party. She's also super-smart, but more importantly she's got her shit together. She's sane, well-adjusted. And how does that even happen? I mean, she's been the go-to jerk-off fantasy for every guy around her since middle school, like she grew up in a male-gaze shooting gallery. She's supposed to have a few emotional bullet-holes in her — narcissism, borderline personality, an eating disorder,

something.

But, no. My sister won every damn lottery there is.

But do I feel bitter about any of that? No! No no no no no

no

!

Well, yes.

Look, I'm kidding. Tee and I have always been close, even as kids. She's like my favorite person, and from the time we were teenagers we've been best friends: I truly adore her. But, well ...

you

try having a kid sister who's a slightly better version of you, in every way. We look and act so much alike, except she's a little taller, and bustier, and prettier; good eyesight (no glasses), more popular, better grades, promising career, etc. etc. etc. Our whole family loves me and is proud of me, and that's wonderful ... but they are *in awe* of Talia. So there's a nagging jealousy in the back of my mind, like we have a secret rivalry going where my sister is just beating the pants off me without even realizing it. And whenever I'm with her, there's this tiny gremlin in my ear telling me to impress her, to mind what I say, to be deferential. I can handle it, and I know it's not her fault. But it still sucks.

Now, why am I spilling my guts out like this? Because sitting at the breakfast table with my sister that day, for the first time in forever, that fucking gremlin was gone! I didn't feel like I had to measure up, and I didn't feel like I was "less than." If anything it was the opposite: I was getting better sex from a hotter guy than she could even imagine. Has she ever gotten fucked so good it broke her brain? Unlikely. Would she be brave enough to throw herself into hyper-kinky Dom/sub games with another guy on the eve of her wedding? Not a chance.

I had a sexy secret in my in my back pocket, and it gave me so much confidence, so much pride. I felt totally free ... I felt like a whole new person. And what was it that gave me this confidence? Ironically, it was my total sexual surrender: freedom, out of submission. It's powerful stuff.

***

Talia spent the whole day with us. Of course we didn't talk about our kinky cuckold games, but we talked about everything else, and it was wonderful. She leaves for grad school in New York in five months, and I don't even want to think about how much I'll miss her.

It was only after she left in the early evening that I remembered there was something I was supposed to do today.

What was it, again? It sure seemed important at the time ... Oh! That's right: you asked Dylan to blow an irresponsible load directly into the heart of your fucking womb last night even though you knew it was a risky time. Oops! Oh well, too late to run to the pharmacy now. We'll do it tomorrow.

But the next day Mark and I were streaming and working on a new video, and I guess it slipped my mind. The day after that I had a date with Dylan and I was preoccupied; I just didn't get around to it. The day after that I finally had to admit to myself that some sick part of me hated the idea of a taking Plan B after Dylan gifted me the seed I'd begged for — and how fucked up is that? — so I spent the whole day stewing over that and procrastinating.

Finally, the next day, I forced myself to go to Rite Aid. I grabbed a morning-after pill ... but I'd let it go so long I knew I'd better have a pregnancy test lying around, so I bought one of those too. Ugh! I'd waited five whole days: it's way too late, right? Has to be. I hid the pregnancy test away, stowed the pill for future use, and resigned myself to just rolling the dice. Waiting & seeing.

I knew this was ugly.

Bad Chelsea! Very bad!

But it's surreal how unconcerned I was by the whole affair. I just went about my day, and thought about anything except what might be happening in my body at that very instant.

Mark

I was at a bar one night while Chelsea was off with Dylan, waiting for a friend of mine to show up for a rare guy's night out, when an unwelcome surprise came up from behind and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Mark? Mark! Oh my god, it's so cool running into you here!"

"He-eyyyy, it's you ... wow. Um, yeah. What's up, Nora?"

Ever since we began playing our little game with Dylan, I've avoided our next door neighbors like the plague. Harry & Nora are great, and we're buddies, but I can't bear to talk to them now. Way back on that first night when it all started — in Dylan's hotel room after the convention, with Chelsea on the phone with me, letting me believe it was just roleplay — Nora was right there: she was in the room next door to Dylan's, getting nailed by one of his friends, cheating on her husband and listening as Chelsea did the same. But whereas Chelsea immediately told me what happened, Nora's been hiding the whole thing from her husband.

So I don't want to talk to Harry and feel complicit in the deception. And Nora's well aware that my dick gets hard at the thought of my fiancée fucking another man... which, no matter how at peace I am with it, is severely embarrassing. So I keep my distance from her too. But apparently she doesn't feel awkward about this like I do, because she seemed really happy to see me.

We chatted about nothing for a minute. While we did, I scanned the rest of the bar and didn't see her husband. Was she here with someone else? Is one of these guys the mysterious Cody? I decided I didn't want to know, and said nothing. Nora carried the conversation — she'd clearly had a few drinks already, which might be why she brought up the thing.

"Oh man, Mark, you missed a great time the other night at the club."

"The club?"

"Yeah, the club. On Friday? When the four of us went dancing." I still had no idea what she was talking about.

"Wait, the four of who?"

"You know: Chelsea & Dylan. Me & my date." Even while drunk, she could tell by my face that this was news to me; her eyes bugged out of her head. "Shit! Oh no. Did I just ... I mean, she told me you know all about her and, um ... you do know Dylan, right?"

You know your girlfriend is getting her snatch blown out on the regular when you're not around, right?

Yep, this was exactly as mortifying as I expected.

"Yeah. I know about Dylan. It's fine. She just hadn't mentioned that you guys went dancing."

"Okay. Phew! Anyway, we had a blast. I never would've pegged Chelsea as the type, but she really lets herself go on the dance floor, holy smokes. And she looked amazing by the way, so sexy. Every guy there was checking her out. I bet you would've had a great time, Mark..."

"Sure, sure. But I'm not much of a dancer, so it's fine."

"Ha! That's not what I meant and you know it — I still can't believe how kinky you are! You do NOT seem like the type." I forced a smile, nodded, and looked at my half-empty beer. "Come on, it's fine, don't be embarrassed. I don't get it at all, but I think it's cool. You should have fun with this while you can, really throw yourself into it. Embrace it, Mark!"

Ugh. 'Don't be embarrassed,' she said. Yeah, right. No hope of that. And I'm sure she thought she was being nice, but this all felt condescending as hell. So, I couldn't help myself: she wants to talk about our fucked up sex lives? Alright then, Nora. Fine. Let's do that.

"Anyway. How've you been? Hey, how's

Harry?

I don't see him anywhere; is he stuck at home watching your son? Poor guy..."

Ouch. That did it: not just a hit, but a critical hit. Nora's face fell and I knew right away she was a deeply conflicted adulteress, carrying some real guilt. She put up a brave front for me, confirmed her husband was at home, and politely excused herself, but I'd clearly wounded her. And for no good reason. It was petty, and I felt bad almost immediately. (Note to self: try to remember to apologize later.)

When my friend arrived a minute later, I told him I wanted to go to a different bar. I put Nora out of my mind and we had a fun night, but I was preoccupied thinking about Chelsea. Thinking about some of the things I hadn't let myself think about until now.

I came home a little before midnight to an empty house; my girlfriend wasn't yet back from her date. Normally that wouldn't bother me (if anything it heightened the erotic tension), but now all I could focus on was that word — "date." When we started the deal was: just sex. No romance, no acting like a girlfriend, no real dates. And now they're going out dancing? And god knows what else. She's never said and I've never asked, even as their time together on any given tryst has grown. I turned it over in my head, trying to think of how to broach the suspect when she returned, but I passed out before that could happen.

I woke up around an hour later, disoriented, with Chelsea's mouth on my dick.

"Hey there, sleepyhead ... you couldn't wait up for me?" She gave me a playfully pouty expression, then went back to licking & slurping.

I could tell she'd been drinking tonight, probably out on a

date.

While she alternated sucking and stroking she gave all sorts of filthy details about the three times Dylan had fucked her, about how many times he'd gotten her off, about how much hot cum was still up inside her. She teased me, making sure to remind me how good a lover he was, how much better. On her neck, I spotted a fresh love bite. It was all too much, and before I could even think about grabbing a condom and crawling on top of her, I was firing off into her hungry mouth. We passed out right after, snuggled up together.

When I woke up the next morning I felt better, less angsty. Chelsea was still passed out, and I used the time to think about what I actually wanted to say.

Chelsea

It was early afternoon the day after another A+ date with Dylan. I'd gotten up late, and now Mark & I were sitting on the couch together, idly gaming. That's when he started a conversation that we should've had ages ago.

"So, there's something I wanted to ask you about yesterday," he said, still half-focused on the game. "You went over to Dylan's early and got back late, so you were with him for like nine hours, right?"

"Shit, I'm sorry, honey. Was that too long?"

"No no no, it's fine, I'm ok with that. I just wanted to ask what you guys got up to."

"Hmm, I do believe I already told you all about it. Ohhh ... does my kinky boyfriend want to hear more details about his girlfriend being a naughty slut?"

"No — well, maybe. But it's not that. I mean, you told me about the three times you had sex, but I wanted to know what else you did. Like, you didn't just lay in bed for nine hours, right?"

"Oh." Crap. Am I the kind of girl who will duck an awkward truth or three for the sake of domestic harmony? Ok, yes. Guilty. But was I going to lie to his face when he outright asks a question? Hell no, not if I can help it. Besides, like I said: we really ought to have talked about this before now. "Well, we fooled around a couple times, had a snack. Then we went out to this bar by Dylan and met up with a friend of his. Stayed for a few hours, then we went back his place until I was sober enough to drive home."

"Uh-huh. And, Friday night? When you slept over?"

"Friday? Um ... ok, right. We went out to a bar that night, too. Or a club, I guess you might call it. We, you know ... we went dancing."

"Okay. And was that the first time?"

"... not exactly."

"Do you see what I'm getting at, Chelz?"

I sighed, paused the game, and finally turned to look at him. "Yeah, I think so. You're talking about how this isn't exactly what we discussed when we started. How it's not just sex."

"Bingo."

I studied his face for a moment before saying anything. He didn't look mad. I mean, Mark never looks mad, but he didn't even seem annoyed, so that was good. But my heart started thumping anyway, because this could be tricky. I wanted to reassure him that he's my #1 priority. Because, of course he is! And I felt such love for him then, such worry that I'd hurt him ... but I also felt a tingly dread in my gut that let me know I really, really wanted to reassure him

without

having to stop yet. Without even having to slow down, if possible.

Barf. That tingly dread is the soul-sucking worst, by the way. I hate that I feel it, and I hate that I immediately started figuring out how to do its bidding. But, god damn it, I was promised a few more weeks of this, and I fucking want them! (I'm trying to be more honest with myself lately — how am I doing?)

"Crap. I'm sorry, babe. I know we should've talked about this at some point. But I think I figured, like, you know Dylan, you know he's outgoing, and if we're spending a whole day together you know at some point we're bound to leave the house to do something. And you never asked, so ... I guess I thought you didn't want to talk about it. I told myself you had to know we were having fun outside the bedroom sometimes. Is that crazy?"