3 comments/ 10594 views/ 1 favorites Atlas By: BenjiBright I have held. Above me the heavens race on their interminable paths and below me the nothingness yawns, hungry and prepared to do thoughtless violence. I am the dream of living stone: a marbled chest, a sheer and rigged stomach, arms enough for worlds and worlds and worlds. On my back the strain writes an old story: every muscle taut, every blood vessel pumping, even my thoughts compressed into their most essential form. The eons have whittled the misery away. This curse has become a dull edged thing. I have held and I continue to hold and there is no release. Yet when the spectres come, I hesitate. Are they a part of my mind or visions sent to torment me, to stir desires best left dormant? They are the only thing this monstrous strength cannot bear. They come like silk and shadow, draping in the crooks of arms raised to either side of my head. Their touch lacks the warmth of living flesh or what I remember of flesh, but it is soft in a world where everything has become hard. That is horror enough. They run down into my shoulders where the pressure is greatest, they knead the knots they find there and threaten to unravel my unchanging pose. I redouble my effort. I must not move a fraction. I must never dream of reclaiming even an inch of this body. They slink down onto my chest to make their mischief. The flesh rises to their ministrations, but worse is that the mind stirs. Some distant recollection of desire threatens. The old ache begins to rouse. It is a heaviness slumbering into being, blood diverted from the ancient purpose to wake something more primordial even than this punishment. They slither through the peaks and valleys of my abdomen as if it were a mountain range. Their slow and careful progress foretelling further degradations of my will. As they reach across my body they pry into my mind. It must be so, I think, to have inflamed me as they have. Already my shame is thick and full, untended and unasked for. They slide across my waist in both directions like a belt looping around my trunk. With a dexterity both otherworldy and obscene, they dip into the crevices before and behind. Between both solid muscular globes they extend their grasp. They inch between my legs and with hellish patience they travel the surface of my testes, cupping them and drawing them back. My thoughts sizzle with ungentle filth. The debasements of a former life rise to the surface like scum on placid waters: orifices plowed, mouths moaning, backs arched and trembling. The heat of madness is upon me, but my body remains. The burning ache in my shoulders, in my legs, the chasms worn into my palms — these are all reminders of my lot. I remember and I do not move. They score the insides of my thighs with their motion as they leak down my legs. They have avoided the obvious and my tongue is thick with the disappointment. My hardness goes unconsidered. They grab at my calves and massage at my shins. I even feel their presence squirming between my toes, a light tension on each like a sucking mouth. I try to speak; to condemn or to beg, but the millennia have stripped away that vestige. The sound that emerges is like stone over stone and only seems to embolden the spectres in their deeds. It seems impossible how they multiply then, spreading irrationally across my flesh. The grasping, prodding, stroking shadow stretches everywhere but where I need it most. My organ bobs angrily on waves of titillation, each caress proving an incitement, each pinch further proof that I am lost. The moment arrives at last when even this body, diamond-forged under the weight of all existence, cracks. All it takes is a simultaneous thrust into my lower orifice, a tweak of my engorged nipple, and a hard squeeze of my testes and the surge comes upon me. My tortured erection rages unbidden and begins to unload. It spits forth a froth borne of centuries of neglect. It sprays recklessly into the dark thrown by its own momentum, spewing quietly, unaccompanied by so much as a harsh breath from my throat. I remain quiet, I suppress the shiver that threatens to begin in my belly and fan outward like a conflagration into my muscles. I must not move, even though the pleasure ravages me. I have held and I must hold. It ends eventually. The heavy machinery between my legs still heavy and dripping the last of itself. A warmth settles into the space left by the chaos of coming. It is this pleasant sensation that brings the worst of the guilt. To have been turned from the task that keeps the cosmos aligned by selfish pleasure. It will be many thousands of years before another such moment of weakness. I steel to my purpose even as I turn the moment over and over in my mind. Time will take the edges off of this memory and when I have returned to my task, fully committed to it without hesitation, I know the spectre will return to tempt me again. To keep the suffering fresh. I must not falter. I must hold. Atlas Meghan guzzled a craft beer in seconds, pumping her Adam's apple as the loud pub pulsed around her. "Ahhhh," she sighed, and smacked her glass on the wooden table. She smiled. "You learn a few things growing up in Minnesota." Her audience of two was split. Charlie, Meghan's coworker, grinned. His girlfriend Marissa looked slightly sick. Meghan giggled. "What?" She asked. "It's not that hard. You just sort of tilt your head back and - open your throat, like this." Marissa brushed her long brown hair out of one eye. "Uh-huh. Wow. You said you learned that in Minnesota?" "Well, for like two weeks in college I wanted to rush a sorority. So you have to learn how to drink a lot of beer really fast. I remember one time they ... I think it was Chi Omega, they had this big house, and we had to drink a six-pack in six minutes without throwing up. And most of the girls puked all over the house but I didn't!" Charlie, who had been popping croutons from Marissa's salad: "Yeah, and I bet the guys found some use for that skill, too." Marissa moaned a "god" and slapped his muscled arm. Meghan blushed, giggled and snorted. "It's cool, Meghan. Trust me," Charlie declared. "Nothing better than a girl who can keep up." He glanced down at Marissa, who rolled her eyes. Meghan turned from the couple and watched the lunch crowd. This was one of her favorite places to eat in the city - close to work, pretty close to home, and full of college kids having fun. She was only a year removed from graduation but already missed school. Seeing young people flirt, drink and joke with each other was like comfort food. She watched an obvious first date across the room. It wasn't going well - the guy looked nervous, the girl was bored. Meghan watched her stare at her drink, pushing the straw around her tall glass while her date jabbered away. Too bad, Meghan thought. He's cute. She wondered why Marissa put up with Charlie - the short brunette always seemed so frustrated with her tall, muscular boyfriend. But if Charlie noticed, he didn't care. He often teased Marissa until she was downright pissed off, then he'd laugh about it and move to whoever else was around. Meghan thought it was cute, but she doubted Marissa felt the same. "It's really loud here," Marissa said. "Do you guys come here a lot?" "Oh, I love it here," Meghan said. "The food is really good. Actually I've never had this burger before and it's great, do you want some?" (Marissa shook her head.) "Yeah, I'd say we come here...Twice a week?" "Meghan's waiting for some college guy to hit on her," Charlie grinned. "Oh, no," Meghan said. Her companions smiled at each other; she couldn't tell why. (They liked her thick Midwestern accent.) "But actually I was here last weekend - I think Thursday - and this one guy was like, really aggressive on me. It was gross," she said to raised eyebrows. Marissa scoffed. "You need a guy like Charlie to put them off," she said. "I don't think anyone has hit on me in the two years we've been dating as long as we're together. Actually, maybe you can just date Charlie for a while. I need a break." "Fuck you!" Charlie laughed, stealing chicken off his girlfriend's nigh-untouched salad. Neither of them noticed the flush in Meghan's face. The Midwestern brunette buried her head in lunch and finished it. She tried to ignore the two beautiful people cooing at each other across the table. "Can you pay for me?" She said, tossing her credit card on the table and turning to Marissa. "I'm going to the bathroom. Don't let him leave my number for the waitress, he always does that." She left the table and headed for the stairs, passing the two people she had watched earlier. She caught a whiff of conversation - the man stuttering something about "risk-reward calculators" and sighed. To be young again. But she was young. Staring in the bathroom mirror five minutes later, Meghan saw a 23-year-old woman with a round face, wide mouth and healthy glow. She washed her hands slowly, churning through insecurities. What was it about her that said "friend" to guys like Charlie? Was she too manly? Did she have to start eating salads and looking bored all the time, like Marissa? She was lost in thought when first-date girl stepped next to her, checking her makeup in the adjacent mirror. "Sometimes you just have bad chemistry," Meghan said. The woman spoke without looking at her. "Oh my god, it's terrible. And it's crazy because he's so good in bed. That's the only reason I go out with him. He's the least interesting man I've ever met." Meghan giggled. "Never judge a guy by his cover!" The woman turned, seemingly satisfied with her porcelain face. "Where are you from? Your accent is cute." "Oh, Minnesota. Born and raised." "Wow," she said, grabbing a paper towel, realizing she didn't need it and handing it to Meghan. "I didn't know people lived that far north. So you're used to dating farm boys, then." "Oh, I wish. I went to school in Minneapolis so it was ... basically a lot of hipsters and frat guys. Not so different from here, actually!" "Great. Well, good luck with yours. I noticed him, he's hot." She left Meghan alone. Meghan picked a piece of meat out of her teeth and headed back to Marissa and Charlie. Their table had already been cleared, Marissa was digging around for a breath mint. "Okay, I have a late class tonight so I won't be home until 7," Marissa said when she'd found one. She popped it in her mouth and tongue-kissed Charlie. Meghan blushed and tried to busy herself signing her receipt. Marissa giggled. "Hey, give it back!" She kissed Charlie again. "Okay, bye," she said, and he left the booth so Marissa could stand. "Bye, Meghan." "Bye, good to see you!" Meghan stammered. She and Charlie watched Marissa leave the bar, drawing looks from men and women the whole way. Meghan cocked her head and stared at Charlie, who had sat back down. "Ya gonna go, or are we just gonna...?" "Yeah, give me a minute. Actually, I'll be right back," Charlie said. He stood and walked away. "Bathroom's the other way, Charlie!" She yelled. He didn't seem to notice. Meghan sat, pulled out her phone and checked Twitter. It was always a strange combination of dark news of the world and even darker news of her life. Everyone from college was getting married and everyone from high school was getting pregnant. Or addicted to drugs. She glanced over the room again and settled back on the couple from earlier - apparently not a first date at all. The guy still boring the pants off his companion. Meghan snorted. What was it that made a guy good in bed? Charlie had returned - she knew because he was standing behind her, flicking her ear. She decided to ask. "What makes a guy good in bed?" Charlie smirked. "Meet me in the bathroom, I'll show ya." Meghan smiled and slapped his arm. They headed for the exit. "I'm serious. I was just talking to some girl in the bathroom and she said her date was so boring but he was really good in bed. So because YOU made me wait for whatever it was you were doing I started thinking about it. Like is it your personality? Is it your ... ya know, size?" Charlie held the door for her as they crossed into the Charlotte sun. He put his hands in his pockets as they started the three-block walk to the gym. "Well, fuck, I dunno. You should be asking Marissa, not me." "Somehow I doubt she'd talk about it." "She doesn't have to," Charlie said, crossing a puddle with one long stride. "Dancer's body. Damn." "Shut up. Ew," Meghan groaned. But they lapsed into silence and Meghan couldn't stop herself from picturing it. Charlie towering over his small lover's tight body ... brown hair swirling as he ... Wet. "Idiot," Charlie chuckled. Meghan had stepped in a deep puddle, waterlogging her left leg up to the ankle. "Fuck!" She yelled. A few other people on the sidewalk turned, looked, turned back. Meghan kneeled, unstrapped her greek sandal and shook it. "How did you not see that?" "I don't know, Charlie, shut up," she huffed. "Let's just go." She walked half-barefoot the rest of the way. "Sorry I yelled at you," she mumbled as they reached Max Fitness. Meghan strapped her foot back into the sandal - she'd have to change out of them anyway, she couldn't wear sandals while she worked. But she hated wearing her uniform in public. "I'm hurt," Charlie said. He stepped close to her, leaving his crotch in her face. "Make it up to me, Meghan!" "Oh my GAWD, Charlie, STOP," Meghan said. She swatted him and he mimed pain. But for just a second Meghan thought she'd ... touched it, and that carried her through the rest of an otherwise mediocre day. Meghan had rental desk duty late on a Friday afternoon. That meant standing around in a yellow polo shirt and black workout pants and handing towels to gym members on their way to the locker rooms. Most of working at Max Fitness involved standing around. The owners scheduled more people than were necessary, even for such a big place. A lot of the members were younger, too, so they were loath to ask anyone for help or a demonstration. It wasn't the most fulfilling work, but it kept the lights on for Meghan while she worked on getting her poetry published. Meghan spent that Friday chatting with Jessica, a leggy redhead who claimed to hate Max Fitness but worked more hours than anyone else. "Look at this douchebag," Jessica said, leaning back against Meghan's desk and surveying the lower floor. She jutted her head out at a guy squatting in a cut-off t-shirt. He almost screamed every time he pushed the weight up with his legs. "Nevermind, LISTEN to this douchebag. Are you impressed, Meghan? Are his primal sounds making you all tingly inside?" Meghan giggled. "Oh, I dunno. At least he can lift 'em. I'd rather a guy be strong than a little wimp." "Please. All men are weak. If I went and talked to Mr. Big Stwong Man right now he'd be speechless." Jessica pulled out her phone and sighed. "Fuck men." Meghan put on her best sweetheart voice as a few girls came up and asked for towels. Jessica paid them no mind. She turned to Meghan after they'd gone. "So what's happening with your landlord?" "Ahh ... I dunno, he's trying to be nice about it. But he says if he changes the locks it has to come out of our security deposit, which is ridiculous. Because apparently it costs $200 to change the locks in a three-bedroom house." "Why does it matter how many bedrooms there are?" "I don't think it does, it's just - I dunno. He's being really victim-blamey about the whole thing. Nobody WANTED our house to get broken into. But he keeps, like, kind of implying it's our fault? Which is not okay." "Can't you sue him or something?" Meghan sighed and looked out at the gym floor. "I don't think it's worth it. We'll probably just pay and move when our lease is up." Jessica texted someone on her phone. The squat-screamer switched to deadlifts, dropping the bar from waist-high again and again. "You fuck Charlie yet?" Meghan turned crimson and busied herself wiping the desk down. "Um, DON'T know what you're talking about. He's my friend and he has a girlfriend, so..." "Come on, Meghan. I'm not a retard. He's cute, you like him, make something happen." She turned back out toward the floor. "Besides," Jessica muttered, "Something tells me Charlie isn't the most faithful guy on the planet." "He is, he's just ... he's a flirt, I guess. They seem to really like each other, I don't think he'd ever do anything." She finished wiping the desk. Jessica was back on her phone. "And I wouldn't either. We're friends." "Uh-huh. Well, you should fuck him or move on because I'm sick of watching you pine over him." Jessica pushed herself off the desk. "Excuse me, sir? Yeah, cut-off guy. We have other patrons here who do not need to hear your exuberance." The success of a work party depends entirely on the workers. An office full of introverts always winds up as a few awkward moves on the dance floor, stilted conversation and quick departures. But the people of Max Fitness were not introverts. Meghan left every party wasted, and there were more than a few times when someone had hooked her up with other questionable substances, too. She had no idea how everybody kept the bodies they did - even the hardest partiers from her college days would have struggled to keep up with the Max Fitness crew. Jessica drove like a drunken banshee to the night's first bar, screaming at other drivers over her Top 40 iPod mix. Meghan had long since learned not to complain. She shut her eyes and traded sips of vodka and orange juice with her chauffer. Everyone started at Joe's because the specials there were on decent booze - so you could get drunk on that while you still cared what the booze tasted like. The typical Max Fitness Friday Fuckshow (Charlie's term) wove from Joe's to The Bakery and ended at Woody's Saloon, where anyone left standing would pound $2 trash beers until they'd made enough questionable decisions for a lifetime. Meghan, who was relatively new to the gym, heard stories of drunken hookups that sounded straight out of a porn flick. But the Max crew had reached the point where pretty much everyone had slept with everyone else. The hookup days were over and, thankfully, so were the post-hookup months of jealousy. (Jessica remembered getting desperate, tearful phone calls in the middle of the night, but she refused to name names.) Everyone drank and had a good time. The Fuckshow was a litmus test for new employees; anyone who didn't care for it or couldn't handle it didn't last long. Meghan only went out about once a month and tried to savor the occasion. So she rocked three-inch open-toe heels, a black leather jacket and skin-tight jeans that night. Meghan basked in the gazes that followed her into the bar; not even Jessica outdid her. She strutted in and found Charlie sitting at the bar with Mike, a trainer. "How drunk are you guys?" Charlie turned, looked her up and down and grinned. "Not drunk enough for escort service. Come back later." "Whoa whoa whoa, Charlie, speak for yourself," Mike laughed. He gave Meghan a cartoon leer. "Ha ha, assholes. Mike, good to see you! How's your mom?" Charlie looked down at his whiskey sour. Mike forced a smile. "She's ... not great. Rather not talk about it tonight." "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry." Meghan hugged him. "Forget I said anything. Let me buy you a drink! What are you having?" Charlie rose from his stool. "He is having expensive vodka, and you can have my chair. Did you come with Jessica?" "Yeah, I think she went to the bathroom. Why?" Charlie smirked and headed in Jessica's direction. "No reason." Meghan sat beside Mike and ordered an Amarillo sour. "And whatever he's having." She scanned the bar. "Anyone good tonight so far?" Mike finished his drink. "Let's see, I saw ... A definite meth head, a probable meth head and at least one transvestite. But that was just at Charlie's apartment." Meghan burst out laughing. Mike was almost 40 and twice-divorced, and she could see why women fell for him. He made up for his homeliness with wicked wit. He was a fantastic people-watching partner. "New bartender," Meghan said as her two drinks arrived. "She flirt with you yet?" "Thanks for the drink. I told her I was flat broke so she shouldn't bother. And have you seen the boots she's got on? I think she's more likely to flirt with you." Meghan shrugged and gulped her drink. "Nothing wrong with that." Two hours and who knows how many drinks later, Meghan rushed to Mike's side. Woody's was packed and booming, she had to yell the news into his ear. "Dude, you were right! The bartender from Joe's is here and she's definitely a lez!" Mike frowned and shook his head. "Lez, really? Aren't young people supposed to be tolerant?" Meghan stuck out her tongue and shot him the finger. Then she rummaged through her phone, stumbled next to him and took a Snapchat to send to her buddies. That's when Meghan saw Jessica and Charlie across the crowded room. They stood close to each other and she looked enthralled, flipping her hair and smiling at Charlie as he leaned in to hear her. Meghan felt her face heat up. She said goodbye to Mike and marched up to the two of them, grabbing Jessica's arm. "Can I talk to you for a second?" She drug her friend toward the bathroom without waiting for an answer. Charlie shot a "hey, you still look hot!" As he watched them go. "What have you and Charlie been talking about all night?" "Wow, jealous," Jessica scoffed. "Don't WORRY, I'm not trying to STEAL him. I just let him know that I think you two would be really cute together." Meghan's round face took on a tomato hue. "What the fuck?" Jessica laughed. "Yep! And I also told him I am too drunk to drive you home tonight so HE will just have to." Meghan fought the butterflies in her stomach. "Jessica!" She moaned, stretching out the last vowel. "I told you I don't want that!" Jessica patted her arm and furrowed her brow. "And I believe you, honey. So prove it!" Then she left Meghan alone. Meghan looked back at Charlie. He was watching her, grinning and sipping his beer. He raised his eyebrows at her. Meghan shot him a weak smile and walked over. "Dude, I think Jessica is trying to set us up. You guys know I have a girlfriend, right?" "Just ... Can you take me home, Charlie? I'm too drunk and I don't feel well." Charlie drained his beer. "Yeah, that's fine. Just don't try anything on the way there." Megan tripped half a dozen times on her heels during the six-block walk to Charlie's car. His sniggers got louder every time. "You know you can just do the drunk girl walk. Shoes in one hand, phone in the other. I won't judge you. But I also won't protect you from muggers." Meghan cursed him under her breath. She'd been about to pull them off - they bit her feet badly - but now she had to wear them just to spite Charlie. They walked without speaking. A couple passing guys whistled at Meghan; Charlie bowed and thanked them for the compliments. "I don't know what Jessica was talking about back there," she said as they spotted Charlie's black Buick. "I do." Meghan stopped. "What are you talking about?" "Nevermind," Charlie said, unlocking his door and climbing in. "You want the radio on or is music gonna make you puke?" "Fuck off. I don't care." It was a quick ride. Charlie fiddled with the radio dial. Meghan wondered how obvious her crush really was. Her face burned. "For what it's worth," Charlie started, waiting for Meghan to lock eyes with him across the seats. "I think Jessica looked like a cow tonight. She's enormous." Meghan grinned against her will. "Fuck off, Charlie, you love her." She turned the radio to her favorite country station. "But yes, I definitely blew her away." "Oh GOD, if you start singing I'll throw you out of the car. I swear to god." Meghan burst out a deliberately twangy, off-key rendering of the song and cranked the volume on the radio. Charlie swerved, reached for her door. She slapped him and giggled. "Should you even be driving?" She whined as they pulled up outside her house. "Come inside and have some water." "Yes, mom. Whoa, no car? Where's Hailey the Hippy?" Meghan's keys jingled in the empty night. "Hailey ... I think she's at her boyfriend's house. Actually I think all my roommates are gone tonight. Whatever." They crossed the threshold. Meghan turned her back on Charlie, locked the door. She felt him tap her shoulder and turned. There he was. They were standing so close. Meghan was eye-level at Charlie's chest. She felt all the air leave the room when she turned upward and - He kissed her. Not a peck but an open-mouthed kiss, tilting her chin back with three fingers. Atlas Meghan's heart turned to ice. Then lava. She felt nothing, everything. She let him kiss her and then she kissed him back. They stood like that for nearly a minute. Meghan felt her legs shake - she was shaking all over. For some reason she couldn't stop thinking of Mike and the lesbian bartender. She tried to count how many drinks she'd had - how many Charlie'd had. And she kissed and kissed and kept on kissing. Charlie gently pushed Meghan's back against the door. He wrapped a hand in her hair and tugged, exposing her neck. Meghan shivered as he kissed it gently. "Charlie, what are you DOING?" She whispered. Tried halfheartedly to push him away. Charlie grinned and kept kissing, breathing on her neck. He grabbed both her arms with one of his and pinned them above her against the door. Meghan giggled. She still didn't believe what was happening. Surely she passed out in the car and was just having a VERY nice dream. And surely if it was real - if Charlie had finally bothered to notice her, felt the need that practically hung off her every time they shared the same air - surely they would stop, right? But Charlie didn't stop. He pulled his hand from her hair and moved it lower, stroking her breasts and stomach as he made his way to the bottom of her shirt - "No!" She giggled, out of breath. Charlie pulled away. He looked hurt. They were both breathing heavily. Meghan tried to bring her arms down. Charlie smiled and held his grip. He started kissing her again; she pulled away. "Do you really want to ... do this, Charlie?" He leaned in, breathing on her ear to make her whole body tingle. "You are so beautiful, Meghan." She melted. He was drunk and horny, she was drunk and horny, and it was just a line to get into her pants. But Meghan melted all the same. She turned her head and kissed his cheek. "Not here." Charlie kissed her hard and let go of her arms. Wordlessly she knelt, pulled off her shoes and took his hand. In less than 20 seconds they had locked the door to her bedroom. He started on her right away, pulling her hair a little harder to open her neck. Without her heels Meghan was even smaller, craning her neck and cooing. "You look so fucking good. You always do." Heat rose to her already burning face. Meghan had nothing to say. Instead she pulled at his shirt, convincing him to pull it off. "Wow," Meghan managed when the deed was done. She stared straight at a broad chest and nearly perfect abdomen. Suddenly she felt an urge to bite Charlie's small nipples; she fought it. Charlie kissed her again and again through a wide grin. He spun her around and knelt, unbuttoning her jeans in a swift motion and pulling them to the floor. "Jesus fuck, Meghan," he whispered as she stepped out of her pants and kicked them away. She giggled as he planted kisses and bites on her shapely ass. "Do you like it? I've been doing the leg workout you showed me - Ah!" "Couldn't help it, baby." Meghan turned and pulled Charlie back to her. She kissed his chest. "You can spank me whenever, Charlie." He did just that as they kissed, palming her ass and hitting it with lazy swats. Meghan squeaked with glee every time. "Mmm, you're very ... possessive," she moaned. "I like it." Charlie pushed her to the bed and pulled her shirt and jacket off. Meghan had opted against a bra on bar night; he swore when her C-cup breasts tumbled into view. "Get on the bed right now, Meghan." She giggled. It was cute how turned on he was. "Or what? Ohhhhhh, Charlie..." He alternated rough squeezes and kisses on her breasts. Meghan closed her eyes but the room started spinning. Instead she focused on a mole on Charlie's chest and tried to convince herself it was real. At some point Meghan fell to the bed with Charlie on top of her. Somebody was sweating - maybe both of them. It was a cool night but the room felt molten. "Wow," Meghan breathed. She had stopped Charlie's dry-humping long enough to reach into his pants. "Good for you." "That's what they all say," Charlie said. He felt Meghan freeze beneath him. Suddenly the night sunk in for Meghan. She almost felt sick. But other parts of her ... "Wait, Charlie, stop." She pushed him off her. "I can't do this." Charlie stood with his pants around his ankles. He blinked for a second and tried to climb back on the brunette below him. "Charlie seriously, don't." "What the fuck?" "Yeah, what the fuck, Charlie? I can't ... " "Yes you can, baby." He put her hand on the bulge in his boxer briefs. Meghan felt the heat between her legs pulse. "Charlie, I really want to, and if you were single I'd ... I'd do it." "Come on, man," He jumped up. "You're gonna look like THAT and tell me NOW?" "Hey, don't blame ME, Charlie. You kissed ME. I didn't want this to happen." Charlie scoffed. "Yeah, sure." They stayed still for a moment, silent. Meghan covered her breasts with her hands and sat up on the bed. Charlie kicked his pants off. "At least finish what you started." "What does that even mean?" Charlie yanked off his underwear. His long, narrow cock jutted out at Meghan. He grinned. "Come on." "Are you fucking serious? I'm NOT gonna blow you, Charlie." He walked closer, dangling his dick in her face. "Use your hands. I don't care. You can't just leave me like this IF we're really friends." Meghan stared at the meat in front of her. It looked ridiculous like that. Her killer glare met Charlie's wide smile. Nobody spoke. "You're fucking ridiculous," she spat. Then she grabbed Charlie's cock. "Ah, not like that! Lay on your stomach." "You're gonna boss me around now?" "Just do it, please, Meghan. It'll look really hot." Meghan flushed. All the heat rushed back to her body. She shot Charlie doe eyes and slowly laid on her stomach, resting her face and hands at crotch level. She kept her eyes there and pumped him with one hand. "You wanna see my ass, don't you?" Charlie groaned. Meghan's body managed to be both tight and round. A thin pink thong was the only thing keeping her from nudity. Her butt jiggled just a tiny bit with every tug on his cock. "More than see it, babe." Meghan suppressed a smile. "I'm getting less mad at you." She ran her trim fingernails around Charlie's shaft. "What's the matter, Charlie? Nothing to say?" Meghan's chestnut eyes stared up at Charlie. She watched his reactions with a hint of a smile . His breathing had quickened. "You're actually pretty good at this." "Ha ha. I've learned a few things." She held eye contact with him and moved her head closer. Meghan licked a bead of precum off the tip of Charlie, swirling her tongue before pulling back. Her spit slickened Charlie, and Meghan's hand rubbed faster. Charlie's toes curled into the rug. He closed his eyes and took deep, steady breaths. "I know guys do that when they're trying not to cum, Charlie." "So shut up and let me not cum." No response, until Charlie felt her lips on him. "God dammit, Meghan ..." She used light suction on the first few inches and let her spit drip down, speeding her thrusts. Charlie heard the small noises that come with every good blowjob. He was close. "Meghan, I have a favor to ask you." "I'm sorry, is this not enough?" He smiled and opened one eye. "What are the chances you'll lick my ... you know?" Charlie drew a sharp breath. Meghan cradled his full balls in one hand. "Oh," she said, and her Midwestern accent elongated the word. "That'll cost you. Say please." "Fuck - AH!" Her grip tightened. "Okay, fuck, stop. Please Meghan." Slow, sliding tugs on his cock. "Please what?" Charlie turned red. He wasn't as drunk as he thought. "Please lick my balls." Meghan flipped over on the bed, and Charlie - who had opened his eyes, he had to see her do this - immediately noticed the soaked underwear between her legs. Her fat brown nipples were harder than he was. "It would be my pleasure." She hadn't even taken her hand off him. But suddenly Charlie watched Meghan loll her head over the bed and pull him closer. She lapped a few times at his nuts. "Come on, you can do better than that." "Do NOT talk shit to me right now, Charlie, I will do serious damage." He went silent above her. Meghan breathed his sweaty odor, pumped his iron dick and licked dutifully. She tried to focus on her own arousal. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so ... ready. But after a few seconds the doubts crept in. What was she doing? He had a girlfriend. Did she have bad breath right now? Was this even the way to help someone cheat? Shouldn't he be doing this for her? Meghan pushed them aside. For the moment, it felt right. She was making him happy, and she was happy, and he was - "Oh, fuck." Spraying cum onto her chest and neck. Meghan kept pumping. She felt rope after rope drop onto her while Charlie groaned from above. Then the smaller bits. They dripped off Charlie and leaked onto her chin, nose and hair. She felt his balls tighten and then grow slack. He was finished. Charlie opened his eyes. Meghan's round body was streaked with his load. He pulled back from her and his half-hard cock flopped onto her face, leaving a print of spit and semen as he dragged it away. Charlie laughed. "Oh my GOD," Meghan sputtered. "You are SUCH an asshole." "Did you say asshole? Yeah, I'm down. Bend over." Meghan, who had wasted no time in sucking cum from her fingers, froze. But she was already beginning to regret what they'd done. "Fuck you. Go get me a Kleenex." Charlie finally did have his water. They drank silently in Meghan's kitchen, neither one speaking to or looking at the other. Meghan had thrown sweatpants and a sports bra on. She wanted desperately to sit on Charlie's lap. Instead she kept busy straightening her cupboards. She felt his eyes on her every time she bent over or turned around. "I thought maybe you'd cool it with the perv stuff after that." She turned to him. Charlie looked annoyed for just a second - then he flashed his grin. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just checking out your ... peanut butter." "Ugh. Are you sober yet?" He set his glass down on her kitchen counter and headed for the door. Meghan loped behind him and watched him put his shoes on. Charlie stood and stared at Meghan. She flicked her eyes downward and shifted from foot to foot. She waited but no kiss came. Charlie reached for the door. "Oh, he said," turning back. Meghan gave him a hopeful look. "I'm not gonna kiss you because ..." He mimed rain drops falling on his face. Meghan laughed a little too forcefully. "Whatever. Goodnight, Charlie. Go to sleep." He did. But Meghan couldn't sleep - instead she spent the night on her couch, watching TV and thinking.