General Chemistry II Ch. 01

This series is a sequel. It isn't necessary to read the first General Chemistry to enjoy this one but they are meant to be read in order. If you enjoy this first chapter, I'd recommend going back to the very start.

General Chemistry II has more characters, relationships, and sex than part I, and chapters are much longer. This isn't a quick story. There are 10k words before the first sex scene. Although it's focused on dialogue and growth, you will be rewarded with many sloppy and excessive sex scenes throughout the series.

Contents: The first stories are Erotic Couplings, but the series is principally Group Sex. Neurotic MC, big dick nerd, athletic bodies, tension and release. Realism is not my priority.

~

I sat in a comfortable but stained armchair in the Madrid airport, away from the automatic doors that endlessly discharged the dazed arrivals but close enough to the cafe to smell the espresso and hear the hiss of the machines. It was barely 7 AM and I'd just started on my third cup.

I was exhausted. It felt like my skeleton was rubbing against my insides all wrong. I was alone, which was good in that I would probably be lousy company right now, but bad because it meant the only person available to deal with my bullshit was me.

Pri had dumped me and now I was in Spain. That was the short version, anyway.

I wasn't sure I'd even pieced together the long version yet. There was the sendoff at the end of Spring semester where we'd assured each other that long-distance was tough but doable. There were FaceTimes and texts each day, every day, until suddenly they were every two days, then every three. Then the dead-faced emojis. Sterile haha's. We "fought" a few times about communication, as if that was the actual problem.

One month after we'd hugged goodbye on campus, Pri said that we should take a break. I knew what that meant. I had the choice between a blubbering meltdown and going numb. Going numb had always seemed more dignified somehow. Manly, you know, with your insides boiling. Like Hemingway.

A few weeks later, Liv invited me on her birthday trip abroad. I knew Pri would be there. They were best friends. I said no. Of course I said no. And yet, somehow, in opposition to all logic and my emotional wellbeing, I was here anyway. My grandpa used to say that "wonders never cease." I'd spent a lot of time trying to figure out what the inverse of that saying was. "Catastrophes never end," maybe. Or "life sucks, and then you die."

I felt a phantom vibration in my pocket. I'd been getting them for weeks, that feeling you get when you're sure you've got a notification but there's really nothing there. I was surprised to see Marco's text in the vacation chat.

got our bags, it said. where r you

I spotted them just as doors slid open, laughing and smiling and dragging their rolling suitcases. I'm not sure if Marco and Grace knew each other that well, but it made sense for them to fly together. Though their flight time from North Carolina was a lot longer than mine had been from Connecticut, they each seemed oddly energized. I envied and hated them for it, then packed those feelings up and shoved it down into my stomach with everything else.

Marco was Liv's boyfriend, a tall, lean glass of water with brown hair that always seemed tousled in a just-woken-up kind of way. He was a tennis instructor during the summer and he somehow looked more fit and tanned than last time I'd seen him. He was one of the most outrageously handsome guys I'd ever met, but he was also just nice. It was almost enough to make piss you off.

He flashed me a big, perfectly white smile as I stood to greet them, then smothered me in a hug.

"Qué tal, amigo? Or did you not bother to learn any Spanish?"

I clapped him weakly on the back, the gloom lifting just a little bit. More than I could have expected, it was really good to see him. "I haven't learned a thing, man. Can't even remember the French I actually took."

He shook his head playfully.

Marco and I had a strange relationship. We weren't exactly friends, but we weren't not friends either. Though Liv was the actual link between us, we'd developed a flirty little bromance. Just for jokes, of course.

I guess it would be a good time to mention that during Spring semester, Marco, Liv, Pri, and I were having a lot of casual group sex. You know, as you do. We'd established that Pri was my girlfriend, and Liv was Marco's, but it was allowed for Marco to stop over at Pri's dorm for a quick fuck, for me to spend the night in Liv's bed, or for Liv to go down on Pri after soccer practice. When our schedules aligned, we'd get three or even all four of us together. It was the most exciting time of my life, not that it was particularly close.

Marco was cool as a cucumber through the whole fucking thing. We'd never said it out loud, but I thought we each appreciated the way the other guy handled it. No nerves, no jealousy. I guess there was some kind of polyamorous terminology that described our connection but in the end I just thought of him as "Liv's guy."

I turned to Grace and made a decent attempt at a smile. "Hey, good flight?"

Grace smiled back so hard I thought she'd explode. She was Liv's friend (or was it Pri's?), a Chinese girl with bright eyes and big rosy cheeks. Without an outlet for her energy, she shot her hand into the air and high-fived me so hard that her wireframe glasses slipped all the way down her nose. She popped them back up with two fingers.

"I-can't-believe-we're-in-Spain!" she blurted, wiggling in place. "When do the others land? It's not for hours, isn't it? God, I wanna hit the road so fucking bad. I need sun. Oh, and I've got this amazing playlist..."

"Well, we've got--" Marco flicked his wrist and checked his watch, the fitness kind that measured your steps and vitals. "An hour and half to kill, plus they still need to go through passport control. I'm down bad on caffeine."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, same!" said Grace. She caught herself with a jolt, then took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, maybe just a juice for me."

I just gestured towards the cafe. As they walked away, I tried to remember what I knew about her. She was older than me, at least a junior but maybe a senior, and she was a student-athlete. The deep, bronze tan on her neck and arms confirmed that one, though what sport I couldn't recall. Tall for a woman and broad at the hips and shoulders, she had the sort of frame that you'd usually find in tough girl sports like rugby or field hockey, which I guess is just another way of saying she was thick. Her major eluded me for a minute before I remembered she was going to be a translator. French and Spanish maybe, and Chinese that she learned at home.

As they lined up to order, the primitive part of my mind pushed to the surface, watching her a little too closely. She wore polka dot pajama bottoms and a cropped t-shirt that draped from her large breasts, showing just a glimpse of pale, chubby stomach below. Her muscular ass shifted from side to side beneath the thin fabric. I pulled my duffel bag into my lap. Despite my gray mood, my cock started to thicken down the leg of my shorts. Fucking embarrassing. These days, I felt like horny and anxious were the only feelings I still had.

Soon after, Grace plopped down in a nearby chair, yipping and holding her orange juice high in the air. I thought about saying something in the way of conversation but I didn't really want to get her started. Though we'd only met a few times, I remembered her as someone who was unable to shut up.

Marco stood close by, carefully sipping his coffee. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation. In that moment, I thought he reminded me of one of those famous American actors who go overseas to do commercials. Brad Pitt selling watches in Singapore, that kind of thing.

"Good to the last drop," I said without meaning to. He gave me a look and I shook my head like I have no idea.

"Alright then," he said with his perfect smile. "Keep your secrets. I'm going to check on the car. Make sure they, you know, have it or whatever. Wanna come?"

"Nah, I'm good," I said in what I hoped was a normal way. In truth, I was still half-hard from ogling Grace and if I stood up it would be obvious. He just nodded. It didn't occur to me until after he'd walked away that it was an odd request.

"So, Pri's gonna be late?" asked Grace as Marco disappeared from sight. "I mean, you wouldn't catch me being two days late to my Spanish vacation. We were delayed at the gate by like ten minutes and I was already feeling some type of way."

"Mhm. She had plans already but she'll be here."

"Ya, Liv told me. Indian weddings are wild, ya know? I can barely handle my family for an afternoon. To put up with them for three days is just crazy-bananas."

"Yep. Yeppers." I wasn't sure what to say. I knew that the topic of Pri would come up but I was somehow not prepared for it. I also assumed that she'd talk to everyone and get my humiliation done in advance. Grace did not seem to have gotten the memo. "They, uh, they don't do bridesmaids apparently. But she said she'd have been one if they did."

"That's cool, I guess. I don't know her that well but she seems cool. Wish she was here from the start. Not as much as you probably, but still."

"Yup..." Oof, right in the amygdala. How do I even start? "I actually haven't seen her since school ended--"

I paused, struck by cold realization: Pri and I had been broken up for longer than we'd actually been together. The knot of anxiety in my stomach throbbed. I wished I could get high, or drunk, or go to sleep, anything to stop this feeling.

"Wow, that's total shit. I didn't realize. How's it going? Lots of FaceTiming?"

"We're taking a break." My chest was tight. "We're not..."

"Oh," she said. "Oh." She looked at me like I was a mangy puppy on the side of the road. It was a little gratifying to finally receive some pity.

"We did--We're doing--our best. With the distance." I scratched the back of my head, searching for better words than those. "I don't know. It sucks."

"It sucks," she agreed softly. Then her eyes narrowed. "But she's coming here still? Are you guys gonna...?"

Gonna what? Get back together? Fight? Fuck? Ruin the vacation? I really didn't know her well enough for this conversation.

"This is totally not my business, is it?" She must have read my face. "Big yikes, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking nosy. Don't listen to me."

"Hey, it's okay. I don't really know myself. I'll let you know when I find out."

Whether she was embarrassed or tired or just wistful, she stared off into space for a beat. "God, I need a boyfriend."

"Oh, uh..."

"Shit, I'm not trying to blah all over you. You've got enough problems. I was just thinking, like, you were really cute together. Are cute together. Will be cute? I'm sorry! I don't know what I'm saying..."

"Thanks. I guess." She seemed to mean well and I didn't want to leave her hanging. "I thought you had a boyfriend. You're popular with guys, aren't you?"

"Sort of mean but okay..."

"What? No--not like that. I'm just saying what I heard." The mood had flipped and she laughed as I fumbled. "People like you. Boys like you. You're cool and shit"

You're cool and shit? I was babbling like an idiot.

She rolled her eyes and made a noise that I could barely describe.

"Blech. It could be going better. You know I went out with one of those Andrew Tate guys for a bit? What the hell was I thinking?

She was, in fact, blahing all over me. I wondered how to defuse the conversation.

"Did you know I have a roommate--"

"Pass," she said. Somehow a laugh popped out of me, and Grace smiled so big her dimples showed. "That guy Morrison, right? Liv told me about him. No offense."

"None taken." Sorry Mo, I tried. "Hey, maybe you'll meet somebody here. Tall, handsome Spaniard. Your hands meet as you're reaching for a margarita. Sparks fly."

"Did you know what the house is like?" she asked abruptly. "Liv just kept saying it'd be a surprise and boy, do I fucking hate surprises!"

"Uh, yeah. I saw it. Sort of."

"What the hell does that mean?" she laughed.

"I saw the outside."

"What?" She slid forward dramatically. "What's it like? Is it big? Is it super fucking nice?"

"It's a mansion-y thing behind a big yellow wall. I did the Google street-view thing but it doesn't show that much. It's beautiful though, right near the ocean. You want to see?"

"Duh!"

In a flash she was sitting on my armrest, leaning over me. I found the view again but it didn't reveal much more than I'd already described. The side of her breast, warm and soft, pressed against my shoulder. If I didn't already know she was the touchy-feely type, I'd think she was all over me.

Up close, her chest was that much bigger, large enough to bury your face in. What did they look like? I strained to catch a glimpse but her sports bra held everything high and tight. Her t-shirt bulged a little bit where the flesh of her tit spilled over the elastic.

Ick. I shifted in my seat and she pulled away. A prickle of shame traveled down my neck. I felt tired and gross, perving on a person I didn't really know, and even worse on someone I had to spend the next two weeks with. My cock was stiff and faintly throbbing, and I was glad for the coverage of my bag. It was annoying how fucking hot she was.

Grace sighed dramatically as she dropped back into her chair. She pursed her lips at me and the moment stretched on for a few seconds.

"Waiting sucks," she groaned finally.

I gave her my best shrug and unlocked my phone.

~

It was an accident that I was the first to spot Kay and Sylvie. They were leaning against their suitcases, looking around the terminal for us. Even at a distance they looked wiped out.

"Hey," I said to Grace, tapping on the armrest. "That's them right?"

"Yep!" Grace practically shouted, bolting to her feet and abandoning me with the bags.

Although I'd never met them, I recognized Kay right away. She was tall, easily over six feet and visibly taller than everyone around her. She had a pixie cut, hair even shorter than mine, dyed so blonde it was almost white. Dark roots had started showing underneath. The small girl next to her had to be Sylvie. More than once, Liv had called Kay a "giraffe ass bitch" in the chat, and the way she towered over her shorter friend was almost comical.

Grace almost knocked over an unlucky traveler as she barreled towards them. The girls could hardly miss her and prepped themselves with tired smiles. Sylvie and Kay could never hope to match Grace's energy, but they tried, raising their arms in a parody of excitement. After a moment of hugs and shouting, Grace started to lead them back to the cafe.

"Hi, I'm Jack," I said, standing to meet them. My arm jerked at my side, unsure if I should shake hands or simply wave. I ended up doing neither.

"You're the friend from school," said Sylvie. Her voice was surprisingly raspy, and her tone landed somewhere between bored and pissed. Despite her severe expression, she was pretty cute: curly brown hair draped over each shoulder, pale skin, high cheeks with a button nose. She was almost doll-like. A little less doll-like was the bull ring septum piercing, thick, shiny chrome, that hung from that nose. She adjusted it absently.

"Yeah. And you must be Sylvie."

"And I must? Must I? Who the fuck talks like that?"

"Um, okay..."

"Ignore her," said Grace. "She turns into a little goblin when she's tired."

Sylvie huffed but didn't disagree.

"Kay," said the tall girl, making a choppy wave from her waist. Her forearm was tattooed up to the elbow in a kind of staticky grayscale pattern. Whether it was natural or just makeup, her eyelids were very dark, and she regarded everything with a cool, sleepy sort of look. "Nice to meet, name to a face, all-a-that."

"Same here," I said, still feeling tight but trying to be friendly. "I've heard a lot about you, etcetera and so on. Good stuff, promise. So, we should find Marco. He's been getting the car for like two hours. He might be lying in a ditch or something. Do either of you need coffee or d'you just wanna go?"

Kay flexed her eyebrows and dramatically worked her mouth, like she was testing if everything still worked. Despite her aura of indifference, her gaze was somehow intense. When she looked at me, I felt oddly like I was being observed, like when you suddenly lock eyes with someone watching you from across a crowded room.

"Had the beverage cart shit," she said. "Two cups. I'm good."

"So," said Sylvie. "We can get the fuck out of here?"

"Vamos!" added Grace with such gusto that even Sylvie had to laugh.

It took some phone tag to track Marco down. When he'd gone to check on the car, it turned out to be available, right then. He'd accepted the keys and found himself alone in the parking lot before he realized he'd left his bags and everyone else far behind.

On our way to the car, the girls naturally drifted together while I fell back behind. Grace and Sylvie chatted animatedly, catching up since they'd last seen each other, with Kay occasionally adding a word or two. I lost track of the conversation quickly. It seemed like they'd forgotten I was back there.

In that moment, Grace reminded me painfully of Pri. With her thick, athletic legs and wide hips swinging side to side, she would occasionally bounce up and down when something excited her. Unlike Pri's thick curls, Grace's hair was thin and heavy and straight.

Sylvie, on the other hand, was tiny. She easily dragged her huge bag behind her and I figured she must work out, though she didn't seem student-athlete-y. I'd been so distracted that I didn't notice how smartly she was dressed: a pair of peach slacks, a sleeveless blouse, and stylish sandals. She looked like a CEO at a garden party, almost wealthy-casual. Altogether it had the effect of making her seem larger than she actually was.

Kay was like no one I had ever met. Brooding, her outfit was both artsy and masculine in a way that felt very New York. Her black corduroy shorts were cuffed at mid-thigh, thip-thip-thipping with each step, and she wore a fanny pack across the chest of a frayed band t-shirt. Her shoulders were broad, bulging noticeably with the muscle of a basketball or volleyball player. More than a few of her black-ink tattoos were visible from my position behind her. They were mostly geometric, like the solid black band around her upper arm or a fractal-type pattern on the back of her neck. On her left leg was a sketched octopus with gripping tentacles, some reaching down her calf into her white tennis shoes, others rising all the way up her thigh.

I was so caught up cataloging Kay's tattoos that I missed someone saying my name. Looking up like a frightened deer, Sylvie rolled her eyes while Grace laughed. Whoever spoke didn't repeat themself.

We finally found Marco loitering in the Departures lane, dozens of cars and taxis zipping around him and the gray crossover he'd rented.

He knew them all already, giving Sylvie an especially big hug before patiently directing our bags into predetermined trunk spots. We even had assigned seating. The man gave off serious dad-vibes from time to time, but we were glad that someone was taking over. When a cop approached to hurry us along, Marco soothed him in rapid Spanish, ending with both men grinning.

I found myself in the backseat, with Grace opposite and Sylvie squished between us. Kay was stretched out as best she could in the front. When Marco slid into the driver's, I touched his shoulder.

"What'd you say to him?"

"Oh, uh..."

It was Grace who answered. "He said he was collecting all his girlfriends." Of course, she wanted to be a translator.

"What'd the cop say?" I asked.

"He asked about you," laughed Marco. "I told him you're here for when I get tired."

Sylvie, the tiniest smile on her face, reached into the front and slapped him lightly on the cheek.

~

"Hey Marco, when's the last time you saw Olivia? In person I mean."

We'd been on the highway for 45 minutes, deep in the desert, listening to what I was confident was the LoFi study beats playlist. The time had been mostly filled with smalltalk about the flights and the landscape and various places we had or hadn't been. There were groans when I told them I'd never been outside of the US before. Fuck me for being poor I guess.

Marco sighed. "Well, she left for London in June, so like two full months. Hard to believe when you say it out loud like that."

"I bet you miss her, huh?"

Marco checked Sylvie in his mirror with some skepticism. "Of course..."

"Did you send her any sexy--"

"La-la-la, I can't hear you!" he practically shouted, but he didn't quite drown out the low register of Sylvie's voice.

"--sexy, sexy photos?" she finished with shit-eating grin.

"Grace, can you do me a favor and tickle the shit out of big mouth?"

Before I could even react, Grace and Sylvie were yelling and grabbing at each other, Sylvie's back mashing against me for leverage.

"You did it to yourself!" laughed Grace, pinching at Sylvie's arms and ribs and the inside of her thighs.

"No, no, no, no!" said Sylvie desperately, trying to cover herself and push Grace away at the same time. The larger girl was far too strong and coordinated to be stopped, and the assault went on until Sylvie's pale face flushed bright red. "Stop, stop, stop, stop it!"

The final Stop it was so harsh that Grace abruptly pulled back. It felt like the moment had gone too far, and even though Grace and Marco were still laughing, Sylvie seemed genuinely pissed. She sat rigidly between us, staring straight ahead and breathing hard through her nose.

The car went quiet for a bit, ten seconds, then twenty, with only the sound of everyone catching their breath.

"Sexy photos?" I asked.

Sylvie's stern face morphed slowly into a smile. Her incisors were sharp and made her seem almost foxlike. Then she started to laugh, a low, bizarre hehehe, the oddness of which sent the car back into fits.

"He doesn't know about Sylvie, does he?" Kay asked Marco between breaths.

"I dunno," he said. "I thought Pri told him. Jack, did she tell you about us?"

Somehow all the attention was back on me. Pri and I were barely speaking at all, much less about whatever the Marco/Sylvie connection was.

"Not really," I said after a too-long pause. "Just that you were all cool. The girls I mean, I already know him."

There was weird silence before Sylvie, having mostly caught her breath, filled the air.

"Well, Pri should have prepped you," she said. She cleared her throat into her fist. "It's no good for one party to enter into a birthday trip without discovery. Shall I--"

"She's prelaw," said Marco. "Fucking insufferable."

"--assuming he knows nothing," Sylvie continued. "May I explain?"

The others all spoke at once.

"Not you," said Kay.

"Let's do it together," said Grace.

"Unreliable narrator," said Marco.

"Oh, fine," said Sylvie, a little put off but seeming no worse for wear after the tickling fiasco. "But I get to start at least. You want to take notes?" She looked at me so expectantly that I thought she might be serious.

"Just go already," said Marco.

"For starters," said Sylvie. "Kay is non-binary, so don't say 'she.'"

"They/them is fine," said Kay without turning around.

She--they--just continued staring at their phone. I wasn't sure if it was actual nonchalance or they were pretending not to make a big deal out of it. I didn't know any nonbinary people, at least I didn't know if I did. I did know that I was going to fuck up the pronouns at some point. There must have been an unsteady look on my face. Sylvie looked concerned.

"Ew, you're not one of them, are you?"

"One of what?" I asked, but I had a guess. A homophobe, or a TERF, or whatever the hell an anti-non-binary person is called. "I'm not one of them. Kay, if I make a mistake it's because it's new to me. I'll do as good as I can."

Kay gave me a studiously neutral look but didn't say anything.

"He's okay," said Marco. "We untaught him a bunch of shit already. He might seem aggressively cishet but he's actually--" He cut himself off and stared ahead, pretending he hadn't started talking. Of all the options, bailing mid-sentence was the worst.

"Oooh!" said Grace, looking excited. "He's actually what?" She studied me dramatically, trying to puzzle it out.

"Bi-curious," said Sylvie like it was obvious. "Or into traps."

"Don't say traps," said Kay.

"I don't say traps. It's what he would say."

"I'm not into traps. I mean--shit, I'm not into things. I'm nothing."

"Oh buddy," said Marco, shaking his head. "Being a straight white guy is not being 'nothing' and when you say it like that you're making the assumption that what you are is the default."

"I... that is an amazing point. I'm sorry. I won't say that anymore."

Marco glanced around the car with his palm up as if to say See? He's housebroken.

"'We can rebuild him,'" I said.

"'We have the technology,'" replied Kay. "I'm much more into Linda Carter, but we like it."

Sylvie was not impressed. "What's this? More film studies shit?"

"I guess," said Kay.

"But he's actually... what?" To my dismay, Grace hadn't lost the thread. "If he was just straight-cis-whatever then Marco wouldn't have done whatever the hell he just did."

"I'm open," I said. That was true enough, and it's not like I could say I was into swinging. It sounded like something gross from the 70s.

"You're open?" asked Sylvie. "Is that code for bi? Or--"

"Butt stuff," said Grace. "Receiving or giving?"

Sylvie laughed roughly. "Femdom. Check him for nipple clamps."

"I'm not..." I stumbled. "I don't have--"

"Hentai. Tentacle porn. Futanari," Grace listed with visible enjoyment. "The eating fetish thing, where, like, giant women eat tiny little men."

"That's a thing?" asked Marco.

"Furry stuff," said Sylvie. "Yiffing."

Grace laughed and made a growl low in her throat.

"Okay, bitches," said Kay wearily. "Leave him alone."

"I'll just ask Pri," said Sylvie. Some chemical reaction occurred in the air. "What? What's that face?"

"Nothing," said Grace.

"You made a face. I can't ask Pri?"

"No, you can..."

"We're on a break," I said, too loudly. "Or we broke up, I don't know."

"Wait, what?" asked Marco. "What the fuck?"

Marco didn't know. It seemed impossible, but somehow he didn't know already.

"Oo, drama," said Sylvie. "Why are you here then?"

"He's my friend," snapped Marco. "Don't be a bitch."

"Liv invited me," I said weakly.

"And she knows you and Pri broke up?"

"On a break," said Grace.

"On a break, whatever." Sylvie fluttered her hand. "I feel like the best friend gets priority. Was she just being nice? Like the invitation wasn't serious?"

"What are you trying to accomplish?" asked Marco. "He's here. Do you want him to go home? Should I turn around?"

I burned under Sylvie's stare. "Liv knows," I said. "Pri told me to come. Liv practically ordered me."

"Oh," said Sylvie. Her mood changed entirely. "You're getting back together." It wasn't a question. "Trap you together in a foreign country. Little bit of wine, sparks fly."

"Bottle episode," said Kay for some reason.

I couldn't pretend the thought hadn't crossed my mind, but it was just loneliness talking, or horniness, or some romantic longing. I didn't say anything about how she froze me out, dismissed me, ghosted me for days at a time just to reply with Sorry I was busy. It'd felt like she was trying to hurt me on purpose. That, or she was so clueless about her effect on me that it came out the same. I wasn't sure I could get back together with Pri and maintain any kind of self-respect.

"Yeah, maybe," I said, but the conversation had already shifted away.

"It's all about angles," said Grace. "Straight up, nothing worse than an unflattering dick pic. Like, respect your craft dude."

"Marco was great at that," said Sylvie. "Oh right! The photos!"

"Marco and Sylvie dated," said Grace. "In high school. They met at some nerd thing and did long-distance."

"North Carolina to New York for all of senior year. That was fun," said Marco.

"Model UN," said Kay, as though this was the crucial detail. "They always have these great stories but I went to watch it one year and it was lame as fuck."

"Model UN is not lame," said Sylvie. "You're thinking of FBLA."

"I don't know what that is but it also sounds lame as fuck."

"But you're still friends?" I asked Sylvie. "Even though...?"

"Even though Marco's my ex? And? You're crashing your ex's vacation. What's weirder to you?"

"Enough with that shit," said Marco.

"Be nice to him," said Grace. "He's obviously still grieving." She reached across Sylvie to pat my forearm. "Don't listen to her, she has resting bitch personality."

Kay chuckled.

"Anyway, the photos," said Sylvie. "Imagine sweet, cherubic high school Marco, long-distance with yours truly."

"Model UN," said Kay again, unable to contain the disappointment in their voice. Sylvie kicked the front seat.

"I sent her some photos," said Marco. "Like in the mail. Actual, physical photos. And they were... suggestive."

"Experimental," said Kay approvingly. "Great use of light."

"Literally porn," said Grace.

"Not like that," said Marco.

"You've all seen them?" I asked, a little shocked.

"I think so," said Sylvie. "Except you, seems like."

Marco glanced at me in the mirror again. I'd seen way more of him than just a few suggestive photos but they didn't need to know that.

"I still have some," said Kay. "In a box."

Marco shook his head dolefully.

"Wait..." I said, not sure if I wanted to continue. "Is that... legal?"

"Sharp. He caught it right away," said Sylvie. "The boy was eighteen so we're good there, but he didn't sell them. There was no commerce. I'd say we're in revenge porn territory, legally speaking. Anyway, I destroyed mine."

"It's not revenge porn," said Kay. "It's art."

"It's a misdemeanor is what it is. You oughta destroy them."

"I can keep them, right?" Kay asked Marco flatly. "You gonna turn me in?"

Marco gave them a dry look.

"I'd be freaked out," I said. "Getting them developed I mean. You just take them to Walgreens?"

"No way dude," he said. "They're Polaroids. Like the camera spits them out and you shake it."

"Jack's really thinking about this," said Sylvie. "Looking for new technologies to abuse. Definitely a dick pic guy."

Marco laughed. "Syl, on a long enough timeline, every guy is a dick pic guy."

~

The town of San Cristobal was a bowl of red-tiled roofs nestled between two little mountains and sloping down into the sea. A tiny marina sat at the lowest point, with a smattering of little sailboats bobbing in the teal water. The town center followed a long cobble road covered by bright parasols. As we drove down the side of the mountain they looked like little cocktail umbrellas.

"I think we're up there," I said, pointing across the valley. The side of the opposite mountain was studded with houses, walls, and glittering pools. "That bit of yellow there?"

"Hey, come on man," said Marco. "It's supposed to be a surprise."

"Oh shit. Sorry."

"Jack showed me already," said Grace. "Streetview."

"Same," said Kay. "Squeezed the address out of Liv."

"Well..." Marco was momentarily lost for words. "Shit. Everyone act surprised, okay? Go nuts when you see the place. That's what she wants."

A rolling chorus of "aye captain" filled the car until Marco turned the music up to drown us out.

The GPS directed Marco on to Calle Didion, a tight, well-manicured street that curved steeply up the mountain. It was a dead-end with seven or eight villas. Halfway up was a garish yellow wall with the number 19 in black lettering.

"Hey," said Kay into their cell. "We're pulling up now. Okay. Okay. Yeah, in a minute. She's got a clicker thing."

The metal gate droned and clanged as it slid away. My mouth fell open.

"What the fuck," said Grace, her face pressed against her window.

We scrambled out of the car, practically falling into the gravel before we'd even stopped rolling. The house--no, the villa--was gorgeous: two stories of white plaster, wooden posts, hanging lanterns, and massive shuttered windows. Seemingly every corner and pillar of the place was covered in vines and bright flowers. Tiled paths wound between palms, flowering bushes, and olive trees. It was a garden paradise that happened to have a house at the center.

"I'm sorry," said Sylvie, clearly exasperated. "I wasn't going to say anything, but what the actual fuck? This place must cost a fucking fortune."

Liv came running from around the side of the house, grinning madly and waving her hands. She wore a loose linen shirt, pastel striped and rolled up at the sleeves. Her long, tan legs flashed, and for a moment I thought she was bare-assed until I saw dark bikini bottoms beneath. She barely slowed when her feet hit the gravel, switching to a ginger trot as she crunched towards us, arms out wide to balance herself.

Cheers went up from the group as she crashed into Marco, breathlessly squeezing him around the neck. It took only a second for their hug to turn into a deep, time-stopping kiss. If we all hadn't known that they'd been separated for two months, I'd say it went on for an indecent amount of time.

Without letting go, she looked over his shoulder at us.

"Fuck yes! You made it! How was the trip? Any problems? You're all good?"

Everyone began speaking at once, and the courtyard devolved into laughter and hugs and struggling with rolling bags on the rough terrain. I stood apart from the others, staring up at a towering bush of purple flowers that shivered in the breeze. Parked beneath was a little red car which, I guessed, was Liv's. I strained my ears, hoping to hear the ocean, but raucous greetings and chirping birds drowned everything out.

"Hey Jacky," said Liv, approaching me on the sly. Behind her, the others were walking towards the house with luggage hoisted on their hips, or already inside. "Ya miss me?"

"Obviously," I said. I squared up to get a better look.

It was Liv, but she was unmistakably different. The essence of her Liv-ness was still there, her shitty little smile, her bright eyes, and the steady swing of her narrow hips, but she looked incredible. Where she was once tom-boyish, she was now almost... elegant. Her wavy brown hair had flipped a shade lighter, streaked with sun-bleached blonde, and her tan lines had blended to an all-over honey color. The freckles on her cheeks had darkened, and her eyes seemed a little bigger, a little more intense.

She had always been beautiful. Now, she was stunning.

Instead of the sexual flutter I wanted to feel, there was that too-familiar swell of anxiety. It wasn't that I was the same old college kid, a year older and no wiser, while she'd taken some leap into adulthood. I could handle that.

Liv was my friend, my study buddy. I could fairly say that I'd gotten that far on my own. But everything more than that: the close talks, the sex, the real intimacy, it all flowed through Pri. I was already crushed knowing that Pri didn't want me anymore, but I realized that I wasn't just losing her. I was losing Olivia too. When Pri was finally done with me, Liv would become a girl I once knew.

She hugged me tight and tried to kiss me on the cheek in the Spanish way. Unsure of what to do, I mirrored her and we ended up kissing halfway on the lips. She smirked and slapped me on the ass.

"Don't get fresh with me, kid." She glanced towards the house to see if anyone had seen us. "Missed you too. Maybe I'll steal you away and cheer you up a little bit. After I take care of Marco, of course." She winked lasciviously.

I laughed. "Dumbass."

"How're you handling it all?" she asked. "You look good."

"Well, I haven't wept in the shower for a few days, so okay I guess."

"If you have to, use the outdoor shower. Keeps the noise to a minimum, ya know?" She grinned, but it slowly faded to something more serious. "I'm really glad you came. I know it's a lot. I don't really know what's going on with her. I'd tell you if I did. But she said she wanted you to be here, and obviously I didn't want you to miss my birthday. So, just... thanks. For showing up."

"Of course. It'll be fun," I said, pretty certain that it wouldn't be. When Pri arrived, I expected that I'd be walking around with my heart in my throat. I probably would cry. Not those individual, manly tears either. Bitch tears, sloppy and weak. Fuck me, think of something, anything else. "I have to say, Livvy, you look amazing. You're, like, glowing. I don't even have the words."

She had the good grace to blush. "European living suits me, I guess. It's all wine and bread and olive oil. Like, where are the nutrients? Put on a few pounds, but I feel good." She reached under her shirt with both hands and mimed shaking the fat belly she didn't have.

"Yeah, I thought you seemed a little chunky..."

Her face lit up in shock. "You little fucker! That's where you say 'No, you're a diva, you're a goddess!'"

"You're a diva. You're a goddess. Happy birthday."

"That's better." She gestured toward the house and said something in Spanish that I took to mean This way.

"I can still give you the tour. It really isn't that big." Liv scooped up one of my bags and led the way, up the hot stone stairs and through the arch of the front door.

Beyond a narrow entryway, the house opened up into one massive room, the vaulted ceiling so high that it must have reached the roof. The opposite wall was constructed entirely of thin struts and huge panes of glass. It seemed as large as a movie theater screen and I froze for a long moment, trying to take in the view. Through that immense window, framed by the swaying trees in the backyard, were miles of pale blue ocean and cloud-flecked sky, the two meeting at the distant line of the horizon. It was a view you'd see on a postcard or a computer wallpaper, not one that could ever be in your house.

Three white couches were arranged in a U, and scattered around the room were half a dozen tropical plants in huge pots, some taller than I was. A long patterned rug stretched from end to end, drawing the eye to a well-used fireplace and a large, unsettling painting of a nude woman whose arms, legs, and breasts seemed to be floating away from her body. An internal balcony wrapped around the great room on the second floor.

"I'm taking a shower!" called Grace from somewhere above, while Marco appeared from around a corner with a bowl of strawberries in hand. The kitchen was his natural habitat and he'd nested quickly. Kay was already draped over one of the couches, feet dangling off an armrest, tapping on their phone.

"I put the wifi in the group chat," they said.

"Make yourselves at home," laughed Liv. "Um, so the great room is here, obviously. Be careful with the paintings. Be careful with the paintings everybody! It's like, the only thing they warned me about! Over there is the TV room. It's like a little theater but not as nice as you're probably thinking. Bathrooms here and here, and upstairs too, though you and Pri should take the other master. Drop your bag and I'll show you the back."

"Can I get my own room?" I asked.

"Oh," she said. "Yeah, okay. I thought you might want..." She shook her head as though dispelling the idea. "Of course. There's two rooms downstairs actually. They're super nice, you just don't get the view."

Marco was halfway up the stairs, leaning against the banister and looking down at us, his fruit bowl hanging loosely in his hand.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" he asked Liv. His voice was low and significant.

"What's up?"

"Just need to talk," he said, pointedly ignoring me. He tried to sound casual but he obviously wasn't happy.

"Okay..." She gave me a bewildered look and opened her hands. "Um, kitchen, patio, pool. Basement door there. You'll figure out the rest, I guess."

Marco marched up the stairs, Liv only a few paces behind him. Her beautiful runner's ass bounced with each step, completely tanned from her heel to the swell of the butt cheeks that escaped her bikini bottom. The soles of her feet were filthy. How long had she been running wild around this place by herself?

The rear patio was somehow more impressive than the rest of the house. I walked across the tile, weaving my way around padded wicker chairs and immense, prehistoric-looking ferns, until I reached the railing. The backyard was actually two tiers. On my level was an open air dining room and a hot tub on a wooden platform. On the tier below, a small swimming pool. An idiot would have been dangerously tempted to jump in from here.

I saw Sylvie wandering down by the pool, digging through a plastic chest of buoys and foam noodles.

"Find anything good?" I called down.

With the sun above me, she had to cover her eyes to see who it was. "You don't need floaties, do you?"

"I'm a lifeguard."

"Then no," she said. "I didn't find anything good." For once, she smiled in a way that didn't faintly scare me. She pointed north, towards the villa that was slightly higher than ours on the hill. "You think they can see us?"

There was a large ivy-covered wall between the properties but it was hard to say either way. I just shrugged.

"There's more stairs," she said. "Not sure where they go."

It seemed like an invitation. She was already skipping down the steps before I reached the first landing. The stairs were narrow, wrapping along the stone wall, studded with dried moss, before finally ending at a shallow brick terrace.

This lowest level felt like it was barely clinging to the cliffside. Past a retractable shade and a stack of folded sun chairs, Sylvie leaned against the metal railing, watching the sailboats in the distance.

"The neighbors definitely can't see here," I said. I peaked over the ledge and jerked backward. We were eighty or a hundred feet above the water, and while it wasn't a straight drop, it was steep and rocky all the way down.

"Don't like heights?"

"Nobody likes heights. They just like views and the two are hard to separate."

"You do like to hear yourself talk." She stared straight down into the abyss. "Great place to ditch a body."

I laughed. "Honestly, this feels like the first chapter of a murder mystery. An isolated, wealthy estate, new friends, foreign location. Just missing the eccentric detective, but we can wait until at least chapter three for that."

She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a vape pen. "I could be the detective," she said, choking up as she took a hit.

I thought it might be an e-cig but it smelled like weed. "I'd have pegged you for the murderer actually."

"Why not both? It'd be a hell of a fucking twist."

"I'd buy it. Assuming I survived."

We watched the ocean for a few minutes. I'd cultivated a habit of taking mental pictures, to absorb the details of certain moments so I'd be sure to remember and appreciate them. I closed my eyes and felt the breaking of the waves, the hot sun on my neck, the occasional screech of some seabird. I glanced over to see how Sylvie was enjoying it.

She sighed. "I need a shower."

"Yeah, same I guess."

"You want a hit?"

I'd wished for it earlier, but after seeing Liv, I thought I'd just fall into a Pri-obsessed sadness-spiral. "Maybe later."

We wordlessly climbed the stairs. Sylvie led, the firmness of her legs and ass obvious beneath her loose pants. Fit, beautiful in a severe sort of way, smart as hell even if she was equally mean. It was very much like Liv to have such insanely attractive friends. Hot girls tended to travel in packs.

At the top of the winding stairs we saw Kay on the patio above, sitting on the railing, facing the house.

"Kayby," said Sylvie. "What are you doing?"

Kay looked down, held a finger to their lips, and waved us forward. When I reached the top of the landing, I could hear it too.

"Uhn, fuck," went the voice. "Fuck me, babe, fuck me..."

It was clearly Liv. Marco's voice soon followed.

"Shit, Livvy, oh shit. Take it, hold it open... fuck, like that, just like that..."

Above the kitchen was a metal terrace, dripping with flowers of pink and orange. On it, a glass door had been thrown open to the ocean air. I could only assume that it led to Liv and Marco's bedroom. Sylvie listened raptly, biting her tongue.

One of the great room doors slid open and Grace appeared, her wet hair wrapped in a towel. Grinning, she hitched a thumb over her shoulder, saying "Hey you guys, Liv and Marco are..."

All three of us shh'ed and waved our hands at her. The noisy pillow talk hushed for a long moment. Then Liv's voice rang out.

"I don't give a fuck! Fuck me, baby, please..."

Sylvie whooped and Kay started golf-clapping, inclining their head in admiration. I slid into one of the padded chairs.

"Should we get some drinks?" asked Grace. "Or will it be over soon?"

"I dunno," said Kay. "They been at it for like ten minutes already. How long can he go, Syl?"

"We should see what's in the fridge," said Sylvie.

A few minutes later, the four of us had settled in with glasses of wine and an improvised charcuterie plate, chatting idly about the house and the town of San Cristobal. Occasionally a sentence would be punctuated from above with a "Yes, yes!" or "Oh fuck!" or the rarer "Fill my pussy!" The conversation meandered and, before I realized it, we were opening a second bottle.

"Sylvie, we left you the spot next to the bathroom," said Grace. "And Liv said the other master is for Jack and Pri."

"I'm staying downstairs," I said. "By myself."

Everyone nodded, as though this was the obvious decision and not worthy of comment.

"What are we up to the rest of the day?"

I checked the time on my phone again. "It sounds like Marco wants to take us to a restaurant. I'm pretty tired but it'd be nice to see the village--"

A pair of moans cut through the conversation before fading. Listening to the pair fuck, imagining the two most attractive people I knew go at it after being separated for so long, was torture. It was as close to having sex as I'd been for months.

"Is this ridiculous or what?" asked Grace.

"I know," said Sylvie. "I knew Liv was rich but this is crazy. This is full bat mitzvah money."

"You're Jewish?" I asked her.

She drained the last of her wine and stretched her empty glass towards me. "Depends on who's asking, comrade."

I laughed sensibly as I poured her another.

"No," said Grace. "I mean..." She took a sip and gestured towards the balcony above. "It's bad enough he's so handsome. And he's smart. You know he's a writer? Now he's going for, like, thirty minutes straight. That's not normal right?"

"Not in my experience," said Kay. "With a woman, yeah, but not with a dude. Not if you're having fun." For Kay, it was practically a speech.

While the conversation had shifted away, I took the chance to gaze casually out at the ocean and adjust my nearly-hard cock. When I turned back, I caught the tail end of Sylvie looking away. Had she seen me? I brought the wine to my lips, mostly to hide my blushing.

"It wasn't out of place for Marco," said Sylvie. "The legends of his prowess were well earned. What about you, Jack? You think thirty minutes is too long?"

They all knew it was a trap and they turned innocently towards me all the same. The wine caught in my throat for a moment and I brought my fist to my lips, swallowing heavily. Honestly, I knew that I'd outlast Marco nine out of ten times. You might say we "peer reviewed" it, but it's not like I could say that. Eventually I was able to answer.

"It can happen."

"Oh, you fucking liar," said Sylvie.

"I'll ask Pri," said Grace. "Don't act like I won't." Her face scrunched up when she caught herself. "Damnit."

I shrugged, trying to move quickly past it. "Go for it. If she tells you, she tells you." The sh- on my she's was a little loose. Day drinking on a mostly empty stomach will do that.

"Ha," said Sylvie. "Put a little wine in him and he's all ready to talk shit."

We heard another long moan. It was Liv. "Do it, baby, do it. Oh fuck, you feel so good..." The sound of skin slapping together somehow echoed down to us.

"I'm cumming," said the disembodied voice of Marco. "Oh my god, Livvy, I'm cumming..."

"God damn," said a wide-eyed Grace, playing with the rim of her wine glass. With her wine and towel-wrapped hair, she looked like a scandalized socialite witnessing some spa faux pas. "Good gracious me."

Kay had slouched deeply in their padded chair, their incredibly long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. Their hand was buried deep in a pocket of their shorts, and though their face was as unaffected as usual, I thought I saw their forearm flexing. Were they...?

The gasping moans of Liv's orgasm followed shortly. We all looked up at the window, as if expecting to see a confetti bomb go off.

I wasn't sure if Kay was actually touching themselves, but I couldn't help myself either. With everyone distracted, I squeezed myself through my shorts with a brief thrill of sexual relief. My cock, hot and thick with blood, bent painfully in my boxer briefs. As I brought my glass to my lips, I felt a warm glob of precum smear onto my inner thigh.

Liv's moaning abruptly stopped, and it felt like air that had been slowly sucked out of our little bubble on the patio rushed back in. I released myself, and Kay's hidden hand was suddenly out of their pocket and resting on their thigh. Whether it was the wine or the excitement, Grace's face was noticeably redder than it had been a few minutes ago.

Sylvie seemed to be watching me again. She did it surreptitiously, pretending to look at her phone, eyes tracking past it in my direction. It could have been my imagination, but when I crossed my legs she suddenly cleared her throat and dropped the phone back into her lap.

"Well," she said, standing abruptly. "I need a fucking shower."

"I might take a second," said Grace. She held up her glasses as if checking them for steam. "A cold one. I know it's her birthday but I feel bullied right now."

We all laughed, and after the moment had come and gone, we dispersed throughout the house to waste time in our own way.

~

There are times when, for no apparent reason, you just snap awake, absolutely certain that you couldn't go back to sleep no matter what you tried.

It was pitch black and cold. My sheets and blanket were kicked down past my feet. The room was quiet aside from the ferns outside brushing softly against my little window. I sighed when I checked my phone. 5:35. Accounting for the time change, it wasn't even midnight back home, and I'd only managed... what? Four hours of sleep? Somehow I'd gone to bed early and late at the same time.

I slipped on a t-shirt and grabbed my Kindle from the nightstand. When I stepped into the dark hallway, I paused, disoriented. This floor of the house was completely furnished and certainly didn't feel like a basement, but without the daylight it was cold and sterile. The same tile, the same eclectic art, the same angular, luxurious furniture. All the fancy stuff that was so inviting during the day made the villa almost scary at night. It felt like the house in Beetlejuice after the weird, new family redecorated the place. At first I was grateful to be separate from everyone. Shivering, I wondered if I'd isolated myself a little too much.

At least I'd made an effort to be friendly. We learned last night that a typical Spaniard eats their last meal around 9 PM, and we'd been forced to snack on carrots, hummus, and the tattered remains of our charcuterie to survive the several hours until the restaurants finally opened.

After our boozy afternoon, I couldn't believe I was the only one to beg out of drinking. I told them that it would just put me to sleep. Truthfully, my nerves were getting to me. Every hour was another closer to Pri arriving, and between the ceviche and my growing dread, my stomach had felt like a tossing ball of acid. Sleep would have helped, if I had gotten any.

I fumbled my way down the hall until I found the stairs. I expected the kitchen to be deserted but the little light above the stove was on, casting the room in an odd yellow glow. The indicator on the coffee machine glowed.

It took me a moment to see her in the gloom. Against the far wall, past the countertop and the dining table and chairs, Liv sat on a long cushioned bench, her knees tucked up to her chest. She seemed to be lost in thought, staring blankly out the window, past the wind-jostled plants into the pitch black of the morning. Whether it was the darkness, or the whistling wind, or simply being lost in thought, she didn't turn towards me or even seem to know I was there.

"Hey," I said.

"Yah!" she shouted, falling to the tile with a thump.

I rushed over to find her sitting up, rubbing her elbow and grimacing, one leg somehow stuck inside her extra-large t-shirt. At school she'd sometimes prop herself up with both knees tucked into her hoodie, a warm and toasty little ball. She must have been sitting like that. No wonder she hit the ground so hard; she'd practically been tied up.

"Shit, I'm sorry." I found myself talking low, just a level or two above a whisper. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I bet," she said with a hollow laugh. "You're real fucking sneaky, you know that?" Angling her hip, she slipped the trapped leg out of the shirt and rose unsteadily to her feet, grabbing my arm for balance. Her legs seemed impossibly long in the dark. The t-shirt, featuring the giant ferris wheel from the NC State Fair, was just long enough for her to wear as a nightgown, barely covering her panties as she stood. As usual, her feet were bare, still smudged and dirty on the bottom. "What're you doing up? It's like 4 in the morning."

"5:30 actually. Couldn't sleep."

"Pri?"

"Yeah, I guess so. You okay?"

I meant physically but there was a tired, vacant look behind her eyes. She sighed and shrugged.

"Not really. You having coffee?"

When I nodded, she groped around until she located her mug on the windowsill. She handed it to me silently.

"Just milk?" I asked, working off half a memory.

"Not too much."

While I popped pods in and out of the machine, Liv resumed her out-the-window staring, her legs criss-crossed beneath her. She didn't look up until I returned with both coffees in hand. The bench took up the entire length of the wall and I sat at a respectful distance. I didn't bother looking out the window with her. There was nothing out there.

After a while I asked, "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"It's nothing. I mean, nothing compared to what you're dealing with." I knew she meant Pri and I suspected she was also talking about my dad. "Marco's pissed at me, I guess."

I thought he was acting a bit tighter last night but I assumed it was jet lag. It probably would have been obvious if I hadn't been wrapped up in my own shit.

"Why's he pissed?"

"I didn't tell him about you and Pri. And he thinks I do whatever Pri wants. He thinks Pri is more important than he is."

"Well," I said, not quite ready to dispute that. "Why didn't you tell him?"

Staring into her cup for a moment, she reached a finger in to fish something out, flicking whatever it was away into the darkness. "I dunno. I've been busy, he's been busy. We don't talk every day." She took a sip. "I was kinda hoping you guys would figure it out before the trip. And she asked me not to make a big deal about it."

"Sounds like Marco has a point."

"Does he? It's not like it affects him."

"Doesn't it though?"

She rubbed at her eye absently. I thought she did it just to have something to do with her hands, something to prevent her from having to respond. After a moment, she said, "Are you gonna figure it out with her?"

"I... I don't know. Part of me wants to." I scratched at my peach fuzz. "Most of me. I love her. But part of me says 'fuck that.' I tried. I'm trying. She disappeared on me. No explanation, nothing. Slow-motion ghosted me. What kind of respect do I have for myself if I let someone treat me like that?"

"It's not 'someone' though," said Liv. "It's Pri. She's the one. The smart one. The sensitive one. There's something going on. She's not just gonna fuck you over and break up with you."

"Ha," I said softly. "Kinda seems like she already did."

"No, she's not stupid. You don't catch the nice, funny, too-neurotic-to-realize-he's-hot guy and then let him go."

It was dark enough that she might not be able to see me blush.

Smiling small, she reached out for my hand. She took a deep breath. "I'm fucking it up with Marco, aren't I?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe. It sounds like he's feeling a little shut out. I can tell you how good that makes me feel..."

"I don't want to... make him feel that way. I don't want to dump my shit on him. Our relationship is, like, not about problems. It's about, I dunno..."

"Fucking?"

She laughed, breathy and sudden. "I was gonna say 'fun' but you got me there. I don't want to--" She caught herself for a moment, tracing her finger back and forth through the air. It looked like she was mentally swiping back in a video. "Okay, you know why we're in this villa thing? I mean, this villa, this fucking crazy house?

"It was never supposed to happen," she said. "It was supposed to just be me and Dad. The Ackermans finally take that trip of a lifetime. A week here, two weeks there. See all the things, eat all the stuff. Conquer Europe. And we went to London and we went to Paris, and we drove through the countryside to castles and cute little villages, and then Narbonne, this beautiful town on the coast, and Dad was having a blast. Working a lot, yeah, always on his phone, but he told me all this shit he'd memorized about the revolution and Napoleon and frickin' Vichy France.

"Then we took a train into the Alps, and it's perfect. It's so beautiful you can't even believe what you're seeing. And as the mountains go by, my dad starts talking to this woman, this Italian woman traveling with her son. I don't know if you know this but my dad is obsessed with Italy. Like, wishes he was Italian, he knows some Italian, he's all Vivaldi and Puccini and he shits on Bach and Handel, like that. So they're chatting it up and it's going too well, you know what I mean? My dad switches seats and there's little arm pats and jokes. And the son, the Italian son, he's like late-twenties, he doesn't speak English and I don't speak Italian, but still we're looking at each other like 'This is really happening, isn't it?'

"Right there, on sight, my dad reroutes the trip to their ski resort. Fast forward two weeks, he and Bianca are canoodling in fucking Venice. Seriously, I think I have a new step-mom. I wanted to stay with him but I can only be the third, fourth, fifth wheel for so long. And I want to be mad. I want to be so fucking mad, but he's so happy. He's in love. What an asshole. So he gave me his card and I went solo. I did Italy and Croatia and Germany. I met these awesome people, I saw dope shit, I ate focaccia on a boat. And then my birthday was coming up and I thought: 'Bring my people to me,' you know?"

"So this whole thing is on Maury's card?"

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I picked out a normal place in Benidorm, like for cheap British tourists. My dad insisted on this place. I think he's trying to make it up to me. I pushed back. Not that hard but I did. It's a lot of money but the firm is going crazy right now. Like, this is not a big deal for him. So there it is. Daddy fucked off two weeks into vacay and now he's buying Livvy's love. How fun is that?"

"Does Marco know?"

She didn't say anything. The chill in the room seemed to have no effect on her. Her hand was hot and sweaty.

"Just tell him. He wants to understand. He might be mad you're holding out but he's the sensitive type. And he's fucking nuts for you. You don't catch the ten-out-of-ten, model-hot straight-A's badass girl and then let her go."

She squeezed my fingers so hard they hurt. "You fucking idiot..."

For just a moment we sat in the dark, saying nothing, only existing. Then, slowly, Liv shifted across the bench and crawled into my lap, straddling me. I froze as she wrapped her arms and legs around me like a koala, hugging me tightly, her chin digging into my shoulder. Her heat radiated through her t-shirt and her bare thighs, warming my whole body. I'd never seen her cry before, and I didn't expect that I ever would, but for a while she just clung to me, sighing heavily in my ear. I held her and stroked her hair until she was finished.

She cleared her throat, a signal for what I didn't know, and she slowly pulled back until our faces were a few inches apart. Her eyes were only a little red. Then she kissed me, long and slow, hot and soft and salty.

"What are you doing?" I asked when she finished.

"I'm sad," she said as if explaining to an idiot. "Boy make girl feel good..."

"We can't."

"Because of...? This has nothing to do with them."

"It's not right. Marco--"

"Marco doesn't care about this. He never has."

"But Pri--"

"You're on a break, dip shit," she said, smiling softly. "And it's my birthday. She knows I get a little extra on my birthday."

"I'm scared," I said. Even though I was holding her up completely, enveloping her in my arms, I felt tiny. I felt like nothing. "She's gonna leave. She's gonna leave and I'm gonna lose all of this."

"You're not gonna lose me," she whispered. For a moment, I saw the fragile thing inside her, small and glinting. "You know I'll give you anything you want. And I know you'll give me anything I want." She brushed her fingers across my stomach, lightly, as though testing the connection. "I want this. So give it to me."

Liv reached between us and pulled her t-shirt up to her neck, exposing her breasts. Her puffy nipples, what I remembered as bubblegum pink, were almond-colored from the sun.

Whatever resistance I had in me evaporated. I kissed her hard, our teeth bumping together, groping her tits with both hands, the little mounds fitting easily in my palms. Her fingers found their way under the hem of my shirt. Goosebumps flushed across my body, and she laughed into my mouth as I shivered.

It took a moment to untangle our limbs, and suddenly she was squatting down in front of me, toes splayed on the cold tile, tugging at my night shorts. Though her shirt had fallen back into place, her nipples tented visibly through the fabric. With her legs spread, I could see her pale panties in the dark. They were off-white and stained; regular, normal-life, I wasn't prepared for sex panties.

She yanked my shorts and underwear to a heap around my ankles. My cock was swollen and dangling low. Liv sighed when she saw it.

"God, it never gets old," she said, nuzzling her nose under the weight. Her breath was hot against my balls. "I can't believe I ever fit this thing inside of me..."

She licked and kissed my sack, my shaft growing in jerks and bobs like a flag being raised up a pole, gently tapping against her freckled face as it slowly filled with blood. She seemed to revel in sucking my balls, and soon my long, fat cock lay flat on her face, reaching above her hairline and covering one eye entirely. A drop of precum glistened on my slit. She hadn't even used her hands yet.

Liv pushed my dick around with her nose, licking up the veiny underside, lifting my shirt up with one hand. When she saw my bare stomach, she made a noise like a growl, low in her throat. I'd been swimming to exhaustion every day at work, trying to forget everything, and though my times were barely improving, my abs were more defined and chunky than they'd ever been. Liv began to kiss and bite my belly, rubbing her fingers along the raised muscle.

"Fuck, I love this ottermode twink shit," she said. "When did you get so fucking hot?"

"I'm not--oh fuck--"

Before I could finish, she maneuvered my head to her lips. Opening wide to take my girth, she sucked me in, squeezing me against the roof of her mouth.

"Mmmm," she hummed around me. After all this time I thought she might decide to tease me a little. Instead, she grabbed my ass with both hands and tried to force my dick to the back of her throat.

"Ohh fuck, Livvy," I moaned, taking two handfuls of her hair. "What are you doing?"

She didn't press or hurt herself, only taking me deep enough to put pressure on my swollen glans before pulling back with a spit-drenched slurp. Her brown eyes glazing over, she took me deep again, or as deep as she was able. At least half of my cock was still outside her mouth when she reached her limit, but it felt incredible. Over and over she sucked me deep, making soft gawking sounds.

Abruptly she pulled back, gasping and catching the long strand of saliva swinging from her lips with one hand. Businesslike, she stood and slipped her panties down her narrow hips, collecting them off one raised ankle before tossing them on the table. They caught the dim kitchen light for a moment, sticky at the crotch.

She stepped to the side, planting a knee on the cushioned bench right next to me, and bent over to display her pussy. She still had the stark tan line of her bikini bottoms; the pale white triangle around her vulva and asshole was the only thing untanned on her entire body. Her tuft of brown pubic hair glistened, and her pussy lips were red and swollen and folded open, waiting for my cock head to kiss them.

I'd brushed off her earlier jokes about gaining weight, but it was obvious now. Although her butt was still a bulging half-circle of muscle when viewed from the side, it had always been narrower than her waist. Since I'd last seen her, she'd thickened out, her ass plumping to an inverted-heart shape. Her cheeks jiggled as she repositioned herself. God bless European living.

Before she could even look back, I pushed my face into her ass crack and inhaled the sweet smell. Stretching my tongue, I parted her labia, sliding up and down until I flicked her clit. She groaned and dropped her shoulders, her t-shirt sliding down and bunching up around her armpits. Using one hand to hold her cheeks open, I curled my middle finger inside her, teasing the front wall of her pussy, rocking my arm back and forth, trying to spill her cunt juice on the floor.

"Oh fuck, Jacky. I'm clean, I'm clean..."

It was more of a hint than I needed. I held her apart with both hands and rimmed her hairless pink asshole. She needed one hand to brace herself against the bench but the other disappeared between her legs. I sucked on her asshole, spit on it, and sucked the spit off again.

"It feels good, Jacky," said Liv as she punished her clit. "My ass feels so good... I'm gonna fuck--I'm gonna fucking cum..."

A few seconds later, her knees buckled and her hips dropped out, and I had to hold her up by the waist to continue sucking on her tender pink hole, licking and slobbering as she came.

"Oh fuck, oh shit. Oh-fuck-oh-shit..." she panted, pushing her ass into my face. A shiver ran through her and she suddenly lurched forward, trying to escape. "Okay, okay, stop, stop, stop, stop..."

I released her waist and Liv dropped into a crouch, shivering and bouncing on her heels as the orgasm aftershocks hit her. Faster than I expected, she regained her composure, raising her butt back into the air, pointing her pussy at me.

My cock flexed and bounced, and I pumped it a few times in my fist in preparation.

"Wait," she said. "Damn. This is a fucking stupid question but do you have lube? I haven't had anything that big inside me since, well... since the last time."

I blinked in confusion and had to laugh. I hadn't even considered sex while I was packing. Not for planning purposes, not as a reality. Of course I didn't have fucking lube. I didn't even have condoms.

"Okay, um... fuck," she said, dropping her head. My id screamed for me to step up, rigid shaft in hand, and fill her cunt. Her head shot up again. "Ah! Coconut oil. In the cabinet. Above the coffee maker."

I stumbled past the table, past Liv's damp panties, into the kitchen, my cock slapping heavily against my thighs. Though my Spanish was shit, I had enough presence to find the small jar of aceite de coco. Knowing it was unsanitary and not giving a shit, I scooped two fingers into the solid goo and rushed back, stroking the melting oil down my shaft. As I rounded the table, I saw Liv writhing on her hand, pumping two fingers in and out, her teal nail polish disappearing and reappearing rapidly, trying to expand her pussy for me.

I stopped a few feet away, stroking myself and watching my ex's best friend fuck herself in anticipation. I hadn't had sex in months, not since seeing Pri off for the summer. My cock was glossy and slick and angry-red. My plum-sized glans drooled a long strand of precum. It swung back and forth before tumbling to the floor.

"Just fuck me already..." Liv whined. "What the fuck... please..."

I stepped up and took her firmly by the back of her neck, raising her to her feet, her streaky brown hair mussing as I pulled her tee over her head. She grinned wickedly and made herself pliable. Once she was totally, properly naked, I turned her towards me, covering her mouth with mine, slipping in my tongue. We made out slowly but firmly, and after a moment she started to relax, her shoulders slumping. Without warning, I gripped her whole pussy in my palm, pushing my oil-slicked fingers between her lips. She practically jumped, hips thrusting as she pressed herself against me, scraping and scratching at me as I diddled the back of her clit with my middle finger.

We pulled apart just long enough to get my shirt over my head. In the half second I'd closed my eyes, Liv had spun and arranged herself on the bench again. Head down, she wagged her ass up and down, her pussy a sloppy, oily, impatient mess.

We were both so fucking ready. I didn't need to fondle or tease her any more. I just lined up my fat head between her engorged lips and pushed.

"Hnnng," she moaned. "Ohh fuck. Slow, slow, slow..."

I'd filled this beautiful pussy enough times to know how fast to push. I used my glans to gently pry her open, pressing and then retreating, each time giving the muscles enough time to stretch before sliding in again. The hardest part was usually getting the thick ridge of my head inside, but she was so fucking wet that it only took a few strokes.

"I thought you'd be too tight," I said. "But your pussy is hungry."

"Ugh, fuck--you've been teasing me for twenty minutes, dickhead." She laughed a little, her vagina squeezing in time with each breath. Pumping my hips into her while she laughed felt otherworldly. I watched my cock slowly disappear inside her, taking another half-inch on each stroke, each one rewarded with a little gasp. Slightly out of breath, she laughed again. "The oil smells good. It smells kinda like--ah shit... deep."

"Too deep?"

"No," she said. "No, but close."

I was mostly inside her, her shiny lips wrapped tightly around my shaft, the skin refusing to let go as I pumped in and out. Maybe it was my forced celibacy this summer, or how turned on she was, or just the anticipation of her body, but I felt extra thick and almost painfully hard. I filled her up so completely that I could feel every ridge and fold in her pussy, the glorious texture caressing my cock with each thrust.

When Liv started to tilt her hips, I knew what she was looking for. Cupping her cheeks with both hands, I tried to force her higher onto the bench. Off-balance and confused, she slipped and struggled with her footing.

I squeezed her soft waist. "Get your ass up there and I'll give you what you want."

A light went on behind her eyes and she quickly shifted both feet onto the bench, squatting with both hands flat against the cushions, balancing with casual athleticism. Her biteable, half-tanned ass hung off the edge, pussy lips still gripping my cock.

There it was. Like a well-oiled hinge, the angle slipped into place, allowing my cock deep into her A-spot, her favorite.

"Fuck!" she said, slapping a palm against the cushion.

"Are you okay?" I asked, pulling out slightly.

"Go," she pleaded. "Hurt me. Fuck my pussy."

I grunted like a caveman, pushing hard, increasing my pace until each stroke was pistoning deep inside. I tried to hold back my last few inches but her greedy pussy swallowed me up, half-inch by half-inch until I bottomed out against the pocket of her fornix, holding her hips in place with white-knuckled intensity.

"Guh-uh-uh-god," she said shakily, as each thrust stole a little bit of air from her lungs. "It's so--it's, so, deep..."

"Fuck yes," I said as I rapidly split her oil-slicked lips. "Fuck, Livvy. You almost took it all. You're doing so good..."

I let loose, fucking her ragged, the wet sounds of my plunging cock growing louder as I unlocked more and more lubrication from Liv's cunt. She leaned back, forcing her pussy down onto my cock, further and further until her ass and most of her thighs hung out into the cold air, until her clenching toes and the tips of her fingers were the only things still touching the bench. By the time her pussy began to make the tell-tale sloshing noises that preceded her squirting, she was so dangerously off-balance that my hands and cock and the momentum of my thrusts was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Cum, Livvy," I said raggedly. My arms were getting tired. "You got what you wanted so cum right fucking now."

"Cum," she groaned. "I want to. I want to..."

"I'm gonna cum inside, okay? I'm gonna fill you up."

"Inside," she said. "I'm gonna--I'm fuck--"

Liv came, body shaking, her voice falling away. The pale, untanned strip of skin between her ass cheeks flushed red as she bucked and bounced on my cock. Finding just enough room to escape between thrusts, girlcum sluiced out of her, down my shaft, spattering onto the floor between my feet. Holding her ass in place, I pumped rapidly from below with a disgusting glop-glop-glop, the hot swell of my orgasm starting from my balls and rising up along my spine.

I came. As her cunt squeezed me, pouring her hot juice down my thighs, I spurted a long rope of cum against the back of her pussy.

"Fuck, Liv, I'm cumming... oh fuck, oh fuck," I mumbled, squeezing her hips so tight I thought she would bruise. I spurted again, hard, shooting deep. My calves clenched. I could feel the texture of our fucking change as my slick cum mixed together with her squirt.

Pleasure warmed my entire body, still thrusting, still cumming, seven then eight ropes deep, then another. In the back of my mind I saw Liv whining softly, taking each stroke with a gasp, barely holding herself up against me, totally overstimulated but trying to take my thick cock until I was finally finished, until I was finally done using her.

I slowed my pumping hips, awash in happy chemicals, my cock on fire. My last ejaculation was incredible, a long, slow dribbling of cum that seemed to extend my orgasm for several breathless seconds. Hazy, tilting on my feet, I lost strength for a moment, and we collapsed backwards.

My tailbone slammed against the hard tile, snapping me momentarily back to reality until the soft bliss of orgasm rolled over me again. I only realized after the fact that I'd held Liv the entire way, cushioning her fall with my body. Awkwardly entangled, I leaned just enough to lay her down, my cock slipping from inside of her and slapping loudly against my stomach. Naked in the fetal position, she covered her face with both hands, shivering.

The sky was still an inky purple, the sun not even close to rising. The kitchen light gave the room the barest fluorescent glow, enough to make out the details of Liv's body but not much more. An oozing mess of girl and boy cum dripped out of her distended pussy, down her ass cheek and onto the floor.

For a long time I sat on my bare ass, watching Liv recover, my cock slowly shrinking between my legs, glistening and sticky. It was as good of a fuck as we'd ever had.

"God fucking damn," she said eventually. "I'm all fucked up."

"Sorry," I said. "Kinda dumped you on the ground there. I didn't know what to do."

"Huh?" She uncovered her face to look at me like I'd said the dumbest thing in the world. "No dude, 'fucked up' good. The best." She blew out a deep breath. "I need to be fucked like that all the time."

"You wish," I laughed. I felt a deep, dancing chill run through me. I was buck naked and fucked out, sitting on the kitchen floor with a girl who was not my girlfriend. This was dangerous. This could go bad really quick. "Where are the paper towels?" I asked, lurching to my feet. "We gotta take care of this mess. We gotta take care of it now.