***Author’s note: I’ve been absent for a long while. I encourage you to skim the previous chapters and get back up to speed on what’s going on. This is a short chapter, and not actually a very sexy one. It’s necessary for the narrative, however, and you’ll see why in Chapter 6, which I am also posting right away.***
**Chapter 5**
Amy ran a full gamut of emotion on her way back to her room. She’d been confused after Mark… after what Mark did. It was just simple toughing, but it had felt *good*. Good in a way she hadn’t expected. She’d been like some brainless bimbo in his arms, squirming and squeaking. Nothing like that had ever happened before. She’d been touched, sure, but it had never done *that* to her.
It was humiliating, that’s what it was. The idea that a simple touch could make her completely melt like that was beyond embarrassing. She’d spent her whole life being her own person, based her identity on low-key badassery. Having all that stripped away made her feel… well, it made her feel naked.
And Mark knew that shit. He knew that being In Control meant a lot to her, and he’d treated it like nothing, like some silly little game she played. He’d shattered her armor as surely as if it wasn’t even there. It was infuriating! He was *supposed* to be her best friend! He was *supposed* to have her back, the way she always had his! He was *supposed* to be safe!
But then, he *was* safe, wasn’t he? After all, he was the one person who she trusted the most. He’d always protected her, not that she’d needed much protecting. They’d always had each other’s backs. She couldn’t believe that he’d meant to make her confused or embarrassed or angry. He kept saying he was having trouble with his feelings, his urges. And now she was confused again.
Amy’s circular self-argument was interrupted first by her arrival back at her own room, and then by a flashing indicator on her computer showing she had messages. She checked her phone and grumbled at its odd habit of not getting alerts for background apps, then sat down and clicked in the message.
The message was from Greg. It just said “come over”. Greg wasn’t one for long conversations, especially online. Of course, he’d talk for hours about car engines. Amy wasn’t a fan of such things, but she listened because she liked to see how excited he would be over a new belt or piston or whatever it was he was talking about. And she could zone out listening to his voice, stop thinking about things she didn’t want to think about. Greg had a really nice voice.
Amy changed into fresh jeans and a loose t-shirt, then headed straight over to Greg’s place. It was an apartment off-campus, only a few minutes away by foot, which Greg’s parents had provided for him. Greg didn’t like bringing his truck on campus, so Amy was used to taking the time to walk over there.
She didn’t have a key for the front door, but was able to slip in behind someone else, so she didn’t have to buzz up to Greg. Four flights of stairs later, she stood in the hall catching her breath from the climb. Once she felt a little more composed, she knocked on the door.
“It’s open!” Greg called. Amy opened the door and stepped in, then closed it behind herself.
The apartment was a little messy, but it wasn’t like there was food left out to rot or anything. It was mostly one open living area, with a kitchen cordoned off to the right and a hallway past that leading to the bedroom and bathroom. Greg had his back to the door and was sitting at his desk, caught in the middle of one of his army shooter games, so Amy walked over to the sofa and sat down to wait, taking out her phone and checking for any other missed messages.
Greg chattered into his microphone with military efficiency, calling targets and directing his squad. After about ten minutes, he whooped triumphantly and spun around in his chair. “Hey, babe. Did you see that shit?”
Amy smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was sucked into this news article about these protests-”
“Bah.” Greg waved a hand dismissively, getting up from his chair. “You shouldn’t worry about that stuff so much.” He flopped down hard on the sofa next to her with an arm around her shoulders, reaching over with the other one to ruffle her hair. “Let’s watch some TV or something, get your mind off all the problems in other countries.”
“This is happening in Boston.”
“Fine. Other states. Whatever.” Greg leaned back and fished the remote out of the sofa, then turned the TV on and flicked the channel over to Nascar.
Amy let out a breath she’d been holding without realizing it. Part of her was certain that Greg was going to know what had been going on the past while with Mark. She’d dreaded some sort of confrontation about it. But, in the end, Greg was uncomplicated. He liked cars, and car races. He liked shooting insurgents on the internet. And he liked having a minimum of drama in his life, especially from his girlfriend. He wasn’t the sort to be stalking her with suspicions of wrong-doing.
Amy turned her attention to her phone, until a message from Mark showed up. “Let’s talk,” it said. She swiped it away and set the phone aside, leaning in against Greg and letting the droning of car engines push out the mixture of thoughts and feeling that had again began to rise in her gut.
Greg shifted a little and moved his hand from Amy’s shoulder to her thigh. It rested there a while, a warm weight on her flesh, before moving up a little. And a little more. Amy knew this little routine well, so it wasn’t a surprise when she felt Greg’s fingers pushing against the crotch of her jeans, rubbing up and down.
Still, she let a little gasp out, to show him she’d noticed. He liked it when she acted a little innocent or flustered; it was a sort of game they played. Not that she could feel that much through the denim of her jeans anyway, but it was fun to just pretend.
Greg chuckled, but kept his eyes on the TV as he shifted to push a little harder. With his other hand, he unzipped and unbuttoned his own pants, then reached over to take her hand and slide it under his shorts. Amy curled her fingers around Greg’s mostly-hard cock and started stroking it, trying hard not to think about how her brother’s had been a bit thicker.
Greg groaned. “Babe, that’s good. You been practicing?”
Amy felt her face get hot. She had actually learned a little from Mark, it seemed. “What? No! I mean, not…”
“It’s cool, babe,” he replied. “It’s kinda hot thinking of you playing with a toy trying to learn how to be better.”
Amy bit her cheek and squirmed a little, getting in a more comfortable position for her shoulder so she could continue stroking. Greg’s hand was resting against her; once he started feeling good, he sometimes forgot to keep playing with her. Not that it mattered much, because after a few more seconds, the hand came up behind her head, urging her to lean down toward him.
Amy scooted her hips away and bowed down toward Greg’s lap. He was already shifting to push his pants and shorts down out of the way, and by the time her head got close enough, his cock was completely exposed. Still holding the base, Amy guided the head in her mouth and started sucking.
Greg stroked her hair and shoulders for a few seconds, but as soon as he felt good enough to groan again his hand came to a rest on her head. Amy bobbed up and down, sliding her hand and lips along the length of him.
It was definitely easier than it had been with Mark. Mark was longer and thicker, more of a challenge to handle. Greg was, she supposed, “average” down there, so there was less strain on her jaw, less worry about going too deep and gagging. Sure, Mark had a cleaner smell, and he didn’t keep his hand on her head the same way; Greg would push a little if he felt like things weren’t going fast enough, and she had never really like that very much. She let her hand slide spit all the way down to the base, making it slick so she could move more easily without friction under her fingers.
“Fuck babe, you’re better at that too,” Greg cooed. Amy mumbled something noncommittal and brushed her hair behind her ear on the side opposite Greg’s face. She didn’t want him to see her face right now, and he seemed content with that.
It only took a couple minutes of steady movement before Greg’s breath got louder in a way Amy recognized. She sped up a little, tightening her fingers and lips around his shaft, urging him closer to completion.
“Fuck!” Greg brought his own hand down and shoved hers out of the way. He started furiously stroking himself, hitting Amy in the lips a few times before she pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Greg groaned loudly, and some cum oozed out onto his hand, smearing down his shaft as he kept pumping it.
Amy sat up and leaned away to reach for a box of tissues on the end-table. She handed a few over and he started cleaning up, then tossed them into a little trash can that held a few more similarly used tissues. “Thanks, babe,” he said, pulling up his pants. “You want me to-”
“No, it’s okay,” Amy replied, cutting him off. The idea of him clumsily trying to finger her while watching the TV kind of made her want to scream right now. “I’m… I’m not feeling real good. Stomach ache.”
“Well don’t get me sick,” he said, giving her a little glare. “I got a big raid tomorrow night, the last thing I need’s to be puking my guts out.”
Amy shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s just something I-” *put in my mouth and sucked until he came, and then he touched me and made me cum and it felt-* “-something I ate. Um, are you okay if I head home? I think I need to lay down.”
“Sure, sure.” Greg leaned over and pushed her down a little so he could kiss the top of her head. It had always made her feel nice before, but today it seemed wrong. “Seeya later, then. I’ll message you.”
“Yeah, okay.” Amy got up. She stared at Greg for a moment. He needed to shave, and probably change his clothes. He did tunnel in sometimes when he was gaming. As she watched, he finished buttoning his pants and turned off the TV, returning to his chair at the desk and turning his back on her. Seconds later, he was in another match. The gunshots and explosions drowned out the sound of the door closing as Amy left.
Four flights was a long way to go down. Amy trudged like a tired soldier for the first flight. She sped up for the second, feeling a need to get away. The third and fourth she went down in more of a controlled fall, holding the rails on both sides, and at the bottom she practically flew out the door. She had to get out, to get away. A black cloud was chasing her, and she was terrified to look back. She had to look forward, even if the wind in her face made her eyes water. The tears trailed down her cheeks and still she ran.
She barely realized where she was going until she was there, turning the knob and body-slamming the door open, letting momentum carry her until her shine ran into the bed, making her tip forward and fall on the soft covers. She curled up into a little ball, sobbing uncontrollably.
Mark came out of the bathroom, dripping wet, wrapped in a towel. He pushed the door closed, then turned to her. “Good, I’m glad you’re back, we need to-” There was a pause, then suddenly he was there at her side, pulling her close, laying her head on the damp towel that covered his lap. His hand stroked her arm, and his voice was soft and smooth. “Oh, Amy, Amy… it’s okay, you’re safe.”
“You’re with me, now.”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/dzr0s6/mf_oral_markamy_chapter_5
Hot and well written. Thanks for posting.