My Quarantine Survival Guide, Part 3: Internet Porn is a Terrible Influence ([MF], [Group], Hoarding Catan’s Lumber)

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/geb1ns/my_quarantine_survival_guide_part_1_reenter_riley/) and [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ggmr2f/my_quarantine_survival_guide_part_2_but_buddy_mf/), for those feeling nostalgic. I… know how this one is gonna end now, but we’ve got one more part from a happier time. With Riley the adventure is never permanent. Anyway, here’s some amateur porn in literary form:

“Benny touched by dick.”

I spat my mouthful of orange juice back my glass and looked at Brian. The aforementioned dick-toucher had left the apartment ten minutes earlier to retrieve liquor and other crucial quarantine supplies (also beer and bottled water).

“What?”

Brian shook his head at me and squinted then turned back to the game, Ness sending Pikachu flying off the edge of the stage. “It was, like, real quick. Basically an accident.”

I’d made the observation a moment before that they had seemed to be getting along better this morning. It mainly came from a place of small-minded competitive behavior, as they’d been teaming up and kicking my ass all morning. And worse, denying they were doing it. I couldn’t get him to admit that he saved the hammer for when I respawned, but this admission I get? I shook my head, trying my best to not be too judgmental and keeping myself guarded in the probable event that Brian was fucking with me.

“What was your dick doing out?”

Brian exhaled. “Uh…. You really want to know?”

I shook my head and shrugged.

“Okay, but only because we’re surviving a quarantine together. And you know Benny, it’s gonna come out. Okay, so you know how Benny and Riley were talking about how convenient it was to live with someone you’re fucking – 24/7 service, all that?”

“After she found –“

“Yeah, after she found that condom he left out.” Brian gestured toward the windowsill where it lay unclaimed.

I exhaled forcefully. “They had been talking about that.”

“Right, and this relationship with Kylie – I don’t care what Benny says – basically she does live with me, so I get to count it, before she got locked down in my apartment.” Brian rehashed some of his argument from the previous night, tempered, no doubt, by practicing and arguing it to himself over the past 10 hours.

“I think you should count it however you want to count it.”

“Okay, yeah. Right? That’s what I was saying last night.” Brian nodded vigorously. “Anyway, between you and me, it’s –“ He turned his head from the game for a minute and then continued, “It’s actually not the only example. You remember Ken Whittaker?”

“Your freshman year roommate? With the popped collars?”

Ken Whittaker had been paired with Brian in the double they had lived in their freshman undergraduate year. I didn’t know much about him; we’d met on occasion once or twice. He seemed like a total bro.

“Uh… yeah. We did this thing… super dumb.” He looked at me wide-eyed to emphasize the “dumb”. “Sometimes we’d jerk it, like simultaneously.”

I stared at him incredulously. The odds that he was fucking with me looking ever longer.

“We shared a hundred square feet. And it’s not an uncommon occurrence for an 18-year-old college freshman to strike out at the bar and come back… frustrated.”

I nodded noncommittally.

“So we’d pop some porn on and rub one out before bed.” Brian held his palms up in a shrug, then quickly took his controller back as I tried to make the most of the opportunity. There was a pregnant silence. Brian added, “We called it ‘movie night’.”

“Hold on, look.” He paused abruptly and jabbed the remote, flipping over to a still frame of a porn actress. For those that have not randomly freeze-framed their jackoff material, let me assure you of two things. First, that it is hard for anyone to look attractive in one random still frame of coitus. It’s kind of like tennis that way. Two, this woman was female.

“See, it’s not even gay porn.”

I nodded again and he went back from the woman getting smashed to Smash. “Huh.” Quarantine Rule Four: no judgment in quarantine.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” he asked.

“I think it’s super weird,” I laughed. “But you’re stuck with a roommate you didn’t sign up for, your girlfriend’s locked up down the hall, hell, I’m fucking Riley again – and I spent basically a year hating her – there’s aerosolized death in the ICU, and they’re saying it’s going to take two years to normalize the PPE pipeline. None of it is fucking normal.”

Brian shifted his gaze.

“Look man, if it helps keep the peace, and you two want to have movie nights… I think you should do you.”

“Yeah.”

Thankfully, we went back to the game. I meant what I’d said. Not an hour before I’d seen an article about harvesting ambient yeast so you could bake sourdough because the supermarkets were all out. The crazy ship had sailed. I didn’t particularly care what he did to make it through his day. I also didn’t particularly want to hear about it.

Riley particularly wanted to hear about it.

“Shut up.” She slapped my pec. “He ‘touched’ it, or Benny stroked him off?”

I cringed. “I don’t know. He did not say anything about ‘stroking off’.”

“Oh man,” Riley laughed throatily. “I didn’t realize things were that fucked down there. I cannot wait until dinner tomorrow.”

We were taking that night off hanging out. Paradoxically, while a lot of the health system was completely overburdened, the crisis was maddeningly uneven. Brian was a nurse at a fairly specialized interventional radiology clinic specializing in vascular disease. While ED and ICU nurses were worked extra hard, the outpatient clinics, in which he would normally see patients before and after various elective procedures, were completely shuttered. For one, people didn’t want to chance a trip to a hospital if they could help it. Second, systems were contracting these elective service lines to conserve valuable protective equipment and minimize staff exposure, in hopes that things might come on in easier fashion after the mythical ‘all clear’.

In an era of ever increasing subspecialization, it wasn’t a simple task to plug any practitioner into a completely foreign environment, let alone one in crisis. Employees were furloughed, with pay if they were lucky, without if they were not, with ever more joining the latter camp. Benny had the chance to work one night a week doing basic general nursing tasks: in this case, sitting by a door and asking everyone that came through if they currently had a fever.

None of the employees coming through the staff door ever said they had a fever.

As Benny was engaged until 9 pm, and in order to keep the strict schedule that called for video games bright and early in the morning, the daily dinner hangout in 202 got canceled for the evening.

I looked at Riley, who was obviously suffering more than I for the lack of even perfunctory social contact. “How’s Kylie holding up?”

“She’s fine now, no thanks to you,” She playfully slapped again.

“I mean, come on, that was a nonstarter.” I gave her a defensive shove to her side of the couch and laid on top of her, stealing a kiss.

Riley kissed back, then put her hands on my chest and pushed me up a bit, blowing a lock of hair out of her face and staring venom into my eyes.

I had elected not to deliver a parcel to Kylie. Everyone in our circle (with the recent exception of Brian over the past two days) made daily contact through the door to check in, and hopefully provide a little morale boost. She had mentioned that while she anticipated her impending release, possibly as soon as three days from now, she was at present, ‘bored and lonely’. I had relayed this to Riley in passing. Riley had insisted that I deliver a big, vibrating morale boost manufactured by Hitachi to help. With or without the recent weirdness with Brian, this didn’t seem like my place.

“You know what, fuck it. She doesn’t know me as well, but Kylie is suffering down there.”

I kissed her again deeply. Riley pushed her tongue into my mouth and ran her hand inside my shirt up my flank. Abruptly, she pulled her hand out and pushed me up, her gigantic eyes staring into me. “Rob. She needs this.” Riley sprang up off the couch and shot me a glance over her shoulder. “She’s suffering.”

I watched, bemused, as a fey sex butterfly darted around her apartment, gathered up a shoebox, labeled it “EXTREMELY CONFIDENTIAL” with a Sharpie, and darted from her apartment. “Wait here.” She winked and blew me a kiss as the door shut.

So I waited.

Evidently, we had been watching a show where yuppies purchase and rehabilitate barns for cohabitation. It seemed like an absolutely reasonable way to secure lodging if you had $800,000 dollars to spare and wanted to live in a barn in upstate New York. The program again failed to capture my attention. I pulled out my phone.

One text from Brian confirming that there would not be dinner tonight.

>“Check. No dinner. See you tomorrow.”

I set the phone down. Brian made me think of Kylie and her impending encounter with a known crazy person. I texted Kylie.

>”Listen, I’m sorry for the knock you’re either about to get or have already gotten.”

>”She means well.”

>”Riley’s an acquired taste.”

“What?”

Then the ellipses and then, “Oh, haha.”

And then silence. The butterfly had landed.

She had been gone too long, way too long. Surprisingly interesting things were happening with the exposed brick in the kitchen. I didn’t fully notice the passage of time until the episode was done and I got up to refresh my drink (water this time; it had been vodka last night) and checked my phone. It was past 10.

I contemplated texting Riley, wondering if it was too lazy to text when a trip of about 50 steps would suffice to answer my question. I looked out the window. Brian and Benny’s living room light was on in 202, but there wasn’t anyone obviously there. I plopped back down on the couch, thinking to myself that it was probably a sign of personal growth and an evolved mindset. Eight years ago with Riley, I definitely would have been more worried that the text could have been received as desperate rather than lazy. It was in the midst of this internal existential monologue that an overjoyed Riley burst through the door.

“Benny is home!” she beamed, and shut off the light.

“Wait, what – “ I stammered, just barely getting my phone safely onto the end table before she pounced onto my chest, hands on either pec. She kissed me, deeply, and rubbed the crotch of her jeans on my thigh.

“You taste good.”

“I know it, baby.” I grinned. “Why are the lights off?”

“Rob. Rob. Rob-Rob-Rob.” She put a finger on my lips. “I need you to *do* something for me.” She emphasized her… request?… with a little pelvic thrust.

I figured I was only signing up for oral or a dragon-bondage fantasy or something, so I agreed quickly. About 100 hours’ worth of Dan Savage podcasts has strongly informed my morality about agreeing to things wherever I can when it comes to sex.

Riley growled in my ear. “I would like you to fuck me over by that window, but I would appreciate it if you would do it slowly and in standing position – ” she unbuttoned by jeans and enunciated carefully and overdramatically – “for I am grievously concerned that the gentlemen in 202 are going to fuck and I do not want to miss it.”

I laughed out loud. “Bullshit.”

“Wanna bet?” Riley grinned maliciously.

I kissed her, sat up, tore off her shirt, and kissed her again. “Stakes?”

Riley responded in a torrent, “If I win, you take Fenrir in your ass, to the knot, and admit to me that neither people nor dragon dildos are inherently better at fucking, just… different.”

“Whoa – “

She stopped me with a finger on my lips. “And you call me ‘Queen of Dragons’ the whole time. If I lose… you may choose whichever hole you like exactly one day from now.”

“Why – “

“My dear Sir,” Riley continued, “my ass is sore tonight.” She turned her attention to the most ubiquitous artificial intelligence on the planet, who, by the way, failed to see any of this coronavirus shit coming. “Siri, set a reminder for tomorrow at eleven pm, re: Rob’s hole choice.”

I looked at her as she smiled, completely still except for one frenetic hand angled behind her back trying to free a half-unclasped bra hook. Fucking Dan Savage. “Deal.”

Riley giggled gleefully, stood up and pulled her jeans from her legs with a catlike stretch. She stood in her panties at the window, ambient street light illuminating her curves, looking back at me.

I know nothing about stakeouts or PIs doing surveillance. If it’s anything like this, and I have no reason to believe that it is, it seems like a great job. Riley was methodically rubbing my cock between her asscheeks as we peered down into 202. Nothing was happening downstairs. Brian was out of view and Benny had a controller in his hand.

“Did she know what it was?” I asked.

Riley languidly dragged her ass over my cock, a hand thrown back behind me, the other supporting herself on the window. Her tone was incongruously conversational. “Oh, she knew. That girl needs it bad.” She put a finger in her pussy and slipped it into my mouth, looking at me gravely. “I’m concerned she might be a little bit of a freak.”

‘A little bit of a freak’ was Riley-code for sexually adventurous. Our escapade in the shower – she would have characterized that as behavior ‘a little bit freaky’. I’m not sure what constitutes full on ‘freak’, but it would be safe to assume it would be outlawed in the more conservative southern states.

She stiffened abruptly, turning back down. “Jackpot.” Benny had put down his controller but remained on the couch. “What do you think they’re watching?”

“Could be anything,” I sighed, massaging her right breast, using a spit-coated finger to bring her nipple to attention. “SportsCenter.”

“No, you ass.” She piqued with a gyration, “What were they watching last night?”

“Oh.” I recommenced my massage of her breast, sliding my hands downwards. “Brainy slut gets gangbanged in locker room.”

“He told you?” she gasped.

“He showed me.” I shifted as Riley redistributed some precum on my cock. “Trust me, it was not a turn on.”

“Hm.” Riley was deep in thought as she rocked against my cock, teasing me. “What made her brainy?”

“She was delivering this treatise on Descartes the whole time.”

“What?”

“She had glasses.”

“Oh.”

Riley put her foot on the windowsill, letting her pussy juice slick the topside of my cock. She gently tapped the window. “You’re so fucked.”

Sure enough, Benny had slipped a hand down his pants.

“That’s no guarantee that Brian is-“ Another hand, unseen above the elbow, reached over and helped pull Benny’s pants down.

“That could be anyone – “

A shirtless Brian dipped into view, licked Benny’s cock, and then straightened back up out of sight.

Riley purred, “You’re so fucked. Here, a little consolation as this bet gets completely out of your control.” She shifted forward and my cock entered her tight slit. “Fuck, I needed that.”

That made two of us.

The visual below didn’t do much for me, so I considered the bare branches of the leaves and the clouds blowing across a waning but substantial moon. Apparently everyone currently fucking at the window didn’t share my opinion, as Riley spread her fingers and leaned down. I whispered in her ear, “Does this get you off?”

She nodded and bit her lip. “Doesn’t watching two girls do it for you?”

I had to agree.

“And come on, there can’t be anything better for you than being between two willing sluts, can there?”

I hadn’t had the experience, but it seemed overly negative to say so. I replied noncommittally, “That’s hot.”

“Rob.” She pushed herself back using the window as leverage, burying my cock to the hilt and holding it there, “Can I tell you something?”

“No, that’d be unprofessional.”

She sucked in air and laughed. “Are you familiar with a reverse harem?”

I wasn’t.

“I’ve never gotten to do it.” She put on a pout as she began gyrating on my cock, purposely too slow for either of us to cum, but building tension nonetheless. I licked my hand and started rubbing her pussy gently to try to edge her onward. “One girl in the center of a- unh-“ Riley reacted to a slight shift in my angle, “in the center of attention. An airtight threesome.”

My cock throbbed at the insinuation. She clenched her pussy in reply.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dirty girl?” I growled in her ear.

“So fucking bad,” Riley panted. “It’s… it’s on the bucket list.”

Riley did not fuck around when it came to the bucket list. She specifically chose her study abroad location because she needed the opportunity to fuck ‘at altitude’, ideally less than three hours from the coast. I think Chile is all the better for the three months she spent there.

I glanced down. Benny had gone back to stroking his own cock. They’d dimmed the lights a little bit in the living room of 202, and the blue glow of a screen was detectable. I turned my attention to the sexier task at hand. “What would it entail? How would you do it, slut?”

Riley gushed on my cock and narrated the fantasy. “I’d be the center of attention. I’d start with blowjobs, sucking everyone, getting each guy-“ I slammed my cock into her pussy, speeding the rhythm, she whimpered, “ – hard. Then, I’d ride one guy, cowgirl. Blowing the second would be easy enough; I think I could manage.” She licked her finger and started rubbing her clit as I pumped her pussy harder. “The difficult part would be in my ass, another guy could – mmmm.” She was losing her focus. Riley shook her head and panted, “The last guy would… mount me… doggystyle.”

“You’d want him to sodomize your ass while you were spit-roasted by the other two, you dirty slut.”

“Yes.”

“Multiple guys, dumping hot loads of cum in all your holes, that’s what you want to do.”

“Please. I need it.”

I was fucking her furiously now, and I felt my balls tightening. I grabbed her raised leg and pumped my cum into her cunt. Riley furiously fingered her clit and I could feel her coming on my cock. I got lightheaded, and I think she felt the same, dropping her leg down to the floor, struggling to balance as we both caught our breath, my cock drenched in her cum-filled pussy.

After a minute of equilibration, I looked down to see Benny, head back on the sofa, evidently also finished – with movie night. “Fuck, I wonder if those guys know what effect they had on you, dirty girl.”

Riley flipped on the light. I froze in the headlights as Benny’s head turned up toward Riley, boobs flat against the glass, my cock still inside her (albeit perhaps not visible from their low vantage point). Brian ran over, pants around his ankles, flaccid cock protruding through his boxers. Riley waved. Benny waved. Brian bolted like a school of fish. I remained frozen.

She looked back at me, doe eyed, and turned off the light. “They know now.”

Little did I know, the plan she shared was the tip of the fucking iceberg. I was balls deep in the Gary-fucking-Kasparov of fucking. And Riley was three moves ahead.

Naturally, we all did our best to ignore it through most of the next day. I stayed for the minimum number of Splatoon matches that good manners would dictate a houseguest endure, and then exercised with Riley. Clue one came after: she offered to blow me but insinuated that we should ‘save our energy’. After a shower that was, for the first time, more cleaning than fondling, we curled up and napped away the afternoon. It was a relaxing change of pace, sublime, nearly meditative. A perfect moment.

​

“Fucking cockballs chickenslut!” Brian slammed his hands down on the table, scattering the robber from a nearby ‘9’ forest and momentarily cleaving the longest road in twain.

We’d finished our nap, and five hours, one dinner, and 1.9 rounds of Settlers of Catan later, we were gathered around the kitchen table. Brian had just rolled a three.

“This game is bullshit if you can’t get bricks,” he fumed.

“So then put your towns by brick, maybe?” Benny suggested helpfully.

“Fuck off.”

Riley rolled an eight, collected two wood, built a road, and won with a victory point and longest road. She laced her fingers under her chin and looked like she’d just finished the whole canary. “Let’s have another round.” She topped off the shot glasses.

Oh yeah, and eight going on twelve shots of vodka later, too. Easy to forget that.

“Another game?” Benny started picking up the pieces.

“No more games.” Riley’s cheeks showed a hint of flush as she put down the shot glass. She stood up and pulled another bottle out of the fridge, turning off the harsh fluorescent light in the kitchen, the open-plan room now dimmer, shadowy, lit by a table lamp next to the big ottoman.

Riley’s game had begun. We were all but players in it.

“Gentlemen, I have been troubled by something my dear friend Robbie has said,” she announced, unscrewing the cap of the vodka and filling the small glass in front of her. “I am also out of work. I miss resolving conflicts, parachuting into a situation with a bunch of… conflicting interests, and sorting the whole mess out.”

The irony that every outcome she’d ever talked about was slashing a company to pieces and destroying the festering bits was not lost on me, but I played along. “The girl needs work, I guess.”

“Precisely, Rob. You’re beautiful.” She touched my cheek and sipped a few milliliters from the top of her glass. “With that in mind, how are things going here? I want to hear the deets.”

‘Deets’ was Riley for details. Or rarely for a common acquaintance in undergrad named Kelly Determan. Riley loved outdated slang. She would have fit right in with most rappers in 1993.

“It’s… been an adjustment. But I think we have found a pattern that will work for the next couple days,” Brian began. “Then everything goes back to normal.”

“Brian and I jack it during movie nights,” Benny interjected, helpful as ever.

Brian looked as if he had just managed to recapture two shots of vodka regurgitated into the back of his throat.

“Oh?” Riley smiled sweetly.

“Well – there was, I had some porn on and – the resolution on the 4K is -” Brian stammered.

“It’s probably at least 4K,” I nodded.

Riley slid the bottle over toward Brian. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” She alighted on my lap, to all appearances absentmindedly laying her wrist along the length of my cock. “That’s one of the most important organizational principles we preach – there’s got to be unit ‘cohesion’.” She sipped a quarter of her shot thoughtfully. “Actually, this whole mess will probably upend the way we do a lot of our recommendations in the future. A lot of jobs can be done by oneself in their apartment. And wouldn’t it be fantastic to get along, I mean, really get along-“ she leaned forward on my lap, deliciously leveraging her ass on my cock while exposing the extent of her cleavage in her cami to the denizens of 202, “with the people you’re stuck with?”

Brian stared down her shirt. Benny’s lips moved silently in search of some clever retort.

“At work,” Riley finished.

“I think that’d be great,” I said as I put my hand on her flank. I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I wasn’t going to stand in her way. Like the others, the vodka had probably served to bolster my sense of adventure.

Riley laced her fingers and extended her arms fully, arching her back with her palms up behind her head. This was a favored Riley stretch, encountered with roughly the same frequency as that back-arching thing that cats do. In this case, as judged from the trajectory of Brian’s gaze, it also served to test the limits of the built-in bra within her top. She rolled her head once and then slapped her hands down on the surface of the table.

“So this movie is high res, then?”

“It’s really not – “

“*Movie* is kind of a generous characterization -“

“Show me.”

Riley popped up and sat on the couch, her arm extended over the back.

Benny and Brian seemed determined to communicate something using only their eyes, but did not appear particularly practiced at it. I shrugged and padded over to the couch, putting my arm behind Riley and rubbing the back of her neck. I wasn’t sure this was going to work, but it was a better effort than we see from mere mortals on their bucket lists.

“I think we should play another game!” Brian opined loudly.

“This is the remote?” Riley dangled the remote from two fingers with a sidelong glance over her shoulder.

“I can’t really remember –“ Brian was momentarily interrupted by the chime of the smart TV, “what we were watching.”

Riley cycled the inputs. “Damn, these smart TVs are easy to use.” She tapped a few buttons. “No, here you go, ‘recently viewed’. Oh, ‘Brainy Girl Gangbanged in Locker Room’. I mean, what’s she even doing in a locker room? She wears glasses, am I right?”

A laugh escaped Brian. Benny came over and perched on the ottoman.

“She’s getting fucked, honey,” Benny said.

Riley considered this for a moment as the locker room’s guest of honor started giving two concurrent handjobs. “This is standard definition.”

“Is it?” Brian came closer.

“Yeah, look, it says right there in the corner. ‘360p’.”

Brian smiled. “Uh, yeah. That was just a lie to throw you off the track.”

Riley glanced toward him. “It’s working great.” Riley frowned. The young lady of much vaunted intellect was considering which of her companions she was going to blow first. “I don’t buy it.”

“What?” Brian wrinkled his forehead. “What don’t you buy?”

“Any of it,” Riley scoffed. “Your porn sucks. You can get off to this shit?” She turned to Benny in mock accusation. “And you, I thought you were cool – you call yourself bisexual?”

Benny placed a hand on his chest in mock affront. “I did not choose this.”

Brian became predictably defensive. “This isn’t the good part.” He took the remote. “Look.” He clicked ahead and confirmed my theory about random still frames of porn not being particularly attractive, featuring in turn, the girl with her face scrunched up; male pattern baldness: a top-down view; some pubic hair; and a big, blurry dick. “Look, here’s where they line up.”

“Ooooh.” Riley waved a hand. “Standing in queue – the ultimate sex act.”

She turned and looked at him seriously. “Look, we’re at 17:54. This thing is 24 minutes. I’ll give you $50 if you can come before the end.”

He opened his mouth, and raised a finger in a gesture often used for rules clarifications like, ‘how will turn order progress in the next game of Catan if the winner elects not to place a town first?’ Riley cut him off. “No rewinds, no still frames.”

Brian shook his head. “No bet.”

“It’s not a bet. You’d be stupid not to take it. You don’t have to put up anything.”

Brian couldn’t argue with that, but opened his mouth to try.

“Look,” Riley continued. “Benny’s already seen you jerk it. Rob, cover your eyes.” I did for a moment before splitting my fingers and looking at her á la Kate Hudson in *Almost Famous.* “It’s basically the same as that.”

“I’m not jacking it alone.”

“Benny can participate. I’m just not gonna pay him.”

“I don’t need your money.”

“He doesn’t need my money. And look-“ Riley unbuttoned the jeans she was wearing. “I’m wearing shorts underneath. If it makes you feel better, I’ll try to jill one out.” Her voice trailed off, indicating that it would clearly be impossible.

Brian looked at her as she slipped a hand into her shorts. She locked eyes in the screen in mock concentration and then her glance darted over to him. “You’re wasting time. 5:15 left.”

Brian’s hand probed his crotch. He gave a cursory stroke, clearly with nowhere near the gusto he was going to need to win the wager. Riley glared at him.

I slipped a hand under her shirt, tracing my finger along the underside of her boob as I leaned and whispered in her ear, “You owe me for this.” Riley looked into my eyes, her tongue darted out, and she licked my lip. This was known to be the most ridiculous form of kiss that Riley would muster and it meant, ‘here’s a kiss, but don’t read anything into it’. She used it like some people would use on a peck on the cheek. Except, I suppose, it also meant she was willing to lick your face.

“Shit, Brian,” Riley said breathily, an obvious exaggeration to me, but perhaps not to someone who hadn’t had sex with her ten times in the past three days. “Rob is trying to handicap for you.”

“Yeah, man.” Benny abruptly pulled down his pants to reveal his hardening cock. “You’re embarrassing movie night.”

Brian looked to the screen and did a quick calculation. His time was rapidly waning, but his vodka-slick brain apparently judged it might be enough. He loosened the drawstring of the sweatpants he was wearing and demurely began beating off on the couch.

Two minutes passed. To all outward appearances, Riley might have actually been trying to climax. Apparently judging that it was time to raise the pressure, she leaned into me again. “Rob, it’s hot in here. Can you take off your shirt? I want to see your chest.”

I saw no reason not to comply. In retrospect, I see a lot of reasons not to comply. That’s the multiplicative arousing effect of Riley and vodka, I guess. She kissed my collarbone and assumed a semi-reclined position with her face against my chest, the screen in view, and her hand in her tight gym shorts.

Apropos of nothing, Benny also took off his shirt, apparently to use as an ass-coaster on the ottoman. He continued in earnest in just his socks.

With thirty seconds to go, Brian closed his eyes and pumped his fist over his spit-slick dick. Riley stopped rubbing her pussy and watched. She gently offered me one of her fingers, which I licked clean.

Benny looked over at Brian. “You want my help?”

Brian considered it a moment, but went back to his work. His head was turned upward resting on the back of the sectional. He glanced occasionally back to the screen or down to his crotch, presumably to ensure his dick was still there. Everyone watched as the last few seconds ticked off, but a post gangbang impromptu interview (in which Brainy Girl claimed it had been, “like, awesome”) was probably not doing anything useful for Brian. Or anyone. Why would anyone ever volitionally watch a ‘behind the scenes’ retrospective of twenty minutes of dudes nutting on tits? There’s really not that much to unpack.

Brian continued for a few seconds after the video ended and looked around. His hand stopped but didn’t leave his pants. “I wasn’t really trying.”

“Mhmm.” Riley nodded and moved her finger from my lip, delicately tasting it as she sat back up. She pronounced her verdict. “Your spank material is horrendous and ineffective.”

“Well, it’s maybe not your cup of tea-“

“No, it isn’t, but it’s apparently not even yours. Benny, is this your jam?”

“It’s a little one dimensional,” Benny admitted, his hand on his lap covering perhaps sixty percent of his dick.

“It’s just dumb. Rob, is it dumb?” She looked up at me with doe eyes.

“It’s dumb.” I gecko-licked her forehead in reciprocation. Riley squeezed her eyes shut and smiled.

“What, have you seen better?”

Riley responded, still looking at me. “Please, I’ve made better.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

“No, you said you’ve made better. You and… Rob?” Brian tried to seize on the opportunity.

Riley flushed just a touch and looked over at him. “No, not Rob. A solo engagement.” Silence hung in the air.

Good old Benny: “Can we… see it?”

Riley sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ll find it now anyway.” She grabbed the remote and punched away on the on-screen keyboard.

“Holy shit, you’re ‘RiledUp’?” Benny stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Are you familiar with my work?”

“Um… no.”

[continued in comments below]

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/gkm8hj/my_quarantine_survival_guide_part_3_internet_porn