Harry was hard at work on his carpentry project in the morning, though he was in a less dour mood than usual. As I walked out with my coffee, he whistled in time with his hammer.
“Slept well?” I asked.
“Not especially, why?”
“Was that ‘Hot Cross Buns?’ “
“A good night, I guess,” he said. “I saw flickers of the old Clara.”
“Oh.” I felt a surprising pang. “It’s consummated, then?” I asked, trying to keep a jovial tone.
“I wouldn’t say that, but…” and he trailed off, balancing a board with his knee as he nailed it in place.
That night, for the first time since Clara’s arrival, I was woken by the faint sound of moaning through the vents. I recognized it, of course, and again found myself so consumed with jealous thoughts—had he finally just pinned her against the wall? Thrown her onto the mattress? Torn open her nightie?—that I was unable to sleep.
I turned to Maddie, asleep with her back to me. I glanced over her naked back, down to where the sheet draped so soundly across her bum, a hint of cleavage there. I gave my finger a lick, touched it to her lower back, then began to slip it lower, glacially into the crevasse of her cheeks.
Maddie jumped a bit when I found it—the small circle, the gentle give—but I felt her ever so slightly begin to accept the soft tip of my finger. But as I pushed, she leapt again at the first sign of depth. She turned to me, kissed my cheek, then fell back asleep.
***
Clara stood on the back porch the next morning, looking radiant. She leaned against a pillar and watched Harry haul a large beam.
“He must be thrilled,” I said, nodding toward her bulging beast of a husband. “Sounds like you left the convent last night.”
She kicked my shin without looking at me.
“Done saving yourself?” I asked.
“If you must know,” she said, “I let him do the same thing I let you do with your mouth.”
“It’s okay if there was more.” I moved my hand beneath her dress, confident I wouldn’t be seen by anyone at this angle. “You can’t stay a virgin forever.”
“Maybe I’m still deciding who to give it to,” Clara said, pressing her ass back against my palm.
“You didn’t give him this?” Harry looked in our direction and we both waved as I hooked a finger beneath the strap of her thong.
She waited until Harry was busy with his hammer. “That’s just for you,” she said over her shoulder.
***
Again that night I was woken by the distant croon of her moans, more rhythmic than the night before. I laid there waiting for a change in cadence, something to reassure me that he wasn’t banging her against an armoire. But every pause was followed by a new pattern of breathless satisfaction.
I grabbed my robe from the back of a chair, kissed Maddie on the shoulder, and left for the east wing.
I didn’t hear much as I approached their bedroom from the hallway. I thought perhaps it was done. That whatever had happened had happened. But as I got closer I heard Harry’s low groans, deep and mellow. Pressing my ear to the door, I heard Clara, a velvety purr, but muffled as if her mouth were full. This was fine, I thought. Acceptable behavior.
I heard a loud spank. A giggle. A period of silence. Then Clara, the slow, swelling sigh of a deep pleasure, soon broken into short, panting bursts. And Harry, overcome by a labored grunting, an occasional muttering of his wife’s name. And, crucially, a steady, rhythmic smacking sound for which I found it impossible to imagine an innocent explanation.
I tested the doorknob. It was unlocked, but I thought better of it and walked away.
Returning to my room, I heard music from downstairs. Following the sound, I discovered that it came from the lab, where Madison was hunched over a computer—my computer, in fact. I knew I should have asked what she was doing, what could be keeping her up so late when the project was all but complete, but I didn’t. I frankly didn’t care. The professor, I decided, could handle his own affairs.
Opening my bedroom door, I saw Maddie sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the sheet to her chest. She sighed and glanced toward the vent with a pout.
“They woke me up,” she said.
I took a pillow and tossed it against the grate.
She wrapped her arms around my legs and rested her head against my stomach as I stood in front of her.
“Where did you go?” Maddie asked.
“They woke me up, too, so I went to get a glass of water.”
I brushed my fingers through her hair. She pressed a sleepy kiss against the fabric of my robe.
Perhaps driven by the far-off sound of Clara’s want, Maddie slid her arms around me through the opening of the robe. She again rested her head against me for a moment, then softly kissed my bare stomach. As Clara groaned, Maddie uncinched my belt. She kissed lower, across the bone of my pelvis. She pushed me back a step, let the sheet fall from her chest, then knelt on the floor between the bed and I.
It’s clear in hindsight when the shift occurred. Maddie, her blonde hair nearly white in the moonlight. Her eyes, staring up at me, as round as her puckered mouth as her head glided toward me then away, toward me then away. Maddie, taking her time as she always did, her hands placed unhurriedly on her knees. She could spend an eternity at this pace, making me beg, until I became pent to such a frenzy that she could remove her mouth entirely, take her waiting breasts in her hands, then send me into convulsions with only the slightest flicks of her tongue.
But after a few moments of her demure performance, Maddie began to act strangely. She suddenly seemed unable to control her appetite. She closed her eyes, moaning as she sucked more vigorously. She sat upright on her knees, squeezing her left breast as she tilted her head in new angles. She pressed my cock up flat against my stomach, licked longingly along the underside, then let it drop back into her mouth as she wrapped a hand around the base. When I warned her that this was too much, that I couldn’t last this way, she rose just enough to sit on the bed. She squeezed her arms together, held one hand across her nipples to keep me from slipping away, then began pumping my cock between her pert breasts.
“Oh my god,” she panted. “I can’t believe it worked.”
I had no idea what she meant; I was too close to respond.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” she said, but I was too gone to concentrate. “Why can’t I just be satisfied with your big cock?” More was said. I heard the word “open,” I heard the word “borrow.” I didn’t know what they meant. Then, more clearly, I heard the words “touch,” “hard,” and “swallow.”
I watched as I came, a sudden rush of white which fell across Maddie’s chin, the corner of her mouth, followed by diminutive bursts, then a thin, steady flow. The overflowing of the well. An alabaster veil across her décolleté.
Maddie licked a drop from her lip, then used the sheet to wipe her chest and neck. She wiped me, as well, wrapping the cotton around my still-erect cock, dabbing it dry.
“I should get a shower,” she said. “Do you forgive me?”
“Maddie,” I said, catching my breath. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Maddie,” she repeated softly with a nervous smile. “I only need to use her for a little bit.” She stood and gave my cock one last apologetic squeeze. She walked toward the bathroom, but instead of entering, she kept walking to the hallway door. She wiped her hands on the underside of her bum before turning the knob. She checked down both ends of the hallway, then she slipped—her lithe, naked body—from my door to Madison’s.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/11t1545/forever_hung_part_18_scifi_slow_burn_all