This chapter is the darkest and cruelest yet. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride. Writing this story has been an odd experience, a sort of channeling my greatest fears and insecurities and turning those into something erotic, raw, and wrong. I can’t say I understand some of these impulses within me, nor why I find them so erotic (perhaps I am a masochist!), but I hope some of you can enjoy the depravity along with me.

Now, have fun!

Without my direct influence, the healing begins.

It’s difficult at first. Cory is angry every day. The steroids do not help his temper, feeding his self-righteousness and keeping the flame of hatred alive for weeks after I’m gone. Even without me there to worship him, he injects, he lifts, he pumps iron until his body aches and his heart screams out for rest and maybe, just maybe, if he gets big enough, I will return to him.

I do not.

Tanner is patient with him. Part of it is the vow they made all those years ago, a vow to honor the other through thick and thin. Cory may have trampled all over it, but to Tanner, it is the guiding light that keeps him by his husband’s side. Through every slammed door and silent meal, Tanner holds onto the silent hope that the storm will pass and the man he fell in love with will return to him.

Slowly, bit by bit, the flame of resentment dies down. Cory no longer flinches under Tanner’s touch. The memory of my caress begins to fade. The taste of my lips and smell of my cunt seem further and further away. No longer does our lust block out the small, steady love for his husband that beats underneath.

He agrees to go to counseling. They work with a real sex therapist this time, a puny vegan man with frosted tips who specializes in working with infidelity. He helps Cory unpack the reasons why he strayed, the excuses he made and the promises he broke.

When Cory breaks down in tears one day, it is a breakthrough. He is so sorry. He is so fucking sorry. Tanner hugs him, holding his husband close to his chest as he sobs like a baby. They are going to make it through this. God help them, they will.

I watch it all from the shadows, every delicious minute of it. This is my favorite part, you see. The moment when the rat chews off its own leg and escapes from the trap, wounded but alive. Scurrying along the ground, seeking the safety of its den. Not knowing I’ve trapped it in a maze of my own design, drawing ever closer to its own destruction.

Cory and Tanner are healthier than they’ve ever been. Their marriage is strong, the sex is as wild and passionate as it was in the early days, and Cory has not had thoughts of straying in months. They can see the light at the end of the tunnel—they are going to be all right.

Until, one dark and stormy night, I glide across the floor, my form shrouded in shadow, and slither into the depths of Cory’s sleeping mind.

I find him encased in a memory. It is a happy one: he is dreaming of his wedding day. Tanner stands beside him at the altar, eyes filled with tears as he looks at his soon-to-be husband. Cory beams down at him with the hope of a man blissfully unaware of his own doom.

Silent as a rat, I sneak up behind the officiant and, with a flick of my claws, slit his throat. He clutches helplessly at his neck, but I’ve already cast him behind me, the sounds of his gurgling unnoticed by the happy couple.

If anyone has an objection as to why these two shall not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace.

Cory knows it’s me before he looks. He turns in slow horror, his eyes practically bulging from their sockets.

I am filled with glee.

“Hi, Cory. Miss me?”

“Noooooo,” he moans. “Not you. Please.”

“What’s the matter?” I step toward him, enjoying the way he quivers. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

He closes his eyes. “Go away. I’m doing good. We’re doing good. I don’t want you.”

“But that’s not true, is it, Cory?” I run a finger along his cheek, making him tremble. “You do want me. You’ve always wanted me. Even before all this, before you really knew me. Your body knew I was out here somewhere, waiting to be claimed. Isn’t that right, pet?”

His eyes are still closed, but when I grab his jaw, he opens them. He is terrified, so terrified, but he wants me.

“All you have to do is take me, Cory,” I whisper. “I’m all yours.”

He tackles me to the ground, his body crushing me into the steps of the church where he said his vows. He stares into my eyes, searching for something, anything to excuse the desire burning through him. Then, finding nothing, he kisses me.

I snap my fingers.

Cory shoots up in bed, soaked with sweat.

“What the fuck?” he says, his breathing heavy and choppy.

He looks over at his husband, still asleep, none the wiser. His eyes flit over the dark corners of the room, but he cannot see me receding into the shadows.

The next morning, he makes an appointment with the vegan sex therapist for the first time in weeks. As it happens, the man has a cancellation just that afternoon. Can he do 12:30?

Cory shows up early. He sits in the waiting room, bouncing his leg, counting the seconds until he can throw himself at the mercy of a man he trusts, empty himself of the sinful thoughts he thought he’d buried for good.

A sudden knocking sound makes him look up.

What was that?

There it is again. And again. Unsteady, uneven knocks. Something banging carelessly against the wall.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He gets to his feet, each step toward the door filling him more and more with dread.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His hand is on the knob. He does not know what is on the other side, not for sure. But a part of him, that part he thought he’d buried, knows exactly what he will see.

He prays for the willingness to leave. He will find another therapist, seek counsel elsewhere, anything to avoid finding the source of that awful, horrible banging noise on the other side of that door.

He turns the knob and flings the door open. The vegan sex therapist is braced against the far wall, his pants around his ankles, his bare ass thrusting away like a madman.

“Oh, fuck… oh, Jesus… FUCK!”

He latches his mouth to his lover’s neck, sucking the tender flesh as he buries his cock in the warmest, tightest pleasure he’s ever known.

I hold his head to my neck, lock eyes with Cory, and wink. “Hi, baby. Miss me?”

He watches in frozen horror as the man who has earned his trust week after week violates the thing he thought he’d left behind forever. He sees me gripping the vegan’s ass, pressing him deeper into me. He hears my gleeful moans, the lilting giggles that escape my lips as I beg this nothing of a man to fuck me deeper, harder, faster.

Cory’s hands curl into fists. He is shaking now, the anger returning in a surge so violent I wonder briefly how far he will go to reclaim what’s his.

The vegan has not even noticed the interruption. I can hardly blame him.

“Your pussy is so sweet,” he groans.

Cory’s eyes are vengeful slits. In two strides, he is across the room, his hand on the vegan’s shoulder. He throws him off of me, sending him skittering across the ground, his cock flinging around his precum and my juices.

“What the FUCK!” he cries out.

Cory ignores him. Instead, he takes his rightful place, crushing me against the wall as his lips meet mine. His hands work quickly, releasing himself from his jeans and burying his tool in me to the hilt. I cry out in mock pain, egging him on. I whisper how I’ve missed him, beg him to show me how a real man fucks.

The vegan watches from his place on the ground, in awe of our sex, his cock still hard and dripping.

“Ugh… ugh.. ARGH!” Cory grunts. His hips smack against my taint, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds me off the ground and rapes my hole. “You’re fucking mine,” he growls, his forehead banging against mine, his eyes on fire.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, letting him conquer me.

“Mine… mine… MINE!”

Now he is the one making the banging noise, slamming our bodies against the wall in a frantic rhythm. He is an animal, a wild fucking animal, and the only thing that matters in this moment is reclaiming my body from the weak man who thought he could ever have me. He grunts, huffs, growls like a feral beast, until, with an anguished groan, he marks me as his at last.

From that moment on, it’s as if we never stopped. Cory comes to my place every evening after work, using my body like he’s afraid I will take it away again. Every night, when he’s finished taking his pleasure from my flesh, he holds me close and asks me to be his. He repeats his promise to take care of me, the childish fantasies he spins where we run off together to live in sin.

Each night I say the same thing.

Not yet, my love.

It doesn’t take long for Tanner to notice the change in his husband. At first, he tells himself that he is imagining things. Cory has been stressed at work lately. He is probably just tired; there’s no reason to jump to conclusions. They’ve been doing so well, he wouldn’t throw that all away. Would he?

But the suspicion persists. Promises to be home for dinner turn into stumbling into bed just before midnight. Mysterious bruises, scratches, and marks start to appear on his husband’s skin again. And the smell, that godforsaken smell that haunted him for months, clings to Cory’s clothes like sickness.

Tanner goes back to see the vegan. He seeks his counsel. Could Cory be cheating on him again? What should he do?

“I think you’re being paranoid,” says the vegan. “I’ve been seeing Cory once a week for the last month, and he’s doing great. Don’t mess up the progress you’ve been achieving.”

“I just can’t get rid of this voice in the back of my head that says something is wrong,” says Tanner. “It’s… it’s like this dark cloud. I can feel it moving closer, whenever I’m not looking, this subtle dread that something bad is going to happen. And I’m powerless to stop it.”

“Be careful,” the vegan warns. “These things have a way of becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you push him away… he very well may end up cheating because of it.”

In truth, he does see Cory once a week. My lover has agreed to share me for only an hour, a necessary evil to maintain his cover and continue gaslighting his husband. On Mondays at noon, I am laid out on the desk, receiving sacrament on both ends from my devoted acolytes. They cannot get enough of me, so sweet is the taste of my flesh.

“God, your mouth is so soft,” the vegan moans as he facefucks me.

“His cunt’s even better,” grunts Cory.

“I can see why you didn’t want to give this up. It’s fucking incredible.”

The sound of Cory clapping my cheeks mixes with his laughter. “So much better than Tanner.”

“I– ungh… can imagine.”

“He still suspicious?”

The vegan gasps as I massage his cockhead with my throat. “Oh fuck… No, I told him that all his suspicion is pushing you away… yeah, lick my balls… that you’re pulling away because you don’t feel safe with him… mmmmmmmm and he needs to look at his own behavior and deal with his– FUCK– insecurity…”

Cory laughs. “God, he’s so fucking stupid. I can’t believe he buys this shit.” He rubs his thumb over the head of my cock, swiping off my precum and relubing his dick before sinking in once more. “Not that I’m complaining…”

The vegan is too busy getting his balls gargled. “Ohhhhhh… that tongue… yeah, he believes whatever I tell him. Dumb little cuck.”

The men unload inside of me, laughing at their unbridled pleasure and Tanner’s gullibility. Then they douse me in their piss, boasting their masculinity and reveling in their role as conqueror. My corruption has so deeply rooted itself in both of them that their fate is unchangeable. I could end it all now, conclude my little soul experiment with flying colors, knowing they’re destined for the lake of fire like all my other pets—but there is SO much more to be done with Tanner.

The game isn’t over just yet.

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True to his word, Cory returns to his husband within the hour. He kisses him on the cheek, tells him it’s finished, he’s broken things off once and for all. His husband doesn’t notice the messiness of his hair, his swollen lips or his depleted cock. He is too blinded by hope, the hope that the worst is behind them and things will finally go back to the way they were.

For a short time, they do. The next few weeks, we are discreet. I meet Cory during his lunch break at work, stealing half an hour with him in his Range Rover in the car park. He is just as hungry for me as he was before, unable to imagine what his sad little life would be like without me.

“You could never give me up, could you?” I ask as I ride his cock.

“Never,” he moans.

“He can’t satisfy you like I can.”

“N-no… he can’t.”

I stop moving, cradling his face in my hands. “He has no idea you’re still fucking me, does he?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No.”

I smile. “What a fucking cuck.”

He can’t help but smile, too. “Yeah,” he echoes. “He’s a fucking cuck.”

Cory is becoming more comfortable disparaging his husband. He knows it turns me on. If Tanner cannot hear us, what is the harm? If he cannot see us fuck, does not know about the deception or the betrayal, then why not indulge till our lips are stained and our lust sated?

With Cory’s debasement well underway, I begin my work on Tanner. When I destroy a couple, I like to dole out the pain in equal measure. Corrupting Cory has been sweeter than I could have imagined, but there is still so much more to be mined from the little one.

Tanner meets me for coffee on Friday mornings before his yoga class. It’s become our new little routine, a chance for him to confide in the one friend who knows about his husband’s infidelity. Cory’s cheating has bound us together, cementing my role as confidant and counselor. If he only knew.

He will soon enough.

“How are things with Cory?” I ask, sipping my disgustingly sweet caramel praline add-shot half-n-half latte.

“Better,” he says. “I think what happened forced us to confront some hard truths about our marriage. Things neither one of us wanted to look at, but we had to work through anyway.”

“So, the sex is back to normal?”

He nods, though a shadow crosses his face. “I guess so.”

“Diva… be real with me. Is there something lacking?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. I’m enjoying it, but Cory… It just seems like he’s not really there.”

I feign surprise. “You don’t think he’s missing that slut he was having the affair with?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I shake my head incredulously. “I have to say, Tanner, I’m surprised. I’ve never met someone with so little agency.”

His eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Cory isn’t the only hot one in the marriage! Look at you, girl. You’re sexy as fuck. You’ve got a great little body and that cute little face. Sure, you’re not as big and muscly as Cory is, but some guys like furry little cubs.” I take another sip of my disgusting beverage and shrug one shoulder. “I know I do.”

Tanner smiles a little bit. It’s been so long since anyone has paid him attention, made him feel sexy or desired. “So how exactly do I ‘reclaim my agency’?”

“Have you ever considered a threesome?”

His smile disappears. “I don’t want an open relationship,” he says quickly.

I laugh gaily. “Of course not, girly pop! I only bring it up as a way for you to explore outside attractions in a safe way. Together. Your husband gets the freedom he needs while still respecting the boundaries you created together.” I wink. “Plus, it’d be a great way to make him jealous.”

He laughs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I say, sliding my hand onto his leg, “it wouldn’t hurt to show him that he’s not the only one who guys wanna fuck.”

He tenses up at my touch. “I don’t know,” he lies. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that after everything.”

I keep my hand on his leg, squeezing him softly. “Think about it. We could show him what he’s taking for granted. Imagine the look on his face when he watches us kiss.”

I slide my hand slowly up his leg, toward the cock that grows thicker and longer under his jeans, out of sight but not out of mind. “Can you picture it? How jealous he’ll be seeing your cock in my mouth? You’ll make him wait, force him to watch while you fuck me in front of him. Until he can’t take any more, and he just takes you. Him fucking you, you fucking me. Doesn’t that sound hot?”

He is overwhelmed with lust. How could he not be? It’s been so long since he’s been fucked by someone who truly desires him. His husband has been distracted by someone hotter than him, but now the hottest man he’s ever met is showing him attention. He wants it, craves it, but fears it, too.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, moving his leg away from my grip.

I pull my hand away and return it to my coffee cup, draining the dregs of this revolting human concoction. “Of course. I just wanna help, kween.”

Tanner cannot wait to get home before he starts jerking off. He sits in his car in the open lot, hand in his undies, tugging himself as he imagines the fantasy I’ve put in his head. Why shouldn’t he get to have a little fun? It’s only right, after the hell Cory’s put him through. Why not make his husband jealous? And, at the same time, fuck someone so out of his league, so beautiful it’s almost blinding. Couldn’t he have his cake and eat it too?

When he cums, it shoots out of him so forcefully that it ruins his favorite shirt. He cleans himself as best he can, then grabs his phone and sends me a single text.

I’m in.

The date is set for that Saturday evening. Cory is surprised by Tanner’s offer, but agrees to go along with it for his sake.

How generous of him.

When I arrive, there is a noticeable tension in the air. Tanner is flitting about nervously, rearranging pillows and swiping imaginary dust from the coffee table. Cory is excited but feigning disinterest.

“Evening, boys.” I curl up on the couch like a panther, tucking my legs under me as I smile at my prey.

Tanner and his husband share a look, a silent exchange to cement their union before letting this stranger in to play.

“So… how should we start this?” asks Tanner.

I laugh. “Maybe you could offer me a drink first.”

Tanner is so embarrassed. He excuses himself to the kitchen to grab me a beverage. Then he is gone, and it is only Cory and me.

“Are you sure about this?” he says quietly.

“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” I ask.

He tries to hide his smile, but his face is an open book. He wants me now, wants to take me in front of his husband. To flaunt his virility under the guise of open, honest communication.

But when I cross over to him, sauntering across the floor like I have all the time in the world, his eyes show fear.

“Wait,” he says as I slide onto his lap. “Tanner–”

“I don’t care about him,” I whisper, then crush my lips against his.

He is moaning in my mouth, too loud, too risky with Tanner so close by. But he cannot help himself, as his hands slide across my body, squeezing my perfect ass, pulling me into him so he can press his engorged manhood into me and show me exactly how much he needs me.

I imagine the look on Tanner’s face when he walks back in, when he finds his friend making out with his husband on a night that was supposed to be All About Him. It is so tempting, so juicy, so intoxicating that I almost allow myself to bring it to fruition.

But no—that is not how this night will go. Not yet, at least.

When Tanner returns, I am back in my chair, hands folded neatly in my lap. Cory is completely neutral, save for the sweat on his brow and the hardness he hides behind a throw pillow.

“Here you guys go,” says Tanner, handing Cory and me a beer.

“Thanks, babe,” I say, winking. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m excited! It’s not every day you get asked to have fun with such a handsome couple.”

Tanner looks at Cory and smiles, taking my lover’s hand into his own and squeezing it softly. “We’ve never done anything like this before. But we thought, why not switch things up?”

“I think it’s healthy.”

Tanner and Cory share another glance, an unspoken exchange of dread.

“What is it?” I ask.

Cory looks at me and sighs. “One of our agreements is to use a condom,” he says apologetically. “I hope that’s okay.”

I beam. “Whatever you two want. I’m just happy to be here.”

I take a single, slow swallow of my beer, just enough to wet my throat. Then I set the bottle down and walk slowly over to the couch where, moments ago, I was writhing in the lap of Tanner’s husband. They look up at me, curious as to what I will do, this unknown factor in their marriage. Cory is the first to let go of Tanner’s hand, sitting up straight as he prepares for me to choose him.

Joke’s on you, lover.

I put my hands on Tanner’s shoulders, steadying myself as I sink onto his lap. His hands go automatically to my waist, his eyes finding my own in a slight mix of fear and excitement.

“Touch me,” I moan, slowly rolling my hips as I grind myself onto his cock.

Tanner is breathing heavily, his senses overwhelmed by the handsome, perfect man on his lap. Before he follows my command, he looks to his husband. Still faithful to him even now, a single glance that asks his permission.

Cory gives it with a nod. He wishes it was his lap I was sitting on, but he’ll take what he can get.

Tanner squeezes my waist, and I reward him with a soft, low moan.

“Take off my shirt,” I say, barely above a whisper.

I raise my arms, exposing my perfect, sculpted stomach as he strips me of my top. He actually gasps when he sees my naked torso for the first time, the inhuman perfection of my pale white skin and abs. His fingers trace me softly, as if trying desperately to convince himself that I am real and not a mirage.

I tilt his chin to the sky, and soon our lips intertwine. He is moaning through our kiss, so close to orgasm, though we have barely just begun. I grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back, just enough to hurt, just enough to let him know that I am the one in control.

His hands are on my sides, my chest, my neck. He is thrusting up against my body, whining in frustration at the clothes that separate us. He is a bottom, but he wants to be inside me. He knows how good it will feel with more certainty than he knows his own name.

All the while, Cory watches, rubbing himself through his pants, torn between his hunger at the scene in front of him and his throbbing need to take me for himself.

I bring Tanner’s mouth to my neck, moaning as he kisses the tender spot just beneath my throat. My head is tilted toward Cory, my secret lover, the acolyte of my corruption. I smile as we lock eyes, passing our secret back and forth like electricity, while his unknowing husband enjoys but a taste of the pleasure I can provide.

His eyes are orgasmic, full of lust, fury, jealousy. He hates his husband in this moment, wants nothing more than to rip me away from him and punish him for thinking he could ever have me. His hatred is like honey in my mouth, sweet in its sinfulness.

Then my mouth is on Tanner’s again. My hips move faster, my ass pressing into his hard cock and teasing him closer and closer to the edge. He does not want to stop, not when he feels such bliss, but if he does not, he will spill his seed before he’s even begun.

“S-sam,” he chokes out. “Wait–”

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I do not contact Cory after the events at the club.

For a week, I am radio silent. No Snapchat posts. No texts.

Then, on Saturday evening, I post a single video to Snapchat.

Deleting in 10 mins, reads the caption.

In the video, I am wearing nothing but a pair of light gray briefs. I film myself in front of a mirror, standing sideways as if I am shy of my body.

I do not feel things like shyness.

I grab the waistband of the underwear and pull it slowly down. The fabric clings to my skin, revealing inch after inch of my hips, my ass, my groin. The underwear is caught on my cock, which is hard. I lower it till it tucks underneath my ass cheek, causing the flesh to jiggle slightly.

I look at the camera and wink.

Cory views the video after 23 seconds.

Each night, I post a new video: tugging my hard cock through my underwear, writhing on my bed with my ass hanging out, pinching my nipples with one hand as the other one moves rapidly just below the screen.

Cory watches all of them, saying nothing. He does not need to. I know he wants me.

He is sitting in his apartment, feeling sick to his stomach as he watches these videos over and over again. He looks over at his sleeping husband, terrified that Tanner will wake and see the truth on his screen. But still he watches, he lusts, he touches himself to images of me, wishing I was the one lying beside him.

“Cory? Is that you?”

He is in the middle of a barbell row when I approach him. I am dressed in a string tank top and black workout shorts, a protein shaker clutched in one hand. He is in a pair of gray shorts and a muscle tee. He stops what he is doing and looks up at me as if he has seen a ghost.

“Oh… hey, Sam.”

“I didn’t know you went to this gym,” I say.

He looks around, as if afraid Tanner will pop out at any moment.

“Uh, yeah. Have been for years.”

I smile. “Mind if I hop in for a workout with you? I could use a spotting buddy. I still don’t know, like, anyone in this city.”

He wants to say no. He is trying, in the poor reaches of his mind, to think of some excuse as to why he cannot help me.

“Sure,” he says. His weakness has won out.

We work out together for 36 minutes. I copy his exercises, working in with him with lesser weight.

“I can’t believe how much you can lift,” I croon.

He enjoys being around me. He is trying not to get hard as he shows me the proper form for a barbell row. His hand pushes my back down.

“Flat as a bench,” he says. His fingertips stay on my shirt a moment too long.

When the workout is over, I accompany him to the locker room.

“You headed home after this?” I ask casually as I strip off my shirt.

He glances at my body only once before burying his head in his locker.

“Gonna hit the steam room.”

“I’ll join you.”

He knows he is trapped. He knows there is only one way out—to tell me this cannot happen. To ask me to forget what happened in the bathroom. To remind me of his love for his husband.

But he is weak.

“Okay,” he says, and he is already mine.

We sit in the steam room, towels draped around our waists. His body is heavy, muscular. His hair sticks to his chest, and I feel an almost animalistic compulsion to lick him. But I am in control of my baser desires.

He is not.

“That totally wrecked me,” I say, leaning back and letting the towel drape open.

He looks. It is not enough to expose me. Just my left leg, my inner thigh, a few wisps of pubic hair.

I pretend to close my eyes, but I can see him stare. I can see the tent in his towel. I know he will give in.

I do not say anything. I reach under my towel and put my hand on my cock. I slowly stroke myself, almost absentmindedly. It is as if he is not there. He watches, his jaw agape. He wants to touch himself. He is scared. He is scared of his desire for me.

“Mmmm…” I moan softly, stretching my legs as I continue to tug myself. I am writhing now. The storm is gathering, my pinnacle near.

Cory watches, his own hand tugging his foreskin. He is no longer hiding it, though he still wears his towel.

My towel has long since fallen to the ground. I open my eyes and catch his gaze. My face is contorted in a mixture of pleasure and need. His face is slack with lust. It is as if he is intoxicated.

“Oh,” I moan. “I’m close…”

I look at him, then my cock. He knows what I want. He knows it will cross the line. He wants to cross the line.

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This tale is not for the faint of heart. The villain will win, the heroes will lose, and there will be no happy ending—for anyone, that is, except our Demon Twink.

If you enjoy cuckolding stories that twist your gut and get your blood pumping, where degradation and betrayal make you angry and horny in equal measure, where the things that turn you on clash violently with the values you hold dear—this story is for you.

If not…

Reader Beware.

When I walk into the bar, I can feel every eye in the place land on me.

I can’t blame them. My form is beautiful, my face and body practically carved from marble. My hair is dark as coal, my jaw clean-shaven and sharp enough to cut granite. I stand roughly 6 feet tall, my toned muscles clearly visible in the slim-cut jeans and skin-tight t-shirt that adorn my body. My skin is pale as a ghost, my lips pouty and pink, but it’s my eyes that they can’t look away from—icy blue, like the frozen lake in the deepest circle of hell.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

A muscular blonde human stands in front of me, dressed in a tight tank top and loose pair of jeans. He has probably never had that question answered with anything other than a resounding yes.

“No thanks,” I say coolly as I push past him into the crowd.

I’m not looking for just any hunk of meat tonight. Yes, there will be sex. But not with just anyone. I’m looking for something specific. Someone to destroy.

Or someones, rather.

I spot them at a table in the corner roughly six minutes after I arrive. The shorter one is approximately 30 years old. He’s what this crowd might call a “cub,” a young and hairy brunette man with a slight belly. The taller one is dark-haired and possibly Middle Eastern, with bigger muscles and a thick, black mustache.

I watch them for a few minutes, seeing the way the taller one rubs his partner’s lower back. Tender. Every so often, the short one looks up at his beloved and smiles with the kind of love you only see from the happiest of couples.

They are my target.

I wait until the tall one leaves for the restroom. This is my moment.

When the little one’s back is turned, I approach, jostling him with my elbow.

“Oh my god!” I exclaim. “I am so sorry.”

I’ve knocked his drink over. He’s irritated, but he covers it up with a smile.

“It’s all right,” he says kindly. “It’s really crowded in here, isn’t it?”

He would not be so nice to me if he knew what I had planned for him.

I offer to buy him a new drink, which he initially declines. But I push, insisting. It’s only right. What is he drinking? Vodka cranberry? I approach the bar, immediately drawing the bartender’s attention. He ignores everyone else to give me what I want. He does not ask me to pay, nor do I tip him.

“Here you go,” I say, handing him his drink. “My name’s Sam, by the way.”

He tells me his name is Tanner. I ask him about his job, though I do not care. He works from home. He does something in sales. He lives with his husband.

“How long have you been married?”

Five years. They met in college. He’s the love of his life.

“Sorry, the lineup took forever,” his husband says once he returns. His hand drifts to Tanner’s lower back. “Who’s this?”

I introduce myself. He tells me his name is Cory. He’s an investment banker. He tries to keep his eyes on mine, but several times throughout the conversation, I catch him looking at my body, my lips, my crotch.

I know that I will have him.

“What neighborhood are you in?” asks Tanner.

“I’ve only just moved to town. Still looking for a full-time place.”

“Welcome,” Cory says, smiling at me. It’s a friendly smile.

“I don’t know anyone here,” I say. “Except my old man. I moved here to take care of him. He’s in hospice. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” says Cory.

I can tell he means it. I do not have a father.

“Well, we’d be happy to show you around the neighborhood,” says Tanner.

We make plans to meet next weekend. Brunch at some trendy café downtown. Tanner seems excited. Cory is more apprehensive. I know why.

When Tanner’s in the bathroom, I put my hand on Cory’s arm. “Your husband is such a cutie,” I say.

He flinches at my touch but does not pull away. “Yeah, he’s the best.”

“He’s so lucky,” I say casually. “But I’m sure he knows that.”

The blood flows to Cory’s cheeks. He likes being complimented, even if it is at his husband’s expense.

“I’m the lucky one,” he says, finally coming to his husband’s defense.

I just smile at him. I know he will be mine.

The three of us exchange social media handles. I am delighted to find that Cory has Snapchat. It is the sluttiest of social media platforms. Perfect for what I have planned.

Over the next few days, I post images and videos from my daily life. A cappuccino with latte art. A French bulldog with an underbite. A view from the window of my Airbnb, a high-up loft that looks down on the city below.

Cory watches everything. He posts a selfie of himself and his husband out to dinner, smiling at the camera. A mirror pic at the gym, the slightest of thirst traps. Respectable for a man with a husband, but still someone who likes to be looked at.

On Wednesday, I kick things up a notch. I post one photo of myself on my bed, lying on my stomach. You can see my back, the muscles and definition of my slim, pale frame standing out from my blood-red sheets. At the edge of the frame, the top of my ass is visible, the rest hidden by the sheet.

Borrrredddddd, reads the caption.

Cory looks at it. He can see the padlock in the corner. He knows the video is for a select few, a private list that he’s been added to.

He does not know he is the only one on the list.

An hour later, I post another picture. This one shows my torso, my head cut out of the frame entirely. You can see my pale, slim body, my light pink nipples, the outlines of my abs. I have very little hair, only a slight treasure trail leading to a suggestive patch of black at the bottom of the frame.

Tipsyyyyyyyy

It is past 11. Cory is probably in bed already. Tanner may already be asleep.

He views it within six minutes.

I wait half an hour, then post one final photo. My belly button is at the top of the frame. You can see every single muscle in my abdomen, jutting out in ridges. The tops of my thighs are lightly hairy. In the center of the frame is my cock, covered by my palm. My hand grips my crotch, leaving only a flash of my dick and balls visible.

There is no caption for this one. There does not need to be.

It is midnight. Cory views it almost immediately.

I go to his profile and send him a message.

Omggggg I’m so embarrassing. Pls disregard.

He doesn’t respond for several minutes. Then:

It’s okay lol. We’ve all been there.

You’ve also had an entire bottle of Prosecco and gotten horny for your ex? I write.

Just one bottle? Lightweight.

I smile. We’re flirting already.

What can I say? Alcohol makes me horny. I make bad decisions.

No judgment here.

Does Tanner like to get frisky when he’s drunk?

The message is a risk. But I’ve been around long enough to know when it’s worth it.

Sometimes. He’s asleep right now.

Too bad. He doesn’t know what he’s missing 😛

Again, he does not respond right away.

I get pretty horny when I’m drunk, too, he eventually writes.

I smile at my screen. Then I turn my phone off and go to sleep.

I leave him till the morning.

The next day, I wake up to four messages from Cory.

Sorry if that was TMI.

You still up?

I didn’t mean to overstep.

Forget I said anything. Have a good night!

I wait until midday before responding.

Omg no you’re totally fine. It was all me. I told you, I’m nutso when I drink!

He responds almost immediately, even though he is at work.

No, it’s totally my bad. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just tired.

Of course, I write. I won’t say anything to Tanner if you won’t.

Thanks.

I come up with a last-minute conflict for Saturday morning brunch, so it winds up turning into dinner and drinks at a hotel downtown. I tell them my college roommate is in town and ask if I can bring him. They say yes.

I do not have a college roommate. They do not have college in hell.

I show up at the restaurant with a six-foot-four, muscular man. He is handsome, black, charming. He is my best friend, Asmodeus, come to do me a favor.

“I’m Mo,” he says as he shakes Cory’s hand. Then he turns to Tanner. “Hi,” he says, his voice low and filled with sex.

Tanner looks like a giddy schoolgirl. “Nice to meet you, Mo,” he says.

Cory barely notices his husband’s flirtations. He only has eyes for me.

Dinner is foreplay. The four of us chat about trivial things—Mo and I’s “college days,” Tanner and Cory’s wedding. They had 250 guests and a Neil Diamond cover band.

“It was the best day of my life,” Tanner says, smiling at his husband.

Cory watches me stretch, sees the way my shirt rides up to expose my waist. He tears his gaze from me and gives his husband a fake smile. “It was great,” he says.

Soon, dinner is over, and Mo is suggesting we head to the club for drinks and dancing. I can tell Tanner is tired, but Cory says yes before he has a chance to decline.

We go to a gay club downtown, different from the one where we met. This one is loud, crowded. Many of the men on the dancefloor are shirtless. Mo offers to get us all drinks. Tanner goes with him to help him carry them.

“Dance with me,” I say, pulling Cory onto the dancefloor.

He looks back at his husband, but I have already pulled him into the crowd.

Bodies pack in all around us. Bass music pounds in our ears. The heat is unbearable. I strip off my shirt, tucking it into my back pocket as we dance. Cory stares at my body, drinks in my pale skin and tight core.

“Come on!” I yell over the noise. “Live a little!”

I tug at the hem of his shirt. He raises his arms so I can lift his shirt off. His body is tan and beautiful. He is muscular, but not cut. His chest is covered in a rug of hair that trails down his stomach to his groin.

I grab his hand and pull him in closer. Our bodies are an inch away. The people around us crowd in closer, as if taking advantage of the extra space. There is nowhere for us to go. No one can see. Our torsos are touching. His belly is pressed against mine. I can feel his crotch against my leg. We move to the music. He is looking down, avoiding my gaze. I put my hands on his shoulders. This is not cheating. We are just friends. I run my fingers down his shoulders, across his arms. My hands are on his chest. He looks up at me. Our lips touch.

The kiss lasts barely more than a moment. He pulls away in a flash, his eyes wide with fright. One word escapes his lips. Tanner.

Then he turns and is gone.

The four of us reunite at the bar. Mo and Tanner are chatting casually, sipping gin and tonics. Cory’s shirt is back on. He does not look at me as I approach.

“I hope you like a G&T!” Tanner calls out over the noise.

He hands me my drink. He does not know.

We finish our drinks and head out to the dancefloor together. Cory still does not look at me. He dances closely with his husband while I dance with Mo.

“The little one is sexy,” Mo says in my ear.

“He’s not the one I desire,” I respond.

He laughs. “God help the poor soul that catches your eye.”

Mo and I kiss. I make sure Tanner and Cory can see. It is all part of my plan.

Cory whispers something in Tanner’s ear, then slips away. He is going to use the restroom.

This is my moment.

The restroom is dirty. A flickering light bulb hangs from the ceiling. When I walk in, Cory is standing at the urinal.

I stand next to him. I do not say anything.

We piss side by side. I do not look at him.

“That was a mistake,” he says.

When I finally look, his face is creased with fear.

“I love my husband,” he adds unconvincingly.

I say nothing. I turn ever so slightly.

He does not want to look. He tries not to look.

He looks.

He gasps at the sight of my cock. It is long and thin. I stroke it until it gets long and thick.

“Do you want to feel it?” I ask.

He says nothing. He just looks.

I take him in my hand. He is fully hard. He is thick and uncircumcised. Much larger than the average male.

“Tanner,” he whispers, but I cut him off with a kiss.

Seconds later, we are in a stall. His tongue is in my mouth. Our dicks are in each other’s hands. He is moaning. He wants me. He hates himself. He is scared. He is excited.

I slide to my knees and take him in my mouth. He braces himself with one hand against the door. His other hand goes to my head, fingers curling through my hair. He loves my tongue, the way I slide it around his cock. He does not think about his husband anymore. His only thought is me.

“Fuck… I’m cumming,” he groans.

I swallow his seed, savoring the taste of his defeat. They always give in. Some sooner, some later. But they all fall eventually.

Clarity hits him after he cums. “Fuck… what have I done?”

I stand and grab the back of his head, leaning my forehead against his. “Shhhh… It’s okay,” I say soothingly.

“But Tanner–”

“It doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t have to know.”

He looks at me, eyes wide with fright. They close when I kiss him. “It’s all right,” I whisper. “No one has to know.”

We kiss for a few minutes, gentle and sweet. When I pull back, he is calmer. “Let’s go back,” I say.

When we return, Cory is back to normal, and Tanner is none the wiser. The two men dance together, but I see Cory’s glances every now and again. I smile at him, and he smiles back.

Things are only just beginning.