Caught Cheating at the House Party

The bass from the living room speakers thumped through the floorboards, a low pulse that made the plastic cups on the kitchen counter shiver in their puddles of condensation. Callum stood with one shoulder against the fridge, twenty-four, a cold beer sweating in his hand, Katarina’s hip warm against his. They had come together the way they always did, and for the first hour he had done what a boyfriend was supposed to do. He mingled. He shook Tobias’s hand at the door and let the host shove a bottle into his palm. He stood in a loose circle with two of Katarina’s coworkers from the design firm and nodded at the right times while they argued about a client who wanted everything in gray. Katarina was twenty-four too, dark hair pinned up, a black dress that ended mid-thigh, laughing with her whole face when someone told a bad joke. They drank moderately. One beer, then a second they both nursed, the alcohol a pleasant heat in the stomach and nothing more. Callum was clear. He could have driven. He could have recited his own phone number backward. He knew, with an ugly clarity, exactly what he started wanting the moment the front door opened.

Annika came in late, the way she always did. Twenty-three, Katarina’s friend since college, the shy one who hovered at the edges of rooms and spoke only when someone asked her a direct question. She was plump, soft through the arms, full through the waist and hips, her jeans snug over a round ass, and her breasts were the first thing Callum saw and the only thing he could keep seeing. They were large, heavy, barely contained by a dark red top cut so low the inner curves pressed together in a deep line of cleavage that shifted when she breathed. The fabric looked thin. It looked like it would give if someone hooked a finger in it and pulled. She hugged Katarina, and those tits compressed against his girlfriend’s chest, and Callum’s cock twitched so hard he had to angle his hips toward the counter.

He could not stop thinking about them. Bare. Out of that top. The weight of them filling his palms, soft and warm, nipples stiffening under his thumbs. He imagined the way they would sway if she bent over. He imagined his mouth on them, the taste of her skin, the little sound she might make if he sucked. The fantasy sat behind his eyes while he smiled at Tobias and said something about the music being too loud. Katarina squeezed his arm and went to refill her cup with soda, still talking over her shoulder to a woman from work, and Callum watched Annika cross the kitchen to set her jacket on a chair. The cleavage dipped. A bead of sweat shone at the base of her throat. He wanted to see her tits so badly it felt like a hand around his throat.

That was when the plan settled. Not a vague itch. A plan. Katarina trusted him. Annika was shy and sweet and standing ten feet away with her breasts on display like she didn’t know what they did to him. He was going to try to cheat. He was going to get Annika alone, flatter her until she blushed, and see how far she would let him go. If she said no, he would stop. If she didn’t, he was going to have those tits in his hands before the night was over, and he was going to do it while his girlfriend was still in the house, laughing in the next room.

He waited until Katarina drifted toward the living room with her coworkers, her voice rising over the music as she told some story about a missed deadline. Tobias followed them with a fresh bowl of chips. The kitchen thinned. Annika stayed by the counter, turning her cup in both hands, eyes on the floor like she was deciding whether she was allowed to be there. Callum crossed the tile and stopped close enough that he could smell her perfume, something light and sweet that didn’t quite cover the warm scent of her skin.

“You look incredible tonight,” he said, low, so it wouldn’t carry. “That top. I haven’t been able to look at anything else since you walked in.”

Color climbed her throat and flooded her cheeks. She glanced toward the doorway, then back at him, lashes low. “Callum. Katarina’s right there.”

“She’s busy.” He let his eyes drop, openly, to the swell of her cleavage, and didn’t pretend he was doing anything else. “I’m not. And I’ve been thinking about these since you took your jacket off. They’re perfect. Soft. I keep wondering what they’d feel like if I got my hands on them.”

Her breath caught. She shifted her weight, and the motion made her breasts rise and settle, the neckline cutting deeper into the pale skin between them. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“I want to.” He leaned in, not touching her yet, just close. “I want you. Not later, not as a joke. Right now. You’re beautiful, Annika. That shy look you get when somebody stares — it makes me hard. I’ve been standing over there trying not to get caught staring at your tits, and I’m done trying.”

She swallowed. Her fingers tightened on the cup. For a second he thought she would step back, find Katarina, end it. Instead she looked up at him, brown eyes wide and bright, and the corner of her mouth twitched like she couldn’t quite believe she was about to answer.

“I’ve noticed you looking,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d actually say it.”

“I’m saying it.” His voice had gone rough. “Come upstairs with me. Five minutes. If you want to stop, we stop. But I need to kiss you, and I need to see what’s under that top, and I think you want that too.”

She bit her lip. The blush had spread down into the hollow of her cleavage. She nodded, small and quick, like she was afraid the nod would vanish if she held it too long. “Okay. But not where anyone can see.”

He took her hand. Her palm was warm and a little damp. He led her out of the kitchen and down the short hall past the bathroom, up the stairs where the music thinned to a muffled thud. A bedroom door stood half open — Tobias’s spare room, coats piled on the bed, a lamp already on. Callum pulled her inside and shut the door with his heel. The lock clicked under his thumb.

For a heartbeat they only looked at each other. Then Annika stepped into him, and he kissed her.

It wasn’t careful. Her mouth opened under his on the second pass, shy at the edges and hungry in the middle, and she made a soft sound against his tongue that went straight to his cock. He backed her toward the wall beside the dresser, one hand at her waist, the other sliding up her side until his palm met the outer curve of her breast through the thin red fabric. She gasped into his mouth and didn’t pull away. Her hands found his shoulders, then his chest, fingers curling in his shirt like she needed something to hold while the rest of her gave in.

“God,” he muttered against her lips. “You’ve been walking around like this all night.”

“I didn’t wear it for you,” she breathed, and then, smaller, “I kind of did. I saw you looking last time we all went out. I wanted to know if you’d do anything.”

He kissed her harder for that. His tongue slid against hers, wet and deep, and his hand closed over her breast, squeezing through the top, feeling the give of it, the weight. She arched into his palm. Her nipples were already tight; he could feel one peaked against the pad of his thumb even through the cloth. He dragged his mouth along her jaw, down the side of her throat, and she tilted her head to give him room, breathing fast, one hand sliding down his stomach until her fingertips brushed the hard line of his cock through his pants.

“Callum,” she whispered. Not a protest. A yes.

He hooked his fingers in the neckline and pulled.

The top came down in one rough tug, straps sliding off her shoulders, the stretchy fabric bunching under her breasts and shoving them up and out. No bra. Just Annika, bare from the ribs up, her tits heavy and pale and softer than he’d even imagined, swaying with the motion, nipples a deep pink and already drawn tight. He stared. His mouth went dry and then flooded. They were big enough to fill both hands and spill over, the undersides full and warm-looking, a faint sheen of sweat in the crease where they met.

“Fuck,” he said, and it came out wrecked. “Look at these.”

He cupped them both at once, lifting, weighing, thumbs dragging over the nipples until she whimpered and her knees softened. The flesh yielded and then pushed back, impossibly soft, hot against his palms. He bent and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, tongue flicking the stiff peak while his other hand kneaded the free breast, fingers sinking in. Annika’s head thudded lightly against the wall. Her hand found his belt, then the button of his pants, fumbling, eager in a way that didn’t match the shy girl who had blushed in the kitchen.

“I want—” she started, and couldn’t finish, because he switched breasts and sucked the other nipple deep, groaning against her skin at the taste of her. Salt and warmth and the faint sweetness of that perfume. He licked a slow circle, then sucked again, pulling the soft weight up so he could get more of her in his mouth. She stroked him through his pants the whole time, palm riding the length of his cock, squeezing when he bit gently at her nipple and soothed it with his tongue.

“Take it out,” he said against her breast. “I want your hand on it.”

She undid his belt with shaking fingers, popped the button, dragged the zipper down. His cock sprang into her palm, thick and already wet at the tip, and she wrapped her fingers around it like she’d been thinking about this as long as he had. Her stroke was unsure for half a second, then firmer, thumb smearing the precum down his shaft while he kept his mouth on her tits, sucking one nipple and then the other, both hands full of soft, heavy flesh. She looked down at what she was holding and made a small, hungry noise.

“You’re so hard,” she whispered.

“Because of these.” He squeezed both breasts together, pushed his face into the cleavage, licked the sweat from the valley between them, then came back up to kiss her filthy and open-mouthed while she pumped him. “On your knees, Annika. I want that shy mouth on my cock.”

She didn’t hesitate. She sank, the top still bunched under her bare tits, jeans creasing at the knees on the carpet, and looked up at him once — flushed, lips parted, those big breasts hanging heavy and bare between her arms — before she leaned in and took him into her mouth.

Heat. Wet. Her tongue flattened under the head and then curled, shy at first, licking the slit, tasting him, before she opened wider and slid down. Callum’s hand found the back of her head, not forcing, just resting there, feeling the soft hair as she bobbed. She sucked with a careful enthusiasm that undid him faster than skill would have: lips tight, cheeks hollowing, one hand still stroking what she couldn’t fit, the other braced on his thigh. Every time she pulled back she licked the underside, then took him deeper, a wet sound filling the quiet room under the muffled bass from downstairs. Her tits swayed with the motion. He couldn’t stop watching them, couldn’t stop watching his cock disappear between her lips.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Just like that. Fuck, your mouth. Look up at me while you suck it.”

She did. Eyes wide, watering a little at the corners, cheeks pink, mouth stretched around him. She hummed, and the vibration shot up his spine. He thrust gently, shallow, letting her set the pace, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of her tongue and the eager way she swallowed around it instead of pulling off. Spit shone on her chin. Her hand twisted on the downstroke. He was close already, the whole night of staring at her cleavage coiled tight in his gut, and the sight of her on her knees with her top yanked down and his cock in her mouth snapped the last of his control.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, voice breaking. “Annika — I’m coming, swallow it, take it—”

His hips jerked. The first thick pulse hit her tongue, hot and heavy, and he groaned loud enough that he should have cared who heard and didn’t. She stayed on him. Her throat worked. She swallowed, eyes fluttering, sucking through it as he came in hard spurts, flooding her mouth, cum leaking at the corner of her lips before she licked and took more. He held her head and emptied himself between her lips, thighs shaking, still spurting, watching her drink him down with that shy, ruined look on her face.

The door opened.

Katarina stood in the frame, one hand on the knob, the black dress and the pinned hair and the smile she must have walked upstairs wearing all gone in the same second. Her eyes went wide. They landed on Annika’s bare tits, on Callum’s cock buried in her best friend’s mouth, on the thick white spill still pumping over Annika’s tongue while she swallowed his load and didn’t stop.

Callum couldn’t stop either. Another rope of cum shot into Annika’s mouth as he stared at his girlfriend and finished between her best friend’s lips, groaning, hips twitching, painting Annika’s tongue while Katarina watched every filthy second of it.