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“Mina, this is Sean.” Despite his broad grin and runner’s build, Mina couldn’t help but think that his beady eyes, flaming red hair and flat, stubby nose gave Sean the face of a ferret. Oblivious to her thoughts, Daniel was already gesturing to the remaining members of the group. “Eric,” he said, pointing towards a round-faced, pockmarked boy with listless brown hair, skin the colour of curdled milk, and dull green eyes, who stood at least a foot shorter than the rest. “Charlie,” who was a lean-figured male who appeared older than his years due to shoulder-length silver-blond hair, a stubble-roughened chin, and clever grey irises. “And this imposing brute is Victor.” Victor was the most striking of the lot. A broad, heavily muscled bruiser who dwarfed anyone in his shadow, who must have spent five hours a day in the gym and shaved his head twice a week to have his pate as smooth as marble.
Together they made an imposing, yet comical band of misfits. “They were in Mark’s and my homeroom in high school.” Daniel then waved his hand back towards her. “Gentleman,” he sullenly muttered the word like a cobra spitting venom. “This is Mark’s stepsister, Mina Carring.”
Forcing a friendly smile, Mina raised an open-palmed hand in greeting. “Hi.” None of them made any move to respond and instead, they just watched her, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Her smile faded and the hand fell back to her side. “I’m not staying long, I just dropped by to wish Mark a happy birthday.”
Thin, gaunt-faced Charlie sniggered and gestured back over his shoulder towards the stairs in the foyer. “You just missed him,” he said. “He went up to his room about fifteen minutes ago. Had a little accident with his beer.”
“Thanks.” Nodding, Mina twisted back to Daniel and gave him a small smile. “Well, it was good to see you again, Danny.” He looked like he was about to say something, but she interceded him by leaning up on tiptoes and kissed him softly on the cheek. Then, spinning on her heel, she darted between Victor and Eric, and walked briskly down the hall. She narrowly avoided barrelling into a startled boy carrying two cups of beer in each hand as she bolted up the sweeping stairs, taking the shallow steps three at a time.
What was all that about? she wondered, thinking back to the encounter in the kitchen and the change that had come over Daniel. A shudder crept down her spine. She couldn’t explain it, but upon seeing him standing on the porch, she’d taken an instant disliking to Sean.
It’s his eyes.
When he looked at her, they sat in their sockets like bergs floating on the ocean- cold and blue and only hinting at a danger lurking beneath the surface. And there was something else, a sort of madness that had nothing to do with the effects of the drugs. Did Daniel have some sort of history with Sean and those three other clowns? If so, then it was a sure thing that Mark had an equal share in it. So what were they doing here?
Despite the hive of activity and commotion below, the house’s second floor landing was utterly deserted. Turning left at the top of the stairs, the soft carpet underfoot and the deep thunder of the party below muffling her steps, she swept down the dim, narrow passage, passing the door of her old room on her left and two others on her right. Stopping outside Mark's door, the last on the left, she raised a hand to kno-
What was that?
The sound was small, barely more than a whisper, yet it struck a chord that had Mina suddenly still as stone. There it was again, the whisper of a voice, too faint to understand but recognisable all the same.
He can’t be.
Dropping her hand to her side, Mina sank to her knees and pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear over the ruckus going on downstairs.
A puckish smirk turned the corner of her full rosy lips.
He is!
Grasping the handle, she tried the lever and found the door unlocked. Mina said a silent prayer for someone to have finally fixed the old squeak and gave it a gentle nudge. Without a sound, the door slid inward and edging slightly forward, Mina peered through the crack.
Oh my!
The room was dark and dim. What light there was came off the small lamp on the bedside table, a soft golden luminance that enhanced the gloom and made the furniture appear surreal and shapeless amongst the shadows. Mark was half sitting, half lying upon his bed with his back propped against the woven metalwork headboard, naked and vigorously stroking his stiff length.
Mina licked her lips, her heartbeat rising to a thunderous storm within her breast as her greedy azure eyes devoured the voyeur’s feast laid before her, memorising every detail. University life had certainly seemed to agree with him. Where once he’d been boyishly spindly, he’d grown limber with long, well-defined legs and a firm abdomen just hinting to the rippling muscles beneath his milky skin. Her knees began to quake and tremble.
By the look of him he had just come from the shower. His hair was still damp and half plastered to his face while drops of moisture glistened across his torso, rolling down his skin and sparkling like diamonds when they caught the light. Entranced by the slow roll of liquid, her eyes were drawn to a single fat drop that slithered down the flat of his abdomen until it vanished within a nestle of dark curls. Her gaze settled on his hard length and she had to bite her lip to rein in her low, wanton moan.
Only the head remained permanently in view, a swollen, purple-grey bell shining with a thick sheen of pre-cum and pulsing so vividly it was a wonder it hadn’t already burst beneath his attention. Oblivious to his audience, Mark’s hand slid up and down the shaft, his motions swift, purposeful, and very well practised. His breathing was low and urgent, coming in short pants punctuated by the occasional low groan, like a great snorting beast preparing to charge. With each stroke, his fingers flexed around the length of his shaft, tightening and loosening, simulating the muscular convulsions of his fantasy lover, causing fresh droplets of glistening syrup to form on the tip.
He must be in a hurry, she realised breathlessly, probably hoping to finish and be back at the party before anyone realises he’s gone.
Drinking in the sight of his hand pumping up and down in that urgent rhythm, Mina’s mouth began to water. Accustomed as she was to the sight of male nakedness, there was something so erotic, so deliciously taboo about spying on him, watching him indulge in this most private of moments. At the apex of each stroke, a spike pulsed through her centre. She was suddenly very aware of the liquid heat that exploded through her centre and of the dampness seeping through the crotch of her jeans.
She needed to go, a part of her suddenly urged. Now was not the time for these games. It was too dangerous. There were too many people, and should one of them venture up the stairs and discover her… The consequences didn’t bear thinking about. Besides, they’d agreed these dalliances had to stop. They had both agreed. Yet the risk, that thrill of seeing how far they could push the boundaries and the ever-present danger of discovery that loomed over them, had always made their games so much more exciting.
I need to…
A haze was amassing, shrouding her thoughts, making it difficult to think as desire’s liquid heat ran molten through her veins, fanning the smouldering embers in her core until they erupted in a raging inferno.
I need to…
The thought danced in and out of her comprehension but was quickly little more than a distant memory lying just beyond her grasp.
I need…
Her plush inner walls responded to his motions, clenching around a phantom cock in time with his strokes while her clit swelled with arousal, its need for contact growing almost unbearable.
