When the last of my possessions were unpacked, Mack told the truth.
It took a month to end things with the old roommate, gather my things, and slowly migrate my life to Mack and Kyle’s place. Through all of that, I had helped her keep the secret and she continued to pretend that mine and Kyle’s was kept. I’d make an excuse for Kyle to help me load the entertainment console or a shelf-load of books and Mack would slip away to meet up with Ash or Liam or both and Kyle fucked me in my slowly emptying room.
On lazy mornings or the odd hours when only she and I would be home from work, Mack would tell me about her escapades with the other couple. One weekend, she’d gone with Ashley into the bathroom of the same movie theater in which she, Kyle, and I had once made secret love to eat her out with Liam outside, watching the previews.
“What if someone had recognized me?” she’d said, both thrilled and concerned.
More often, though, she just visited in their apartment to make out with Ashley to Liam’s growing discomfort.
Invariably, when McKenzie told me these stories, they would end with her on her back in the living room or the guest bed and my cock inside of her.
Within a week or two, I had noticed that our sex lives had grown into a new pattern. It was me and Mack or me and Kyle or Kyle and Mack, as though there were three relationships cohabitating in one house instead of three people in one relationship. For my part, I wasn’t really bothered. It only meant that Mack’s secret was one she had been keeping from Kyle, not one that was my business.
“And it’s not really cheating,” Mack said once in our post-coital musings. “Not on you. Not if you’re okay with it, right?”
And, I guessed, I was okay with it. Things with Liam were good—perfect, even—and things with Mack were good. The stories she brought home were just icing on a perverted cake for me.
It changed when the last of my things came through the front door and I was officially out of my lease. We’d planned a big date night in. Pizza, beer, sex. It had been a teasing sort of plan, worked up over the course of the days and weeks that had come up to it. The night had felt, as much as anything, like an anniversary.
“Why,” Kyle had said when the last box was emptied, “are we still wearing clothes?”
Mack had laughed and swayed against him, kissing first him then me. We’d already started on the beer, if not the pizza, and the thought of our lives finally coming together had gotten at least the two of them ready to get started.
I watched them from the living room armchair I had collapsed in, sipping my beer and wondering if this is what it had been like for them before I’d showed up.
I watched them kiss and slowly shed clothes until Mack’s tits were spilling out of her little, black bra and both our cocks were fully hard. Then, I slipped mine free and started to stroke.
Kyle knelt first, letting her pussy ride across his lips and chin, her eyes locked with mine. Then, he bent her over the coffee table and it was his turn to watch me stroke. Finally, I got up, cast away my shirt, and moved to kiss him.
Mack slid out from under him and I felt her lips on my cock, my pants sliding around my ankles. I traced the hard lines of Kyle’s body—and the soft ones. His tongue was in my mouth. He was all I really wanted.
“I want you both inside of me,” Mack whined, eyes big, one cock in either hand. “I want more.”