Wearing Out The Flooring

***

Mark rolled onto the bed and knelt above Claire. She reached out and caressed the head of his cock, and told him to wait. She leaned over and opened the drawer of her bed, getting a box of condoms that had been ribbed for her pleasure. She ripped the small package and took the slippery piece of rubber out, placing it on the head of his cock and rolling it down his shaft. She did it very well. "Now," she said. He took the base of his cock in his left hand and placed it against her hot pussy lips. His right hand grasped the headboard, which was as loose as he had anticipated. He lowered his body onto hers and his cock slid into her large, pulsing cunt. "Awooh," she said, a combination of moan and shriek. He lay against her for a minute, cushioning himself on her breasts. Then he began to pump his hips against hers, slowly at first then faster and faster, then he began to lengthen his stroke. The headboard, "Thud...thud...thud...thudthudthudthud", her cries: "Ohhh...Ohhhh...Ohhhh.... Ahhhhh."

He was silent, only his breathing growing more rapid with his exertions. As Claire approached her first orgasm she began to moan more and more, louder and louder, higher and higher. As the moment neared, she began to buck against him, ramming her hips up and down out of sequence with him as if desperate to have his cock as deep inside for as long as possible. As she came, she gasped and her motion ceased. But Mark was nowhere near and he desperately thrust in and out of her, technique lost as he jackhammered away. Her body began to respond to his frantic actions and her breathing became ragged as the pleasure in her centre grew again. Mark forced himself, conjuring every image that had ever aroused him. He pictured David's organ and imagined the way it had tasted in his mouth. By the grunting beneath him, Claire was near coming again, but this time Mark was near the edge himself. As she came, the muscles of her cunt clamped down on his cock, providing the last bit of stimulus he needed and he came with her. His orgasm was as silent as hers was cacophonous. She cried his name to the ceiling and her neighbours. "Good advertising," he thought but did not say.

He lay beside her empty and bored, slightly disgusted by the pale, desirous flesh that lay next to him. That night she took him in her mouth until he came, grudgingly, again, and then he took her from behind, her compromise when he had asked her for anal.

In the morning he got up before her and showered carefully, but fast, desperately cleaning the scent of Claire off himself. He dressed, and made to leave.

"Don't you want to stay?"

"I don't think it's a good idea. Best we just pretend this didn't happen."

Her hopeful smile faded from her face, slowly as if he had slapped her and she couldn't quite believe it. Which of course he had.

He ignored her in class from then on, and would walk out if they met in a club, which, after a while, was fine with her.

***

David woke up: Mark was sitting in front of him nude, watching him. David saw that Mark's dick was hard again, but pretended not to notice.

"Morning," he said, fake casual.

Mark reached for David's boxers, but David stopped him. "Look, Mark, I don't think it's a good idea. Best we just pretend this didn't happen."

Mark tried to say something but whatever device cued words from his brain to his mouth was malfunctioning, he formed soundless meaningless mixtures of vowels and consonants. He got up and ran out of the tent.

David lay back and sighed. "Fuck," he said quietly to himself. Later he talked to Mark with the stilted tones and phrases of embarrassment and said he had an essay due, they had better head back today, now.

The incident between David and Mark grew, a wedge in their friendship, which swiftly waned and ended.

***

Mark had never been so nervous. His palms were sweating and, had his shirt not been black, a casual observer would have noticed the dark pools spreading from his armpits like wounds. He dried his hands on the ass of his black jeans, breathed out, trying to expel the crazed butterflies in his stomach and stepped inside Club Personae. He walked to the bar, too jittery to notice the eyes that locked on him and traced the outline of his body. He sat on a barstool and waited as the barman moved over towards him. "What'll it be darling?"

"Whiskey. Large and neat."

The barman handed him a glass, looked him over and smiled. "You've just come out, haven't you?"

Mark paused, the glass halfway between the bar and his mouth. He was torn between annoyance at being so easily read and relief at anyone's support.

Later that night Mark met Jim. Jim was kind and understanding and gentle. He took Mark back to his flat.

It was incredible.