The Wanking Dead update (Patreon)

Major tried the door, and as soon as he found it unlocked, he was pushing through, surging into the apartment. No Liv. He tried the various rooms, anxiety mounting into outright panic. The text had been terse, worrying, his attempts to call her or text her back meeting only silence. But he forced calm, forced thought. Quick-dialed her cell again. Heard her ringtone through a few walls, followed it around corners to an open door, opened it, saw Gilda inside.

She was in Liv’s bed, naked, the sheets around her hiding the specifics but not much else. In her hand, she muted Liv’s ringing phone.

“Not funny,” he said, teeth clenched.

“What’s not funny?” she asked, vocal fry running high. “I was just hitting you up—oh, did I accidentally use Liv’s phone instead of mine? Oopsie. That happens all the time with us roomies. We share everything.”

“Good. You can borrow some of her clothes, get dressed, and get out of here.”

“Or I could tell Liv all about your nocturnal activities. I wonder which she’d care about more: that you’ve been knocking off zombies like a Call of Duty mode or that you’ve had your cock so far down my throat that I could put teeth marks on your balls?”

Major laughed disbelievingly. “You’re blackmailing me for sex? Because that’s how hard up you are? You—you look like a model.”

“Awww, lover, you say the sweetest things.” Gilda looked at her bare wrist as if anyone still wore watches. “Better hurry. Won’t take long for Liv to get back from Peyton’s Place—wasn’t that a web serial or something?—and she probably won’t buy that you slipped and fell on your dick, with me to break your fall.”

“So you’re a sick bitch just doing this for kicks?”

Gilda nodded. “My roomie, I love her to death, but sometimes—you just really wanna fuck her boyfriend, you know?” She flipped the sheet off her body. “You can put it anywhere.”

Major knew he should resist. That was what you were supposed to do under these circumstances, in movies or books—not keep secrets, not cheat on your girlfriend, not kill people. But after all the build-up of getting back together with Liv, of seeing her beautiful body again, of waiting for Ravi’s tests and then the anticlimax of being told they couldn’t be together… he needed something. Not sex, but to stop fighting the current for one moment, to go with the flow and try to enjoy himself. One more thing he could make up to Liv later. Or one more thing to even the scales between them.

She was good, too. Major didn’t know if that made it better or worse. He didn’t compare her to Liv, at least. His memories of her had Midased their way into pure emotion, romance, nostalgia. Gilda was visceral pleasure, just flesh and skin and some kind of twisted thrill in making her come before he did, or surrendering to her efforts and letting her mocking laughter ring out. But it wasn’t like she was just anyone—just a warm body.

Through the nostalgia, he remembered that if Liv wasn’t some kind of seductress, she had a charmingly boundless enthusiasm. She’d bounced and wriggled all over the place, trying a little clumsily to get the right tempo, him struggling right beside her until they found it, or something like it, or had a good enough time that they didn’t care.

And the girls who weren’t Liv, or Gilda, they’d seemed not to care. Maybe he’d just had bad luck, gotten with women who were incompatible on some level with him, but they’d seemed to just lie there, making pleased sounds, letting him do all the work like it was a privilege that he could have sex with them.

But Gilda, Gilda had technique. It was almost like a dance with her. His moves were made, anticipated, responded to. She rolled her hips, twisted them, thrust them, counterpointing his motions, overriding them sometimes. He’d heard about those old ‘backward in high heels’ song and dance numbers that a good dancer didn’t look half as good without a good partner. With Gilda, he could believe it. Whatever else, she made him feel more virile, more skillful, made him take more pleasure in the simple satisfaction of being inside her, naked with her, kissing her.

Gilda was enjoying it too. Both of them were so filled with lust, they weren’t aware of anything else. Least of all the fact that the bedroom door was ajar a few inches. And peering through it was Liv Moore.

She’d come home fast after her chat with Peyton at Major’s place, still confused over who had killed her romance writer, what her feelings towards Peyton were, and if they were hers or those of a really kinky corpse. The last thing she’d expected to find back at her apartment, in her own bed, was Major. Well, okay, that wasn’t that unlikely. But with her, not with Gilda. And not having so much fun.

Christ, Gilda really did sound like a cartoon character getting electrocuted.

Major had his face buried in her crotch, arms around her thighs, struggling to hold on as Gilda kicked and thrashed wildly. She was clawing at his back in a delirium of lust, jerking her naked sex furiously into his licking mouth. “Oh, baby, oh, honey, lick it! Suck my clit, lick, suck—darling!”

Liv felt her heart hammering—such as it could—against her ribs. Was that what sex was like again? It seemed a lot more—obscene—than she remembered. More exciting, too. Gilda doused in sweat was sexy as ever, but naked? Fucking? She was delicious. And Major, hunched between her widely spread legs… had his cock always been that long, his balls always so hairy and big?

Confused and shocked, it actually occurred to Liv how odd it was that her foremost reaction was lewd excitement. Maybe it really had been too long, or maybe she’d unlocked her inner slut, gone on some Eat Pray Lesbian journey or something. But it seemed to her like maybe this was a healthy reaction. Being glad that the two of them were getting some, happy that at least someone had a Major boner inside them. And it wasn’t like Major hadn’t done well for himself. Gilda was hot as hell. And a natural redhead, to boot.

Liv felt herself tremble. It’d been a while since she’d even masturbated, the notion seeming depressing to her, like drinking nonalcoholic beer to make up for never being able to have red wine. But watching her roommate turn over onto her belly, knees folded under her, lush and creamy ass presented like she was posing for a pin-up—Liv may not have been able to pop the cork, but she could definitely smell the bouquet.

“Fuck me like a dog,” Gilda panted, nudging her asscheeks back toward Major’s cock as he knelt upright behind her. “Give it all to me, bitch, every inch! Ram it to the hilt! Don’t let me stop coming!”

Liv tried to keep from panting too heavily—it should’ve been easier, since she wasn’t much breathing—as she watched every movement with an avid frustration. Like it was a drug taking hold, she felt her hand flow down her body, following the leaden blood that seemed nearly molten inside her. She felt the strong, sure curvature of her belly give way to the silky softness underneath her belly button, the little wisps of hair as thin and fragile as spider’s silk, the sudden warmth hidden like a flower about to blossom…

She bit her lip to keep the outcry in her throat. It was so intense, dipping into that almost forgotten power, feeling what she could make herself feel. She built a rhythm, stroking her fingers to the tune of the throbbing at her core, her softly rounded hips swaying delicately to the music…

And all the while, Major clutched Gilda’s creamy ass in his hands, letting her reach between her spread thighs to seize his cock in her hands. She pulled it to herself with merely a stroking fingertip along the underside of his shaft, and he nudged into her quivering wetness. A long, dreamy sigh escaped Gilda’s throat.

“Ooooh, not bad. Fuck me slowly now, baby, give me time to get reacquainted with that big cock… mmmmmm, just the way I remember it. Only not… as… deep…”

In the doorway, Liv didn’t seem to be in control of the frantic rhythm her fingers possessed. She was only letting them rub inside her, outside her, the stroking feverish but the pleasure unhurried. She felt as if she’d been waiting for this—patiently awaiting every iota of pleasure she now felt. All the fantasies she’d ever had, all the old love affairs, were a pale echo compared to this intoxicating spectacle. As close as a zoo animal behind glass, and as far away.

Major was giving Gilda the depth she’d asked for, refreshing her memory as much as she required. Soft cries of pleasure filled Gilda’s mouth, barely contained by propriety, almost eclipsed by the sound of her body scrabbling over the bedspread in a frenzy of desire. Liv wasn’t sure if she was trying to meet Major’s powerful, steady thrusts or get away from them. Gilda clawed at the sheets beneath her. Whatever she wanted, she was getting his cock. Pistoning into her as savagely as Gilda could possibly ask for.

“I’m gonna come,” Major gasped, slamming himself into her audibly, his thrusts as loud as her hands rending the sheets. “Let’s see how hot that warm cunt gets—when I’ve come inside it.”

“It’ll be on fire!” Gilda dug her fingers into the mattress. “Just like it is now!”

Liv stabbed two fingers inside herself, her hips grinding down on the fuck she was giving herself. She thought of walking in on them, demanding to join them, her clothes left far behind. Just the thought of their eyes on her naked body pushed her inward, centered all her clenching body on her madly rutting fingers. She felt it on her fingertips, the tension and the release at the same time. She was touching her orgasm.

“Shoot it in me!” Gilda demanded, arching herself, her sex into sucking circles on his prick. Fucking the mattress as hard as she was fucking him. “All of it, in me, I want it all!”

Major crashed on top of her, his broad body engulfing hers, and he pressed into her and she pressed into the mattress, buried so deep that all Liv could see were her outstretched hands, her splayed feet, curled toes begging eloquently for relief. The bed finally had its say, bedsprings croaking as Major violently made his conquest. If he was coming, it was for more than a minute, splattering the aching walls of Gilda’s cunt with his release.

Liv imagined Gilda’s womanhood sucking needfully at his dick, draining every molten drop from him, as her own once had. Until it had to end, fingers pried free of the mattress, toes falling back into neat symmetry. Major rolled off Gilda with a long sigh, and Liv could see her again, perspiring, skin as red as her hair, lingering spasms of joy animating her like a disinterested puppeteer.

“Oh, sweetie, I needed that,” Gilda moaned. “And I don’t think I was the only one.”

She certainly wasn’t, Liv thought.

“Liv?” She whirled around. Peyton was there, her olive skin and dark hair coolly rounded away in the darkened hallway—a vampire come with a claim on Liv’s soul.

Vampire Peyton, Liv thought. Yummy.

“I didn’t like the way we left things,” Peyton said, hesitantly confessional. “I tried knocking, but no one seemed to be answering, and the door was open and, uh… I heard noises… what… were you doing?”

“Let me show you,” Liv said, beckoning her closer.