Author: Akiko

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I told her it was a mistake and went upstairs.

I lay in our bed with my hand over my eyes, my cock still throbbing, hating myself. Through the wall I heard her come up, close the door, and cry. It was small and wet and muffled. I put the pillow over my head and thought about knocking.

I didn’t. I’m not sure whether that was virtue or cowardice.

At seven I came down to find Jess in the hall in her coat with her suitcases packed. Her eyes were swollen.

“Marcie’s got a sofa,” she said brightly. “Hannah knows. I told her I’d be too much of a nightmare for a whole fortnight. She cried, the soppy cow.”

“Jess…”

“For the record.” She stepped close and kissed my cheek. Her mouth was soft and her hand pressed, for just a second, against the front of my jeans. “I’d have said yes. To everything. All night.”

Then she picked up her bags, plucked the red knickers off the radiator, stuffed them in her pocket and said, “Evidence,” and was gone, the door banging in the draught.

Hannah came home at eight and cuddled me, smelling of toast, and said it was such a shame, she’d loved having Jess around.

That night I lay in the big bed with my wife asleep beside me and the wall quiet at last. I came into my own hand at three, silent, in the dark, thinking of a dimple and a red thong, and I wasn’t sure which of us I was betraying.

Ending 5 of 16: Quiet Wall. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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I sat down and pulled her into my side. She curled against me with her head on my chest and her bare legs across my lap, and I stroked her hair and let her talk. About Callum. About her mum. About how she’d never be the quiet, sensible girl people wanted. I told her she was the best thing in any room. Somewhere in there she stopped crying and started giggling.

“Tom,” she whispered, “you’ve got a massive hard-on and it’s digging into my arse.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“Not really.”

She snorted, buried her face in my T-shirt and said, “This is the worst idea we’ve ever had.” Then she yawned. Within ten minutes she was snoring softly, one hand tucked in my waistband, her soft breast squashed against my arm. I never made it upstairs.

At eight the key turned in the front door.

Hannah stood in the hall with her coat on, taking in the scene: me, wide awake and rigid under a blanket, her best friend asleep on top of me in her knickers, a cold cup of tea on the floor.

Her eyebrows rose slowly.

“Pancakes?” she said.

Later, after Jess had gone off to shower, burning pink, Hannah dragged me upstairs, stripped, pushed me on the bed and sank down onto my cock without a word. She rode me hard, fingers digging into my chest, until we both came. “Mine,” she said, panting. “I’m only saying.”

“Always,” I said, and meant it.

Ending 4 of 16: Pancakes. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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I carried her into our bedroom and laid her on the bed, on Hannah’s side. I told myself it was just because it was nearer.

I put on the condom. Jess pulled me between her thighs and I slid into her, hot and tight, and the bed we’d bought together took her weight with a familiar groan. She wrapped her legs round me, gripped my arse and said, “Harder, Tom, please,” and I gave it to her. We fucked on top of the covers, the lamp off, Hannah’s pillow squashed under Jess’s curls and her perfume on the sheets, mixed with Jess’s coconut. She came with a long, shaking moan. I rolled her on top and she rode me, breasts swinging, one hand braced on the wall.

I was close, breathing her name, when the landing light came on.

I hadn’t heard the car. I hadn’t heard the key. The ward had sent a few staff home at four, short on patients, and Hannah stood in the doorway in her scrubs and coat with her bag still on her shoulder.

Nobody moved. Jess was still on top of me, still full of me, and it felt like the longest second of my life.

“Well,” Hannah said, quietly. “That’s a bit of a surprise.”

She looked at the bed. At her pillow. At Jess’s face, white as paper.

Then she put her bag down very gently, as if it might break, and went downstairs. A minute later I heard the front door close, and the car start.

Ending 3 of 16: Hannah’s Side. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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We stayed. She wasn’t wrong about the wonky leg, but I stopped noticing it.

I rolled the condom on, and she pulled me down and guided me into her. She was tight, hot and so wet I slid in with one slow push, and we both stopped, foreheads together, panting.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. “Oh, that’s so good.”

I fucked her slowly first, deep strokes, her heels in the small of my back, her breasts shaking. Then faster. She dug her nails into my shoulders and bit my collarbone to stay quiet. I flipped her over, pulled her hips up and took her from behind, one hand in her curls, the other flat against the wall, our wall, the one shared with my bedroom, and the headboard banged against it so hard I laughed into her hair.

“Shh,” she giggled, and pushed back harder.

She came with her face crushed in the pillow, shuddering round me. I followed, spilling into the rubber with a groan I swallowed in her neck.

Afterwards we lay there breathing, her head on my chest.

“Once,” she said.

“Once,” I agreed.

At ten to eight Hannah came home and kissed me in the hall, smelling of toast and hand gel. “Good night?” she asked.

“Quiet,” I said.

Upstairs, Jess’s door was closed, and the red knickers on the radiator were gone. Hannah smiled at me, and for a terrible second I couldn’t tell what her smile meant.

Ending 2 of 16: Just Once. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.

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Hannah swapped her shift. At eight that evening we sat Jess down on the sofa with a bottle of wine, and Hannah said it all in her calm ward-sister voice: that I fancied her, that she did too, that we’d both like her in our bed tonight, but only if she wanted it, and she could say no without it changing a thing.

Jess went scarlet, then white, then looked from one of us to the other. “Is this a wind-up?”

“No,” said Hannah, and kissed her.

It was slow and open-mouthed. Jess whimpered. When they broke apart she was gasping. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, God, yes. Please. Both of you.”

Upstairs, Hannah undressed her like unwrapping something precious and laid her across our bed. I watched my wife part her best friend’s thighs and lick her, long and slow, while Jess clawed the sheets and cried out. “Tom,” Hannah said, over her shoulder, “come here and fuck me.”

I took her from behind, her face in Jess’s soft belly, Jess’s fingers tangled in her bob. Then Jess pulled me out and onto my back and rode me, big breasts bouncing, grinding down, while Hannah sat on her face and kissed me upside down. I felt Jess come around my cock, clenching hard, shouting Hannah’s name.

We swapped and swapped again. Hannah on top, Jess licking where we joined. Me spilling over both their tits, Hannah kissing it off her.

Afterwards we lay in a sticky, giggling pile.

“Same time tomorrow?” said Jess.

“Every night of the fortnight,” said Hannah. “And then we’ll talk about the rest of the year.”

Ending 1 of 16: All Three. You found the full happy ending.

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“Wait,” I said. “Before I agree to anything, I’d like to review the terms.”

Elena raised one eyebrow. She did it slowly, with enormous pleasure. “Review the terms.”

“It was a bet. Contracts have clauses. I’d like some say in how this goes.”

“Mark.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You lost. You’re negotiating from your boxers. Well, from your jeans, but we’ll fix that.” Her mouth twitched. “Go on, then. What do you want?”

“A rematch,” I said. “Double or nothing. One question. If I win, the bet’s off. Or at least reversed.”

“And if you lose?”

“Then I’ve lost twice.”

She laughed, properly, head back, and I felt that familiar flutter of pride at having made her do it. Then she went quiet and looked at me with her head tilted, the way she looks at a spreadsheet that’s about to surprise her.

“You’re nervous,” she said. “That’s why you’re talking. That’s fine. It’s allowed. But you should know every bit you bargain away goes on the list for later, with interest.”

“There’s a list?”

“There’s always a list.” She picked up her phone and began typing. “Two options, because I’m kind. One, I give you your rematch, one question, my choice of category. Two, you ask me what else is on the list, and I tell you. Honestly.”

Her phone buzzed with a reply. She read it, and her smile did something complicated and delighted.

“Either way,” she said, “I should mention that was Zoe. She knows all about the bet.”

→ I take the rematch and demand a fair question

→ I ask what Zoe knows, and what else is on the list

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I stripped. Jumper, jeans, socks, everything but my boxers, which were already doing a poor job of hiding how I felt about this. Then I knelt on the rug at her feet and said, “I’m all yours, Elena.”

“Good boy.” She said it softly, like she was testing the words, and I felt them land low in my stomach.

She stood, walked a slow circle round me, and trailed one finger across my shoulders. She was in her grey leggings and my old university hoody, dark hair loose, bare feet, and somehow she’d never looked taller.

“Hands behind your back. Eyes down unless I say otherwise.” Her fingers hooked into my waistband. “Look at you. Hard already, and I haven’t even started.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be useful.” She slid the boxers down, and my cock sprang out, flushed and ridiculous in the lamplight. She wrapped her hand round it, one slow stroke, then let go. I whimpered. Actually whimpered.

“Bedroom,” she said. “Crawl.”

I crawled down the hallway behind her, watching her hips sway. On the bed sat the black holdall she keeps at the back of the wardrobe, the one I’d never been allowed to ask about. The zip was open. I could see leather cuffs. A bottle of lube. And something long, purple and silicone, coiled in its harness.

Elena sat on the edge of the mattress and crooked a finger at me.

“Choose,” she said. “Cuffs first, or do you want to ask me about the rest of the bag?”

→ I hold out my wrists for the cuffs

→ I ask about the strap-on in the bag

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“Zoe?” I said. “Zoe, your best friend Zoe? The Zoe who does my taxes?”

“She’s a freelance accountant, she doesn’t do your taxes. She did look at your receipts once.” Elena showed me the screen. A string of messages, a lot of exclamation marks, and the final one: On my way. Bringing prosecco. Tell him to be good.

“She knows about the bet?”

“She knows everything. She’s twenty-eight, she’s very discreet, and she’s been curious about you since the barbecue.” Elena put the phone down. “Don’t look so scared. You’ve got a safeword, and so does she, and so do I. Nobody does anything you haven’t said yes to. But you asked what’s on the list, so here it is. I want you tied up. I want you teased. I want you on your knees. And I’d quite like to watch somebody else enjoy it too.”

My brain, and several other organs, went entirely blank.

“She’s ten minutes away,” Elena said. “This is the part where you decide. If you say yes, I’ll tell her to come up, and she’ll be as gentle or as filthy as you like. If you say no, I’ll text her now, and she’ll go home with her prosecco, and I won’t think any less of you. Not one bit.”

She said it so simply that I knew it was true. The doorbell was ten minutes away, and so was a very different version of my night.

→ I tell her yes, Zoe can come up

→ I tell her no, not tonight

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“Rematch,” I said. “One question. Fair category.”

“Fair,” Elena agreed, to my surprise, and picked up the card box. “Sport. Since you love it so much.”

I do not love sport. I watch it, mostly for the snacks. She shuffled a card, read it, and her eyes flicked up at me with something close to mischief. “Which country hosted the first modern Olympic Games in 1896?”

My mind went blank. I could feel her watching me, her foot nudging my thigh.

“Greece,” I said. “Athens. The Olympics were in Athens.”

For a long, glorious moment, nothing. Then Elena put the card down, folded her arms and glared at me with enormous dignity.

“Fine,” she said. “That’s right.”

I punched the air. I actually did.

“Don’t get cocky. Here’s what happens. I’m a woman of my word, and you’ve won the tie-break. But you’ve only won ten minutes.” She picked up her phone and set a timer, turning the screen so I could see it. “Ten minutes of me doing what you say. After that, the bet resumes, with interest. And I told Zoe not tonight, so you’re welcome.”

“Ten minutes,” I said. My pulse was going. “Anything I want?”

“Within the limits.” She leaned back against the sofa cushions and spread her arms along the top, like a queen daring me. “Clock’s running.”

→ I order her to the bedroom and take charge

→ I bank the ten minutes for later