Welcome back.
Did you ever think you'd read a story based on junk mail? Much less five chapters of the stuff? Yet here you are.
Now — Everyone say it together! — Donate to Nifty! Keep the free boners coming!.
Comments are incredibly welcome, and I intend to answer everyone.
By Saturday morning Trevor was starting to relax a little. He had successfully avoided all three boys since the day of his freakout, though he wasn't exactly proud of the cowardly way he did it.
The past three days he had worked in his cramped little cubicle at the office with the bad fluorescent lighting just so he wouldn't be home when the boys inevitably came to his screen porch. It wasn't any sort of solution to his problem — it wasn't like they were just going to go away — but at least it gave him time to calm down and think.
He was poking through his closet deciding what to wear to Elaine's dinner party that evening when the doorbell rang. Anxiety rose as he came out of the bedroom but was replaced by mere curiosity when he realized that none of the boys would use the doorbell, but then fear slammed his chest like Thor's hammer.
There in his driveway was a black-and-white police cruiser!
"Oh my God oh my God oh my God!"
Trevor began to hyperventilate. What the hell had happened? Did Brandon spill his guts to his Mom? Did Gray get caught with one of his many partners? Then he thought, Duko! The kid was a prostitute! He must have gotten busted and given up his customers to get out of trouble.
The doorbell rang again and Trevor's heart pounded the hardest it ever had. He thought of sneaking out via the screen porch but he knew that would be pointless. Where would he run? How would he live? He didn't know how to survive on the lam. They'd catch him for sure!
Improbably his mind fixated on something he'd read in his Intro to Psych class his freshman year at University: Elizabeth Kubler Ross's Five Stages of Grief.
1. Denial
This simply couldn't be happening. There had to be some sort of mistake. Sure, he had technically broken the law — a total of eight times with three different children — but the boys had wanted it! Surely they wouldn't put him in jail for something the kids wanted.
2. Anger
Fucking Duko! The little whore had given him up! After all the fun and money and great feelings Trevor had given him the little bastard had sold him out! What a little cunt!
3. Bargaining
If God got him out of this he'd go to church every Sunday, and he'd turn the other cheek and forgive Duko.
The little cunt.
4. Depression
He was fucked and it was is own fault. His own foolhardy decisions had come around to bite him in the ass and now his life was over. He wished he could just die right there on the living room floor.
5. Acceptance
There was nothing left to do but face the consequences.
It was the fastest run ever through the five stages. Resignedly he opened the door.
Standing on his porch was a rumpled police detective straight out of Central Casting, a nice-enough-looking man in his forties wearing a brown sport coat in dire need of pressing, a pale blue shirt with the collar unbuttoned and a dark blue tie with red diagonal stripes, tied but hanging loose. Behind him stood two clean-cut young officers in crisp blue uniforms. Oddly, the detective warmly smiled as he showed Trevor his badge.
"Hello Mr. Murphy," he said in a friendly tone. "I'm Gene Pankow with the Oak Hill Police and these are officers Ruiz and West. We're very sorry to just show up this way but we couldn't reach you at the cell number your landlord gave us. I kept getting 'The call cannot be completed as dialed,' so I guess you need to correct that number for him."
Trevor stood dumbly, wondering if getting arrested for child molesting was always such a genial affair.
"Uh, sure," Trevor stammered, "I'll take care of that."
"May we come in?" Pankow asked, still friendly as hell. "Is this a good time?"
"Good time for what?" Trevor managed to ask while trying hard not to piss his pants.
"Maybe we should discuss it inside," the detective said. Then softly he added, "We have a warrant and the owner's permission so at some point we're coming inside, but it doesn't have to be today if you're busy. Like I said, I tried to call but I couldn't reach you so I finally decided to just stop by."
A warrant. They never served an arrest warrant so casually on Cops.
Trevor stepped back and let them in. If they were going to put him in handcuffs he'd just as soon the neighbors not watch it happen.
"Why don't we have a seat at the kitchen table?" Pankow suggested with another disarming smile.
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Trevor stammered again, his chest growing tighter by the second. Why were they playing with him that way? Was that how cops got their jollies?
"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked. It was a reflex after all the years his Mom drummed politeness into his head. "A Coke? I can make a pot of coffee if you like."
"Well, let me explain things, and then if we're staying you might want to make coffee," the detective said. He pulled a folded document out of his breast pocket and laid it out on the table before Trevor.
"This is a warrant to search the premises," he said. "You may be aware of the previous renter, known to people here as Phillip Anderson."
"I've heard of him," Trevor said, his heart pounding, "but I never actually met him."
"No, of course not," Pankow said. "He moved out a couple of weeks before you moved in and he crossed into Mexico two days later using a passport in the name Phillip Anderson. That turns out to be an identity stolen from an elderly gentleman in a nursing home in Columbus, Ohio. Interpol has now identified the suspect as Albert Glassman, a German citizen wanted in seven countries for identity theft and online financial fraud."
"Jesus!" Trevor said. "But if you know he's in Mexico why are you here?"
"He was in Mexico a month ago but probably not anymore, and probably no longer using the name Phillip Anderson. The FBI asked us to search this place for anything that might tell us where he's headed, but I frankly don't expect to find anything. He seems too smart to leave clues behind. With your permission I'd like to get this search over with today and then we can be out of your hair."
"Um, yeah, sure," Trevor replied, but then stopped short. "Do I need to talk to a lawyer first? I mean, I don't know how this stuff works except what I see on TV."
Pankow laughed. "We're only looking for things relevant to finding Glassman, I promise. In fact…"
He indicated a certain paragraph on the paper.
"…right here the warrant specifies exactly that. Even if you had something you wouldn't want us to find, like drugs or something, it wouldn't be admissible because it's outside the scope of the warrant. Still, I get it. Nobody wants to be on the cops' radar. Maybe you'd rather tell us you're busy today and to come back on Monday. You're within your rights to do that."
"No, it's OK," Trevor said and tried to smile. "I don't have anything like that. I just always heard that you should never volunteer anything."
"We can come back," Pankow offered again.
"No, let's get it over with," Trevor said. "How long will it take?"
"It's a small house. I'm gonna guess about an hour."
"OK, then I'll put on some coffee."
Trevor puttered around making coffee while Pankow and the officers put on nitrile gloves and began their systematic search. He was a little creeped out by strangers handling his things but he didn't have anything to hide so he swallowed his unease.
He was cautiously encouraged because it didn't seem like they were here about the boys, but he wouldn't entirely relax until they were gone.
Pankow was in the bedroom with one of the officers so Trevor came to the doorway.
"The coffee's ready if anybody wants a cup," he said.
Pankow turned to him and said, "Please stay in the kitchen until we're finished. It's the protocol, you understand."
"Oh, yeah, right," he muttered, then blushed in embarrassment when Officer Ruiz opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out Trevor's lube and rag, crusty with a couple of days worth of cum. The cop smirked knowingly and tossed them onto the bed.
Apparently even cops jerk off.
"That nightstand wasn't here when Phillip Anderson lived here," Trevor offered, though the humiliating horse was already out of the barn. "I brought it with me."
"We have to search it anyway," Pankow said. "That's how search warrants work. Now please, wait in the kitchen."
Trevor sat again at the kitchen table with his coffee. He guessed in their position they couldn't just take his word for it. They had to be able to tell the FBI that they searched the entire place and found nothing.
"Detective," Officer West called from the living room. "Take a look at this."
Trevor's heart leapt into his throat and he spun in his chair to see. Pankow came out of the bedroom and conferred with West, their backs to him. They spoke in low tones that Trevor couldn't hear and in a minute Pankow came into the kitchen holding a small piece of cloth in his gloved hand.
"Mr. Murphy," he began, "did you bring that couch with you as well?"
Trevor could barely muster the breath to answer.
"Um, no. I only brought the bedroom furniture."
"So you've never seen these before?" the detective asked, holding up a small pair of underwear. Trevor almost shit when he saw the Batman logo across the pouch.
Brandon's!
"Do you have a son, or a nephew maybe, who might have spent the night on that couch and left a pair of briefs…" He examined the tag. "…boys size eight, in between the cushions?"
He couldn't speak, wracking his brain to think of a time he might have had Brandon's underwear off on that couch. Too many windows he remembered the boy quoting Phil from their first encounter. Trevor was absolutely sure that he and Brandon had never fooled around in the living room.
"No," he replied truthfully. "I have no idea how they got there."
He thought the detective surely must be thinking, That's what they all say, but instead…
"These are pretty old and dusty," Pankow said, with no suspicion at all in his voice. "They've probably been here for months or even years. It does sort of fit the Glassman case, though."
"How do you mean?" Trevor asked.
"Glassman's business was selling stolen identities on the dark web. Two days ago the Feds cracked the encryption on his cloud storage account — which is how they knew he was using the name Phillip Anderson, which they then tracked here and ultimately Mexico.
"But they also found a big stash of child pornography, pretty nasty stuff as I understand it, and all featuring young boys. There's no evidence he was selling it though and this seems to confirm that it was for his own, um, personal consumption."
"Holy shit," Trevor mumbled.
"Holy shit is right," Pankow said. "Now, this doesn't prove he was molesting kids here in this house. They could be a trophy from an earlier crime, or they could have been in that couch long before Glassman ever moved here. Hell, he might have bought the damn things on Amazon for all we know. It might seem suspicious but without supporting evidence a first-year law student could get it laughed out of court."
Trevor grimaced and said nothing. Pankow smiled his friendly smile and put a reassuring hand on Trevor's shoulder.
"Don't let it skeeve you out," he said. "You might be tempted to think about what might have happened here every time you sit on that couch, but take it from me, you've got to let it go. Bad shit happens in this world and if you let it get to you you'll end up with an ulcer."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Trevor said. "What happens next?"
"I'll put 'em into an evidence bag for the Feds and that will probably be the end of it. By itself a pair of kid's underpants is not evidence of a crime, so unless someone reports something specific there's nothing we can do. Glassman is wanted for financial crimes and eventually they'll get him for those. As for the other stuff, we just have to put our disgust aside and get on with life."
Trevor nodded and said, "Thanks, Detective. I feel better."
"Good. Now if you would please move into the living room we'll search the kitchen and the screen porch and be done with this pointless exercise."
Trevor took a second shot of Tequila and tried to calm himself. The cops had only been gone for five minutes and he was still shaking with fear. His rational mind told him that they were focused on Anderson — Glassman? — whatever — and did not suspect him of anything. Hell, they hadn't even found the secret entrance on the porch. Still it had been a harrowing experience that he hoped to never have again.
A knock at the sliding glass door practically gave him a heart attack.
Duko was on the porch, a shit-eating grin on his face. Trevor hurried over and rushed him inside, closing the slider against prying ears.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded in hushed urgency. "Get out of here, now!"
"Relax, they're gone," Duko said with his usual annoying cockiness. "You're not in jail so I guess they were looking for Phil. I always knew there was something shady about that guy."
"I'm not in jail yet! And I don't want to be, so beat it!"
"Oh, don't be such a pussy. The cops ain't nothin'. I've been dodging 'em for years."
"You're just a kid," Trevor said. "They wouldn't put you in prison if you got caught."
Duko looked at him like he was stupid.
"You never heard of juvie?" he challenged. "It ain't sleep-away camp you know."
"You could just cry your little eyes out and say the grownups made you do it," Trevor countered. "If you gave them your customers to prosecute they'd hand you a lollipop and send you home."
"Maybe," Duko said with uncharacteristic seriousness. "You know what though? For guys like you it's worth the risk."
Trevor's jaw dropped. "What do you mean, guys like me?"
"The age thing," the boy said. "You gotta have boys. It's in your blood, and I like that about you. That part's almost as good as the money."
Trevor was too gobsmacked to answer.
"The way you went for me that first time— wow!" Duko said with eyes full of excitement. "And the second time too. I've been with a lot of older guys and I've never seen anyone as turned on as you!"
"No, no," Trevor insisted. "I like adults. Just last week I spent the night with two men and we fucked our brains out!"
"Yeah, and I do stuff with kids too," Duko said. "It's fun, but it doesn't buy video games. This is what I'm looking for!" With that he thrust his hand into Trevor's crotch and squeezed.
"Hey!" Trevor cried, dancing backward out of reach. He was horrified while Duko grinned.
"Face reality, Dude," the boy said. "You've got a semi already!"
Duko stepped close and took Trevor's hand, which the man couldn't bring himself to resist, and pulled it onto the steel-hard lump in his tight shorts.
"Now tell me you don't want this," the boy said, looking up into Trevor's eyes with a sexy twinkle.
Trevor was barely breathing but fully aware of his own cock pumping full of blood. Duko's hand enfolded it again and in two seconds they were aggressively fondling each other.
Duko whispered, "The cops are gone and they're not coming back. Now take me to bed like we both know you want to."
Tequila and lust ganged up on him and Trevor was no match. He hurried the boy into the bedroom and they stripped as fast as they could. He took Duko under the arms and launched them both onto the bed, rolling into position on top and pinning the boy's hands over his head. He kissed him deeply, his tongue searching and probing.
"Dude! Dude!" Duko urgently interrupted the first chance he got. "Get the money before we get too heated up."
Trevor looked incredulous.
"Seriously?" he asked.
"We had a deal, right? And you weren't home when I came on the regular Thursday."
"Shit!" Trevor cried. "I'll give it to you after, I promise."
"I don't know Dude," the boy said, humping his stiff young cock up into Trevor's belly. "I don't want to start making exceptions."
With a disgusted sigh Trevor climbed off and grabbed his wallet from the dresser.
"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that Duko?"
The boy giggled as he took the twenty. "I've heard that before, yeah."
While he was up Trevor grabbed the lube and condoms out of the drawer.
"I'm so ready for you, Trevor," Duko said in his lowest, sexiest register. "Fuck me deep and slow, OK? Kiss me hard and go a long time until you fill up that rubber with your big huge load!"
Trevor eagerly climbed on top again. Duko's long slim legs wrapped around his back and his equally skinny arms around Trevor's neck pulled him down into a fierce kiss. It seemed like genuine passion to Trevor but then he had no idea with this kid. It seemed like he could do or say just about anything at any time.
For a few minutes the only sound was their lips smacking and occasional moans of pleasure and longing. Trevor humped his cock against the smooth skin of the boy's belly, bringing himself to intense readiness. When he couldn't wait any longer he raised up to his knees and grabbed a condom, tearing it open and rolling it onto his cock.
"Oh, yeah!" Duko cried in glee. "Fuck me good, Dude! Deep and slow."
Trevor coated his rubberized flesh with a big glob of lube and applied the excess to Duko's wide-open hole. He centered himself at the entrance and carefully pushed his way in.
Duko gasped but grinned right through it. A long low moan accompanied Trevor's slow, slow push, taking more than a minute to fully impale the boy's searing-hot depths.
"Hold it in deep, Dude," Duko said with sparkling eyes. "Keep it all the way in and kiss me hard!"
Trevor was way more than happy to oblige. He kissed the boy deeply and passionately and if the emotion he returned was fake Duko deserved an Oscar.
He briefly pictured the famous golden statue with a boner.
He felt the boy's hot channel fiercely squeeze him, then release, then do it again. It was almost as good as deep fucking.
Almost.
After several minutes of this intense intimacy Duko broke the kiss and gasped, "Fuck me now, Trevor. Nice and slow."
Trevor began to slide his hardness back and forth in tiny, slow strokes. Duko sighed and threw his head back against the mattress.
"Oh my God, Dude," he muttered. "That's unbelievable."
It took all of Trevor's control not to speed up his thrusts. His body wanted to get there but his mind was firmly with the program. Delayed gratification was simply awesome!
He fucked and fucked, deeply and firmly but excruciatingly slowly. Minutes passed as they ground their bodies together and moaned around each other's tongues. Trevor's brow slicked with sweat as he worked but it was very, very worth it.
Duko's body stiffened and a groan escaped him.
"OK, Dude," he gasped. "Let's go now. Get me there, baby. I need to cum!"
Trevor increased the pace, lengthening his strokes until he was steadily slamming his cock deep into Duko's body. Their slapping skin joined their gasps and moans and the smacking of their lips until the room was filled with the sounds of sex. Trevor had to back off of the kiss because he needed more oxygen and Duko took the opportunity to cry out in ecstasy.
"Yes, Trevor yes! Fuck me!"
He slammed as hard as he could and in a matter of seconds Trevor felt the heat blooming in his guts. His muscles tightened and the pressure grew until he knew it would happen any second. Duko squeezed him with all his strength and his convulsions began as well, signaling Trevor to let himself go.
"God!" he cried as his cum exploded into the condom. Duko squeezed as well and exactly two tiny spurts of immature juice shot onto his smooth, flat belly. They both went slack for about two seconds and then simultaneously clenched with aftershocks. This happened twice more before they began to settle, and finally sated, rolled apart to lie exhausted but content.
"Whew!" the boy exhaled. "God damn you can fuck, Dude!"
Trevor smiled and pulled him closer. They snacked on one another's lips and Trevor felt great affection for the boy. Yeah, it was weird but he guessed the prostitution cover was an important part of Duko's self-delusion, though it sure seemed like he didn't need to give himself "permission" to be gay.
In fact he seemed to revel in it.
"I wish we didn't have to use one of those," the boy said, watching Trevor carefully remove the bulging condom.
Trevor stared back in surprise.
"Wouldn't it be fun to shoot that big load right up me with nothin' in the way?" Duko grinned. "How sexy would it be to see your hot cum drippin' out of my hole? Guys have offered me big bucks for that and I always turned 'em down, but I'd give it to you for no extra charge."
"Why would you do that?" Trevor asked in shock.
"I trust you, Dude," the boy said, strangely serious again. "If you said you were clean I'd believe you. You're not the kind of guy who'd let somebody get sick and not even give a shit like Phil and those other guys."
Duko chuckled at Trevor, but fondly.
"You're a romantic sap," he said, "and you actually care about me."
Trevor could only stare at the earnest, naked boy, who right that second seemed about nine years old.
"But let's not get all serious now, Dude," Duko said, snapping back into happy-go-lucky mode. "We've still got, like, twenty minutes left and I want one of your good blowjobs!"
Trevor straightened himself in the mirrored door of the elevator as he rode up to Elaine and Bev's condo. It was a very nice building just outside the Central Business District of the city, walkable to the tiny one-block "Girls Town" known for its two lesbian bars, one nightclub and one gym.
Well, it was known to gay people anyway.
He looked again at the bottle and hoped his $37.50 had gotten him a decent Pinot Noir. He was a beer man himself but the guy at the store had assured him it was a good choice. Or maybe it tasted like piss and the guy merely foisted it off on a rube who didn't know better.
He hadn't been given any guidance on how to dress so he had gone middle-of-the-road between casual and nice. He wore his newest and best-fitting jeans and a tasteful, slim-tailored button-down shirt in cream with light gray pinstripes, which was designed to be worn un-tucked. He had to admit he looked pretty good.
"Wow," he said to himself when he got to the end of the hall and realized that they lived in a northwest corner unit, promising a fabulous view of the city on one side and lovely green hillsides on the other. They weren't affording this on a Postal Carrier's pay, so Bev must do all right.
He knocked and smoothed back his hair as he waited, but then couldn't suppress a small gasp when the couple answered the door together.
"Now there's a first reaction I could have done without," Elaine said, trying to sound insulted but obviously teasing. "Which surprised you more? That a big-booty sista like me is with a white girl or that she's a stone fox?"
"Both of those things," Trevor rejoined with a grin, teasing right back. "Are you a trust-fund baby who delivers mail as a hobby? 'Cause that's the only explanation I can think of."
"Nah, Bev's the one with the trust fund," Elaine said, and Trevor was astonished to see in her eyes that she wasn't kidding.
"It's not a trust fund," Bev corrected with an affectionate rebuke in her voice for Elaine, "just some investments my Dad set up for me when I was a kid. Now come on in so we don't entertain the neighbors too much."
Bev led the way to the open-concept kitchen and living room. The view off the wraparound balcony was even better than Trevor had imagined.
"I can take that," she said, reaching for the wine. "A nice California Pinot," she said appreciatively, then with a teasing look to Elaine added, "and you said he'd bring Budweiser."
Elaine's eyes went wide. "I did not!"
Bev laughed and put an affectionate hand on Elain's arm. "Just getting you back for that trust-fund crack," she said. Then to Trevor, "Shall we start again from the top?" She offered a manicured hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Trevor. I'm Elaine's wife, Beverly Collines."
Trevor shook hands with a smile, then his eyes opened as wide as Elaine's and he broke into a grin.
"Hold on," he said. "I took two semesters of French in Junior High, and if I remember correctly collines means hills."
Elaine turned an astonished look to her wife. "You're shitting me!" she exclaimed. "Your name is Beverly Hills?"
Trevor cracked up and Bev sighed in disgust.
"And this is why I don't tell people," she said. "Our real name is Collines and we're not even French, but when my folks found out what it meant they thought it would be hysterical to name a daughter Beverly. Just my luck to be the first-born girl. My entire childhood they told that same lame joke to everyone. I'd bring home a boyfriend and they'd tell him, and later on I brought home girlfriends and they'd tell them. I finally moved halfway across the country mostly to get away from it! And now thanks to you Trevor, here it is again."
Trevor raised both palms toward her and said, "Hey, don't blame me. I'm just a guy who knows a little French."
Bev laughed in good nature and gestured Trevor into the living room. "Well, this Pinot will help me forgive you," she said. Then to Elaine, "Hand me the opener, will you babe?"
They settled into the comfortable furniture and over the entire bottle of wine got to know each other. The ladies made it remarkably easy, as did the Pinot, which Trevor found surprisingly tasty.
He found it helped that they were lesbians, as there was zero sexual tension and, being queer themselves, they viscerally understood the whole "social outcast" thing.
An hour later he had heard all about how they met and fell in love and he had told them his entire history with Marcus, from six-year-olds sucking little wieners to the recent breakup.
"Man, that's brutal," Bev said. "I had a girlfriend go straight on me once but we weren't nearly as tight as you guys."
"I didn't even tell you the worst part," Trevor said. "His knocked-up fiancé called me — on his phone so I'd answer — to tell me how miserable Marcus was without me, and how she loved him so much she was willing — get this — to allow him to date me on the side and have overnights at my place! Can you believe that? She actually thought I would settle to be the little non-threatening side-piece that would keep him from running wild when his dick gets hard for other dicks. I told her, Not me! You do not get me that cheap, Miss Suzanne Fucking Marx!"
Bev looked like she'd been hit in the forehead with a brick. Elaine and Trevor abruptly stopped laughing and stared at her.
"What's the matter, Honey?" Elaine asked.
"Marcus' baby mama is Suzanne Marx?"
"Yeah," Trevor said. "I used to think she was sweet until she pulled this shit."
"What is it, Babe?" Elaine asked in concern.
"Do you have a picture of her by any chance?" Bev asked.
"Probably," he replied. "The three of us used to hang out sometimes before the whole 'stealing my boyfriend' thing."
Trevor scrolled backward through his Gallery until he spotted one.
"This was on the Fourth of July," Trevor said, handing Bev his phone with a selfie he had taken with Marcus on one side and Suzanne on the other, holding sparklers and grinning widely. "Happier days," he sadly added.
"Holy Mother of Fuck," Bev exclaimed. "It is her! I dated this bitch for three months when I first moved to town!"
"What!" Trevor cried. "She's the one who went straight on you?"
"No," Bev said a bit calmer. "That was someone else. Suzanne left me for another girl. I would have sworn she was full-on lesbo! I mean, she totally walked the walk. Hell, she was queerer than me!"
"Ain't nobody queerer than you, Baby," Elaine teasingly said. Trevor looked at her sideways.
"Really? Cutesy jokes right now?"
"Well what difference does it make, Trevor?" Elaine challenged. "So Suzanne went straight on that other girl she dated after Bev, or the one after that. Either way she got herself knocked up and talked Marcus into going straight with her. It's shitty, but it's just a coincidence that she used to date Bev."
"What if it isn't?" Bev broke in. "Not about me but about going straight. This was two years ago when I first came to town, and even then she was always talking about getting married and having babies. That's a big part of why we broke up. We'd only been dating a few months and there she was already talking marriage and sperm donors and house hunting and all of it. It was too much for me and we had a big fight and then she left me."
Elaine looked confused. "You and I have talked about kids."
"Someday, Elaine," Bev said. "Not in the first three months. And we're married! Maybe you remember. A big cake? White dresses?"
Elaine smiled. "Oh, you did look good in that dress."
"Back at you, Baby," Bev said in a sultry voice and leaned in to crush a hot kiss onto Elaine's lips.
"Can we maybe get back to Suzanne now?" Trevor said. "What were you getting at, Bev?"
"Well, it seemed pretty clear to me at the time that Suzanne was a lot more interested in having kids than in having a partner. What if she worked her way through two or three lesbian candidates and couldn't get anybody to go along, so she decided to see if she could get a guy instead?"
"So you think she's actually bi?"
"Not necessarily," Bev said. "What if — and I'm just talking here — what if she really is a full-on lesbian and just using Marcus as an unwitting sperm donor? She can fake being hot for him. After all he's the only one who has to cum to make a baby. Maybe she thinks it's a good trade-off to take a dick every once in awhile if she gets a baby out of the deal."
"Holy shit," Trevor muttered. "So all that about me and Marcus dating was just to keep his balls empty so he wouldn't be all over her every night?"
"Maybe," Elaine said. "Or what if she really wanted you guys to have your relationship so that she would then be free to have one with a woman? I saw that in a movie once on cable, where two boy-girl couples got married but the boys were really together and the girls were really together. It was a comedy and everything went wrong, but it's the same idea."
"Or maybe she'll just hang on for a year and then divorce him," Bev said. "If she proved in court he was cheating with you she would definitely get sole custody of the baby plus alimony plus child support."
"Wow," Elaine said. "That'd be some next-level evil."
"I've got to tell him," Trevor said, getting agitated. "I can't let her do that to him."
"We don't know for sure that she is," Elaine said, trying to calm him. "Maybe she really went straight. Maybe she really loves him. Maybe she really wants him to be happy so badly that she'd share him with you."
They sat a moment in silence, considering.
"Nah," Bev said, waving it off. "That bitch is crazy."
Thanks for reading Chapter 5 of Phillip Anderson (or Current Resident.) Chapter 6 is coming soon.
If you like my stuff have a look at my story archive here on my Prolific Authors page.
If you email me I will add you to my mailing list and notify you whenever I post on Nifty. I won't use your name for any other purpose and I will remove you from the list upon request.