Personalised Story: Stringing Me Along: Part 2 (Patreon)

Steve didn’t know how long he sat there—knees aching, breath shallow, skin buzzing with shame and want. The window had gone dim now, the soft colours from inside fading as if the room were slowly retreating from him too.

He rubbed his face, heart pounding, cheeks burning. What was he doing? What kind of person crouched outside like this—like a thief, like a ghost?

He wasn’t angry at them. Not really. That was the worst part. How could he be, when they were just… living? Free. Unapologetic. Beautiful.

He envied them.

He envied him, the singer with the tattoos and the confidence and the way Lori looked at him like he was the centre of the universe. And he hated that he envied Robin too—for being inside that circle Lori lived in. For being part of it.

But most of all, he just hated how small he felt.

Steve stood slowly, knees popping, fingers shaking as he brushed dirt off his jeans. He didn’t look back at the window. He didn’t want to see the warmth he was missing.

As he walked back down the dark road to his car, the ache in his chest only grew heavier. The jealousy, sure. The embarrassment, yes. But underneath all of it—deeper—was the guilt. Because no matter what he’d seen… no matter how many reasons he had to walk away…

He still loved her.

Loved Lori with a kind of quiet desperation that clung to everything she touched. Every memory. Every glance. Every careless smile.

She had no idea.

Or maybe she did.

And that was the part that tore him in two—because if she did know, then every sweet touch, every flirtatious smile, every favour she asked of him had been deliberate. Like feeding breadcrumbs to someone she knew would follow them to the ends of the earth.

Maybe she didn’t mean to be cruel.

But it didn’t stop the hurt.

He reached his car and sank into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. The street was silent. The night too still. He didn’t turn the engine on right away.

Instead, he sat in the quiet dark, eyes closed, trying to remember who he was before all this. Before Lori.

But he couldn’t.

Because somehow, somewhere along the way, she’d become the story.

And Steve?

He was just a chapter in hers.

For now.

But chapters could change.

And someday, he thought, gripping the wheel tighter, jaw clenched, someday—he wouldn’t be just the guy on the outside looking in.

He’d find a way to be seen.

Really seen.

By her.

A few days later Steve stared at the message on his phone, heart skipping like it always did when her name popped up.

LORI:

hey, beach day? me + robin. come if you want.

Simple. Casual. Like they hadn’t turned his world upside down just days ago. Like he hadn’t seen everything. Like he wasn’t still carrying the weight of it, quietly, alone.

But still, his fingers were already typing.

STEVE:

yeah. sounds good. what time?

The sun was already blazing by the time he pulled into the beach lot, heart pounding in his chest like he was pulling up to a first date instead of a casual day with friends.

If you could still call them that.

He spotted them instantly—like a flare on the sand. Lori in a red bikini that looked painted on, sunglasses perched on her head, golden hair in a messy bun. Robin beside her in black, laughing, legs stretched out, her curves like something out of a music video.

They waved when they saw him, like nothing was out of place.

But everything was.

Steve adjusted his shorts quickly, suddenly very aware of how tight they were. Great. Of all days to wear something this fitted. He grabbed his towel and forced a smile as he approached.

“Hey, Stevie,” Lori said, eyes trailing down his chest. “Nice of you to show.”

Robin grinned. “He’s already blushing again.”

“Probably the sun,” he muttered, though he knew it wasn’t. It was them. All of them. And the way their skin gleamed under the sun. And how they moved—slow, confident, like they owned the beach. Like they owned him.

They made space for him between them, and he sank down into the sand, desperately trying to focus on anything that wasn’t the curve of Lori’s hip or the way Robin stretched her arms overhead, arching just enough to make him break a sweat.

They passed him sunscreen, joked about how pale he looked. Lori leaned in to rub some on his back without asking, her fingers warm and slow.

“You always tense up like this?” she teased, voice low near his ear.

Steve stammered something—he wasn’t sure what—but it made both women laugh.

“Relax, Stevie,” Robin said, resting a hand on his knee for just a second too long. “You’re with friends.”

Friends. Right.

But how could he be friends with people who didn’t seem to realize what they did to him? Or maybe they did. Maybe that was the worst part.

The heat, the sun, the salt in the air—it all blurred together, but Steve only felt one thing clearly: how hard it was to breathe next to them. How much he wanted to matter in the same way they made him feel invisible. Desired but not desired enough. Touched, but only when it suited them. A constant tease of being close to something he could never quite hold.

He adjusted again, shifting in the sand, praying the tightness in his shorts wasn’t obvious. But Robin caught it. She said nothing—just smirked, then slid her sunglasses down and stretched out again with a sigh.

Lori tossed a beach ball at him lightly. “Come on, Stevie,” she said. “Don’t make us do all the fun stuff without you.”

And just like that, he was back in their gravity again—pulled in, spinning, and hopelessly off-balance.

Still aching.

Still hoping.

Still hers.

The sun was hotter now, the tide creeping in closer, soft waves brushing the sand as the afternoon stretched on. Steve had just finished adjusting the umbrella when Lori sat up on her towel, pulling her hair off her neck.

“Hey, Stevie,” she said, twisting slightly. “Think you could get my back?”

Steve turned, blinking at her. She’d untied her bikini top, letting it hang loose against her sides, sun catching on the smooth curve of her spine.

“I don’t wanna burn,” she added with a smile, holding out the bottle of sunscreen.

His fingers were already sweaty. He took it, swallowing hard.

“Sure,” he muttered.

He knelt beside her, trying not to stare too much. She laid down fully, arms tucked beneath her head, skin glowing under the sun. Her bikini bottoms clung tight to her hips—red, just like before. Everything about her felt designed to short-circuit his brain.

Steve squeezed a bit of lotion into his palm and gently began rubbing it onto her back. She made a soft noise—almost a hum—and arched slightly.

“Mmm, your hands are cold,” she murmured, lips barely moving. “But not bad…”

His fingers stalled.

“Keep going,” she added, glancing back at him with a smirk. “Don’t half-ass it.”

He chuckled nervously, continuing down along her lower back, trying his best to breathe normally.

“Legs too,” she said, stretching one out. “I’m serious—I’ll fry.”

Steve worked in silence, his hands slow and trembling as he smoothed lotion over her calves, then up to her thighs. Every brush of her skin made his pulse spike. He couldn’t help it—he was totally, hopelessly overwhelmed.

And then, just as he was finishing, she tilted her head back slightly and said, “Oh, and Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget my ass.”

He froze.

She was grinning into her towel. “What? I really don’t want to get sunburned there.”

He hesitated, then placed a shaky hand on her hip. His blush burned hot across his cheeks as he worked, trying to stay respectful even as his brain completely shorted out. And then—

He noticed it.

A small, glinting detail peeking out from her asshole just above the curve of her bikini—subtle, but unmistakable. A butt plug.

His breath hitched. It was… deliberate. Private. And she had to know it was visible.

Lori shifted slightly, just enough to make it clearer. “Careful, Stevie,” she said, her voice like a lazy purr. “You’re blushing so much, I think you might be the one getting sunburnt.”

Steve tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a squeak.

She glanced over her shoulder, smile still lazy and devastating. “You okay back there?”

“Y-yeah,” he said quickly. “Just making sure I… get it all.”

Lori chuckled, resting her head back on her arms.

“Good boy.”

And just like that, he was gone again—lost in her orbit. Helpless. Flushed. Aching in places he didn’t know how to deal with.

Still trying, somehow, to matter.

Steve's hands hovered just a second too long before he made himself move. The curve of Lori’s body under his touch was enough to scramble his thoughts—but the glint of the plug tucked beneath her bikini made it almost impossible to focus.

His palms were slick with sunscreen and nerves. Her skin was warm, impossibly smooth, and she didn’t seem to mind how slowly he moved across her. In fact, she hummed again—low, amused. Like she knew exactly what was happening inside him.

“You okay back there, Stevie?” she murmured, voice lilting with mischief. “You’re working real slow. Taking your time…”

He cleared his throat, trying not to let his voice crack. “Just… making sure I don’t miss anything.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, smirking into the towel. “Not many guys pay attention to detail like you do.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, doing everything he could to control the fire in his chest—and the not-so-subtle tightness building in his shorts.

Then came Robin’s voice, light and lazy, drifting over from the next towel. “You’re making him blush again,” she said, laughing. “You know he turns red if you so much as breathe near him.”

“I do like watching him try not to look,” Lori replied, still not turning around.

Robin sat up slowly, stretching like a cat before unclasping her bikini top and letting it fall beside her. “Honestly, Stevie, it’s kinda cute. You’ve seen us at our worst, and now you’re getting us at our best.”

Steve’s eyes darted sideways—then immediately back to the sand. Robin had sprawled back down onto her towel, chest bare under the sun, sunglasses sliding slightly down her nose. She didn’t cover herself, didn’t even flinch. She just yawned and folded her arms behind her head.

His brain stalled. His entire body felt like it was short-circuiting.

Robin caught his quick glance and grinned. “You don’t have to pretend not to look. We invited you, didn’t we?”

Lori let out a soft laugh, her voice muffled into her towel. “Poor guy’s going to explode before we even make it to dinner.”

Steve sat back on his heels, trying to look anywhere but at them. His heart thundered. His shorts did nothing to hide how turned on he was, and now all he could do was try to keep still and hope the moment passed.

It didn’t.

The girls continued chatting, tossing teasing remarks between them, while Steve sat quietly, roasting in the sun and drowning in his own tension. Every second stretched longer than the last.

And even through the haze of embarrassment and desire, one thought kept circling back in his mind:

They knew exactly what they were doing.

And they were enjoying every second of it.

The car ride back from the beach was both a relief and a challenge. Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter than he needed to, trying not to focus on the unbearable pressure in his shorts. He had positioned his towel across his lap under the excuse of drying off, but he was sure they knew.

They always knew.

Robin reclined in the back seat, scrolling through her phone. Lori, riding shotgun, had her feet up on the dash, humming to a song he couldn’t hear over the roar of his pulse.

“Hey,” Lori said suddenly, tapping his arm. “Quick detour. There’s this little place on Main I’ve been meaning to check out.”

Steve glanced at her. “What kind of place?”

She smirked. “You’ll see. Just turn left up here.”

He didn’t argue.

The shop sat tucked between a candle boutique and a yoga studio, its sign handwritten in soft gold: Velvet & Vice. Through the front window, he caught glimpses of lace, satin, and soft lighting. His stomach dropped.

It wasn’t just a lingerie store.

It was that kind of lingerie store.

Before he could hesitate, Lori grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward. “Come on, Stevie. We need a male opinion.”

The bell chimed as they stepped inside, the air thick with vanilla and something floral. Racks of delicate, expensive-looking underwear lined the walls. A red velvet chaise sat near the fitting rooms.

Robin wandered off immediately, trailing her fingers along a rack of sheer bodysuits. Lori didn’t let go of Steve’s wrist.

“You’re gonna be useful,” she said. “Just stand there and tell us what looks good. Be honest.”

“Honest?” he echoed, voice cracking slightly.

Lori grinned. “Painfully.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was seated on the velvet chaise, stiff as a board, hands awkwardly clasped over his lap.

The changing room curtain rustled.

Robin stepped out first, clad in a black corset with matching garters. The material hugged every curve like it had been designed just for her. She gave a slow twirl.

“So?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Too much?”

Steve blinked. His voice barely worked. “I—I think it looks… amazing. The, uh, stockings and everything. They’re… really flattering.”

“Flattering?” Robin laughed. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

Before he could recover, Lori’s voice came from the next stall. “Don’t bully him yet. He hasn’t seen mine.”

The curtain pulled back.

Lori stepped out in red—lace, sheer, delicate, and devastating. The bra barely contained her. The bottoms rode high on her hips, and a matching garter belt sat like a ribbon-wrapped threat around her waist.

Steve’s mouth went dry.

She posed lazily, cocking her hip. “Well?”

He stared, speechless.

She tilted her head. “Use your words, Stevie.”

“I… Your breasts—uh, you look—really good. Like, stunning. And the color. The straps. Everything.”

He wished he could be the one to remove that sexy lingerie she was wearing.

Robin grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”

Lori stepped closer, just enough for him to see the pattern in the lace. “So you like this one?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. It’s… yeah.”

“You’re blushing again.”

Steve laughed nervously. “I think that’s just how my face works now.”

Robin leaned on the edge of the fitting room door, smirking. “He’s gonna pass out.”

Lori tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Or melt. One of the two.”

Steve tried to focus on the floor, but his eyes kept drifting. He wasn’t just turned on—he was reeling. The heat, the pressure, the way they looked at him like they knew exactly what they were doing.

And maybe they did.

And maybe, just maybe…

He didn’t want them to stop.

Steve had lost all sense of time. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there—on that impossibly soft velvet chaise in the middle of Velvet & Vice—but his entire body was buzzing.

Robin had disappeared back into the fitting room, promising something “even more ridiculous.” He was still recovering from the last outfit when Lori’s voice floated out from behind the curtain.

“You’re not ready for this one,” she said, laughing softly.

Steve’s heart dropped and spiked all at once.

Then the curtain slid back.

She stepped out in white: a tight, short nurse’s outfit that looked like it had never seen a hospital. The front was zipped halfway down, revealing the edges of red lace beneath. A tiny, ridiculous little nurse hat sat crooked in her hair.

And she was smiling at him.

Steve’s brain short-circuited. “Oh… wow.”

“I know, right?” Lori said, spinning slowly. “It’s stupid—but hot stupid.”

Before he could respond, she walked straight over, straddled his lap, and sat down.

Steve went rigid—literally, metaphorically, in every way.

Her weight settled on him casually, like this was normal. Like they did this all the time. Her thighs pressed against his, her fingers resting lightly on his shoulders.

She leaned in just enough for him to smell the faint scent of her perfume—sweet, like cherries and heat.

“Okay,” she said, voice sultry and low, “pretend we’re not here. Pretend I’m in my bedroom with some sexy guy, and I’m playing nurse.”

He swallowed. Hard.

She placed her hands on his chest. “He’s sick. Real sick. Needs a lot of… personal attention.”

Steve could barely breathe. She had to feel it—the hard shape pressing against her from beneath his shorts. She shifted slightly, pretending not to notice. Or maybe not pretending at all.

He looked up at her, heart pounding so loud it felt like it echoed in the room. “That’s… amazing,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m sure guys would go crazy for that.”

She smiled lazily. “Would you?”

“I—” He laughed nervously. “I mean… yeah. Definitely.”

Her hands slid up to his neck, thumbs brushing his jaw. She didn’t kiss him—just stayed close. Too close. “You’re such a sweetheart, Stevie. Always saying the right thing.”

Robin’s voice called out from the changing room. “Is he still alive out there, or did you cause him to faint?”

Lori grinned without looking away. “He’s holding on. Barely.”

Steve sat frozen, every part of him screaming with tension—heat, embarrassment, longing, and something darker: that ache to be chosen, to be pulled fully into their world, not just toyed with on the edge.

But Lori? She just played with the collar of the nurse outfit like this was all a game.

And for her, maybe it was.

But for him?

It was everything.

The cashier scanned the last item—something sheer and barely folded—and placed it delicately into one of the glossy black bags now lined up on the counter. Steve shifted awkwardly behind Lori and Robin, still flushed from… everything.

Lori turned casually, patting her sides like she just realized something.

“Oh no,” she said. “I think I left my wallet in my beach bag.”

Robin blinked and then let out a theatrical gasp. “Me too. Ugh. I knew we were forgetting something.”

Steve stared at them, mouth slightly open. “You… both forgot your purses?”

Lori gave him a look that was half-apology, half-amusement. “You don’t mind, do you? You’re such a sweetheart.”

He hesitated only a second. “Yeah. Of course. It’s fine.”

The cashier raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Steve pulled out his card. The total flashed in front of him. He didn’t blink. He couldn’t.

Moments later, he stood at the front of the store, arms full of glossy shopping bags filled with lace, satin, and lingerie he would never forget.

As they stepped outside, both girls turned to him at the same time.

“Thank you, Stevie,” Lori said, her voice sing-song.

“You’re the best,” Robin added.

Then, without warning, they each kissed a cheek at the same time—quick, sweet, devastating. Steve nearly dropped the bags.

His heart was a mess. His shorts still uncomfortably tight. And he could still feel the warmth of their lips as they slid into the car like nothing happened.

They drove in playful silence, Lori tapping her fingers to the beat of a pop song, Robin humming softly from the back seat. Steve’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

The car finally pulled up in front of Lori’s house—a sleek, modern place tucked behind a wall of tall hedges. The golden glow of porch lights cut through the early evening haze.

As Steve stopped the engine, the front door swung open.

A woman stepped outside, holding a glass of water.

Older than Lori—. Blonde. Stunning. Curves that matched her daughter’s. Long legs, smooth skin, and a confidence that radiated from every step. She wore a robe, loosely tied, over something silky that shimmered in the light.

“Mom,” Lori called. “We’re back!”

Her mother gave a slow smile, eyes settling on Steve.

“And who’s this?” she asked, voice warm and teasing.

Lori leaned close to Steve, her breath near his ear.

“Careful,” she whispered. “She’s worse than me.”

Steve swallowed hard.

The girls slipped out of the car, leaving him there—still gripping the wheel, bags of lingerie in the back seat, and the ghost of two kisses burning on his cheeks.

And now… another woman he couldn’t stop staring at.

Steve realized something in that moment.

He wasn’t out of their world yet.

He was deeper than ever.

It was time to meet Lori’s mom...