Keida had been smiling in a subtle way to remind her that she'd held on to him while he was inside her, like her inner didn't want to let him go. Perfect girls usually have imperfect sensory preferences contra thier supposed dreamscapes. He'd enjoyed the way her body had given him some truth about their future. While Haley was serene, her tastes could be convinced otherwise. There was something unspeakably debauched about fucking her hard, but also making her like it. He'd almost gotten hard again when he watched the pretty girl use her skirt to wipe the traces off him away. How perfect that she'd have to walk the small distance home with his stains on her clothes. At least she'd bought the part about the image's obliteration.<br/><br/>He dropped his head in a playful bow when she spoke her gratitude. Keida also saw the fault in her thanking him, but he was more gleeful about it. "No, Haley. Thank you." He followed her to the door, and almost kissed her goodbye when she left. "I suppose." he answer when she excused herself with as few words as possible. By the time she'd reached her own door there'd be a message for her on her phone.<br/><br/>Don't wash that skirt.<br/><br/>There wasn't really a tone to speak of with the letters, but he hoped what he'd shown her thus far would make her think twice about drowning his scent and the proof of her own pleasure in detergent and boiling water. She didn't know he had the video, so he wouldn't be all too merciless if she went against him. For all she knew, he only had his whispers as proof now. Keida looked at that clip a couple of times that night, and liked to pause on her face when she looked up at him with his cock in her mouth. He must have cum to that screen at least a handful of times before he'd laid down, exhausted, to sleep, with pairs of her underwear on either side of his pillow.<br/><br/>-<br/><br/>Cain had been let in by Cassandra, Haley's mother, on her way out. It was perfect, really, and he'd almost wished it wasn't. His heart was beating fast and he'd not even gone out running today. He wore a thin blue sweater, almost as bright as his eyes, and beige pants. It seemed out of place to confess in shorts, despite the sweltering weather. He was punctual, standing in her hall, even though Cassandra had told him to go right on up. He looked at himself in the hall mirror, and tried to smile. Many would have said his smile was dashing, but he couldn't see it. It would have to do.<br/><br/>He came up the stairs, the house seemingly buildt for people of Haley's family's stature, and it made him look awkward with his long limbs. He knocked on her door, and he felt brave until it gave for the slight force of his rhythmical knuckles. He stuck his head in, hair kept in place with some product, which was basically its normal charming disarray, but shining, today. Why was he sweating?<br/><br/>"H-hi, Haley?" he said with hesitant enthusiasm before stepping inside. "How's the essay?" he laughed like it was a joke.