by Jordan Blake
Another shrug. “Close enough. Plus, that leaves Anna Begins by Counting Crows in my future, and no plan including that song can be anything but awesome.”
I had to grin now, thinking of that conversation. She was the smartest, quickest person I’d ever met, and she had a system for everything. Even if some of her ideas were a little unconventional, her level of confidence in them was comforting.
I picked up my phone and swiped the screen to answer as I flopped down on my bed. “Hey, Annie. What’s up?”
“Just checking in. How’s your visit going? Were your parents surprised?”
I snorted. “More like I was surprised. They’re not even home. My dad took my mom on some last-minute tropical getaway. I’m here by myself.”
“Well, are you enjoying the solitude, at least?”
I hesitated, unsure how to answer. “Yeah…”
Come on. That tone didn’t even convince you.
“All right, spill. What happened?”
I sighed, surrendering to inevitability. I knew I was going to end up telling Annie all about my Dinner of Humiliation, whether it was after ten minutes of hemming and hawing or not. Might as well just bite the bullet.
“When I was going out to buy groceries, my neighbor invited me over for dinner.”
“The neighbor?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Bean?”
“Oh God. Why do you always call him that? I looked it up. That’s like, this bumbling, dorky character who never even says anything. Drew is nothing like that.”
“Oh, it’s Drew now? Hmmmm…we’ll get back to that. But I call him Mr. Bean because you flick your bean every time you think about him. Metaphorically, if not literally. I imagine it’s literally more often than not.”
My cheeks heated as I tried to put together a snappy reply. Childishly, I blurted out, “I do not!”
A sigh came over the line, and I could picture Annie shaking her head in disappointment. “Oh, Dakota. Really? That was neither clever nor true. Come on. You’re better than that.”
I had to laugh, which was exactly what I needed. “Anyway, I went over for dinner. I found out he split up with his wife this past fall. So I decided to… you know, go for it.”
Annie’s voice was slow and cautious. “I shudder to even ask this, but what precisely do you mean by ‘go for it’ in this context?”
“Kiss him.”
“Oh, that’s not so bad.”
“I mean, I was planning to do more after. It was gonna be a whole seduction scene. I even Googled it.”
“You Googled it? Well, I can’t imagine what could possibly go wrong with that level of research, but my curiosity is Mt. Everest-sized piqued.”
I sighed. “It didn’t go wrong so much as just never go.”
“OK. Rewind. What exactly happened?”
“We had dinner. We were talking. And I worked up the nerve to kiss him…”
“Yeah. Got that much. What next?”
“I chickened out. I ran out the front door and back to my house. I didn’t even stop to close his front door. In fact, it might still be open.”
“So…your Googling did not pay off, then.”
“Understatement.”
“You know what the problem is? You need to lose your virginity. You’ve got all this pent-up sexual tension you think Mr. Bean can solve because you’ve spent so much time fantasizing about how great he is in the sack. But that’s all conjecture your brain is hanging on to because you have nothing to compare it to. Once you lose your virginity, you’ll see that your neighbor isn’t some magical sex god. He’s just a dude…who’s spent a ridiculous amount of time starring in your mind-porn, sure. But, still. Just a dude.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not a virgin!”
“You are a virgin. Just because you’ve had sex a few times doesn’t mean you’re not a virgin.”
“Um…pretty sure that’s exactly what it means.”
“That’s an arcane definition. Are all gold-star lesbians virgins? Is every girl that uses a tampon no longer a virgin? No…that’s crazy talk! You don’t lose your virginity, not for real, when a something or someone penetrates your vagina. You lose it when someone’s soul penetrates your soul. When you have a sexual experience that’s so intense it changes you forever. Implants a little of that person inside you—a piece you’ll carry around with you forever. If you’ve never been soul-fucked then you’re still a virgin.”
“What are you talking about? Whose rules are these?”
“Mine. And basic logic’s.”
I hated to point out the very obvious virginal elephant in the room, or I guess the conversation, but some things needed to be said. “You’ve got a lot of theories about what constitutes virginity loss for someone who hasn’t lost her virginity by any definition.”
“First of all, I’m a statistics major. I don’t need first-hand experience in order to gather empirical data and draw a correlation. In fact, that could conceivably even be a distraction. Secondly, yes. It’s true. I’m a virgin. So you can see why I’ve put so much time into thinking about it, and why I’ve been so motivated to develop a rock-solid theory.”
“Hard to argue with that. So, basically you’re saying all I need to do to get over my neighbor is find a guy who rocks me to my very core and have a sexual encounter with him that’s so powerful it could be described as a religious experience?”
“Basically.”
“Well, as long as it’s nothing difficult…”
She laughed. “I know, right? Well, I guess I’ll leave you to that pursuit. I just wanted to check in with you. I’m actually headed out right now to…well, look for the same thing myself.”
“Happy hunting!”
“You, too,” she said before disconnecting the line.
I hung up with Annie, feeling cheered just enough that I decided an evening of Ben & Jerry’s and maudlin Tumblr postings weren’t necessary. I’d just check my Facebook real quick to see if my parents were having a good time, and then maybe try to connect with some friends from high school.
As I sat down at my desk, I made a conscious point not to look over at Mr. Sheffield’s, er um…Drew’s backyard this time—the only time I could ever remember not looking over there, let alone intentionally deciding not to look over. It felt strange to skip the ritual, but I was determined not to let my brain get mired down and wallow in the disaster that was our dinner “date.” I was going to get over it and enjoy the rest of my weekend if it killed me.
I opened my computer and pressed the button to power it on, and a light from the den next door caught my eye, drawing my gaze without my conscious consent.
“Dammit!” I cursed under my breath, but by then it was too late. I was hooked. I had to take a look and see what my neighbor-slash-crush was up to. When I looked closer, I saw that the light had been the TV flickering to life. It took a moment for my eyes to process and relay what I was seeing on the screen to my brain.
“Oh my God,” I gasped.
It was porn.
And not just any porn. Schoolgirl porn.
There was a girl on the screen dressed up like Britney Spears from the Hit Me Baby One More Time video. At least that’s how she started out—she didn’t stay dressed like anything for long.
I watched the screen while at the same time stealing glances at Drew, reclined on his couch in the same jeans and button up he’d worn for dinner, doing the same thing. I’d certainly never seen him look at porn before, maybe because it hadn’t been “allowed” when he was married. Now that he was on his own, I figured he was free to play it whenever he wanted, and I had to admit I couldn’t be happier for his newfound freedom.
The girl on the screen got on her knees and started stroking the large penis of her costar. She took him deep in her mouth and a moan escaped the back of my throat as I imagined what Drew would taste like. My eyes darted back to the couch just in time to see Drew place his hand over his crotch.
My eyes wide
ned.
Was he about to pull his dick out?
Was I actually going to get to see his hard cock after all these years of fantasizing about it?
I thought about what Annie had said—the healthy thing was to stop featuring him in my fantasies, stop building him up as a magical Sex God in my mind, stop obsessing over him to the point that I simply couldn’t enjoy sex to the fullest because I was constantly comparing other guys to the person I’d mentally built up as the pinnacle of all things erotic—Drew Sheffield.
I seriously considered standing up, turning around, and walking out of the room… maybe even out of the house if that’s what it took. But then I said, “Ah, fuck it,” and leaned forward to enjoy the show and see how this played out.
The actors on the screen were fully into the scene at this point. The girl was on her hands and knees and the guy was giving it to her good from behind. Still, the hardcore sex taking place on the television was nowhere near as arousing as the action taking place in real life. Mr. Sheffield rubbed his hand up and down the front of his pants. The harder he got, the wetter I got. My pussy ached and tingled as my breath sped up. My eyes bounced back and forth from the TV screen to the couch like I was watching a match at Wimbledon.
He unzipped his pants, and I leaned back and drew in a sharp breath. I really was about to see his cock. Hot. Fucking. Damn.
Jackpot! Good decision to see how this played out.
He pulled it out, never tearing his eyes from the pigtailed girl getting fucked on the screen in front of him, and stroked it enthusiastically. I couldn’t believe my eyes. His cock was big and strong and beautiful. I could almost feel it driving into me as I watched his hand move up and down, the way the porn star’s cock on the screen rammed into the fake-schoolgirl’s pussy in the movie.
As Drew’s hand stroked his shaft faster and faster, a plan began to grow and take shape in my mind. As his climax neared, that plan became fully fleshed out. By the time I watched him shoot his impressive load all over his hand, a wicked smile had taken up residence on my lips. My plan of seduction was fully formed. I knew exactly what I was going to do.
8
Drew
I stood on Dakota’s front porch, taking a moment to appreciate what was about to happen before I rang the doorbell. Last night, I’d reamed myself for not jumping on the opportunity with Dakota. I’d had no idea how soon I was going to get a chance to fix that situation. When she’d called me a few minutes ago and asked me to come over because she really needed my help, alarm had filled me and I’d been halfway out the door when I’d asked her what was wrong. After a pause and then a sharp intake of breath she’d repeated that she needed me, stumbled over her words and then said she needed help changing a lightbulb. Alarm had instantly been replaced with arousal. It was obvious to me right away that was just an excuse to get me inside the house. An excuse to see me. An excuse to have a take-two on our dinner last night.
Ready to give in to my raw desires, I pressed my finger onto the doorbell. Damn. Sweet little Dakota better know what she’s getting herself into.
A few seconds later, the door swung open a few inches. Dakota’s adorable face was peeking out through the crack. “Oh, hi, Mr. Sheffield,” she chirped. “Thank you so much for coming over right away! You have no idea how much you’re saving me right now. I really need you.”
Hearing her high, clear voice say the words I really need you shot straight to my cock like a bolt of lightning, even if they were under the guise of talking about a “light bulb change.” I cleared my throat as I walked into the house.
“You can call me Drew.” My voice was raspy as hell when I spoke, like I had sandpaper instead of vocal chords.
I heard the door close behind me and turned to face the girl that had haunted my every waking and sleeping moment for months now. Her back was still towards me but she spun slowly, showing off what she was wearing. My eyes widened; she had on a short plaid skirt with knee-high socks and black buckle shoes. Her formfitting white button-down shirt was unbuttoned almost to the middle of her belly and pulled apart to reveal a sexy black lace bra that pushed her cleavage sky-high. Her glossy black waves were corralled into two sassy little ponytails on the side of her head, the icing on that sexy-as-fuck cake.
She ran her hands down the hair trapped in her ponytails, stopping at the ends and raising her eyes to look up at me coyly through thick lashes. Her voice was low and sensual when she replied, “But what if I don’t want to? What if I like calling you Mister Sheffield?”
I couldn’t even talk now. Her outfit, her hair, her voice…it was all too much. She tilted her face up to me, her face so sweet and innocent that I almost couldn’t stand it, and said, “Are you going to help me change my light bulb, Mr. Sheffield?”
The shock of what was happening began wearing off. Actually, it was burned off by the heated lust that ran through my veins, supercharging me like I was the hero in a videogame. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so powerful.
She brushed past me and began walking slowly down the hall. I followed behind like a lion stalking his prey. She glanced shyly back at me, peeking over her shoulder as we started up the stairs. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sweet sashay of her perfect, tight ass as she climbed. I hadn't even touched her, and I was so hard I could barely walk straight.
Fuck, this was going to be good.
She led me right into her bedroom. Even though it was tough to pull my eyes away from the magnificent sight of her in that tiny little outfit, I did take a moment to glance around and see what her room looked like. Everything I saw only made me hotter, from the cheerleading photos tacked casually around the edge of her mirror to the frilly pink canopy bed where she slept.
“I like your room,” I said. My voice was low and intense, but it had lost the rasp. Now, it was full of intensity. The shock had completely worn off, and I was in total control of this encounter now.
“I hoped you would,” she said, her voice a shy little whisper. She tilted her head down and looked up at me through long lashes. Her cheeks colored a little, and my cock stiffened.
“I like your outfit, too,” I continued.
“Really?” There was genuine hopefulness in her voice, like my approval meant something to her. Fuck. She was sexiness personified.
My entire body surged with unrestrained passion and snapped my thin thread of control like a twig. “I’d like it more on the floor.”
Her full, lush lips spread into a delighted smile and her skin took on a happy glow. Her eyes sparkled with delight.
Damn, if she only knew how many times I’d dreamed about her tight little body. She was about to find out.
Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned the blouse and shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. God, her shoulders, her cleavage, her tiny waist…she was the perfect fantasy.
“The bra,” I growled, my voice low and guttural, coming from the most animalistic and deepest parts of my stomach. “Take it off. Now.” Her cheeks colored again and she drew in her breath sharply, but she bit her lip seductively and complied. God, yes. I liked pushing her past her boundaries. What I liked even more were the little gasps, eye-widening, and blushing that let me know how much it was turning her on.
She unhooked her bra in the back and let it slip from her shoulders, down her arms, past her fingertips, and to the ground. My eyes snapped immediately to her newly-exposed breasts. They were so beautiful—the perfect size and shape, with the sharp peaks of her nipples pointing slightly upward. So perky. Like they were standing at attention just for me. Hell, maybe they were. I’d like that even better.
Everything in me screamed to close the distance between us and ravage her to sate the primal need roaring in me. I wanted to tear off all of her clothes, throw her down on the bed, and drive myself inside her… make her mine. I wanted to possess every inch of her. But I controlled myself. First I’d devour her with my eyes, then with my body.
Even though I was sure she must’v
e seen the spark of animal lust in my eyes — it would’ve been hard to miss — I didn't give her even a hint with my voice that her body was affecting me. I kept it even and commanding as I said, “Now the skirt.”
Her hands moved to unbutton the tiny piece of cloth circling her hips. It was almost too short to even be called a skirt. I felt like I could already see every inch of her long, coltish legs. When she let it fall to the floor, though, I saw I was wrong. She had not only revealed sweet, modest little white panties—which were hotter on her than any so-called “sexy” lingerie could ever be—but she also uncovered at least another inch of creamy thighs. I involuntarily breathed, “Fuck,” when I saw them. All I could think about was how silky they were going to feel under my tongue as I licked my way up to her tight little pussy.
I stood up straight and got myself back under iron control. Her shaking fingers started to push the elastic band of those little panties down, but I stopped her with a flick of my hand. “No,” I said firmly, “I’ll be taking those off of you. Just slide down your socks.”
She bit her bottom lip as she moaned and closed her eyes at my words. Her nipples grew redder and firmer. I smiled just a little. She liked being told what to do. Good. She was a good girl. I would teach her to be even better. This was going to be fun.
9
Dakota
It felt almost too good to be true—like it was one of the many fantasies I had indulged in starring Mr. Sheffield and not real life. I wanted to keep it going as long as possible; whether it was a fantasy or real life made no difference.
I lifted my right leg and placed my foot on the edge of the bed, then slowly slid my socks down my legs, my movements slow and deliberate, giving him plenty of time to enjoy each new supple inch of flesh that was revealed. The predatory look in his eyes felt like a physical touch.
After both of the socks were lying on the floor, I had fulfilled his order entirely. I was naked except for the little white schoolgirl panties that I’d purposely chosen as I fantasized about him taking them off. Unlike the disastrous dinner, today everything was going entirely to plan.