Swing. Air hump. Swing, swing. Air hump, air hump. Swing.
Remi sinks down on the bed, and I stare down at her in amazement as she rewards my performance by removing her bra and tossing it at me rockstar style. I’m revved, on fire, and I lower my hand into my boxers, grasping the hard cock inside. The song is winding down. It’s time for the reveal. The grand finale. No tear-away undies, but I continue gyrating while sliding down my briefs.
The hazed look of lust across Remi’s face matches my own. Naked, hard, and throbbing, I lie down on the bed beside her. My dick presses into her soft thigh, and my hand immediately sweeps up her stomach, filling with one of her exposed breasts. It feels too perfect not to taste. I dip my head down to tongue the tasty pink nipple and then drag my lips across her skin to the other delicious bud. This day, this moment, I didn’t even know until now that I’d been waiting for it. For her.
Remi places a hand on my thigh and slides it up. Her fingers curl, wrapping around my dick.
“I wish I had a first-place ribbon,” she says. Her voice is raspy, needy. “Shut off the light.”
My body is in physical pain leaving the touch of hers, even though it’s only for a moment. I race to the light switch and flick it off. I’m about to pounce back into my bed when a glow outside my window catches my eye. I should ignore it, but the line of shadowy figures looking into my room makes me stop. With the lights off, I can see out the window into the backyard without being seen and I creep over for a better look.
“Fuck me,” I say, expelling what feels like every last ounce of air from my lungs.
“What is it?” Remi gets up from the bed and runs over to stand by my side. Together we look outside to the fire pit and the faces staring up at the house. Mom, Dad, Aunt Lynda, Uncle Walter, Carl, and Katie.
“Oh shit. They can’t see us can they?” Remi covers her bare breasts with her arms.
“No, not now that the lights are off… but—” I gulp. “—when the lights were on, they probably saw everything.” Everything but who I was with. Remi was on the bed, low, out of sight. Unlike me, who was raised up with my humping privates at window level.
“Oh my God.” Remi panics.
“Don’t worry, they probably just saw me. On top of my bed. Doing a striptease. And they probably think I’m by myself.” First there was my questionable boner-hiding moment with my aunt and mom, and now this. “They probably think I’m up here doing some pathetic mating dance before masturbating.”
Remi absorbs that, realizing that yes, she was likely unseen and that I was likely all seen. And when it hits her, she doesn’t laugh a little. She laughs a lot. Uncontrollably. She holds her sides and even snorts during her gasping attempts to bring in enough air.
I’m not sure if I’m more upset at my family getting a front-row seat to my first performance as Magic Adam or at the break in an otherwise incredible moment. I look back out the window. My father and uncle sit by the fire and the rest are gone. I’m guessing they’re inside pouring bleach into their eyes.
The room is quiet. Remi has sobered up from her laughter. She walks over and tugs on the strings that close my blinds. The room is now pitch dark without even a trace of light coming in. Her hand finds mine and guides me over to the bed. She pushes me down but doesn’t join me. A few seconds later, the lights in my room go back on. Remi stands over me on the bed, her thumbs hooking into the sides of her lacy panties. She swings her hips and teases me with a glimpse, lowering them ever so slightly, then returning them back into place. Holy fucking shit. Does this mean it’s my turn for a show?
“Alexa,” she says. “Play ‘Dirty’ by Christina Aguilera.”
The Frisky Chick
We are very noisy.
The song ends and the sounds coming from both of us are so much louder in the now quiet room. Not even words, just moans, loud sighs, and gleeful mewls as the dancing ends and the touches begin.
My hands are overwhelmed by all the nakedness. Who the hell strips down like this for their very first sexual encounter? Us, that’s who. And I fucking love it.
I run my fingers over his firm chest down to his tight abs and follow the trail to his first-place cock. His pelvis bucks against my grip, and he releases a low guttural groan. Hand jobs are for first dates. This isn’t a first date. We’ve technically been on two, and I’m gonna round it up to three to make up for the fact that he did not get a hand job on the first date. My naked logic grants me the permission I need to take this all the way. I release his cock, kissing him wildly and spreading my legs as an invitation. He RSVPs yes, and the first guest to arrive is his tongue.
Oh my… Oh God… Oh Yes….
“Adam,” I squeal. The intense amount of pleasure causes me to squeeze my thighs, crushing his face between my legs. “Sorry,” I murmur, releasing him from my thigh-vise, squirming against the pillow.
His tongue is so deep, so affectionate, so knowing. Forget my G-spot, he’s found my U-spot, the elusive unicorn of spot stimulation. My body tenses once again in an orgasmic response. I can’t control it and pray I don’t kill him while riding out the wave with two legs that have morphed into boa constrictors.
“Oh God… yes,” I cry, giving one final pleasure-controlled face grip. The second I relax, Adam bolts up, gasping for air. Deep breaths pull in through his swollen lips.
“That was…” I wait for him to say crazy, horrible, deadly. “Amazing,” he finishes, falling back on the bed next to me.
He’s kind, funny, smart, generous, and can weather the storm of my uncontrollable vagina. Now it’s my heart that constricts. How can I give back to this guy in a way that will rock him in the same way he just rocked me? Ya know, without doing any butt stuff.
I crawl on top of him and kiss his chest, soft and fluttery with a quick lick of his nipple. I nip my way down to his stomach, gentle bites that don’t leave any marks. He grunts out his enjoyment that turns to a growl when I reach his dick, sweeping my tongue around the pulsing tip. My thumb searches for the sensitive part at the base of his shaft and massages while I continue to tease him with my tongue. He twitches and pants, his hands resting slightly on the back of my head, obviously anxious to push down and urge his dick deeper into my mouth.
Almost.
I bring my tongue down to the base where my thumb was and drag it up before taking him all in. And I am going to brag—I take him all in.
“Oh fuck… Remi.” He scoops my hair up and tugs hard. Nice guy has a naughty side. God, he keeps getting better and better. I pull back slowly, rubbing my lips against his hard length, releasing him before swallowing him all the way back in. “I’m gonna come,” he politely warns me, even though it’s unnecessary. The throb pulsing on my tongue is indication enough. I pull away one more time.
“Go ahead,” I say, and fill my mouth up once again. It doesn’t take long after that. He finishes with a string of groans and a shudder.
The next few seconds are breathless and wordless, lost to the wind-down of lust. That was fast and crazed, and I wonder what’s next.
He stretches his arm toward me and I curl up into him. It’s warm and comforting and for some reason familiar.
Why?
I met him two years ago but hadn’t even seen him again until this weekend. His family claims he loves me. Does he? Is that even possible? What about the way I feel for him? Is it more than I even realize? The last two years for me have been very lackluster in the romance department. Is Adam the reason?
We’re silent and something builds between us. It’s an ache and a tenderness at the same time. The moment has slowed and there’s a change. Adam rolls to face me, and we kiss. A different kind of kiss.
This is not the same as before.
Out of Nothing At All
I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening right now.
Our bodies are locked together, our hips moving, our lips pressed together. The orgasm builds, but this time there is… more.
I can’t explain the more. Wher
e it’s coming from, what it means. But it’s euphoric and I’m afraid to let go for fear I won’t get it back.
Remi tightens around me. It’s softer this time, and she breathes out an elated sigh. My body follows her lead, letting go, the air in my lungs floating around us as I exhale.
I’m completely spent. I’m thoroughly rejuvenated.
This moment is unfathomable to process. And I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in Remi’s mind. Is she having the same feelings? Is this “more” feeling what I think it is?
“Adam,” she whispers softly, “I need you to tell me something.”
“Anything,” I whisper back.
“I need you tell me the Whiskey Chick story.”
“What?” My voice returns.
“I want to hear you tell the story.”
Her words throw me. This is not where I expected this moment to go.
“Why would you want me to tell you that story?”
“I just do,” she says quietly.
I sit up on the bed and scratch my hands over my head. She wants to hear the Whiskey Chick story? Right now?
“It’s a stupid story, one I wish I’d kept to myself,” I say gruffly.
“Please, just tell it one more time. I want to hear you tell it.”
“What’s happening? Is this a joke? Some revenge plan on me because I shared that story?” I’ve been doused in cold water that’s seeping its way into my veins. Whatever this feeling was, this page I thought we were on, I guess she’s on a different one. It stings. My ego is bruised, the heart-shaped one in my chest.
“No, Adam, it’s nothing like that.” She hesitates. “It’s something your sister said to me about that story. I want to hear it for myself.”
My sister? Oh, now I get it. This whole thing, it wasn’t a coincidence. This is a scheme. Some twisted prank.
“My sister doesn’t know shit.” I get up from the bed and search for my clothes. “Whiskey Chick is a legend. A story.” One I made up in my head, turning it into something more than it was.
“So you don’t care about the whiskey chick?” Remi asks, fisting the sheets around her as she wraps herself up.
The whiskey chick? Really? I just made love to this girl, and she’s going to refer to herself as the fucking whiskey chick?
“I don’t even know the whiskey chick,” I say, fastening the button on my jeans and sliding my shirt on over my head. Anger compels me out the door, slamming it as I storm away.
My icy blood turns hot. Unreciprocated feelings will do that to a person. I need a way to release this awful rage coursing through my body before I explode.
A door opens and I turn, expecting to see Remi coming after me, telling me I got it all wrong, but it’s not her.
“Hey, Adam, we need to chat.” My brother jogs down the hall to catch up to me.
“Henry, this isn’t a good time,” I warn him through clenched teeth, fists wound up by my sides.
“I just need one second.” Henry does not heed the warning. “You don’t need to be my wingman anymore. I’m gonna go for Remi. Lori wasn’t my—”
He doesn’t even get a chance to finish before my fist connects with his stupid fucking face. He stumbles backwards into the wall, making a loud crash. Stunned and probably still weak from being sick, he slides down to the floor with a thud. I’ll regret this when he’s feeling better because the guy is capable of kicking my ass, but right now, the satisfaction outweighs any future repercussions.
“What the fuck?” he barks, and reaches up with one hand to grab me by my shirt. The future is now. I don’t have to wait for that ass kicking. I’m yanked down to eye level with a raging monster. “I am going to kick the fucking shit out of you,” he says, his rancid breath already starting the task.
“Go ahead.” I’m so numb from Remi’s rejection it doesn’t matter anyway.
Henry punches me in the gut, and I land a sloppy uppercut to his chin. He elbows my ribs, and I bring my knee up, catching him in the nads. The pain he endures only adds to the wallop I receive to my left eye.
“What are you guys doing?” Jenn’s shriek fills the hallway, and she runs toward us. “Henry, let go of him, you’ll kill him.” She tries tugging me away, and when that doesn’t work, she wedges herself between us, forcing my brother to release his hold on me.
“Get him the fuck away from me.” Henry stands up, dusting himself off. “Right now before I fuck up this motherfucker.”
“Come on, quick, Adam, let’s go.” Jenn knows as well as I do what it means when Henry starts dropping f-bombs like that. I allow her to drag me up and toward her room, where she not only closes the door, but clicks the lock as well for my safety. She presses her ear to the door and listens. “I think he’s gone.” Her shoulders relax and she walks over to sit next to me on her bed, where I’m nursing my swelling eyelid. “Okay, now what the hell is going on?”
“Nothing.”
“No, it’s not nothing. Why are you so angry?” she asks innocently. And that just pisses me the fuck off.
“You tell me.” I jump up from the bed and point an accusing finger at her. “Was this your plan? Or her plan? When did you know?”
“Know what? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“About Whiskey Chick and Remi? Did you figure it out at school? Plan the Henry thing to rile me up? I bet the s’mores didn’t even make you all sick. It was just part of the plan, right?”
“What plan?” Jenn raises her hands. “What is happening right now? I told Remi the whiskey chick story, but you knew that.”
“When did you tell her?” I can picture Jenn telling her over lunch one day, them laughing once they figured it out and devising a plan.
“Here, at the house. You were in the kitchen.” Jenn’s eyes are wide and scared. Is it possible she doesn’t know what I’m talking about?
“Then what was she talking about?” I shake my head, confused. “She asked me to tell her the story. She said you said something. What did you say?”
“Oh. That.” Jenn hangs her head. I knew it. “She asked me why I didn’t try setting you up with her and I kind of told her it was because of the whiskey chick.”
“What about the whiskey chick?”
“Nothing really, it’s just, she had a great time with you today. I could see her interest was piqued, and I didn’t want her to get her hopes up.” She treads lightly. “We all kind of know about your feelings for the whiskey chick.”
“My feelings?” I’ve told that story a million times over the years. She was drunk, she threw up on me, it was funny. People laughed. “What feelings?”
“That you’re in love with her.” Jenn’s voice is small.
“You think I’m in love with the whiskey chick?” I plop back down on the bed.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffs. “We thought you knew.”
“So what exactly did you tell her?”
“Nothing really. I just said it was obvious from the way that you tell the story how you really feel. That’s all. I swear.”
I stare down at the floor. This is insane. I get back up and begin to pace, reliving the day, reliving the night, reliving how it ended. My sister told her that I was in love with the whiskey chick. Remi is the whiskey chick. She only asked me about the story because she wanted to know for herself. Maybe the warmth, the comfort, the familiarity, she felt it too.
Shit. What did I do?
I need to talk to her. Sort this out immediately.
“I gotta go,” I say to my sister before tearing open her door and dashing back to my room.
But when I get there, she’s gone.
Adam Does Not Love the Whiskey Chick
Jenn: Where are you?
I open up the text, afraid to respond and give away my hiding spot. I spent the rest of the night in the room Lori had stayed in. I knew it was empty and probably my safest bet of not being found. I needed to be alone someplace where I could sort out my thoughts and then cry over them. I don’t understand wh
at happened or why Adam left me like that. Did I break some spell by reminding him that I’m the whiskey chick? Or was this all just some big joke?
His family has it all wrong; he doesn’t love her.
Me: Sorry. I knew you still weren’t feeling great so I slept in one of the spare rooms.
Jenn: I’m fine. Everyone is feeling better. My mom is making a late lunch/ early dinner before we all leave.
Me: I’m not hungry. I’ll probably just nap until it’s time to go.
The door opens a few seconds later and Jenn walks in. My secret hideout has been revealed. Dammit.
“What am I missing?” she asks. “Something crazy is going on, and I’m missing it. What happened? And don’t tell me nothing.” She tries to make eye contact with me, but I look away. “Is it Henry? Adam?” I don’t say anything. “Is it the whiskey chick?” She laughs and my eyes betray me, darting a quick glance in her direction. “What, are you the whiskey chick?” she says with another chuckle.
“I just want to go home,” I say as evenly as possible.
“Remi?” Jenn walks over and places her hands on my shoulders, bending down, forcing my eyes to meet hers. “Are you the whiskey chick?”
I nod, and a flood of tears rushes to my eyes.
“But you were wrong. Adam doesn’t love the whiskey chick. I don’t even think he likes her.”
“What? How? Twin. Platinum hair. Pink streaks. Oh my fucking God.” Jenn throws her arms around my neck and hugs me tight. “I can’t believe I didn’t know. Please don’t cry.” Her grip around me tightens. “This is just a big misunderstanding. I swear. We’ll go find him.” She weeps with me. “You need to talk to him.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you have to.” She pulls me up. “You need to splash water on your face, and then you need to go find him.”
Whiskey Chick Page 9