by Clark, Mia
"Sure," I say, smiling.
We get into the back with our cotton candy and sit. I'm far to the right at first, but Ethan is kind of halfway between the far left and the middle. I take a test scoot closer to him, then another one, and one more, until we're sitting close, side by side, my leg touching his.
"You sure you want to do that?" he asks, smirking at me.
"I don't know, do I?" I counter.
He holds his cotton candy in his left hand, but reaches to grab my thigh with his right. His fingers wrap around my leg, tight and demanding, squeezing. It's not exactly overtly sexual, but the overtones are definitely there. This is a safe sort of sexual, I guess. It's what we're allowed to do in a public setting, since no one can see us, not unless they stare right into the window.
"Ethan?" I say, looking over at him.
"What's up, Princess?" he says.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
I don't tell him. There's nothing to tell him. I just want him to know. Thank you.
*** Ethan
Look. Listen up. I don't do this. This is not what I do. This was never my plan, this isn't in the cards, if you read my zodiac for today it definitely wouldn't say anything remotely even close to whatever the fuck is happening right now.
I don't date girls; I have fun with them. I don't get cuddly, or at least I don't get any more cuddly than necessary. Yeah, alright, after you fuck a girl hard, sometimes you have to cuddle for a little while to calm them down and bring them back to the reality of what's around them. My cock has that affect on women. Not sure what else to tell you there.
I've dealt with girls like this before, too. The ones who think they can change me. They're the ones that I end it with the fastest. They're the ones that maybe get a lay or two, a couple of fun times in bed with me, and then I'm done with them. A week, max, and nothing more than that.
Well, what the fuck, that's what I'm giving Ashley, isn't it?
The problem is that it's me who decides this shit. I say when it's over. I say when we're done. I say what we're doing. I tell them how it's going to be, and I told her how it's going to be, too, but then what the fuck am I doing?
We're sitting in the backseat of one of my dad's cars, just hanging out, watching a movie, except it's way more than that, too. She's close. Real close. So close that if she moved away right now, the right side of my body would feel cold without her. And that's some real fucked up shit, let me tell you. I don't like it. I don't want to like it. This isn't what I do.
But I'm doing it, so what's that say about me? I have no fucking clue.
I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her even closer, and she tilts her head to the side, resting it against me. Slowly, just a little, inch by agonizing fucking inch, she reaches over and grabs my left hand, then pulls it into hers. We're holding hands, fucking cuddling, watching this stupid romantic comedy flick.
It's not so bad. The movie's alright. Can't say I hate it. It's pretty good, but it's not something I'd watch on my own. It's the type of movie I'd bring a girl to at the beginning of my week or two with them just to get them in the mood and ready for more. Light and fun, that's how I roll. Save the deep philosophical questions for someone else. Ask them to the guy who isn't going to be ignoring your calls in a couple of weeks.
"Ethan?" she says, looking up at me. "You don't like the movie, huh?"
"Nah," I say. "It's alright."
"We can just talk if you want to. We don't have to watch it. I just like it here. It's simple, you know? It doesn't feel weird or complicated. I thought it'd be nice to come here with you."
What the fuck? Yeah, I need to have a talk with her alright. Just give me a second to compose my thoughts. This is complicated.
"Look, Princess," I say. "You know me, don't you?"
She looks up at me with a strange look in her eyes. I don't like that look. "Um... yeah?"
"You know what I do. You know what we're doing. Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"Huh?"
"I don't date girls," I tell her, because it's the truth. "And we can't date, either. What's with the cuddling and shit? What's with having me bring you to see some movies at the drive-in?"
She shrugs and stiffens a little in my arm. "I know all that," she says.
"Good," I say. "Glad we got that out of the way. I just don't want you getting any expectations out of what's going on here. We've got rules to follow."
"Why do you do it?" she asks.
"Huh?"
"I don't understand why you do it," she says again. "I know maybe it's hard to find a girl you like, but you've never had a real girlfriend, have you?"
Fucking... fuck. This is new. Usually I have girls trying to talk about themselves. More specifically I usually have them trying to subtly (or not) explain to me why they're different and why they can be my first girlfriend. Instead, I've got Little Miss Perfect over here asking me why I don't find a girlfriend. Not even her, just some girl, right? What the fuck is this shit?
"You wouldn't understand," I tell her.
"I'm smart," she says. "I bet I would."
"Yeah, you're smart," I say. I can at least admit that. "It's not always about book smarts, Princess. There's a lot more to life than that."
"I know," she says.
Oh yeah? Well, good. Glad she knows. I think we're done here, then. Let's just go back to the movie.
Or not.
"I think you'd make a good boyfriend," she says. "To some girl. Not me."
"Not you?" I ask. Why did I ask that? I don't know, probably because I'm an idiot. Ashley's the smart one, remember?
"Obviously," she says. "You're my brother now."
"Yeah," I say. "Kind of fucked up how that worked out."
"What do you mean?" she asks.
Shit. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
We go back to silently watching the movie, or so I think, but it doesn't last for long.
"What do you want to do?" she asks.
"I want to watch this movie and then go back home and fuck you," I say. Is that blatant enough? I hope so.
She laughs. Holy fuck, she laughs. I didn't think it was funny, but whatever. I guess it's a little funny.
"I meant after college. Do you have any plans? Are you going to play football professionally?"
Yeah, now it's my turn to laugh, which I do. She cuddles close to me and squeezes my hand, though, which makes me shut up fast.
"Nah," I say. "Doubt I'd be able to. Never planned on it, anyways. It's fun, but not something I want to do for the rest of my life."
"What do you want to do, though?" she asks.
"Why are you asking me this shit?" I say. "What's it matter?"
"I'm just curious," she says. "That's all."
Oh, well, is that it? That's all? She's asking way too many questions. She's going to make me say something I'll regret.
And... let's just count down, shall we? How long until I do it? Hm...
Three... two... one...
"I want to start my own business," I say. "A club. Something nice. Classy but fun."
"Huh!" she says, like this is some novel, breakthrough idea. I guess it kind of is. "Why?"
Holy fuck. Why? Wow.
"It's stupid," I say. "Don't worry about it."
"It doesn't sound stupid," she says.
"How the fuck can you say that? You don't even know what the idea is."
"I know," she says. "That's why I'd like to hear more about it."
What's up with this reverse psychology bullshit? I don't like it. I don't say more—I just straight up refuse—but then she cuddles close again and squeezes my hand. I'm not used to this. Apparently this is my tragic flaw, my one true weakness.
"I want to make a place where girls can go and have fun, but they can meet guys who aren't dicks," I say.
"Like you," she adds with a grin.
"Fuck you," I say, but I grin, too.
"You already did," she says.
Wow
. Touche, Princess. Slick comeback.
"It's stupid, alright, but I know what it's like. I'm an asshole. I've seen it all before. I know what's up. I can tell if a guy is an asshole or not, so I want to keep those fucks out of the club and get some nice guys in. Not too nice, not those stupid white knight fucks who believe in friend-zone shit. I don't even know if it's possible, though. Was thinking of doing something like a dating site to go along with it. Maybe make a whole set of clubs for different stuff, too."
"Like a private club?" she asks. "So you can have people fill out questions or something like that to see if they fit, with personality tests to go along with it, and then girls can go to the club and know that the guys there aren't going to try and take advantage of them. That sounds neat. I... I don't go to clubs, Ethan, but I know girls who would like that. Sometimes they just want to go out and have fun, but sometimes it's nice to meet people, too, you know? But it's hard, because a lot of the guys..."
"Yeah," I say. "They just want to hook up for the night. I know."
The next question seems pretty fucking obvious, but I don't expect it.
"Do you do that?" she asks.
"Nah," I say. "No point in it."
"I guess not," she says. "Girls are probably all over you. I don't know why."
"Wow. Really? My own sister with the sick burns tonight. I thought I gave you a few good reasons why earlier."
"That can't be the only reason," she says, rolling her eyes.
"Orgasms are a pretty fucking great reason," I say.
"They are nice..." she says, her voice dreamy and cute. Fuck, I love it. "I think they're hoping you'll pick them, though."
"I did pick them," I say.
"That's not what I mean. I meant for more. They're hoping you'll change for them and stay with them. Maybe forever."
"I don't do that," I say.
"I know you don't," she says.
"Good. Glad you get it," I say.
"You just have fun with girls," she says.
This is going somewhere. She's doing it again, isn't she? If this were a court of law, I'm pretty sure there'd be an objection for leading the witness right about now.
"Yeah," I say. "That's what I do."
"I want to have fun with you, Ethan," she says.
"Princess, you and I are going to have a whole lot of fun, don't even worry about it."
"Now?"
Well... fuck. Going to be honest, I'm hard. I've been hard this entire time. Do you know what it's like to have a constant erection? I didn't before recently. It's like a fucking drug. You get lightheaded from all the blood being redirected to your cock, and you end up saying stupid shit to your stepsister, and you don't sound like nearly enough of an asshole for a guy who's built his entire reputation around being a bad boy prick.
It's just a really fucking bad situation to be in is what I'm saying.
Ashley lets go of my hand and reaches towards my pants. I've done this before. This isn't my first rodeo. I lift up my hips and give her easy access to unbutton, unzip, and pull down my jeans a little. My cock pops free, bouncing into the air. Yeah, going commando here. Tried to put some underwear on, but it kept pissing me off since my cock refused to go soft. It's a serious problem.
I need a doctor or something. Maybe a nurse. Probably just a blowjob. In my experience, blowjobs usually fix a lot of problems.
Instead of holding my hand, Smarty Pants is holding my cock now. Not nearly as cuddly and sweet, to be honest. I like the way her hand fits around my shaft. Her fingers are a little smaller than average, and it just looks really fucking erotic.
You want to know a surefire way to make a girl blush? Or slap you. One of those. When you first meet her, go up to her, shake her hand like a real gentleman, and then say, "You know, your hand would look amazing holding my cock."
It's a crowd pleaser, for sure.
Except, seriously, Ashley's hand looks amazing holding my cock. No joke. Not even trying to be an asshole right now. I know, right? There's a first time for everything.
She strokes me up and down, slow. She's still watching the movie. I don't know why this is more of a turn on. I'm aroused as fuck, though.
"This is fun," she whispers to me. "No one can see us, but we're out in the open."
"You ever done this before?" I ask.
"No," she says. "Never."
"Never as in... none of it?"
She shakes her head. "It all just um... well, I've had sex, but..."
"Spit in your hand," I tell her.
She freezes. All of her. Even her hand on my cock. I pry her fingers away and hold her hand lightly, like a delicate fucking flower. Yeah, that's right. I'm romantic as fuck.
"Do it," I say. "Trust me."
I bring her hand up to her mouth and hold it beneath her chin. She just kind of... drools? It's not spitting at all. It's like a slip of saliva crawling down her tongue and into her palm.
"Princess, I get it. You're not the kind of girl who does this shit. But we're going to do it, alright? Unless you want to stop right now," I say. "Do you?"
She shakes her head, no. "It's just weird," she says.
"It's not weird. It's sexy as fuck. Now, seriously, just go all out. Not too crazy. Don't want to spit everywhere. But do it like you mean it."
She nods. This is serious. And funny. She's treating this like I'm some teacher and she's a student sitting in a classroom. Which... well, fuck, I guess it's kind of true. This is some next level calculus, isn't it? Let me write out the equation for you. I know it well
SPIT + HAND + COCK = HANDJOB
The tricky part is solving for O. Don't worry, I plan on showing Ashley exactly how it's done.
She does it. She spits. It's good, too. I can't stop staring at her. There's a little slip of saliva creeping from her lip to her palm, just hovering there. I want to see that same thing later, but from her lip to my cock when she's taking a break from giving me head.
My cock twitches in anticipation at what's coming next. I guide her hand back to my shaft, wrap her fingers around it again, and help her with the first few strokes.
"See?" I say. "Yeah, I can see how maybe it seems gross at first, but trust me, it's sexy. You just have to own it. Don't think about it, don't worry about it, just make it your thing. Trust me, it's an instant turn on."
"You were already turned on, though," she says with a smirk.
"Yeah? And now I'm turned on even more."
"More?" she asks.
"Princess, I've been waiting hours to do something like this with you."
"What does that mean?" she asks.
What's that mean? I laugh. "Sometimes it's nice to go slow. Other times it's good to go fast. You want to see me cum? Just go fast right now. It won't take long, I promise."
"Can I?" she asks, her eyes lighting up. "Um... you won't be mad? I've never seen it before. When a guy cums, I mean. I'd like to."
I gesture towards my cock with a flourish, like a gentleman opening a door for a lady. I'm not a fucking gentleman, and this lady just spit in her hand so she can use it as lube to give me a handjob, so...
"Yeah, by all means, have at it."
She does. Slow at first, gaining confidence, and then she's full on into it. Shit. I squeeze my ass against the seat, tensing my thighs. I'm not that bad at this. I can hold off a little, make it exciting for her.
"Ethan, I want to see it. Tell me when you're going to, alright?" she asks.
Yeah, well, fuck. Do you know how sexy those words are? Really sexy. I can't even begin to tell you. This is about her, not me. This has always been about her, not me. I've been waiting for hours to cum, and I kind of thought I was going to do it deep inside her gorgeous pussy, but whatever works, right?
"Slow down a little, Princess," I say. "Just slow down for five seconds, then speed up again, back and forth like that, alright?"
"Slow for five, then fast for five, and slow again?" she asks.
"Yeah, just like that."
She
slows down. Aw yeah. Smooth and slick, I can see my cock glistening with a mix of my precum and her spit. Then fast. The shine glimmers in the moonlight, a combination of the speed of her strokes and the shimmer of the lubrication.
Slow. Fast. Yeah. That's it. Slow again.
"Fast," I say. "Don't stop."
She listens. She does exactly what I say. It's fucking intoxicating, that's what it is. My body tightens and my balls prepare to unleash my pent up arousal. Little Miss Perfect leans down to watch. If my eyes weren't glazed over in lust, I'd probably warn her to back up right about now, but uh... yeah...
I'm done. I cum. She keeps stroking me and I squirm from the sensation. My seed shoots up, fierce and hard. My cock was kind of expecting pussy to lambaste, but it's just got open air, so the force is more than excessive. Mostly it just shoots up, then splashes back down. Mostly.
She's close. Watching. One jet of cum hits her cheek near her lips. That one's going to stick. There's no coming down from that. She gasps and flinches, backing up, then she starts to laugh.
She's fucking laughing. And stroking my cock. I'm still coming. Shit, it's sensitive. Too much. But she's not stopping. Holy fuck, that's nice. Usually I make them stop right now, but I'm not sure if I want her to or not. I kind of want to go again. Is that normal? Fuck if I know.
She stops eventually. My cream's all over her fingers and some is on the corner of her lip. I stare at her, brow furrowed.
"That's what you get," I say. "You can't get too close or something like that's going to happen."
And you know what? You know what she does?
She pokes out her tongue and licks her lips. Not just her lips, but to the side, towards my cum. Just laps that shit up. Pulls her tongue back in, wrinkles her nose. She looks real contemplative right now, like she's thinking about something deep and meaningful.
"You taste good, Ethan," she says. Then she brings her hand to her mouth and starts licking my cum from her fingers. "Wow."
Instant erection. I thought I just came, but now I don't even know what's real or not. Maybe this is all a dream. I'm going to wake up and none of this will have happened.
I dive for her. I'm done. This is over. Movie? Where the fuck are we? I don't fucking care. I grab her pants, practically rip the button off, slam down the zipper, and pull her jeans down her legs. Not all the way. I don't fucking care if they're off or not. They just need to be off enough for me to ram my cock inside her.