by Clark, Mia
Except I forgot my shirt. Not really. I didn't wear a shirt on purpose, and it doesn't bother me, but when Julia sees me walking to the gate to let her in, her jaw drops. The pretty bitch just stands there, staring at me, practically salivating over my ripped abs. Yeah, that's right. I work out. Sexy as fuck, and don't you forget it.
I'm not trying to be. I didn't plan on this. It's not like I want to hook up with my sister's friend or anything. Not that I have anything against it, either, but this isn't supposed to be like that.
Well, fuck, she's still staring at me.
I open the gate and let her in, and she stammers out some words of thanks.
"Umm... thanks... hey, Ethan," Julia says.
"Hey, what's up?" I say. You know, common greeting, right?
This chick takes it super seriously. I didn't mean to start a full on conversation here, but whatever.
"Oh, just going to hang out with Ashley. She texted me last night. I would have come over, but she said you two were having a movie night together? That's so nice of you! I wish I had a brother like you that I could hang out with."
By that, I'm pretty sure she means she wishes she had man candy to stare at, because going by the way she can't keep her eyes off my abs, she's not at all interested in just hanging out with someone like me. Yeah, she wants the D. Oh well, what can you do?
"Yeah," I say. "She's inside. Let's go."
Julia starts following me like some lovesick puppy dog, which is probably pretty close to the truth. I don't know why this shit happens to me. I mean, no, I know why it happens, and I should have put a shirt on or something, but it probably would have happened either way. Once we step inside it gets even worse.
Holy fuck, girl, my eyes are up here. Yeah, the air conditioner is on, and, yeah, my man nips are hard. It's natural. Biology or whatever. I'm just not that into you. I'm sure I could have sex with this girl if I wanted to. It wouldn't be hard. She's pretty cute, decent body, probably into it. I like her voice, too. That's important, alright? When a girl screams your name while you're thrusting into her, pounding the fuck out of her, naked and covered in sweat, you want it to sound nice.
"Ethan! Ethan! Yes! More! Ethan! Yes!"
Yeah, I bet Julia would be good at that. I can believe it.
"You look different," she says, putting a hand on my bicep. "You play football, right? I know you did in high school but do you still play in college?"
"Yeah," I say. "Quarterback. We went 11-1 this year. Good season."
"So you won eleven games?" she asks.
Uh, yeah, that's exactly what that means...
I think I'm supposed to be polite right now, though. This is Ashley's friend, so it makes sense. Why the fuck does she keep touching my bicep? Chicks always do this. I don't get it. Do I walk up to them and just start copping a feel, groping their breasts? Nah, I don't think so. I wouldn't mind, though. Maybe I'll try it sometime.
And then she moves to the abs. It's like a fucking script, preplanned. I could have told you all of this would happen. Yeah, where's my shirt? I don't fucking know. Ashley's the smart girl. Why the fuck didn't she tell me to put my shirt on? I'm blaming this on her.
"So... do you have a girlfriend?" Julia asks. "I've just been um... curious. Not for any reason. I'm single, myself. Haven't met any nice guys yet, so..."
I have no clue what that means. I'm definitely not a nice guy. I mean, obviously she wants my cock, but that still doesn't make me a nice guy. Well, whatever. Let's just go with it.
Because, yeah, you know what? I just realized this, but it's important. Friends with benefits. With Ashley. For a week. And then what? I need a way to break it off. I need Ashley to know what a prick I am, to want nothing to do with me. It's going to be hard. For her. Not me. I've done this a million times before. No big deal.
I think Julia is the answer, though. When I'm done with Ashley, I'll coincidentally start hanging out with Julia, get them both to hate me, then they can hang out together and hate me at the same time. Girl talk. Movie nights. The whole nine yards.
Wait. Wow. Fuck. What if Ashley has a movie night with Julia to get over me, and they both get drunk and... nah. That doesn't happen, does it? Accidental lesbians? Bisexual? Huh...
I'm too lost in my fucked up ideas to realize that Julia's fingers are creeping past the waistband of my pants and we're standing in the middle of the hallway, right by the stairs. My cock is still twitching, ready for some action after leaving Ashley, and I think it's giving this thirsty chick some ideas, too. No clue. It's definitely not just my shirtless abs she's staring at anymore.
*** Ashley
After Ethan goes to let Julia in, I shower again quick. Nothing too intensive, but I'm sweaty and slick from our sudden steamy fun and I think Julia and I are going out, so I want to smell and look nice. That's the plan, at least, but once I'm in the shower I can't stop thinking about what happened.
It wasn't an accident this time. I knew exactly what I was doing, and...
I'm so smooth! This is strange. I like to keep myself trimmed down there, just because, but after Ethan shaved all of my pubic hair off I'm surprisingly soft and smooth. I keep touching myself, amazed at how nice it feels, but um... it starts to feel nice in more ways than one. I remember how Ethan touched me, how he made me feel, and my fingers kind of end up having a mind of their own. It's startling, but nice, too. It seems natural. I...
I stop. I need to get out of this shower! I need to get dressed! Also, I want to save that. For Ethan. My God, how awful does that sound? I want to save my orgasms for my brother. Weird. Gross.
He's my stepbrother. I don't know why I need to keep reminding myself of that, but I do. It makes this better. Sort of. More understandable. Reasonable and alright, you know? Because we aren't actually related or anything. Just by marriage. It's not like this is actually wrong, it's just a social construct we've built up in our heads. It's something society tells us is unacceptable even though there's technically no reason for it to be.
Maybe if we'd grown up together for... longer... then it would be a lot weirder.
I don't know if that works, either, though. I've known Ethan since second grade, and we weren't stepbrother and sister then, but I still knew him. I have grown up with him in a way. Not in the same way, but I know more about him than I care to admit. I know about how he got suspended from school for giving a teacher a box of spiders as a gift. That was kind of funny, actually. Not at the time, and the teacher screamed. Ethan wrapped it up and everything, put a bow on top, and made it seem like an actual present.
They weren't dangerous spiders. Opiliones, sometimes referred to as harvestmen or daddy longlegs. When I was younger, after my dad died, when my mom and I used to sit outside on the porch in the evening at my grandparents house when we were staying there, trying to get back on our feet, they used to come out and skitter around us. I remember being scared at first, but my mom showed me they weren't scary. After that, I used to hold my hand out and sometimes they'd crawl onto my fingers and just stand there, staring at me.
Girls are supposed to be scared of spiders. That's what everyone says. I don't like other spiders, but I like daddy longlegs. I like the way their little legs stretch out, how they seem curious and interested in the world around them. Maybe I'm projecting. I don't know.
After Ethan gave our teacher a box of spiders, she screamed and threw it into the air. The spiders skittered out, surprised. I felt bad for them, and worried, too. A classroom wasn't any place for spiders, especially because they might get hurt. Obviously they weren't going to hurt anyone; it's impossible. I remember running over to help them, to put them back in the box to keep them safe so I could bring them outside...
Another boy in our class stood up to play the hero, or so it seemed. While I stooped to try and gather the spiders back in the box to keep them safe, he lifted up his leg and prepared to stomp on them.
Ethan punched him. Hard. I didn't see it happen, but I heard the other boy's jaw crack and hea
rd the sound of him falling to the ground, crashing against the metal legs of a school desk.
I'm not sure if Ethan got suspended for the spiders or the punch, to be honest. Or maybe a combination of the two. He was almost permanently expelled, but his father donated a sizable sum of money to the school as reparations and they transferred him to another class, too. That was the last day of that school year that I had class with Ethan Colton. I still saw him during recess and lunch, though.
I used to like him, then. I used to think he punched the boy to protect the spiders. And to save me. Not that the other boy meant to hurt me, but my fingers were in the way, or maybe they were. I didn't see it all. I...
Wow. How foolish. Why am I thinking about this now? He didn't do any of that for me. Ethan was just a troublemaker. A bad boy. That's how he's always been.
I used to imagine he was looking at me at lunch or during recess, though. Sometimes. Except when I went to look, he never was. He was always turned away. Fast, maybe, like he didn't want me to see him staring. That's what I thought. I don't think that anymore.
I don't think I think that, at least.
I dress in a cute patterned skirt and a nice tanktop, trying to forget about the past, to just live in the moment. It doesn't matter if Ethan Colton secretly looked at me years ago during recess, or if he protected me from a boy when I was trying to save the spiders. He's looking at me now. He sees me now, sees me here. Maybe it's not the same as what I used to think... (what I used to want?)
It doesn't matter. It's a week, it's us for a week, and it's enough. It has to be.
With benefits, yes, but I hope Ethan will still be my friend after. Is that too much to ask? Maybe. Maybe he'll think it's a lot. Maybe he won't want that. I don't know if it's possible.
Once I finish putting on my shoes and fix my hair quick in the mirror, I step outside my room and walk down the hall to the stairs. I tried to blow dry my hair as much as I could, but it's still a little wet, and it sticks and clings to the back of my neck and my shirt. My neck prickles and shivers at the feel of it, but...
Oh my God. What's going on? My entire body shivers at what I see when I step down the last stair and turn into the hallway.
Ethan is standing there, near the front door, between the kitchen and the den, right in the middle of the hall, and Julia is there, too. She's clinging to him, close; too close. Her hands are on his abs, his waist, fingers peeking beneath the waistband of his pants. Obviously Ethan is shirtless. I hadn't thought about it when he left to let Julia in, because I kind of just liked staring at him shirtless, but now that I think about it, um...
I clear my throat and glare at the two of them. "Um, excuse me!"
Ethan looks up, brow furrowed, staring at me. "Hey, Ashley," he says.
Julia is a little more circumspect. She pulls her hands out of Ethan's pants and backs away. "Oh, um... hey Ashley. I was just talking to Ethan about college and football and..."
"Sorry, Julia," I say, marching towards the two of them. "I need to borrow my brother for a second. I'll be right back and then we can hang out."
I don't blame Julia. This is obviously Ethan's fault. He's always like this. This is how he's been since forever. Has he slept with her before? I don't think so, but I'm not sure. I like to think that Julia would have told me at some point, but maybe it just never came up. Maybe they're...
Ugh! I can't believe him! With her, right after he... with me? And...
I grab Ethan's arm and drag him down the hall, bringing him into one of the downstairs guest bedrooms. This is a horrible choice of room, but it was the first open one I saw through my raging anger, and it has a door that I can close and lock behind us. Which I do. Loudly. Then I push Ethan. Again. He's stronger than me. This isn't doing anything to him. He doesn't even care. Why is he doing this? Why is he smirking and laughing at me.
"Hey, I think you have the wrong idea," he says.
"Wrong idea?" I ask. "You were flirting with my friend! Right after... after we..."
"Shh, Princess," he says, smirking even more now. "Don't want her hearing, do you?"
"Have you slept with her?" I ask. "Is that it?"
"Nah," he says. Just casual, easy as that. Nah.
"Were you going to? Were you planning on it, Ethan? Because..."
Because why? We're not in a relationship. We're not boyfriend and girlfriend. He has no reason not to sleep with her if he wants to, which, if I know Ethan Colton, means he probably will. He's an asshole like that and I hate him, and...
"Listen, Ashley, I don't know what you think friends with benefits means, but in my world it means you can't get upset about something like that. If you can't handle it, maybe we should just back off and stop this right now."
Maybe we should. I can't exactly disagree with him. It makes sense. It makes sense for us to never have even tried to do this in the first place, too, though. It's just...
Then I remember. I think of something. I don't know if this will work, but it doesn't hurt to try. Right?
"Ethan, we need another rule," I say. "Rule number ten. You can't sleep with any other girls while we're... we're doing what we're doing."
"While we're fucking the shit out of each other and having a good time," he says, smirking.
"I'm being serious!" I say, but the way he smiles, the way he says it so casually, it makes me smile, too. Is that what we did? Fuck the shit out of each other? It sounds crass and rude, but also incredibly accurate.
"Usually I'd tell you to fuck off," he says. "Usually."
"Because you're an asshole," I say, nodding. "Not just usually, but always."
"Yeah," he says, grinning. "I'll give you a break, though. Since we're just in this for a week, I'll follow your rule. Number ten, right? I'll even remember the number, just for you, Princess."
"Shut up," I say.
"Make me," he says.
I do. I make him. I push him, again, and he falls back against the bed. I follow, climbing on top of him, straddling him. My skirt bunches up around the tops my thighs, and Ethan pulls it up even more, lifting it past my waist. While I straddle and sit in his lap as he sits on the guest bed, he cups my ass and pulls me close.
I shut him up. I make him shut up. I press my lips against his and kiss him hard. He kisses me back with more passion and desire than I ever thought possible. I don't know if this is an Ethan Colton thing, or if it's a regular sexual thing, but no one's ever kissed me like this. I've never kissed anyone else like this, either.
His hands slip between my panties and he teases at the smooth, soft folds of my sex with his fingertips, sliding them back and forth. I'm aroused, I realize. I know I am, but I realize it even more as Ethan coats his fingers with my arousal, caressing my wetness back and forth between my thighs. I don't care. I don't care that Julia is in the hallway, that she's expecting me to come out to spend time with her, that she was...
I do what she was doing. Sort of. I trace my fingers down my stepbrother's abs and slip my fingers in his pants. He grins, and slips his fingers in...
In me. One, then another. Pushing, pulling me more into his lap. I open my mouth to gasp, but he stops me by biting my bottom lip.
"Shhh, Princess," he whispers. "Can't be too loud. Don't want your friend to know what's going on, do we?"
"Ethan, I..." I kiss him again, but then I stop, breathing heavy into his ear. "Please don't flirt with another girl this week? Please? I know I shouldn't ask you that. I know it's not within... within..."
Me. His fingers are in me. They're all I can think about right now. I just... I only want them in me. I don't want to think about them being in someone else. I just don't. I know that's irrational and wrong, but I want this to be us, to be enjoyable to the both of us, and I want him to flirt with me. I want him to touch me. I want him to...
I want him to fuck me. To make love to me. To take me, hard. To be soft. Gentle. Careful. To love and hold and handle roughly and...
"You got it, baby girl," he says. "Just for yo
u. I promise."
"It's only for a week," I say, gasping out the words.
"That's the only reason I'm agreeing to it," he says, smirking.
And then, as quick as that, he pulls his fingers out of me, then smacks my ass. The noise echoes through the room. It's loud! I wouldn't be surprised if...
Yup, she heard it.
"Is everything alright in there?" Julia says. "I heard a noise, and—"
She tries to open the door, but it's locked. The doorknob rattles ineffectively, and I know she can't get in, but I still scramble up and off Ethan's lap. Or, I try to. He squeezes me tight, pulls me back close, and sinks his teeth into my neck, nibbling.
"Fuck, I wish you hadn't told her to come over here today," he says. "Why'd you have to do that, Princess?"
"I didn't know," I say, groaning and grinding against him, my crotch finding a delightful spot to press against his hip. "I wouldn't have if..."
"Damn fucking right you wouldn't have," he growls. "You go out and have fun now, but don't forget to think of what's going to happen to you when you get back home."
"What's going to happen?" I ask, both coy and curious. I have a good idea, but...
He flips me off of him and pushes me against the bed, pinning me there with his knee between my legs, keeping them open.
"Hey, um... guys? Is everything alright?" Julia asks.
"Fine," Ethan says, growling at the door. "Go get a glass of fucking milk in the kitchen or something. We're having a serious conversation here."
"Um... sure... sorry..."
I almost laugh, but Ethan stops me by pressing a finger to my lips. And that's not my mouth I'm talking about. He presses a finger past my panties, then to my pussy, then inside me, and...
Curls it. Um... wow, what was that? I just... I felt...
Holy fuck! He does it again, hooking... me? I don't even know what this is. There's something oddly magical going on inside my body and I can't even begin to explain how amazing this is. Intense sensation floods my entire being, my whole state of existence.