Driven To Tears (The Darby Trilogy Book 1)

by Jason Jauron

  A blowjob?

  He checked the mirrors.

  There’s too much traffic. And it’s sunny out. I mean, everyone will see.

  As she slid over, Jed was busy in the driver’s seat doing his best impersonation of Pavlov’s dog.

  Patty takes off her shirt.

  Jed drools.

  Patty unbuttons her shorts.

  Jed drools.

  Jed drools because he knows a reward is coming. He has been conditioned.

  Make Patty happy.

  Get a reward.

  Reward is good.

  He shot a glance. She was putting her hair into a ponytail.

  Holy shit.

  Reward is good.

  Reward is very, very good.

  They were cruising down the highway, only 30 minutes from her father’s house, when Patty started talking dirty.

  “I’m going to suck your cock hard Jed” she announced. Her left hand slid down his shorts and wrapped itself around his stiff penis.

  “I want your dick in my mouth Jed.”

  Me want that too.

  He was trying hard to keep a straight face. He didn’t want to let Patty know just how fucking excited he was.

  She is the perfect lover. I mean. I never have to ask her. She just seems to know what I want more often than not. She always just takes control of the situation. She’s the aggressive one. I wish I could say the same about myself.

  He adjusted his seat as far back as it would go.

  His body tensed as her mouth slid down his shaft.

  Not that I don’t return the favor. This boy ain’t afraid to mow the carpet. This boy ain’t afraid to let his tongue do the talking.

  She popped her head up and teased, “Do you want me to continue?”

  Jed nodded.

  Her efforts produced a smooth cadence; Jed reveled in his decadence.

  When she stopped to play with his balls, she got a surprise.

  “This is a nice change,” she blurted, before kissing the base of his shaft. “I like the new look.”

  He decided to try it after watching a porno a couple of days ago. Patty had fallen asleep; he was fucking bored. The girls in the movie seemed to prefer the trimmed look.

  Patty stopped again. She lifted her head a few inches above his good wood and brushed her hair back and forth.

  The feeling of her soft golden curls against his crotch about made him cum.

  She noticed.

  Went balls deep.

  Two minutes later it was over.

  Patty sat up, put her shirt on.

  “Now you won’t be so uptight.”

  You got that the fuck right.

  He slumped in his seat, grinned.

  33.

  They were about 10 minutes from her home when Jed started visualizing the possible greetings he could use on Daddy Dearest. Here are his three finalists:

  #1 The Irish Greeting

  “Hello Mr. McGuire. Nice of you to come greet us before we went about our business of slave laboring about the fine estate on such a muggy day. I know. I know. Only the rich can afford compassion. I understand. Make hay while the sun shines and all. Don’t like it that we don’t come round as often. You know. Constant company wears out its welcome. We both be off now. But remember. Not a jolly good idea to turn your back on me though, my good man, for I do intend to kill ya for ye horrible crimes committed against me Patty-Sue.”

  #2 The Australian Greeting

  “Hello mate, how ‘bout a pint for me and me dame before we go tan our asses working in your fields. A couple pints? Bloody ripper! Not a good idea to turn yer yella back to me in this boozer for I reckon to open up a can of brumby and leave yer bloody carcass down by the river for the crocks to devour mate.”

  #3 The American Dirty Harry Greeting

  “Hello, maggot breath. I suppose you are wondering why I got this gun pointed at you this fine morning.” Short pause. “Well friend, you gotta ask yourself – do you feel lucky? Maybe I didn’t load the gun, maybe I don’t even have the balls to fire this 44 Magnum and blow your head clean fucking off. It’s up to you. Go ahead dirty bastard, step towards me. Make my fucking day.”

  But nothing from his imagination would become a real-life dramatization.

  When they pulled into the rocky drive, Jed could see the note taped to the front door.

  Her father’s message was short. He was shopping in the big city. All the supplies we would need were in the garage and several ladders had already been moved for us.

  His confrontation with her father would have to wait.

  Jed felt relief wash over him.

  It was probably better this way.

  He looked at Patty. She was disappointed. Her day of vindication would have to wait.

  He walked back to the car, downed the rest of his Mountain Dew, and grabbed what little tools they had brought.

  Fuck.

  I wish I were handier with this shit.

  “Get over here and start making out with me Jed,” teased Patty.

  She was leaning against the door of the old shed.

  Seconds later, she was in his arms.

  “Love is fun, love is crazy…

  “Love is a drug, makes everything hazy…

  “Love is powerful, has many effects…

  “But the best part of love, is the sex”

  Dave Taylor, 1986

  Jed picked Patty up, put her on his shoulders, and marched into the shed.

  He spun her around, set her down, kissed her, and commented, “You know this shed looks more like a small barn.”

  She just shrugged. “We just have to paint the outside. It won’t take us long.”

  **10 minutes later**

  “This could take us forever,” panted Jed, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Ten minutes of being on a ladder had wiped him out.

  He was bored.

  He was hot.

  And just who the fuck would paint a shed white?

  He took his shirt off and threw it at Patty, who was on a ladder a few feet from him.

  Patty turned, giggled.

  “Oh, you’re just so big, strong, and handsome!” she teased.

  Her impersonation sounded to Jed like some crazy 45 year-old Southern belle who had just glimpsed the ghost of Elvis.

  “You must just drive all the young ladies on campus into fits of hysteria,” she continued, exaggerating the point by smacking her forehead with the back of her right hand.

  Then she decided to have some fun.

  “I think I’m as big and burly as you are, so I think I’ll take my shirt off too, pilgrim,” she said, switching to her John Wayne impersonation.

  Once again, the pink push-up bra created a bulge in Jed’s pants.

  He climbed down his ladder.

  “Just where the hell do you think you are going?”

  “Come down here and you’ll see little miss smarty-pants,” he teased, sticking his tongue out at her.

  “Oh, you are going to get it now Jed Darby,” she hollered. Patty was having fun. She was relaxed, her guard down.

  I owe so much to Jed. He truly loves me, and for the first time in my life, I feel fine. Not dirty, or contaminated. I feel fine. Even pretty. And I’m not going to screw this up. No more running from love. No more sabotage. No more self harm. No more any of that. I like who I am.

  She jumped off her ladder, entered the shed.

  It took her several seconds to find him.

  Jed was standing near her father’s old Caprice Classic.

  What the hell is Jed doing?

  She stomped over.

  Jed leaned against the hood, his shirt in his hand.

  “Okay, what the hell are you up to MacGyver?”

  Jed smiled.

  She just can’t let the MacGyver thing go, can she?

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “I want to do something?”

  She took a long look at Jed, and after seeing what see thought it was she needed to see, she
closed her eyes.

  Jed used his shirt as a blindfold. As he slowly, gently, wrapped and tied it over her eyes, Patty became instantly aroused.

  Oh my God! I hope this means what it means. I mean. It has to mean this right? I can’t believe this. Wow. Jed is a meat-n-potatoes man. No fancy stuff. No creativity. But this! Wow. I hope he plans to.

  He slipped his hands under her armpits, lifted her onto the hood of the car and set her down.

  “Lie back,” he mumbled.

  Patty felt her nipples harden as she slowly, carefully laid back.

  Take your time Jed. Take your time. Explore my body. Do it slowly. Touch me in a different way Jed. Please. I love you. I trust you.

  Jed bit his tongue.

  She’s so damn sexy.

  What the hell do I do now?

  He leaned over, kissed her.

  Now what? I mean. I have her right where I want her. Right? She’s blindfolded, laying on her back on the hood of some cheap car.

  He sighed.

  Fuck. Come on Jed. You’ve seen this scene in all those Skinemax shows. Just rip off her panties and hammer her like chopped liver.

  “Patty, you know I love you don’t you?”

  She smiled.

  “Yes I do.”

  She slid back a little until her head rested on the front windshield.

  “I love you too Jed. And I trust you.”

  Just fucking great. She knows what I’m up to. And she’s excited. Fuck.

  His eyes were locked on her Daisy Duke shorts.

  You gotta fucking lick the pussy Jed. You gotta. Make her cum with your tongue Jed. But slow down. Stop trying to be the fastest tongue in the west. Slow down. Tease her.

  He nodded.

  It wasn’t as if he had never spent time down there. He was starting to think of Patty’s pussy as his first timeshare. He had visited the place lots of times, but his cognitive map looked like a bad etch-a-sketch. Mostly because each visit he was either drunk or it was late, completely dark, and he was under the covers pretending his tongue was the key to the lock on his timeshare. He just wanted to get the front door open as soon as possible.

  But Jed had a feeling he was not as good “down there” on her as she was “down there” on him. But it wasn’t due to a lack of effort. Jed’s tongue was blue-collar.

  But for the most part, his lack of consistent success “down there” never became a source of stress.

  Why?

  He was a boy.

  And boys were the primary beneficiaries of the double standard. Boys were not responsible for giving sexual pleasure; boys were to receive sexual pleasure.

  Duh.

  Young women had this notion reinforced time and time again via books, movies, and magazines. There were never enough articles it seemed for young women to read and internalize when it came to pleasing a man in bed, or how to spice up the bedroom with dirty talk.

  Magazines covers became the perfect outlet for the media to create and churn out a generation of identical women. They all must be blond, skinny, implanted, botoxed, airbrushed, and easy.

  Andy Warhol would have been proud.

  Don’t forget Victoria’s Secret.

  Think of the numerous demeaning, degrading outfits women have donned for the sole purpose of arousing their bald, beer-belly husband with all that Chewbacca back hair.

  And movies like Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Porky’s urged young girls to practice, practice, practice sucking good dick.

  And sucking good dick meant a young woman, hair in a ponytail, outfitted in a Victoria’s Secret padded bra and thong, on her knees in front of her man, who was standing upright, with the lights on.

  He got to watch the whole thing.

  Talk about a power play.

  The fucking lights were on. She better not spill any of his cum on the carpet or there would be hell to pay.

  Dudes, on the other hand, had a choice.

  Top bunk or bottom bunk?

  And men chose the obvious red herring.

  Which happened to be the top bunk.

  And the top bunk was above the waist.

  Breasts.

  Titties.

  Knockers.

  Racks.

  Jugs.

  They were fun.

  Breasts were squeezy.

  Sucking tits was easy whether the lights were on or off. Sucking tits was not demeaning.

  In fact, fellas liked to roughhouse them tits a little. Fuck’em occasionally.

  Jed enjoyed the dharma of the boy caste.

  But Patty deserved reciprocation.

  But you gotta slow down. You are always too eager. Too eager for intercourse. Give her some foreplay. You gotta prime the pump Jed. Her engine does not warm up as fast as yours. So take your fucking time.

  He climbed up on the front bumper, leaned over, and kissed her again. This time he slowed down. Deliberately rubbing his tongue against hers in slow motion. The kiss lasted nearly a minute. He couldn’t believe it.

  The kiss even turned him on.

  He kissed her again. He slowed down even more. This time he ran his fingers through her hair.

  A third kiss.

  My pussy is so fucking wet Jed. Just lick my pussy. I’m so wet.

  He pulled away from her, whispered, “Why the hell are your shorts still on?”

  As he unbuttoned her shorts, Patty’s clitoris rumbled like an active volcano.

  He dropped her Daisy Dukes on the floor, stared at the pink boyshorts.

  He leaned over Patty. Stuck his mouth next to her left ear.

  “Do you want me to lick your pussy Patty?” he breathed.

  Take off the fucking underwear Jed. I don’t want any more slow-motion bullshit. I want your tongue on my pussy. I have a feeling my clit looks like Ayres Rock. You will have no problems finding it.

  He started gently sliding his hands back and forth across her inner thighs, over her boyshorts.

  He delicately kissed her bellybutton – his tongue slowly traced the rim.

  Patty arched her back slightly, squirmed.

  Jed enjoyed a long look at his love, and then he put his “game face” on.

  Her pink boyshorts slid off her smooth legs with such ease that he thought for a moment that her legs must be buttered.

  The he saw it.

  He became momentarily hypnotized with it.

  The narrow shaved line of blond pubic hair.

  Hair that led to her naughty.

  And it was naughty as naughty can be.

  She looks fresh as a daisy down there. It’s time to turn the tables.

  He began by letting his shoulder length light brown hair fall into her lap, across her sweet spot.

  He then used his locks to slowly caress the area.

  Patty moaned, twisted her body.

  My clit is so fucking hard, and I’m so fucking wet. Hurry Jed. I am going to explode, and I’d like to cum all over your face.

  Patty’s back arched.

  Jed’s tongue was doing the walking.

  Holy shit it’s wet down here. Like a fucking water slide.

  After nearly a minute, he stopped, gently pulled her apart.

  He grinned.

  Whoops there it is.

  The clitoris.

  A gentle lick.

  Patty flopped on the hood like a fish caught on dry land.

  Two more slow-as-hell licks.

  Her body jerked as if jolted by a defibrillator.

  Jed counted to three.

  He then started sucking on her clit while gently massaging it with his tongue.

  Patty started cooing.

  Jed picked up the pace.

  Patty’s face appeared pulled, tense.

  She was breathing in bursts.

  Jed decided to put the pedal to the metal.

  Then all the noise stopped.

  She had lost her breath.

  Her hips were bucking him, but Jed’s mouth would maintain contact with her clit for the full
eight seconds.

  She came several moments later.

  It finally happened. It was long overdue.

  Her lover went down. Felt it was the right thing to do.

  She moaned and she groaned. She flipped and she flopped.

  His tongue was fast and furious. It couldn’t be stopped.

  He could feel her body tense. It arched up to the sky.

  She cried out in joy, he mused, not bad for a Catholic guy.

  Patty leaned up, took off the blindfold.

  She gave him the bear hug to end all bear hugs.

  They kissed for a few moments before Jed suggested she put her clothes on. After all they had a job to finish.

  Just watching her put her clothes back on made him hard.

  She embraced him again; Jed could feel her heart beating and noticed her legs were a little wobbly. But there was love in her heart, and a young man offering her a fresh start.

  He offered to go grab them some drinks. As he walked to the car, he looked like the cat that ate the canary.

  For lunch, they dined at a local family restaurant. They giggled, they whispered, and they caressed. They acted like a couple on their honeymoon.

  When they got back, they finished quick and packed even quicker. They both wanted to fuck the shit out of the other, and their bedroom was many miles away.

  “Give me a minute to double check that we got everything,” she said, running back toward the shed. It was late afternoon.

  Jed got hard watching her run. Those damn shorts were the devil’s work.

  She opened the door, peered around. Her legs, her naughty, still felt tingly. Yet she’d never felt so alive. So comfortable, confident in her own skin. As though with each new step she was erasing memories of her abusive past.

  As she did her walk through, a grin lit up her face like a neon sign.

  Jed gets an A for the day. He certainly brought out the woman in me. Finally.

  She stopped, turned around.

  She sensed something.

  Suddenly the shed seemed small, scary.

  YOU’RE JUST A HOLE FOR A DICK LITTLE PATTY.

  Hearing her father’s voice covered her arms in goose pimples.

  “You’re wrong dad,” she muttered. “I’m no hole. And I’m not a little girl either.”

  Patty was shaking.