“Yup,” says Dan, holding up his hand against the blinding light.
“Sorry,” says the officer, lowering the light. “Man, I can’t believe that’s you, Dan. You used to kill it on the field at Randolph High. You’re playing for Cratemore, now, right?”
“That’s right, sir. Starting linebacker.”
It turns out the police officer is a huge football fan, and he’s been following Dan since his freshman year at Randolph High. And he’s a huge college sports fanatic, and watches every one of Cratemore’s games.
“I know you all are going to make it to the championship this year,” says the officer.
“I sure hope so,” says Dan, looking impossibly cute, impossibly hot as he says it.
The red and blue siren lights of the cop car are still flashing, and I’m still feeling anxious.
But, without even checking our papers, the officer bids us a good night, and tells us to be more careful next time.
“Give ‘em hell in the next game,” he says, waving at us jovially, before turning to his police car.
“Nice guy,” says Dan, getting back into the car.
“I thought he was going to arrest us for sure,” I say.
“Nah,” says Dan.
With the anxiety fading, my desire for Dan returns, and it returns strong. I want his lips to be on mine again, and I want his hands on me. I want him.
But I figure we can’t exactly sit here in the car. The officer was nice, but he’s clearly waiting for us to leave the deserted park, so I crank the engine and drive slowly towards home.
I don’t know where to go. Will it seem like I want Dan too much if I pull over the car and just start making out with him again? The spontaneity of the park moment is long gone, and I just can’t figure out the strategy of it this time… How did Dan make it seem so casual?
“Well,” I say awkwardly as I pull up to Dan’s house. “Here we are.”
I look over at Dan and he’s staring at me and grinning.
“You want to come in?” he says.
“Oh,” I say, conscious that I want to come in more than anything in the world. “But what about your parents?”
But that makes me sound like I want him! I think to myself, nearly screaming at myself in my head.
Dan chuckles. “They’re asleep,” he says.
I’m going to do it, I think to myself. I’m going to go in, and I can barely wait until I wrap my fingers around his hard, naked cock. I can almost see it before me, massive and hard in my imagination.
I stare ahead of me, out the windshield, looking at the cold white glow from the streetlights.
Suddenly, I remember I need to get home. My dad’s going to be needing his medication before he goes to bed. Shit, it’s always something.
“Sorry,” I say. “I really would like to, but my dad… I need to get home…”
“Oh,” says Dan. “That’s OK. I understand. It must be really hard for you, with him being sick and all…”
I nod my head stiffly.
“Well,” says Dan. “I’m not heading back to school for another few days. Want to hang out tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Great,” says Dan, kissing me again full on the lips.
We almost fall into another intense make out session, but I force myself to pull away from him, saying I’ve really got to get going.
Dan winks at me as he gets out of the car, and I watch him jogging lightly up to his parents’ house.
I drive back in silence to my dad’s house, where I sit in the car in the driveway, thinking about tonight, and, honestly, dreading the moment I have to go in and see my dad. Each day, his illness gets more severe and harder to take. It’s just hard seeing him deteriorate like this right before my eyes, no matter what I do.
Dan
I went to sleep with my cock rock hard, and I wake up with it absolutely straining against the sheets.
I can’t stop thinking about her. All last night I thought about her, the way her body looked and felt. I can almost still taste her lips on mine, the memory still fresh and delicious.
I never noticed her before, honestly. But now that I’ve come back from college, she’s grown curves like nothing else. She’s a woman now, a real woman, the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Just thinking about her drives me completely wild.
I close my eyes and picture the curve of her breasts, and the way her thighs looked sitting in the driver’s seat. I picture her ass as she had her back facing me, talking to the cop.
My hand is moving along my cock, slowly at first, and now rapidly. My breathing is getting faster.
In my mind’s eye, Chloe and I are all alone in the middle of the football field (yeah, yeah, I know, I know), and there’s no one else around. It’s the middle of the night, and she faces me and gives me a shy but seductive look, beckoning me forward.
My imagination goes rampant now. In my waking-dream, Chloe pulls off her top and her breasts pop out.
My cock is raging hard against my hand. My hand’s moving fast now, in a blur, as my imagination runs wild with the image of Chloe.
My whole body tenses and my breathing is ragged. I come, my cock exploding into the tissue paper.
I head downstairs to the kitchen and pour myself a couple glasses of milk to go along with some cereal. Coach recommends that I drink up to two quarts of milk a day, to get stronger, to help me bulk up.
Tossing the dishes into the sink, I head into the hallway, towards the front door. I’ve got a hankering, as my dad would say if he was hungry, to see Chloe. Doesn’t matter to me if it’s morning.
“I’m going for a walk,” I call out, already putting on my coat.
“Where to?” says my mom, appearing from the living room, holding a thick book she was reading.
“I thought I’d see if I could help Mr. Parsons with something,” I say. “Just last night he was talking about needing some help with the attic.”
“You don’t fool me one bit, Dan,” she says, peering at me over her reading glasses. “You don’t care about his attic.”
“But I want to help him,” I say.
“Only because you’re… interested in Chloe. I saw the way you were looking at her yesterday during Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What’s the problem?” I say.
“She’s a nice girl, Dan,” says my mom. “Don’t mess with her head. You’re going back to college.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I say, heading out the door.
Chloe’s house is only a couple houses down. It’s funny I didn’t see her much in high school, but then again I was always running off with the football team, driving around chasing the cheerleaders and girls from the nearby private schools.
The wind has a chill to it and the dead leaves are blowing through the streets.
Chloe’s dad’s house was once a fancy Victorian, common in this part of Pennsylvania, but it’s since fallen into a state of disrepair. Ever since Chloe’s mom died, and her dad got sick, the house hasn’t been a priority.
Chloe appears at her door almost as soon as I ring it.
“Hey,” she says, shyly grinning at me. She’s peeking around the door, holding it open just a crack, but I can still see that she’s wearing some gym shorts that she probably slept in and a halter-top. I can see more of her skin than I could yesterday or last night—after all, it’s cold out.
“Hey there,” I say.
She stares at me, and giggling a little.
I can’t help but grinning at her. Are we both thinking the same thing?
“You going to let me in?” I say.
“I have to get changed,” she says, making as if to close the door.
“You’re not going to close it in my face, are you?” I say.
“Of course not,” she says, after a pause.
She lets me in and I can’t keep my eyes off her. Her legs shine and her skin is smooth and silky looking. I can’t wait to touch it again.
I’m halfway toward
s her, headed for an embrace, when her dad appears.
“Hi, Mr. Parsons,” I say. “I was just coming over to see if you needed any help around the house.”
Chloe gives me a look that clearly says, “I know what you’re up to, and my dad’s not going to buy your bullshit either.”
Chloe’s dad just grunts and heads back into the kitchen, beckoning me to follow him.
“How you feeling today?” I say, trying to make conversation as he stands in the kitchen silently, staring at me. He’s got a way of unnerving me, as if he knows exactly why I’m here.
He just grunts. “Pipe is clogged in here,” he says. “You think you can get it working again?”
“No problem at all,” I say, figuring I can just pour some scum-dissolving liquid down there and that’ll be the end of it.
He grunts again and retreats into the TV room.
Two hours later, I’m sitting in a tangle of greasy wrenches and piping that I don’t have any idea how I can fit it back together again.
Chloe flitters in and out of the kitchen, having changed into less revealing, but equally sexy clothing. She brings me glasses of water from the other sink and gives me apologetic looks, finally saying, “You never should have agreed to help. This is the sink that’s already confounded five professional plumbers. No one knows what’s wrong with it.”
“Well I’m going to figure it out,” I say, aware of my own idiotic stubbornness. But stubbornness is what got me ahead in football. Stubbornness can do a lot for you, if you let it work for you.
“Come here,” she says, pulling me towards her.
She was so shy last night that this surprises me. I feel her body against mine, hot and soft.
I kiss her, our mouths connecting. It feels fantastic.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” she says. “Let’s go to the park.”
I laugh. “You really want me, don’t you?” I say. I can’t help it. This is just the way I talk to women. They usually love it.
She blushes deeply in her beautiful face. “OK,” she says.
But we both look around the kitchen, with the greasy pipes spread out on crumpled newspapers.
“I guess I should at least put this back the way it was,” I say.
Another half an hour goes by, and then another, and pretty soon it’s almost dark again. The sun is fading in the sky, but inexplicably I’ve somehow figured out how to get the pipes working again. They must have had some horrible plumbers in here, I think to myself.
Mr. Parsons grunts when I tell him the good news. Chloe is feeding him his medicine by the spoonful, some kind of thick, nasty smelling syrup.
“We were going to head out for a while, is that OK, Dad?” says Chloe.
“You don’t have work?” he grunts.
“I have the week off for Thanksgiving, remember?”
“Where do you work?” I say. I didn’t know she was working.
“At the movie theater,” she says, shyly, as if she’s embarrassed.
“Hope you get to at least see a lot of free movies,” I say, and Mr. Parsons gives me a disapproving look before turning back to the TV.
He doesn’t look good. His eyes are sunken and there are huge bags under his eyes. His hair is greasy, and his clothes are worn. I’m not sure if it’s because of poverty or his diminished energy levels from the disease.
“What does your dad have, again?” I say, as we head out the door to Chloe’s old car.
“Kidney cancer,” says Chloe.
“That’s treatable, right?” I say.
“Yeah,” says Chloe, cranking the engine. For a moment, it doesn’t sound like it’s going to turn over, but it finally does. I know her dad hasn’t been working for the last two years, and that it’s been very hard on them financially. No doubt, they don’t have any money for a new car.
“So that’s good, right? He’s going to get better, then?”
“He’s already missing one kidney,” says Chloe. “He donated it to my mom when she was sick. So the doctors say he doesn’t have much of a chance. In fact, they don’t give him any odds at all.”
“Oh,” I say, realizing it’s a dumb thing to say. I just don’t know what to say.
The atmosphere in the car feels heavy, depressed, and sad.
“Let’s drive around for a little,” says Chloe.
Despite the news she just told me, I can’t help but staring at her, admiring every aspect of her. I look at the slope of her breasts, sure, but also the way her face turns, the way the autumn light glints off it.
“You’re really beautiful,” I say.
She doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, I’m worried. This is unlike me, I think to myself. There must be something different about her. With other girls, I don’t worry about what they think about me, whether or not they like me. I just know they like me.
But with Chloe… something feels more important, something feels different.
Did I offend her by telling her she’s beautiful right after she told me her dad is dying?
Chloe pulls the car over to the side of the road. There are some oak trees that line this road that still have their dead leaves, but they look beautiful with the way the sun hits them. Not nearly as beautiful as Chloe herself now.
But her silence worries me. Is she going to tell me to get out of the car?
I don’t know how to read her. She’s so ephemeral, so… mysterious in a way that I’ve never encountered before.
Chloe turns off the engine and now she turns to me.
To my surprise, she leans in and starts kissing me, full on make out level.
I kiss her back, of course. Her hands are all over me, feeling my big muscles. I’ve got my hands up her shirt, caressing her breasts over the top of her bra. A second later, I’ve got the bra unbuckled—I’m quite practiced in this, to say the least.
Normally, I’d take it slow, but she’s going strong already.
Her hand brushes up against my crotch, coming into brief contact with my cock that’s rock hard and erect. It doesn’t matter that I masturbated this morning, jerking off to her. Just the sight of her gets me so hard I think my cock might burst through my jeans.
This is such a change from how shy she was last night.
But, yup, she’s still Chloe, hot and sexy Chloe, the new Chloe with curves all over that drive me insane.
“Let me see it,” she says, breathless, her breasts rising and falling.
“What?” I say, a twinkle undoubtedly in my eyes.
“Your cock,” she says, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Here?” I say, looking around the empty street. But it’s still a residential street. There aren’t a lot of houses, but there are some.
“I’ve got the famous womanizing linebacker worried?” she says, giggling. “Aren’t you supposed to be fearless?”
“You’re supposed to be the shy one,” I mutter.
She’s reaching towards my cock and my belt buckle falls away with a minor clattering sound. She’s unzipping my jeans and my cock jumps out, hard as a rock.
She stares at it for a moment, wide eyed.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, breathless.
I’ve forgotten all about where we are, that we’re out on the street in her car. I’ve forgotten all her family problems, and I’ve forgotten that I’m headed back to college in a couple days, while she has to stay here rotting in this town, working at the movie theater, some dead end job, taking care of her dying dad. What does her future hold for her?
All I can concentrate on now is how hot she is, how hot her reaction to my cock is.
Her hands are on my cock, her fingers wrapping around it, and it feels just too good.
She unbuckles herself, the belt falling away from her, letting her breasts free.
As she leans over me, her breasts push up against my knees, and she takes my thick cock in her beautiful mouth. She tightens her lips around me, and I gasp despite myself.
Chloe
&nb
sp; His cock is so hard, so thick, so long. It completely fills my mouth. It has a salty, delicious taste. I never thought I’d like the taste of cock. I’ve had sex before, but I’ve never had a cock in my mouth. Never before have I actually wanted it. But now I have this overwhelming desire in my body that just drives me towards his cock like a magnet, like nothing else in the world, like some incredible universal force.
“Oh yeah, Chloe,” grunts Dan. “You’re so hot, Chloe.”
I don’t know what happened to me, but today the shyness faded away from me, replaced only with lust, with serious desire for Dan and his hard muscular body and his thick cock.
My hand is around the base of his cock, and the rest is in my mouth. I’m bobbing my head up and down, my hair falling around him. My other hand is resting on his naked thigh, feeling his strong sinewy muscles there, so massive and so hot.
“Shit,” says Dan suddenly, sounding worried. “Chloe, Chloe.” He taps me on the shoulder and I reluctantly pull my head off his cock.
With a furiously fast motion, Dan is zipping up his pants, stowing his massive cock away with some difficulty, since it’s still rock hard.
“What is it?” I say, scanning the road through the windows.
Then I see it. It’s a car driving slowly towards us.
“Shit,” I say, suddenly my shyness and worry coming back to me.
“It’s OK,” says Dan, in a soothing voice. “It’s not the cops, and anyway they all like me, I think.”
The car gets closer and closer, driving slower and slower, but I still can’t see who the driver is and whether or not they’re looking at us.
“Shit,” says Dan, suddenly. “I recognize that car. It’s Mr. Bach.”
Oh shit, I think to myself. Mr. Bach was the strictest teacher at our high school.
“He always hated me,” says Dan.
The car is an ancient wood-paneled station wagon. It stops right at my car, the driver’s window rolling down.
Mr. Bach’s ancient mean head, with his pepper grey hair, sticks out of his windows.
“Don’t think I’m an idiot,” he says. I remember in high school he was always saying that. “Don’t think I don’t know what you two are up to.”
Her Boss: A Billionaire and Virgin Romance Page 17