by Susan Renee
I’m really regretting choosing these jeans right about now. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard before in my life. Well, okay that’s a lie. The tits I see on Showtime can get me pretty hard but oh, my God, there is nothing like a girl pushing her chest toward me, just begging to be touched, to make my dick feel like a steel pipe. I’m hesitant to touch her breasts without consent, so I consciously only move my hand down around her neck and over her shoulders to the sides of her body.
“It’s okay Jack,” Emily whispers as she tilts her head to the opposite side to continue kissing me. “I picked out this bra especially for you. Do you want to see it?”
“Ye-yes.” I answer perhaps a little too hastily. “I mean, if you want to show it to me.”
“It’s pink,” she says.
“I love pink.” I don’t even know what I’m saying, nor do I care because right now her tongue is in my mouth and she’s about to show me her bra…where her tits are. She sits back, watching me as she unbuttons two more buttons of her shirt. Her face is flushed and her breathing is heavy. I can see most of her bra now. She was right. It’s pink with white lace around the edges. I swallow hard because what I want to do is reach out and grab her tits and hold them for dear life, but I’m not sure that’s what she wants.
“It’s beautiful, Emily,” I choke out before clearing my throat. “Your…”
I can’t call them tits. That’s not nice.
“Your breasts are…so pretty.”
“They would be prettier in your hands,” she replies. “Don’t you want to touch them?”
I nod quickly, like a lame little boy in a candy shop. “Very much.” Emily stands up from the couch and for a minute my eyes grow large because I think she’s about to take me to her bedroom, but she doesn’t. Instead she straddles my legs and sits on my lap facing me, so that her beautiful breasts, in her beautiful bra, are staring right at me. She grabs my hands and places them on each of her breasts.
Good God, I’m hard, and she’s sitting right on me.
There is a girl on my dick.
There is a vagina on my dick. Well, okay maybe with four degrees of separation between us, but still. I’ve never had a vagina this close to my dick before. It’s making me feel very…sweaty.
“Emily…” I whisper.
“Mmm,” she responds. “I like that, Jack. Your hands feel good.”
Oh, my God.
“Emily…” I say a little harder, wincing as she starts to move against me.
Humping.
We’re humping.
Our clothes are still on but holy hell she’s humping me and I can’t…
“Emily…”
“Yes Jack! Squeeze them a little. It’s okay. They won’t break. Squeeze them right in the middle.” She starts to move faster on me and it’s all I can do to not lose control of myself. I close my eyes and hold my breath in hopes that I can do this, but I…just…can’t.
“Hmmmph….” The sound comes from me as I push my pelvis forward more out of reflex than anything else.
Good God, I just came in my pants.
Do I tell her?
Does she know?
“Emily, baby! We’re home!” The front door opens and closes and like the Flash, Emily is off me and across the room before I can even let out my breath. She hastily rebuttons her shirt and fixes her hair like nothing happened. Shit. I have jizz in my pants and I have to make conversation with Emily’s parents, but she can act like nothing fucking happened? I can’t even move off the couch for fear that hot sticky goop is going to run down my leg or even worse, create an extreme wet spot that will reveal all of my secrets.
Maybe I should just stay here and put a pillow over my lap.
That’s stupid, Schmidt. Her dad would see that a mile away.
Maybe I could make it to the restroom before they come up the steps. I lean back on the couch and try to quickly calculate how fast I could run to the bathroom without them noticing me.
Don’t even think about it, Jack. They’ll definitely notice.
“Untuck your shirt.” Emily whispers from across the room. She waves the bottom of her shirt to me to show me what she’s saying in case I couldn’t hear her.
She knows.
She knows I came in my pants and there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I don’t know why I didn’t think about untucking my shirt, but right now I’m singing Emily’s praises for showing me a way out. As her parents are climbing the stairs I shoot off the couch and rip my shirt from the waistband of my jeans and smooth it out over the front of me just as her parents reach the last step on the landing.
“Hey, Jack!” Mr. Wittmer exclaims. “It’s so good to see you again!” He reaches his hand forward to shake mine.
I’m shaking the hand of Emily’s father and I have jizz in my pants.
“Likewise, Sir,” I respond. “Did you guys have a good evening?”
It’s warm in my crotch.
“Oh, it was splendid!” Mrs. Wittmer replies, smiling. “Those Malloys definitely know how to throw a benefit dinner. Oh, and the food! I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good.”
“I don’t know.” Mr. Wittmer shrugs. “My rice was a little sticky.” He turns to wink at me and I damn near choke.
Because my pants are a little sticky.
“Mom, Dad, Jack was just getting ready to leave. He has to be home by ten forty-five and I don’t want him to have to speed.” Emily comes to my rescue as she walks up beside me.
“Oh. Absolutely. We wouldn’t want that either.” Mrs. Wittmer agrees. “It was great to see you, Jack. Do come again.”
Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.
“Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Wittmer. I promise to be careful. I’m glad you had a good evening.” I turn towards the door, blowing out a huge breath of air once I’m out of their eyesight. Emily follows me down the steps – hopefully hiding the fact that I’m semi waddling because, Jizz-pants - and to the front door. I turn quickly and kiss her cheek. “Thanks for tonight.” I tell her.
“Thanks for coming.” She bites her lip, knowing all too well what she just said.
“For you? Any time,” I confirm. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” As I head for my car Emily calls my name again.
“Hey Jack?”
I stop next to my car. “Yeah?”
“Sorry about the mess.” She whispers loudly enough for me to hear her, winks and blows me a kiss before waving goodbye and backing up through her front door. All I can do is laugh and shake my head at the absurdity that was my first semi-sexual experience.
Little did I know at the time, that this was how it would always be with Emily. She was only ever into dry-humping…which for me, was anything but dry.
2016
“Yeah no way am I telling her that one.” I mumble shaking my head at one of my most embarrassing high school memories.
Jax: When I was in college, we had a well-known politician give a speech to our poli-sci class. I thought he was a douche and hated everything he stood for. So, at the end of the class we all lined up to shake his hand and thank him for coming. I made sure to lick the hell out of my hand first.
* * *
NoRagrets: Ha! Well I guess you have a bad-boy side to you after all! No Ragrets huh?
* * *
Jax: Not even one! Tit for tat, pretty lady. What do you have to say for yourself?
* * *
NoRagrets: Middle school gym class fitness test. I wasn’t in the best of shape but we were doing sit-ups with a partner holding our feet. Because I wasn’t very good at them, I was really straining to do those sit ups. On my third one I totally farted right in my partner’s face. Luckily, she was a nice girl and laughed it off, but I will never forget how mortified I was.
* * *
Jax: That’s fantastic!
* * *
NoRagrets: Here’s a fun fact, did you know people who are comfortable farting in front of one another will have a longer-lasting relationship?
She was right. Completely unfiltered. I like it. Please tell me that she’s telling me this because she’s interested in a nice lengthy relationship. She’s a breath of fresh air for once. Down to earth and normal. I would love to get to know this girl.
Jax: Is that a threat, or a promise?
* * *
NoRagrets: Haha! I guess we’ll see. So, is your name Jax or do you have a different name?
* * *
Jax: Jack. My name is Jack.
* * *
NoRagrets: It’s nice to meet you, Jack. My name is Linda.
Chapter Five
Jack
When I was working my way through law school, I had visions of myself being the prosecutor of a major trial one day: standing in front of a witness and hearing “You can’t handle the truth!” just like we hear it in the movies, or on our favorite courtroom television shows. Maybe that dream would’ve become a reality had I taken the offers I received from New York City, but here in Mystic, Connecticut, my days are filled with enough work to keep me busy from sun up to sun down, and often drain me emotionally by the end of the day. Child Advocacy law is a hard job. I chose that type of law to be a voice for kids like me who never had one growing up. Many days I speak for a child who is the ‘monkey in the middle’ of a bitter custody dispute. It’s my job to make sure those defenseless children get treated fairly, even when both sides are screaming obscenities at each other. The sad truth is, nobody wins in those cases. Everybody loses. That’s what happened today.
The downside to my job is that there are many days I don’t get to come home in a great mood. More often than not, I pull into my parking spot, like I am today, feeling like I failed the one little human who was counting on me. But I can’t make parents love each other. I can’t make them stay together – usually, it’s a not a good idea anyway. All I can do is explain shared custody to the kid, what that means for him or her, and that regardless of what’s happening around them, it’s never the kid’s fault. It’s a draining job, but my aim is to make sure those kids feel like someone in this world cares about them.
“Sampson!” I greet my favorite four-legged friend as he wags his tail for me when I open my apartment door. “How are you, buddy? Did you have a good day? Yeah? Let’s go outside. Come on.” I grab the leash hanging by the door and hook it on to Sampson’s collar and then lead him outside for a short walk. This is my favorite time of the day. Just me and man’s best friend, soaking in the outside air together after a long day. It’s too bad though that fall means it’s dark when I get home. It may only be going on six o’clock, but the dark makes me feel like it’s time for bed. Regardless, I take Sampson back upstairs and feed him and then get myself ready to go let off some steam in the gym downstairs. A workout and a nice shower will help me feel better.
And then maybe Linda will be around…
It doesn’t take long before I’m a sweaty mess running my fifth mile on the treadmill. It’s not very often I have the gym to myself, but on rare occasions like this, I take full advantage and use the time to run in silence so I can think about the day’s happenings. With any luck, I can run off my pent-up frustrations. As I hit my fourth mile, the door to the gym creaks opens and in walks Gabby Garette, the woman in apartment 4-C, that everyone in this building seems to know. She’s built like a damn Barbie doll, and she knows it. I really don’t know all that much about her other than that she’s supposedly an accountant who works from home…whatever that means. What I do know is that I see her come and go with several men around here, and usually I never see the same one twice.
“Hey Jack.” Gabby smiles brightly as she enters the gym.
“Gabby. How are you?” I huff as I continue to run, wishing now that I had put my earbuds in.
“Oh, I’m great. I’m just meeting someone here to go over a few yoga moves.” She unabashedly pulls off her long sleeved-shirt to reveal a skimpy pink sports bra. “Don’t let me distract you from your workout.” She bats her eyelashes and watches me like I’m supposed to act like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes bulge out of their sockets and their jaw drops to the floor. “I’m just going to do some stretches over here.” She explains, pointing to the far corner of the room.
Meeting someone for yoga? She doesn’t have to say ‘someone’. What she really means is a man, and I don’t know many men around here who actively practice yoga. I suppose as long as she’s bending over for them, some guys would be willing to practice anything. I don’t know what it is about her…maybe she’s too pretty, if that’s a thing…but she seems like a walking turn-off to me. I don’t want to get anywhere close to that. In fact, I decide to begin slowing down my run so I can just get the hell out of here. Almost five miles is enough for one night. I can do my crunches upstairs.
There hasn’t been a message from Linda all day. I don’t really know if I should be reading into that or not, but since our conversation was going so well the other day, I decide to take a stab at it again.
Jax: Why do you suppose they double bag raisin bread, but not regular bread?
I hit the submit button and shuffle to the kitchen to grab something to eat. A turkey sandwich it is, again, since I’m too lazy to try to cook something for myself. I’m pretty sure Sampson eats better than I do these days. I’ve done a good job of talking myself out of cooking most nights because, well, when you’re only cooking for one, why bother getting fancy? To my surprise, by the time I’m finished making my sandwich and pouring myself an iced-tea, my laptop dings with an incoming message.
NoRagrets: LOL! Ummm…. is it a deal breaker if I don’t have an answer? That’s definitely a very good question. I might be forced to Google it.
* * *
Jax: Hahaha that’s ok. It’s just one of those questions I tend to come up with when it’s quiet around here and I don’t feel like working.
* * *
NoRagrets: Long day?
* * *
Jax: You could say that. Frustrating mostly. Shit happens.
* * *
NoRagrets: Do you want to talk about it? I’m good for venting.
* * *
Jax: Not particularly. It’s everyday work for me. But I DO enjoy chatting with you.
* * *
NoRagrets: I understand. Oddly enough, I enjoy chatting with you too. So, let’s get your mind off work. Here’s something to ponder. Why do they call those little candy bars “Fun size”? Isn’t it more fun to eat the big ones?
* * *
Jax: “Oddly enough?” Hahaha! Am I that bad? That is an excellent question by the way. Those damn fun size are more like bite size! And that’s no fun at all!
* * *
NoRagrets: Sorry, no. Not bad at all. I just didn’t think this online thing would be my kind of thing.
* * *
Jax: Agree with you there. So, tell me something about you that not many people would know.
* * *
NoRagrets: Umm…I collect narwhals.
* * *
Jax: Narwhals?
* * *
NoRagrets: Yeah. Unicorns of the sea!!! Narwhals. You know what a narwhal is right? They’re like whales but with unicorn horns.
* * *
Jax: LoL! Yeah, I know what a narwhal is. What attracts you to a narwhal? Also, I’m pretty sure their horns are not beautiful and sparkly like a unicorn’s. ;)
* * *
NoRagrets: Ummm…I guess I don’t have an answer for that other than they’re unique creatures and I find them fascinating. And their horns should be sparkly. That would totally up their cool factor. Do you collect anything?
* * *
Jax: I mean, if dust bunnies under my dresser counts then yes. Yes, I do.
* * *
NoRagrets: Haha! Well you better keep an eye on those pesky things. They get wild and crazy if left unattended.
* * *
Jax: Haha! Definitely noted. *writes down reminder to clean under dresser before ever inviting Linda.*
* * *
NoRagrets: Meh. Who needs a clean house? Just watch an episode or two of Hoarders and I guarantee your place will look great!
* * *
Jax: Oh, is that your routine?
* * *
NoRagrets: Me? Nah. My cleaning ritual is to just drink wine and spray everything with Febreeze. ☺
* * *
Jax: LMAO! Perfect plan. I may just try that.
* * *
NoRagrets: Yes, after you’re done safety pinning your socks together…
* * *
Jax: Ooh, touché. Is Hoarders a favorite TV show of yours?
* * *
NoRagrets: HAHA! No. Actually, I think I’ve only ever seen one or two episodes. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, right?
* * *
Jax: Well, some have more cat shit than others, but yeah pretty much. Do you have a favorite show?
* * *
NoRagrets: Well, I can tell you what I’m NOT. I’m not a Bachelor or Bachelorette type of girl! Those shitty roses mean nothing and very rarely do those couples even stay together. It’s so ridiculous. *insert eye roll here*