by Roxy Queen
I pay at the counter and follow the girls outside. This place is nice and has a big patio, and the girls like to sit on the benches against the window. I take a seat at a small table and frown at my cup. It’s hot out here and my yogurt has already melted. Tiny gummy bears drown in the muddy chocolate.
The chair next to mine scraps against the cement and I look up.
Aqua-Man.
“Hey,” he says, plopping into the seat. I grunt back because I’ve got a mouth full of gummies and yogurt. “I saw you sitting over here and came to say hi.”
“Hi.” I swallow.
“Hi.”
“How you feeling?”
“Better. Man, I’m not doing that again.”
“Yes, you will, but at least now you know how to make it better.”
“Where did you lean such magical knowledge?” he asks.
I’ve never seen him in normal clothes and his looks hold up. I eye his muscles through the grey T-shirt and imagine what’s under the dark blue cargo shorts. Ever since seeing him in that Speedo it’s hard to put the Genie back in the bottle.
I hold up my pink spoon like a wand. “I’m a wise woman. It comes with age.”
He licks his lips and stares at me with that look he gave me before, the one he gave me after we kissed and boy, do I want to do it again. I want to taste the sweet sugar lingering on his mouth and run my hand through his hair and to see him naked.
He looks over at the girls. “So you guys are just hanging out?”
“Yep, big night. Yogurt and Disney movies.”
“Sounds fun.” He smiles wide and for a split second I almost ask him to come with us, but that must just be the intoxication I feel from his nearness.
“What about you?”
“Carter!” A girl shouts his name and we both look up. I see now that he’s here with a group of other kids and I feel incredibly stupid. And old. The girl waving to him has long blonde hair back in a pony-tail and shorts so short they may as well be underpants. I’ve got hips and the other day I think I noticed my boobs sagging a little.
“Just chillin’ with my friends. We’re going to a party later, which should be fun, I guess. See you tomorrow?” He’s halfway out of his chair. “Oh,” he says. “I like your hair like that. Down. I’ve never seen it that way before.”
I nod, afraid to open my mouth. He walks past Claire and Harper, tugging on both of their ponytails. They giggle at his attention, knowing it makes them special. When he joins his friends, I focus back on my yogurt, pretending that my stomach isn’t in knots over some kid.
*
“God, he’s bouncing off the damn wall,” Finley says, lowering her glasses like she needs to see this in real-time or something.
Aqua-Man, it seems, has some pent up energy.
“He’s been moving non-stop for ten minutes.” As if on cue, he bounces off the board in some kind of wild, uncontrolled dive. He disappears under the water and emerges on the shallow end of the pool where he immediately starts rough housing with some kids.
“Jesus,” I say. His energy is making me crazy. It’s like lightning bolts shooting off his skin, electrifying everything in contact.
“He needs to get laid,” Finley says.
“Or he just was,” I counter.
Maybe he fucked one of those girls the night before. Screwed her in the car or in a dark bedroom at the party. Wherever these kids sneak around. Whatever happened, he’s like a flame and I’m a suicidal moth.
I shoot out of my chair and jump in the water, attempting to cool myself off. It doesn’t work, so I swim to the other side and climb out at the ladder next to the guard chair. He’s next to the stand, bouncing a volley ball against the deck. I pass him, ‘accidentally’ brushing against his shoulder.
I continue walking toward the shelter, back around the corner where the kids sneak cigarettes and make out, looking to take a breather. I’m barely out of sight when he rounds the corner, closing in. He places one arm over my head, palm pressed flat against the building. I don’t dare look at his face. But like a woman possessed, I lift a hand and touch his chest and damn, if it isn’t as hard as it looks. Something grazes my leg and god, his chest isn’t the only thing that’s hard.
This time he makes the first move, covering my mouth with his. He pushes his tongue inside and my knees go weak. Then I remember. I’m the one in control here. I’m older and wiser and more experienced. I stand up straight and smash my bikini-clad boobs into his chest and bite down on his lip. Then, to top it off, I slip the tips of my fingers under the edge of his trunks, feeling the soft hair between his navel and cock.
His hips jerk and he breaks away from me, a glazed over look on his face. I run my nails over this chest, catching one of his dark brown nipples in the process.
“Uh,” he sputters, rubbing his hand down his face. Then he disappears around the corner. I enter the pool deck just in time to see a huge splash from the deep end. The thought enters my mind again and this time I know it’s true. It’s already started. I’m going to ruin this kid.
Chapter 11
The next day I’m waiting outside the bathhouse for Harper when I feel Carter behind me. He’s so big it’s like a shadow passes over me, eclipsing everything else. I hold my position for a beat because I’ve already made a fool of myself more than once and I’ve got to handle this carefully.
“Hey,” he says. He’s close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck.
I turn and his eyes are on my chest. I feel the heat rising off my own body. “Hi.”
He’s so pretty. All I want to do is run my hands over his flawless skin and have his hands run all over me. “So,” he starts, “I get off work at nine tonight.”
“Okay.” I’m wondering if he’s just telling me this or if this is way of asking me out. I have mixed feelings on the asking me out part. Where do you go with an eighteen-year-old? Bars are out. Lame clubs he can get into are also out. Would he take me to the Dairy Queen or Taco Bell? Can we even go out in public? I don’t think so.
“We could meet up, maybe, when I’m finished,” he suggests. I don’t think his eyes have left my boobs yet. I shift slightly to the right and sure enough, he never loses contact. This is my fault, though; I’m wearing the stringiest bikini. On purpose.
“Maybe.” I try to restrain the smile spreading across my mouth.
I feel a tug on my hand and we both look down. Claire stands below to me with her bathing suit twisted around her neck. Carter and I burst out laughing. “Hey, let’s go fix that,” I offer, pushing her back into the changing room. Before I go in, I feel a finger hook in the string of my bottoms.
“Here. 9:15.” he says. I fight the thrill creeping up my body from his simple touch. He’s thought this out. I consider he may not be as inexperienced as we suspected.
“I’ll be here.”
Chapter 12
The best thing about eighteen-year-old boys is they would rather kiss than talk. They’re infatuated with boobs and all you have to do is barely graze the spot above their hip and below their stomach, and you own them.
“Do that again,” he says. I scrape my teeth down his chest, over the taut ab muscles covering his stomach, down to the soft, fuzzy hair waiting below. He jerks when I kiss him soft and slow, and lick the skin so close to where he wants me most. I laugh and inhale the scent of chlorine and sunscreen off his body.
“You’re laughing at me.” He pulls me forward so he can touch my breasts through my dress, running his thumbs over the tops.
“A little,” I say. “You’re cute.”
He kisses me, better than the first time. He’s a fast learner and I’m a dedicated teacher. It’s a firm kiss. Perfect tongue, perfect pace, perfect boy.
“You’re beautiful.” He positions me so I’m straddling his hips, my dress hiking up my thighs. We’re on a lounge chair in the dark and the pool has an eerie calm about it at night. His warm fingers trail like fire up and down my legs. I concentrate, attempting to ignore
his cock, but it’s impossible because it’s hard, so hard, and right there.
I need to know more about this kid. I need to know what he knows, what he’s done. I need to make myself feel better about the position we’re in. Literally.
“So you really don’t have a girlfriend?”
His eyes narrow. What girl asks about another, he wonders. I can see the question in his eyes. I hold his gaze until recognition takes hold. This girl, the one here for this. The one willing to do that. The one not jealous because there is nothing to be jealous about.
“No, not now,” he tells me.
“So, before?”
He shrugs, blond hair falling into his eyes. “Here and there. I’m not really into relationships. I’ve always been focused on school and sports and just hanging out with my friends.”
I kiss him for his honesty and for being so freaking cute. When I pull back I say, “That’s nice. I was kind of the same way.” I stare at him for a minute, absorbing the sharp jaw, the sun-kissed hair. The reality that I’m here. “Carter, tell me about your experience.”
“What?” This takes him off guard and I suppose it should. Teenage girls don’t talk about things like this. They have fumbling sex in the back seat of a car or awkward blowjobs in their parents’ basement. They do it, but they don’t talk about it.
I kiss him again and rub my chest against his. The cotton of my dress is thin and I’m not wearing a bra. My erect nipples mesmerize him and he can’t stop looking at them—touching them, and if we keep this up my panties will soak through.
I lick his ear and whisper, “Tell me what you’ve done. What you know how to do and what you want to experience.” When I look at his face again, I realize that he understands, because his mouth is agape and his cheeks flush red. The wheels spin furiously in his head.
“I’ve had sex before,” he declares, which I’ve suspected because he’s just confident enough. “With two different girls. The first was a senior who asked me to Prom when I was a sophomore. I had no idea what I was doing,” he laughs. His fingers dip between my thighs like he’s letting me know this is no longer the case. “We had sex in the hotel room while her best friend puked up peach Schnapps. God, it was awkward but…” he shrugs again. “Then, I had a girlfriend earlier this year. I liked her well enough, but, I don’t know. I go to Catholic school—there’s a lot of guilt going around. It’s a little awkward when a girl sucks you off and then you see her duck into the confessional the next day.”
For once, I know a little something about guilty sex. “I’d like to see you in that uniform.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “That can be arranged.”
He’s acting calm, but he stopped moving his hips a while ago. Probably because any more movement will set him off. I fight the urge to test this theory, because he and I need to set some things straight before things get out of hand.
“Carter, I just feel like maybe I should be clear here, before we go further.”
“About what?”
I take a deep breath. “Obviously, I’m older than you and more experienced. And for whatever reason, okay for obvious reasons, you’re under my skin. It’s totally weird and unlike me.” I shift my hips a little and feel him beneath me. “But, I’ve been watching you and thinking about you and I just really, really, really want to spend time with you.”
He stares at me for a minute, swallows and says, “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I’m just letting you know where I stand and what I want.” I brace myself for the horrific rejection that should be coming my way. That and I’m anticipating some kind of special pervert police squad to bust in and arrest me.
A lazy, adorable smile appears, “I think what you want sounds really, really awesome.”
We have a moment where we’re both smiling at one another mulling over the possibilities. God, if he only knew the plans I have in store for him.
“You’ve been very patient. All these weeks of cat and mouse. I didn’t know if you would be into it,” I lie.
“Are you kidding?” he asks with a croak. I’ve positioned myself so I can reach him better.
He never changed out of his swim trucks so it takes a little maneuvering, but while he grips the side of the lounge chair I finally get a look at his dick. Oh hell. It’s big like the rest of him, throbbing and eager. I graze my finger over the sticky tip. There’s no way he’s making it more than a couple more minutes.
“Can I?” I ask.
He nods furiously and I dip my head, licking the soft skin, slow and skilled. He emits a deep, breathy groan while thrusting his hips toward my face.
“Slow down,” I tell him and he tries to oblige. I hurry my pace a little, this time taking him in deep, tasting him top to bottom. Carter’s balls turn rock hard and I graze them with my fingertips while he’s fucking my mouth. Normally, I’m not so into this but shit, he’s adorable and his stomach muscles contract with every movement and Jesus, it’s a thrill to control him like this. To bring him to this point.
“Oh God,” he says, jerking into my mouth, his cock ramming into the back of my throat. I take everything he has to give while hovering above him. When he’s finished I swallow and wink to let him know guilt is not a word that consumes me.
“That…”
“Was just the beginning,” I tell him, standing up and moving to the edge of the pool. I pull my dress over my head and drop it to the ground. “Come swim?”
You’d think he’d move slower and need a little recovery time, but I remember he’s eighteen. Carter, in particular, seems to have endless energy. I haven’t even had the chance to jump in the water when he tackles me from behind. Cradling me in his arms we both fall with a splash into the deep end.
I open my eyes under water and try to make out his shape in the darkened pool, but it’s not necessary because his hands are all over my body and his lips have found mine.
This summer just got way more interesting.
*
Guilt doesn’t consume me, but Carter, on the other hand, does. I wasn’t lying when I said he’s under my skin. He’s an itch I cannot soothe. In another life I’d call myself a whore or a slut or a cradle robber. But I don’t care. I want this and him. It’s a summer fling and I plan on falling straight into it. I plan on dragging him with me.
We stand at the cars afterwards, my long hair still damp and hanging down my back. Our cars sit alone in the parking lot and he says, “Shouldn’t I give you a ride home or something?”
The idea of him in my apartment has its appeal but it’s a line I’m not willing to cross. I just laugh and say, “I’m a big girl. See you tomorrow?”
We part with another kiss and another until I push him away and drive off. Even then I’m jumping out of my skin in anticipation for the next time I see him.
Betsy’s out on her deck when I get home and I give her a friendly wave. “You’re out later than usual,” she says. “Hot date?”
“No dates,” I say. “Just hanging with friends.” It’s not a lie—exactly. Blow jobs don’t count as a date.
“Can you put us on the calendar for Friday?”
I climb the steps and lean against the deck railing. “You need a sitter?
“We’re having dinner with some friends and we want you to come. Just a cookout nothing fancy.”
“Sure, I’ll make a dessert.”
The next day I try to keep the smile off my face when I enter the pool, because really. I need to chill out.
“How was your meet up?” Finley and I cool off in the water. It’s too freaking hot to be anywhere else.
“Good.”
“Yeah?”
I splash water on my arms and over my chest. He’s watching every move. I lean back on the edge of the pool, propped on my elbows, so he can have a better view. “Yeah.”
“Did you guys do it?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I wanted to work my way up, or down as the case may be.”
“Did you?” She makes a crude
, but well-known gesture.
“Oh, yeah.”
Her head turns toward him a little. She’s thinking about it. About him. “How big?”
“Big—like him.”
“Was it weird? Is it? Him being younger?”
“Maybe a little.” I shrug and watch him yell at a kid for running. His voice gives me chills. He’s nice, but firm to the kids at the pool and that makes me like him even more. “We talked some. He’s not a virgin. He’s had a blow job before. This isn’t uncharted territory for him. But…”
“But what?” She turns and rests her elbows on the side.
“But when he looks at me it’s like watching a kid in a candy shop. And I’m the candy. I can feel the want vibrating off his body. It runs though his blood and across his skin. Does he want me in particular?” I muse. “I don’t know. I doubt it, and really, I don’t care. That kid is horny twenty-four-seven and I plan to exploit every last second.”
We both look over just in time to catch him adjusting himself in the chair. We giggle and he gives me a quick, oblivious smile.
“Twenty-four-seven.”
Chapter 13
“Softer,” I tell him. His face moves between my thighs and his beard feels thick and scratchy. I want him so bad it hurts, but he asked me to show him, so I am. After some fumbling around and a couple moments of indecision he found his rhythm and I found mine. His tongue feels hot and perfect. But I know if I don’t come soon, he’s going to end up with sticky shorts and neither of us wants that.
“Keep going,” I encourage him, feeling the rush from doing something so dirty. So immature and illicit. I haven’t made out in the back seat of a car since high school. The fogged-over windows give a false sense of privacy, but anyone could discover us. Anyone. It’s not like we’ve even tried to hide the car. Paranoia creeps in until his tongue hits my sweet spot and my body starts to shake and shiver. The possibility of getting caught makes the pleasure more intense.