by Morrison, KT
“You’re so hot,” he said. “You’re the hottest fuck I’ve ever had.”
“Am I?”
“Oh my God,” he said, “You’re so fucking sexy.”
She said, “You’re so fucking sexy,” and her hand caressed his stomach muscles and gripped his cock, stroking it again. She kissed it, making three kissing noises on the underside of his shaft. He smiled and caressed his hands over her head. She whispered, “I’ve never, ever had sex like that.”
She stroked him again, producing a pearly bulb out of his urethra, put her mouth over his large glans and sucked him. Pulling her lips free and sucking them between her teeth, she smiled. She said, “You’re so hot. You’re so fucking hot. Your body is unbelievable. I can’t believe this thing fit inside me.” She wagged his cock and admired it.
“God, that was good,” Colt said any laughed, ran both his hands over his hair to smooth it back from his handsome face and collapsed his head against the bed. Taylor rose up facing him, and the way she kneeled now Harrison could see a thin dangling strand of Colt’s semen between her legs.
55
Taylor sensed the thread of semen dangling and brought up bundled bedsheet between her legs. She gave herself a few swipes, rolled the dirtied sheet in a loose ball and batted it away. Colt lay on his back with his hands behind his head watching her, head propped up on a folded lump of comforter; showing off his body at the same time, letting that huge glistening tool lay up on his hard, ridged belly. It was thick and so impressive, and Colt looked so good with Taylor. The sight of him so comfortable with his girlfriend was stabbing Harrison through the heart. They looked right together.
Taylor said, “We need to get back down there. You gotta go ...”
“I know, I know,” he said.
She laughed a little, dropped over top of him on her hands and knees, her hair falling around his face and chest. He caressed her neck again, and they kissed one more time.
Taylor’s bare ass was pointed at Harrison, and he could see her sex had been ravaged by this older guy. Her pussy lips were puckered; she looked used. That hard ball in his stomach grew just a little bigger, and he took a long shaky breath.
Colt said to her, “I’ve been wanting to fuck you all day long.” He touched the point of his index finger to the center of her plump lower lip.
She grabbed his finger, wagged it in her fist and said, “I’ve been wanting to fuck you all day, too.”
“It was so fuckin’ worth it,” he groaned.
Taylor said, “But we really gotta get back down there before somebody notices we’re gone.” She put her foot down on the floor and raised off him.
Colt sat up behind her as she stood at the side of the bed. He said, “Hold on,” and she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. He put his hands on her narrow waist, caressed her ass, held her hips and pulled back to bite her ass cheek.
She jumped and laughed, did a little kick to get away from him. Out of his reach, she slapped her own ass, and he reached out and whapped the other cheek. Harrison watched her tight buns jiggle. She wagged her bottom at Colt now a half dozen feet away, safe from his grasp. She said, “You like it?”
He said, “You’ve been showing it to me all day. I thought I was gonna bust a nut in my pants.”
She caressed her own bottom now, looked at him over her shoulder again. Now she walked completely naked to the dresser and Harrison had to shift sideways to see her. There was a small mirror on a stand at the top of the dresser and she watched herself in it, turning her left cheek, turning her right cheek; spotted something.
She said, “Oh shit, you came in my hair ... oh no ...”
Colt laughed, putting a leg through his blue underwear. “Sorry about that.”
“Shit,” Taylor sighed, frowning sulkily. She turned and squatted down to retrieve her T-shirt again. Back at the mirror, she pulled locks of her shining hair through the bundled up T-shirt. “Shoot. It really got me.”
Colt said, “That’s what happens when you show that body off all day.”
She swatted her bottom again and smiled in the mirror.
While Colt put his shorts on, found his T-shirt and pushed his big muscular arms through it, Taylor opened dresser drawers and pulled a few things out. She tossed a pale pink sweatshirt onto the bed. Cole was fully dressed now, and he came to her and put his arms around her, his chest to her back. He put his chin into the space where her collar met her neck. He breathed her in, and she caressed her hands over his hands laid on her belly. She was still naked. He said, “You got my number?”
“I do,” she said.
He kissed her cheek and bit at her ear and she made a girlish, happy sound. Then he slapped her bottom lightly one more time, gave it a squeeze, and kissed her shoulder. “See you downstairs,” he said, and turned, walked to her bedroom door and left.
Taylor watched the closed door for a second, and when she turned Harrison could see joy on her face. Her cheeks were bright red, and she smiled so wide her teeth showed. She threw herself on the bed, jumping up on her knees like a little kid. She covered her face and fell with her head on the pillow. “Oh my God,” she breathed into her hands. “Oh my fucking God. Holy shit ...”
It was too much for Harrison. He sat down slowly and quietly, his breaths on the verge of sobs but he was strangely free of sadness. There was something else there in its place, something similar. It was hard and black, and it hurt, but he wasn’t sad. Was it remorse, or just plain dread? His pant leg felt cold and wet and he gripped his erection over top of the cotton. Sometime when Taylor was coming, riding Colt in reverse cowgirl, he’d ejaculated. Not a huge orgasm, but just a fantastic release into his underwear. It was an odd response that was for sure. He should feel rage right now. He should feel pain. He didn’t. Just that lump of stocking coal that must be dread, but really he felt ... love. Happiness, too, even. Where did that come from? That made no sense.
Despite the lack of sadness, he couldn’t deny that tears had streamed his cheeks. He dried his face, inched himself down the scratchy shingled slope, got further from the window, rose to a crouch and began creeping along the roof again.
Their friends still ringed the fire. Cisco was fast asleep. Mikey still strummed, no longer singing, just noodling around. Roxie sat in Care Bear’s lap and kissed him. Her head looked tiny against his black-furred face. Her little thin fingers stroked through his hair. KC and Pontoon still talked and drank beer near the fire. Hand Job Stevie joined them and tried to look innocent. Jamie and Cookie made out and April roasted a marshmallow.
Colt emerged from the darkness with a beer in his hand, stepping out of the shadows and slipping back to sit in his chair by the fire. He kicked his flip-flops off and put his bare feet up to warm them by the flames. He looked dozy and satisfied.
The tears came again, wishing he could be that guy. Wishing that he was that for his Taylor. Something the most beloved person in his life would crumble for. He wished he could make her come the way Colt made her come. Wished when he left the room, she would throw herself on the bed and breathe into her hands Oh my God, oh my God. He wiped with his knuckles, squeezed the tears away, found the open window to the room he belonged in. Not Taylor’s room, the guest boys’ room.
He slipped in the window, stepped down onto the carpeted floor and went to his bag. He rooted through, found fresh underwear and shorts. He pulled the towel out, too, dried up the semen that squirted down his leg while he watched another guy fuck his girlfriend. Marveled at how that was even possible.
“How does this happen?” he said, scrubbing his thigh.
When clean shorts and underwear were on, he sat down heavily on the bed and hung his head. He rubbed circles on his temple with closed fists wondering what on earth he would do now.
56
Three quiet knocks on Taylor’s door before he heard her gentle voice from behind saying, “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” he said.
She didn’t answer for a long time. H
e was ready to turn around and go back to where he belonged before he heard her say, “Come in.”
When he opened the door, he saw her on the bed. The bed where he made love to her bare and natural for the first time ever, and where he’d seen her taken properly—taken savagely—by a guy who could really make her come. Legs bare, feet bare, she had her knees up and she sat with her phone against her thighs. The room was still lit in red, her T-shirt draped over the lamp. The light of her phone shone from below and only Taylor had a face that could look so beautiful lit that way.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she said back. The hold button on her phone was pressed, her screen faded to black. Her legs dropped down to lay flat on the bed. She wore an oversized sweatshirt in pale pink. On the front was a corny painting of a bear in the woods, above it a meandering path; there was also a moose and a sunset beaming through the trees. Below it in script read: Walker City, Michigan. A gem from the WC store.
His gaze wouldn’t meet hers and he put his hands in his pockets, stared at the point where the brass legs of her bed’s footboard touched the hardwood and left a pale, ghostly reflection even in the dim. A long moment later he said, “I know.”
“Know what?” she said softly.
“I know what happened. You and Colt.”
“What happened?”
“You had sex with him.”
She softly exhaled, a long, delicate breezy sound. Now it was her looking at the floor. She said, “You can’t tell anyone. KC would kill me. Kill Colt, too.”
He mumbled, “Him I can do without. The world might be a better place.”
“Harrison, please don’t tell anyone.”
“Looks like I’ve got the power,” he said, gaining the courage to look at her face and give her a thin, watery smile.
With her head tilted, she pleaded, “Please, don’t.”
He’d only been joking. He said, “Your secret’s safe with me, Taylor. I’m not telling anyone.”
She regarded him for a long moment, her lips pursing to a thin line, turning down; her eyes went pink and watery while he let her look him over, not saying a thing. She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks suddenly. A tear flashed in the lamplight as it fell from her jaw and disappeared somewhere in that forest on her sweatshirt. “Are you okay?” she said in a thick and warbling voice.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little high, a little tight.
“Are you?”
Now he inhaled, leaned his back against her wall and closed the door behind him. With his hands in his pockets his eyes went back down to the floor again. He said, “I don’t know.”
“You won’t tell?” she whispered.
He said, “Weren’t you texting all your friends when I came in, letting them all know?”
“Know what?”
“That you had sex with Colt.”
She shook her head, looked at her phone, flipped it over and over against her tanned thigh. She said, “I wouldn’t be too popular.”
“Why not?”
“Sleeping with Colt? That would be cheating on you. They like you.”
“Did you cheat on me?”
“I don’t know. Did I?”
“You slept with him. What does it mean?”
She said, “That’s up to you, Harrison. You’re the one with all the power.”
“Bullshit, Taylor.”
She smiled. “I wasn’t texting my friends. I was writing you a letter,” she said and her face pinched up and blossomed in red as she began to cry. Her fingers darted up to squeeze her sockets, and she sniffled. When she showed him her face again, the smile had returned and looked out of place on a face so twisted with sadness. She asked in constricted voice: “Did we break up?”
“You tell me,” he said.
“I didn’t break up with you,” she said.
He said, “You think we’re on a break?”
“I guess we are,” she whispered hopefully.
“No, we’re not.”
Her smile vanished, and the sadness consumed her features again. She pulled the front of her sweatshirt out to wipe her tears. She let out a squeaky, “Okay,” and nodded.
He sighed and looked up at the angled ceiling of her bedroom. He said, “We’re not on a break and we didn’t break up.”
Still tearing, she watched him now. The dim red shone on half her face and the wet in her eyes gleamed as she struggled to comprehend him. There was hope there and his breath chugged seeing it. His stomach fluttered, and he fought off his own tears. She wiped her cheeks again with the back of a hand, and mumbled a high, “What?” Her lips stuck together.
“We are not on a break and we did not break up.”
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
His head dipped to stare now at the floor. “Go. Go to California and do whatever.”
“What do you mean whatever?”
“Whatever. I’ll see you on Thanksgiving and you can come to my house, we’ll sit together and we’re a couple.”
She whispered, “We’re a couple?”
Back eased off the wall, hands still in his pockets, he closed the distance between them and stood at the foot of her bed. “I can’t be without you,” he whispered.
“I can’t ... be ... without ... you ...” she struggled to say in chugging inhales.
His knee leaned against the bedpost and it was like a closed electric connection; his heart flooded with warmth for her despite what he’d watched her do right here. “Are you going to fall in love out there?”
She shook her head no.
“Yeah, you are,” he sighed.
“I’m not trying to.”
“Will you tell me what you do?”
She shrugged, twisted her mouth to the side and looked to the wall.
He said, “Will you tell me who you do?”
Now she sucked her lips in and shook her head harder.
He said, “What if I want you to?”
She looked to him, breathed a moment. Her lips were parted, her eyes red. “Tell you if I have sex with someone?”
“Yeah. Would you?”
“Would you want me to tell you, for real?”
“I would. Definitely.”
“I would tell you. If that’s what you want.” She watched him wondrously, her eyes widening with hope again. She brought the front of her sweatshirt up to wipe the wet from her cheeks and sniffed.
Now he nodded, couldn’t believe he had actually asked that. Didn’t know he would. The thought of her away was bad enough, but he couldn’t handle the not-knowing. Not at all. And given the reaction between his legs as he watched her, maybe there was a little he could glean from her action with other guys; it could connect them. He sat down on the end of the bed, far from her, his hip pressing the footboard, took his hands out of his pockets and collected them in his lap. His thumbs caressed each other, and he said, “I watched you, you know.”
Taylor nodded, her mouth working around. She made a loud sound of swallowing, touched her throat, said “Excuse me,” then eyes turned down to the bed, said, “I hoped you would.”
He chuckled, groaning at the scale of his revelation. “No, from the window. When you had sex with Colt. I ... watched.”
Taylor said, “Yeah, I know, that’s what I mean. I hoped you would.”
Their eyes met and her expression was blank. He struggled to understand—was sure he’d misheard. “What—why?”
“I don’t know. I thought you might. I opened the window—”
“You opened the ... you wanted me to see that? To hear that?”
She averted her eyes and nodded.
“Are you crazy?”
She turned to face him, brow lowered. She said, “Are you crazy, Harrison?”
Softer now, he said, “You wanted me to watch you?”
“You watched me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah—”
“The whole thing?”
“Yeah,” he admitted and felt his cheeks blaze red.
Eyes lowered again, she whispered, “We’re both crazy.”
The cool of his palms pressing on his warm cheeks, he said, “You thought I would watch you?”
She said, “You used to peep on me.”
“I did not.”
She snorted. “You sure did.”
He chuckled reluctantly, said, “Maybe I did.”
“That’s how I knew to leave my window open. It was there if you wanted it.”
“Looks like I wanted it.”
“I knew you’d come.”
“I came.” Boy, did he ever. A welcome but inexplicable smile spread his cheeks. He said, “You know, one time I saw you in your bra I thought I was gonna die.”
She smiled too, let her chin rest on her knees. “And then you saw me without it.”
“Yeah, it took a while, but I finally got your top off. Remember the party at Shelby’s uncle’s?”
She said, “No, I let you see them through my window.”
He said, “I never saw them through the window. Through this window?” He pointed to the head of the bed.
She said, “What do you mean you didn’t see them? I showed them to you.”
“The most I ever saw was you in your bra.”
“Are you serious?” She frowned deeply and stared across the room, the corner of her mouth quirking up and setting a dimple in her cheek. “You were outside, and I finally got the nerve to take my bra off and walk around. My stomach had butterflies when I turned around. I knew you peeped, and I was so nervous to show you. I built up nerve all summer.”
57
Harrison gave her his serious look, the one where he conveyed utmost sincerity. “Taylor, I never saw you naked through this window.”
It made her want to laugh. It was a secret fact in their relationship and it had been a tenet so long she couldn’t comprehend it not being true. The summer of 2013 was when she’d finally built up the nerve, and, wow, it wasn’t easy. She knew he’d spied on her and it turned her on to be so desired that a sweet boy like Harrison would do something so crazy. But it took a whole year before she felt confident enough, and a year of development, and by the next summer her legs were shaking waiting for him to show up outside her dormer. Almost chickened out, too, but then, boom, she did it, turned around and let him see for one brief second, then grabbed a shirt and put it on. Then she sat on her bed, shame-faced and on the verge of blubbering. It was the excitement and the adrenalin of the moment that had saved her. Now it wasn’t true?