~ Clint ~
Emily is quiet this morning as I drive her to school. Well, I'm quiet too. I can't shake the feeling of guilt from last night when I masturbated to thoughts of her. I guess she's feeling embarrassed over walking out of the bathroom just wearing a towel to find me still awake. She's staring out of the passenger window, I can't stop taking quick looks at her. She's wearing a pair of short shorts, made even shorter by sitting. I wonder if her dad lets her go to school like this, but it's not my place to say anything, besides it's a nice view.
I glance over again, my eyes traveling slowly up her long, smooth legs until reaching the edge of her shorts. I wonder if she's shaven or not. Dammit, I shouldn't be wondering that! I reach over and turn the volume up on the radio to distract myself and fill the silence. She finally looks away from the window and our eyes meet briefly before she hurriedly looks back out the window again.
We drive in silence until finally reaching her school. I park at the curb and turn down the radio as she unbuckles and grabs her bag. I want to avoid sounding like a parent; being more of a friend seems to make more sense. So I avoid the whole 'straight home' talk and instead grab her arm before she can fully exit the car. An electric current seems to go through me at our contact. She spins around to look at me, her eyes wide, but I can't tell if it's because she felt the same thing or is just shocked that I grabbed her.
“Uh, sorry,” I mutter and let go of her arm. “Just text me when you get out of school and make it back home, OK?”
“Yeah, sure... except I kinda need your number for that”. She finally smiles for the first time today.
“Right. I have yours,” she raises her eyebrows so I explain, “Your dad...”
“Right, OK. So just text me and I'll save you as a contact?”
“Perfect. Have a good day”.
“Thanks, you too”.
She hesitates a moment, probably just waiting to see if I have anything else to add, then closes the door and heads towards the school building. I watch her walk away, my eyes watching her ass without my permission. Half way to the building another girl runs up to Emily and they link arms as they walk the rest of the way together. I assume that's her best friend; wearing even shorter shorts. I look around and notice most of the girls are sporting an attire more revealing than Emily's. Emily isn't dressed like a nun, but in comparison to the majority she is conservative. The girls disappear through the set of double doors and I drive to work.
I reach the office, talk briefly to my secretary who hands me a thick folder full of my day's worth of work and retire to my chair. My secretary tells me that the boss hasn't left any messages for me, so I start up my computer and check my company in-box; nothing. He must be having too good of a time with his girlfriend to check in on his daughter. For some reason that makes me mad. There's nothing I can do about it though.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts list until finding Emily's cell phone number and sending her a quick message. Then I turn my attention to my workload and get started. ~ Emily ~
I think Clint is mad at me or something. He hasn't said more than two words to me all morning and doesn't seem like the care-free guy he was last night after the movie. My dad warned me that he was pretty OCD about stuff, so I tried to clean up after myself, but that's hard to do when I don't even have a drawer to stick my clothes in. This morning I went into the bathroom and he had taken my towel from last night's shower and put it in the hamper. All my little stuff that I had arranged very neatly on the counter had been moved into the sink drawers. Then, when I came out from getting dressed for school he had already removed my blanket and pillow from the couch, probably putting them back into the hall closet, I guess. I'll have to be more careful with my stuff so I don't irritate him, but he could at least tell me to put things away or whatever.
He grabbed my arm before I left his car and I felt that same tingle between my legs and the same weird energy that I had felt in the elevator with him. I honestly think he felt it too, but he's so hard to read. I can't even imagine what I would do if I found out that he actually liked me, or found me attractive. Ashley was waiting for me when I got out of the car, so I didn't have time to think about the what-ifs. She immediately started to carry on about Eric and how I needed to talk to him or something before he got picked up by another girl. I know she's my best friend, but she is still annoying as all hell when she gets going, especially when it's about my life.
“OK, Em. Listen, you need to go tell Eric that you like him, like seriously."
“Why?! Because if you don't he's going to find someone else."
“What do you mean 'so'. He's only the hottest guy here AND he likes you!”
“He likes my body."
“Well, duh. What else do you want?”
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe a more mature guy; a man, who likes me for my brains."
“Oh, please. When's the last time you heard a guy say 'wow, she has a hot pair of brains'?”
“If a man told me that, I would give him my attention. Eric, is just a boy who wants sex."
“Hold on. There's someone else, isn't there?!”
“Oh yes there is! Who is he?! He's older, right?”
The bell rings, thankfully, and we both are forced to rush into our different classes before I can answer and before Ashley can press me for more details. I sit in my history class thinking over what she had said though. Was I falling for Clint? It was ridiculous to even consider, it would never happen between us. He was pretty much everything I found attractive in a guy, but he showed no interest. Besides, what if he did like me, it wasn't like we could run away together, I'm only 17. And there's no way I could ever get up enough courage to make a move on him. Sure, the thought of surprising him with sexy lingerie and stuff has crossed my warped mind, but that's as far as things would ever go; just fantasy and dreams.
My history class drags on forever. It's not that Mr. Preston is boring, usually he is the more entertaining of my teachers, but I just can't concentrate on anything he is saying. I keep wondering what Clint is doing at that exact moment, if he is pacing around his office, or flirting with co-workers, or maybe thinking about me. Finally, the bell rings and I come back to earth and walk to my locker where Ashley is already waiting. Her locker is right next to mine, so we always hang out there in the hall until our next class starts. I dread her questioning that I know will continue, but there is no way to avoid it.
“OK, so this other guy. What's his name? Does he go to a different school?”
“Ash, don't. I'm having a bad day, alright?” I lie to get her off my back.
“Sure, sure. One more though, do you have a picture of him on your phone?!”
I had totally forgotten that Clint said he would text me with his number until Ashley brought it up. I fumble out my phone, anxious to see if he had sent a text or not. My heart jumps when I see I have a new message. I open it, and it is him! I quickly save him as a contact, almost afraid that his number would suddenly vanish from my phone never to be seen again. Only then do I go back to read what the text says. Just as I pull it back up Ashley snatches my phone from out of my hands.
“Hey! That's private property!” I make a grab for my phone, but she turns and I miss.
“I knew it! Ooooh, Clint huh?” she giggles her annoying giggle.
“Ash, give that back right now!”
“Oh la la. 'See you tonight, baby'. How hot."
'Baby'?! I practically tackle her and wrestle my phone from her in a not so nice way.
“Ouch, Em. Damn! I was just joking."
I read his message, while Ashley looks hurt and rubs her wrist at the point where I had nearly ripped her arm off . She had lied, of course. Clint didn't say 'Baby' anywhere in the message, but it was still cute and I can picture that half-smile of his in his words. Message from Clint:
Hey Emily, work already sucks, hope you're having a better day than I am! Please, don't forget to text me when you get home. See you tonight.
I reread the message again, feeling special to have received his attention. The next bell rings and I type out a quick reply while I walk to my next class, Ashley next to me, reading my words. Sheesh, she really has no sense of privacy. Message from Emily:
School is fine except for some annoying people... Sorry your day isn't great. Can't wait for tonight.
I hit send before I can rethink my choice of words. I don't know why I added that last part, I guess just to make Ashley jealous, or to think I really did have something going on with him. At least now she will finally leave me alone about the whole Eric thing. And honestly, compared to Clint he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. Maybe after my dad came back home and things returned to normal, and Clint wasn't walking around half-nude in my presence, then I could give Eric a fair chance. But right now, he just seems even more of a immature boy than ever.
We get into our seats in our math class and I stuff my phone back into my pocket. I swear I can feel it burning against my skin as if it had somehow become a part of Clint. Ashley leans over while our teacher collects yesterday's homework assignments.
“Hey, so about Eric?”
“What now, Ash?”
“Well, since you got someone else you're not interested in him, right?”
She hands me her homework to pass up to the front of the row and then sits back in her chair. Thank goodness the Eric thing is out of her system now. I pull my math book out of my bag and turn to the next chapter while waiting for the teacher to get started. My phone vibrates. I read the new message while hiding my phone under my desk. Message from Clint:
You 'can't wait'? My spaghetti really isn't all that great you know. But thanks ahead of time :)
I smile like an idiot. Did he seriously just use a smiley face in our conversation? That's incredibly cute! One of the only things he said to me this morning was that he would make us dinner tonight; spaghetti to be exact. Thank goodness that's what he took my last message to mean. But, I was a little let down that he didn't read it as a flirting gesture. This whole texting thing could turn out to be a lot of fun, unless he got tired of it. It was much easier to talk to him this way than it was in person. And, I could be flirty without really making it seem that way. I replied. Message from Emily:
I love spaghetti! Especially with big meatballs. Did you just use a smiley?
I snicker at my hidden meaning within the text. I reread our string of conversation while my math teacher starts to go over some of the trickier math problems from our homework assignment. I tune her out. Math is one of my best subjects, and so far I have had no problems understanding any of the material. My phone vibrates in my hand. I look around, but no one seems to have noticed. Message from Clint:
Big meatballs: check. Do smileys make you sad? :( there, no more smileys. Shouldn't you be studying or taking notes?
I almost laugh out loud, but stop myself. He replied really fast, he must have his phone in hand. I want to think of a witty reply, but all I can think about is him waiting for my answer and I don't want to keep him waiting. Message from Emily:
Sad faces make me sad. Smileys make me smile :D Like that. Shouldn't YOU be working?! Besides, you're the one who texted me first. If I get in trouble then it's all your fault.
I keep my phone in my hand and still hidden under my desk, so I can see his reply the second it comes in. But after a few minutes I'm forced to put my phone away. My math teacher has us pairing up to work in groups to solve some new problems. Ashley pulls her desk up right next to mine and stares at me until I start working. She will just end up copying whatever I put and not helping at all, but I don't really mind. She sucks at math and without me to help her she would have already flunked this class. Our teacher walks around the room checking on us and eliminating any possibilities for me to check my phone for a while. ~ Clint ~
Messaging back and forth with Emily was fun this morning. I could feel her semi-flirting in her messages but I guess that's what all kids do these days. Besides, a little joking back and forth won't hurt anyone. I'm just glad that she's opening up to me again. This whole parenting role thing is tricky. I need her to listen to me and stay out of trouble, but I don't want her to hide from me or intentionally avoid me when we're together either. Speaking of trouble, I need to remember to not text her during school hours anymore. I forgot she's just a kid and cell phones aren't supposed to be used while in school. That wouldn't go over well if I got her suspended in her dad's absence. Luckily, she's a smart kid and once I stopped messaging her she stopped as well.
When I get home tonight I think we will have to talk about some house rules after all; like no coming out of the bathroom in just a towel, no leaving panties out in the open, and no moaning my name out in her sleep. I'm still not sure what that was about. I mean, I know what it sounded like, but I have to be wrong. She probably had some weird nightmare, or something, or maybe she's just having separation anxiety from her dad. I didn't mention her dream talking to her this morning, not after embarrassing her last night. I doubt I'll ever mention it to her. Some things are just better left alone.
I stretch and look at the clock. Only an hour and a half left to go. Emily should be getting to the apartment any minute now. I hate this time of day on a Friday. All I want is to be done, go home and have a few drinks, call up the company I use and order a girl for the night, and then take a long, hot bath. Well, I guess ordering some fun is out of the plans this weekend. Maybe I could take Emily somewhere, hang out with her one-on-one, get her to trust me.
I look at the clock again. Only three minutes have gone by. Oh, what the hell. It's Friday, I'm done talking to clients, and Jim did say to feel free to take time off to see to Emily if I wanted. I shut down my computer, refile a few loose papers, water the plant in the corner of the office, and walk out. My secretary flashes me her best smile as I pass. I give her a fake one back. Poor girl, totally not my type, but she just won't give up.
Emily texts me as I'm nearing my car. Message from Emily:
Honey, I'm home! I'm starving. Do you have any snacks in this place?!
I laugh at her Lucy reference. Isn't she too young to even know about that show? Still funny though. It's a good thing I decided to leave work early, from the sound of it she's about to raid the fridge. I suddenly get the idea to surprise her with my coming home earlier. I'll swing by the store and pick up kid-like snacks then show up at the apartment with a bag full of treats and be the hero of the day. Message from Clint:
You've got some explaining to do! Make yourself at home, but I don't keep anything that you would probably like. Feel free to look though. See you soon
I start up my car and head towards the store. I try to think of all the unhealthy, sugar-coated, chocolate injected snacks I used to eat as a kid, but it's hard to remember many. My parents had always been controlling, diet included, and my biggest treat had always been fruit popsicles and the such. Even after leaving their prison of a home I was never big on sweets, so I guess they were successful in that area. No sugar created cavities for this guy.
I reach the store and head into the candy section. There's a ton of choices and I have no idea where to even start. I should have just asked Emily what she wanted. I pick up a box of chocolate covered raisins, then switch that out for chocolate covered cherries. I debate whether or not a teenage girl would like them, but I'm suddenly caught in a mini-fantasy of a naked Emily spread out on my bed, as I slowly, tortuously drag a cherry down the center of her body. She's handcuffed to my headboard and writhing underneath my touch. She moans my name and begs me to stop teasing her and just fill her pussy with my cock.
I put the chocolate cherries back on the shelf. A mother and her young son come into my aisle. I watch him eye all the different selections before settling for a giant kit-kat bar. The mom doesn't approve, but she let's him put it into their cart anyway. She smiles at me and shrugs. They leave and I'm alone again. I feel foolish unable to choose a simple candy, so I walk down the aisle and grab boxes, bags, and candy bars at random and toss them into my small basket. Hopefully, there's something in there that Emily will like. Maybe she will even give me a hug in gratitude, press her tits up against my chest, let her hips push into mine... Or maybe I need a cold shower and a visit to a shrink. I pay for the candy, toss the bag onto the passenger seat, and head home. ~ Emily ~
I just got back to Clint's apartment. It's really strange being here without him. I sent him a text when I got here like he had asked, how could I say no to him? I walk to the kitchen and unpack my book bag to get started on some homework. The apartment is eerily quiet and my stomach growling sounds a hundred times louder than usual. I decide to raid his cupboards for something to snack on.
Oatmeal, granola bars, fruit bars, different types of nuts, raisins. I close the pantry. Makes sense he doesn't have any junk, he wouldn't have the body he does if he ate like me. Procrastinating I walk to the living room and read the titles of the books he has. A few I have read, but most I have never heard of. From where I stand I can see down the short hallway and see his closed bedroom door. My feet start to carry me there on their own accord. I stand outside of his door, my hand on the cool metal door knob. I know I shouldn't invade his private space, but I'm curious as hell. Just a quick peek.
I open the door and fumble my hand along the wall to find the light switch. I smile at his room; it fits him exactly. Muted gray walls. Cherry wood flooring with matching dressers, night stands, and headboard. Light gray comforter that ends in black at the bottom on a queen sized bed. Everything accented with silver; silver bedside lamps, silver alarm clock, silver handles on all furniture. And the room is immaculate; no stray shoes or socks, no dust on anything, even the fan above the bed looks pristine. The room smells deeply of him.
He won't leave the office for at least another hour or so, plus the drive time here, I had enough time to snoop around in more detail. I kick off my shoes, afraid they will leave traces of dirt on the floor and step all the way inside his room. Feeling very naughty, but unable to stop, I walk straight to his bed. I can imagine his beautiful, naked form laying under the comforter and I'm actually jealous of the bed. I lean over and smell the nearest pillow, closing my eyes while I do so. It smells so wonderful. I breath him in deep again, picturing I'm laying against his chest.
I want to see more about him and leave the bedside. As I walk to his closet I can feel that my panties are already wet. I might have to go use his detachable shower head before he gets home. The thought of masturbating in his shower without him knowing is another turn on. But first... I open his closet door. OCD heaven inside. All suits are hung according to their color, all ties are separately hung but again by color, same goes for his belts. A shoe rack on the closet's floor contains his extra pairs, again, sorted by their colors. A small laundry basket is in the corner. My naughty side jumps up and down inside of me at the thought of coming across a pair of his underwear. Before I can change my mind, I start to delicately look through his dirty clothes.
I find the prize! A pair of black boxer briefs. I pull them out and instantly smell them. I feel incredibly dirty smelling someones dirty underwear, but I am rewarded with an intoxicating scent of him. His cologne, mixed with body wash, and the musky scent of his privates. I want to keep the briefs forever, but Mr. OCD will no doubt notice their disappearance. Without thought, I unbutton my shorts and pull them off of me along with my wet panties. I step into his briefs, they are big, but I look at myself in his mirror and see that I am super cute in them.
I bend and dig out my cell phone from my discarded shorts, check the time (still plenty), then scroll through my music selection and crank up the volume to the max. I toss the phone on his bed then face the mirror and start to dance sexily. For whatever reason, it actually feels like he's pressed against me by wearing his briefs. I keep thinking that his dick and my pussy are rubbing together through the briefs. I'm wetter than before and the tingle between my legs has gotten unbearable. I slide my hand over my midsection and then down over the top of the briefs to rub against my aching sex.
I can't wait for a shower, I need relief now. I move to his bed and study the way he has folded the top end of the comforter so I can redo it when I'm done. Then I grab my phone, music still blaring, and pull back the comforter to slide into his bed. The effect is almost too much to handle; the coolness of his sheets against my legs, the strong smell of his hair and cologne filling my nose with every breath, and just the thought of being in his room and in his bed. I put my phone on his nightstand then arch my back to lift my butt and slide his briefs down my legs. I'm soaked. I maneuver his briefs under my butt so I don't leave any strains behind on his sheets. The fan is on full speed, and I spread my legs, enjoying the slight breeze that tickles over my wetness.
My music changes to a slow, sexy song; perfect. I close my eyes and just give in to the moment. My hands rubs and caress over my shirt, I squeeze a breast lightly, then run my fingers up and down my stomach and sides. Soon, it stops being my hands on my body and they become his. I flex my hips up at his invisible cock as his hands continue to excite me. I tell him how wet I am for him, how ready, how much I need him to take me. Instead of obliging fully, he kneels between my legs and I feel the tip of his tongue teasing my lips while my clit throbs for attention. He tells me how good I taste, how hot I am, then his mouth encloses my clit. I lift my hips up at him, needing more.
After long minutes of teasing he finally frees his cock from his briefs and holds it in his hand as I stare, my hips lifting on their own. The music changes again; Locked out of Heaven by Bruno Mars. He slowly enters me. I moan loud at his size. He whispers in my ear that everything's OK, and to relax. He knows I'm virgin and he goes slow I breath heavier, faster, moaning uncontrollably as he fills me.
A noise shatters my fantasy. My fingers deep inside of my soaking hole. I listen, but only hear the music playing. I grab my phone with my free hand and check the time. Still in the clear. It must have been my imagination or a neighbor. I set the phone back down and my fingers begin to slide in and out of me again. The smell of my sex mingles in the air with his cologne; it is such a wonderful scent. I pump my fingers in and out, gradually increasing the speed as my thoughts take me again.
He rubs my breast with his big hand, pushing himself deeper and harder inside of me. He groans, I moan in reply. Faster, deeper, harder. My hips lift up off the bed to meet his every thrust. He kisses me hard, groaning loudly into my mouth. I whisper that I'm so close, and to please not stop. He fucks me even faster. I cry out as waves of pleasure wash over me and take me. He slows down, his come dripping out of me, and we both ride out our orgasms until we are still once more.
I lay on his bed, feeling more satisfied than ever before. Yeah, I'm a virgin, but I know what my body likes and I know how to please it. I don't know why girls at my school are so into losing their virginity to high school boys; I hear the stories they tell afterward – no orgasm, awkwardness, the boy coming as soon as they're in. No thanks. I'll take my experienced fingers over that any day. But I bet Clint knows just what to do, what to say. He could probably take me to new heights. I moan then turn on my side and hug his spare pillow to my chest. I wish it was it was body so badly that I almost feel like crying knowing it will never happen.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
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