Scott’s mouth opened and twitched without a single sound. His confused leers between his co-worker and recent lover in said co-worker’s jeep left him unaware of where to even start.

“What… what the hell’s going on here?” Scott asked.

“Son,” Bill started, “you’ve gotta stay calm.”

“What’s happening?”

“Listen, you don’t want to alert your little lady inside, alright.”

“Bill?”

“Tell her you’ve gotta step out real quick and help me with something.”

“Bill, answer me.”

“Get your wallet.” Bill turned around and took three steps.

“No, I’m not going anywhere.”

Bill sighed, swivelled, squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them, then said, “Kid, you’re wife’s home, and you’ve got pictures and videos of another woman on your phone. Not to mention the fact that woman is parked right in front of your house. Let’s cut the crap and get a move on, alright?”

“Am I being kidnapped?”

“Are you being kid–” Bill turned to the side and pointed towards the jeep. “I’m not an expert, but I think kidnappers are usually a little more rushed. Now come along before your wife asks questions that you don’t wanna answer.”

Scott gulped, went inside for his wallet, told his wife goodbye, and exited. When he got to the jeep, he jumped into the seat directly behind Bill and glanced over at a smiling Frankie before looking into his lap.

“Hiiii, Scott,” she said. “Long time no see, huh?”

***

Facts state that frowning uses more muscles than smiling, and that day, Scott’s face received a full workout. The unexpected ride came with a rather unpleasant message:

“Pay us eight-thousand dollars, or your wife sees our video.”

His face remained double-palmed as they drove, and he muffled many utterances. Words that soaked into his palms like water puffing out a sponge. When he lowered them, his eyes were bloodshot and wet, ping-ponging back and forth between driver and front-seat passenger.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked.

“Don’t look at it as we’re doing something to you,” Frankie said. “See it as we’re doing something for you.”

“For me? You’re insane. And, Bill, how could you do this? I thought we were cool?”

“Kid, I like you and all,” Bill said, “but she’s in a bit of a jam. Even though she isn’t my favourite person in the world, she’s still family.”

“Family?” Scott asked. “It’s you that recorded us that night, isn’t it?”

“Scotty-Scotty-Scotty,” Frankie interjected. “It doesn’t matter who recorded it. What matters is that it exists. Now, as I was telling you before you got all emotional about Bill, the eight-grand isn’t coming without its goodies.”

“What the ever-lovin' fuck are you even talking about now?” Scott asked, waving his hands around with one eye squinted more than the other.

“What I’m talking about is the fact that you’re getting three pounds of weed, my friend.”

Scott racked backwards into the seat and shrugged his shoulders before saying, “Is that supposed to mean something to me? What-what am I supposed to do with all of that? Where am I even supposed to hide it? Why would I even care about… look, I haven’t smoked that shit since college.”

“So?”  Frankie’s expression turned to stone, removing the defiance from Scott’s face.

“An, so, I just don’t see why I should… should care, that’s all.” Scott looked down and cleared his throat.

“Scott,” Frankie said, “you’re going to withdraw eight-thousand dollars from your account and buy the fucking weed from us. I’m not talking about this anymore.”

“Bu–”

“I said I’m done fucking talking. Jesus, if I knew you were such a whiney little bitch, I would’ve never had sex with you. Look, there’s an ATM over there. Get out, get the fucking money and let’s get the fuck outta here, you lil wimp.”

They parked close to the curb and parallel to an ATM sticking out of a brick wall. Scott slid across the leather seat and slunk out before sulking his way over to the automated teller.

“Didn’t have to be so harsh on him,” Bill said.

“Fuck his feelings, Bill. All we should care about is getting that money, getting him that weed, and giving Dante his money tonight.”

Bill scoffed, and silence reigned until Scott returned with a large wad of cash and handed it to Frankie. She flicked through the hundred-dollar notes briskly, confirmed the amount, and they nosed out of there to collect his purchase.

***

The intention was to make the home visit brief. Frankie ran up the stairs, swapped the remaining product into another suitcase – purchased earlier in her visit – and came back down with it. Scott peered inside to ensure it all at least looked okay.

“Don’t you have something smaller I could carry it in?” he asked.

“Just go out to the jeep with it, alright?”

Scott stretched his mouth horizontally until he resembled a cartoon character. After he went out to the jeep, Bill started to follow when Frankie swatted his butt and half-smiled.

“Are you nuts?” Bill spun with fire in his eyes and whispered, “Scott’s close-by. What the hell’s the matter with you?

“Thanks for helping me out,” she said.

Bill relaxed his stance and replied, “Doing it because I have to.”

“Oh, come on, you don’t have to pretend. You can admit this is more fun than just watching T.V an entire day.”

“According to who?”

Frankie shook her head and strode to the jeep, jumping into the backseat this time. She pulled out a pack of king-sized wrappers, pre-rolled filters and a grinder. After instructing Scott to open one of the bags, she broke apart some of the weed and rolled it into a cone-shaped joint.

“Hey, sorry about before,” she said. “I was being a major bitch. Smoke this with me, alright?”

Scott nodded, and she lit it with her lighter. At five puffs in each, they leered at one another, smiled and smooched between the following puffs. Scott caressed the nape of Frankie’s neck as she took the last puff of the joint and flicked the filter into a bag.

“We should get him home, Frankie, don’t you think?” Bill swung the key and shifted from P to D.

“Yeah.” Frankie bit her lip while staring at Scott. “Let’s do that.”

They drove off, and the young lovers made out like teenagers discovering it for the first time. Grunts and groans bounced around the interior, and clothes disappeared amongst hair tussling. Bill allowed other vehicles to pass and checked the rearview mirror to see Scott lying against the door – one foot on the ground – while Frankie sucked his cock with her round ass elevated above her head.

“Hey, don’t mess up my goddamn seats.”

“Come onnn,” droned a red-eyed Scott. “Just… just Chilll, Bill.”

“Good one.” Frankie giggled, high-fived Scott, and resumed sucking the colour out of his cock. With her fist pushing down to its root, she gave slow licks; up, down, circular and cross-patterned. She cupped his balls, sucked them and then used both hands to jack him off – one palming the glans, the other right underneath.

“Fuuck yeaaah,” Scott said. “Woooooo.”

Frankie giggled again and slapped it against her jaw before saying, “Sit in the seat; put your feet on the ground. I wanna ride you.”

“Awesome, duude.”

Bill shook his head and cut the wheel left while grumbling. Behind him, Frankie planted her feet on the seat and lowered onto Scott’s cock before rolling her hips. The top half of his organ received this treatment while her moderately sized tits smothered Scott. Via Bill’s rearview mirror, two butt cheeks rumbled with Venus dimples deepening on every movement. Rolling adjusted to bouncing, and Frankie wailed, creaming the base of Scott’s dick and balls. Bill’s focus shifted more from the road to the backseat, and his middle leg stiffened and stuck to its left counterpart.

“Time to make you cum.” Frankie turned and rode Scott in reverse cowgirl, feet planted on the ground and sitting between his legs. She dug her nails into his thighs and stared ahead at Bill, who locked eyes with her every instant he glanced at his rearview mirror.

“Mmm, fuck yes, Scott. Fuck this tight young cunt, yes. This is the type of pussy you should be fucking, not your nagging wife’s. Look at that tight ass bouncing while you fuck me and cum inside of me.”

Bill swallowed, and slime slid between his cock and leg.

“I’m cumming, you little slut.” Scott grimaced and focused on her jiggling ass before exhaling in dry heaves. His jaw almost unhinged as Frankie’s cunt vacuumed the gooey content of his balls. After the tremors ceased, she sat all the way down and ground for the remaining drops, causing Scott to whimper. Her leers ever so lascivious always caught Bill when he peeped at the rearview mirror.

“You really came inside of me. Such a bad boy, Scott. What will your wife think?” She leaned back and kissed Scott’s jaw before rolling off, allowing semen to roll onto his lap.

“Like what?” Scott said, blowing a raspberry. “I’m high, don’t give a fuck and plus: You’re on the pill, right?”

Frankie winced and darted her eyes around.

“Wait, y-you’re on it, right?” Scott’s lids fluttered.

“Don’t worry about it, dude.” Frankie giggled and waved it off. “Better put your clothes on, you’ll be home soon.”

“Yeah, kid,” Bill said deadpan with raised brows. “Don’t want your wife asking more questions than she’s probably already planned to.”

“Uh, right.” Scott used wipes in the centre console to clean himself and began the process of becoming more presentable for his impending departure.

***

After settling business with Scott, they went straight home, and Bill crashed on his favourite couch. Frankie cackled at such scenery and chipped upstairs to her room while Bill sawed logs. When he reawakened, the moon’s rays replaced the sun’s warmth, but his lap seemed to sap some of the latter. Finally catching his bearings, the source revealed itself to be Frankie, bouncing off of his cock in reverse cowgirl.

“Hey, what…” he started.

“Ooh fuck, Bill.” Frankie looked at him, her face contorted. “I wanted this inside of me for so fucking long.”

Bill held her wiry waist and allowed her to do all of the work until the living room door flew open.

Amanda.

Frankie tumbled off to the side, leaving Bill’s prick to sling about as he sprang to his feet.

“Amanda, sweetie…”

“Shut the FUCK up, Bill!” Amanda lifted a fifty calibre revolver in front of her, full extension and pointed.

“Wait, baby, please just listen to me. I woke up and found her doin–”

“I don’t want to hear it. My daughter? My fucking little girl? I’m going to FUCKING kill you!”

Amanda squeezed the trigger, and Bill’s world faded to black before it re-lit with an explosion. His body acted as a mattress as Frankie lay prone on him, staring into his face and hardly blinking. Generic rock played at a low volume from the television and main menu options from her video game – Campaign, Multiplayer and Options.

“You’re sweating,” Frankie said, not breaking eye contact. Her chin rested on the back of her hands.

“Bad dream. I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Frankie.”

“Bill?”

“Get off of me.”

“Rude much?”

“Says the girl who made me do her bidding, or she’d rat me out to her mother. And was a brat all the way.”

“Why shouldn’t I have? You got yourself into that.”

Frankie pushed off of him and sat on the furthest cushion, allowing Bill to sit up and shake the cobwebs. He toddled to the kitchen and shook his head at the counter’s unwelcome visitor: the ice pick.

“You forgot to put away the goddamn ice pick again.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean it.”

“I think you do. Every damn time, I gotta tell you to put it away.”

A rapping on the front door cracked against their eardrums.

“Who the fuck is that?” Frankie mumbled.

“I don’t know. Keep quiet.”

Bill tip-toed and peered through the door’s peephole. A confused expression masked him as he backed away and glared at Frankie.

“Who is it?” Frankie whispered.

Bill pulled the door open, and there stood a young gentleman with slicked-back black hair, leather jacket, and side-burns. A furrow creased Frankie’s forehead, and she stood straight and then tilted her head.

“Dante? What the hell are you doing here?”