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cyb3rstvr · 7 months ago

Text

Stiff

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Or, your old man wants to knock you up. Viagra helps.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v (obviously 😵‍💫🤙🏼). Breeding kink. Age gap. Peepaw Joel. Blue Pill Joel. Post-apocalyptic-Viagra-dosage-gone-horribly-wrong-and-now-his-dick-won’t-deflate-for-a-day…but it’s OK!

Note: This is the crackfic counterpart/sequel to ‘Make It Stick’

Word count: 2.9k

Forty-five minutes.

Forty-five minutes until his fate was sealed for the night. His pulse would quicken. His head would start to swim, and any last sliver of rational thought would be lost to the ether or the cold, snowy air around him. Joel Miller had to hurry now, because that bite-sized blue pill he’d just taken was in his belly, and if his dick didn’t find its way in you, he was fucked. Or at least huge and swollen and leaking out beads of hot desire the size of golf balls.

Well, maybe that was just his cock.

Joel looked down, scanning his pants.

Yeah…definitely just cock. He walked faster.

At home, he knew he’d find you curled up on the couch, nose in a book. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, if he had to guess. Then, sure enough, you’d lift your eyes and smile—‘Thank goodness you’re back, daddy’—and lift the hem of your night dress just slightly. Spread your legs and beckon him in. It was a nightly routine by now.

You wanted to be knocked up as fast as possible, after all

At almost sixty years old, Joel couldn’t believe he was actually saying these words aloud. But here he was—crawling overtop you on the couch, situating himself between your legs, and pulling his cock out, mumbling:

“Gonna let me put a baby in you tonight?”

You nodded sweetly—eagerly—every time.

Joel knew he could never resist that look. He was as good as finished the first second you let him sink inside your tight, weeping hole, and when he stretched it, he could already tell this was all he would ever want to do. Make you happy, fill you up, give you lots and lots of him.

It was why he’d stopped by the apothecary tonight. Why he’d hesitated only a moment before clearing his throat and asking for a pill like Viagra—Joel knew that the man behind the counter would flash him a wry, knowing grin.

Trouble keepin’ up with that sweet young thing’a yours?

David was a dick.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Ever since agreeing to start trying for a baby, Joel had become acutely aware of his own physical limitations in that department, and one of them was stamina. He could scarcely fuck twice in the same night without needing a long and rest-intensive breather. You were young and could roll over ready to go in five minutes.

It wasn’t fair to deprive you now on account of his age.

If you wanted his cum, you were getting it, no question.

Not just once, but multiple times. Again and again and—

“Again,” Joel grunted once he’d shot off his last spurt.

Fifty-eight minutes had passed since he’d taken that pill. It had fully kicked in, and his dick was still hard, even after finishing inside you with a sticky, white-hot flood.

You blinked dreamily up at him.

“You mean it, old man?” you teased him lightly.

I’ll show you what I mean, Joel thought to himself before flipping you over on the sofa. He had your hips tilted up and his cock driving back inside your freshly-fucked cunt in no time at all. He felt his spend coating your walls; it let him glide right in. Joel groaned and jerked himself back out, then fucked back in again and again and again.

“Again?”

Your word was exhaled in a laugh.

You stood in front of the bathroom sink, trying to tidy up the insides of your legs and push some more of Joel’s load back in, when you felt a presence at your back.

Stabbing your ass.

You started to turn then, puzzled.

“Bend over,” Joel commanded before you could.

You did as you were told because, frankly, you loved getting fucked wherever your old man wanted it—even if he had broken the sink one time he’d pounded you here.

But there was palpable confusion, too. How in the hell had Joel Miller, certified silver fox and owner of a dick old enough to remember Woodstock and the moon landing, managed to get his dick hard in the five minutes since he’d had you face-down, ass-up on the couch?

Or had his dick gotten soft at all?

You wanted to question him about it, or else give a long, hard look at his uncharacteristically long, hard friend, when the next moment had you gripping the counter. Stretching between the legs as Joel pushed back in.

“There she is,” he murmured affectionately.

Really, you’d never been wetter. Or warmer. Or filled to the brim with more sticky-white spend than you could ever hope to hold inside, it felt like. You bent at the waist and let him have his fill. You closed your eyes and rested your head on your forearms while Joel’s hot, bulbous tip grazed your cervix with dizzying alacrity. A smile crept in.

Whatever this was, you wanted more of it.

His dick was still hard.

Four mind-numbing fucks and another forty-five minutes later, Joel’s cock hadn’t deflated the tiniest bit.

The thing had hammered you so thoroughly he’d nearly destroyed the sink again. You’d whimpered, and whined, and warned him quietly, ‘We just fixed the porcelain, baby,’ and right before he’d painted your walls with his seed, you’d cum for him practically shrieking. Shaking.

Letting him turn you around for a kiss, only to mumble against his mouth with a sleepy, cockdrunk sort of lilt:

“I think you gave me twins.”

Then he’d fucked you in the shower to make it triplets.

Now you were laying out on the bed, truly spent, eyes following him in the semi-darkness of your bedroom after you’d toweled off and collapsed among the pillows.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Miller?” you breathed.

Joel made it over to the dresser, back turned to you. He rifled through a drawer looking for something extra tight.

“Just missed you is all,” he said, shrugging.

What he needed right now was fabric that was very thick to hide the boner he was sporting. Joel could tell from the way you spoke that you were too tired for round five, and he didn’t want you feeling like you had to go again.

He would be fine.

His dick might not deflate until dawn, but that was okay.

“Wish you missed me like this every day,” you giggled.

When Joel turned around, he was shocked to find you sprawled out on the bed—hands between your legs.

There was a shy smile on your face.

“Baby…” he trailed off, watching your fingers flit through that sticky mess where he’d left it. Where you glistened.

Where you slid your index and middle fingers up and down your slit and drew circles on your clit, eyes shining.

“What? I missed you too,” you said, tone all faux protest.

You had no idea what you did to him when you talked like that. Especially when he was drowning in a state like this.

Hard as a rock.

Throbbing.

Needy.

Scarcely even knowing what he was doing, Joel found himself over by the foot of the bed in a second. Watching your every move with a wild, wipe-open stare he still couldn’t believe you found appealing. He swallowed.

He not only looked perverted, but he felt it, too. It rarely ever left his mind, save for the four or five seconds he spent in ecstasy emptying the contents of his balls inside your cunt, that he was his age, and you were yours. That perhaps the rest of Jackson was right, and he was wrong: he had no business being around a girl like you, much less getting off inside you every night. Was this really what you wanted? A bewildering mixture of guilt, lust, and love all circulated through his skull at that moment, and the longer he spent looking at your fingers, ogling the way you teased them through his cum between your legs, the more he felt certain he was bad.

No one corrupted a thing this sweet and got to call themselves good, anyway, he thought to himself idly.

“I keep gettin’ that…feelin’,” you said under your breath.

Joel’s hand tightened in a fist, and it was then that he realized it was wrapped around his cock. Still watching.

“Yeah, baby? What feelin’?” he returned, almost as quiet.

Still stroking himself up and down, up and down, softly.

You had your legs spread open—knees splayed wider than they’d been before. And your eyes had a tender, placid sheen to them, like they just might cry if they didn’t get release of some kind soon. Then you slowed.

Your touch slipped from your clit to the opaque, sticky globs between your thighs, and that look got even softer.

More desperate.

“Can’t…explain it.” You shook your head, as if pained, and then you sank two fingers inside. Joel could hear the tiny schlick from where he stood, and it almost did him in.

You sucked in a breath and added, “It’s a special feelin’.”

Joel’s fist had already worked its way up to a ridiculous speed. Again, he sensed this might be the worst and most pathetic he’d ever looked, but by the glint in your eyes and the way you kept holding him there, he also knew you weren’t asking him to stop, either. You were needing something else—something he could provide.

Thanks to that one stupid pill.

Joel’s smile was strained as he gripped the edge of the bed, like he was trying to assuage you and him at once.

“Try me, baby. Tell me ‘bout that special feelin’.”

Your middle and ring fingers disappeared inside you.

You whined, “Ain’t fair to say it now. You’re tired, daddy.”

Like hell he was. Joel crawled over the footboard and made his way straight to you, where your body was limp.

His breaths were coming in so fast and his pulse was thrumming so hard that he almost couldn’t hear himself talking. But he ventured to speak as gently as he could.

“I’m wide awake, sweet pea. I’m all ears. Talk to me.”

And if his words didn’t communicate as much, surely the look in his eyes would’ve told you all the rest. Quietly, he slipped his torso between your legs, where you’d inserted a third finger and were moving your hips again. You were fingering yourself, breathing shallow and quick.

“It’s a feelin’ like I wanna be…stuffed…a-and full’a you.”

Joel’s whole body could’ve liquified on the spot. His brain, presently, had all the consistency of a plate of scrambled eggs if he’d had to guess. Feeling his cock swell even bigger and his hips sink lower to yours of their own accord, he had only to grit his teeth and nod his head. He felt the tip of him bump your fingers, and the sensation and the expectation nearly drove him insane.

He mumbled quietly, “Then move your hand.”

You did. You winced again. You looked as though you might be ashamed for wanting him to fill you with his spend, and Joel simply wouldn’t allow that any longer.

Without saying another word, he slid back in.

Your cum and his facilitated the slide, and you opened right up for him. You whimpered, while Joel grunted like an animal. He couldn’t help it; it all felt so fucking primal.

How you could ever feel the need to apologize for wanting more of this was more than he could take.

“Every inch of me,” Joel said, rutting deeper, “is yours.”

He withdrew to the tip, and he could feel strings of arousal linking him to you in a sickeningly sweet way.

You could scarcely even nod, just waiting for him again.

When Joel plunged back in, he heard a feral little cry, and he felt your legs wrap around his waist. He went faster. You fisted the pillow behind your head in one hand, while the other laid flat on his chest, like you were checking for a heartbeat. You could probably hear it thudding a million miles per minute right now. Your hips collided in tandem.

“D— Daddy,” you whimpered.

“That’s it, open up for daddy. Good girl. It’s all yours.”

The sounds his thrusts were making were obscene.

“Every inch?” you breathed, “E-Every drop, too?”

“Every fiber of my fucking being, sweet girl.”

That made you smile, at length. Your hand slid from his chest, down his round belly, straight to a groin that was pounding hard and fast against your own. Joel groaned when he felt your touch sweep inside your legs—right in the space where his cum had come trickling out. You slid your fingers through that mess, then whimpered again.

Then you brought your hand up to your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around your cum-soaked fingers like they were the single sweetest thing, and you sucked.

Joel had no say after seeing that: he had to cum again.

It likely stunned you both—you more than him, by the look that crossed your eyes the second you felt him throb and pulse inside your cunt—but then it kept going.

Rather than stop, or slow down in the slightest, Joel found his hips pistoning faster than they had before. The whole bed frame shook, and your body trembled with every thrust, and the noises between your legs grew even louder; the sound of skin slapping skin was only amplified by the addition of Joel’s hot load in the mix.

The man was operating on impulse. You, through sheer awe and an animalistic need to have every crevice filled. You held him and you grit your teeth, and you let him keep using your body, while you used his. You kissed him.

“Go on, then—make me a daddy. Take my cum, baby,” Joel babbled, brainless, “Make your old man a daddy.”

He couldn’t tell if it were the words or the rhythm or the pleasure that had already been blossoming deep in your gut this whole time, but he felt you fall apart. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist than you had all night, and you screamed his name. Begged for more.

“Cum in me, daddy—pleasepleaseplease just cum, ju—”

And there he went. Again. Flooding your insides with his warmth and letting his cock carve a wild, relentless path through your cunt like it was all the man knew how to do. He filled you up. He felt it leaking down his length with every stab of his hips, and frankly, he didn’t care what he looked like now. You were smiling big, drawing him in for more kisses as he panted and grunted and whimpered like he never had before. He kissed back. Slowed down.

Found himself lost in your mouth as your tongue wove delectably through his own and your hands made their way to his wild, greying hair. You tugged, and he moaned.

He fucked his spend deeper without even meaning to.

All instinct again, it seemed he couldn’t get enough.

Suddenly, he felt a new, strange urge bubble up.

“I-I-I took a pill tonight,” he blurted out, “Know how badly you want this baby, and I wanna give you one.”

Or two. Or twenty. He was barely capable of speech, let alone rational cognition, so he just spoke whatever came to his mind then, still snug inside your legs and panting.

“A pill?” you whispered back.

Joel’s gaze locked with yours.

He felt stupid for it all at once.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just— I know I’m gettin’ on in years, and I probably can’t fuck the way I used to. And you deserve someone who can…Maybe a guy your age, but that—”

“—is the single dumbest thing you have ever said to me,” you finished for him, eyes narrowing swiftly in a scowl.

When Joel tried talking again, you cut him off.

“I don’t care what any guy my age is doing, or could do. I want babies with you, and that includes every part, OK?”

Your look softened momentarily, seeing his lips twitch down—you could probably see he wasn’t believing you.

Then you cradled his face in your palms. You smiled. You brushed his nose with yours, and you kissed him again, and with what little strength you likely had left in your body, you dug your heels in his ass and pulled him deeper. Both of you let out soft, low grunts at the effort.

“If you fucked like this at twenty-five, my body wouldn’t have survived anyway,” you whispered in reassurance. Biting back a laugh as Joel smiled, too, “I like things just the way they are. Just like how I hope you like me, too.”

“No—I love you.” Joel shook his head, almost plaintive.

And for the first time that night, he felt himself soften.

Whether it was the pill wearing off or that first thread of vulnerability stretching out between your body and his, he didn’t really care. He kissed the tip of your nose and was about to say something more, when you cut back in.

“I love you more. And since we’re being honest tonight,” you started quietly, nipping at your bottom lip a second, “I might…need you back at the apothecary tomorrow.”

Joel’s face fell.

“Wh— is something wrong, baby?” His voice was tight.

He hated seeing David, but, of course, he’d go back there in a heartbeat if it meant getting you the medication you needed. His stomach was starting to churn, when you reached up to hold his face again. You shook your head.

“No, no, Joel, I’m fine. But I may need prenatal vitamins.”

Now his eyes were going wide. His cheeks heated under your palms, and his cock twitched inside you, reflexively.

“You mean…” he murmured, unable to finish. Swallowing.

Beneath him, he saw you smile and nod.

He nearly choked hearing what followed:

“I meant to tell you earlier, but…my period’s a little late.”

6K notes · View notes

cyb3rstvr · 7 months ago

Text

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

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cyb3rstvr · 9 months ago

Text

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗶 𝗱𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗺𝗺𝗮 || klitz x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 || klitz is lucky enough to have some really great best friends. he should just be satisfied with that, but instead he can't stop himself from longing to be more than friends with you. the problem? well, there are a few. you're just friends. you're one of the hottest girls in school. the list goes on. some feelings are hard to ignore (and some biological reactions are hard to hide), though, when you show up to the beach looking like that.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 || 13.5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 || smut (loss of virginity, male masturbation, unprotected sex even though it's literally the opposite of the point of the movie, premature ejaculation (lol), semi-public/almost caught), mild angst?, pining, tons of fluff, the reader has a ~reputation~, slight OC with the readers family/characterization, reader and klitz are in high school, eli is a lil shit but we love him, the entire plot of the movie and the main character of the movie are ignored entirely lmao

the first part of this was already posted on my blog as a drabble but the rest is a (very long) continuation! if you are 18+ please enjoy and feel free to leave a comment or reblog to show your support <3

Do you know how impossible it is to hide a boner in swim trunks?

I mean, seriously— Klitz was worried if he looked at you for more than a second, there'd be a tent in his pants so obvious that Boy Scouts would start trying to camp under it.

"Hey, lookin' good," Eli praised you, and you laughed; he loved your laugh. Of course Eli could handle this, he watched so much porn that his dick was probably half comatose by this point, but Klitz was still an excitable 18-year-old with 20/20 corrected vision and a massive, secret crush on one of his best friends. (The female one, contrary to popular rumors).

"Oh, this old thing?" you dismissed as you laid down between Eli and Klitz on the towel. How was he supposed not to look at your legs, at your neck as you let your head fall back for a moment, at your tits gloriously displayed by the way you propped yourself up on your elbows?

"Somebody call Sports Illustrated!" Eli continued, and you shoved him on the shoulder playfully.

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes, he could just see it behind the massive sunglasses. You looked back at Klitz, who looked away the second you caught him.

"Yeah, uh," he coughed, "you look good..."

"Thanks," you smiled. "You too."

"Wha— me?" he returned.

"Yeah, him?" Eli agreed.

"You think you don't look good shirtless?" you raised your eyebrows.

"He looks like someone painted nipples on a white T-shirt," Eli frowned.

"Nothing wrong with being pale," you shrugged, "isn't that why we're out here anyways, for a little sun?"

"You think I look good?" Klitz repeated again, still processing what you'd said, feeling his face heat up from more than the beginnings of a sunburn.

"Uh, yeah," you scoffed. "Is that so mind-blowing?"

"It's not his mind that's the issue," Eli noticed, "I think he's worried about blowing in his trunks."

"Hey!" Klitz shouted defensively, but it came out all weak and wobbly and he had to clear his throat.

"Really?" you smiled proudly.

"Yes," Eli insisted.

"No," Klitz denied.

"Whatever, I'm going for a swim," you announced, standing up in front of the towel— giving him a painfully wonderful view of your ass, by the way— and jogging towards the shore. Eli and Klitz watched you dive into the ocean, before the former gave his friend a knowing look.

"What?" Klitz asked.

"Dude," Eli began firmly, "this is ridiculous. You need to just go for it."

"I... no, I shouldn't," Klitz decided for the thousandth time. "She's great, but she's our friend, and if I messed it up it would be so awkward between all of us—"

"You won't mess it up!" Eli insisted. "She's into you! Give her the D!"

"Okay, that's... kinda not what I'm talking about," Klitz frowned, "you're missing the point."

"What other point could there possibly be?!"

"I'm out of here," Klitz groaned, standing up and walking towards where the water vacillated on the shore.

At the end of the day, as the sun was going down and Klitz collapsed into his bed after a much-needed shower, he closed his eyes and saw you first thing. The way you smiled when you laughed, every curve and detail of your body in that damn bikini, your skin dripping with ocean water that reflected the sun like glitter...

His skin was still warm from the leftover heat of the sun, the slightest tint of a tan visible when he compared his stomach to the line on his hips where the trunks had covered. Somewhere across the neighborhood, you were probably in the shower now, untying that string at your back and letting the water wash the sand and salt off your skin.

Out of instinct, his hand was already wrapped around his cock, imagining the way you would wash your hair, run your hands all over your skin— did you touch yourself in the shower? He wasn't even sure if girls did that... sure, they probably do it sometimes, but maybe not in the shower— maybe lying in bed, like this, with your legs spread and your back arching up off the baby pink sheets he remembered from the last time he was in your room. He could just imagine how good you would look with tan lines across your hips and back, around your neck and down your chest... he could trace them all with his tongue, he could hold your thighs open and hear you moan while he tasted you.

His cock was throbbing in his hand already, and he stroked himself faster.

Just as he was really getting into it, his phone rang. "Shit," he blurted out, startled, as he let go of himself and fumbled around on his nightstand for the cell. "What?" he answered flatly when he saw it was Eli calling.

"Am I interrupting something?" Eli said, voice tainted with his grin, and Klitz coughed when he realized he was audibly panting. "Listen, I know you wanna see those pictures I took at the beach."

"I'm good," Klitz dismissed.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do just fine on your own, Romeo," Eli insisted, "but you're gonna wanna see these. I mean, you know she's basically like my sister and I'm still working on half a hard-on over here."

"Dude, that's disgusting," Klitz grimaced.

"Hey, I'm not creeping or anything, she asked me to take these," he recalled; and yes, you had, posing for him and everything— though you had rejected some of his more salacious ideas. Klitz almost laughed to himself as he remembered Eli trying to talk you into posing on your hands and knees. Like a lion, you know, you can snarl and stuff— it's empowering! he'd justified. "I just figured you'd want some of these moments preserved in more than just your memory," Eli explained.

"I mean, we got like, pictures together and stuff, right?" Klitz remembered. "I might want a copy of those."

"Yeah, of course, I've got a best-of compilation of all your hoverhand moments," Eli scoffed, "those aren't the ones I'm talking about. I'm talking about spank bank material— really good stuff."

"You're awful, you know that?" Klitz reminded him.

"You don't want me to email these to you then?"

"No, send it," Klitz sighed.

"Atta boy," Eli grinned, clicking 'send' right away. "All yours, pal, go nuts. Good luck looking her in the eye tomorrow."

"Yeah, I've somehow managed it for the past three years," Klitz mumbled before hanging up; he sat up on the edge of his bed, pondering the level to which he'd sunk for just a second before he got up and crossed the room to his computer. Eli's email had already come through. Subject: You're welcome. 16 attachments.

He sighed and got comfortable in the chair as he opened the first one. Even before he touched it, his cock flexed at the sight of you lounging back on the sand; somehow, he'd managed to forget just how little that bikini covered, just a few pink triangles covering the key parts, two over your tits and one slipping down between your thighs. He clicked to the next one, all but whimpering to himself seeing you laying on your stomach, kicking your feet up, laughing at something Eli had said. Your ass looked great, but he was looking at your smile the most. He wished you'd been laughing at one of his jokes instead, that was the best feeling in the world. Maybe second best, to when you hugged him and he could feel your body against his own...

The next one was taken in the water, you were bending over slightly to reach for something— that curve in your back, that's what he would run his hand over, up and up on his way to grab your hair and pull it back as you moaned loudly for him, begging him to fuck you faster. He'd push your shoulders down, making you bend over even more, he'd hold your hips and tell you how perfect you were.

You were running in the next one, and your legs looked so good he could cry; he could kiss his way up them slowly, until you were so desperate that you grabbed his head and shoved it right into your pussy, and he'd eat you out until you cried.

Klitz, don't stop— you feel so good, you're so good at this— I've wanted this for so long...

He was already ridiculously close, and there were still 12 pictures left. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get through them all before he made a mess all over his hand.

Your tits looked amazing in the next one, it was obvious they were what Eli had been trying to photograph, but he still got plenty of your face in the shot. Klitz jerked off faster, imagining coming all over that chest and face, pulling the bikini top down and out of the way so he could finally see what he'd been dreaming about for years. He didn't just want to see them— he wanted you to show him; he didn't just want to touch them, he wanted you to ask him to, to moan quietly as he did it, to ask him to put his mouth on them...

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he gasped out loud, because it made it easier to imagine your voice in his ear, encouraging him. I'm close too, please don't stop— Klitzy, you can come inside me, if you want, just don't stop!

The next picture was the best one yet; he was in it, and he usually hated seeing himself in pictures, but you were hugging on him and he was laughing and the way you were looking at him... it made him wonder, for a second, if you could feel the same way about him. Because it looked just like the way he thought he looked when he looked at you.

He remembered when Eli took that picture, he remembered how your skin felt on his and how he wished he was brave enough to wrap his hand around your waist— he remembered the next one before he clicked to it, he saw you kissing his cheek as he blushed so hard it was turning his forehead pink; Eli, being the unwanted wingman that he was, had told you to kiss him for the picture, it was your choice to go for the cheek, but Klitz was on cloud 9 either way. Maybe if he was more of an asshole, he would've turned just in time to catch your lips with his— but then again, if he was an asshole, you'd probably not be his friend. He might just be one of the guys you went out with for a few weeks and then cried on Klitz's shoulder about. Believe it or not, Klitz preferred being this guy, the guy stuck at his computer jerking off as he imagined you. He might never get to touch you the way he wanted, tell you everything he wanted to say or make you feel as amazing as he knew you really were... but at least he could make you happy. You were laughing in the picture, after all, and you looked so beautiful.

He choked out your name as he came suddenly, much harder than he anticipated, eyes shut tightly as hot liquid started to run down over his fingers...

When he caught his breath and opened his eyes, your picture was still on his computer— and there was jizz all over his keyboard.

"Fuck," he groaned, looking around for tissues or something; he settled for a dirty t-shirt on the floor, and made a mental note to himself to insist to his mom to do his own laundry this week as he wiped up the mess he'd made.

Just then, his phone beeped with a text message, and he picked it up to see your name with a heart beside it.

I had fun today :)

He was still trying to come back to reality, and avoid the impending guilt for his ulterior motives. I had way too much fun today, he imagined replying, if he were more honest.

Me too, he sent back instead, Eli's pictures turned out great

you saw them already?? jealous!

He hadn't meant to give himself away like that... Ask him to send you the best ones, Klitz suggested to you. He set his phone down to keep cleaning up the embarrassing scene, but you replied quickly

all he sent me was the ones of us together with the title "hottest couple at westport high"

Klitz swallowed thickly when he saw that, wishing Eli would back off and let Klitz handle his crush on his own timeline... he was still only two years into his five-year plan— you can't rush art! LOL Klitz replied, hoping to keep it casual and vague.

too bad we're not a couple :( you sent back... Klitz wrinkled his eyebrows together when he read that, not really sure what you meant. Did you mean like, too bad we can't be a couple because we're such good friends? Or were you just kidding? He read it a thousand times in four seconds, trying to figure it out, until you sent in one more text.

yet ;)

Oh, that’s it— right there! Harder! Fuck me harder!

His hand was a blur over his cock, his eyes shut tight, his whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat and starting to get pins and needles. He was so close, so fucking close, and the image of you was right there in his mind— you wore his favorite skirt of yours today, the tight one that showed a glimpse of your thighs when you crossed your legs. Right now, he was busy imagining that skirt rolled up to your waist as you bounced on top of him, head tossed back in a cry of pleasure. While his free hand clutched at his sheets, he was thinking about both his hands running up your legs to grab your hips, moving you just how he wanted.

“M’gonna come,” he warned with a gasp, bucking up into his own hand.

Yes, Klitz, he heard your voice in his head, I want you to come— come for me, baby, come inside me—

“Ohhhhhh my god,” he choked, whimpering slightly as the pleasure hit him suddenly and sharply, right in his gut; he slowed his movements down as he came, sticky spend coating his length as he panted like he’d just run a marathon. His face was hot as hell and probably beet red, but it always got like that when he came hard thinking of you and felt that guilt sink in a second later.

He was so sure you’d freak out if you knew he did this… you’d think he was such a creep, and really, you’d be right. You’d stop being his friend, you’d stop hugging him, you’d stop talking to him— you’d definitely stop sending him cute texts and joking about how it’s too bad we aren’t a couple.

Groaning, he covered his face with his arm. Why did you have to say stuff like that, were you just trying to drive him crazy? You were doing it more lately, and he kept laughing it off awkwardly every time you did it— what else could he do? But those texts, he hadn’t stopped thinking about them since you sent them two days ago; well, he hadn’t stopped thinking about them until he saw you in that skirt today. And then he was only thinking about that until just now.

Right at that moment, his cellphone rang. Of course it was you; just his luck. He cleared his throat, guilt swelling in his chest, and grabbed the phone to flip it open and answer. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it very far into that plan when he noticed his hand was still covered in come and he’d smeared it onto his phone, now, too. Grimacing, he pulled away and found a tissue box by his bed (like any prepared high school boy would have) to start wiping it all up. Just before it would’ve gone to voicemail, he got enough of it cleaned up to answer while he quickly tried to clean the rest from his lap.

“H-hey,” he greeted thinly.

“What took you so long to answer?” you wondered.

“I was in the backyard, sorry,” he bluffed.

“Oh, well, have you finished the term paper yet?” you asked.

Yes. “No.”

“Great! I thought maybe you could come over and we could work on it together?” you suggested. “I’m just, like, totally stumped on how to write a good conclusion paragraph.”

“I’ll come over right away,” he offered, “i-if that’s okay…”

“Yeah, totally,” you hummed happily.

He loved being able to walk to your house. It could be a bit of a nuisance in the middle of the night when he was randomly compelled to run over and throw rocks at your window and tell you everything; it could also be a nuisance when you came to his room, sneaking in through the window looking for some trouble to get into. But overall, he enjoyed having you so close, just across the neighborhood, and it made studying together like this really easy.

When his cell started ringing in his pocket, halfway into his walk, he pulled it out to see it was Eli calling.

“What’s up?” Klitz asked when he answered, still walking as he talked.

“Wanna come over?” Eli asked. “I got this great new tape I’ve been meaning to show you.”

“I can’t, I—” Klitz began, darting his gaze around his view of the neighborhood and hoping to come up with a good excuse by the end of his sentence.

“You’re going to her house again, aren’t you?” Eli sighed.

“Yeah,” Klitz admitted.

“I thought you said you were gonna stop doing that so much until you got over her," Eli recalled.

"That was the plan, but then…" Klitz trailed off.

"Then?"

"Then she asked me to come over," Klitz groaned, hearing Eli's exasperated cry from the other end of the line.

"Dude, seriously," Eli scoffed, "you've gotta stop being such a simp!"

"I'm not a simp, she's my best friend," Klitz insisted.

"No, I'm your best friend, she's the girl you've been in love with since we were freshmen and still don't make a move on," Eli corrected.

"I can't just make a move! You know I have no chance with a girl like that— I wouldn't even know how to make a move, I don't have any moves."

"Either get over her or get under her, man, but I can't listen to you whine about this anymore," Eli decided. "She's kinda slutty, isn't she? Why don't you just ask if she'll sleep with you?"

Klitz swallowed thickly. Yes, you had a bit of a reputation. He didn't mind that; he didn't like that people spread rumors about you, but he wasn't surprised by it anymore either. He knew that you acted like you were fine with that attention, even wanted it, but that you'd really gotten your feelings hurt a few times. And, he knew that if he asked you to have sex with him, assuming he had a chance solely because you were known to put out, you'd hate him because you were just like all the guys who used you and tossed you away. He wanted so much more than just your body, if he didn't he wouldn't have stayed your friend so long.

He remembered when you hooked up with Tate Winters because he said he broke up with his girlfriend, only to discover it was a lie when his not-ex wrote SKANK on your locker in permanent marker. The school janitor tried to clean it for hours, which only brought more attention until he finally gave up and just painted over it— and then nobody could forget it happened until the "wet paint" signs were gone. And as if that weren't enough, apparently Tate's best idea to get back on his girl's good side was to tell the whole school you had a loose pussy and secretly stuffed your bra. You tried to laugh it all off at school but when you and Klitz were alone, you cried for hours. He held you until the shoulder of his t-shirt was totally soaked and you just fell asleep.

"She's not a slut," Klitz corrected Eli firmly.

"Well, I don't know what else you call it when a girl gives it away more than the fuckin' Salvation Army," Eli joked.

"She's… a little adventurous," Klitz conceded, glancing at the house he was walking by and noticing the garden had a new ceramic gnome, "but that doesn't mean she wants anything to do with me."

"You won't know until you try," Eli pointed out. "Just wait until she does something stupidly-hot— which you know she will at some point because she's always doing that kind of stuff—"

That, he did know.

"And then just let her know you're down to clown!" Eli finished, like it was an obvious sort of solution. "I mean, if she sleeps with all those guys—"

"She does, that's exactly my problem," Klitz replied. "She's got all this experience and I'm a virgin. She likes guys who actually know what they're doing."

"Tell her you wanna learn from the best," Eli suggested.

"That's weird," Klitz frowned.

"Tell her you have a terminal disease and your dying wish is for some pussy," Eli offered instead.

"That's so much worse," Klitz shuddered.

"Whatever— honestly, it's really your own fault now," Eli scolded. "She's not just gonna fall in your lap, Klitzy, you gotta go for it."

"Hm, I think I'll just keep doing nothing and die alone, but thanks," Klitz decided.

"Okay," Eli sighed defeatedly, "but I'm telling everyone at your funeral that you had a chance not to be a virgin forever but you were too afraid to do anything about it."

"Appreciated," Klitz grumbled, hanging up just as Eli started to warn him that you would probably bring a super hot new boyfriend of yours to his funeral. It was just in time, too, because Klitz was just then turning off of the sidewalk to make his way up the path over your front yard right to your house.

Still holding onto his backpack’s strap on his shoulder with one hand, he leaned forward and knocked on your door which opened a second later.

“Oh, hi there, Timothy!” your mom greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, Mrs. S,” he nodded in return, suddenly noticing she was wearing a nice dress and jewelry. “You… look lovely, is it a special occasion?” he asked, afraid it would come across too forward, but she laughed in a flattered sort of way and he was relieved.

“You’re such a sweetheart— we’re just going out to dinner,” she explained, the other half of the ‘we’ already obvious before your dad showed up beside her. “Honey, Timothy’s coming over to work on that term paper she mentioned—” she began to inform him.

“Riiiight,” your dad nodded as he recalled something you must have said to them. “Good to see you, Tim,” he offered even though nobody called Klitz ‘Tim’, and when he extended his hand for a shake, Klitz almost reached out but suddenly hesitated. He’d only had time for a Kleenex wipedown, not a real wash with soap and water, since he’d busted all over that hand thinking about this man’s daughter. But he wasn’t sure he could get out of it, and so, with a suppressed cringe, he shook your father’s hand with as much enthusiasm as he could feign. Kill me kill me kill me—

“Come on in!” your mom offered, stepping aside for him to enter the foyer, which he did. “She’s upstairs. Help yourselves to snacks if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” he nodded to her as they started to step out the door. “Enjoy your dinner!” he offered with a wave.

“Such a polite young man…” he heard your mom’s voice trailing off just before the door shut on its own; Klitz sighed. Your parents liked him, which would be a boost to his chances to date a lot of girls— but not you, the chronic rebel. For the most part, you were well-behaved as far as teenage daughters go: he’d never seen you get wasted at any parties and you got good grades and everything, it was just all the guys you dated… he figured your parents must not know about most of them or they’d be a lot stricter with you. Wouldn’t any good, old-fashioned suburban parents freak out if they knew their daughter had gone out five times with a guy who inexplicably has had tattoos since sophomore year— or if they heard that rumor (which he happened to know was true) that you and Jake the quarterback had hooked up in his dad’s truck?

Bounding up the stairs, Klitz navigated to your room where he found you laying on your bed, on your stomach with your head propped on your hands and your feet kicked up and swinging slowly. Eli had shown Klitz some foot fetish porn once, at which point Klitz had sworn he did not have a thing for feet— which was true, except that the day after that he’d noticed you were wearing platform flip-flops and had your toes painted with a flower shape on them and there was a silver bracelet around your ankle (you informed him sternly when he mentioned it that it was an ‘anklet’ not a bracelet) with a sun charm and, well, he still didn’t think feet were actively sexy, but if anyone had sexy feet, it was you. And there they were, lackadaisically swaying in the air— your toes were painted today, too, and instead of an anklet you had a toe ring on, and he could help but imagine what it would be like if you ran your foot up his leg—

When you noticed him in the doorway, you smiled up at him and slid shut the magazine you were reading. “Hey,” you beamed.

“I thought you were working on your paper,” he remembered with a frown.

“I decided to wait for you to get here,” you laughed as you sat up on your bed. “And, you know, I was checking to see if this Seventeen issue was going to give me any inspiration to write about the War of 1812.”

Klitz just smiled and rolled his eyes, sitting down next to you on your bed at exactly the moment you suddenly stood up.

“Ugh, you know that thing where you can go all day acting fine and then suddenly the tag on your shirt is trying to kill you?” you sighed, and Klitz nodded in agreement. You were more sensitive to that kind of stuff than he was, but he get what you meant. “Anyways, point is, I’ve been wearing this stupid top all day and I can’t focus.”

“Okay,” he mumbled; he liked that top, it was tight enough to show off your figure but not so tight that he’d be tempted to get jealous. Best of all, it had words written in sparkly lettering across the chest, which gave him a socially-acceptable reason to look at your boobs for three seconds when he first saw you at school this morning.

“I’m gonna get into something more comfortable, m’kay?” you explained, but he didn’t understand that you meant literally right here and now until you started to lift your shirt. He looked down with wide eyes, swallowing thickly as he saw your tanktop land on the floor… and then your bra right beside it. Jesus fucking Christ.

He stared at the floor so intensely that he felt like he was about to burn a hole all the way into the living room below. He couldn’t stand it when you did stuff like this— well, he loved it, but he hated it, too. You were right there topless and if he had a bit more courage and a bit less respect for you he could just look up and see you. But even just knowing that you were stripping in front of him made his cock twitch, so he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool if he actually saw anything.

You walked to your closet and rifled through some things, apparently settling on something because he could hear you pop it off the hanger and slip it on over your head. He didn’t look at you until he was absolutely sure it was safe, which was when you plopped down next to him and made the mattress bounce a little. It was a forest green hoodie, with yellow letters across the chest: YALE.

“H-hey,” he choked, “isn’t that mine?”

“It was,” you grinned cheekily. You were wearing his clothes, you were wearing his clothes, this was like his biggest dream and worst nightmare coming true at once. He knew this image was going to burn in his mind and he was already looking forward to his next chance to jerk off to the thought of it; it was like every domestic fantasy coming true, his dream girl in his hoodie—

“I thought I lost that,” he laughed nervously.

“You did, and I found it,” you shrugged. “I meant to tell you that you left it here but, then I forgot… and I’ve been wearing it as pajamas.”

You were sleeping in his hoodie. You were, like, 90% of the way to being his girlfriend at this point, except for all the key parts such as liking him back and kissing him and letting him take you on dates and stuff. Maybe he should just be happy with this— after all, somewhere out there are plenty of guys wishing you were wearing their hoodies right now and not Klitz’s, right? Actually, probably half the guys at school would kill to be here right now, in your bedroom, on your bed, watching you cover your hands with the ends of the sleeves.

Difference is, some of those guys actually have a chance with you.

“You’re not, uh, dating that insanely ripped dude anymore, right?” Klitz stammered out.

“Who— Frank? God no, he was a creep,” you rolled your eyes, “which, like, yeah, I kinda knew going into it, but I guess I thought he’d lighten up a bit. But he was so rude and like, pressuring me and stuff…”

Klitz tried not to react to hearing that, but he hated to imagine it so much.

“I mean, I’m no virgin,” you scoffed, “not since the summer before junior year, but like, back off, you know? He was always bitching that we couldn’t do it at my place.”

“You couldn’t?” he realized, a little relieved that he wasn’t sitting on the bed where you and Frank might’ve banged.

“I’m not allowed to have guys in my room,” you explained.

“Uh, I come over all the time,” Klitz noticed, “your dad literally just let me in here.”

“Oh, you don’t count,” you mentioned in passing, and Klitz sighed in defeat; he was such a non-threat that your parents basically forgot he was male. How comforting. “Anyways, I dumped him because he was annoying and dumber than a box of rocks.”

“Those seem like good reasons,” he mumbled, not really sure what to say. If he sounded too congratulatory, he might seem creepy himself, so he wanted to stay semi-neutral.

“I think the next guy I date has gotta be smart,” you decided suddenly. “Like, not necessarily an intellectual, definitely not condescending about it, but smart. And nice.”

Smart and nice— would you also be willing to accept scrawny and pathetic with permanently sweaty palms?

“And no more guys who go to the gym five times a week, I don't care what anyone says, that's not indicative of sanity," you added.

Wow, I can only bench forty-five pounds, guess I'm your dream guy! If only I wasn't so… me.

"Anyways!" you chuckled, exhaling with a hint of exasperation. "This paper… where do we start?"

"Well, what do you have so far?" he asked, and you pulled your paper up to read aloud.

You cleared your throat before you read dramatically: "In 1812, the War of 1812 began."

This is gonna be a long night…

He was pretty sure he blacked out for a second when you hugged him that tight. He laughed nervously when you pulled back, still resting your hands on his shoulders. “Yay!” you smiled wide. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I finished the paper this early! Thanks, Klitzy.”

“Oh, sure,” he shrugged, and you took your hands away even though he wasn’t done memorizing the way they felt yet.

“And it’s only 8:30,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “my parents probably won’t be back until 10. Wanna stay longer and, like, hang out? Ooh, we could put on a movie,” you suggested. “We’ve got popcorn and stuff.”

Sometimes you put your head on his shoulder when you watched movies together. “Sure,” he agreed quickly. “What should we watch?”

“How about you go microwave the popcorn and I’ll pick something out,” you decided, and Klitz gave you a thumbs-up in approval of your strategy.

A couple minutes later, Klitz was in the kitchen watching the bag rotate and inflate inside its little food prison, while you were on your knees going through your dad’s movie collection. You’d shown him where to find a bowl for the popcorn when it was ready, and he carefully pinched the bag by the edges to open it and start dumping it out into the plastic container.

When he carried the bowl back into the living room, now full of nutritionless high-sodium deliciousness, he found you bent over to push the tape into the player. Clearing his throat, he let himself only glance for a second, except that when he got to the couch to sit down, your ass was literally at eye-level directly in front of him. You were still wearing that skirt, too, and it was riding up as you bent over to show the back of your thighs; lord have mercy…

When the movie started to play, you grabbed the remote and hopped next to him, sitting just a little too close to him in the most painfully perfect way.

It was a scary movie, he could tell by the music even though it had just started. He just hoped he didn’t humiliate himself by screaming like a girl or something. He reached for a handful of popcorn at the same time that you did, and your fingers brushed against his inside the bowl. Jesus, was he really this sensitive that that would turn him on? At least the bowl in his lap would hide anything—

“Stop hogging it!” you giggled as you pulled the bowl away, but you yanked too hard and some of the popcorn spilled out onto his lap. “Oh, fuck, sorry…”

You started to brush the popcorn away, running your hands all over his pants as he sat there frozen. Do not move a fucking muscle Klitz, he commanded himself internally. Wow, your hands on his thighs felt amazing; he had to fight not to shudder visibly.

“Gosh, I’m kind of a hot mess tonight,” you sighed, “at least popcorn doesn’t stain.”

Grabbing a final remaining white puff from right on top of his fly, you gingerly popped it into your mouth and smiled.

She’s eating your dick corn, man, go for it! the voice of Eli appeared independently in his head.

Ew, what? his own internal voice replied.

As the movie went on and the popcorn bowl was depleted and discarded, he managed to mostly pay attention and not get too distracted by how pretty you looked lit only by the dim blue glow. The movie itself was pretty boring, not too scary, but it did have some gory parts that made him cringe as you covered your eyes. However, over time, both of you were drawn into the suspense— the shadows, the tense music, the promise that the killer was lurking just behind the corner— and when he jumped out of nowhere brandishing a chainsaw, you both jumped a bit and then laughed at each other.

“You’re not scared, are you?” you asked.

“No,” he assured. “It’s creepy, I guess, but not like… scary.”

“Ooh, you’re so tough,” you teased with a poke to his ribs, and he moved away with a laugh.

“Stop,” he whined softly, laughing harder when you poked him again. “You know how ticklish I am, don’t mess with me!”

“Knowing how ticklish you are is exactly why I wanna mess with you,” you explained, poking him repeatedly on the shoulder.

“Yeah? Well, I know how ticklish you are, too,” he warned you, “and I’m stronger than you, so, you might not wanna start something you can’t finish.”

“Is that a threat?” you raised an eyebrow, reaching for his ribs again, but he grabbed your wrists and started to tickle your legs first. You cried out in delight and tried to fight back, but the more you laughed the easier it was to pin you down and dig his fingers into your ribs or stomach. “Stop, stop!” you begged through laughter so hard it brought you to tears, and he finally relented— he knew from experience that you would not hesitate to kick him anywhere you could reach to get him to stop.

There was a second right after he stopped, and right as your smile started to fall, that he realized how… sexy this whole thing was. Maybe it was just because it was you: your inherent hotness could make anything sexy, you could probably scrub a toilet sensually if you needed to. Still, a guy on top of a girl while her parents aren’t home, a movie on the TV, tickling each other… any other guy and girl at school and it would probably end differently. But, he knew you and he knew himself and he knew how this story was going to end: a chaste hug goodbye, a scream into his pillow, and his dick in his fist while he whispered your name.

He awkwardly maneuvered away from you, and you sat up straight again just to scoot closer one more time. It was peaceful again, for a while— he kept imagining putting his arm around your shoulders, but other than that it was fine— until another jumpscare on screen shocked you both.

You yelped and buried your face in his chest; he willed his heart not to beat faster, in case you could hear it, but it didn’t work… even he could hear his own heartbeat now, it was throbbing in his ears as you cuddled up into him and clutched at his shirt.

He couldn’t understand why you did this stuff— was it just a joke to you, hunting for sport? It seemed like you knew he had a crush on you, Eli had probably given it away with his aggressive attempts to wingman, and now you were, what, toying with him?

“Protect me,” you whimpered, and he knew then that you were fucking with him, and after three years he decided he’d just about had enough. Frustrated, he grabbed the remote and paused the movie, standing up briskly to force you to peel off of him. “What’s wrong?” you asked from behind him on the couch, and he just sighed.

“I— maybe I should go,” he said suddenly. “I have to work on my paper, too, you know.”

You stood up then, standing next to him, looking right at him. You looked so hurt. This was why he never stood up to you, because he hated seeing you upset— and knowing he’d hurt your feelings made his heart break. But at a certain point, he needed to defend himself. “Klitz, seriously, don’t go,” you breathed, “it’s dark and I’m gonna be all freaked out after watching that movie, you can’t leave me alone—”

“Are you making fun of me?” he blurted out, turning away.

“What?” you pressed. “Klitz, I don’t—”

“Can you just stop?” he winced. “I get it, I’m not like the guys you go out with, you don’t have to… rub it in. And you don’t have to make me feel stupid for having a crush on you.”

“Wait, hold on,” you interrupted, grabbing his shoulder and turning him to face you, “start over. You do have a crush on me?”

“Yeah!” he yelped. “Obviously!”

“I didn’t think I was your type,” you explained.

“My type? You know you’re gorgeous,” he stated plainly, “everybody knows.”

“Oh,” you smiled shyly, “that’s… not true, but it’s sweet.”

Klitz waited for a second, not sure what to say; you weren’t rolling your eyes and telling him to get over it, I was just being funny— you weren’t apologizing and admitting you went too far, either.

“Eli said some stuff before, it made me wonder if you really liked me or if you were just being nice,” you admitted. “And then we went to the beach together and… well, you looked really cute in your trunks…”

He blinked at you, speechless, and waited for this to all start making sense. You clearly meant cute like a puppy or baby— girls had called him that before, and he knew it wasn’t really a compliment when they said it like that, it was demeaning. How could his ‘cute’ compete with your beautiful?

“And honestly I’ve been into you for ages but I didn’t want to say anything,” you rushed, covering your face with your hands like you were embarrassed to say it. “God, I mean, we’ve been friends so long and I just didn’t want to mess anything up if you didn’t feel the same way—”

“Is this… huh?” Klitz asked in a mumble.

“Klitz,” you sighed, dropping your hands and stepping closer, looking up at him. “I like you,” you explained, “like… you know, not just in the normal friend way. Wow— sorry, I’m really not good at this, usually guys ask me out so I don’t have to do the whole love-confession thing.”

He gave you a wide-eyed look, and you seemed to realize what you’d said.

“N-not that I’m in love with you!” you rushed. “I mean, I’m not saying that I’m not— I’m just not saying that I am. Because that would be an insane thing to say— damn it, Klitz! I was trying to make it obvious so I wouldn’t have to say all this and you still ignored me!”

“What do you mean, ‘make it obvious’?” he repeated.

“Like, changing in front of you and putting on a scary movie and suggesting we go to the beach just so I can wear a bikini I bought because I thought you might like it—” you enumerated.

“I just thought you were teasing me,” he coughed; why was it so hot imagining you trying on bathing suits, looking at yourself in the mirror and wondering if he’d think you looked good? You could’ve worn a trash bag and he would have thought you looked amazing, but the bikini was still a nice touch.

“Klitz, that’s flirting, I was flirting,” you clarified with a frown. “You were so immune I thought you were just trying to let me down easy.”

“I’m not immune,” he admitted, “I’m just… incredibly stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” you insisted, stepping closer again and grabbing his shirt, tugging until he looked at you sheepishly. “Klitz, you’re super smart, and funny and sweet, and you’re so good to me— I just didn’t want to lose what we have, you’re my best friend. But I’ve been, uh, kind of thinking about you all the time for a while now. And I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Finally getting over himself for a few seconds, he grabbed your face and kissed you first. You tasted like lip gloss and minty gum, and when he took a deep breath in and kissed you harder, he could smell your shampoo. Best of all, he felt you smile against his lips; he hadn’t kissed a girl since 9th grade and she had braces and smelled like zit cream— not that he could really blame her for that, everybody looks awkward in 9th grade— but that had been pretty underwhelming and this was everything he imagined kissing was supposed to be. You melted a little and leaned your head back, opening your mouth wider: did you want him to put his tongue in your mouth? He hoped so, because that was what he was going to do— slowly at first, until you nodded slightly and he really went for it. He wasn’t sure how to be good at this, so he tried to not do anything too adventurous so he’d at least lower the risk of being actively bad at it.

You were really good at this, though; so good he was trying not to have too strong of a reaction… but it was tricky when you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer, humming contentedly into the kiss. Were you always like this? He knew you’d dated quite a few guys, he’d had the privileged honor to see you make out with a few of them when they were particularly obnoxious and had to show you off in the middle of the cafeteria. Then again, he’d do the same if he could. If he was currently capable of remembering anyone else in the world even existed right now, he would happily kiss you in front of all of them.

Tugging him back with you, you pulled him onto the couch as the kiss went from demure to desperate in seconds; the feeling of his weight pressing your body into the sofa cushions was already incredible, and then your arms wrapped around him and your hands started to slide up his back and it was like you were in complete control of his body. He didn’t mean to moan your name but it just slipped out, he was trying not to get hard but it was impossible to avoid, and he couldn’t even stop himself from moving his hands lower to rub your legs.

Speaking of your legs, they spread when he touched them, slowly and sensually exactly like he’d dreamed it. Groaning lowly, he slid his hands up higher to where that skirt was wrapped around your thighs and ventured far enough to push it up slightly.

“I want you,” you whispered, and it was so incredible that it jarred him out of his trance; he pulled back and looked down at you, his best friend laying there beneath him on the couch, just waiting for him to take you…

“Hold on,” he shook his head, “I— I don’t think we should do it like this.”

“Huh?” you sighed, sounding a little hurt.

“No— I mean, I… I want to,” he assured, feeling his face heat up a bit as you stared up at him, “I just— I wanna, like, take you out and stuff. Like, we can go to dinner, or catch a movie— we can go to that drive-in you wanted to check out—”

“Fuck that,” you grumbled as you roughly pulled him down into another kiss, needy and sloppy with your fingers tangling into his hair.

He whimpered when your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer until he couldn’t hide that he was hard anymore; it was grinding up against you, and you moaned at the feeling— and Klitz realized that this might be the first time in his life he was supposed to have a boner.

“We’ve been waiting way too long to do this,” you explained as you broke the kiss to start tugging his shirt up over his head. “I can’t wait until after a date, I need you right now— please?”

You were actually asking him, like he was doing you a favor; stunned, he simply nodded and finished taking his shirt off before he kissed you again. When you broke the kiss again, he was only disappointed for as long as it took him to realize you were lifting that hoodie of his up— he hoped his face wasn’t as idiotic and dumbfounded as it probably was while he stared at your boobs, buuuuut he didn’t really have the brain power to care. You were struggling slightly to get it off while still laying down on the couch; maybe it would’ve been smoother if he tried to take your top off for you, but it was so sexy watching you do it— you wanted him to see you, you were undressing just for him. It was so perfect that it was probably just a dream but he didn’t mind as long as he didn’t wake up.

“You can touch me,” you whispered as you tossed the balled-up hoodie away, and he certainly didn’t need to be told twice. With a small gasp at how genuinely perfect you were, he grabbed your tits— as gentle as he could manage, of course— and bit his lip while he kneaded them in his palms. You moaned softly, closing your eyes, and he took a second to study your face before focusing his eyes again on your gorgeous chest.

He remembered a few times that your nipples had gotten hard enough to poke through your shirt— at school, at late-night study sessions when you were already in your pajamas, or at the beach when the cool breeze blew and that little bikini did nothing for you— and he’d imagined what they might look like based on their silhouette through fabric. They were better than he could’ve thought, and they were getting harder between his fingertips. Unable to resist, he bent down and captured one in his mouth, hearing you moan louder as he swirled his tongue around it. How could your skin taste so good? Did you use frosting as lotion or something? Wow, that was an oddly erotic mental image…

Moving across your chest to the other nipple, he suckled harder until he heard you gasp out his name. That had to mean he was doing something right, right? It was certainly encouraging, and made his cock throb inside his pants.

Licking a long stripe up your chest to your neck, he heard you giggle and felt your fingers tug lightly on his hair. “Klitzy, fuck,” you sighed, “you’re— you’re not how I thought you’d be…”

“Really?” he hummed against your skin, loving the way you writhed under him when he kissed just under your ear, or right where your neck met your shoulder. He would be so content spending the rest of his life memorizing your body to find those spots that made you moan and whimper.

“Yeah, I— I thought you’d be shy, but you’re so…” you trailed off with a wistful sigh. “I mean, you’re really sweet, but you’re driving me fucking crazy, too.”

He sat up a bit so he could look down at your face. “In a good way, right?” he hoped.

“Yeah, in a good way,” you smiled, grabbing one of his hands and moving it down your body. “I want you to touch me,” you explained, spreading your legs even more beneath him as you moved his hand up your skirt, “I want you to feel what you do to me.”

Panting like he’d just run a marathon even though he’d just been laying on your couch all night, he kept his eyes trained on your face as his fingers slipped into your panties and explored the silky-smooth folds of your pussy.

“Oh, you’re… you’re really wet,” he noticed, and you smiled wide. How can it feel this good just to touch it?

“Mhm,” you agreed, biting your lip. “I always get like that when I’m with you.”

“Fuck, really?” he choked, and you nodded. “Oh, wow… I wish I’d known that. Actually— maybe it’s better that I didn’t. I would’ve lost my mind.”

You were so warm that he was losing his mind anyways— he couldn’t even imagine how you would feel around his cock, even though his brain really wanted him to try. Were you really about to go all the way, tonight? It was sudden, in a sense, but then again he’d been quietly in love with you for years, so… maybe it was actually kind of slow.

He made an embarrassingly high-pitched noise when your hand suddenly slipped down to rub on the bulge in his pants.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, losing his focus on touching you and needing to grip your thigh just to stabilize himself.

“I knew you’d be big,” you mumbled to yourself as you started to open his button and then unzip his fly. His dick was fighting to bust right out of his briefs, and you reached down to hold his balls in your palm through the fabric; a massive shiver ran up his spine when you gently dragged your nails all the way up from there to the very tip of his cock, and he couldn’t stop himself from shakily whispering your name.

Looking much too proud of yourself, you sat up a bit and started to pull his pants and underwear down until his cock bounced freely and proudly— Klitz himself was less proud, not necessarily embarrassed but definitely a little overwhelmed at the feeling of your eyes on him. He realized that no one else had really seen him naked, and thankfully no one had seen his erection before (though he’d had a few close calls while jerking off due to parents allergic to knocking first). It was mildly terrifying, but he was soothed to say the least when you bit your lip at the sight and looked up at him with wide eyes. You looked impressed, and he decided he would remember this moment anytime his confidence ever faltered: he had no reason to doubt himself ever again because there’s a massively hot girl looking directly at his cock and staring up at him like she’s seen something incredible.

“Jesus, Klitz, what were you doing hiding this monster from me all this time?” you smirked.

“I-is it really that big?” he wondered, sure you were just flattering him.

“Of course it is,” you insisted.

“I mean, I’ve seen porn and stuff— it seemed kinda… normal to me,” he shrugged.

You laughed out loud, and he felt his cheeks warm up a little more as he wondered what he’d said wrong. “Klitz, ‘normal’ for porn is absurd for real life,” you explained. “I mean, the women in those movies, are their tits ‘normal’, or are they huge?”

“They’re definitely bigger than most— ohhhh,” Klitz nodded as he realized what he’d somehow failed to put together. Porn was his only exposure to other dude’s dicks, so how was he supposed to know?

“You really thought this was average?” you chuckled, squeezing his shaft just enough to make his balls tighten up. “Baby, you’re hung.”

He couldn’t help but beam proudly at that. “Oh… really?”

You smiled back at him with a nod, starting to stroke him slowly. Your hand was so soft, your fingers so nimble and delicate, and the way you stroked his cock was much too slow but just right to keep him desperate and needy.

“Oh god,” he sighed as he started to rock into your hand, shutting his eyes tight and hearing you giggle a bit.

“How does that feel?” you asked gently.

“It feels so much better,” he blurted out, under his breath.

“Better than what?”

“Better than when I do it to myself,” he continued with a tilted smile. “Which is impressive considering I have… a lot of experience.”

“How often do you jerk off, Klitz?” you wondered coyly, and he knew he had no shot to lie to you with you looking him right in the eye like that.

“I don’t know,” he stalled for a moment, “maybe twice a day? Sometimes more…”

You hummed, leaving it sort of ambiguous if you thought that was disturbingly high or not, but he was in no position to backtrack and pretend it was less while you had his dick in your hand. You lightly ran your fingers up the length of his cock and back down again, teasing him until he struggled not to whimper aloud. “Do you ever think about me?” you asked, almost sounding shy— like you were afraid he would say no. What the fuck else would he think about?!

“Always,” he choked out, voice wavering when you twisted your hand right as it moved over the tip of his cock— there was precum running down already, smoothing your movements and making everything all sticky and slick.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” you sighed.

“You don’t think it’s creepy?” he pressed.

“No, I mean, I couldn’t judge,” you shrugged. “I do it too.”

He blinked quickly. “You do?!”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I lay in my bed at night, I spread my legs, I smell that hoodie I stole from your lock— I mean, that you left in my room…”

You were still stroking him slowly and carefully, but with you talking like that he honestly thought he could come right now— but if he did, it would spray all over your face and chest, which should’ve been a deterrent but somehow just made it even more tempting.

“I imagine how you would sound when I put your cock in my mouth,” you continued. “I fuck myself with the end of a hairbrush, just to feel full—”

“I-I don’t know if I can take this,” he stammered.

“Get down here, stud,” you giggled as you laid back on the couch again, grabbing his arm to pull him down on top of you. You kissed him again, and he delighted in the feeling of his bare chest against yours— and then moaned when he felt his cock press up against your pussy, sliding over the slick lips when he involuntarily rocked his hips.

“Can I…?” he asked, trailing off.

“Can you… what?” you teased, and he tried to ignore his repressed upbringing for a second to not be embarrassed to say it.

“Can I make love to you?” he whispered, and you smiled wide.

“Oh,” you sighed bashfully, “I thought you were gonna ask if you can fuck me.”

“I mean,” he choked, “that too— I guess…”

You nodded; he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think the odds were better than not that you would say yes, but he still breathed shakily in response. Reaching down between your bodies, he grabbed himself at the base to guide towards your hole— one of the benefits of having seen some porn before this was actually having a pretty decent idea of where everything was. He shivered as he pressed his cock up to your opening, shutting his eyes for a second to compose himself.

“Are you, uh… are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “are you?”

“Definitely,” he promised. “I just sort of can’t believe this is really happening…”

“Me either,” you smiled, “in a good way.”

“You… know I’ve never…” he began, but you nodded again.

“I know,” you whispered, “I wanna be your first— if you don’t mind.”

“N-no, not at all,” he replied, “this— this is all I ever wanted…”

And there it was, right in front of him: one little push of his hips forward and he was going to be inside you. What if it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, what if sex is actually pretty lame? What if the moment he does it, he suddenly realizes he’s actually gay— is that how that works? What if he screws it up and you never talk to him again? What if he’s patient zero for some terrible STD you can only get from virgins, what if your pill suddenly stops working and you get pregnant, what if—?

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up and resting your hand on his cheek; it soothed him, and he sighed as he looked down at you and forgot every anxious thought in his head. “You okay?”

“Never better,” he promised, and maybe the timing was kinda wacky but he finally did it: he held your hips tight as he pushed into you, immediately feeling the wind knocked out of him. You were… tight, and warm, so warm— and smooth, but also sort of not considering the ridges of your walls that created this addictive friction on his cock…

You were perfect, in short. And as he pressed his hips up to yours, he knew for certain that this wasn’t a dream or a coma fantasy or a Total Recall-type situation— this was real. Nothing had ever been this real before.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, head dropping back on the couch. “Fuck, Klitzy— you’re so big…”

He couldn’t stop himself from starting to move already, even though he heard you hiss in a breath like you were still getting used to it. It was just too good and his body was running on instinct now, something primal and natural and slightly delusional.

You moaned again, louder, and held his shoulders tightly. “You feel so good,” you whispered.

“You do too,” he managed to find the brainpower to whisper back. He heard you whimper when he moved a little faster, already chasing this high that felt so incredibly in reach and he just knew it would be perfect— he couldn’t slow down, he’d never needed something like he needed this. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “yeah, oh god, don’t stop— you’re just the biggest I’ve ever—”

His cock throbbed before you even finished your sentence. “D-don’t talk like that,” he hissed, “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to last—”

“It doesn’t matter,” you promised, “just come, fuck, I wanna feel your come in me, Klitz.”

And that was how Klitz lost his virginity to you and came in literally eight seconds. As his face burned incredibly hot at the realization that he’d blown his load in less time than it takes to flip a pancake, he sighed and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out instantly, “fuck, I— I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” you breathed, “hey, it’s fine— it’s… really hot, actually.”

“Shut up,” he groaned.

“No, really!” you insisted. “It’s sexy, Klitz— fuck, you’re so sexy…”

Okay, at this point his prevailing theory was that he’d encountered a genie some time today, who granted his wish to transport him to an alternate reality where his gorgeous best friend suddenly thinks he’s super hot, but also erased his memory of making the wish in the first place. Except, if he’d done that, he would’ve also wished to be a sex god who made you come so hard you gained mild omniscience during your dozen consecutive orgasms— and instead he was just a two-pump chump who couldn’t even return the favor after you made him feel so incredible. So he was back to square one again.

“Hey,” you said again, softly, lifting his face so he would be forced to look down at you. He stared into your eyes, and he felt you in his arms, and he was still inside you— and he wondered if anything could ever be this perfect again. “It’s really okay,” you promised, “you’ll last longer next time.”

“There’s gonna be a next time?” he realized, and you nodded happily.

“I mean, I hope so,” you smiled. “If you want to…”

“But I was bad at it,” he pointed out.

“Sex is like literally everything else— you get better with practice,” you explained. “And I think we’re gonna have to practice a lot… you know, just to really get super good at it.”

He just couldn’t help himself; “Wouldyoumaybewannabemygirlfriendorsomething?” he rushed out.

“Huh?”

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “I was just asking if you might want to be my girlfriend. A-and I could be your boyfriend.” He added the last part just in case you were about to suggest that some other guy could be your boyfriend instead— not that you would do that, but Klitz wanted to be really really sure. You smiled up at him and his heart was like putty in your hands.

“I’d love to,” you beamed. “Actually, I kinda thought I already was… what, with you coming in me and everything…”

“Y-yeah, there’s that,” he mumbled, smiling nervously.

He turned his head when he heard a noise outside, it was hard to describe— sort of crackly like TV static? He figured out what it must be when he saw your eyes go wide in shock: an electric car on a gravel driveway. Specifically, your dad's electric car on your house's gravel driveway.

"Fuck!" you yelped, both of you dashing to get off of each other and find your discarded clothes. Klitz was trying to get his mostly-still-hard dick back into his pants, which was a bit of a struggle, while you rolled your skirt back down and tried to turn the hoodie right-side out again.

He was still looking for his shirt— why did he have to toss it away so dramatically, was he going for distance or something? — when he heard a key in the door and thought his heart might fall out of his ass.

You found the shirt just in time and tossed it at him unceremoniously, giving him just enough time to navigate which limb to put in which hole as he fell down onto the couch beside you and with about a nanosecond to spare, you two were posed like a couple of chaste little Bible study kids, sitting next to each other with your hands in your laps and friendly smiles on your faces.

"Hey guys, how was dinner?" you asked your parents sweetly.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. S," Klitz waved at them.

"Hi sweetie," your mom cooed at him. "Dinner was lovely, honey— how'd your paper turn out?"

"We… finished it faster than I expected," you answered, and Klitz nodded in agreement.

"Were you watching a movie?" your dad asked.

"Yeah," you nodded, "hope you don't mind us borrowing your tape—"

"No worries," he assured. "How was the movie, was it good?"

"It was amazing," Klitz replied.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you smiled shyly, clutching your hands together as the two of you stood outside of your front door.

"Yeah," Klitz agreed with a contented sigh. He didn't think he'd ever seen you looking so… demure, maybe even innocent. It might've just been an aftereffect of having to play it cool in front of your parents just now as they told you about their dinner and asked Klitz a bunch of questions about how his parents were doing and Yale and stuff.

After giving him a split second of a mischievous smirk, you pushed him back against the door and slammed your lips onto his, kissing him hungrily. Okay, so definitely still not innocent…

You pulled away sooner than he would've wanted— he wanted to kiss you for hours, really— and placed your hands on his shoulders gently when he tried to chase your lips with his own. You looked around for a second as you stepped back, making sure no one was nearby before you reached under your skirt and pulled your lacy panties down your legs; you stepped out of them gingerly and stuffed them into his pocket with a grin.

"Something to remember me by, hm?" you offered.

As if anything could ever make him forget this.

Holding tightly onto your panties in his pocket, he walked home on a cloud. He whistled, he'd never whistled as he walked before.

The tune stopped only when he stepped inside his own house again and found Eli at the kitchen bar, happily chatting up his mom who greeted him quickly while she cleaned up after dinner. “Oh, hey Eli,” Klitz nodded; Eli was the type to show up unannounced, this wasn’t anything new, but it was more surprising when he’d been in his own head the whole walk home.

“Hey, Klitzy,” Eli returned, smiling. “I was just stopping by because my mom told me to bring your mom some book about yoga or something— but she said you’d be home soon…”

“I figured you wouldn’t be out too late if you were just studying,” Klitz’s mom pointed out, seeming to have a slight ulterior motive with the statement. “You seem to go over to that girl’s house a lot—”

This is normally the part where Klitz would defensively say she’s just a friend, Mom and she wouldn’t really believe it because she loved her son too much to properly understand that a guy like him and a girl like you wouldn’t get together. Of course, that wasn’t really as true now as it was the last fifty times, but he also didn’t want to immediately blurt out that you’d just become his girlfriend because, well, for one, it was a little pathetic to tell his mom that just a few minutes after it happened. Secondly, she’d probably ask questions Klitz was not at all in the mood to answer. Thirdly, Eli was here, and maybe it wasn’t the right time to tell him, either; and, finally, if his mom knew you were his girlfriend and not just his best friend, she’d probably start coming up with new rules about curfews and doors left open and bla bla bla— the last thing he needed was any obstacles to get to you now that he finally had what he’d been dreaming about for years.

“We’re really close,” Klitz finally decided to say, and that seemed to satisfy his mom enough to dismiss the two boys to Klitz’s room.

“I told you, I don’t wanna watch your tape,” Klitz began as soon as they were alone, sitting down on his bed with a sigh as Eli made himself comfortable in the chair by the desk.

“No no— I’m not gonna make you watch anything, I didn’t even bring it,” Eli promised. “I really was just here to deliver the book, and I figured I could say ‘hi’ and ask you how the study session went.”

Klitz sighed slightly, looking away. Truth be told, Klitz wanted to tell Eli what happened, and he never imagined not calling his best (guy) friend first when he lost his virginity. But he never imagined he would lose his virginity to you— okay, he actually imagined it a lot, he just never thought it was an actual possibility— and as a result now suddenly had to consider the repercussions of blabbing about it to Eli. Wouldn't it be wrong to kiss and tell, especially considering some bad experiences you'd had in that regard? Especially considering Eli knew you and cared about you?

“Uh, it was fine,” Klitz shrugged, “we finished the paper— and I already did mine before I got there. Have you, uh, finished yours yet?”

“Almost,” Eli answered, “just need to figure out how to do the thing in Word that makes it all spaced right— do you know how to do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll show you,” Klitz offered, making a move to cross the room to his computer so he could demonstrate rather than try to explain it in words.

The thing was, while Klitz had decided he wouldn't tell Eli what happened while he was at your house, apparently fate had other plans. When Klitz stood up just then, he didn't even feel something fall out of his pocket.

"Dude— are those panties?" Eli mumbled, pointing to the lacy black thong on the bed. Klitz scrambled to grab it and stuff it back into his pocket, but it was too late. "Oh my god, Klitzy— how did you end up with a thong in your pocket?"

"I-it doesn't matter," Klitz stammered, feeling his face heat up.

"How could it not matter?!" Eli sputtered. "Who gave you those?"

"Nobody!"

"Did you take them?"

"No!"

"Are— wait," Eli stiffened up and cleared his throat, "are… those yours?"

"Are you asking me if I wear a thong?!"

"I mean… I'm gonna try not to be judgmental," Eli offered, "to each his own, right?"

"No— no!" Klitz denied. "They're, well… I just got back from—"

"Oh, shit," Eli seemed to figure it out, "did she— did you— are you guys—"

"Something happened," Klitz offered.

"Dude, you know I'm not gonna be satisfied with that," Eli rolled his eyes. "You don't have to tell me everything, just tell me what base you went to— first, second…?"

Klitz waited, and Eli's eyes widened.

"Third?" he continued, quieter, amazed when Klitz still said nothing. "H-home run?!"

Slowly, Klitz nodded, and Eli yelled emphatically like he actually was at a rowdy baseball game. "Shh!" Klitz hissed. "My parents are downstairs!"

"Sorry, I just— I'm so happy for you, man!" Eli beamed. "I can't believe you two finally fucked!"

“We made love to each other,” Klitz corrected, his face burning hot enough to cook an egg.

“Oh shut up, that’s gay,” Eli rolled his eyes.

“That’s gay?” Klitz repeated. “Me, a hot-blooded American teenage boy, having sex with a beautiful girl, is gay?”

“Whatever,” Eli rolled his eyes, which was the best he could do to admit obvious defeat in an argument. “My point is— good for you, man.”

Eli sunk his shoulders down slightly, suddenly getting a bit more serious.

"I know I mess around with you a lot. And I know I was pretty hard on you for not going after her for so long… but it's just because I knew you'd be good together— and I knew she was into you, I just couldn't get either of you to realize it!"

"Huh," Klitz said as he narrowed his eyes, "you know, you're more perceptive than I thought, Eli."

"Tell me everything," Eli demanded.

"You just said I didn't have to tell you everything," Klitz recalled.

"I changed my mind— I need to know now," Eli decided. "Just… tell me what it's like."

"What, sex?" Klitz wondered, sighing when Eli nodded quickly. "Uh, well, it's sort of hard to describe…"

"People always say that," Eli rolled his eyes.

"It's… it's like," Klitz searched for the words. "It's like a hug? But… wet."

Eli grimaced slightly. "That sounds kinda gross."

"But it's not," Klitz insisted, "and— and when she looks up at you it's like nobody else has ever existed. I never really felt like a man before that."

"And you do now?"

"Uhh, mostly," Klitz sighed. "I'm still, you know, me."

"What did her tits feel like?" Eli grinned.

"Okay, you're done," Klitz rolled his eyes, standing up. "Go home, show's over—"

"No, wait, come on," Eli pleaded, "just one more thing— just tell me one more thing! Are you gonna do it again?"

"I asked her to be my girlfriend, and she said yes," Klitz smiled slightly. "So, yeah, I really hope so."

"That's perfect," Eli announced. "You two are gonna be so good together."

Klitz's chest warmed because, yes, you were. Somehow he was sure of that, uncharacteristically unworried that it might all go horribly wrong. This was you; things always went right for him where you were involved.

Thankfully, Eli respected his privacy enough to leave not too long after that, on the condition that they find time at school tomorrow to talk more about how it all happened. The moment he had the room and house to himself again, Klitz collapsed onto his bed with a dreamy sigh, equal parts exhausted and energized— it’s a difficult feeling to describe, but he was all shaky and his head was spinning and it was euphoric. She’s my girlfriend, he kept saying to himself until he really believed it. Part of him was afraid to go to sleep in case the universe returned to normal tomorrow; really, he just didn’t want today to end yet. He thought about texting or calling you, but what would he say? Would it be too cheesy to admit he missed the sound of your voice?

Deciding to just take a much-needed shower instead, Klitz finished the rest of his nighttime routine and slipped into bed— normally, he would hope to dream of you that night, even if it left him with a sticky situation to clean up in the morning. But now, it didn’t matter as much, because he was going to see you tomorrow and his mind was overwhelmed with the possibilities of how it might go. Yes, a small fraction of his mind forced him to imagine that you’d pull him aside in the hall to say it was a mistake, that you two should just be friends again, but he didn’t really expect that after everything you’d said. He couldn’t decide if he was going to kiss you as soon as he saw you, or wait for you to do it first. Would you want to hold his hand in the hallway or be more discreet? Would you let him take you out on a date this weekend, or were you going to be impatiently desperate again? (Not that he was going to complain either way.)

Eventually, he realized that thinking about it was useless and that the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner tomorrow would come and he could see for himself what would happen when the two of you reunited. But he had one more thing to do tonight before he could fall asleep: wrap those panties around his cock and jerk off to the memory of how perfect you were.

He did last longer next time, just like you said he would— fifteen seconds, rather than eight. He’d even jerked off beforehand to try to increase his time but the way you looked up at him as he slid inside you, biting your lip and begging him to fill you as deep as he could go… yeah, he barely got a chance to gasp out something about how beautiful you are before he totally lost it. In his defense, you really did your best to drive him over the edge as fast as possible. You brought that upon yourself, really.

Then there was your genius idea to fool around in the school library, in that one section nobody ever goes to except to do this— you managed to avoid getting seen by any teachers or the security guard, but a junior did catch you two just as he was starting to reach up under your shirt. It should’ve made you both jump away from each other and try to act casual but Klitz doubled down; he wanted every student in this school to see this, if they could— see him and his girl, because honestly, they might have to see it to believe it.

He wanted them to see that you’re so obsessed with each other you can’t even wait until school lets out; he wanted them to see that you don’t just let him touch you under your shirt, you beg him to, and moan his name when he obliges.

Admittedly, he kinda didn’t want them to see when he came in his pants from said library excursion… but whatever, you didn’t mind— you were still insisting you were into that, and he was going to stop trying to convince you otherwise.

Instead, what most of them saw was the two of you sitting closer than normal at the lunch table, his arm around your waist or your head on his shoulder. Eli liked to tease you two about it sometimes, but thankfully for the most part he was just the same as usual. He was pretty supportive— if anything, a little too supportive, considering he liked to ask invasive questions and even ‘jokingly’ floated the idea of a threesome, to which you ‘seriously’ agreed just to freak him out and prove he was all bark and no bite.

In a moment, all of Klitz’s most common dilemmas were gone: it was okay to be turned on by something you were wearing, and he didn’t have to hide it anymore (except to prevent you from teasing him more and giving him a problem he couldn’t solve until he got home from school); he was allowed to look at you, and hug you and kiss you, without worrying if he was being weird; he no longer tortured himself with the possibilities, the fantasies, the anxieties, and just enjoyed being your boyfriend, maybe more than anyone’s enjoyed being my boyfriend before you told him once.

Instead, he had a new dilemma: how was he going to ask you to prom?

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