Chapter 17 #2
I don’t know, but I find myself going along with him.
Maybe there’s a part of me that’s curious about cigarettes.
It’s such a no-no among kids my age. It’s so old-fashioned and stupid, and we’re all aware of how it can hurt your athletic performance.
I have wondered what attracts people to it.
It stinks, it’s bad for you, and it stains your teeth.
It has to feel pretty good for people to do it at all.
Stupid thinking, I know, but I’m eighteen, not twenty-eight—you can’t expect maturity.
We go out to the little enclosed area where the trash cans are stored, and he hands me a cigarette.
Thanks to the cold, I can’t smell the garbage.
I nervously hold the cigarette to my lips while he lights it, telling me to inhale.
If you’ve never had a cigarette, well, don’t.
It tastes foul, and I’m coughing loudly enough I worry we’ll wake up my mom and Devin.
Once I’ve taken a few more drags and my eyes have stopped stinging, I do feel something.
It’s like a mild warm feeling, a slight zing of energy or something, but it’s nothing to write home about.
Brandon finishes his cigarette first, having taken deeper and more frequent drags than me, and I toss what’s left of mine onto the pavement when he does.
He smashes both with his feet, since I’m wearing my house slippers.
I turn to go back inside, but he takes hold of my forearm, his hand sliding down to cuff my wrist. He’s breathing harder than he should be.
“I like when you try things with me,” he says.
Why does that statement make me feel good?
I don’t react when he herds me against the wall and starts kissing me.
The taste of him is tobacco-heavy, his tongue probing my mouth like he’s trying to search out its every secret.
I’m dropped into a mishmash of conflicting emotions like someone plunging through ice into a murky lake.
I’m shivering from cold? From want? From fear?
I don’t know, but my nipples are hard, and my heart is thundering in my ears.
The kiss is brutal, and my adrenaline spikes, edgy excitement fighting arousal for dominance. His kiss hurts, and it’s making me wet. Why am I so fucked up?
Brandon breaks the kiss and licks my cheek like an animal.
He wraps my braids around his fist and tugs my head back, baring my neck to his kisses.
His mouth scalds my chilled skin. He nips on my ear firmly enough to cause pain and I stifle a yelp.
He yanks my hair downwards harder until I’m forced to my knees.
I stare up at him, looking like a giant from this angle, his pale face glowing bright in contrast to the black of his hair and clothing. The damp concrete is cold under my knees and rough.
“Take me out,” he whispers, releasing my hair, and I comply, unbuckling his belt with stiff fingers and easing his zipper down.
I reach into the opening and fish him out, the engorged shaft resisting the motion.
Seeing him up close for the first time I’m flummoxed.
His size is unimaginable, so huge that I want to laugh hysterically at the thought of it fitting inside me, and it’s still growing, getting stiffer.
I take it in both hands, caressing the velvety soft skin with my curious fingers.
“Kiss it,” he commands. His voice is breathless, his touch gentle on my face.
I hesitate. There’s a mix of asking and telling in his tone, and I don’t like being bossed around.
But my curiosity wins out. I lean in tentatively, my tongue flicking out and lapping at him, tasting him.
He’s sweet, and clean, with undertones of sea salt body wash from a recent shower.
It’s not gross like I thought it might be.
I think I like it. Brandon groans above me and pushes my head downwards, forcing me to take more of him into my mouth.
I suck on the head, eyes watering, then back off for air before repeating.
He smells strong here—soap and musk and the all-consuming scent of arousal that fills my lungs, making me dizzy.
I use both hands to stroke his shaft, working them in time with my lips, trying to please him.
His cock is too big for my mouth, but I do my best, focusing on the tip.
Brandon’s grip in my hair tightens as he pushes himself further into my mouth, his hips rocking in a primal rhythm as he fucks my mouth.
His breathing escalates, and he grunts and groans above me, the noises he makes only heightening my confusing arousal.
Suddenly, he grips the back of my head and pushes himself so deep he hits the back of my throat. My gag reflex kicks in, and I start to cough, spitting out his cock and gasping for air.
“My bad,” he says, stroking the back of my head. "Is it too much?"
I shake my head, struggling to catch my breath, a brief coughing fit seizing my lungs. As soon as it’s over, he tips my head back, examining my face.
“Open your mouth,” he says. It’s not phrased as a question, but somehow I know that if I wanted to stop, he’d be fine with that. I don’t want to stop, though. “Stick out your tongue. As far as you can. Don’t look away.”
Eyes locked on mine, he lays the tip of his cock on my tongue. “Suck.”
I close my lips around his glans and suck, using my tongue to tease the underside of his cock. He pulls me forward gently, just far enough to fill my mouth, but not enough to make me gag. My jaw aches from the strain. He fists his cock and pumps the shaft, like he’s jacking off into my mouth.
“Eyes on me,” he says, when they start drifting closed.
It’s intense feeling him in my mouth while we stare into each other’s eyes.
I can see his pupils dilate, the flaring of his nostrils as his breathing gets rougher.
His fist speeds up, just missing my lips on each downstroke.
I feel him swell in my mouth, taste his essence as he gets closer to orgasm.
His jaw tenses and his erection jumps, blasting jets of seed into my mouth.
I’m not prepared to swallow, but there's so much it fills my mouth until it spills down my chin and wets the front of my pajamas.
He lets me go and I spit, finding the taste unlike anything I’ve had before. It’s salty, with notes of bleach, and I don’t think it will ever be my favorite thing.
He helps me to my feet and kisses me on the cheek.
“Thank you. That was great.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing. I choked.”
“You did good. It’s so hot how into it you were. I want to make you feel good now.”
“You don’t have—“
“Can I touch you?” His gentle tone surprises me. Every nerve in my body is buzzing.
I nod, realizing I can’t find my voice. His fingers find the waistband of my pajamas and slip inside.
He swears softly when he feels how wet and swollen I am.
In less than a minute I’m gasping for air, and riding Brandon’s hand.
He is not inexperienced, or if he is, he has an amazing natural talent for fingering.
I bite down on his pec so I won’t scream and when my legs give out, he holds me up and drives me to the edge of sanity.
The kettle is screaming when I stumble inside, and I can only count my lucky stars that neither of the parents came down to check.
My pajama top is stained with his come and my bottoms and underwear are soaked with mine.
My pussy is still so sensitive I can barely walk, but if I’d stayed outside any longer, I would have died by orgasm.
Brandon’s all put back together, smoking a cigarette with hands that smell like me.
I turn off the stove and head upstairs. I’m pretty sure I’ll have no trouble falling asleep now.