Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12027531.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Panic!_at_the_Disco
  Relationship:
      Brendon_Urie/Original_Character(s), Brendon_Urie/Original_Female
      Character(s), Brendon_Urie/Other(s), Brendon_Urie/Everyone, Brendon_Urie
      &_Original_Female_Character(s)
  Character:
      Original_Female_Character(s), Brendon_Urie
  Additional Tags:
      Adolescent_Sexuality, Consensual_Underage_Sex, Age_Difference, Bisexual
      Male_Character, Bisexuality, Masturbation, Female_Masturbation,
      Curiosity, potential_consent_issues_due_to_age_and_experience
      differentials, manual_sex, Mutual_Masturbation, Making_Out, French
      Kissing, Dry_Humping, Frottage, Tribadism, Crossdressing, Sexual_Fantasy,
      Cunnilingus, breast_stimulation, Bath_Sex, brendon_loves_having_his_hair
      played_with
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Making_of_Brendon_Urie
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-07 Updated: 2018-01-08 Chapters: 6/? Words: 15055
****** Losing It with Lanie ******
by demonista
Summary
     Again, very underage Bden. He's 13 in this, and Lanie is 16. Inspired
     by Brendon saying he lost his virginity at 13, combined with me
     thinking "how would he have been shaped if said girl was older, read
     Shere Hite, was feminist, had had only negative to ambivalent
     experiences with guys her own age, encouraged his bisexuality, etc" &
     questioning the mainstream definition of virginity.
     I purposely never got in Lanie's head, because I didn't want to tell
     the reader how to feel about her & her actions. I think I know how I
     feel about her, but wanted to leave her character more open to reader
     interpretation, and I felt guilty for even thinking this storyline,
     let alone writing it.
***** Chapter 1 *****
In late February of eighth grade, Kyla's friend, Melanie, invites Brendon to
come over to mow the lawn, offering him ten bucks. His mom thinks nothing of
it, and neither does he. Her mom is at work. "She has to work a lot," Melanie
says, as she drives him to their townhouse. She offers him orange juice, the
real stuff, before he starts.
"Come in when you're done, you like grilled cheese and tomato soup? I was
thinking of making that." He nods and she smiles.
At the kitchen counter that has tall chairs so they can sit and eat she makes
small talk. "What kind of music do you like?"
"You know, Weezer, No Doubt, Alanis, stuff like that." He was nervous just
answering questions about music--she was sixteen, and it seemed weird that
she'd be so nice to him. Not that she'd been mean to him before, but still, she
hadn't gone out of her way to be nice like this before either, "Hey Brendon"s
and "How's it going"s aside.
"Me too. The Blue Album and Tragic Kingdom are especially great. Along with
stuff like Fiona Apple's When the pawn, or Tori Amos's Choirgirl." She smiled
as she dipped more of her grilled cheese in the soup. "Or older stuff like
Depeche Mode, or David Bowie, Blondie."
"I really like Bowie. His music, and seeing him in stuff like Labyrinth. He's
so beautiful." The words were out before he could stop them, and he felt like
such an idiot, a big homo idiot. Now she'd have ammo against him. He felt a
familiar painful tugging in his belly.
But she was just smiling. "Yeah, he is," she said gently, then added a bit of
sass: "but I'm more of a Paul McCartney gal myself. Or Darren Hayes--you
probably remember that I Want You song by Savage Garden--cheesy, I know." She
laughed--but at herself maybe, and not him.
Trying to get back to music and not, you know, which guy musicians were good
looking, he said "I like Queen. Beatles are great too. So's Depeche Mode. Don't
know Blondie or Tori Amos, though."
"You should, Bren," she said, and slurped up some soup--wait, since when did
she call him Bren? He liked it, though. She got up. "I'll put on something fun:
Parallel Lines." She went into the living room, and he heard some raucous but
catchy punk.
"You must like The Clash too."
"Yeah, some of their stuff was more miss than hit, but when they were good,
holy fuck." Oh, she swore too. It made his ears burn, but he liked that too.
"London Calling has gotta objectively be one of the best albums ever. But my
fave song of theirs is Complete Control."
"Don't know that song, but yeah, that album is so good."
She started dancing and singing to the music. "You must think I'm crazy-cakes,"
she laughed when she noticed him looking at her as she was singing how she
would getcha getcha get some guy.
"No..." he trailed off. "I like--think you're fun," he rushed the words out
before he lost the nerve.
She looked at him softly. "You're a sweetie, you know that?" Which just
embarassed him even more. She sat back down across from him. "Really. Girls
must think you're adorable. You must've gotten some valentines this month."
"Naw, they don't seem to notice me, or think I'm annoying."
"Well, I can see how you'd be an acquired taste--I used to think you were
weird--weird in a good way. Funny. I think people really like when someone can
make them laugh." He slunk down in his chair. "All that nervous energy--" He
gets really flustered, blushy. "No, it's fun. Makes you cuter."
Suddenly, all Brendon can think is Ohmigod, she thinks I'm cute. And his hands
can't keep still.
She smiles wider. "Like now." She catches a hand in hers. biting her lip, she
strokes the inside of his wrist with her thumb, unfurls his hand and runs her
own over it. Ok, it has to be weird to be getting a boner from this; he prays
to a god he no longer believes in that she doesn't notice. And now his leg is
going, bouncing anxiously. She licks her lips, and gets a nervous look, and
he's not sure if he wants whatever is going on to never stop, or to be anywhere
but here with a woody.
"Did you want to stay here still, talk more... or I should get you home right?
Oh, fuck, what am I even doing, I shouldnt be--" She presses on his wrist
before letting go. He could feel a lump in his throat, and his stomach dropped.
Maybe, hopefully, she was just debating what to do because she was three years
older, not because she didn't want to do...whatever it was she was doing, was
thinking of doing.
"I'll go if you want, but--but, I'd like to stay. I like this."
"Oh, Brendon, do you even know... hold on, I'm going to get something." She
awkwardly pat his hand, then bounded upstairs.
Oh dammit, he screwed it up, didn't he. Dammit, dammit. the worry twisted in
his gut, making part of him want to call his mom to come get him, the other
part wanting his mom to never find out about this, never find out what might
happen if he stayed.
"Oh, Bren, I'm sorry, ok. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have..." She must've only
been gone a couple minutes, but it felt way longer. She pulled him into a hug,
cautiously resting his head on her chest. "I'm sorry. Breathe, ok. Try to
breathe slowly, hon." She started breathing slowly and deeply herself. "Like
this, ok? No need to panic..." She started rubbing his back too. "You're just a
baby, aren't you?" she whispered so quietly, but he was calm enough to hear it.
"I'm not a baby," he said so petulantly even he could tell. So much for trying
to sound mature.
"No, I know, I just mean you're young. And I shouldn't be--I shouldn't have...
" Her hand stilled, but stayed on his back, and her hold loosened.
"Shouldn't what?" She was talking about...oh, he was probably misreading
everything, knowing his luck, and it wasn't sexual at all. "You can tell me,
Lanie."
Her breath caught. "I like that name better, people usually call me Mel." Her
hand moved up to his hair, ran through it. "I'll--I'll give you this book, ok,
and if--if you have questions, I want you to feel free to come to me, right?"
"What's the book?" Yeah, he must've read it all wrong, making him glad they
couldn't see each other's faces.
"I--It's about... sexual stuff--oh god, what am I thinking?" Ok, so seems like
he didn't? "J-just, it's not porn or anything. It's called The Hite Report--
like it's how women actually feel about stuff, how women...come...oh god..." He
heard her slap her hand to her face, she must be embarassed herself--but oh god
is right--did she just say what he thought she said--his cheeks heated up, and
it just turned him on more. "I just wanted you to have actual info, not random
crap from idiot boys who don't know the clit from the vagina from a hole in the
wall. Oh, fuck, what am I even doing?"
Her words kinda confused him. Wasn't it at the top of the vagina? Some of what
he had seen--but she pulled away stopping his train of thought.
"If we haven't died of embarassment, and you want to have it, I think you
should take it, ok? I'll get you home, and you can read whatever parts you
want. Sound like a plan?"
He thought he was going to die of nervousness if he did what he was thinking of
doing, but he also thought he'd die if he didn't, so he did it anyway. He
kissed her, just closed mouthed, half over her own lips, half on her cheek.
"Bren--"
"I-I won't say anything, if that's what--I wouldn't tell."
That just made her look so guilty. "That's why, Brendon. Why I shouldn't.
Because I don't want you to tell. Lots of people--wouldn't think it's right. I
don't think it's right."
His stomach hurt so much, and usually that meant he needed to call his mom, but
he definitely didn't want to call her now. His face must've showed it, because
she looked at him even more worriedly, and rubbed his back again.
"It's ok, Bren. Not your fault. You're not doing anything wrong ok? I am." She
took him back into her arms, and he rested his head on her, breathing her in.
She smelled like watermelon.
"Not your fault either, Lanie." Hoping it was the right thing to say. Maybe it
was, because her hand went back to his hair, stroking through it.
"You're really sweet, Brendon. Hope you stay that way."
He braved another kiss, just over where her top ended and her skin began on
her, well, boobs. She kept petting his hair, so he did it again. She squeezed
him to her, and kissed the top of his head. He pressed his nose against her
flesh, then tilted his lips back on her. She stroked down to his neck, back up
into his hair, fingertips gentle over his scalp. He was getting even harder,
more turned on. When her fingers traced over the nape of his neck again, he
couldn't help it. He moaned.
"Honey, I should stop. Tell me to stop."
He shook his head no and kissed her, even lower, over her top.
She cradled his jaw in her hand, tilting his face up, pulling back to look in
his eyes. Her worried look faded as she stroked her thumb over his cheek, but
still wasn't gone as she gave a small smile. "Bren, would you want to kiss me,
like on the mouth? If you want to, do it, ok?"
She didn't have to ask him twice. Nodding his head eagerly he moved in, her
hand sliding past his cheek back into his hair. He loved how just that felt so
kissing her was probably going to be nuts. They awkwardly met lips, her pulling
away to say, "Let's just keep them closed for now, ok. We'll go slow." He was
embarrassed and ridiculously turned on at the same time. She just pecked him on
the lips a couple times, then told him to open his mouth a bit.
He had only kissed-kissed one other girl, when he was twelve, in a closet
playing Seven Minutes in Heaven, and she had done most of it, too, he just
being glad to be there. She had brought his hand to her belly over her t-shirt,
whispering that he could move it up, if he wanted, but his brain couldn't
manage to coordinate with his hand, and he just lightly rubbed her belly as she
kissed him, sighing into his mouth, blushing and smiling as she pulled away.
She went back in, briefly slipping in her tongue, and his brain finally got
with the program, moving his tongue against hers shyly, hopefully a way she
liked. She had seemed to, letting out a couple moans, backing him against the
wall so hard his back thumped into it, which, unfortunately, seemed to make her
self-conscious, and she stopped, stammering that this, he was nice, but they
should stop. He thought he could still hear her thirteen year old heart beating
fast. He tried willing his erection down, wondering if she felt excited too in
the same way. He thought she was, but girls seemed to be taught to hide it,
like they shouldn't be.
With Lanie, he was surer. He could hear and feel her breath on him, and she
seemed unsure too, but for different reason. Not because she wasn't sure what
to do, or didn't know what she wanted, but like she was being careful for him.
He didn't want her to be careful, but he didn't want her to stop. Like ever.
"Like this so far, Bren?" she whispered, rubbing her nose against his, stroking
his cheek. He nodded, desperate to get her mouth back on his, wondering if
she'd let them use their tongues. She titled their mouths back together, and he
could only melt more, sliding an arm around her, moaning. She gasped, bringing
him to her more, moving between his legs now, and oh, god, what if she could
feel it, how turned on he was by her. Well, he knew he was young, and he was
hardly big, smaller than most other boys his age, based on his limited
experiences sneaking a peek, but still.
"Fuck, Brendon, god," she murmured, pulling her mouth away, both hands
stroking, fingers in his hair, thumbs over his cheeks, and he wonders if just
this could make him come. If she kept kissing him, touching him, he wouldn't be
surprised. "Do you even know..."
"Know what?" he says, lashes fluttering open, as she licks her lips. Oh, god.
"How--how, sexy you are?" She gets flustered, starts pulling away, and if she
stops, he's going to want to bury himself under some rocks and die. Or cry. Or
jerk off. Or all three, knowing him.
He wants to do something to let her know it's ok, but isn't sure what. That
whatever she wants to do with him he wants it too. But he's too afraid to
actually do anything, scared to mess it up. He finds the first thing that pops
back into his head coming out: "Can we, like with tongue?"
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     oh boy, if i wasn't going to hell already...
"Jesus, Bren... yeah, yeah, ok. I shouldn't but... I want to. You want me to?"
She sounded so cautious, as if she wasn't sure.
"Yes," he almost shouts, and her worried look goes back to a grin. He feels
like a giant dork, but he thinks that might be a good thing with her because
her fingers slide back into his hair, and her mouth is back on his, and it's so
fucking good. Her tongue traces over his lip, and she's bringing them closer,
crotch to crotch, and he can feel his pre-cum wetting his briefs. He can't help
the moans he makes, crying out her name, and it seems she likes that too,
because her breathing gets so heavy, and she's moaning too, and her tongue is
finally sliding into his mouth, over his tongue, and he wants to respond in
kind so bad, so he eagerly does.
She laughs a little, sliding away to kiss along his jaw. "Just...slow down a
little, be more careful with that tongue." He's too busy feeling turned on and
trying to do as she says to feel embarrassed. Then he can feel, not just hear,
this loud moan she lets out that goes straight to his dick as they're moving
their tongues against each other, nice and slow like she said, and he seriously
might come in his pants in about ten seconds. This is so good, it's
unbelievable. He wonders how turned on she is, if she feels as good as he does.
If she's getting wet. God he wants to feel her, even if just through her
clothes, wants to see her come.
He can't help the words coming out of his mouth, hands rubbing her sides,
"Lanie, can I-can I feel you. Wanna make you feel good. Make you feel like
you're making me feel." He's babbling, and he really hopes he's not saying
anything wrong, but he must be saying things she's glad to hear, because one of
her hands is sliding down his back, to his ass, squeezing, and she's pulling
him more to her, so they're pressing instead of barely being in contact, and
he's spreading his legs more as she, oh fuck, thrusts her crotch against his.
He's going to die. He's going to fucking die, and he's going to be the happiest
dead little fucker around.
"Oh, fuck, oh fuck," he says. "I can't--I'm gonna."
She pulls away, and he wants to cry in frustration. "Fuck, Bren, that's hot,
too, but could you, like, hold on for me? I want to--" Then she's pulling him
up and backing him against the nearest wall. Ok, he thinks he can hold off if
it'd be better for her. She looks at him, breathing in, examines his face,
eyes, his heaving chest, and then she fucking brushes her hand down his chest,
to his crotch, and he can't help the fact that he bucks his hips. She grins,
bringing her hand to his thigh, kissing him again. She places her hands on his
ass, practically picking him up, and he feels like a girl, but he's too turned
on to care. Besides, he plays girl roles all the time when his family plays
with the dress up box, so he finds himself jumping up into her hold, wrapping
his arms and legs around her as she kisses and almost bites, but gently, along
his neck. "Fuck, you're just...the sweetest...the best...boy I've...ever seen."
He's trying desperately to not rub himself against her belly, even when he
feels her shifting him back down, his feet finding the floor, and she's
pressing herself on his thigh.
"Goddamn, baby, I want to... can I?" He doesn't even know what she's asking,
but he's nodding. He doesn't think he would not want to do anything she asked
of him. She moans so hot in his ear as she starts humping his thigh, hands
still on his ass, rubbing, and oh, god, the thigh that's between his legs is
pressing a bit on his crotch, and he's aching with how much he wants to come.
He whimpers, and she stops almost immediately, which makes him want to whimper
more, feeling like a desperate, idiot puppy, begging for attention. "Oh, god,
B, I'm sorry, I should--"
Oh god, she's stopping. He shakes his head. "Please, Lanie, please. Don't stop.
Need to, need you..."
"What do you need, honey?"
Her words are making him melt. "It hurts. Need to--So close. Please?" Dimly, he
knows in the back of his mind this isn't how these things are supposed to go,
boys aren't supposed to feel so... needy, so... other guys would call it pussy
whipped, or faggy, or say that he's acting like a little bitch. But he didn't
care. Part of him really, really liked it, and all of him knew that she was
feeling good, doing things she wanted to do. He couldn't know for sure, but he
thought this was the freest she'd been with a guy; he didn't think most other
guys would let a girl be like this. They would try to tame her, just do what
they wanted anyway. He never wanted to put a girl down like that, make her feel
bad or like she shouldn't: shouldn't do what she wanted, whatever made her feel
the best.
"Want to use my thigh too? Like I'm using yours?" He's nodding gratefully
before she can finish, shifting to better rut against her thigh. "Let go, baby,
such a good boy," she whispers as she thrusts along his, going harder, and he's
seizing up, moaning, spurting in his jeans. His mom's jeans. That fact might be
enough to make him want to stop, but she's breathing so heavy still, moaning,
looking at him so softly and like she wants him at the same time as she keeps
going. "Holy shit, B, you're the best." He's having trouble staying upright,
but he wants to see her come so bad, wants to feel it on his thigh, and he
thinks she's really close. She seizes up too, he can feel her shaking,
especially her legs, as she wraps both arms around his back, squeezing him,
swearing into his mouth as she kisses him.
"Damn, B," she says, still struggling for breath. He wants to ask, ask if she
came, how it felt, did she want to again, did she want to do this more or
something else. His brain was whirring, but he wondered if he could even think
of what she had in mind, because that thigh thing. Wow. He didn't know guys and
girls could do that. He had seen it in girl-on-girl porn a couple times, with
them naked, but it had never been in any of the straight stuff. And he'd never
heard anyone talk about doing it, and he'd heard guys say a lot of things.
"That was--that was nice, yeah? You liked it? I didn't go too far?" she asked
once she'd caught her breath, still nuzzling over his face, neck. She was so
sexy; everything she did was sexy.
"Christ, Lanie. Yes."
"I--I still want to... Is that ok? Would you want to go downstairs with me, and
I-I can show you more things? Like if you want to know more?"
"Yes," and there he is practically shouting again, like the goober that he is.
"Good," she says, fingers of one hand in his hair, other wrapping around his
wrist, as she leads him, still kissing him as she backed him towards the
basement door. She pulls away to shyly lead him downstairs, their clammy hands
entwined, and he's still so insanely glad she thinks he's worth her time.
"I--would you like to see, like see me in less clothes?" she asks after asking
him to sit at the end of the couch as she stands before him. He can hardly
believe it, even after what they did upstairs, nodding. "You can watch me, ok?
That-that wouldn't be crossing the line right?" As if he would say it would,
because then she'd stop. And whatever she wanted to do, he wanted to be there
for it.
She nervously takes her top off. "Don't laugh, k?" As if he would laugh at her.
"I-puberty hit me fast, so I have some stretchmarks..." She's peeling off her
purple top, and his hands twitch, wanting to touch her. Maybe he should sit on
them. She's wearing a plain beige bra, but it seems bigger than most girls her
age would have--not that he would really know, it's just a guess based on how
girls look with tops on. She's got big boobs; her bra even seems too small for
them, and he really wants to touch, so he does sit on his hands. Then her pants
are coming off, and holy shit.
She sits at the other end of the couch, moving down to lay herself out, and he
can see her dampness through her light blue panties and he must not've wanted
to touch anything else so bad in his life. He wonders if he'd feel the wetness
through them, as he tries to give her more room, eyes glued to her, briefly
noticing some pale, almost silvery long scars along her belly and thighs. He
thinks he'd like to run his fingers over them when everything isn't so crazy,
when they've tired themselves out.
She starts touching herself over her panties. She's looking at him, his face,
as she does it, and he must look as into it as he feels, and she must be as
into it as she looks, because she slides her hand under them. He makes more
noise then she does at that. He can't tell what she's doing, but it seems like
it feels really good for her. "Oh, fuck, Bren. D'you wanna see more?"
He nods right way, breathing hard. This is the sexiest thing he's ever seen,
but more could only be even sexier.
In seconds, her underwear are gone, flung somewhere. She brings her hand
between her legs, as she's bottomless on the couch, and this is absolutely the
hottest thing he's ever seen, even with her hand blocking most of her, pressing
up and down and going in circles. His hand braves out to her knee without him
even thinking about it, and she whimpers, but it sounds like a good whimper.
"I--I could--I want to--"
Her eyes widen, then she looks worried, before settling on...tender is the word
that comes to his mind. "Oh... ok... you want to touch me here?" Her hand
leaves her snatch (dirtyhotwrong word), catching his hand in hers, and he feels
her wetness. Goddamn. She waits until he breathes out a yes, then brings his
hand to her, first trailing over her lower belly, and mound--she detours there
a bit, just stroking gently over it, hair almost tickling him, before reaching
their destination.
He's surprised at how it actually feels to slide in it as she runs his fingers
over her, wondering if it's like what guys have but it seems virtually clear,
more slippery. She feels so hot. Like a wet, hot, furry, slick creature, that
really likes special pets--it's amazing, and kind of weird and funny at the
same time. She gets breathy like a few of the women he's seen in porn. She
keeps moving, breathing more and more heavy, and she makes quiet moans, all
smiles and lip bites. "You're doing so good, Bren," she sighs, which makes him
feel proud and happy. "Like that, just like that," she gasps, keeping her hand
over his. His palm has been doing most of the movement, rubbing circles, while
his fingers brush over her curls above. She starts pushing his hand down harder
on her, tilting her pelvis, then drags his hand down lower, so his fingers are
at the top of her red wet flesh--that nub has got to be her clit--pressing,
moving her whole vagina. "Focus on making circles like that, k? Bit
firmer...but still gently...on my clit." He must be right. She stops talking,
gasping, still guiding him. She gets so tense, and just moans softly. "So good,
such a good boy, B..."
She lets his hand go after she relaxes, but he keeps rubbing her, wanting to
keep making her feel good, trying to keep it the same. He finds it hard to pay
attention usually, but this is easier to keep focused on. She starts breathing
so heavy again, moves herself against his hand, and she's almost shaking. She
has to put her hand back on his--"Really good, Bren"--before she gets tense
like that again. She keeps getting wetter, the whole...area is slippery,
including some of the hair. Her third time comes easier, just with his hand and
her movements, and he feels so damn proud.
"Ok. Fuck. Just want...to have a minute." She takes his hand away, but keeps it
clasped in hers, over her tummy, trying to catch her breath. She must have been
coming; she was totally coming, wasn't she. Three times here, and again
upstairs, and the thought makes his stomach flop, and turns him on even more.
He's been trying not to get too close himself, unsure if he she wants him to
come in his pants again, or what, but he thinks if they start going again, he's
going to come just from his hand sliding over her wet pussy--god, that sounds
so dirty--and his dick jerks in his pants.
"God, B. That was really good." She licks her lips, pulls his hand up and
brings her other to the small of his back, pulling her to him. "Do you know
what you did, what those were?"
She kisses him, laying him on top of her, and Jesus Christ, he's going to lose
his mind, or melt into her, or something. His dick is throbbing, his balls feel
heavy again, but he's trying to keep himself away, worried that she would feel
his now cold sticky wetness on his pants, and he hopes his freaking out isn't
showing, and--
"I don't know if you know anything..." she says, jarring his thoughts. She
presses down on him harder, and he brushes against her thighs through his
jeans, near, so near her wetness, and holy shit. He almost comes a second time,
just from that, but prays he doesn't in case that ruins it, whimpering.
"Made me come, babe. Orgasms. Plural. You want to again too?" She pushes up
against him, and god, he can feel her heat through his jeans, and he snaps,
pressing down only a couple times between her legs before he's coming in his
pants again.
"S-Sorry, Lanie," he rushed out, but she just chuckled.
"For what? For being hot as hell?" He looks at her incredulously. "No really,
you--like that. Again--it's hot. I wanted you to." She was still pressed
against him, and he realized she was moving gently against him, almost as if
she didn't know she was doing it, as if it was by instinct.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
He kisses her, chastely at first, but then she opens his mouth with her tongue,
and starts pressing harder against him, building up to rutting, and within a
minute of that, seizes up, hands on his ass, pressing him down on her, guiding
him in moving against her, and he tries to keep kissing her through it, and
dear god, he could be struck dead after this, and he'd die happy.
"God Bren, fuck. Fuck," she moans against his mouth, squeezing then stroking
his ass as she tries to catch her breath, moving against him again. And fuck,
he wants to come a third time, and keep helping her come until she can't come
anymore. She continues, switching from back and forth to a circular movement,
grinding up on him, and it must only be seconds this time before she's going
rigid again, moving him on her through her orgasm. She continues, and he's
definitely going crazy now.
Even though he's getting kind of chafed he's getting close to coming again, so
no way does he want to stop, like ever. He can barely keep coordinated, lips
sliding down to her neck, then collarbone, arms giving out, and he just lets
her keep going, managing to wrap her in a half hug, hands under her back,
feeling her shaking even more as another swells through her.
"Holy shit, B, I can't--getting kind of sore." He whimpers at the thought of
her stopping, praying she just wants a break as her hips slow even more,
tilting away from him. She runs her hands up his back, rubbing as she mmms and
stretches, then finds his head, gently pulling his hair, bringing his mouth to
hers. "Best, the fucking best. Stay this way, k?" Licks over his lips before
delving back inside, slow this time, and he tries to keep his hips still,
wondering if he should get off her, or just move his crotch away, or what.
"Could we move? Just so I can close my legs; I still want you on top of me, k?"
It only takes a couple seconds to manage to collect the needed brainpower
necessary for him to move, lifting himself of her, going to the end of the
couch to let her slide her legs closed, hiding her red wet flesh away from him.
"C'mere," she says, and he crawls back over her, aligning their bodies, and she
wraps her arms around him, squeezing him to her, sliding an arm back up to rake
fingers through his hair and the back of his neck, kissing the side of his
face. He turns his head to meet her lips, and that tugs his hair in a really
exciting way. Christ, he was still so turned on.
He cautiously moved against her, too embarrassed to ask if he could get off
again, and she chuckled. "If you wanted to, you could, if you think it'll
work," she said as she moved to stretch, yawning halfway through, as if she was
suprised he could go a third time. He kind of was too, because after he started
ejaculating, he only went for one or two in this time frame. He still would
jerk off three or four, even five times sometimes, but over a day, not in under
an hour! He didn't think he should press on her crotch much, just in case, so
he tried to keep it more on her thighs as her hand found his hair again.
She tugged a couple times, the second time less gently. "D-do you like that?"
As if she needed to ask. He nodded against her neck, nose pressed against her
hair, breathing her in with his good nostril. He had tried to keep in the moans
he'd wanted to let out earlier, but decided to let them go when she did it
again.
"Oh, shit, Lanie, yes." He could feel her swallow as she brought her other hand
to his hair, tracing the nape of his neck, pressing lightly, while her other
pulled gently, as if worried she'd hurt him.
Suddenly, they heard a car in the driveway. "Shit, oh fuck," Lanie swore, hands
moving to push him off her. "Fuck, fuck. My mom's back early," she whispered
loudly, scrambling off the couch after him. "Where're my underwear?"
Thankfully, he saw them peaking out between the back and a cushion, but she was
already doing her pants up, so she said, "Just put them in your pocket." He
went wideeyed at that.
Damn, he wished his erection would give up soon, and was glad that he was
wearing his mom's baggiest jeans, because hello, her mom was coming. He tried
to turn his thoughts to... boogers, and pot bellies on old wrinkly men, and
creepy clowns... She grabbed his hand, and it wasn't until they were running
upstairs as she ran her free hand through her hair to neaten it that he
realized about the wetness on his jeans. His and hers. Dammit, creepy clowns,
nails running on a chalkboard, ugly ass beetles. He grabbed her hand, looking
down, and she did too. "Shit," she said, and ran with him to the coat rack,
grabbing a sweater for him to tie around his waist, just in time for her mom to
walk in the door.
"Hi Mom!" Lanie said awkwardly.
"Hi honey," she said, putting grocery bags down. "Got off work early, was
really slow at the diner today-Who's this?" she said noticing Brendon.
Thankfully he had mostly managed to get his hard on down, and hopefully Lanie's
lilac sweater didn't look too strange on him.
"Uh, don't you remember Kyla's younger brother? You know how you wanted to get
someone to do the lawn? I asked Brendon and his mom if he could."
"Oh, that's nice of you, Brendon. See you guys had something to eat? Need
anything else, or did you need to get going?"
Lanie nodded. "Yeah, I should get him home before his mom starts to worry. I'll
try to get back soon!" She reached for his hand, but stopped herself, and he
thought they were both glad her mom was already turned to the groceries. She
smiled widely at him, biting her lip, looking at him, like she still wanted
him--and this was so not the time for her to tease him. "C'mon, Bren-Brendon."
"Nice to meet you Ms Howell."
"Likewise, Brendon," she said, turning to look at him as they went for the back
door, "and please, call me Nancy."
"O-ok, Nancy," he said shyly as Lanie briefly grabbed his hand to pull him
outside. She let go, only to tell him to follow her behind the shed.
She quickly kissed him. "This was ok, right? I mean, I didn't--you wanted to?
Everything; it wasn't too much?" she said quietly. He nodded fiercly. He could
tell her guilt was returning.
"Ok, let's talk more in the car, B. If you want to, I mean."
They buckle up and she pulls out, and he really wants to tell her things: how
glad he is, how much he likes her, how much he wants to do it again. He settles
on "Thank you, Lanie."
She looks at him briefly, and he can see even more guilt. She pulls off on a
side road, then into a driveway of a closed business.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, it makes it so much worse, B, but please
don't tell anyone," she says as she undoes her seatbelt. He follows.
"I wouldn't."
"I didn't mean to--I mean, I didn't plan on actually doing anything, I just
wanted to talk...you seemed nicer than the guys my age, open, and I wanted to
see if you wanted to know stuff, about girls, like how to--I wanted you to turn
out to be a good one. Treat your girlfriends right, when you're older. I just
wanted to give you that book, and talk..."
His breath caught, a lump forming in his throat, and his anxiety was hitting
him again. Did she not want to--like did she feel guilty about stuff, even the
book, and so did things with him that she didn't want, but thought she should--
she didn't seem like she didn't want to, but--oh god...
"Oh, Bren, Bren, stay with me, breathe, ok? In, out. In, out."
He noticed he was near tears. Dammit. "Lanie, I'm sorry--I hope--you didn't
want to?"
Her look went from guilt to concern for him, wide-eyed. "Oh, B, no! That's not
what I meant. I wanted to. Really wanted to--like, you probably have no idea--
and you were good. Honestly, the best, and I'm not just saying that to cheer
you up--you're really sweet." That word again, but it didn't sound like a "oh,
cute little kid" thing while an aunt pinched his cheeks, but like it meant
things that Lanie wasn't putting into words--like sweet was really sexy, and
what she and other girls wanted, but other guys weren't. Her hand found his
hair again, petting him, and he was tempted to act like a puppy, but he didn't
want to make an even bigger moron out of himself. Instead he took her free hand
in his, and turned his head to kiss her other arm.
Her palm slid over his cheek, and her thumb found his bottom lip. "Your
lips..." He pursed his lips against her. "You must've had people telling you
you have gorgeous lips, B." He shook his head, making her thumb swipe over
them, and just that was turning him on again. She moved her thumb to the side,
said "Wanna kiss me?" and he brought his lips to hers fast, but moved slow when
they made contact, sliding over each other. He'd never get tired of kissing
her.
She started laughing, bringing her forehead to his. "I'm such a loser." She
kissed him again. "I forgot that book. Next time you come over, I'll make sure
you get it."
"Next time?" he practically squeaks in anticipation.
"Next time." She kisses him again, this time tracing over his lips with her
tongue afterward, pulling back with a grin. "Like day after tomorrow? My mom
starts at eleven, so come over if you can right after school? Or I can pick you
up somewhere. But only if you want to, k? We'll for sure have at least a couple
hours."
"As if I don't want to!" Damn, he wants to touch her again, like he was on the
basement couch, but had a feeling they should get going before his mom sent out
a search party for him, wondering why her baby wasn't calling for her.
"Good. Great." She smooches him again, tugging on his hair too, not just
playing with it, and dear god. He wonders if she'd like that too. As if she
could read his thoughts, she laughs out "Guess I should get you home before
your family thinks you've been kidnapped or fallen into a ditch, huh?"
He nods, knowing they should. But he reaches for her hand again when they stop
at a red light, and she turns, grinning at him, stroking his wrist with her
thumb. "You're the fucking best, B."
"You are," he says, blushing. At the next stop, a stop sign, he quickly kisses
her shoulder. She brings his hand to her thigh, keeps it there, squeezing his
hand under hers, as she starts driving again, and he just wants. He thinks
about sliding his hand up, to her crotch, rubbing her over her jeans, and his
breath comes fast. She bites her lip, shifts her thighs. He can feel the one
under him tensing and releasing, over and over, and can tell her breathing is
getting heavy too.
"Fuck, Brendon. I-I think I'll be...touching myself after I get back home. You
gonna?"
He can't stop the agreement falling from his lips, and she looks over at him.
"I'll pick you up a block away, south, from your school Monday, ok?" He nods,
wanting to damn well skip school with her Monday, so they have the whole
afternoon together.
She tries to get her breath back to normal, putting both hands back on the
wheel. "Nearly home," she murmurs, and he realizes they've pulled onto his
street. He wants to tell her to pull over, so they can kiss some more, make
out, but even this far from his home, it's stll a risk. He realizes he has her
sweater, and her panties in his pocket as they approach his house.
He's not sure what's more embarrassing, bringing them up and giving them to
her, or not telling her and keeping them--surely the latter: that sounds
creepy, he realizes. "I still have your--"
"You can keep the sweater. You've already got the girl's jeans going, right?"--
he blushes at her noticing--"so I think that'll be less suspicious than
otherwise trying to hide that mess we made..." she hesitates, takes a deep
breath as she pulls in front of his house, "and that cute little hard on of
yours." That makes him blush even more, and he knows he should find that
humiliating, or deny that it's small, or something, but he doesn't; he likes
her words. They are so sweet and dirty at the same time, and he knows she's not
saying it to put him down; if anything, she seems to like it.
He feels so hot, all over. "I. Your underwear. I still have them."
Her eyes widen, and she looks around, at the house and lawn. "I--I'd ask if
you'd want to keep them, like if you'd want to wear them, but that's crazy
right?" She laughs nervously, but he knows it's at herself, not him, and he
doesn't know what to say.
His throat feels constricted and dry suddenly, and his belly does a couple
flops. He moves the sweater, reaches into the pocket, tries to remove them
sneakily, and she takes them, shoves them into her pocket, and she's not
looking at him. "I... that's not crazy. I mean, I don't think." This is
awkward. He opens the door, but keeps looking at her, and his wish comes true,
because she's looking at him again, grinning, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Was worried that I went too far there, Bren."
He shook his head fast. "No, no. I just don't know what to say is all. And I
really should get in." He could see the front door opening, his mom peeking
out. He hops out the car, but not before she quickly grasps his hand, again,
squeezing fast before letting him go.
He makes some excuse to his mom about being worried that he ate something that
upset his tummy, saying no, it wasn't nerves, maybe he had too many eggs for
breakfast? before running upstairs to the bathroom, locking the door, stripping
his pants and underwear off.
He can still smell her on his hand, not strongly, and he uses his other hand to
wrap around himself, spitting on his palm so everything gets wet again. He
keeps breathing her in as he jerks himself to coming within a couple minutes,
almost biting down on his free hand. Fuck, he can kind of taste her too, but
moreso his own skin.
He knows his mom has come across his jizz crusted laundry before, but this
feels different, and it's not just him, but Lanie's wetness too, so he squickly
washes his jeans and briefs in the sink, trying to soap the wet patches, then
stuffs them to the bottom of the laundry, keeping the vaguely damp sweater out
to avoid any suspicion. He wraps a towel around his waist, peeks out, and
dashes for his room. He's lucky he has his own room again: both his brothers
have been living on their own. He stuffs her sweater in his closet.
He can't fucking wait until after school Monday, wishing they could meet
tomorrow, but they both know his parents would never let any of their kids
sneak off anywhere on a Sunday.
Chapter End Notes
     kudos and comments are welcome, and i still feel guilty about writing
     this.
***** Chapter 4 *****
This time, he feels less urgent, because he jerked off a couple times Sunday
night, and again Monday morning, and they know for sure her mom won't be home
till after seven. They managed to keep their hands off each other on the way
there, but the second they are through the door, she has him backed against it,
mouth moving with his, setting a pace of faster but still easy. This time, she
slides her hands under his shirt, brushing over his nipples, asking him if that
feels nice, if she can undress him. She undoes his jeans, asking him if she can
touch him to his fervent agreement as she slides his zipper down, reaches her
hand inside, rubbing him through the cotton, and he thinks there's no way that
bothering with God and heaven could be better than this. She pulls away too
quick, but it's to shuck his pants and briefs down, and he kicks them aside,
leaving him totally bareassed naked against the door except for socks. She
wraps her hand around him, encasing his length, as he bucks helplessly into her
fist, moaning into her mouth, building. So much for a lack of urgency.
"Fuck, Brendon, you held on for me so long the other day. Wanted to do this for
you since I got home that day. Wanted to see you come again, fast, after I got
my hands on you. This was one of the things I thought about when I made myself
come more." One of the things? Oh, damn, what else did she think about? His
brain shortcircuited at the possibilities and how he felt so damn close.
He whimpered, "Could you, could you just..."
She licked her lips, now rubbing her crotch against his hip. God, he wanted to
make her feel good after this. Make her come over and over. "What do you need,
sweetheart?"
Oh, god, he was going to die, of pleasure or embarrassment, whichever got him
first. "Just need some spit, so it slides easier."
She spat on her hand. "Need some more? You can spit too? Or, I could--" she cut
the thought off, shaking her head, and oh, god, all he could think was that she
either meant something with her mouth or her pussy, didn't she? He quickly
worked up some saliva on his tongue, licked her palm, to her gasp. "Baby
boy..." And she switched hands. Was she wet there? It seemed like she was by
the needy way she was rubbing against him. He wanted to feel it. He wasn't
expecting her to, you know, let alone thinking that's what she meant, but,
like, she could touch herself, get her wetness on her hand, touch him with it,
couldn't she? The thought made him blush, got him even hotter.
"Oh fuckfuckfuck, Lanie," he moaned, almost shouting as he came, jizz spurting
over her hand and over both of them as she squeezed them together, devoured his
noises with her mouth. She pulled her shirt off--it was already messy from his
orgasm--and used it to clean him up a bit.
"Fuck, Brendon, the things I wanna do," she gasped in his ear, one hand
gripping his hip, stroking. "Could you, could you turn around?" Confused, he
did, not knowing why, but wanting to give her whatever she asked. Her hand went
to his hair, petting him, sliding down, to his back, then his ass, and she was
breathing heavy still too. She just gave him a gentle squeeze, and he couldn't
help it; he popped his bum out at her.
It was a big butt for a guy, and he normally felt awkward and weird about it.
It only got worse with adolescence; he seemed to get a couple aspects of
puberty that girls got: he was filling out there more, and even in his hips. It
was why he preferred his mom's jeans: boy jeans didn't fit his shape well,
either too tight in places or baggy as fuck. Kara even gave him a couple of her
old pairs, too, but Kyla didn't, still finding it weird he supposed, even
though she was the family member most often encouraging him to crossdress
during their skits and whatnot. But Lanie found his booty pop funny.
"Cutest butt ever, Brendon," she said after giggling, hands almost tickling his
sides as she slid her hands over them, kissing along his shoulder. She began
sucking on it as her arms went around him after he pulled back against her.
"Wanna touch you all over, can I, B?" and he can only nod, gasping out a yes,
and she strokes his belly and chest, and everything feels so good. She pushes
into him, all along him, and he can feel her moving her crotch against his ass
several times, and she asks him again if it's ok, says they can stop anytime if
she ever gets too weird for him, and he's never even heard of this, let alone
seen it. How does she know so many sexy things? He wishes they were on the
couch again, or in a bed, naked, and they could just touch and rub on each
other until...until they both came even more than they did last time, and were
too exhausted to come anymore.
"Fuck, Lanie, want, want to see you," is all he manages to say.
"D-do you want to go downstairs again?" He nods his head frantically, turning
his head to meet her lips, and she squeezes him so tight. "Race you." She lets
go, running through the kitchen to the basement door, resting against it,
letting him catch up to kiss him, over and over, momentarily slotting their
legs together, pressing down on him, moaning. Has he said how sexy she is?
Because she is so sexy. She moves them forward, to get the door open, flicks
the light on, and runs downstairs, managing to get her sports bra off as she
goes.
She flops back on the couch, and he wonders, as he runs after her, if she wants
to do what they did last time again, and if she'd want him to touch her boobs--
they really jiggle as she moves around now that they're bare. It's weird to
have touched a girl between her legs *before* her breasts--he hadn't heard a
guy say he had done it in that order before. She's getting shy, saying, "I-
I didn't want to wear underwear, Bren. But I did--because I knew I'd
be...getting wet just thinking about...today." Holy fuck, he was going to sit
at the end of the couch, but now he wanted to climb on top of her again, slot
between her legs, and kiss her while rubbing together. If he got brave enough,
if she wanted him to, he wanted to take her pants off too, just feel her with
his hand over her underwear, how wet she could get from that, and fuck, he
wants to come again.
As if she can tell what he's thinking, she rolls onto her side, facing him.
"Get over here. I mean, if you want. Only if you want to." She's still worried
about the age difference. It's a big couch, so he gets on his side next to her,
and just kisses her at first. He wants to make her forget about it, wants her
to teach him everything she wants to. This is definitely the thing he most
wants to learn and do well in. The School of Sexy Things with Professor Lanie.
The thought makes him giggle against her mouth, and she laughs too.
"What're you thinking bout, Bren?"
He blushes, not sure if he can say it, but part of him wanting to. But wouldn't
saying she's his teacher just remind her of the age difference? So he settles
on, "The other day... it was so fun. Wanna kno--do it again, or do more things.
I wanna do anything you'd want to do, I think."
She looks at him that tender way again. "B, you... the sweetest boy. Girls
should be so lucky." He's naked, and she still has her pants on, but he's not
feeling nearly as self-conscious as he thought he would. "Want to touch me...
like... where'd you want to touch me?" She brings his hand to her belly, like
that other girl Jenny had done, and he presses. Jenny was slim; Lanie has more
to squish. She was sixteen, but it looked like she'd had a woman's body for a
while. Like Marilyn Monroe, but natural, without the act. Lanie only wore lip
gloss, and he could still taste it as he kissed her: strawberry kiwi. Fuck, he
wants to unbutton her pants but he only manages to stroke over her belly, just
above her jeans. "You can tell me."
He thinks it's even harder to say it, so he works up the nerve to slide his
hand down, covering her over her jeans, but still trying to do it like she had
shown him. She makes this desperate noise, then says a quiet "thank fuck" and
she starts moving against his hand, her breathing deepening. He realizes her
nipples are hard, the dusky pink skin around them puckered, and he wants to get
them in his mouth, but he doesn't know if he should ask, or just do it. He
settles for resting his head against the top of her breast, and her fingers run
back and forth over his neck and card through his hair.
"B, can I...?" she trails off, moving against him more, free hand going to his,
and he nods. "Just--only if it's ok--if you want to do it again. You doing it
before doesn't mean you need to again."
He realizes what she wants, and he wants it too, so bad, like how can she
question him wanting it. He wishes she weren't so careful with him, but at the
same time is really glad she's so sweet back to him. His hand fumbles with her
button and fly as he tries to keep rubbing her through her pants. He has to
stop as she gets her jeans off, and she's wearing red satin panties, and just
that makes his dick jerk. He runs his fingers over them, and he can feel her
wetness through them, and holy fuck. He loves that she's so juicy, that being
with him gets her like that. Like...fuck, he can't describe it.
He looks up at her, and she has this big grin, which makes him smile even more;
his cheeks are going to hurt soon, but being with her makes him so freaking
happy. He flattens his hand again, rubbing circles over her, and her pelvis
starts moving again, and she's letting out these little moans. "Fuck, please.
Don't stop. Doing so good, B." After a couple minutes, she cries out, "F-
faster." She soon grabs his hand, keeping up the speed, but getting him to go
lighter. "The speeds good, but even if I--oh fuck--move harder against you,
just--mmm--keep the same pressure, unless I say--oh god, oh god, fuck, fuck,
right there, shit." She's louder now, and he can see her body getting tense,
her legs shaking, her crotch rutting against his hand. He notices her face and
chest are kind of flushed, her nipples even harder now, as she comes down, her
hips slowing, but still moving.
"Mmmm, B, such a sweetheart. That was good," she gasps, smiling, biting her
lip. She let's go of his hand finally--"but keep touching me, k?"--and flings
her arm over her forehead, tilting back into the couch more, other leg sliding
over his, making him move a bit to accommodate her. He's a bit over the edge,
but he's not worried about falling. As he keeps rubbing over her, he realizes
she's getting even wetter, and she picks up her pace, tensing up again. She has
to reach over again, just for seconds this time before she's moaning out "fuck,
there we go," shaking again, even tenser than the last one, but not as loud.
"Whew," she says, peeking at him with one eye. "Gonna be sore though if we keep
these on."
"I-I could--go under?" he asks, not wanting to part enough for either of them
to get them off yet, and also wanting to still feel the silkiness. Feel the
silk of the panties while feeling her own silkiness, and the thought makes him
flush, feel even more turned on. She nods, and he slips his fingertips under,
feeling just her wiry hair and the wet satin before reaching her cleft.
"Yeah, just push them aside. Fuck, Brendon, that's hot," she says, watching his
hand on her as she spreads her legs, and part of him wants to get a good look,
while the other part wants to touch her even more. He'd have to move to look,
and he doesn't want to stop touching her. She reaches a hand over, pulling them
aside more, letting him get his hand over her again, and he settles on having
his palm up top because he can cover more of her that way.
She closes her legs, kind of trapping his hand there, and what a great trap to
be in. "Now I've got you, mwahaha," she jokes, then laughs at her own
cheesiness as she turns and kisses him. They just kiss for a minute, her
holding his jaw with one hand, stroking her thumb over his cheek, as he rubs
over her, seeing how she likes a back and forth motion as she starts wriggling
against him, legs still clamped. He's not really touching the red parts, her
actual pussy, but the cushiony, hairy, regular skin. She slips in her tongue,
and he finds it with his, trying to do it like they did before. She's breathing
heavy again, against his mouth, and he knows he is too.
Her hand slides down, gently, over his neck, thumb stroking over there too, and
he wishes they had both hands free and more space so they could touch each
other more, do to her what she was doing to him. He wonders how big her bed is,
and imagines her spread out on it, touching herself between her legs as he runs
his hands over her, sucks her nipples, and thinks he's going to come again
soon, just from this. He can feel a bit of pre-cum dripping, and quickly moves
to wipe it with his other hand; they so did not need that on her mom's couch.
He can't help running his fist over himself a couple times, and that's all it
takes; he's spurting again, surprising himself with how quickly it hit him. So
much for not making a mess.
***** Chapter 5 *****
"Fuck, Bren," she sounds surprised too, but she's smiling wide, "are all
thirteen year old boys as messy as you?" He blushes, and notices he'd stopped
rubbing her, so starts again, but she moves his hand from her. He stops his
objection when he sees it's to take her panties off. "Here," she says, using
them to do what she can to wipe them and the couch up; he had gotten it on her
belly and side too. He thanks goodness it at least is an old couch; maybe her
mom won't notice, or he'll help Lanie wash them. Later.
"Sorry," he murmurs sheepishly, hand going back between her legs, and she
kisses him more.
"Gonna make it up to me?" she sighs against his mouth, and he nods as she tilts
towards him, running her hand down his back. She pulls back, looking ashamed.
"I-I didn't mean--it's ok that you did, and you don't have to--" He cuts her
off, kissing her again. This time, he's the first one to use tongue, and she
moans happily, making him grin, still managing to kiss her and move his tongue
against hers. She pulls back, but she's smiling again too, and he moves back
in, licks over her lips.
He slides his hand up her thigh, to her pelvis, and over her mound, just
rubbing his palm over there for a few seconds before sliding further down and
she opens her legs and tilts up so he can get to her easier.
"You're a natural, Brendon." She sits up, one arm bringing him with her, and
asks him to sit down on the couch, normally. "I wanna try something." She
straddles him, and he's still limp, but his dick jerks half-heartedly just from
that, from her thighs brushing on his. Oh god, did she--"Just your hand, B?
That ok?" she asks; his nervousness must be showing through. He puts his hand
back over her and she settles on his lap, kissing him. "Yeah, keep making
circles, wholehanded." Spread like this, he can feel all of her, even her
opening. It seemed even smaller in real life--like how did it stretch to let
dicks and dildos and other things inside, let alone a baby's head out--were
they normally small like that, or was it because she was young, or was it
hymen, or... He kind of wants to press inside with a finger, to know what it
feels like, wonders if she'd like it or if'd be too soon, how wet she feels
inside.
She wraps her arms around him, squeezing him briefly to her before loosening,
hands sliding up over his chest, touching his nipples again. He hadn't done
that to himself before, but it felt good. When he jerked off, he focused on his
dick, sometimes his balls, and he had to admit, he had touched further back,
rubbing around it, wondering if it would feel even better if he pushed inside,
but was too worried to. He wondered if she went inside when she was by herself,
or just rubbed the outside parts.
Her one hand ran over his neck into his hair, and she just made circles over
the end of his hair and nape of his neck with her fingertips a minute, still
kissing him, and she just moves herself against his hand even more, until she's
not making circles with her hips so much as humping his hand. He's not sure if
he should still do circles or switch to what she's doing. "Lanie?"
"Y-yeah? Oh, fuck, Bren, fuck." The hand she still has on his chest moves to
the back of the couch, and he can see that even her arm is starting to shake,
not just her legs like before, and she's breathing so hard, and he can see her
breaking out in a sweat as she makes these desperate noises. He figures she'll
say, or show him, if she needs him to do something different, and it really
seems to be working for her, so he stops worrying for once.
He still wants to tell her something anyway. It ends up being "This is awesome.
You're so awesome." He could smack himself because of how dumb that sounds--he
wishes he could be suave--but he's usually awkward around girls, so why would
this crazy intense situation be any better? If anything, it's surprising how
much his dwebbishness has been kept to a minumim.
She's smiling at him anyway, still moving on him, and pulls his hair gently,
before moving his head to meet hers in a kiss. Their teeth practically clink,
and she's saying sorry, taking a deep breath before going in again, licking
into his mouth, and she's moreso pressing down on his hand in little jerks than
moving on it now, pulling away, eyes closed, moaning "So close, so close, fuck
this is good--almost--" Her hand flies from his hair, cups his hand between her
legs, and presses him against her, firm, still, as her hips speed up, grinding,
grinding, gasping, shaking, swearing, grinding more. She keeps on going, and it
seems like she comes three times before she pulls his hand away, collapsing on
him, forehead on his shoulder, swollen, wet pussy on his dick and balls, and it
feels even better on him there than it did on his hand.
She's gasping for breath, and he can feel her belly heaving on his, telling him
that he's "the best, seriously, Brendon...fuck...damn...I'm dizzy." She rolls
away from him. "We should do this on a bed... next time, because, fuck...I'm
gonna pass out." He's too busy thinking about how hot she looks like this, like
she's all comed out, how wet his hand and now his junk is with her, and how he
helped get her to this state, to fully register the bed comment.
He wants to lay on the couch with her, play with her hair, kiss her, including
over her breasts and belly, maybe even lower--that makes him both insanely
excited and insanely nervous, the thought of putting his mouth there. He
wonders if she'd want to have him move on her like they did last time, only
naked--and the thought alone has his dick jerking. If he hadn't come so much
lately, he'd be leaking too. He can't help wrapping his hand briefly around
himself, slicking himself with her wetness, but he makes himself stop. He sees
her eyes have closed, and she's rubbing one eye with her knuckles, so he braves
a quick lick of that hand, and everything is turning him on so much. She tastes
kind of like... overripe fruit, like apples or pears, but tangier, stronger,
but he's not sure how much of that is her, how much is his own saltiness.
"Lanie, can I lay on you? Like last time?" She nods, and he braves a kiss on
her breast, just above the reddish pink of her nipple. She has stretchmarks
lining her breasts too, and he wants to brush his lips over them, over and
over, before sucking her nipples. Unbidden, the thought switches to him between
her legs, licking over her pussy, kissing her clit, getting her taste--
fuckfuckfuck, he wants her so bad. Wants to make her feel good, make her come,
in all the ways he can. He bets she knows more ways than he's ever seen.
He wants to ask her how many times she came, how many times she can come--he
wonders what's the most she's had. Did she prefer doing it alone, or with
someone. He knows she's said he's the best, which is both an ego boost to him
and kind of sad for her. He's seen things, and heard guys talking, but she
makes him feel like what he's seen and heard is a small shadow of what she can
show him, what she wants to do with him, what she wishes other guys would do
with her. Really, guys should do what the girl wants, let her show him, let her
do whatever feels good. But it seemed like they didn't with her, and he wonders
if she's normal for girls: if other girls know how to get themselves off, if
they want to kind of be teachers, to be followed not led, if they wanted to get
off a lot.
He kissed her a few more times on one breast then the other while he thought,
and her hands moved through his hair. She shifted so her nipple was in his
mouth, and he just suckled on it as she massaged his scalp. She ran one hand
down his back, back up, kissed his hair. It made him feel sleepy and pliant as
she whispered "C'mon," arranging him on top of her as she lay down, one hand in
his hair, the other cupping his ass. Her nipple popped out of his mouth as he
settled between her thighs, privates resting on hers. She tugged his hair a
bit, and his breath caught as she brought him in for a kiss, tongue meeting
his, and his hips pressed against her, dick nudging into her wetness.
He moaned, and she did too, pulling away to smile against his mouth, then she
kissed him full on again, moving against him. "Want you to kiss my neck, B." He
happily obliged, dragging his lips along her neck before opening to suck her
skin in softly.
Her hand that had been rubbing circles in the small of his back slid back down
to his ass, then hip, and her other hand joined the other, bringing him away
from her. He hoped she isn't stopping. But she's not, she's whispering "let me
get a pillow under me," and she does. Oh god, now she's grabbing his length,
squeezing him gently, running over his balls--"wanna get you wet with me, ok?"
He can only moan a yes as she slides her hand back over her pussy, then back
over him. She pulls him back on her, hand sliding away to bring them together,
the underside of his dick on her mound, the base and balls on her. He wonders
if the base is touching her clit; his balls are definitely touching her lips.
Seems like it, as she starts rocking into him, breath getting heavier. She
grabs his ass with both hands, pressing him harder on her. "I-I'm not hurting
you, am I?" He shakes his head, sighing "no," as he realizes she must be
worried about his nuts.
He presses his balls against her harder, kind of rocking too, also tickling his
dick with her hair. He's getting kind of oversensitive, but not enough to care.
He just wants to keep making her feel good. "Such a sweetie," she murmurs, then
kisses him, hands gentle over his jaw and in his hair, over and over, so he
sighs his yes into her mouth. Her tongue slides over his, and god, how did
french kissing feel so good? Like a bolt of arousal straight to his dick.
She wraps her legs and arms around him, and calls him her squishball, making
them both giggle. She's the squishy one, he loves how he can press into her
belly and thighs and breasts, but she might think he's calling her fat if he
said that, and that's a big no no. She's pillowy in comparison to his skinny
body. Well, except for his ass and lips. His lips are thicker than hers, and
she seems to like it that way, too.
She runs her feet over his legs, and hands over his back and ass, fingers
pressing in again as she breathes heavy into his mouth, starting to gasp, now
circling her pelvis against him, squeezing him even more to her and she cries
out, "God, B, please, just...if I go harder, it won't hurt you will it?"
"I-I don't think so..."
"K--k, don't wanna crush your nuts here, B, just, fuck, let's try..." she lifts
him off her by the hips, but it's to shift him, her legs moving too, so his
thigh is between her legs. She's pressing down on him before she gets the
queston out. "This ok, B?" she asks, just rocking a bit on it.
"Yeah, Lanie." She'd already done it, just with their clothes on, so this way
would probably be even better for her. She let's out this sexy moan, this
breathy, gaspy "ah" and makes these fast, firm circles on him, one hand going
into her hair, the other the small of his back.
She's making these noises, rubbing, getting shakey, and he thinks she's coming,
but she eventually says, "fuck, B, fuck, so good, I'm getting so close--like
almost there, twice, but--" and she's rolling him over with a "this ok?", her
thighs still clasping his. She looks down at him, boops their noses together,
grinning as she kisses him, and strokes down his side, moving in circles on him
again, quickly beginning to gasp again, shaking. She lifts herself up by her
arms, eyes fluttering shut, grinding her wet heat on him even faster, and she
let's out a gasped "motherfucker...fuck..." parts stiffening, like her arms and
legs, as her pelvis keeps rolling. She stills for a moment after landing on
him, kissing him over his jaw and lips and stroking his hair, heavy breath hot
on him, but she starts up again and it's so wild how much she likes feeling
good, likes coming.
He wraps his arms loosely around her, kissing over her cheek and neck as she
goes, feeling her pulse thump against his lips, and he just presses them there
as she humps his thigh, her head resting next to his, panting and moaning in
his ear, and it's the hottest thing he's ever heard. "Fuck, B, shit," she cries
out, hand reaching over him to grip the couch arm, grinding down on him,
getting so tense, then relaxing, nuzzling into his neck, then back up to his
ear, wet mouth sucking on his earlobe a moment before she sighs, "you're my
sweet boy, aren't you?"
She lets go, going lax, and he never wants her to stop calling him nice things
like that, or feeling good, or letting him see her get like that, watch her
come, showing him all these sexy things. "I-I'm really glad I'm your boy."
***** Chapter 6 *****
Lanie smiles at him, nuzzles their noses together, then tilts them into a
sweet, slow kiss. She shifts to kiss over his collarbone, fingertips rubbing
over his scalp before just playing with his hair. "Can I--your nipples, I
mean?" He nods, almost blushing, and her mouth closes over one, sucking,
running her tongue over it, and oh god. It feels really good. She shifts to the
other one, and he feels it even in his half hard dick. She gets her hips
between his thighs, pressing their chests together, hand stroking his hair
again, mound on his. He feels like a girl again, but maybe everyone should feel
like this sometimes--touched and kissed and played with and taken care of. And
she's a girl, making him feel like that; touching and taking care of him. Guys
tend to only talk about their dicks and balls, not their nipples and lips and
hair being played with or other good things. He wonders if she feels like he
does that to her too. He hopes he quickly gets as good at it as she already is
at doing it with him, doing it for herself.
Suddenly, her tummy growls and she chuckles, her belly shaking against his,
making him laugh too. "Think we should have something to eat. Been hungry for a
while, but, well, some things are way more fun than eating. Especially with
you, B," she says, getting nervous. He beams at that. It's so crazy how someone
not only wants to do these things with him, but finds it really fun, finds him
good at it. But he wishes she wasn't still anxious about it. He wanted fooling
around with him to be so much fun she didn't feel like she shouldn't but just
wanted him, wanted him like she'd been hinting at, like when she had him backed
against the door, or said the sweetest things to him as she came down from the
orgasms he helped her have.
She's getting onto her hands and knees, still smiling down at him, hair
brushing over him, and he wants to play with it. And her heavy breasts--they're
kind of swinging. "What do you want to eat, Bren?" Her words make him think of
it again, of what eating can be slang for, getting his face between her legs,
kissing and licking and nibbling her. God, he thinks he wants to taste her
there. What he could smell and taste of her on his hand the other day, when he
jerked off--it was nice, bittersweet, a hint. The slickness he tasted just
minutes ago, stronger and even better.
She's getting up, hand trying to fix her hair, other idly stroking her lower
belly, the triangle of hair below, as she smiles again. He loves seeing her
happy. "Something quick, so we have more time to...you know." She notices the
sweat in her hair, then sniffs her pit, making a bit of a face, and he likes
that she's being normal with him, not like how some girls act like they don't
have bodies that do stuff like sweat and get hair. He likes just looking at
her, her stretchmarks and curves and arm pit hair and furry bush. It's sexual,
but not...it's hard to explain. Makes him feel like he knows her better, maybe
that's it. She looks at the clock after she finds her underwear, puts on her
pants. "Wanna have a bath with me after?"
He wonders how well they'd both fit, but them both being wet and naked could
only be sexy. "Yeah, Lanie," he says, leaving the "as if you need to ask!" out.
She kisses him after he awkwardly stands, not sure how he should handle his
nakedness, her wetness that was still drying on his thigh.
"Gonna have to go upstairs naked if you want your clothes back on, huh?" she
lightly teases, then tenses. "Or I could get them for you?" He can tell she
doesn't mean it as a test of him, that she'd gladly grab his clothes for him to
get dressed in the basement, but he wants to show her that he's not an innocent
little boy, even though, really, he is. He already knows that he really likes
being naked, but the potential of someone seeing through a window or something,
and getting Lanie in trouble, stops that idea.
His eyes go wide as she just picks up her bra and puts it in her pocket, not
putting it on, before running upstairs. She comes down with his clothes,
tossing them on the couch before she draws him into a kiss, arms wrapping
around his back and his arms instinctively go around her neck. "Bet I could
pick you up..." she sighs as she nuzzles her nose over his neck then kisses his
cheek before going back to his lips. "I made spaghetti last night, we could
just nuke that." He agrees, because he likes spaghetti and they could get in
that bath quickly.
Upstairs he wants to keep touching and kissing her, but the microwave dings
before she does much more then get him up on the counter. Luckily, she is
amused at his slurping up the pasta: her thumb keeps brushing over his pursed
mouth, or her tongue flicks out to get the sauce that's winding up around his
mouth instead of in it. "Such a messy boy..." He likes kissing her thumb,
drawing it in and sucking on it as she gasps or sighs, turning his mouth to
touch tongues with hers as they giggle, and they keep getting drawn into
makeouts. Once, she even gets sauce on his nipple, then licks it off. He spends
most of it hard, her hands running over his thighs, hips, crotch, and his dick
jerks into her touch. "How're your lips so...plump, Bren?" she asks, pressing
two fingers in this time for him to suck on, and he slides his tongue between
them too as they look at each other, so...fuck, she looks so turned on. She
draws them out, kisses him, over and over, and he realizes she's pressing
herself against, like humping, the counter.
He feels desperate like that too sometimes--he's humped his mattress for one,
and the couch too. He wonders if she's done that. Her being so horny makes her
even sexier. He wonders if most other girls are like her too, or if she's what
other guys would call a slut: their sexiness meant they were sluts, and sluts
were both wanted and hated by them. As if girls showing that they were turned
on, and wanting to do things with others, was a bad thing. But he knew he
shouldn't ask that, at least not like that, because he wasn't so stupid as to
think that she would know he just meant it as a good thing. Hell, if boys could
be sluts, he'd be a giant slut in training. He wriggles closer to the edge,
wraps his limbs around her and she moans, grabs his ass, making him giggle as
she frenches him.
"Shit, Bren..." she kisses down his neck, and he leans his head back, giving
her more access. "L-let's grab the rest of our clothes, just in case, and let's
get upstairs." She laughs and bites her lip. "Wanna get you naked again, and
wet."
"Don't have to ask me twice, Lanie." He's grabbing up their shirts and socks
and running upstairs, as she chases after him.
"Bathroom is the one at the end, but my bedroom is to the left there. We can
grab some clothes from there first."
He considers making a joke about how her lending him her clothes might be
becoming a pattern but doesn't; he just wants to look at her as she strips
down. She even has some stretchmarks, but fainter, on her lower back, the swell
of her hips, and the back of her thighs. And she was so cute and curvy all
over--her butt too. He's never been able to look at another person naked openly
like this before, especially a girl. With guys, you could sneak peeks, in
bathrooms and locker rooms, and you could see guys and girls in porn, but this
was different--someone naked in the flesh before him, for one, and in other
ways too, that he couldn't put his finger on. She seemed to want it to be an
extension of what they were doing, not making a show of it, but just something
else that she wanted to share with him.
She puts on a bathrobe, and grabs him a towel. "Wanna get naked, B?" she
teases. He tries to be as open about stripping down as she was, blushing under
the knowledge that's she's watching him too. He wonders what he looks like to
her. She grabs his hand, leading the way, clothes in the other arm. She locks
the door and the room is steaming up a little already. "I like it hot--not too
hot for you is it?" He tests it, and it is really hot, but he'll get used to it
in a minute.
"Ah--maybe I should get in first?" she says, knitting her brows. "Wish I had a
hot tub right about now." She sits crosslegged, and he sits facing her. It's
big for a bath and he's glad they both fit. She straightens her legs, putting
them over his and he can't help looking at that pink-red flesh peeking through
her pubic hair. The water makes it even more noticeable. She leans back, head
on the edge, and her breasts float in the water. She sits back up, and mosies
closer and closer, until she's in his lap, kissing him. She wraps her limbs
around him, breasts and crotch squished to his. She smiles so big at him,
cupping water in her hand and stroking his hair a few times, wetting it. She
kisses his nose, nuzzles it, and just this has him so hard. "You're my sweet
boy, ain't ya?" His cheeks heat up even more and he nods. She reaches between
them, stroking over him, and he whimpers into her mouth. She shifts back on
him, shifting his dick between her lips. "Squeeze," she giggles, and he feels
her flex against him. "Labia hug...oh god, I'm such a dork," she laughs.
"Huh?"
She grins. "Oh--you probably don't know the real names, do you? So, like,
there's inner and outer lips, yeah--the thin ones and the fatter ones? That's
labia. And--here, I'll show you..." she's moving away from him, but she's
switching to balancing on one foot, one knee. And spreading--oh, god--spreading
herself. "This is the clit, right. There's the hood--" she's stroking herself,
like the bump he thought was her clit, but he's not sure what the hood is or
where. But he can tell her breath is coming faster. She smiles and looks up at
him, chin still tilted down. "This would work better in my bed." She settles
back on her ass. "I'll show you better when we get out."
Oh, god, he's thinking about it again: her spread out on her bed, touching
herself there as he kisses her all over, but now he's pulling back and just
looking at her there, hands spreading her thighs more, and she's pulling
herself apart more by the white, cushiony hairy halves, wriggling, trying not
to touch the red parts, but he can tell she wants to. Wants him to.
He can smell the apple already as she squirts the soap in her hand. "I-I could-
-soap you up?"
He grins, heart picking up. "Yeah, especially if I get to wash you too."
"Arms first," she says, and he holds them out for her to lather him up. When
she gets to his chest, it's less cleaning than just touching, and he is not
complaining. "Such tiny nipples, Bren..." He's too happy and lazily turned on
to be embarrassed. She slides down his belly, under the water, and he
instinctively stands so she can better wash him, not realizing that it'd put
his dick eye-level with her until he's done it, but she just smiles, soaping
over him there, the pubes and balls too. And his thighs, hips, and she gets on
her knees, cradling his privates with her breasts as she wraps her arms around
him, kissing his belly closed-mouthed, massaging his hips, making his dick
jerk. "Such a sweetie..." she murmurs, hands sudsing his ass too, then the back
of his thighs. She shakes her breasts against him, and he gasps, tries not to
thrust against her "Sit down, B, so I can wash your toes." She gets his feet
and calves too. "Oh, missed your neck and ears."
Now he really smells like apples. "Lanie, wash my hair?"
"Sure, B." She picks another bottle. "Like watermelon?"
"Yeah." Now he'll smell like her too. He moans a little as she works through
his hair.
"You really like that, don't you, Bren..." He can only agree. "Turn round..."
He manages to, and she's getting him between her legs, until his head's on her
chest as her back's against the tub. "There we go," and her hands are back in
his hair, just playing and massaging and tugging and he is melting, throbbing
dick floating. She uses a cup to wash off the shampoo, but keeps touching his
hair, now kissing it to. He turns, kisses her nipple, nuzzles his nose against
it, then latches on, softly suckling. He could go to sleep like this. "Cutest
wee babe," she whispers. He nods, nipple still in his mouth. She wraps an arm
over him, and he can feel the rise and fall of her breathing, her heartbeat.
He wakes to her gently shaking him, instinctively rubbing his eyes. "Oh, crap,
didn't sleep too late, did we, Lanie?"
"Not quite, Bren. We have a bit of time. D-did you still wanna wash me too?"
He nods, managing to get off her after a couple tries, still feeling languid.
"Apple too?" He tries to remember the order she did him in: hands and arms
first, getting distracted at her breasts--to be fair, she likes the distraction
too, hands finding his hair and pulling him into a kiss, then a few more.
She pulls him into standing with her as she does, his hands going down her soft
belly, watching her as he skips her crotch to run over her thighs, then calves.
She gazes down at him and now he's nose level with her crotch, and he's
picturing himself getting his nose on her, sniffing her, cleaving her open with
his nose, his tongue. Fuckfuckfuck. He wonders if she's thought about putting
her mouth on him too, turning him on even more. He whimpers, settling on
kissing her hip, and she pets his hair. Damn, he bets he's going to wake up
with sticky sheets from dreaming about it.
"Wish we had more time, B...you free Wednesday? Mom's working till close."
Wednesday's were when he could not miss dinner with his family, but they did
have it earlier than on other days, usually at 5. "When's close?"
"Eleven," she grins.
He stumbles up, going on tip toes to kiss her. He'll be able to come up with
something letting him stay out until eleven, if he sweet talked his mom, he
tells her.
"Good," she says, pulling the plug out by the chain with her foot, then turning
on the faucet, and shower. "We'll just wash my hair then I'll get you the Hite
Report--that's the book I've been talking about--and drop you home."
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