by Autumn Avery
“Oh…” Abbey says, sounding disgusted. “Is that like you guys’ ritual or something?”
“It’s become that,” I sigh. “It’s just so—“
“Completely unsexy?” She says, finishing my sentence.
“Exactly! I mean, I’m just supposed to schedule it into my day like an appointment or something. How unromantic is that?”
“About as sexy as making out after eating garlic and asparagus,” Abbey replies, making me grimace. “But let’s be honest. You turned him down for another reason, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?” I say, remembering her comments about my poker face. Uh oh. There interrogation is coming.
“Don’t be coy!” Abbey says, inching forward towards me like a leopard stalking its prey. “I can read you like a book! You’re glowing!”
“I am not!”
“You are too! You banged Walker Johnson!”
“I did not bang Walker Johnson!” I say indignantly. I knew this was coming, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“Admit it!” She shouts, leaping to her feet and pointing a finger in my face.
“I will not!” I shout back. “Didn’t happen. Not gonna admit to something that didn’t happen.” I cross my arms defiantly in front of my chest, blowing a stray hair out of my face.
“Hmmm,” Abbey says, examining me like a detective, inching closer, peering at me through squinted eyes. “But he tried to, didn’t he?”
I remain silent, not giving her anything to go on. I’m certainly not going to tell her what I thought of his body…
“So he tried to, like I’d expected. But you held out. But you’re glowing…” She twists her lip in concentration. Then a look of realization comes over her face, which slowly morphs into a smile. She’s got it. I brace myself. “You rubbed one out to him!”
How is it possible that Abbey knows me so well? Am I that transparent? Caught, I hang my head defeated.
“You should have just boned him!”
“No, I shouldn’t have just boned him!” I reply, doing my best to look angry. “I don’t just…bone people. He’s the subject of my story, Abbey.”
“And you have a boyfriend,” she says.
“Yes. I have a boyfriend,” I repeat. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“Well, you could have boned your boyfriend and pretended it was Walker Johnson,” she says with a naughty wink.
“Oh my God, Abbey!” I laugh. What a whirlwind tonight has been, and all because of Peter and his stupid story.
I have a boyfriend. But Walker Johnson…Walker Johnson wants me…
3
Walker
That babe from the Tribune has me all twisted. I’d wanted her from the second I saw her, and it messed my whole night up not getting with her. I’d turned down a girl named Sandy, who had straight, bleached blonde hair and a boob job, because I couldn’t get that reporter girl out of my head.
I lean back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking hard, trying to shake off last night. I’m pretty beat, but that’s nothing new. What is new, is this girl running through my mind.
The whole house still smells like the party, but that’s nothing new. What I can’t get away from is the memory of her scent. Boy, she smelled good. I don’t know if it was perfume, deodorant, a combination of both, or just her. But either way, I like it.
What was her name? Emily? Emilia?
Emmy! Emmy. That was it. Emmy with the great rack. And boy was it great. She doesn’t even know how great her rack is, and that makes it almost hotter. You can tell she has no idea how to dress to her strengths either. I mean what was that outfit? She’s like a supercharged V8 engine in a car some idiot painted puke green and pink. Most guys would overlook the whole car and not even take a peek under the hood – but I’m not most guys.
I can see potential.
My cock had strained against the fly of my jeans the minute she turned around. But why the Hell didn’t she come upstairs with me? She obviously knows who I am. I mean, she’s been assigned to do a story on me. So what’s the deal? I can’t even remember the last time a girl didn’t respond to my game. Hell, half the time I don’t even have to run any game at all. Usually “Hey, I’m Walker Johnson” is enough. Then it’s down to business. And I never disappoint.
But she turned me down. And not just once.
I mean, she didn’t even look happy to be doing a story on me. Does she really know who I am? A story on me could get her foot in the door for sports reporting at a high level. I mean Hell, maybe once I get into the big leagues I toss her an interview every now and then. Or maybe, depending on her skills as a writer, I make her my exclusive go to reporter. Imagine what that could do for a career!
Whatever, she’s probably one of those snobby chicks that thinks she’s better than everybody.
But seriously. When was the last time a chick turned me down? Freshman year of high school probably. No one knew what a star I was yet. I was just another fourteen-year-old kid at that point. But then the season started. I caught my first thirty-yard pass and got our team the first win of the season, and my popularity was off to the races.
Even senior girls were hitting on me. It was insane. All the guys started hating on me until they realized that just by hanging out with me, the spillover would get them all drowning in chicks. By my sophomore year, I was the coolest guy in the whole school, and by senior year? Forget about it. I was a superstar.
Being nicknamed the Stallion before your eighteenth birthday, and having every girl know what the name refers to, is something most guys can only dream of. Jessie Meryl, the Queen Bee of South Houston High, actually asked me out. It didn’t last long, and I ended up making my way through her three best friends. None of them seemed to care. In fact, I think they secretly joked about it.
That’s just how good I am.
And now, here I am. I’m the collegiate star with a fast lane ticket to the NFL, and some snooty reporter from the Tribune is going to turn me down? I mean, what’s her history like? Probably zero. Wouldn’t even surprise me if she was a virgin by the way she dresses. Most guys wouldn’t recognize the potential in a girl like that. I mean, she doesn’t have any clue how to make herself look nice, but I know that once you got her naked, everything would change.
The guys on the team don’t have an eye for women. They go for the typical blonde with the big tits and the tan, because that’s the kind of girl everyone expects them to date. I mean, I’ll fuck those chicks too, but I’ve got a more discerning eye when it comes to the female form. They’re like ice cream, and I like all flavors.
Emmy…is that her name? Well, she’s like the mystery flavor in the corner of the freezer that’s made by some company you’ve never heard of. The packaging looks like crap, and it’s probably got some stupid name like Elephant Batter or something, and so everyone grabs the name brand stuff with the flashy packaging that all their friends like.
But little do they know, that flavor in the corner they ignored is really the best flavor in the freezer.
And the best part about Emmy, is that she doesn’t even know it.
The look on her face when I told her she had a great rack? Priceless. And she does too. Whoever spilled that beer on her did me a solid. I mean, those babies are perfect. I’d love to get my hands, and lips, around those things. The fact that she didn’t dress to show them off somehow turns me on even more.
She wasn’t dressed like a slut, which is the typical college party uniform. The fewer clothes the better is the generally accepted rule, and some girls take it to the extreme, showing up in “bikini bottoms” that are really just a g-string, and nipple pasties with a Colt hat. Heels too. Emmy would look fucking fantastic from behind with a pair of heels on.
But she was dressed like a reporter. I mean, you can tell she takes her job seriously. She doesn’t want to be unprofessional, and that turns me on. What would be hotter than getting up in the middle of an interview, taking her pen, taking her notebook
, lifting her up off her chair and bending her over the desk?
Would she wear a skirt to our interview if I gave her one?
Whatever. Even if she wore pants, that wouldn’t slow me down. I’d rip those babies open in half a second and have them down to her knees before she knew what hit her. I’d run my hand up her shirt and cup those breasts and lean in and let her feel my erection against her ass, ready to burst out of my jeans.
I’d grab her tightly, nibble her ear and whisper, “You want this?”
She’d hesitate, but then she’d nod and reply softly, “Yes.”
I’d be fully hard by then, and unzip my fly and press my cock against her ass, letting her feel all of what she was about to get. She might take a deep breath before I slid inside her.
Shit, I’m getting horny just thinking about this! I might have to rub one out real quick…
I do need a shower, so I toss my clothes and wrap myself, and my semi, in a towel and head for the shower. I’m getting all boned up at just the thought of banging this girl out. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to get the real thing from her.
I crank the water on hot, hang my towel on the hook and step into the shower. Walker Junior’s already at half mast, and picturing what Emmy’s tits would look like bouncing back and forth while I fucked her from behind, is just putting fuel on the fire.
I wish she was here right now, I think, taking my hard cock into my hand. I’m already dripping precum, and I spread it over my shaft, using it as lubricant as I start stroking.
First she would suck me, I think. Then I’d go down on her. I don’t go down on most chicks. In fact, I don’t go down on any chicks that aren’t my girlfriend, and seeing as I haven’t had one of those in years, I haven’t had my face between a girls thighs in a long time.
But I’d show Emmy how talented my tongue is.
I bet she tastes as sweet as she smells. I wonder if an uptight girl like her does any maintenance down there. A nice shave or waxing makes my job a whole lot easier, but I can’t picture her doing that sort of thing. Probably thinks it’s gross or weird or something.
Whatever.
Just watching her face as I made her cum on my tongue would be worth it. Even if she’s the most uptight girl in the world in the sack, I’d still get her there. I’m as talented with my tongue as I am with a football, and we all know when it comes to the field, I’m an all star, so imagine what it’s like when my tongue decides it’s time to perform.
My cock is at full attention as I picture myself between her legs. First I’d make her cum, and then I’d slide my dick inside her.
I can’t wait to see her reaction.
That’s the best part – seeing their faces when I stick it in. But it would be all the more worth it on Emmy with her uptight ass. No matter how hard she’d try to deny it, her face would say it all. She’d love it. She will love it.
I stroke my cock faster, thinking of pounding her from behind on my bed. I’ll slide my hands underneath her and cup her breasts, squeeze them and feel them rock back and forth as I slam her.
It will hurt. My cock is bigger than anything she’s ever had before, I guarantee it. And it will take her some getting used to. But once she’s broken in, she’ll never want anyone else again. I’ll ruin her for any other man.
When she cums on my cock, I’ll bury all my inches inside her and hold it there, feeling each contraction in her pussy. Maybe I’ll nibble on her ear and neck and talk dirty to her.
I can feel myself getting close as I picture her ass jiggling as I slam her. I’ll spank her and fuck her hard and show her what a real man is.
I’m close and jack myself faster until I finally cum, spraying a huge load all over my hand.
“Fuck,” I groan, trying not to be too loud. I came a lot!
That’s how you know it’s a good fantasy. Normally when I jack off, it’s a quick one and done, but this time I find I’m still semi-hard, and I consider going for round two. But I hear a knock at my bedroom door.
“The fuck—” I stammer. “Who is it?”
“Your mother!” A voice shouts back, followed by a chuckle. What the fuck!?
“Hang on!” I shout, quickly washing my hands. What a time for a knock. First I don’t get to bang this girl, and then my jerk session is interrupted? What’s next?
I shut the water off and grab my towel. Pissed off at being interrupted, I stride quickly to the door. Is that Jared? It must be Jared. I just about rip the door off his hinges.
“Jared, what the—“
But it’s not Jared. It’s Benny, and he’s laughing his ass off.
“Sup, chief?” He smiles, tossing me a comical salute.
“Jesus, Benny,” I sigh. “I was about to rip your head off. What the Hell are you doing here? Who let you in?”
“Let me in? Have you been downstairs yet today? It’s like a warzone down there. Your front door looks like an angry bear charged through it.”
“Oh,” I say, scratching my head. “That makes sense. But yeah, still. What the Hell are you doing here?”
“Christ, you’re dense, Johnson,” Benny says with a smirk, knowing he’s the only one alive I’d let get away with talking to me like that. “I’m here to save your ass from failing out of school. Remember?”
Shit, I forgot! A hard night of partying will do that to you, and I’ve had nothing on my mind but Emmy since she walked out of the house in a huff. I wonder if she tutors? That’d be a great way to get us two together. Of course, then all I’d do is spend my time trying to get in her pants. Coach probably figured that and that’s why he assigned Benny.
“Can’t this wait, Benny?” I ask him. “I haven’t even eaten yet.”
Benny reaches into his bag and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in foil. “Like meatballs? Come on, I bet you do! All you jocks love a nice meaty ball.”
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head as I take the sandwich from Benny. This guy really does come prepared. It’s no wonder he’s in the top of our graduating class.
“I like you, Benny,” I tell him, tossing a shirt on. “Turn around a sec, will you? I don’t want you getting a glimpse of my dick and jumping on me.”
“In your dreams, champ,” Benny says. But he turns around, and I toss my towel and slide into my boxers and a pair of shorts. “All right.”
I snag the sandwich and start unwrapping the hot foil and getting a whiff of spicy marinara and fresh meatballs. “Why can’t you have nice tits and a fat ass, Benny?”
“Hey, I’m working on my figure here,” he says with a laugh, pulling out a bunch of books from his bag. “What do you want to start with first—?”
“Do you know a girl named Emmy?” I say, interrupting him.
“Do I know a girl named Emmy? You know how big this school is?”
“She works for the Tribune. Nice rack. Snooty little attitude?”
Benny grins and shakes his head. “What’d she do? Blow you off?”
“Hey!” I say, glaring at him as I take a big bite of the sandwich, which is actually fucking amazing. I may have found a new hangover meal. “Nobody blows off Walker Johnson.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Benny says, chuckling to himself. “Then why do you need to know if I know her? Couldn’t you just go over to her and bang her or whatever?”
“Didn’t get a chance to,” I say quietly, stuffing another bite into my mouth. “She ran outta here before I could get her upstairs.”
“Listen, man. Not all girls are vulnerable to a charming smile. Trust me. I’d know.”
Benny really is a good guy. If he had an athletic bone in his body, I could probably convince the rest of the guys on the team to hang out with him, but this guy can’t even throw a stick for a corgi, let alone play an organized sport. He’s also got a bit of an arrogance that comes across from being so smart, and if you’re dumb as a box of rocks, like most of the guys on the team, he can come off as a bit of a dickhead.
Benny snaps his fingers in front of my fa
ce, and I realize I’ve been staring into space like an idiot, marinara sauce dripping down my chin.
“This girl really did a number on you, huh?” Benny laughs. “What’s this bitch got a golden pussy or something!?”
I know he’s joking – just trying to bust my balls, but for some reason I snap.
“Hey! Shut the fuck up, man! You don’t even know this chick!”
Benny recoils and frowns at me like he doesn’t even know me. My blood is practically boiling. Am I already getting possessive of this chick that I’ve only met once and haven’t even slept with? Possessive is not even a word in my vocabulary when it comes to chicks.
No promises. No commitments.
That’s been my motto since day one, and the girls all know it. No broken hearts here. At least not intentionally. But Benny’s little joke really set me off.
What the Hell is wrong with me?
“Whoa. Easy, fella,” Benny says, holding his hands up like I’m a bull that might charge at any second – which isn’t far off right now actually. “I didn’t realize you two were married already.”
As soon as I hear the word “marriage,” I have to roll my eyes and laugh. Yeah, that’s right. Walker Johnson, twenty-two, on his way to the NFL, getting married. Benny laughs too, diffusing the unexpected tension in the room.
As ridiculous as the notion was, a fantasy invades my mind. The wedding night. After all the lovey-dovey bullshit, Emmy would be all done up in a white dress. Maybe she’d have a garter belt on underneath. Stockings. Everyone would cheer, and I’d take her upstairs and flip that dress up and take her right there over the bed. That’s the kind of wedding night I’d have.
I’d wear her out so well that she’d be nothing but a sweaty, blubbering, post-orgasmic mess, glowing from how many times I made her come. There’s nothing better than getting a girl drunk off your dick.
I want to see her like that. I need to see her like that. She’s so goddamn professional and uptight. I want to see her when she’s been given a good fuck and is completely worn out. And it’s got to be me to give it to her.
