A new series, and I'm very much hoping for a little feedback.`
Of course, and as always, all characters are consenting adults. Kinda.
Chapter 1.1: Pity Invite
— ALEX —
A pity invite. That’s what this was. It hurt to admit, but he didn’t belong here. A party. A cool-people-party. Well, at least semi-cool. And Alex wasn’t cool. Not by a long shot. 16 years, 6’1 and weighting almost 250 pounds, dressed like a middle-aged accountant and horn-rimmed glasses - he was very much not party material.
So, what did he do at a High School party with rap music, drinking and - not open, but obvious - drugs? Cole had dragged him along. Literally dragged him.
They had been standing in front of the cafeteria, geeking out over old Japanese cyberpunk movies, when one of the more popular girls came over. She ignored Alex, but hugged and air-kissed Cole and asked if he would come to Sasha’s party on Saturday. Parents not home, pool, keg, the works.
“Sure, me and my man Alex will rock that shit”. His man Alex had rolled his eyes. Cringe. The girl, Caitlin or Kaylin or something, had looked at Alex.
“Yeah, sure. Be there.” — “We will” — “Cool”.
And that was that. And here they were. Cole long gone, outside, at the pool, with girls in bikinis and guys in trunks. Alex stayed inside. He didn’t belong here, and he really didn’t belong outside. He looked like a muffin in trunks. No way he’d show that off to all the girls he’d been eyeing secretly at school. He had jerked off to most of their Insta pages and seeing them live, moving, jumping, twerking, in g-strings and micro bikinis. No. That would get awkward. He knew what would happen.
The party split into three parties: the sexy crowd outside, the booze crowd in the living room - and the leftovers in the open kitchen area. Alex was leaning against the kitchen counter, a bottle of water in one hand, a vape in the other. He didn’t vape, but it made for at least a tiny bit of coolness.
If one needed any confirmation that this was the kid’s table: someone brought out board games. “I have to get out of here. I could be home, watch ‘House of Dragons’ — or jerk off to Mikayla’s Insta or TikTok.”.
Mikayla. Mikayla Mauss. Head cheerleader, junior team. High school freshman. Everybody’s dream girl. She was pretty in a way only girls with managed Insta pages were pretty. Girls who had a BrandArmy or — later — an OnlyFans. Petite, but half of her small body was legs. An ass that seemed almost unreal. Abs. Like real fucking abs. Tits that looked fake, but at her age: no way. They were really that big, that firm, and they somehow managed to point sidewards and upwards at the same time. Her face. Angel. Like… there are pretty girls, there are beautiful girls and then there was Mikayla. Blonde. Platinum blonde, and this wasn’t fake either.
Always pouting. Always. Lip gloss. And mascara. Lots of it, eyes like a cat. Blue. Ocean blue.
He could be jerking off to that. But no, he was here and there was a danger of getting dragged into mind-numbing rounds of Settlers of Catan or Crazy Labyrinth.
Get me out of here. Please. I don’t belong.
And then Mikayla walked by. One second, Alex wanted to be anywhere but here and the next second he thanked the universe for a front-row view of Mikayla’s ass. Jeans shorts that hugged her butt, and you could see each butt cheek move with every step. Those legs. Chuck’s, no laces. Alex’s cock twitched in his slacks, and he prayed that nobody could see it.
She didn’t see Alex and even if she had… chubby junior, glasses and a bland face, so unremarkable that his teenage acne a few years ago had actually been an improvement. No. Girls like Mikayla didn’t see guys like Alex. That’s just how it is. Rumor had it that she’s been invited to music video release parties, that she had shot a commercial which was never released, and that she had dated a college football quarterback. Only rumors. Of course.
Mikayla walked outside, to the pool, and it took Alex a lot of strength not to follow her. If she took those shorts off, that crop top and if she had a bikini… stop it. His cock was hard. Too hard to go anywhere. Standing against the kitchen counter, he could hide it. But he knew, ogling her outside, standing there, in loose beige slacks and a checkered button-down shirt, wouldn’t exactly help his standing. Peeping Tom. Gooner. Incel.
“Hey, who’s up for spin-the-bottle?” This was getting worse and worse. But still, after some back and forth between the other uncool kids around the kitchen table, he found himself sitting on the ground, on a sofa cushion, in a circle with an empty bottle of beer in the middle. He could hear the partying in the living room.
“They’re emptying the bottles. We’re playing with them. What’s next? Hit the pot?”
Three girls, all of them about a universe away from Mikayla, and four guys — and Alex was relieved he wasn’t the worst of the bunch. One really overweight guy with giant front teeth, Zachary or something. One tiny uber-nerd who actually had a pocket protector and three colored ball pens in his white shirt. Alex had seen him in school, word was he was some kind of child prodigy and god knows what had brought him to Midwither High — or to this party.
Fourth guy: a by now very drunk Cole. He fist-bumped Alex, bowed. “Ladies!” and fell over, right onto one of the bigger pillows on the floor.
“What’s the game?”. Slurring. Not a good sign.
“Spin the bottle.”
“Na, let’s do Seven Minutes in Heaven. Everybody?”
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Chapter 1.2: Paid Appearance
— MIKAYLA —
A paid appearance. That’s what this was. Normally, Mikayla wouldn’t be caught dead at a lame party like this. There were no seniors, let alone college boys. The music sucked and was so last year. There was drinking, but not cool drinking, no celebrity tequilas or champagne, just beer and it reeked. She wasn’t sure, but thought she had seen a board game on the kitchen table when she came in. Fucking pathetic. Ridiculous. Yet, here she was.
So, how did she get here? Seventy-five dollars. Even the pay was an embarrassment. Not even a year ago, a music producer had sent a limo to pick her up. Her and her older brother because she was 13 at the time and not allowed to go to a party alone. And had to leave before 8 o’clock. Embarrassing, but that was a party. Her brother got wasted, and she showed some of the up-and-coming rappers the goods. Only showed. No touching. She was 13 and not a slut.
14 now and still not a slut. But a girl who knew what she was worth. And $75 was dismal. About as dismal as her needing $75 and needing it now. She took a deep breath, knowing there were dozens of eyes on her tits when she inhaled. Open mouths when she exhaled. This top had already paid for itself. Well, kinda. She needed $75 to pay for it on Monday.
The owner of the fashion store knew her mom, from back in the day. Back in the day when her mom still went out. Get top now, see if it really fits. Bring it back or pay on Monday. And no way she would bring it back. Not because of the top. Because she wouldn’t bring it back. She’d Venmo.
Sasha’s parents were loaded and when a rich sophomore like Sasha hosted a party, half of the school came because of the villa, the pool, the stereo system — certainly not because of Sasha. Anorexia and no fashion sense was a bad combination. But she always brought a guest people wanted to see. In the pantheon of Sasha’s celebrity guests, Mikayla was more like a makeshift. Being the most popular girl at school didn’t quite measure up against supporting actresses on Nickelodeon or one of Sabrina Carpenter’s background dancers.
Mikayla went outside. Pool. Loud music and it still sucked. Girls who really shouldn’t wear bikinis but diving suits, at best. Guys in ugly trunks, not a single good bod — but some very visible boners. Disgusting.
No way she’d reveal the little number she was wearing under her shorts and top. Not for $75. If there had been some guys from the school’s basketball or lacrosse team, maybe. But there was only one good-looking guy in that bunch — and she was dating him, and he wasn’t here, and he didn’t cough up $75 even though she had let him feel her tits and had given him half of a hand-job. Nothing more. She was not a slut. And 14.
A few more minutes. Paid appearance implied you kinda had to appear.
She liked it when people looked at her, and she made sure to give them something to look at. Bent over near the pool, cheers and whistling in the background. Tied her hair into a ponytail, just so she could push out her chest and enjoy a moment of stunned silence. Worked every time.
A few more minutes, then back inside, make an appearance at the keg, maybe tease some drunken retards and then — home. No way she would walk the board game table, she had self-respect. You paid $75, you got $75 worth of her time. 30 minutes tops.
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Chapter 1.3: Seven Minutes in the Pantry
— ALEX —
Logistics. Who would’ve thought? Seven Minutes in Heaven, and it took like 10 minutes just to set it up. Write names on little scraps of paper and who has paper and great, uber-nerd has pens. Two bowls, does anybody know where these rich fucks have bowls?
Alex suffered in silence. At least the boner was gone. Next to him, Cole rocked back and forth and hiccuped. Not good.
Rihanna ran the game. No guesses how her parents chose the name, no idea why they thought it would match an Irish looking girl under 5 feet, with freckles and reddish hair.
In the background, he saw Mikayla. With Sasha. Talking. No happy talk. Arguing. Sasha was holding a small, pink envelope, Mikayla tried to grab it and Sasha pulled her hand back.
Even when she was angry, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She stomped her foot and just this one movement and Alex was hard again. Her butt cheeks, the shorts didn’t cover all of them and… my god. Stop looking. Now.
Mikayla stomped over to the group on the floor, her whole face an annoyed pout, tense.
“Here. 20 minutes. Good enough?”
“No, out at the pool. Please”
“Fuck you. Here. 20 minutes. Or I leave now and you can…”
A long silence.
Sasha, her thin arms trembling and her haggard face in a pissed-but-polite-host grimace: “20 minutes. I’ll check.”
Mikayla sat down, two places left of Alex. He didn’t look at her. She didn’t look at anybody, took out her phone and started typing.
“You playing?”
She didn’t look up. “Yeah, whatever”. More typing.
Rihanna, her voice shaking with admiration: “It’s Mikayla, right? How do you spell…?”
“M-I…”. Rihanna wrote without taking her eyes off Mikayla. “...D-G-E-T”.
Laughter. Not because it was funny, but because a goddess had spoken to the meek. Even Rihanna laughed and that was… well, quite pathetic.
“It’s M-I-K-A-Y-L-A”. Cole. With a big grin — hoping for a smile back, or any reaction at all. Nothing. Typing. Silence. One more scrap of paper in the girl’s bowl.
The game started. Rihanna took a piece of paper from the boy’s bowl. Zachary. The fat guy. Another piece of paper from the girl’s bowl. Rihanna. As luck would have it.
A long look. Both didn’t seem 100% happy with the draw.
But still: Zach got up, helped Rihanna up, and she did smile for a gentleman’s move. They went to the pantry and closed the door behind them.
The remaining players realized that someone should stop the time. Fumbling with phones, “I’ll start at 6 minutes” and off it went.
Boring. Sitting there. Nobody talked. Everybody looked at Mikayla. Even like this, hunched over, passive, disinterested — a vision of paradise. Her legs, tanned and perfect. You could see her toes move inside the Chucks. Her tits, poking though the top, nipples like two cherries under the pale pink top — and more cleavage than anybody had ever seen on her in school. Her hair, now open again, falling over her shoulders and framing her face… the bored eyes, but still this incredibly sexy pout.
Pantry door opened, two very red-faced players walked out — and everybody noticed that they were holding hands when the door opened and let go a little too late to hide that this trip to heaven had kinda worked. Who knew?
Next round. Boy’s bowl. Rihanna picked. Alex.
Alex closed his eyes. No, please. This evening had gone from awkward to super awkward to horror show in just half an hour.
Girl’s bowl. Rihanna unfolded the paper. Smiled. Mikayla.
Silence. Mikayla didn’t even look up from her phone when Rihanna said her name.
Alex had no idea what to do. He got up. Stood there. Took a step towards Mikayla. Took a step back.
“Hey, screen zombie. You’re called to heaven”. Cole. He burped, that didn’t help.
One look up, her eyes empty and only half open, a fake smile frozen on her face. “No, thanks”.
Rihanna: “You said you would…”
One look from Mikayla and she fell silent. Looked down. Alex noticed that Zach squeezed her hand and then let go. Cute.
“Hey”. We all looked up. Sasha, in her terrible woolen dress with polka dots. She held up the little pink envelope.
“Play or… go…”
What was going on here? Did she have anything on Mikayla? Nudes? Love poems to bargain-bin rappers? Letters to Santa?
“Oh for fuck’s sake”. Mikayla hissed and got up without using her arms, she just pushed up, sitting cross-legged to standing in one swift, elegant and incredibly hot move.
She walked by Alex, to the pantry. Not a single look. Alex followed her, his head down. Seven Minutes in Heaven, my ass.
He closed the door behind him. Dim lighting, Mikayla in the corner of the tiny room, still looking at her phone. Shelves full of foodstuff lined the walls, there were three different kinds of bottled water, all looked expensive. One shelf with nothing but different brands of sushi rice. A cooler with a glass door, full of fresh fruit.
What now? Say something. Alex wasn’t hard… too nervous. This wouldn’t happen. No way. One look at her (one look that felt like lightning in his eyes) and he knew that this would be Seven Minutes in the Pantry, nothing more.
“Five more minutes”
“What?” Bored, but a friendlier tone than the hostile vibe outside.
“Five more minutes. We’ll just wait, right?”
“Yeah…” Pause. “Tell them whatever you want, like… whatever.”
“I won’t. This sucks for you, it also sucks for me.”
For the first time, she looked up. Damn, she’s pretty. Her smile, like a mask, but her eyes were focused now. The pout, her lips open, like the upper half of a heart emoji. Her nipples, poking through the top — did they twitch? Did Mikayla Mauss’ nipples fucking twitch? Now there is movement in Alex’s pants and he can’t even close his eyes. Not when Mikayla is looking at him, for the first time ever. He had known her since elementary school, she had been a knock-out even on her first day of school — and her growing breasts had been the stuff of legend for two years in Junior High.
She smiled. Not the mask smile, this one was… almost genuine. Her pose relaxed, neither the hunched-over pose nor the look-at-me pose… just standing there.
“Have you ever kissed a girl?”
No answer. Every possible answer would be either a lie or an embarrassment. Did Julia from summer camp count? Two years ago, he thought she wanted it, she made it very clear she didn’t and recoiled as soon as his lips came near hers. Didn’t count.
Mikayla took one step forward, and Alex couldn’t help but take a step back… half a step because now his back was against the sushi rice shelf.
“Relax. So: no?”
He tried to look away, tried to say something, anything. Another step forward, now she was standing right in front of him, her tits just inches away from his belly. 50 pounds less and this might’ve been sexy.
Her left hand touched his upper arm. He wished he didn’t flinch. Her right hand on his shoulder. Soft. She could probably feel his heartbeat, even on the shoulder. He felt the back of his shirt getting damp. Her nipples, Mikayla’s nipples, touched him… the whimper out of his mouth was the most embarrassing part yet.
“I know. Relax”. Her smile. Bigger now. Kind.
Her right hand moved from his shoulder to his neck. He could feel her fingers. Mikayla’s fingers. Her nails. Mikayla’s nails. No erection but a pulsing pain all through Alex’s cock and balls. She didn’t press against him, but she was now so close that their bodies touched, from her groin up over his groin, her tits against his belly, her chin almost touching his chest.
Closer. Alex felt that he was breathing on her face and she winced.
And then her lips. Alex could feel them before they touched his. The warmth. Her breath. Mikayla’s breath. Warm. Smelled like strawberries.
She pulled his neck, he leaned forward a bit and then they kissed. Her lips felt dry, even with the shiny lip gloss on them. Dry but soft. She opened her lips and her tongue parted his lips. Alex moaned, not a sexy moan, but a helpless one. And then the tips of their tongues touched. Alex’s cock got stiff in like a second. Scared flaccid in one moment and solid steel the blink of an eye later. Her tongue circled his. Playful.
Could she feel it? Could she feel Alex’ very average 5 inches against her belly button and sternum? His cock twitched hard when he pushed back against her tongue.
The moment was over and she drew back. He caught her lower lips between his and held it for a moment, stretching it… and she faltered. It’s like her legs turned to jelly, and she slid down against his body. He caught her, with both hands, and she looked up at him, confused — and then annoyed.
“Fucking loser”.
And with this, she turned around, walked to the pantry door, opened it, walked out, and she was gone. Door still open.
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Chapter 1.4: Shoop-Shoop
— MIKAYLA —
Why? Why the fuck? As if this evening couldn’t have gotten any worse, now this. Why?
Playing along with a stupid kid’s game had been a bad idea. Getting into the pantry with this bland guy and his ridiculous teenage dad bod had been an even worse idea. But at least this was kinda part of the job. $75 and earning it.
But kissing this loser? Kissing a guy who was a 4 at best? Some beta nerd from robotics class? “I’ll need therapy to get over this”.
Mikayla walked out of the pantry, eight pairs of eyes on her, breathless, curious, amazed… she didn’t look at any of them, walked by Sasha and plugged the pink envelope out of her hand.
“Great party.”
And she walked out. Outside. The first breath of the warm summer air felt good. Liberating. Over. $75 and now just a walk home and a shower. A long shower. And brushing her teeth. She could still taste this guy. Disgusting.
No idea where it came from, but there was this song in the back of her head. A refrain. No idea what, no idea where from. Pop. Catchy. But no words. Just a melody and a rhythm.
She walked. A car drove by and honked, some shirtless Puerto Rican yelled something out of the passenger window. She ignored it and walked. Thank god she didn’t wear high heels. 2 miles. And this fucking song bouncing in her head.
Words came into focus, slowly. “If you wanna know…”. What?
Then images. Her mom. In her bed. When she still looked like mom. Mikayla stopped walking. Pretended to tie her shoelaces when she didn’t have any. Because her legs, jelly again. Why?
“You’re not listening…” What’s this fucking song?
Her mom in bed and Mikayla next to her. Her mom’s smile. She’s singing. And Mikayla is singing with her, and they giggle and hold hands. When was that? Years ago. Before the pills. Before the booze. But she’s already in bed, and Mikayla can see the amber-colored pre***********ion bottles on the nightstand. Dozens. Not before the pills. But before Mikayla knew that they weren’t medicine. They weren’t helping.
The old TV on a sideboard. The ancient TV that looked like a suitcase. DVD player balancing on top of it, secured with a piece of brown sticky tape. What’s on it? The singing. Singing along with the movie. A woman. She has seen her before. And a girl. Teenage girl. Both dark haired. The girl… it’s the annoying lady from Stranger Things. Younger. Much younger. Doesn’t look like a train wreck yet.
Mikayla noticed that she was still kneeling and that an elderly couple was walking towards her, looking worried. As one would if you see a kid tying her shoelaces for minutes. Not a kid, but whatever. She’d been invited to a fucking music video release party. Not a kid.
Mermaid. This was the movie. Cher. Winnie Something. One of her mom’s favorites. Now she remembered. Remembered watching it many times, even before she understood what it was about. Singing along. With this song.
“Shoop-shoop — it’s in his kiss”. What. The. Actual. Fuck.
It’s in his kiss. What? Who’s kiss? Not that guy. That nervous loser with his eww pants and that shirt. The glasses, like something from Mad Men, but Mad Men had that Draper guy and that little incel was no Draper. Not by a long shot. Different species.
The kiss. Still: why? She had no idea. It felt like one of those dreams where you are moving on rails, unable to change direction or stop. She had done the routine many times, first kisses sealed deals, got her what she wanted and promised more which — of course — she wouldn’t deliver. She was 14. And not a slut.
It had felt… not good, but not awful either. Nothing about that guy turned her on — but then again, very few things about any guy turned her on. Not like that, anyway. Not a slut. Just a girl who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it.
The kiss. The tongue. His tongue. All her boyfriends — ok, that was two — had just stuck their tongues down her throat. Ewww. Double ewww. Other kisses, more transactional, same thing. Tongues like probing fingers. And if there was one thing she hated more than tongues like probing fingers, it was — yes — probing fingers. Triple ewww.
But the guy — what was his name? Doesn’t matter, just this guy in the pantry. Story material for next week. The way he trembled and sweated and pushed his glasses up when she made sure her nipples were at the right angle.
That guy… fucking incel loser, but at least not a tongue pusher. And he didn’t touch her. She liked it when boys wanted to touch her. She disliked the actual touching. You wanted to touch her, you better offer something in return. 14 and not a slut. Something in return, or it’s off.
It was his lips catching her lower lip that did it. She stopped walking. Took a breath. A kiss. Just a kiss and who gives a fuck why. It was just a kiss and nothing in return, but screw it. Just a kiss. And then his lips around her lower lip. This loser’s lips holding Mikayla’s lower lip.
One image: teeth. Biting her. Biting down on her lower lip. Pain. Blood. She remembered how puzzled she was, in this split second of him holding her lower lip between his lips. A whole movie of bites and tears and sobs… and this other image… a hand… on her throat… choking her while she felt him chewing on her lip. Pulling. Twisting. The hand on her throat. Strangling.
Just a kiss… and the world went out of focus. Her legs had given in and the next thing she knew was that he was holding her, the first time he had touched her, and that it felt good, but she wanted to run. Just run. Just a kiss. Just run.
Honking. Mikayla looked up. Still standing. In the middle of the street. Angry lady in an old Honda, What the hell? It’s in his kiss. Shoop-Shoop.
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Chapter 1.5: Yellow Bag Sunday
— ALEX —
The rest of the party had been a whole different kind of nightmare. First boredom. Then excitement. Anticipation. Paradise for 10 seconds. The horror show of Mikayla walking out and him standing in the pantry, hard-on shrivelling down in a few seconds. He had walked out, to cheers, and Cole tried to get up but toppled over and high-fived him from the floor.
He didn’t tell. Not a word. Everybody pestered him. Did she? Did he? How was it? How much was it? He never really understood the base system, but kinda believed that this had been first base. But he still didn’t tell. Which made the small crowd of admirers even more restless.
At 11, he texted his dad and asked him to call them an Uber, got Cole home, and he didn’t puke in the car. But it did look like a release was building up. Cole slurred, “My man. Fucking Mikayla Mauss. My man.” and was out.
Bed. Finally. Yes, he did jerk off to Mikayla’s Insta. Pictures of her in a swimsuit with strategically placed holes. An insane shot of her ass in yoga pants. But he came to a close-up of her face. Insta smile, but the relaxed kind. Her eyes sparkling, and a tiny red dot next to her nose. Didn’t filter it out, and it got him pumping his fist so hard he had to stop for a second before going for the shot. He jizzed all over the back of his phone, and he had to take it out of the cover to wipe all of his semen off. Not great, and the orgasm hadn’t felt good. It was one of the bigger ones, but not one that released tension. He had managed to keep the kiss out of his mind while he was staring at Mikayla’s open lips… the hint of a tongue in the background. The lips, the upper half of a heart. A bit of a wet reflection in the corner of her mouth. Explosion. Over.
But the kiss came back and without even realizing it, he started to jerk his cock slowly… just with two fingers, no lube, just sliding up and down. Mikayla’s lips. Mikayla’s tongue. Mikayla’s nipples. Her tongue. Her lips. The kiss. His tongue. The feeling of her trembling lower lip between his lips. The feeling when he pulled it. No explosion… a slow, almost tender release. Long. Reverberating through his body. His balls cramping up on the last squeeze. Slow. Quiet.
Next morning. Alex woke up, with the taste of Mikayla’s breath in his mouth. His cock, hard. Rock hard. Soiled tissues next to the bed, and he stuffed them into the big, airtight zipper bag under the bed. It smelled rotten when he opened it, and he decided it’s time for a new bag. And he might need more than one if those images kept coming back.
Breakfast. Dad asked about the party, got a “was ok” in reply, and didn’t ask more. Mom, pan with fried eggs in her hand: “No drinking?” — “No”. Also no follow-ups. Alex's parents were ok. Not always great, but ok. And his mom never asked about the bag under his bed. She knew better. Boys. But he should change it more often. The transparent plastic had started to turn yellow. She had hoped for a girl.
Alex cleaned up his room, and yes, the yellowing bag went into the trash. Pull three garbage bags out, yellow bag in, three bags back in, problem solved. New bag from the kitchen pantry. The pantry. Images. Mikayla. He needed the new bag ten minutes later. No Insta, no TikTok, just memories… two tissues, peace for an hour or two.
Homework for Monday, physics. Mostly boring because it was just math in disguise, and math simply wasn’t an issue for Alex. His dad kept bringing up studying math, but that sounded like purgatory. Math wasn’t interesting, he was just good at it. Without effort.
Lunch, just salad and toasted sour-dough bread. Back to homework, almost done, history next. Not boring, but tedious. History as such: interesting. Remembering the order, names, and birthdates of U.S. presidents: not so much.
A knock on the door. “Yeah?”. His dad, a smile as big as his head. “You have a visitor.”
His dad pushed the door open. Mikayla. Ratty jogging suit and her hair a mess. Mikayla. What the hell?
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Chapter 1.6: Sunday Mom
— MIKAYLA —
After she had come home, she had showered for an hour. An hour. Just standing there. There was a strange pulsing all over her body. No, not all over her body. Around her tummy. And below.
In bed, the pulsing didn’t stop. Quite the opposite. It got worse. Like a heartbeat. A very warm heartbeat. On her back, no blanket. She felt hot. Those embarrassing images came back. How he had caught her. The lips holding hers. The images of bites and choking and pain. Pulsing.
It itched. Between her legs. Her period was at least two weeks away. Of course, she knew about the naughty parts. That’s what mom had called it. Her naughty parts.
She had checked on mom when she got home. The night nurse, asleep in a comfy chair next to the bed. Her mom, passed out, but breathing. This was always the first thing she checked.
Her dad called the night nurses ‘pill dispensers’. True. And so fucking rude. He was never home. He didn’t know what living with mom had been like. Was like. Would be like.
She did have lucid moments. Sometimes a few minutes, sometimes an hour or more. They talked. They laughed. She asked about school and about boys, and Mikayla answered with a long “Mooooom!” and they laughed again. And then, after a few minutes or sometimes after an hour, she started crying. Sobbing. Told Mikayla how much she loved her and that she would miss her. Mikayla had to throw up the first time she realized what this meant. “I will miss you”. When I’m gone. When I leave. When I can finally leave. Just give me a few minutes on my own.
They had removed everything from the bedroom mom could use to harm herself. It looked like a padded cell. Old blankets wrapped around the bed posts. The hooks to attach the restraints. Only nurses were allowed to use the restraints, but Mikayla had used them a couple of times. Put them on while her mom was leaning against her, telling her how much she would miss her.
Even those thoughts didn’t shut her naughty parts up. Mikayla didn’t masturbate. Never had. Of course, she had tried, and it had felt wrong and stupid. She had begged her dad for a Brazilian wax job when the bikini pics started. They got more likes than anything else, and nobody gives likes to bikini pics with bush. Well, ok, plenty of creeps probably did, but whatever. She had looked at it after the wax job. And gagged. Like an oyster, and she hated oysters. The skin around it was still red from the waxing and that made it even worse. Pink oyster in red seaweed. She never looked at it again. She touched it to wash it. To put tampons in, and that was the worst.
Boys had tried to finger her, but that was a red line. A fucking serious red break-up line. The first time a boy got his finger in (‘not a boy’ a voice in the back of her head whispered) she had freaked out. It was before she got her first period, months before, and his finger had this reddish slime on it afterward.
Slime. That had come out of her, out of that disgusting oyster. And that man (yes, not a boy) had stuck his finger into the oyster and was now covered in her slime.
And if anybody asked why the commercial she had shot was never released, this was it. This had been when she was 12 and not a slut. She wouldn’t tell anyone. She hoped the director wouldn’t tell anyone. Fucking creep.
Darkness. Still on her back, changing position every few seconds because the pulsing didn’t stop. His lips. Her lip. His breath. He had caught her. He. Him. Without even realizing it, she hit her naughty parts with her flat hand. Stop it. Stop pulsing. Want to sleep. Stop.
The slap rolled through her whole body. Up across the flat tummy, the abs she trained for an hour each weekday morning twitched and her tits, the most liked tits in Midwither High (and even Midwither Junior High), wobbled and the pulsing was in the veins (or arteries?) on her neck. Then her eyes fluttered. Light-headed.
Breathing. Slowly. What the fuck? She clenched her teeth. Closed her eyes. Spread her legs. Arched her back. And hit her naughty parts as hard as she could. One hard slap, and it sounded wet, and the wave that rolled through her body this time felt like… it felt like the seizures her mom had when they tried to reduce the pills a year ago. Arms flailing. She closed her legs so hard she could feel the thin lace slip dig into her skin. Her nipples got so hard it hurt. Like really fucking hurt. And one long ‘ahhhhh’ came out of her mouth. Nothing more. Her eyes were wet. And… fucking no, the bed was wet. Like really wet.
Nobody but her mom knew, but Mikayla had wet the bed until she was eight. She did remember those terrible nights when she woke up and everything was wet and damp and cold and it stank. Her mom holding her, telling her it’s ok, and it would get better and go away. Changing the sheets in the middle of the night, telling Mikayla the whole story of “Sophie’s Choice”, in parts, enough nights to go through the whole movie and then the first half of “Holocaust”. And then it was over. No meds, no therapist, no tricks. One night just after Thanksgiving, another Thanksgiving without Dad, he was in Europe or Russia or something, was the last time. A few months later, they took out the plastic mat under the sheets and burned it in the backyard. The smell and black smoke was not good, but if there had ever been a bonfire, this had been it.
She never watched “Sophie’s Choice”. But she could still tell the story. “Holocaust”, not so sure, it was complicated, and she knew only half of it and that half made no sense.
And now… wet… but warm. So warm. Like a puddle under her ass. The ass that had pretty much every boy in Midwither High and thousands of boys (and men) all over the country, all over the world, blast their loads thousands of times… this ass was now bathed in revolting warm slime. Holy shit. It hadn’t felt good. If this was this orgasm thing people raved about, it was very much a letdown. Painful tension, then no painful tension, and then a puddle. Big deal.
She had 17k followers on Insta and almost 20k on TikTok. Not influencer scale, but good. The director of the commercial had found her on Insta. This hadn’t worked out. But there would be others. And she had the legs and ass and tummy and tits and face to make sure of that. Just wait. But first — change the bedsheets in the middle of the night. For the first time since she was eight.
She fell asleep right after. And dreamt of being caught while falling. And of bites. Teeth.
She got up and checked on mom. The night nurse was already packing her stuff. “Quiet night. Normal amount of pills.” Normal amount. The amount you’d use to tranquilize a horse.
Mikayla’s mom was awake, but didn’t say anything. Mikayla kissed her and asked if she wanted breakfast. No. “I got that top I told you about. Wanna see?” Later. Two pills to make it through mom’s bathroom routine, back into bed. No pills, but she made sure mom drank her water and she made avocado toast just in case. Had one herself. And OJ. No pulsing. The day nurse came at 10.
Mikayla was restless all morning. Normally, Sunday morning was hair time. Wash, shampoo, conditioner, dry, oil, brush, comb, put up. Not this Sunday. She couldn’t focus. There was homework, but she’d flirt her way out of it. With Mr. Cornell, this worked every time. He followed her on Insta, with a fake account (@corndog73). She had only recognized it because he had accidentally posted a story on the wrong account, and Mikayla had seen it just in time. Later that week, she had posted a pic in a sheer top with “Sucker for Math” printed on it, just for him. It had felt good. She knew what he’d do when he saw it. What she’d made him do.
Restless. Couldn’t sit still. Images came back, but no pulsing this time. No wetness. Thank god. Just the same thoughts. She got up. Sat down. Walked outside, to the pool. Came back inside. Made tea. Let it brew until it was cold. She went upstairs, checked on mom. Asleep. She put her old jogging suit on, the one that was usually reserved for Saturday night chick flicks when she didn’t have a date. Which had been never for at least half a year.
It would take like a minute to find out his address. But whose address? She didn’t even know his name. His name. Him. The looser. Horn-rimmed glasses like some rocket scientist. And that belly. Fuck, no.
Online yearbook, browsing for 5 minutes. Alex Warstedt. Even the name sucked. Address… 3 miles from her place. Shit. Old bicycle in the shed, she hadn’t used it for years, and she looked like a fucking imbecile when she tried to ride it. Shouldn’t leave mom alone… but… the images kept coming.
This had to stop.
======================
Chapter 1.7: Visitor
— ALEX —
Mikayla took one step, and now she was standing in Alex’s room. The girl who looked like some AI had been told to create the perfect teenage female and then add boobs and ass from Japanese Hentai. In his room.
She looked horrible. Still prettier than anybody else he knew, prettier than anybody else he had ever seen. But… a mess. No makeup (and she did look better without makeup), but also obviously unwashed. Uncombed. Unmade. The jogging suit was too big and hung on her like on a scarecrow. Her eyes were red and there was a scratch mark on her neck.
“Hi?”
“Should I close the door?”
“Yes, dad. Thanks”
Dad closed the door and now they were alone. Alex wished he had a ***********. Some writers feeding him cool or witty lines.
Mikayla didn’t say anything. She looked… pissed. Tired. No smile. First time he had ever seen her without that smile. The pout was there, but that was just how she looked. Her resting bitch face.
She walked to the bookshelf on the right. Fantasy, sci-fi, horror, and a few books he had gotten as presents.
“You read all of them?”
“Yes”
“Why?”
“What why?”
“Why didn’t you wait for the movie or series? Reading is stupid.”
Alex inhaled. Normally, this would be the time for a lecture. About the Song of Ice and Fire, about the Three Body Problem or The Books of Blood. But no. He knew this would be a waste of time. And as much as having Miss Insta Tits&Ass in his room felt like a hallucination, he knew that this whole thing would be a waste of time. Sometimes you see how someone looks at you and you know they despise you. Alex knew. People like him knew. And she did.
“What do you want?”
“Have you told anybody?”
“No”
“Good. Don’t.”
“Or what?”
“I will fucking end you.”
He had to smile. Yes, she did rule freshman class. She had half the school wrapped around her finger and commanded gallons of sperm. But still. She was tiny. And looked like a garbage dump. Like 14 or 15 and she was threatening him? With what? Ruining his reputation? What reputation? Telling everyone that he was some gooner incel nerd with a spare tire around his waist? Big news.
“Listen. We both didn’t like what happened. But you kiss…”
“You liked it.”
“No, I didn’t”. The lie came easy. And seeing that it triggered her made it feel really good.
“Liar. You liked it.”
“OK, if you say so. I have a thing for used goods.”
Where did that come from? For once, Alex’s inner screenwriter had produced a zinger.
Mikayla’s eyes narrowed. Was there a tear? No, you can’t bring the Evil Queen to tears.
But there it was. She didn’t hide it. Didn’t wipe it off. It ran down her cheek. Her face a grimace of anger and resentment.
“Fucking loser.”
She turned around, opened the door and was gone.
Same words as yesterday. Same exit as yesterday. Second hand.
=================
Chapter 1.8: Elsa
— MIKAYLA —
She stormed down the stairs, his parents didn’t see her, and out the door. Grabbed her bike and… the tears kept coming. Fucking liar. He had liked it. No way he hadn’t. He wouldn’t forget this for the rest of his life. First kiss. Pathetic. Looser. Not many people get their first kiss from Mikayla Fucking Mauss. In fact, he might’ve been the first. All her boyfriends (two) and other college jocks with ten hands (and the director)... all of them knew how to kiss. Didn’t mean they were good at it, and definitely didn’t mean she had liked it. Transactional. You are allowed to kiss a girl like her, you better bring something to the table. She was 14 and not a slut. She didn’t kiss around. And she didn’t hand out first kisses to losers who lied about getting boners when they were allowed to kiss her.
Fuck it. Fuck him. Fuck all of you. She let out an angry scream and realized she was standing on a suburb sidewalk, with a kid’s bike, and looked and sounded like a crazy person.
The tears. Why? This was how it started with mom. The tears and nobody knew why. Mom didn’t know why. She had to sit down. Wiped her face. Snot from her nose and this was so embarrassing. Nobody on the street, thank god. And she cried.
She had found dad’s porn collection when she was 11. She had looked for money in his office downstairs. Found a key in his desk drawer, found that it opened the big sideboard with the ugly brown shutters.
DVDs and Blu-rays, hundreds of them. And some big plastic boxes, like his cigar boxes, black and with small, handwritten labels. “TEEN SLUTS”, “ASIAN SLEEPOVER”, “FATHER KNOWS BEST”, dozens.
The pictures on the disc covers were… nauseating. Naked girls. Their naughty parts on display and often… open. Some had white slime all over their faces or breasts. She had seen erect penises in her biology book, and one girl from gym class had shared what she called “dick’s pics”. They looked funny. Like crooked poles. But the penises on the covers looked scary. And they were big. Scary big. Next to girls’ faces. Sometimes inside the girls’ naughty parts.
She had read some of the de***********ions on the back. Not exactly informative, but she did learn plenty of new words. And had to gag when she saw a picture of a girl with what looked like a plastic pipe stuck in her… in her butt. She put the disc back. Looked at others. Repulsed but fascinated.
One girl… she looked like her. Looked like Mikayla. Not a bit like her, exactly like her, even the exact same hair color, just 10 years older. Elsa Jean. Stupid name. Who has two first names? And there were many movies with her. She counted 37. All with a girl who looked like Mikayla and… her dad… she felt nauseous. But still took one of Elsa’s discs. One where the pictures on the front and back didn’t look completely repugnant.
She watched it on her brother’s portable DVD player, one of the many discarded tech gadgets in the family room. The family room that had never contained a family. Never.
It was silly. That Elsa girl who looked like her and looked even older than she looked on the cover pretended to be the daughter of some guy in his thirties. He looked like a retard and couldn’t even get his lines straight. When Mikayla shot her commercial, she knew every line and her delivery was perfect. The directory had said so.
The ‘father’ chastised the ‘daughter’ for her bad grades, and they got the grade system wrong. Then he had put her over his lap. Elsa gave a look that Mikayla would later copy in hundreds of her Insta pics. Her mouth an O that was halfway between being enraged and turned on. She was pretty. Mikayla hoped that she would look like her when she was old, like 25 or something.
The ‘father’ spanked Elsa. Not much of a build-up, it was like “I have to spank you for your bad grades” and she was like “OK” and did the O.
But then. She watched the spanking 5 times. It didn’t turn her on. It was silly. He didn’t really hit hard, and she just went like “Oh Daddy, no” with a voice like she was ordering pizza. Pretty, but not Oscar material. But Mikayla couldn’t stop watching. She watched a few minutes more once and Elsa took her ‘father’s’ penis into her mouth and that looked absolutely horrible. The pretty face a grimace and the ‘father’ pushed in and held her head and moved it on his penis, and Mikayla almost threw up. Back to the spanking. For weeks, every night. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t sexy. But the sound of his hand on her butt. Her butt cheeks. Mikayla's butt was better, even at 11. Bigger. More round. Firm, but it could move in all the right ways for TikTok and Insta reels. But those sounds. There was one hit that looked and sounded just right, and Mikayla spent half a day trying to film it off the screen, but it never came out right.
These thoughts, sitting on the sidewalk. Her bike next to her and someone complained that it was in the way, One look at her, the tears, her face all red, her hair stuck to the side of her head. And they kept walking, muttering something about public hazards.
Why? Because… Alex. The spanking. The lip between his lips. Bites. It all went upside down in her head. “Mikayla, you got a C in biology” (she had) “and I have to spank you” — “Ok, Alex”.
Why? This was wrong on so many levels. He looked like shit. Total looser, not even loaded. He obviously didn’t like her. She knew he had liked the kiss. She had felt it. Against her belly button. He had liked it. Even though she had come to his room and she had let him look at her. Let him. She had offers from boys who wanted to pay to look at her. No, she was not a slut. And 14. But he was allowed to look for free. And didn’t. Had said this thing about used goods. The director. Her boyfriend Josh. The boyfriend before. And a dozen or more boys and men in between. She was not a slut. Used Goods. 14. The tears kept coming.
Mikayla got up. Wiped her face. She took a small mirror and a comb out of her shoulder bag and did the best she could. No makeup. But at least I don’t look like the crazy lady from Stranger Things. Shoop-Shoop.
She got on her bike. Turned around. I will fucking end you.
“Nothing to spill. Seven minutes in the pantry. Nothing happened. In case you didn’t notice, she wasn’t exactly in the mood… for anything.”
He didn’t tell about the kiss. Didn’t tell about her… what had it been? Fainting? Absolutely didn’t tell her about the visit today. Fuck, that had been weird.
He replayed it in his head. The hostile atmosphere. The snarky comments. Not a conversation, it felt like a bar brawl. Not that he had ever been in a brawl, but that’s what they looked like in the movies.
Bitch.
A knock on the door.
“Guess who’s back”.
“I have to call you back”.
Not again. She looked different. Less disheveled. Almost a smile. Not a real one, of course not. But also not the Instagram smile. Like someone who tried to smile but had no idea how. Terminator 2 came to his mind.
His dad winked at him and that made it even worse. Closed the door.
“What?”
“I’m… “ Inaudible.
“Listen, I can’t…”
Louder: “I’m sorry.”
She sounded like a robot who had just learned a new word. So-rry. Sorry.
“Mikayla… I really don’t know what…”
“You liked it.”
“Oh for…”
“Tell me that you liked it.”
There was something crazy in her eyes and for the first time, Alex felt… scared. Not intimidated, there had been lots of that. Scared. There’s something wrong with her. There’s something not right inside her head.
“OK, I liked it. Please, go. No hard feelings.”
Damn, she was fast. Standing by the door, and then she was standing right in front of him. Her breath smelled bad. Like really bad. No strawberries. Her eyes twitched. There’s something wrong with her.
It came out of nowhere, the hand. On his crotch. Not gentle, not fumbling, just a hard squeeze, half of Alex’ balls and half of his cock in Mikayla’s grip. She looked at him. There was the Instagram smile. Frozen. And the eyes. Twitching. Her hand moved up and down, not jerking his cock, but pulling the whole ensemble up and then pushing it down. He wasn’t hard and it hurt. She moved her hand faster.
It took a good 10 seconds for Alex to react. To get his mind straight. While the school sexpot changed her grip and now her hand cupped his balls through his shorts and she squeezed.
He tried to grab her hand, but she slapped it. Slapped his hand. Hard. What the fuck.
Another try and this time she scratched him. He could feel the skin tear. The eyes.
He pushed her back. Hard. She almost stumbled, and he tried to catch her, but she was already coming back at him. He swung with his right hand and hit her square in the face. Not too hard. Flat hand. The sound was still sickening. Her head flew to the side…
Fuck, no. You don’t hit girls.
He held her hand… from when he had tried to catch her. And now she pulled herself back up on his hand. She looked up. The smile changed everything. That smile. This was Mikayla smiling. That was what her real smile looked like. Alex’s cock went right up. This smile could make senior citizens blow a load. Her lips, the pout, not sweet, her eyes… sparkling. Her cheek red, where he had hit her, but the other cheek a different kind of red. Blushed.
She came closer. Slowly. Her eyes never left his. Her head against his shoulder. Looking up. Her hand came back. Soft now. Brushing against his erection. She didn’t draw her hand back. The smile got even softer. Her hand… up… pushing his t-shirt up… then down… between his skin and the waistband of his shorts. She had to bend her fingers to get past his belly hanging over the waistband. He could feel her nails.
“Can you… again? Please?”
Mikayla’s fingertips touched his cock, and the way it jerked when her fingernails played around the tip was almost too much. Her hand pushed deeper into Alex’s pants. Her eyes on his. She took his hand, it was limb and Alex was motionless. She put his hand on her cheek. Kissed his wrist. Her lips were wet.
“Again… Please?”
Her hand closed around Alex’s cock which was pumping so hard she couldn’t hold it still. But her hand went down…. and up again… and down. Alex closed his eyes.
“No. Look at me. Please”
The tone of her voice. Alex had never heard that tone. Not only from Mikayla, from anyone. So soft. So pleading. So… bootlicking. Little girl. Little girl asking nicely. He opened his eyes.
Little bubbles of spit in the corner of Mikayla’s mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips. It did look like a performance, but a performance so hot, Alex could feel his balls starting to twitch… twitch… and pump.
The smile… “OK, I go first…” … and a wink, A fucking wink from the Evil Queen. Mikayla…
He felt it before he realized what was happening. Mikayla’s body… gliding down. Her nipples brushing against his belly. Mikayla Mauss’ freshman cheerleader nipples. Against his belly. The twitching didn’t stop… intensified. He could feel her hand drawing back… the pumping didn’t stop, but it eased… her other hand hooked into the waistband of his shorts… her cock-jerking hand hooking into the other side. And then she pulled his pants down, as her body was gliding down against him. As Mikayla got down on her knees. Kneeling. Before him.
And his cock popped out of his underpants and hit Mikayla under her chin. Her little giggle, one she would never show her Instagram followers because it made her sound like a brat, and Evil Mikayla was so not a brat.
He wished his erect cock would look majestic or somehow porn-y next to her face. Mikayla’s face. The face he had looked at when he blew his load hundreds of times. She gave his pants one last pull, and they were down around his ankles. Gave his cock a little pecker, with pursed lips — and she giggled again, looked up at him, and he knew he would cum any second. His cock. Against Mikayla’s cheek. Her eyes. On him. The pout, now mixed with a very visible trembling in her lips. Her cheeks, blushed.
No going back… he would cum all over this perfect face like he had seen in the clips in the hidden folder on his laptop. And that would be it… you don’t cum on Mikayla Mauss’ face. You don’t ruin this perfect image with a gob of mucous body fluids. You…
Mikayla made an O with her lips. Another wink and the first cramp in his balls. Enjoy this moment while it lasts and in a second, it would be over… and the Evil Queen would show her wrath.
Mikayla threw her head against his groin. The world went silent. No sounds. Alex didn’t even feel his cock gliding between her lips, didn’t feel her clueless tongue that just drew back. Didn’t feel how warm her little mouth was. No, the first thing he felt was the tip of his cock hitting the back of Mikayla’s mouth, and then he felt the pressure when the head was squeezed through a hole that felt much, much, much too small… Alex’ mouth open, no sound… the pumping stopped when he felt the thick neck of his cock pushing through this tiny entrance and when Mikayla’s throat closed around it.
The sounds came back… and they weren’t pleasant. Belching, gagging, an unsettlingly loud “plop!” sound when his cock was forced through the small hole, more gagging, wet burps. Alex watched as his cock disappeared completely into Mikayla’s mouth, her lips touched the bush of hair on the base of his cock. He eyes… not crying, it looked like tears were spraying out of her eyes, Mikayla’s eyes. Snot was pushed out of her nose, and he couldn’t see how much she was drooling around his cock, but he could feel and hear it dropping on the floor, Wet splashes.
Mikayla hit his hips with her flat hands, one, two, three times, like tapping out. And then she pulled her head back. It sounded like one long burp, it came with what looked like a whole mouthful of thick spit. He felt her throat holding on to the thick head of his cock, felt how it stretched to let it through… he pulled, and it sounded like Mikayla vomited his cock out, one loud and deep belly belch, followed by another mouthful of phlegm.
Mikayla coughed and spat, her eyes still on him, but now almost blinded by the constant stream of tears. Her smile, more like a defiant attempt at any facial expression but sheer panic… she spat another mouthful directly on his cock.
“You…” Cough, belch. “...liked that?”
“I… are you… ok?”
Mikayla had to catch her breath. Her smile replaced by the familiar pout, the annoyed kind.
“Don’t be a fucking loser now. Your turn. Do me.”
Alex, puzzled and honestly worried about the heaving mess in front of him… in front of him, on her knees, drooling.
Mikayla took his hand. Put it on her cheek.
“Do me. Please. I will take it again, I promise. If you do me…”
There weren’t many brain synapses or ethical considerations involved, Alex left his hand on Mikayla’s cheek, swung with his other arm and this time, it was a real hit, fast and hard, and her high-pitched short scream mixed with the wet slapping sound. Alex could see the print of his hand on Mikayla’s cheek, a big reddening blob in the middle and five paler lines radiating from it.
Her head still down and to the side, she looked up at him, it reminded him of the villain shot from some movies, and before he could even react to her smile, her villain smile, she was back on his cock. Her mouth wide open, again the feeling of his cock hitting the back of her throat and the gagging, munching, burping sounds when she wolfed it down, pushed her head on his cock until she had forced the whole thing inside of her. He could see her neck bulge… “That’s my cock… that’s my cock inside Mikayla Mauss’ throat… my cock”. Mikayla was relentless, hammering her head against his groin and no idea where she kept all the spit that was leaking out of her mouth, some out of her nose.
This time it was him who pulled her off, he grabbed her hair and just yanked her head back, the skin on her forehead stretched when he pulled the hair on the back or her head. She tried to fight back, actually bit down on his cock, and it hurt, but he pulled it out from between her teeth, feeling her eyeteeth raking over the sensitive skin… the plop out of her throat sounded more exciting this time. And the wave of spit that followed it and washed over his cock was even more exciting… but the most exciting part, the part that almost made him blow his load… the exact moment his cock left Mikayla’s mouth, he hit her, first with his left hand while the right was still holding her by her hair and as soon as her head flew to the side, he let go off her hair and hit her with the other hand… and then again… and again… her face… even with her head being thrown left to right and right to left, he could see the ecstasy on her face. Little drops of spit sprayed from her lips as she let out a long “ahhhhhh”, he hit her again, this time with the back of his hand and Mikayla leaned into it, welcomed it… and then she grabbed his hips with both hands, he expected her mouth, Mikayla’s mouth, back on his cock… but she just held on to him when her own hips started bucking, it looked like she was twerking while down on her knees, more shorter ‘ahhh’s, and then he heard something… wet. Like when you take a half-empty carton of milk from the fridge and the milk is sloshing around in it.
Mikayla went still… her hips were still thrashing, but the rest of her body was all still… her forehead leaned against his belly, she didn’t pay any attention to the cock sticking out just a few inches below her face… but he could feel her drooling all over it, it just kept coming, and you could hear big drops of it hitting the floor.
Alex took a deep breath. Mikayla’s breath on his cock. Her spit on his cock. And he was pretty sure she just had an orgasm. Like a real girl orgasm. It hadn’t looked or sounded like the ones in the clips on his laptop. They always screamed and sometimes narrated what was happening. But this had been… beautiful. The way her whole body tensed up, he could see her nipples shiver, even through the jogging hoodie. How her hips moved in a way he had never seen hips move… like cramps or seizures. Her hands on his hips, clawing his skin. Mikayla’s hands. And then the long sigh. Her body relaxed, but still shuddered and convulsed.
And now she was looking back up at him… the smile from before was back. Mikayla’s smile. Her real smile. His cock twitched so hard it hit her under the chin.
“Fucking loser.”
But she said it with this big, open smile. Licked her lips. Winked. Those winks were killing him. Another twitch.
“Mikayla…”
“My mom calls me Mickey.”
Later that evening, Alex thought a lot about what happened next and why and how. But at that moment, he knew it had to happen.
===========
Chapter 1.10: The Need
— MIKAYLA —
Bliss. Joy. Colors. That’s what it was. Only a few minutes of it, two, maybe three - but nothing, absolutely nothing had ever felt like this. This good. This pure. This right.
Downside: with a fucking loser and there was no getting over that. Oh, how she wished she could look at him and feel anything. Or not even feel, just looking at something she liked to look at. The shorts were the worst part. Colorful, with little ice cream cones on them. Fucking ice cream cones. And that belly. She had pulled the shorts down and his belly just kinda fell over his groin. Fucking what?
But those moments. She had never given a blow job before. One time, with Josh, had been close, but he had promised to take her to the governor’s ball if she did — and Mikayla went with it, but made sure that he blew his load before she really had to take this thing into her mouth. She knew how she had to look at boys so they would… do the thing. Ejaculate. That’s what they had called it in biology class.
Josh got a bit of her cheek and her lips going up the side of his cock, and she gave him the look. The one Instagram had flagged some of her pics for, the one she knew would make her math teacher sweat in class. And Josh had spurted his disgusting semen all over his t-shirt while Mikayla recoiled and went right to re-doing her lip gloss, while he kept calling her a bitch. But he did take her to the ball and that had been awesome.
But this… this was not the blow job thing she had spent the last two years (three if you count the commercial) trying to avoid. It was not the cringe-inducing sucking on something boys did pee with and often didn’t keep exactly clean and fresh. This was the blow job thing from the movie she had watched over and over again. The blow job thing she had only watched once, but which had been stuck in her head ever since. The blow job thing with force. The blow job thing as power play. She had throat-fucked this cock into submission.
Yes, the nice-girl voice had helped, to — it always did. Being nice and sweet always worked, with boys, college jocks, math teachers and commercial directors. But ultimately, you have to bring the goods to get what you want.
If she even had a tiny bit of respect for Alex, it was this: he got Midwither High’s hottest freshman to deep-throat his cock before he gave her what she wanted. Needed. Craved.
The throat thing. From the movie. She knew what it was called because there were like half a dozen variations of it described on the back cover. It sounded awful. The whole idea of it was so degrading. And she had read that back cover so often she could recite it in her head. She hadn’t watched it again because something told her that some doors better stayed closed.
But today… she knew. She knew that this what she had to do. And she had been wet from the moment the thought formed in her pretty little head. This hadn’t been a plan. Be nice and ask for it nicely, that had been the plan. Get some loser nerd — who probably wouldn’t get any until he had enough money to buy it — to give her the thing. The thing she couldn’t even name.
But then… he did it all by himself, not because she had asked, but because… why? Because something about her handjob had been… not exactly how she had thought it would go. There’s no school or practice videos for hand jobs, and she had given quite a few and had always thought she was okay-ish at it. And okay-ish together with being Mikayla Mauss had always been more than enough, and the disgusting slime on her hands afterward confirmed both her proficiency and her phobias every time. Wiping it off, one time with the tie of the director while he was praising her… the end of a transaction which had to pay off dearly to make her endure the slime thing.
But Alex… so different. OK, not the cleanest cock. This fucking loser didn’t even shave, there was this bush of brown-reddish hair around the base of his penis, like the world’s ugliest flower bed. There were even a few long hairs on his cock and just ewwww.
Didn’t matter. In her mouth, it felt right. She had loved the feeling of forcing it down her throat. She had panicked when she hadn’t been able to breathe, and it felt like she would throw up. Didn’t matter. This had felt right. This felt like something she could do if she forced herself to ignore the pain and the panic and the suffocating and the retching. And she could. Superpower.
And he had liked it. She had seen it in his eyes… first confusion, then his version of panic, then… he had liked it. And she had no idea why, but this had felt good. Yes, she had gotten what she wanted. But him getting what he had wanted… needed… had also felt good. Who knew?
And the hits. OMFG. That was it. She knew this was wrong and that there was something wrong with her, but whatever. This had been divine.
She had watched 50 Shades of Grey, and it had done nothing for her. It didn’t look hot. The actors were hot, especially Christian. But the girl, what’s-her-name? Not even close to Mikayla. Or Elsa. And the spanking and gag balls and restraints… ugh. The restraints brought some things to her mind which really ruined the movie. Even without that, not interesting.
But the hits. Being hit. Being slapped. The pain. The split second before the hit, when she knew it was coming and braced herself for the pain, her naughty parts already shivering and dripping.
She knew she should stop calling them ‘naughty parts’. That’s what little girls did. And she wasn’t a little girl, she was 14 for fuck’s sake. But the other words… ‘pussy’ sounded just awful. ‘Vagina’ was what her gynecologist called it. One of dad’s movies from the locked sideboard was called “Cunt-Wreckers” and she kinda liked that. But then she had seen some movie where men with super-weird accents called each other ‘cunts’ and that one went out the window, too.
So: Naughty parts. And her naughty parts had been on fire for three minutes straight. Each hit had sent a flash of white-hot pain all the way from her cheek down to her naughty parts, and there it stayed for seconds, humming like an idle motor. Back on the cock, back in the throat and the humming came back, but different this time. In the same rhythm as her choke attacks. And then the series of hits. The whole room went dark and then was filled with bright flashes, the humming turned into a spinning centrifuge, and she had absolutely no idea where the thing her hips suddenly did was coming from. And then the colors. One with each hit. Red. Pink. Violet. And then something went off, deep inside her. It had felt like levitating and being turned upside down, like the moment a cramp eased. She had felt how her jogging pants got soaked, but she didn’t know if this was something from her or if she just happened to sit in a creek.
Peace. This moment of peace and quiet. Before Alex cock slapped against her chin — annoying, fucking loser, but it had also been funny.
===============
Chapter 1.11: Inside Mikayla Mauss
— ALEX —
“My mom calls me Mickey.”
Mickey hadn’t even finished this sentence when Alex’s hand was back in her hair, one quick twist, and it was wrapped around his fist and he pulled her up by her hair. Panic in her eyes, in Mikayla’s eyes, Mickey’s eyes — but also a delighted eye roll. He pulled her up and pushed her back at the same time. It was difficult to keep up with her stumbling backwards because he still had his shorts around his ankles.
He yanked her head left and right while forcing her back against the wall. The wall with posters from Lord of the Rings and Matrix and Dune. Her back banged against the wall, her face a grimace, and now he raised the hand which held her hair so she was forced to stand upright. She spat in his face.
“Let me go”
Two hits, flat hand, back of the hand and he pulled her hair so hard she yelped. Yes, yelped. One more spit, but he didn’t hit her again. Pulled her head up, banged it against the wall, one, two, three times… and then he locked her in between his body and the wall, his cock against her belly button, his belly against her sternum and her tits, Mikayla’s amazing tits, resting on his belly.
A look. No smile from Alex. Mikayla understood. And fought back with everything she had. Alex had to let go of her hair and hold her mouth shut, press her against the wall with his whole body and still get his hand between them so he could push down her pants. Her nails, scratching his neck and face, and he let go of her mouth to bang her head against the wall two more times. Her eyes rolled back. Quiet, but she still kept fighting.
“No… please… no...”
Getting the damn jogging pants down was hard work, down in the front, then pull one side down, get hand behind her and pull the back down, repeat. All this while Mikayla was pushing and scratching and spitting — and pleading. Somehow, it was the pleading which got his cock so hard it hurt.
“Not like this… I can… please…”
He crouched down a bit, Mikayla’s pants were not even down to her knees, but no time, with her little girl voice and images of Insta feeds and TikTok reels in his head and her tears and the lips which were still in a pout, even with this… Alex grabbed his cock, pointed it towards’s Mikayla’s pussy… and stood up straight.
Her eyes got so big, and her mouth made a surprised O, very different from the come-fuck-me O he knew from her reels… he could feel her pussy, felt how small and tight and closed it was… and he felt how him standing up impaled Mikayla on his cock, how it pushed in and tore her open. He had to hold her mouth shut again, the scream vibrated against the palm of his hand… her fists banged against his shoulders and he still pushed… got down a bit and then rammed up, something inside Mikayla gave way, her eyes rolled back again, and he felt how her body slid down an inch or two at once, something wet and warm ran down his shaft and over his balls and now… and now…
Now Alex was fucking Mikayla Mauss. Freshmen. Head cheerleader, junior team. Wanking material for all of Midwither High. Dream girl. Insta slut.
It hurt. Mikayla was so tight, both pushing into her and pulling out felt like his cock was stuck in a vacuum pump. He could feel how she clenched down on his cock, tried to make herself extra tight… for him or against him. He let go of her mouth.
“No… please… stop…. please stop… I’m a… I haven’t…”
Oh, how he wanted to go on like this, fuck this little bitch into submission, fuck her little games out of her, fuck her messed-up little brain out…. But… first time… and Mikayla’s sobs… and the way she tensed her pussy muscles… the warm stuff running over his balls… no… please… just a few seconds more… one more thrust… please.
Alex came inside Mikayla, and he couldn’t even enjoy it, it went from ‘close’ to ‘over’ in less than five seconds… and her eyes flew open when she felt it… she covered her own mouth with her hand and muffled her own scream… shook her head… more tears… Alex emptied his balls into the petite cheerleader, gave her two more hard thrusts… and over.
Sweaty, both of them. A look… Mikayla mumbled something, and Alex hit her so she would get a grip and speak up. “Pregnant”. He could feel his cock swell again when he heard it.
Mikayla pushed him back, but her eyes told him to allow it. With a little wiggle room, she kicked and twisted her legs, he could hear one shoe fall to the ground, more grunts, and she held on to his shoulders while she lifted her right leg, kicked a couple of times… and then her leg was wrapped around his back… then the other leg, with the jogging pants still dangling from her foot. Her heels against his ass, pulling herself closer. He pushed her back against the wall, and she squeaked when this pushed Alex’s cock back up into her cum-filled pussy.
Mikayla started to move. Slow. Her legs did half the work, tensing and relaxing around Alex’s waist, crossed over his back. She threw her hands around his neck and he took a step back, gave her room to move. And she did move. Pulling her whole body up, her pussy sucking on his cock. She went too far up and Alex’ cock slid out, a wet sound when Alex’ cum was pushed out of her little girl cunt and splattered on the floor. She reached down, between her legs, and guided Alex back in. Her smile was back. The Mikayla smile. She sighed when Alex’s cock pushed through the tight entrance… leaned back. Moved only her hips, up and down, gyrating, her ass cheeks touched his legs and that almost made him pass out. He looked down, and her belly button was opening and closing, like a breathing mouth, with every move of her hips… she fucked herself on his cock and he felt her toenails raking the skin on his back.
She looked so beautiful. Her face red, from the slaps and the rape, wet with tears and one fake eyelash was hanging off the corner of her right eye. Beautiful. Her face so relaxed, the anger, the resentment, the tension, all gone. The smile was not a come-on smile, it was the smile you have in a rocking chair, right before you fall asleep.
“It’s coming…” In a kind voice, matter-of-fact, so relaxed.
Alex looked down. The first time he really saw it, looked at it. His cock… it was covered in blood and white, creamy goo, not sure if all of it was his. Mikayla’s pussy… just a slit in perfect tanned skin, stretched open, and he could see the little pink fold of flesh and the little hole on top and the pulsing knob. He tried to remember what this thing was called. But before it came to him, Mikayla came to him… came on him… came all over him. It looked like water coming through the edges of a porthole, like in those submarine movies. It sprayed out all around his cock, it came in waves, first single drops, then single jets and then a whole splash. And again. Three waves, and Mikayla didn’t make a sound. They both looked at it. Looked at the little freshman squirting. Not a sound.
Mikayla started to move again… faster now… a whimper from her lips when she found the right angle and could drop her whole body down on his cock. Alex tried to hold her, but she pushed his hand away. “Let me…”
He leaned forward. His forehead against hers. Looking into Mikayla’s eyes. Both breathing hard. Little drops of spit flew from both their lips into the other one’s face. Alex matched her rhythm, he rammed up when she let her body fall, he pulled back when she pulled up, using both her legs and arms to get into position for the next drop. Minutes. Many minutes. The only sound the wet smacks when her pussy took the whole length of his cock — and a few pussy farts when he pulled out too far and pushed air into her 14-year-old womb.
She came again, slow this time, not a pressure cooker exploding, but a soft release, and they kissed for the second time in their life when her orgasm was building and climaxing and ebbing… Alex had no idea how to kiss properly, but Mikayla showed him… showed him that she liked it when he held her lower lips between his… showed him where to bite and when to bite. That the tongue shouldn’t go too deep, but that the tips can really dance with each other, Slow.
His breath quickened.
“Again?”
He nodded. Sweat on his forehead and Mikayla licked it off.
“Inside.. Please… inside me…”
Of course, he should’ve protested… pulled out… but… this was Mikayla Mauss’ pussy. Her womb. He touched her cheek. Her lips found his thumb, and she sucked on it… a little love bite, harder than it needed to be… her tongue on the tip of his thumb… scratching herself with his thumbnail.
And then he came… pushed into her hard, lifted her up, pressed her back against the wall, breathed into her mouth and she breathed into his… and he groaned, loud and deep, and he couldn’t muffle her scream in time, it sounded like a high-pitched screech, from deep inside, starting with the first spurt inside of her and reaching new heights with each spasm into her young womb. He held her mouth shut a long time after he stopped cumming. And she licked the palm of his hand on her mouth.
Down. Slowly. He waited until she had found her footing. Until she could stand, but she stood hunched over. It smelled like sperm. A lot of it. And something else. Sweeter. And the metallic scent of blood. There was a big puddle on the floor between them, a mix of all the fluids they had shared and exchanged.
Mikayla bent down, pulled the other leg of her pants back on, pulled them halfway up. Pause. She reached between her legs, her hand came back, dripping with his semen and her pussy juice. And with a flick of her wrist, she splattered it all over the rows of books on his bookshelf.
“Fucking loser”.
But she said it with a smile. Mikayla’s smile. And then she was gone.