NOTE: **I added a lewdity indicator to chapter titles. I'm going to leave the poll up in case the results lean the other way in the future. Thanks for reading!**
In the middle of the night, Bobby woke up from a dream where he had been fucking Megan. He still remembered the sheen of sweat on her back and how her cheeks rippled as his hips crashed into her. Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, cock pinned to his abdomen by his short’s waistband. He pushed it down and sideways.
He stumbled into the kitchen and drank a glass of sink water. The TV was still on, and he crept into the room, quiet as Santa. Brenda was asleep on the couch, flat on her stomach and ass exposed with one knee lifted up to her chest. He stared down at his cock and shook his head. Maybe he could ask Alex where to get some sleeping pills. Bobby didn’t find himself attracted to her, but the thought of defiling his awful sister brought a smirk to his face.
Maybe I can cum on her foot, he thought and shook his head violently. Better wait for some knockout drugs. His eyes widened, Bobby still had a condom full of jizz in his drawer. Just one little drop in her hair would surely warrant a few thousand dollars. He hurried back to his room.
Opening the drawer, he studied the condom. It was tied so tight that he would have cut off the knot. He searched his cluttered desk and found what he was looking for. Scissor in hand, he snipped the top off the condom, and it fell to the carpet soundlessly. Bobby brought the now opened end to his nose, sniffing. Recoiling in horror, he barely kept hold of the thing. “Gah,” he muttered. It must have gone bad, he thought, disgusted.
He picked up the end that had fallen away and rushed to the bathroom. It was too funky to spill on his sister; she would surely smell it and wake up immediately.
*
The next morning, Bobby was up early and set the wrapped ‘friends’ frame on his mattress, leaving the other two gifts safely hidden under his bed alongside the remaining Porkemon stuff. Alessio had texted him, saying the letter was typed and should do nicely as an apology. Bobby had responded, offering to pick him up for school and hadn’t heard back yet.
His phone pinged. It was Alex, informing him that he was outside waiting. Bobby had paid the man his money upfront, figuring he would get robbed or he wouldn’t and hadn’t worried about it from there. Alex turned out to be trustworthy as far as his day one duties were concerned. At least he wasn’t honking the horn.
He quickly got dressed and snuck outside, gently setting the massively expensive gift in the trunk. Alex’s face was puffy, with red creases along his cheek and forehead. “You look like garbage,” Bobby said, buckling his seat belt.
Grunting, Alex put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I get up at nine most days, and I forgot to change the timer on my coffee pot,” he said, scratching the stubble lining his jaw.
“Do you remember where Alessio lives?” Bobby asked. “I need to pick something up from his house, and him maybe.”
Alex gave a sigh and yawned loudly. “Yeah,” he said, tapping his temple. “I’ve been oObering for five years and recent rides kind of get stuck in my head for a while. I’ll be in the store or on a date and poof, I recognize someone I gave a ride to, and their destination pops into my mind.”
Bobby chuckled. “It’s working out for you,” he said, patting the center arm rest. “This is a great fucking car.”
Alex changed lanes, speeding by a vehicle about to turn. “I do alright,” he said. “No one has puked in this car yet, luckily. It’s always drunk girls who do the spewing.”
Alessio texted him back. “Mom wants to drop me off,” it read.
“No worries, can I come by to pick up the letter?” Bobby texted.
“Yeah, but hurry,” Alessio replied.
Bobby put the phone down, tucking it under a leg. “Have any of those girls ever given you a blowjob as a bonus?” he asked, smirking.
Alex laughed, tilting his head. “Eh, a horny fat chick did once and an older lady took me up to her place,” he said, rubbing his elbow. “Both happened after I got the Mercedes.”
Snickering, Bobby said, “How are you going to teach me anything when you only got lucky twice?”
Alex snorted, turning on his blinker and got in the right lane. “That’s twice on the job, kid, with women I only knew for fifteen minutes,” he corrected, holding up a finger. “Outside of work, I get plenty of pussy. I’m fucking a pair of strippers right now and a barista.” New chapters come out on novelping.com first.
“Oh, that’s pretty good,” Bobby relented. “I’ve gotten my dick sucked a couple times and some handjobs but that’s it.”
“Not bad,” Alex said, grinning. “What are you, a sophomore?”
“I’m a senior,” Bobby corrected.
“Never mind, you’ve been lagging,” Alex said and turned, using one hand to manipulate the wheel. “You should stop wasting your money on teachers, unless you think you have a chance of fucking them. I had Mrs. Anderson my senior year too, you know, and there’s no way in hell she fucks a student. Fancy dates and charm is the only way to go at your age. Take a girl somewhere nice and she’ll be creaming her pants by the end of the night. Lift weights too, join the football team. Even better if you’re good.”
Bobby watched Alessio’s house grow bigger and bigger. “Having a driver can’t hurt either,” Bobby said, crooked smile tugging his lip. “A driver that can buy me vodka and shit.”
Parking across from Alessio’s house, Alex said, “Illegal stuff will cost you extra and if any of your little girlfriends’ puke in my car, you’re cleaning it up.”
Bobby hopped out, ignoring Alex’s final words and jogged up to Alessio’s front door. He knocked. Alex hadn’t said no about booze, which was a good sign and the fact that the man knew strippers was a bonus. They were known for loving all kinds of drugs.
Alessio’s mom answered, wearing a tight-fitting yellow dress that sat just above the knees. Alessio’s dad must have been darker skinned because his mother was pale and had orange hair, woven into a braid that disappeared down her back. “Good morning, Bobby,” she said, stepping aside. “The letter is on the kitchen table. Alessio is in the shower but come in and grab it.”
“Thanks, Ms. Granger,” he said, walking past her and caught the scent of coffee in the air. He decided against asking for a cup for Alex; the guy could get some later. There was an envelope sitting on the table with neat cursive writing that spelled out ‘Mrs. Anderson.’
“How are your studies coming?” Ms. Granger asked.
The woman had a rather large nose that dropped halfway down the bridge, and she wore little makeup. Bobby wouldn’t call her pretty, but she did have nice legs and breasts. “No complaints,” he said and grabbed the letter.
*
Peeking through Mrs. Anderson’s window, Bobby sighed and slowly opened the door, her gift under one arm. It was fifteen minutes before school started, and she was already sitting behind her table, grading papers with a frown on her face. She looked up, meeting his eye, expression unchanging.
He cursed himself inwardly for not calling Kate to make sure they had spoken. Clearing his throat, he said, “Morning, Mrs. Anderson. Do you have a minute?” Bobby shuffled his feet, stopping in front of her.
“Good morning, Bobby, what can I do for you?” she asked, setting down her red marker.
Bobby gave a little cough. “Did um, did Kate give you a call yesterday?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably. There was no way he’d hand over the framed shirt without confirmation.
Mrs. Anderson’s eyes narrowed. “She did, sang your praises as if you were her own flesh and blood,” she said sharply. “Referred to you as an angel in fact.” Mrs. Anderson’s tone implied that her own opinion differed on the matter.
He took a lung full of air, gulping, and Bobby placed the gift in front of her. “It’s from Alessio and me,” he said, adding the envelope next to the bow. “Kate mentioned some things you like, and I decided to get this for you. As an apology for what I did in your class and the other times I’ve misbehaved.”
Her lips were pressed into a thin line. “How kind of you,” she said flatly, unmoved by the gesture. “Now beat it, I have work to do.”
When it was time for Mrs. Anderson’s class, Bobby met Alessio at his locker. Alessio was hurriedly munching a bag of leftover chips. “Did you give it to her?” Alessio asked, dumping crumbs into his mouth. Read this novel at NovelPing for the best experience.
“Yeah,” Bobby replied.
The bag crinkled as Alessio balled it up. “Well?” he asked eagerly. “Did it work?”
Bobby shrugged slowly. “I couldn’t tell,” he replied. “She sent me away without opening it.”
“Hmm,” Alessio muttered, closing his locker.
They joined the crowd of rushing students. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Bobby said, avoiding a collision with a football player.
Alessio drew the back of his hand across his forehead. “I’m nervous, no teacher has ever yelled at me like that before,” he admitted.
“You got off easy,” Bobby said, recalling an incident where spittle had flown directly into his face. Walking into her classroom, he didn’t see the gift anywhere; not on the table near her desk, not on her desk, not on the floor where she sometimes kept her purse, and not in the trash. Unless it was buried at the bottom.
Mrs. Anderson was writing on the markerboard with her back turned. She was wearing a maroon, sleeveless shirt that buttoned, made of material that shimmered as her tattooed arm moved. It was tucked into extremely faded jeans. She had a little butt, nothing special but it had some shape to it.
As if sensing Bobby’s eyes on her, she turned, locking gazes with him. She dismissed him a moment later to look at Alessio. Their teacher didn’t spend much time on Alessio either and went back to what she had been doing. The woman didn’t rage at them, so that was something.
When the bell rang after class, Mrs. Anderson pointed at them. “You two, stay,” she said forcefully.
The final student fleeing, Mrs. Anderson strode up to their table and crossed her arms. Glared at each of them in turn. She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. She definitely unwrapped it, Bobby thought.
Her expression softened. “Whose idea was it to get me that?” she asked.
Alessio audibly sighed. “Bobby’s, and he paid for everything,” Alessio spat the words out like a speed reader, as if he couldn’t hold back the flood. “I just went with and only selected one of the things. Please, don’t be mad at us.” He interlocked his fingers in front of his face, hope in his eyes, and Bobby suppressed a grin.
Mrs. Anderson pinched the bridge of her nose. The muscles in her jaw rippled. “Thank you,” she said. “The letter was particularly well written and endearing, Alessio, I’m assuming you wrote it?”
Alessio glanced at Bobby, hair swishing. “He wrote it,” Bobby said. “Alessio is more…” he paused, searching for the correct word.
The ghost of a smile played at Mrs. Anderson’s lips. “Eloquent than you?” she proposed.
“Yeah,” Bobby agreed, nodding.
Alessio’s fingers drummed the table nervously. “Did you like it?” he asked softly.
“Ugh,” Mrs. Anderson growled lightly. “What am I going to do with you two. Yes, Alessio, it was thoughtful.” Her eyes roved over Bobby, then Alessio. “Go on, get yourselves some lunch.”