Page 33 of Most Likely to Match
“I haven’t watched this since…” I trail off. Since high school. Before all the streaming services. When it was cable. Maybe satellite, if you were lucky enough to have parents who splurged for it.Red Heel Storieswas classic school lore that someone heard about from their older brother or the senior on the varsity team.
Soft-core porn you could watch on cable if you were willing tostay up late enough on Friday or Saturday nights. And if you were lucky enough not to get caught.
Suddenly, the TV is integral to what is going on beneath the blanket. The building tension on screen is mirrored in every touch, every quiet question and pleading demand. Soon, my hand is caught in his hair behind me, his leg levering one of my own so I’m spread wide for him on the couch. His pants are pushed lower, the elastic of his underwear caught like a vise around his knees. His cock leaves a wet kiss at the base of my spine with every jerky thrust.
“Stop,” he whispers. “Stop.” He keeps me pinned to him with one hand, clumsily batting at my hand in his hair with the other. “You keep pulling like that and I’m gonna blow faster than the first time you sucked me off.”
I laugh. A sharp, loud cackle, because the first time I sucked him off— in my car, parked behind an elementary school, no less— he came upon contact, for so long that I finally had to pull away, afraid I would choke. It was my first time tasting come. I liked it, though. After some clumsy fingering in the back seat, he finally got his first— also clumsy— blow job.
He shushes me, laughing too, the sound physical against my back as much as in my ear, but before either of us can contain ourselves, the door at the top of the stairs opens.
“Dean?” a male voice, his father, calls.
We freeze. Thank god the TV is on mute and the only light is the lamp. Thank god he can’t see us from the top of the stairs, the couches set too far back in the room.
“Yeah,” he says after an awkward moment. His voice is rough. “Sorry, did we wake you?”
“We?” The floor above us creaks, and the shadow his dad casts in the light upstairs moves with the sound.
Dean’s heart hammers against me. “Just watching some movies with a friend.” The wince in his voice is audible, to me at least.
“Oh,” his dad says. “Okay.” And he blessedly shuts the door. We track his movement around the kitchen by his footsteps until, finally, it’s quiet again.
“Holy shit,” Dean whispers into the back of my neck.
I start to laugh again, this time quietly, shaking against his body. He pulls me closer as he laughs, too. Laughing and shaking turns to rubbing, though, and then it’s like there was no interruption at all. “Is this weird for you?” I ask, not wanting to mention his parents outright.
“I mean, yeah, but…” His shoulders shrug against me. “Are you okay?” he asks. “To keep going?”
I turn my head enough to look at him. “I really want you to come, Dean.”
He lowers his mouth to mine, another rough, graceless kiss made all the better because it’s uncomfortable. “Okay.” He rests his forehead on my temple. “I’ll come for you.”
I reach for him, but he stops me again. “Is it okay if I rub on you?” he asks. “Without a condom?” From this angle, in this light, it’s hard to see much of him, other than his eye, closed, lashes a fan over his skin. “I know we haven’t talked about…protection, but I don’t have anything that could…” His throat bobs as he swallows. “I won’t hurt you.”
I touch my fingertips to his cheekbone, the shell of his ear. “I won’t hurt you either,” I say, and I wish he was looking at me. I wish he could hear that I mean more than in this moment, that I have nothing thatcouldhurt him, that Iwon’thurt him. Not again. If it’s up to me, I won’t let him get hurt. “I have an IUD, too.” I present the option, like an offer, one that I’ve considered more and more seriously the more he’s touched me tonight.
But he shakes his head. “Is this okay?” he asks, guiding his cock between my thighs where my skin is slick and wet. He releases a breath, a wordless, punctuatedumph, as he glides against my opening, my vulva, his cockhead rubbing my clit. “Is it?” he asks again.
“Yeah.” I nod, already anticipating the next slide, the next bump, pressing my ass back into him when it comes. Our movements are measured in inches, millimeters, hips limited by the surface area of the couch and the scant amount of space between my legs.
Every time he slips past my hole, I hope, the littlest bit, thathe might accidentally slip inside me. That this pretend sex, so much like the kind being done on screen, might turn into the real thing. Like once he’s inside me, he might as well stay there, finish there.
The thought of it, that it could happen, makes me wetter, until I have to reach my hand down to rub my clit in a stuttering rhythm in time with his cock. “Come for me.” It comes out like a question, an appeal. “Come like this,” I breathe. “Come with me,” I say, panicked because I feel all of it now, too much, every brush of skin against skin, between my legs.
I don’t want to go without him.
“I’m coming for you baby,” he says, and that makes me come, my body rigid, my fingers and his dick clamped between my thighs. I press my face into the pillow, my voice into the stuffing, as he rubs himself one last time across my empty hole, against my slick skin, and comes, too, on my hand, between my legs, into my pubic hair, and on the couch.
“Okay,”I say, wincing in the harsh light of my phone screen. “Jasmine wrote an essay, but she confirms:coldwater.” I look at Dean, standing in the doorway of his parents’ laundry room, a single yellow bulb glowing behind him, lending an interrogatory feeling to an already illicit activity. “She wants to stress that it cannot be hot. It must be cold.”
He nods and disappears into the laundry room. A moment later, I hear a tap running.
“We’ll blot the stain gently.” I read her instructions aloud as he comes back with a bleach-stained towel. “And if that doesn’t work, we use a weak detergent…what makes it weak?”
He shakes his head, crouched over the offended couch cushion. “I have no idea. Dilute it?”
“Or an upholstery cleaning spray—”
