It had been a hard eight-hour workday at the mall, painting the concrete entrances out in the scalding summer sun. Many times I asked myself why the hell I took this job. Was $24.50 an hour worth getting up at six in the morning when I could be sleeping in during the summer? Was it worth sweating like a pig in front of the sexy and underage teenyboppers coming in to shop every day? Fuck no. But in hindsight, I took the job right after I broke up with my girlfriend Vanessa and failed a semester of community college, so I was sort of frustrated with life and didn’t see myself doing much. Certainly not getting any from Vanessa.
So while I drove out of the Mall parking lot with my fifth (and probably last) paycheck, there was one thing, and one thing only, floating in my mind. I needed to get HIGH. Now I swear to you I’m not a chronic pothead, but once in a while I need a little herbal refreshment to just help unwind myself. Unfortunately, I only know one person to get real good ganja from, and that’s Big Bill.
Bill and I had a falling out since graduating high school. It was just one of those things. Looking back, I can’t tell if we were EVER friends, maybe just two guys who hung out and didn’t hate each other. After high school, he left for a college way out in the mountains and I stayed in my hometown to go to community college since my GPA and SAT scores were a little less than satisfactory. During the summer hiatus, he called me a few times, probably because he was bored and everyone else was at the beach, but for whatever reason, it proved we were still on speaking terms.
“Hello?” a deep fried southern voice answered the phone.
“Sup, dawg?” I responded with his favorite phrase.
“Who is this?” “It’s Vern, man. Don’t you recognize me?” Probably not.
“Oh! Wassup, dawg. You sound different for some reason. Are you calling from a cell phone?”
“Yeah I just got off work and I’m kinda in the mood to RELAX, with some of your help, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you want Trav. Come on over, no one’s here. I was thinking about blazing some of this real fine bud that I got.”
“Cool, bro. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Cool, man. See ya later, dawg.”
Twenty minutes later I arrived at his front door. I heard the Pearl Jam blaring from the inside. Yep, no one was home alright. Otherwise his father would have told him to turn that shit off a long time ago. After ringing the doorbell fifty-something times, Bill swung open the door wearing a tie-dye shirt with Grateful Dead teddy bears swirling all over it. “Wassup, dawg?!!” He howled as held up his hand and smacked me on the side of my arm. Ow. “Sup.”
“Hey make yourself at home, I’m gonna go and get the bud.”
“What? You don’t have it yet?”
“No, didn’t I say I had to go get it when you got here?”
I gave him that annoyed look in which he responded by turning around and unlocking the driver door of his Blazer. “What am I gonna do while you’re gone?” “I dunno. Maybe you should take a shower, you kinda stink.”
“Yeah,” I thought to myself, “maybe you should try manual labor for eight straight hours and then see how you smell.” I kept from saying this out loud to avoid sounding like my old man. “The XBox’s hooked up in the den, I’m only gonna be ten minutes.” This, in Bill time, is half an hour. You’d be surprised how old he considers himself.
Unfortunately I wasn’t into video games. I was 19 after all. But being alone in Bill’s house started to become very interesting. I always fantasized about breaking into a house. I wondered if I could pull it off, even if the homeowners were still inside. I’m sure I could. I’ve had a lot of practice not being noticed in high school. I went up the stairs and entered the first room on the left. It was Eloise’s room.
Eloise was Bill’s 15-year-old sister. Five foot three. Long, wavy brown hair. Smooth legs. Braces. Yet there was a quiet sexiness to her. Maybe it was because she was young and vulnerable. But every time she would come into the kitchen to get a snack to eat, while all us guys were goofing around, wearing a small white t-shirt and short Mickey Mouse boxers, I thought things that none of the other guys were thinking. Taking her, pulling her down, and totally corrupting her. Even for a freshman in high school who was related to Bill, she managed to contain an object of lust under her skin of gawkiness. She had small tennis ball breasts and a round bundle of ass and BRACES, my God, BRACES!! She was 15, but she had the power to stiffen my cock by just the thought of her.
In her room, filled with One Direction posters and plastic Big Bang Theory bobbleheads and one of those Cat in the Hat hats that went out of style a few years ago, I was in the mood to do something naughty. I opened up the top drawer of her dresser and found an assorted bunch of panties, boxers, and G-strings! Eloise wore G-strings! I couldn’t believe it, though her mouth-watering, handful of butt was her best feature.
I took a black & white-checkered pair of panties and opened it up. It was fairly big to fit the size of Eloise’s bulging butt cheeks. I put the crotch of the panties against my nose and took a whiff. Just what I thought, they were washed. But just the thought that I had a piece of fabric in my hands that were pressed up against the nether regions of Bill’s little sister was enough to put my tepee up.
I laid back on Eloise’s bed and unzipped my jeans. The head of my penis was already poking out of the fly of my plaid, cotton boxers. A thick bubble of milky cum popped up and slowly started to slide off the edge making my cock resemble a snake rising out of my pants and sticking its white tongue out with a silent hiss.
I wiped the cum off the tip of my raging bull with Eloise’s panties and smiled at the fact that the clean underwear was now tainted with my filth. I gripped my dick with the checkered undies and started to stroke the shaft, licking my lips to the beautiful feel of the cotton fabric jerking me off and desperately wishing it was Eloise with her small hands.
Visions of Eloise in so many naughty positions ran through my mind in kinetic electricity. I pumped harder. I taught this image of the young girl to talk in a dirty language similar to the lingo of amateurish porn movies. I imagined her being mean to my cock, to bitch at me and call me names and then take my dick her mouth. I imagined what it would feel like when those braces rubbed against my cock as she forced into her throat, deep enough until she got a taste of my balls and then pulling it out until she chocked on the damn thing.
I came instantly and as that cream sprayed all over the crotch of her panties, I imagined it spraying all over her face and greasy, braided hair. Globs of it between her braces, up her nostril, and smacking her tightly shut eyelids.
I was so into the fantasy, I didn’t hear the front door open. I lifted the soiled panties from my cock and smiled at my little victory. I wiped the remaining cum off my dick and heard footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart froze in my chest and for some reason my speed-of-light instant reaction was to jump into the closet directly in front of me.
As I stood there in the dark with lines of light from the outside bedroom striping my naked lower body, with Eloise’s panties dripping with fresh semen in my right hand, and my jeans down to my sweaty ankles, I heard Eloise’s bedroom door open and held my breath…