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I know I’m supposed to call you Mr. Thomas now, but when we started with tutoring you always said to call you Mason…so this invitation is for Mason.
I’m having a little party tonight for my eighteenth birthday. I don’t know who else will come, but I wanted to be sure to invite you because you’ve helped me so much this last year. I’m sure I would have lost my scholarship without you. Also, I sort of thought we were kind of friends maybe?
Anyway, it’s, like, super cas. I’ll have some snacks and whatever, no gifts of course.
Nine o’clock. My address is 727 Cumming Ave, three doors east of Pearl’s Pawnshop/Liquor Store. Hope you can make it.
Jenny
I bring the paper to my face with one hand while my other works the button open on my pants, then the zipper, and my erection practically rips through the opening on my boxers to get free.
I inhale, the invitation covering my nose and mouth as I start to stroke myself. I’ve practically given my cock calluses yanking on it so much since I first saw her face. The face of a girl I shouldn’t want. I told myself it was okay, it’s just fantasy, I’m not really touching her.
But now she’s eighteen.
And she wants me to come to her party.
I’ll come alright, my little fox. I only wish it was in your mouth. Or your pussy. Your ass would be—
I’m jolted out of my depravity as my phone starts playing Who let the dogs out. My brother, Michael, set that as his ring tone, telling me I needed to let my own dogs out, so to speak.
I slap the invitation down on the table and hit the speaker button on the phone. Thank fuck he didn’t want to facetime, because he’d be getting a big fucking screen full of my swollen dick and we may be brothers, but we don’t share everything.
“What?” I grit out, fighting to get my hard-on back in my pants.
“What the fuck is your problem, ass?” He barks back and I hear wind or rain in the background. “I’m out on the boat, having fun. Wondered what you were doing.”
“I’m having fun,” I answer as I struggle with the zipper on my jeans, gritting my teeth as I bend my dick in half, trying to corral it back into place.
“You are not. I bet you’re sitting at your desk, doing nano whatever. You need to get out, man. Get laid. Girl or guy, I don’t care…”
“Maybe both,” I snap back.
“Dude, I know you’re straight. Just busting your balls. But Mom’s got grandbaby fever and I’m not done sowing my wild oats, so the daddy pressure is on you, bud. Get out there and breed.”
It’s ironic because I always had this vague notion of being a husband and father someday. But it never felt real, not until I met Jenny. Now, my dreams are filled with her running around the house with a baby on her hip and her belly full.
“I’m working on it,” I hear myself say as I get my pants back together, then press my thumbs into my eye sockets, wondering why I just fucking said that.
“What?” Michael hoots. “Seriously? You actually have some interest in something that doesn’t involve numbers or chaos theory or whatever? Wait…” He mocks in a serious tone. “You don’t have some like, AI girl you’re obsessed with? With like a supercomputer brain and you guys mutually masturbate to like super high-level math or physics equations?”
“No, dick. Never mind.”
I’m only half listening as I pick up the invitation, my phone and my keys. Michael’s laughter and jabs barely register as I head through to the cavernous garage and get into my one other indulgence, a 1966 Mustang Mach 1 Concept, painted jet black. I turn the ignition, the engine roaring to life as I press the garage door button and give one last second to try to talk myself out of what I’m about to do.
It doesn’t work, and I back out of the garage, changing the subject while I drive, asking Michael about school and trying to keep one foot in reality as I head toward Cumming Ave.
By the time I turn the corner two blocks from her house, my thoughts are manic. Adrenaline is rushing through me like a lava flow.
“I gotta go.” I slow the car, the engine rumbling under me.
“Okay, loser. I’m heading back to the dock. Just sitting out here, the water is dark, the wind is perfect, I’m fucking happy out here, man. Thanks to you.”
Michael has had an obsession with the water and sailing since he was little. On his fourteenth birthday, I bought him his first starter sailboat and hired a mentor to teach him. He’s won a handful of the highest-level youth single-handed sailing races since then.
