Page 5 of Hefty

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“Hey, Jilly Beans.” I tip her chin up to make sure I have her attention. “You don’t have to do a damn thing until you’re ready.”

“What if I am ready?” she whispers, sounding out of breath. “For sex.”

Christ. My cock throbs, producing moisture at the tip. I have to grit my teeth. But at the same time, my heart is breaking. How long until I have to watch her with another guy? She’s always been blessedly single. Look at her, though. She’s fucking gorgeous. Throw in her sense of humor, quirks and sweet personality and she’s irresistible. How long did I reasonably expect her to be alone? How is she alone at all? “I don’t know, Jill,” I say quietly.

“It would have to be someone I trust.”

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely.

She looks up at me through her eyelashes. “The thing is, you’re the only guy I trust.”

It takes me a moment to decipher the words that come out of Jill’s mouth. Mostly because I can’t fathom she means what she’s saying. Maybe I’ve been fantasizing about her for so long, my brain is starting to send mixed signals around the real life girl? I know she’s not interested in me sexually. That would be insane. Wouldn’t it? Keep dreaming.

But then she touches me.

Her fingertips trail up the center of my chest. “What about you, Zach? Have you ever thought about…exploring? With someone you trust?”

My balls squeeze up into my stomach and I briefly see double. This isn’t real. Jill can’t be asking me to hook up. I must be dreaming. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

Hurt flashes in her eyes. “No.” She starts to take her hand back, the color deepening on her cheeks. “Maybe you don’t trust me.”

I snare her wrist.

And in doing so, I accidentally let go of the hem of my shirt.

Her eyes dart to my lap. Of course they do. My embarrassingly large dick is stretching the nylon crotch of my football pants so thin, you can make out the veins, the ridges, the spot of semen I couldn’t hold back.

I expect her to be horrified. She should be horrified. This guy she’s supposed to trust, this guy she innocently invited to sit beside her, has been aroused the whole time.

Never in a million years do I expect her to touch it.

“Zach,” she breathes, squeezing my cock in her little hand, sliding her palm up and down the thick ridge. Fondling me. “Y-you do want to…to experiment with me?”

There’s a wet sponge stuck in my throat, so all I can do is nod.

She’s not just an angel. She’s a saint. I can’t believe she’d even think about doing this for me. Does she have any clue I’ve been sick with hunger over her since puberty?

I’ve spent so long trying to subdue my lust for Jill, the sudden unfettered onslaught of it threatens to wipe my mind clean. But my first instinct is always to protect her, so I turn my body slightly, blocking her from view of anyone who might venture to the back of the bus. I reach down and blindly pull a sweatshirt from her cheerleading bag, positioning it over my lap and she strokes me underneath it, her hand working me through the nylon. And I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t fucking believe it.

Eyes glassy, she leans up and whispers in my ear. “Can I put my hand inside your pants?”

Oh my God.

“Yes,” I choke out. “But I’m going to…I-I’m going to…”

“Come?” she breathes, delving her hand inside the nylon and gripping my bare shaft.

My head falls back against the seat, my jaw tightened to the point of pain. Jill’s hand is on my cock. She’s touching my cock. Stroking it top to bottom, her breaths pelting my neck. I know there is something I should be doing here, but I’m totally immobile, at the mercy of her warm, curious fingertips, the way she tests different speeds, different pressures. I look down and watch her slender forearm move, the sweatshirt lifting up and down in my lap with every stroke. Oh my God, I’ve got about ten seconds left, but I bear down and try to hold on. This might never happen again. All I’ll have is this memory of the time she caught me with an erection and had pity on me.

“Does it feel good?” she asks against my shoulder.

“So good,” I say in a burst, sweating breaking out on my forehead. “Ahh baby. Faster.”

“Baby,” she echoes dreamily, beating me off quicker, quicker, precome greasing her palm. “Can you kiss me while I’m touching you?”

That’s what I’m supposed to be doing.

At least, that’s what my instinct tells me. I probably haven’t tried to kiss her, because the whole possibility of her wanting my lips on hers has always seemed unfathomable. But with my balls growing tighter, fuller, and the impossible already taking place, I turn my head, dip down and seal our mouths together. She whimpers in her throat, her hand briefly pausing on my cock, before continuing with her perfect, perfect pumps.