tagToys & MasturbationGoody Two-Shoes Ch. 02

Goody Two-Shoes Ch. 02

byKarennaC©

A week had gone by and I hadn't heard from Jay. When he'd dropped me off after taking my virginity, he'd promised to be in touch, but so far, nothing. Had he meant any of the things he'd said? Had it really meant anything at all to him that he'd been my first?

Probably not. He had plenty of women to fuck; he'd admitted that to me. And none of them were scared, geeky little virgins who'd never even French kissed a guy before. Jay had been my first kiss, my first oral sex, and my first fuck, all in the same night. I'd been crushing on him since I was nine; now that I was eighteen, I thought I was finally getting what I'd always wanted. Evidently I'd been kidding myself.

I went through the days in my usual way, college classes, working, and coming home to be treated like a child by my parents. They didn't seem to grasp the concept of eighteen being an adult, though they'd certainly had no problem with it when my older brother Randy had hit eighteen. He was a boy, though, which apparently made all the difference.

Randy picked me up after work every day; my parents hadn't let me get my driver's license yet, though that was one thing I was saving for. About a week after my day with Jay, Randy asked me, "Why are you so mopey lately? You act like your best friend's goldfish just died."

"I'm not mopey. I've just been thinking," I replied. Thinking about Jay and wondering if I'd made huge mistake by letting him fuck me, but I didn't want to say that to Randy. He and Jay had a history; they'd been best friends until a fight over a girl in high school had split them. Randy had warned me to stay away from Jay, and I'd ignored him. Now I had to wonder if he'd been right.

"Thinking about who?" Randy asked.

"Don't you mean about what?"

"Nope. I know that look. You're thinking about a guy. Who is it, someone in one of your classes?"

Randy was eight years older than me, and had always been there to listen through my junior high and high school struggles. Not that I'd ever talked to him about guys then; I'd never had a boyfriend, hadn't even been out on anything I'd have considered a date until Jay. But talking to Randy always made me feel better. I was tempted to tell him the truth, but I knew how he'd respond if he found out I'd been with Jay. "No, someone I met at work," I replied.

"Have you had a date with him? No, you must not have; Mom and Dad haven't said anything about you going on any dates, and they probably wouldn't have let you go anyway."

"All of you need to stop thinking I'm twelve or something," I snapped. "I'm eighteen. You moved into your own apartment when you were eighteen. I don't even have to live with Mom and Dad anymore if I don't want to, and I certainly don't need their permission to work or date or get my license or anything."

"That's true, you don't." Randy was quiet for a moment. "We do kind of treat you like a kid, don't we?"

"Not just kind of. You all treat me completely like a kid. Mom and Dad act like I'm still in junior high instead of college; they made me stay home instead of moving into a dorm. I feel like none of you trust me to take care of myself and do what's right, and that's a shitty feeling to get from my own family. I've never had a boyfriend, and at this rate I never will, because half the time I can't even leave the house. You're no better than Mom and Dad."

"I don't tell you not to go out on dates or anything."

"No, but like that stuff about Jay Christian a few days ago. You threatened to tell Mom and Dad about the store being robbed if I didn't promise not to see Jay again. It's none of your business who I see. If it's a mistake to date someone, I'll figure it out."

"I'm just trying to help you, Sam. Jay isn't a good person. It's as simple as that. I don't want to see you hurt."

"But shouldn't I have the chance to be hurt? You and our parents can't keep me wrapped in cotton balls all my life."

"Good point. But try to be unwrapped with someone other than Jay." Randy laughed. "That totally didn't come out right. Sorry, sis."

"It's okay."

"So tell me more about this guy you've been thinking about. How old is he?"

"I don't want to talk about him."

"Sam, come on. I didn't mean to tick you off."

"I don't want to talk about him," I repeated. I didn't. Why would I talk to Randy about Jay? No matter what I said, he was determined to believe that Jay was a bad person. I didn't feel like dealing with his reaction if he knew how badly I'd fallen for Jay. Or what I'd let Jay do to me.

Randy often came into the house to talk to Mom and Dad when he dropped me off, but today he didn't bother. Maybe he'd gotten the clue that I didn't want to listen to anyone, and if he'd come in, it would have been a big family conference, just like it always was. And it would have ended up focused on me, just like it always did. I was far from in the mood for that.

I went inside and after a few minutes of small talk with my parents, went to my room to do homework. I had a computer in my room; it was one of the few contacts my parents allowed me with the outside world. Well, okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but I was the only eighteen-year-old I knew who didn't have a cell phone and never got calls at home from anyone. I'd only been given the computer because Randy had backed up my claim that I needed it for schoolwork.

Of course, school wasn't the only thing I used it for. I had an email account and instant messenger; I even received instant messages once in a while, usually from strangers who'd seen my profile on the email site. It wasn't much of an outside contact, but it was better than nothing. And surfing the Internet gave me a way to find out more about the world that my parents seemed bound and determined to guard me from till I died.

I turned on the computer and sat on my bed to start the reading I had to do for my literature class. After a few seconds, I heard the tone that alerted me to a new email. Someone had emailed me? I went over to my desk and opened my email account. The sender's name was jay26789. Pretty obvious who it was from; at least, I hoped I was right. I opened it and read:

"Hey, sexy, been thinking about you. Sorry I haven't been in touch; you know how things can get. You haven't been out of my mind, though. Hope you've had good thoughts of our date. I'd like to get together again this weekend. Drop a line back if you're interested. Jay."

I clicked reply and typed, "I'm interested. When and where, and how did you get my email?"

I sent it and went back to my lit book, not expecting an immediate reply. But it was only a few minutes before I heard the email tone again. The new mail said, "Meet me at the library again. Same time as before. Plan on seeing Tillie; maybe you'll get your clothes back. And plan on a few new things. As for the email, I have ways. Catch you later. Jay."

I didn't answer this one; it didn't seem to need an answer. But instead of starting to read again, I lay on my bed and pictured the last date I'd had with Jay. Undressing in front of him and his friend Tillie had made me wet, and the memory of it had the same effect. So did the memory of Jay groping me in front of Tillie. Then when Jay'd gotten me back to his place... the fingering, the oral sex, and finally the fucking... Damn, just thinking about it made me so horny I couldn't help myself.

I unzipped my jeans and shoved my hand inside, finding my clit with one finger. Until Jay had shown me, I hadn't even known where my clit was, dumb as that sounded. But now I rubbed it harder and harder with my finger as images of Jay ran through my mind. What would we do this weekend? The possibilities were endless, even though I didn't really know what those possibilities might be. I didn't have enough experience to imagine all the things Jay and I could do, but I knew I wanted him to do anything and everything to me.

As I thought about what Jay had already done to me and daydreamed about what he could do, my finger moved faster on my clit. Finally I felt myself contract as I came, and bit back Jay's name before I could cry it out.

* * *

Sunday morning I woke up early. I'd worked late the night before to ensure that I'd have Sunday off, and I was completely exhausted, but I didn't care. I was too excited about seeing Jay to sleep any later.

When my parents got up, they were surprised to see me. I usually slept in on Sundays. "What are your plans for the day, Samantha?" my mother asked. She refused to call me "Sam" like everyone else did; she said it didn't sound right.

"I'm going to the library later," I replied. "Doing some research." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. I'd be meeting Jay at the library, and with him I'd be researching sex.

"How long will you be gone?" Dad asked.

"I don't know. Most of the day, probably."

"I didn't think the library was open that late on Sundays," Mom said.

"A friend of mine said they might met me there and we might go somewhere else for a little while."

"Who's the friend and where are you going?" Dad wanted to know.

"The friend is someone I know, and we're going wherever we end up," I said, exasperated. "Honestly, I'm eighteen. You don't need to know every move I make every day of my life."

"You live in this house, and that means you still answer to us," Mom told me.

"Then let me move out. Randy moved out at my age. I live in this house because you guys wouldn't let me move to the dorms. I'm an adult now; let me be one, please."

"You aren't old enough to live on your own," Dad said. "We agreed you couldn't handle living in a dorm right now. Randy moved out at eighteen because he didn't go to college; he got a job and earned his own way."

"I have a job," I pointed out.

"One that isn't safe," Mom said. "We know about the attempted robbery a couple weeks ago. I can't imagine why you didn't tell us! Or why you're still working there."

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd tell me to quit the job, and I'm still working there because I like the job, and I'm keeping it. I'm saving up for some things. After this conversation, one of those things is probably going to be a place to live. If living here means I have to do whatever you say and tell you every detail about my personal life, I'd rather not live here."

"You have no idea what it's like to be on your own," Dad said. "You're too young. You wouldn't even know how to pay your bills."

"And you're our little girl," Mom added. "We're supposed to look after you."

I gestured at the low-cut top I'd chosen to wear for Jay, and the tight jeans that made my ass look amazing even though I could barely sit down in them. "Does this look like a little girl to you? As for not knowing how to live on my own, all through high school Randy was learning that stuff. You taught him. So how come you never taught me? Are you expecting me to live here for the rest of my life? Or just until I find a hubby to 'take care' of me?"

"It's different for girls," Dad said. "Something could happen to you if you were living on your own. Someone could- could do something to you."

"Or I could be an adult and be smart enough to take the same precautions Randy takes at his apartment, like locking doors and living in a secure building. Anyway, I'm not moving out today, obviously. But I am going out later, I don't know what time I'll be back, and other than the library, I don't know or care where I'm going."

"You're being disrespectful," Mom said. "We could ground you."

"I'd go out anyway. Please just let me be an adult. It's not like I'm disappearing without a word to you guys. I've told you I'm going out, and I've told you where I'm going to start with. I'll be home by tonight. But I shouldn't have to tell you everything."

"Is it a boy?" Dad demanded. "Is that what this is about?"

"It might be. It might not be." I stood and stretched. "I might just leave now and have breakfast somewhere. I really don't think I should have to sit through an interrogation just to go see a friend on a Sunday."

"If your friend's the reason you're acting like this, he or she is a bad influence," Mom said.

"No, I'm influencing myself. I had less freedom during my senior year of high school than most of my friends had in ninth grade, for crying out loud! Why can't you guys let me be an adult now that I'm eighteen? I don't ask for much; I'm not going to run wild and party all night every night. I do my schoolwork, I do my job, and I've always been responsible when you've let me have any responsibility. So let me have more responsibility. You asked how I'd manage if I lived on my own. How am I supposed to know how to be an adult if you try to keep me a child for the rest of my life?"

"We aren't keeping you a child," Dad said.

It was like talking to a brick wall, though at least a brick wall wouldn't have talked back. This was ridiculous. My parents were bound and determined not to hear a word I was saying; clearly I was wasting my breath. I just shouldn't bother, though the stubborn part of me wanted them to see my point. They didn't have to agree with me, but they could at least listen to me. Since they weren't, I decided to give up talking.

I went into the back hallway and got my windbreaker. It was still early enough to be a little cold outside. The problem with leaving this early was that the library didn't open till eleven, and I wouldn't be meeting Jay till afternoon. But I was sure I could find something to do, somewhere to go until then.

Naturally my parents followed me. "Where are you going?" Mom demanded.

"Out to breakfast, I think. And then maybe I'll just wander the streets until someone assaults me." Sarcasm dripped from my voice, though I wasn't sure my parents even grasped it. "I'm trying to have a rational, reasonable conversation with the two of you, but it doesn't seem to be happening, so I'd rather not continue it."

"We're being reasonable," Dad snapped. "And your attitude is not appreciated. Go to your room, young lady."

I almost laughed in his face, but I didn't think that would help my case any. "I'm not going to my room. I'm going out. I wasn't planning to leave this early, but I don't seem to have much choice. Either leave or stay here and keep talking in circles with you two. I love you both, but it's time to let me make my own decisions about some things. Like how I spend my free time."

"We love you too," Mom said. "Don't you understand that's why we're so concerned? You aren't even acting like yourself, Samantha. The Samantha we know would never be so disrespectful to us."

"And the parents I know wouldn't keep arguing with me and repeating the same things over and over again when they know they're wrong."

"We aren't wrong!" Dad said.

"You're wrong to keep treating me like a little girl. You're wrong to threaten me with grounding when I disagree with you. I know you don't think you're wrong, but to me, you are. And that's why I'm leaving, because we're just continuing to say the same things over and over. I'm not going to agree with you acting like I'm a child, and you apparently aren't going to agree that being eighteen makes me an adult. So I'm going out now. I'll be back tonight."

I opened the door, expecting them to try to stop me. Neither one did. That was good and bad; good because it meant I wouldn't have to keep arguing with them, but bad because I didn't have anywhere to go at eight o'clock on a Sunday morning.

I walked toward downtown, figuring I'd get something to eat before I worried about what else I was going to do for the next three hours. If I found the right place, I might be able to kill an hour or so just sitting at a table drinking hot chocolate and maybe reading the newspaper. Some places didn't mind if people took up space, as long as there weren't customers waiting for seats. Early on a Sunday morning, it was unlikely that places would be crowded.

From my house to downtown was almost two miles. It took me half an hour to walk it, and by the time I got there, my feet were killing me. I wasn't wearing my usual sneakers; instead, I'd put on the high heels my mother had bought me for the senior prom I hadn't attended. I figured heels were sexier than sneakers, and I wanted to look sexy for Jay, as much as I could given my limited wardrobe.

The only item of clothing I had that I considered sexy was the dress Jay's friend Tillie had loaned me when Jay had taken me to her place. I'd wanted to wear that dress today, but it had been hard enough sneaking into my house without my parents seeing it the day Jay and I had gone out before. There was no way I would have been able to get out of the house with it on, especially with my parents watching my every move. I would have had to deal with more of an interrogation than they'd given me anyway. I should have figured out a way to smuggle the dress out with me, though, so I could have given it back to Tillie.

On Main Street, I found a diner and went inside. When I sat at the counter, I swore I heard my feet sigh in relief. Then I heard a voice say, "Hey, Randy's kid sister."

I smiled and turned around. He was sitting in a booth opposite the counter, looking even hotter than I remembered. "Jay, after what we did a couple weeks ago, I would think you'd remember my name," I said.

He scanned my body from head to toe. I blushed; I felt like he was looking right through my clothes. "Your name isn't the only thing I remember about you," he said. "Come sit with me, Sam."

I moved to the booth, sitting across from him. "I'm surprised you're out this early," I said. "I figured you'd be partying or something late last night."

"I haven't been in yet. I did party last night, and I stopped here to get some food on the way home. I was planning to take a nap before I picked you up. You look very sexy, by the way."

Good to know I'd achieved my desired effect. "Thank you." I hesitated. Did I dare ask the question I was thinking? Yes, I did. If I didn't ask, I'd keep wondering. "Did you have a date for the party?"

"Not exactly. It wasn't that kind of party."

"What kind of party was it?"

A waitress came over to us. "What can I get you?"

"Black coffee and a stack of pancakes," Jay said. "Sam, do you need a menu or do you know what you want?"

"I know. Hot chocolate and pancakes, please."

The waitress noted the order on her pad and walked away. "What kind of party?" I repeated.

"The kind I'd rather talk to you about where other people won't overhear," Jay replied. "I'll tell you all about it later."

"Okay. Next question, then. How come it took you so long to get in touch with me? You told me you wanted to see me again, but I'd started thinking either you didn't want to or you'd forgotten about me."

"I could never forget about someone as sexy as you, Sam. I'm sorry. Stuff came up. I wanted to get back to you sooner, but work and other things got in the way."

"Other things like other women?"

The waitress came back with two cups. She set them on the table and walked away again. "I told you, Sam, I don't do monogamy," Jay said. "You sound jealous, and I don't like that. I want to keep seeing you. You're special. I've known you for a long time, and you're the only one I've had strong feelings for. Even after Randy and I stopped hanging out, I'd see you around town sometimes. I've watched you grow up, and you've grown up very, very nicely. I want a regular thing with you, but you aren't going to be the only one I fuck. Not right now, at least. I just don't work that way."

"You told me that before." But I was still jealous of the women he'd been with and the ones he would be with. My fantasies of Jay Christian had never included sharing him with other women.

"Yep, I did. So you need to decide if you can deal with that. If you can't, no harm, no foul. We'll finish our breakfast and go our separate ways. Maybe even stay friends, but nothing more. I hope you'll decide you can deal with it, though. Like I said, there's something special about you."

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