It Started with a Kiss Ch. 02

"What's all the hubbub?" Monica asked, striding into the room with a smirk on her face and a similar gait to Frank's.

When he laid his eyes on her a million pebbles of gooseflesh broke out on his body and he found he couldn't breathe. She'd just gotten out of the shower, so her hair was a light brown and slicked back into a ponytail, which was held in place by a bright pink ribbon. There was a glow of excitement surrounding her face and her eyes sparkled almost to the point where you became hypnotized by them.

Entranced, Frank salivated as his eyes roamed her uniform-clad body. The white cotton of her shirt clung to the swell of her breasts and left almost nothing to the imagination. Her skin was slightly ruddy, care of a stifling shower, and Frank's cock couldn't help but stiffen at the thought of touching that hot flesh.

"Frank's starting to enjoy school, so we're going to institutionalize him just for precaution," Nathan chimed in. "Jean thinks it could be fatal, but I think I'll wait for the expert opinion of Dr. Nick Riviera."

Both of Frank's parents were out and out nuts when it came to The Simpsons. It was quite possible that they'd watched every single episode over ten times each and still managed to find the material funny, if not hilarious.

"Oh well, have a blast at school kids, your mother and I are off to the grind."

Their parents owned and operated the local cinema. Being a relatively small town of thirty thousand people, they only needed four screens and managed to run the place without having to employ too many outsiders. One weekend per fortnight Frank and Monica worked for them, pulling eight hour shifts for both Saturday and Sunday. This was their off week, which meant they could spend all weekend exploring their blossoming relationship.

"Bye."

"Catch ya later."

Before she departed Jean walked up to them and kissed them both on the cheek. "Please eat a healthy breakfast, or if that's too hard for you to do, lie to me and say you did."

Then their parents were out the door, both Frank and Monica looking on with glee as they entered their brand new, aquatic blue sedan. The engine roared to life and the car shot down the driveway like a bullet, the tires squealing as Jean negotiated the vehicle off the cement and onto the tarmac. That's what Frank loved about their parents; they were forty going on fifteen.

A silence drifted over them as they stood there alone and stared at each other. Much to Frank's surprise they began to move around the kitchen to prepare their respective breakfasts, Monica with her muesli and Frank with his four pieces of jam toast.

"Would you like some juice?" he asked, grabbing the carton from the refrigerator.

"Yes thanks."

They both sat down across from each other at the table and began to dig into their food, periodically peering at one another with knowing smiles as they played footsies under the table. Shoes weren't allowed to be worn inside, so their feet touched and were only separated by the thin fabric of their socks.

"What are you planning on doing tonight?" Monica asked.

"Mom and dad are staying late at the cinema, so I thought I might rent a movie."

"Oh," she said softly.

"Of course, the nature of the film depends entirely on who I'll be watching it with."

"Is that right?"

Frank grinned at her as he finished eating his last slice of toast. "Yup, I was thinking we could snuggle up on the couch, just you and I, alone...think of the possibilities."

"I'm thinking about them alright. It sounds perfect."

"Good, so it's a date?"

They were approaching territory that they'd thus far left unexplored. Were they going to attempt to be boyfriend and girlfriend? He wanted to be with her, which was without a doubt the clearest decision he could ever make – he definitely wanted to be with her.

"Does this mean that we're...a couple?" she asked, looking a little embarrassed.

"Only if you want us to be," he replied.

Frank stood up and removed their dishes from the table, leaving Monica to digest his words as he walked over to the sink and started to rinse them. After he washed them with the soaped up sponge he placed them in the drainer and turned to grab a hand towel, only to find Monica close by, holding one loosely at her side.

"You washed so it's only fair that I dry."

"You sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

Frank leaned against the counter and observed Monica as she meticulously wiped their dishes dry. Her brow was crinkled into a cute little frown and she appeared deep in thought as her hands expertly maneuvered the towel over the plates, bowls and silverware.

She turned to him, pouting a little. "Not to sound like a dumb blonde, but this means you're my boyfriend, right?"

"You're not dumb, Mon. It sounds a little strange to say it, doesn't it?"

"Just slightly."

Now bone dry, the breakfast dishes were reported back to their original posts care of Monica's hands. With her back turned to him, Frank moved in behind her and slipped his hands around her waist. She emitted a small gasp as he startled her, which was subsequently followed by a host of giggles as his sliding hands accidentally tickled her.

"Mmm," she moaned. "So this makes me your girlfriend?"

"Yup, as weird as it sounds to say."

His hands developed a mind of their own and slid underneath her shirt, although they seemed content for the moment to keep caressing her bare stomach. Monica sank back against him and melted into his body like an ice block lying in the sun, her ass pushing against his crotch with delightful results.

The grip Frank had around her waist tightened and it effectively pulled her against his body until it seemed they were stuck together. He let his chin fall into the crook of her shoulder and kissed the hollow of her throat – the quickening pulsation of her heartbeat could be felt throbbing against his lips as they brushed against her carotid vein.

"The way I see it, we have two choices," he whispered into her ear.

"And they are?"

"One, we go to school and remain horny all day long."

"I really hate that choice. What's the other one?"

Frank's lips made contact with her right cheek and made little kisses all the way along until he arrived at the edge of her mouth. "We play hooky and stay in my room all day, finishing what we started last night."

"There's no contest at all, I vote we go to school."

He laughed and she turned her head until her eyes rested on his, her gaze smoldering.

"That's just what I was thinking, Mon. It's like you're reading my mind."

Their mouths made a bee-line for each other with their lips parted and tongues at the ready. When they connected they both closed their eyes and began kissing passionately, their tongues wet and sliding together in earnest. Soft sighs and gentle murmurs were shared and their mouths made distinctive wet sounds as their tongues licked and sucked.

Monica's ass started to slide all over his erection and at this point he was unable to control himself. His hands immediately left her stomach, one sliding north towards her left breast while the other slid south, burrowing its way into her school pants and panties. He cupped her breast through her bra and shirt, while his other hand ventured over her soft blonde curls and his fingers explored her moist opening. She was slick and warm, wet in anticipation of the engorged meat that she could feel digging between her ass cheeks.

Her tongue retreated from his mouth but her lips continued to graze against his. "Tell me what you're going to do to me when you take me to your room," she begged.

"I think you know."

"Tell me anyway. I want to hear you say the words."

The fact that her pussy was so slippery told Frank one thing and one thing only – she wanted to get fucked. Her body language also suggested this, because she was basically putty in his arms. Smooth, curvy and writing against him with desperation, it seemed obvious that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

"Please tell me," she whimpered.

"I'm going to strip you out of this sexy school uniform and then we'll fuck each other all day long."

"Mmm, that sounds glorious, Franky."

Frank thrust his tongue back inside her mouth and she accepted it openly, flicking and sucking back with her own tongue as she continued to shamelessly rub his stiff cock into the crack of her ass cheeks.

His hand was still between her legs, tenderly cupping and exploring her slick mound with his dewy fingers. Although when permitted Frank could become rough, it was usually customary for him to touch and feel a girl as gently and with as much care as he could possibly muster. It all depended on their mood. At times a woman wanted to be handled like she was a piece of fragile carnival glass, which was fine by Frank because he loved to tease and toy with the opposite sex. On other occasions, a woman's mood suggested that she wanted to get down to business quickly and forego all forms of patience and lingering.

Monica was currently in the grips of wanting it so badly that her 'Fragile: Handle with Care' sticker had been ripped off to reveal a saucy 'Danger: Girl in Heat' one underneath.

Still kissing him hungrily, Monica wasted no time in being dainty and shoved her pants and panties down her thighs until they drifted to her ankles. Then, with an anguished moan, she grabbed Frank's hand and jammed two of his fingers all the way up inside her pussy.

"Oh yeah," she cried softly. "That's what I've needed."

"You must be pretty damn horny, look how wet you are," he marveled.

"You don't know the half of it."

Although he lacked a degree in rocket science, or any other degree for that matter, Frank had a fair idea of what this not-so-subtle gesture required of him. Pleased to be of any assistance in the stimulation of the opposite sex, Frank lowered his left hand from her breast and rested it in her forest of blonde curls, letting the tips of his fingers fall on the hardened nub of her clit.

"Finger me," she gasped. "Fuck my pussy with your fingers."

He'd just been about to perform this allotted task when the race of an engine filled their ears and a brilliant streak of blue zoomed past the kitchen window, which just so happened to overlook the driveway.

"Fuck! It's mom and dad!" he exclaimed.

"Goddamnit!" Monica screamed in frustration.

They quickly broke apart and Monica scrambled to pull her panties and school pants up her long legs. When they were snug and in place she pressed her hands all over the front of her shirt and smoothed out any wrinkles.

"How do I look?" she asked, wiping at her glistening lips with the back of her hand.

"Stunning," he answered, struggling to reposition his hard-on so that it was at least semi-discreet.

"Other than that, any tell-tale signs?"

"No, you look fine."

Well, sort of fine. A light sweat had broken out on her brow and there was a faint maroon glow that originated at her cheeks, extended down her elegant neck and disappeared under the collar of her shirt. There was a pained look in her eyes and he swallowed back the lump in his throat. He knew how she felt – teased, intensely horny, pissed off that a long overdue orgasm wasn't within sniffing distance after all.

Their mother entered the kitchen at a jog and she dashed into the lounge room to pick up her purse. She was in such a hurry that she didn't notice that her two teenagers were in any way different from how she'd left them.

"You two are still here? C'mon, get in the car. I'll give you a lift to school."

Frank sighed and a moment later so did Monica. They smiled weakly at each other and followed their mother, grabbing their knapsacks from their hooks as they walked out the back door.

The day was beautiful and the air held a fragrance of freshly mowed grass overlaid with an assortment of pollinating trees and shrubs. In the ocean-blue sky there were puffs of wispy clouds that ambled along almost imperceptibly due to the gentle wind. Birds twittered and squawked, insects buzzed, and the sun beat down with an early-morning intensity that hinted at the heat it would deliver come noon.

When they were dropped off at the school gate they halted and leaned against the fence. There was still about five minutes until the bell would sound and they decided to utilize this time to talk. There were people milling around but not within earshot, so they could speak freely and without fear.

"Do you think that mom and dad are conspiring against us?" Frank asked.

"It sure as hell seems that way," she sighed.

For a few moments they watched as couples walked past holding hands. One guy, Mark Stevens, had his hand on his girl's ass and was laughing gaily as she tried to swat it away. That could never be us, Frank thought sadly. Society restricted them to keeping their relationship private because it was deemed sick and nasty. Was it sick to find his sister beautiful? Was it nasty that he loved her with every fibre of his being?

The fact he was still insanely hard didn't improve matters and, judging from the expression on Monica's face, she was still grappling with her own gremlins between her legs. Both of her hands were busy massaging her thighs, and to the trained eye you could tell that she wanted nothing more than to stuff her hand inside her pants and play with herself.

"I want you to do me a favour."

"Anything."

Monica waited until a couple of younger school kids walked past and then smiled at him nervously. "Do you think that you could...resist the temptation of playing with yourself until we have sex?"

It felt as if all the saliva in his mouth had jumped ship, because what she was asking him was nigh on impossible. He'd already been entertaining the thought of asking for a toilet pass during period one so that he could relieve the built-up tension, only now it seemed that best laid plans may be foiled yet again.

"Mon..." he trailed off.

She leaned into him with a conspiratorial smile and placed her mouth to his ear. "The next time you cum I want it to be inside my pussy," she whispered. "Please Franky, do this one little thing for me?"

"On one condition," he swallowed. "You're not allowed play with yourself either."

"Okay, we have a deal."

The soft skin of her palm clasped against his and they pumped their hands twice. It was a simple handshake, and if anyone noticed they wouldn't suspect anything. When they let go her hand caressed and squeezed at his gently. Then it was gone, the last time they would touch until they were in the safe confines of their home.

The bell suddenly echoed through the school, telling Frank, Monica and their peers that it was time to negotiate their way to their lockers and begin yet another boring day of education.

Frank had suspected earlier that the day was going to be long, only it was now teetering on the edge of being excruciatingly so.

* * * * *

When Frank finally navigated his way through the crowded corridor he was yet again confronted with Julie Bowman on her knees, with her ass sticking out and her head buried inside her locker. It suddenly occurred to Frank that, after two solid months of pressing his cock into the back of her head, Julie should've learnt by now to wait until he'd retrieved his own belongings first.

But here she was, on cue, lying in wait for him to come along and complete the daily ritual. Between his legs lay a massive erection and the urge to press his aroused cock into the back of her head was almost irresistible. But things had changed. He was with Monica now, and he didn't think that she would appreciate the continuation of this particular ritual at all.

Was Pete right? Did Julie have a thing for him? Frank found it difficult to believe, but it made absolutely no sense for her to continue allowing him to do it to her over and over again.

Pete was standing at his locker scratching his head, looking confused. His best friend was quite the ladies man, although the exact reason why women liked him remained to be an unsolvable mystery. This wasn't to say he was ugly, far from it. Pete had spiky blonde hair that was perpetually gelled, blue eyes that were rich and soulful, and a lean physique that drove girls to the point of frothing at the mouth.

If one was to view Pete based solely on his looks, minus his personality, it was easy to see why girls flocked to him like ducks to water. What didn't make sense was the fact that he treated them terribly and yet they loved him despite it. That was Pete's one main flaw – his lack of respect for women.

Pete shot Frank a dirty look when he sidled up to him. "Where the fuck were you last night?" he asked.

On the floor Julie stiffened, her entire body going rigid with the anticipation of what Frank was typically going to do. Only today he didn't do it. With the focused care of a doctor delivering an infant, Frank made sure that his movements never caused his stiff member to connect with any part of Julie's head.

"Oh shit, sorry Pete. I clean forgot about the snooker comp we were going to have."

"Yeah, well, Edison invented the telephone for a reason, Francis."

Frank opened his locker and then turned to Pete, glaring at him. If there was one thing he hated – other than being called the great Frank Cassidy – it was being called Francis. When Pete became pissed off at him over something he invariably called him by his diabolical birth name.

The second bell rang through the hallway and the musical whapping of locker doors was second only to the tittering crowd. People were dispersing and heading off to class, some of them taking a keen interest in the fact that Julie hadn't shouted at Frank yet.

Finally, after taking longer than was necessary, Julie rose from her haunches and flashed Frank what appeared to be a cross between a dirty look and a grimace. If her face wasn't perpetually contorted into a bitchy frown, Julie could remove the title of being simply seen as cute and upgrade herself into being a full-blown babe.

Light brown, shoulder length hair fell around her face, which was highlighted perfectly by her lovely brown eyes. Those twin murky pools conveyed a depth of intelligence and sometimes Frank thought he detected a strong flicker of sadness in them, too. No one was able to get close enough to Julie to understand why she was such an angry young girl, which struck a strong melancholic chord in Frank as she stalked away from him.

She had no friends, not a single one. What on earth had happened to her to make her crawl into her shell like a frightened turtle? These thoughts must have been simmering away in his unconsciousness, and he was suddenly attacked by a deep regret over being such an asshole towards her.

"What a beautiful ass," Pete sighed, gazing at Julie's tight, jiggling behind.

The hall was almost deserted and Frank reached into his locker to grab the necessary books for the first two periods. Thoughts of Monica drifted through his mind and he couldn't help but curse the gods for making his mother forget to grab her purse this morning.

"Pete, were you serious last night?"

"About what?"

"Julie."

"That she's in love with you? Yeah, totally serious. Have you ever seen the way she looks at you?"

They both closed their lockers and made their way down the empty corridor. For the first period they both had Woody's physics class. Woody wasn't their teacher's real name, which was actually Martin Freeman. He'd been given the nickname 'Woody' simply because at any given time of the day there would be an obscenely large bulge in the crotch of his trousers.

"She looks at me as if she wants to tear my face off."

"No, not when you're looking at her. Have you ever seen her look at you when she doesn't know you're looking back?"

"No," he said slowly. "How does she look at me?"