Boyfriend Material Ch. 04

"Heading back down to campus again this weekend, Rory?" Rory's dad asked him, with a sly grin and a wink.

Rory missed the wink. "Yeah... "

Rory was home from college for the summer, but he had made the two-hour drive to campus almost every weekend since early June, to see this new girl who he had just asked out for the first time during finals week.

"So, this Kelly," his dad continued. "She must be... pretty special?"

"She's... really nice," Rory confirmed, cautiously. He glanced over to where his mom was washing dishes, obviously listening.

"So, are you going steady?" she asked.

Rory gave an uncomfortable chuckle. "Going steady? C'mon, mom. This isn't junior high."

"Well, I don't know what you call it these days," his mother gestured with the towel. "You're going to see her every weekend. And you've not gone any dates around here this summer."

"Yeah, well, there's no one to ask out around here, anyway," he said. It was mostly true. Around home, when you graduated from high school you either left for college or the military, or you got married.

"So, what's Kelly's major?" his dad asked, sensing Rory's discomfort and changing the subject.

"Psychology," Rory answered.

"Psychology," his mother repeated, with a hint of disdain. "What's she going to do with that?"

"I don't know," Rory responded, eager to change the subject. He knew his mother distrusted "shrinks," or, frankly, professional expertise in general. "So, anyway, I need to go meet the guys for band practice."

He wondered what major his mother would have approved of. The fact is, his mother had always been skeptical of every girl he had ever dated. He knew she only wanted the best for him; but he doubted they had the same definition of "best."

"Choose a date who would make a good mate," she had often reminded him, along with assurances that "Jesus has someone special picked out for you." That line had never* made sense to him. What if Jesus' favorite lived in Idaho? And at any rate, he did think that Kelly would make a good mate, if things ever went that far. She was smart and funny and a serious student, in addition to being the prettiest girl he had ever worked up the nerve to ask out. It's not like he was dating a stripper. Like his roommate had.

Last weekend he had admitted to Kelly that he wasn't a virgin, and she had replied that she wasn't, either. Which, of course, would have disqualified her in his mother's eyes. Personally, he was almost relieved. Partly, he was relieved that his own admission hadn't disqualified him in Kelly's eyes. And partly... well, his previous girlfriend had been a virgin. And then it turned out she liked sex, a lot. Which was great. Until curiosity got the better of her, and she just had to try another cock on for size.

"So, will we see you again before you head down to campus on Saturday?" His dad asked.

"Ummm... I don't know. I want to get on the road before noon."

"Okay, dear," his mother said. "Be careful."

***

"Be careful?" Rory's dad asked, after their son had headed toward the door. "Really?"

"Really. I worry about him."

"Well... I'll buy him some condoms."

"Wayne! Don't you dare!"

"What?"

"We can't do that. That would be giving him permission."

"Okay, well... but then what were you talking about?"

"Be careful driving, obviously," she scowled.

"Oh."

"Men," she muttered. Then she added, "We can't let him think it's okay."

"Okay," Wayne agreed. Then he walked across the room and put his arms around his wife, standing behind her at the counter, and kissed the top of her head. "But you know, Mae, he's twenty-one. Remember when we were twenty-one?"

"That was different."

Wayne wasn't sure what made it different, but he didn't argue. But he did feel hiimself swelling against his wife's rear end. And felt her softening, and pushing back against him.

"I meant, be careful with his heart," Mae whispered.

"I hope she doesn't break his heart. Like the last one did."

***

Malcolm reached over and picked up the rotary phone off the end table, and set it on the arm of the sofa beside him so he could dial. He had the Cubs game on the TV, with the sound turned down; and he watched Trout get out of the inning while he waited for the call to connect and the phone to ring.

"Mike, buddy!" he said finally.

The voice on the other end of the line would have been unintelligible to anyone but Malcolm.

"Still planning on coming over this weekend?"

The commercial break ended, and the Cubs were coming to bat.

"Yeah, no, Linda was here last weekend."

On the television, Ivan deJesus singled to lead off the bottom of the inning for the Cubs.

"So, you heard from Kelly lately?" Malcolm asked.

Lenny Randle stepped into the batter's box.

"Yeah, I see her from time to time. Stop in at that restaurant where she works and get a cup of coffee."

Ball one, low and outside.

"YES, I always give her a nice tip."

Ball two. deJesus stole second.

"So, has she mentioned her new boyfriend?"

Randle fouled off the next pitch. Strike one.

"I don't know. Roy, or Randy, or something. He went home for the summer. But she's been seeing him on weekends."

Ball three.

"Hey, I told you I was going to look out for her."

Strike two, looking.

"Ha! Yeah, scout's honor," Malcolm chuckled.

Randle drove the next pitch into the left field bleachers.

"Okay, great. I'll see you Saturday. Hey, maybe you ought to call Kelly and see if she wants to meet us for dinner?"

Another pause.

"Okay, sure. Up to you. See you then."

He hung up the phone and looked down between his legs, to where Mike's little sister Kelly was on her knees, naked, glaring at him with mock consternation, but unable to suppress a grin.

"You are such an asshole," she said.

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "Your big brother says hi, by the way."

"Asshole," she repeated. But then she bent down and gave another wet flick across the soft wrinkled skin beneath his knob.

He grabbed his thick cock in his fist and pointed it straight at her. "He wanted to make sure I was giving you a big tip."

She rolled her eyes, but then she opened her mouth and took his glans between her lips. And closed her teeth around it, and bit down ever so slightly. Malcolm flinched and then laughed, and she smirked back at him, obviously pleased with herself.

Malcolm was pleased, too; and pleasantly surprised at how willingly Kelly was embracing this role, this *act*, of being a fucktoy for him, for her big brother's cocky best friend. Five months ago, when he first managed to talk her into an illicit act of vanilla sex, he never would have imagined that one day he would be able to convince her, on a Thursday afternoon, to strip out of her t-shirt and her terrycloth running shorts and her panties, and kneel naked on the floor of his little living room, faux-grumbling but ultimately compliant, and give him a blow job while he watched the Cubs game. Let alone continuing to lick him as he picked up the phone and chatted with her brother.

Continuing to lick him? If anything, her enthusiasm seemed to have increased when he had started talking.

She was, he thought, damn near as kinky as he was. She just needed a little prompting.

Right now she was back to lapping at the underside of his cock. His best friend's cute little sister. Naked. Her nipples pink and hard and pointed ever so slightly upwards at him from the tips of her perky little breasts. Her thighs squeezed together at the knees, and her fine white-blonde patch of pubic hair looking so inviting at the little Y where her lightly-tanned legs met the pale flesh of her lower tummy. He thought that the fact he had been able to get her naked like this was somehow hotter than the fact she was giving him a blow job. And he figured her brother would be more pissed about it, too.

"Well, you boys have fun this weekend," she said, not making eye contact at the moment. "You are not going out to dinner with me and Rory."

"Hmmph," Malcolm replied. He reached down with one hand and cupped the side of Kelly's face. He wasn't ready to concede this point --, but he didn't need to push right now.

Malcolm enjoyed watching Kelly give him head. Truly, he enjoyed watching, more than the sensation itself. Because she really was so damn beautiful, angelic almost with her blonde version of a Dorothy Hamill bob, and her blue eyes and the perfect smooth skin on her dimpled cheeks. But also because she really didn't give very good blowjobs.

She would lick him all over and of course that felt good, damn good; and she would take him into her mouth and wrap her lips around his thick shaft and bob up and down a few times; but she didn't suck him like she was siphoning gas out of a '68 Camaro, and she didn't work her hands enough. She considered fellatio to be foreplay. She didn't want him to cum in her mouth. She didn't like the taste of semen. He had learned that the hard way.

Fortunately, Malcolm wasn't interested in finishing in her mouth. He was much more focused on getting his dick up inside her and enjoying his orgasm there. Eventually.

***

Kelly settled back into a corner of the sofa, suddenly aware of her nakedness again, which had become the least of her shames while she had acquiesced in Malcolm's audacious suggestion that she get on her knees and give him head while he watched TV. Let alone that he had then picked up the phone and called her brother, of all people. Her big brother, oblivious to the fact that his precious little sister was running her tongue up and down the veiny underside of his best friend's thick cock.

But now Malcolm was kicking off his shorts, which had been around his ankles, and unbuttoning his cotton shirt to reveal his broad, hairless chest, and grabbing her by the backs of her calves and pulling her down on the sofa and climbing between her legs.

This was more like it. This is what they had agreed to. Just sex, not games, but most importantly, not expectations and obligations. Just the pleasant sensation of skin on skin, of a hard thick penis gliding smoothly in and out of her, of satisfying mutual orgasms. She knew she and Malcolm weren't "dating," and never would be. He was engaged, for crying out loud; but that was his problem. She hadn't been dating anyone when they had started doing this a few months ago, and for a while at that point she hadn't wanted to date anyone. She had grown tired of the suffocating neediness and jealousy of her previous boyfriends. But she missed the sex, so Malcolm had been just what the doctor ordered.

And then she had met Rory, and Rory had promise. He was boyfriend material, with the potential for the kind of relationship that she knew she wanted eventually. Smart, funny, cute; sensitive, attentive but not desperately eager. But he wasn't on campus this summer, and he was taking it slow, not pushing her for intimacy and not making any demands about exclusivity, yet; and so she could tell herself that she wasn't breaking any rules by agreeing, week after week, to one more exciting encounter with her big brother's arrogant but well-endowed buddy.

Malcolm was lowering himself onto her now, nuzzling at her breasts. She was plenty ready for penetration, but she didn't mind having her nipples stimulated as part of the foreplay.

Suddenly, though, she felt his lips moving off her nipple, taking the soft flesh just to the side of it between his lips and sucking, between his teeth and biting.

"Hey!" she blurted out, and cuffed him on the side of the head.

"Ow!" he responded, more startled than hurt. But he released her and looked up at her with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Don't do that!" she scolded. "You'll leave a mark!"

"Uh huh," he agreed.

"Well, don't! I don't want a hickey!"

He sat back on his haunches. "Why not?" he challenged. "Who's going to see it? ROR-ee?"

Kelly scowled at him. She couldn't get comfortable with Malcolm's fascination with the other young man she was getting to know, even though some part of her found it titillating, too.

"So, Rory's made it to second base!" Mal chuckled. "So maybe he's not gay after all."

"Fuck you, Malcolm," she scowled.

"Good idea," he laughed, and grabbed her by the backs of her knees, and twisted her. She understood what he wanted, and rolled over onto her belly, then got up on her knees and presented herself for him, to take her from behind. It wasn't her favorite position; but she knew Malcolm liked it, and her time on the floor between his legs a few moments ago had put her in a submissive mood.

Instead, however, Malcolm put one hand in the middle of her lower back and pushed her down, so she was lying on her stomach on the sofa. He got his knees in between hers, then stretched out on her, his chest pressed against her shoulderblades, and his cock nestled between her buttocks.

"Mmmm," she heard herself responding. She wasn't quite sure what Malcolm was up to, but she found his weight on her quite pleasing.

He scooted down, then, and she felt his cock sliding down through the cleft between her cheeks; past her puckered anus (thankfully), until the fleshy underside and then the spongy chin of his helmet dragged across her perineum and settled against the bottom of her vaginal opening.

Hmm, Kelly thought; she had never been penetrated in this position; she hadn't even realized it was a possibility. But Malcolm, of course, knew otherwise; and suddenly it wasn't just a possibility but an inevitability. Instinctively, she arched her back and tilted her pelvis to give him better access.

And then he was pushing into her, slowly, a bit at a time; stretching her the way he did, not completely comfortable; never sliding into her as easily on the initial penetration as it would become on subsequent strokes after he had buried himself in her and started to draw out her inner lubrication.

"Mmmph," was all she could utter.

"You okay?" he asked, as his pubic hair began to flatten out against her soft bottom.

"Uh huh," she confirmed. She had her head turned to her left, so she could see him over her shoulder; his left hand was gripping the front of the cushion on the narrow sofa, straining to keep them from tumbling off. His right hand came up and drew her hair over her left ear, tucked it behind; and then he was nibbling on her neck and her earlobe.

"That's... nice," she murmured. And it was. She really didn't like being on her hands and knees, or her knees and elbows or her knees and shoulders. She didn't like the term "doggy style" or the implied symbolism of that position. But this was different. Being on her belly, with Malcolm's stomach filling the curve of her back, and his thick phallus beginning to slide out and back into her with increasing ease... and his lips on erogenous zones that he normally ignored... suddenly felt even more intimate than when they were face to face and would suddenly find themselves swirling tongues. And she didn't like feeling intimate with Malcolm. Until she did.

"Mm hmm," Malcolm agreed, moving slowly. And just when she was starting to feel something like affection, he whispered, "You think Rory is fucking his old high school girlfriend like this right now?"

"Damn it, Mal," she exclaimed; even as she realized that she was clenching down on him. No, she was quite sure Rory wasn't fucking an old girlfriend right now, in this or any other position.

"Nah, of course not," Malcolm agreed, maintaining his measured thrusting. "He's probably a virgin."

"Huh," Kelly grunted, stopping herself before she violated Rory's privacy. It was none of Malcolm's business. Rory had told her he wasn't a virgin, but he just didn't seem like the kind of guy who would be courting one girl and banging another on the side. The way Malcolm was.

Malcolm, who was right now introducing her to another new sexual experience, in this position that she didn't even know existed. It felt good, but it wasn't giving her the stimulation, either against her clitoris or against her g-spot, that she needed to build toward an orgasm.

She always felt bad, thinking about Rory while she was fucking Malcolm. Bad, as in guilty; and bad, as in bad girl. She had figured out, by this time, that Malcolm knew that, and that's why he kept bringing Rory up.

She really liked this position, though. She liked the way the textured fabric of the worn sofa stimulated her nipples. She liked Malcolm's hot breath on her neck, his lips and teeth nipping at her earlobe.

She began to rotate her hips, consciously, intentionally, creating that sensation that drove her wild, that she had only had with Malcolm... the sensation that he was scooping out her insides like she was a tub of ice cream.

Jesus, she thought. Why couldn't any of her three previous boyfriends make her feel this way? She liked sex. She liked the closeness, she liked her orgasms. But all of her boyfriends had gotten it all tangled up with need and expectation and possessiveness and something like resentment.

"Touch yourself," Malcolm whispered into her ear.

Really? She thought. God, she wanted to. She thought back to how previous boyfriends had reacted negatively to that, while they were thrusting into her in missionary or with her on top or even taking her from behind. Like it belittled them. Malcolm didn't care. Malcolm just wanted her to cum. Feeling something like gratitude, she snaked her right arm down beneath herself and started to rub her clitoris, feeling her fingertips graze against his scrotum as he sawed himself in and out of her, feeling his balls swing forward with every stroke, heavy and full and potent. And then she started seeing sparks behind her closed eyes, erupting into fireworks as her orgasm overwhelmed her.

***

Rory ran a stop sign on his way to band practice.

Fortunately, there were no consequences; but his head was not right. He knew that as soon as he got to Carl's house and he pulled the strap of his cheap Stratocaster knock-off over his shoulder and they started working on their new Tom Petty song, he would get into that groove. But for now, he was just thinking about Kelly.

He wasn't sure why his parents' rather gentle questions about her had rattled him so much. He wasn't sure why his mother's apparent disdain for Kelly's course of study mattered. Perhaps, because he really did hope that eventually they would meet her and love her. Perhaps, like his mom kept telling him, he had chosen a date who would make a good mate.

Tomorrow, he would see her. Tonight, he would be horny. But he would not masturbate to images of her. That was against his rules. You don't sully the girl you adore with the squalid squirts of a shameful, self-induced orgasm. So he would sully the big-breasted strawberry blonde who worked at the miniature golf course. Or the tiny little dark-haired, olive-skinned pixie behind the counter at the ice cream stand. Tonight, one of them would be the recipient of his selfish, wicked wasted release. He didn't want to have an orgasm while thinking of Kelly, until he was with Kelly.

But that didn't mean he couldn't think about Kelly, with admiration and adoration, in the meantime. As long as he was just driving through the cornfields on the way to band practice. As long as he didn't use her for a cheap thrill that left him spent and satiated and guilt-ridden. So he let his mind linger on memories of her beauty. How spectacularly she filled out her faded blue jeans. How much he longed to pull them down over her hips. How glorious it would feel, to run his hands from her slender waist to her succulent thighs, first over her panties, and then under them. How glorious it would feel to finally be inside her.