Can't Say No Ch. 05

I slammed and locked the door behind me. My breathing had sped up for no reason. I think I was hyperventilating. Once I was certain the door was shut, I slumped to the ground. My breath was fast, but I felt lightheaded. My heart was thumping inside my chest. What's wrong with me.

Soccer had been over for an hour, but sweat had somehow reappeared on my forehead. Sharp pain invaded my chest. I dropped to the floor and curled myself into a ball. I'm dying. My neck and chest were hot. With clammy hands, I pulled off my sweatshirt.

"Mom?" There was no response. My phone was clutched in my hand, but I couldn't uncurl my fingers to dial 9-1-1. I didn't want to leave home.

I lost track of how long I sat there, panting for breath. Finally, whatever happened subsided. I pulled myself upright and went upstairs. In the bathroom, I pulled a wrap of foil out of my bag. With trembling hands, I unwrapped the contents.

With the foil gone, only a heavily packaged pill remained. I pried the tablet loose with my fingernails and stared. 'This will keep you from getting pregnant'. I gulped the pill with sink water. Can this solve all my problems? I doubted it.

I turned the shower to hot and stripped off my clothes. Steam fogged the mirror by the time I stepped inside. Hot water cascaded onto my face— uncomfortably hot. I curled in a ball and didn't move for an hour.

By the time I'd dried and changed I expected mom to be home, but she was still gone.

I was drowsy on the couch by the time the door opened and she walked inside. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes torn— an appearance I'd become familiar with.

I knew what had happened, and tried to feel sympathy for her. Instead, all I could feel was relief. Mom had saved me. She sighed.

"Don't be mad Jessie." I looked at mom, puzzled by her voice. She looked more exhausted than I felt when she dropped onto the couch.

"How could I be mad, after everything you've done for me?" Mom looked at me, her eyes were wet.

"You mean that?" Her emotion was brimming to the surface. I was too tired, but I put on a smile.

"Of course," I said. The day was nearly over, but my mom's next words were the last I needed.

"I invited our neighbor, Mr. Lunder, to dinner tomorrow night." Mom dropped her head as she spoke. My tiredness evaporated. A moment later, I was on my feet yelling.

"Why would you do it, why would you let him in here, where it's safe?" My eyes bore into her. I never screamed at my mom, but I didn't care. Suddenly, her dishevelment, her sacrifice, none of it made me feel sympathy for her.

"Because—" I barely heard mom's voice over the blood in my ears. "I lost my job, Jess."

I was running across the soccer pitch, but my feet wouldn't move. I felt like I was running through molasses. Why am I so slow? Crying filled my ears. I shook my head, but the sound wouldn't go away.

Emily ran into me and stole the ball. I tried run after her, but I was too slow. Slow. I looked down. My stomach, normally flat, was bulging conspicuously. How long have I been pregnant? As I looked, my stomach began to swell, growing bigger by the second, the pain was intense. No. Stop. Stop. Stop. Ahead of me, Emily scored the ball. The crowd erupted.

I saw mom in the stands, Mr. Lunder next to her. I dropped to my knees. The screams in my ears were louder than ever. Baby screams. The pain in my stomach exploded, and the world turned black.

I opened my eyes. The sheets were damp with sweat, I was in my room. I checked my phone— 5:23 am. I had been asleep for three hours. I sat up rather than try to fall back asleep.

I had to rethink my schedule, everything, anything to avoid as many people as possible. My training, already hard, would become more intense. There was no other option. I need to escape. Escape everything. Nowhere is safe, not even home.

Brett checked his watch as he came out of the locker room— 6:15 am. School wouldn't start for another two hours. This was perfect. The school had only been unlocked for 15 minutes, and he was already changed and ready to work out.

He wasn't accustomed to lifting weights, and his build was neither muscular or tall. His physique was the reason he had avoided visiting the weight room for so long. The high school weight room was dominated by the physical specimens, and he knew he would stick out like a sore thumb.

After school, Brett usually found himself in the weight room's vicinity. Whenever he glanced inside, however, the room was crowded. Everywhere he looked, muscular classmates would be sprawled across the equipment. These were exactly the type of people who intimidated him. The thought of working out next to them had always been unfathomable.

He had brushed arms with the athletic types back during Freshman and Sophomore year. In those days he thought sports might bring him some friends and status. In reality, he was neither coordinated or athletic. Season by season he had been cut from every team he tried out for. Even Lacrosse, a sport with few cuts had refused to take him.

Now in his senior year, Brett had all but given up on his aspirations—but not quite. A small part of his athlete fantasy still lived inside of him. It was this shred of desire which had drove him out of bed this morning. He liked to sleep in, and he was usually late because of it, but here he was, two hours early to school.

School was in the middle of fall season. He reckoned if he woke up early to lift weights several days a week, he might have one final shot at the Spring Lacrosse team.

There was only one hole in his scheme, the plan hinged on the morning weight room being empty. Brett was shy, and he knew if he saw any of the usual weight room crowd, he would be too embarrassed to enter.

His trepidation heightened as the weight room approached. Would his gamble pay off?

Heavy weights slammed down as he approached the door. The sound nearly brought him to a halt. Slamming weights was always a bad sign. Feeling his heart plummet, he peered around the corner ready for the worst. What he saw was completely unexpected.

The person in the weight room wasn't a jock, she was a girl.

His heart stopped.

Silently, he followed her with his eyes. She was standing at the squat rack. Girls didn't usually wear workout clothes, and he was used to seeing them in their school uniforms.

He loved their skirts. No matter who the girl was, you could always see an ample amount of leg. Sometimes, depending on the girl, you could catch a glimpse of lower butt cheek.

Brett had taken note of how the older girls scurried from class to class. He had watched enviously as his female classmates grew older and started meekly deferring to the bigger boys and teachers. He wanted that respect for himself.

He took in the girl in front of him. Her workout clothes were something else entirely. Unlike a skirt, the maroon leggings revealed every contour of her body. His pulse quickened.

Like magnets, his eyes were drawn to her backside. One look confirmed her ass was toned, and plump. It was one of the nicest he had ever seen. He felt the urge to turn away, as if staring too long would burn his retinas. Instead, he continued to stare. Her butt was mesmerizing.

The girl started her next set. Her blonde ponytail draped across the bar as she squatted. She paused at the bottom of her squat, from this position her ass looked wider than ever.

Brett felt a familiar prickling in his underwear. A partial erection had formed in his shorts. Nervously, he looked around. Normally, he had to be careful not to get too carried away unless he was seated in class. The last thing you wanted was a raging erection in the middle of a crowded hallway. After a moments panic, he remembered the halls were empty. School wouldn't start for another couple hours.

He was alone with this beautiful girl. The realization stunned him into alertness. A month had passed since his 18^th birthday, but he had never dared hope for such an opportunity. Such experiences only befell his more daring classmates. Excitement fluttered in his chest—but wait. She was student, and was probably off limits. Disappointment and relief tempered his excitement. Anxiously, he peered at the mirrors lining the wall. Part of the girl's reflection was visible, if she was 18 there would be— A pin!

Brett's heart jumped to his throat. Sure enough, a small red pin adorned the front of her workout shirt.

In his excitement, he took a step into the weight room. A moment later, the girl spotted him in the mirror. She nearly dropped her weights, and Brett's heart leapt.

The girl in the maroon leggings quickly racked the weights. Feeling uneasy Brett began to back away, he had been caught snooping. He shouldn't be here.

No, wait—unfamiliar confidence filled him. He had done nothing wrong. He planted his feet, and took another step into the room. He was entitled to what he wanted.

"Hey," he said. The girl turned her head away from him, and hurried towards the exit. Her hips swayed as she walked. Brett was between her and the door. He watched her approach.

A moment before, when she caught him spying, he had been uncertain. But something about the way she avoided his eye contact filled him with confidence. He was in control.

"I want to have sex!" he blurted. The girl came to a stop. When she looked up at him, Brett's heart stopped. She was gorgeous. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would be here, please don't—"

This beautiful girl was talking to him, and he was making her stammer and fumble her words. It was bizarre, and a complete reversal from his everyday experience. He was only a couple inches taller, but he felt like a giant.

"It's okay," he started to say. She seized on his words.

"Oh, thank you so much," she tried to squeeze past him and make for the door.

"Wait," he said, "that's not what I meant." The girl stopped. Brett paused uncertainly. She had just tried to leave. Who does she think she is?

"Come back here," said Brett. He was surprised by how authoritative his voice sounded. Slowly, he watched the girl turn and walk back to where he stood. Having her so close turned Brett's tongue back into lead. The girl's eyes were on the floor. His eyes dropped to her chest, then snapped back to her face. She was his if he wanted, he realized.

Unsure what to do, Brett sat on a nearby bench. Instinctively, he grabbed the girl's hips and pulled her towards his lap. She was strong, he realized, but she gave way to his direction. The thought of a girl sitting on his lap made his pulse quicken. It felt like slow motion as her thick legginged butt plopped down on him.

Her ass was heavy on his lap. He had never experienced close contact with a girl like this. Her body was warm from her workout, and the weight of her ass on his dick thrilled him. Under his shorts his penis started to swell.

The girl fidgeted. Did she feel his penis? Could she sense what he wanted? Brett tried to imagine plunging his dick into her butt the way he had seen in videos. He knew what he wanted, but he wasn't sure how to get there. He felt nervous.

With trembling hands, he reached up and grasped ahold of her boobs. Even through the shirt, they felt incredible.

Brett found his face caught in her hair. He inhaled and a sweet scent filled his nostrils. He brushed her ponytail to the side. His erection continued to grow.

Amazingly, the girl on his lap had held still to this point. Gleefully, Brett began to push and prod the areas which, to this point, he had only imagined touching. He was in heaven. His good fortune was unbelievable.

Maybe it was time to take things further? Hesitantly, Brett began to reach under her shirt. Suddenly, the girl stood up. Dismayed, Brett opened his mouth—he would make her sit down again.

The girl turned towards him, and he saw her face. She was as cute as ever, but something about her demeanor seemed different. She met his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she smiled. "I didn't mean to be weird earlier. You just made me nervous." She knelt down in front of him. "Do you think I could? —" The girl grasped the sides of his shorts. Brett froze—the girl giggled. She pulled his pants to his ankles, and his penis sprang free.

This was surreal, no girl had ever seen his penis before. Now a gorgeous one was inches away from his dick. He looked down at her.

What was she going to do? His heart pounded. She watched his face, and slowly reached her hand out. Then she grabbed his penis. She stroked him and his mouth fell open. Her face was inches from his dick. Her hand moved up and down.

Brett sat still and tried to absorb the alien sensation of her hand on his penis. This was amazing. Her hand sped up. The feeling was good. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't look away from the girl and her hair. She only had eyes for him, and his dick.

The girl opened her mouth, and gasped as she stroked him. Then moaned aloud. Brett tried to imagine her mouth on his dick. The feeling was good—too good. The girl moaned again. Her face was inches from his penis. Her hand beat up and down relentlessly. Pleasure built inside of him, stronger than ever before. He needed her on his dick.

"Wait—" he said. The girl let out a high moan and grasped him harder than ever. Her face was so close he could feel her breath tickle his balls.

His breath came out in ragged, uneven gasps. Her hand was a blur. He pushed his hips forward. It was no use—the point of no return was upon him.

His body jerked forward as a wave of orgasm plunged over him. Pleasurable bursts sparked through him with each pump of her first. For a moment euphoria overloaded his brain.

A jet of semen shot free and coated her hand. Another fell to the floor and hit the girl's leggings. He had never experienced a high like this. He watched the stain soak her pants as pleasure rolled over him. The girl moaned appreciatively. He looked at her. Yes. This is how things should be. You like that slut? He drank in the sight of her stroking his shaft. That's what you're good for. His head spun.

Finally, the girl stopped. He looked at her, her body was amazing. Still, his mind felt clearer, he was no longer as overwhelmed by her as he had been earlier. He looked at the girl who knelt on the floor. You're not so mighty on your knees, are you?

He started to think of something to say when the girl stood up.

"I should go," she turned and made for the door. Brett struggled to sit upright. He was covered in his own cum he realized.

"Wait, give me your—" the girl disappeared through the door. He watched her red leggings vanish, "—number?"

The trip through the hallway to get to the bathroom was awkward. Fortunately, the corridors were still deserted. Once he was cleaned off, Brett basked in a glow of pride.

The girl in the red leggings was stuck in his mind.