FocusTunes Ch. 06

I sat up in a flash, my hand yanking on Emily's hair to hold her head in place, inches from my own.

"You always swallow. Do you understand me?" Her eyes were wide and fearful, her mouth slightly agape as my cum dripped down onto her chin. I held her gaze, my heart pounding in horniness and anger. "You always swallow."

"Yes." She nodded quickly. "I'm sorry. I-...I didn't know."

"It's okay." My rage softened at the terror in her tone, the tremble in her voice. I hadn't meant to scare her -- I just wanted to complete my long-wrought fantasy, and none of my girls recoiled from my cum in my fantasies. I tucked her head below mine and stroked her hair a couple of times, planting a kiss on her head to let her know that it was really okay.

Then I leaned back onto the pillows. "You can clean it up." I gestured down to the cum on my body. "With your tongue, please."

It hadn't been in command form; I'd done that on purpose. I saw the hesitation in her eyes, the uncertainty of such degradation. But I also saw the horniness -- constant, pulsing arousal that had yet to be acknowledged and had crescendoed in its neglect, now hardwiring her brain to do anything for the intensity crescendo and release that only I offered. I knew just how dominant FocusTunes commands were when they went unanswered.

So she scooched her weight back, leaned down as if to resume her blowjob, but stuck out a dainty tongue and licked up the first bead of cum from my thigh.

"Eyes on me." That was a command, and a familiar one. Her doe eyes popped up to mine from behind their glasses, only darting down to find the next stream of cum as she hovered over my waist, my belly, and my crotch, diligent in her work, dedicated to making eye contact in the moment before she lapped up every last drop, holding it through each blissful swallow.

It was the most erotic thing that had ever happened in this bedroom. By a country mile.

As Emily licked my shaft clean a few times over, to ensure she hadn't missed a drop, I checked the clock. Shit. This was a great morning that could have been made perfect with a tighter schedule.

"Fuck, Emily, we're going to be late for school." I hopped out from underneath her ministrations and scampered over to my dresser. "If you leave now, you should be able to make homeroom."

"Oh...okay." She seemed dazed, uncertain. I looked over at her, one arm through my undershirt, before I put the pieces together.

"Fuck, yeah -- you can put your clothes on. Just...do whatever you need to leave while still protecting our secret. My secret, I mean. Us. Yeah. Uh...do you need breakfast? Did you eat?"

Emily giggled at my flurry, reaching for her discarded clothes. "No, but I'll be fine."

I got Emily out the door in a few minutes, with a banana in hand (chivalry, on an oxygen tank tucked away in a dusty closet, still technically living). I executed an all-too-familiar rush job of personal hygiene, organization, and nutrition -- as well as a traffic violation or two -- en route to a 8-minute miss of the homeroom bell. Bad, but not bad enough that I couldn't sweet talk the secretary out of writing me up for it.

My school day was a blur, but only for its speed and my underpreparedness. My mission for the day? That was less hazy. I knew what my problems were now. But I also knew I had an outlet for my frustration -- an outlet who today sent me a long, sultry glance in the hallway, more brazen even than the leers tossed at her ass by passing freshmen -- to keep my head clear and on task. I had a problem with Miranda that needed a long-term solution, but to keep myself focused on the long game and safe from any slip-ups, I had Emily as an outlet. It may have been irresponsible to take her, but she was mine now -- and oh, what a crutch she was.

My long-term problem with Miranda remained, however, and took on an added twist when Heidi took a familiar seat by me in the yard at lunch. We were with a group of friends, but she quickly found an excuse to pull me off to the side.

"Everything okay?" I asked, positive nothing was.

"Uh...maybe?" She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully -- it was a cute look. "I...I heard something that I thought you needed to hear. About Miranda."

"Oh?" I was taken aback. "Are you sure...you want to talk about this with me?"

"Listen. Regardless of anything that I may have said -- thoughtlessly -- in recent days, I'm your friend, and I want good things for you." She glared at me defiantly, clearly resolved not to scramble around in embarrassment any longer. "And in that all good things in your life -- and in the world, really -- come from me..."

"Okay, okay." I chuckled. "What did you hear?"

"Well, Mariah (diminutive, vapid, flat as a board) told me that Makenzy (butterface, sunny disposition, Miranda's friend) told her that Miranda...hooked up with Oliver yesterday."

"With Oliver?!" I bit my own words. Oliver McGary was a prick. Worse than a prick: a douche. Worse than a douche: a fucking meathead with Daddy's car, inflated grades for the sake of a golden left foot on the soccer field, and a posse of sycophantic wannabees boosting an already sky-scraping ego. I'm pretty sure he tweezed his eyebrows.

Miranda and Oliver had on-agained off-agained for much of junior year, during which time he had fucked multiple confirmed people not named Miranda Plover, and she continued to fall for grandiose acts of synthetic contrition excised right from Hallmark movies, bouquets and boomboxes and all. She and I had gotten into heated arguments about Oliver on more than one occasion. Her eternal willingness to get hurt by that shambling goblin of a person was, by far, her least attractive quality.

"From what Makenzy told Mariah, it was just...I don't know, oral stuff or third base or something. No sex." Heidi said carefully. "I don't think they're like, getting back together or anything."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, almost rhetorically.

"Well, I know you and Miranda had...something over the weekend, and you said she wasn't going to tell her friends, but she told them about Oliver, so I just worried that, you know...your secret was going to get out." My face must have revealed my panic, because she hastened to continue. "I didn't tell anyone anything! I know you told me to keep it secret, so..."

This made more sense now. I'd made Heidi a conspirator in my trysts with Miranda, and now she was working to make sure the secret didn't get out. It wasn't exactly what I'd told her, but it seemed she was taking the basic command -- "you keep Ben's secrets" -- and extending it to a natural conclusion for a close friend -- "you help Ben keep his secrets." The booster shot of trust probably helped that as well.

"Okay, thanks for telling me. We should head back." I said, turning to our friends. "Rachel's starting to look at us weird."

"She's probably just wondering what's going on," Heidi responded. "She knows how I...you know, what I told you the other day and...stuff."

I smirked.

"You're usually so quick. I kinda like how tongue-tied this is making you." I sent her a friendly smile, to let her know it was just meaningless banter. "Just try not to sit too close, you know..."

"You're a knave and a rascal, Benjamin. An eater of rotten meat."

Despite the ribbing, I ate the rest of my lunch and walked into chemistry pissed.

Back to Oliver fucking McGary. Unbelievable. You know what? Fuck her. She wanted to fuck me, and instead of trying to make moves on me, she was just denying her basic instincts and scrambling back to the easiest dick she could find. He had never been the man she actually wanted him to be -- and now he literally wasn't! You can take a horse to water, but she'll still go find some other, way dirtier fucking pond to drink out of, apparently.

Oddly, Emily entered the chemistry lab without Miranda in tow. She sent me another long look as she took her desk, and I saw her breath catch as I approached her quickly.

"Did you hear about Miranda and Oliver?"

"Yes," she said, her voice low and hot.

"Tell me everything you know."

"Miranda invited him over last night for a booty call. Her parents are out of town or something. He wasn't even trying to go because he's talking to Kirsten right now, but she totally talked him into it, and when he got there, she was like, all over him. But they didn't even fuck. Oliver told Nico that she just went down on him and then told him to leave pretty much right after. He twas like, 'stop being a tease,' and she got super fucking pissed. She said that he was being a dick so she kicked him out but like, he's always a dick, so I don't know what she expected. Anyway, she's been super fucking weird today, again." She huffed the last word in exasperation, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Good. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome." She dazzled me with a hopeful smile, and I felt the need to pat her on the head or slap her ass in encouragement. That would draw a few more eyes than desirable, however, so I slipped back to my desk.

With hardly a second left on the bell's ring, Miranda snuck into the classroom. Maybe my new knowledge skewed my perceptions, but something was evidently off. She was lighter on the makeup today, her hair in a ponytail, her outfit constructed more for comfort than fashion. She had to scramble through her stuff for her lab notebook and huff for breath in her seat as class began -- not the diligent, punctual little control freak I knew and loved.

Lab went slowly at first. I spent every five seconds looking up at Miranda and Emily's group. I only caught Miranda looking at me twice, each time for a fraction of a second; I caught Emily far more often and far more deliberately, and I quickly realized she was attending to my presence in case I had a command for her. Fuck, if Pavlov didn't work quickly when juiced up by some brainwave manipulation.

Emily's quick transformation turned the lightbulb on for me. She was probably still -- no, wait she was definitely still horny from this morning. She'd gotten me off and gotten shoved out of the door, and to her, asking for a return on the favor must have been too rude to do. With more commands and questions and eye contact throughout the period, she was just getting hornier and hornier, and her only avenue to sexual release -- not just petty sexual release, but the mind-bending shit I'd hooked her on -- went through me.

Miranda was also trying to scratch an itch. She had control over his sexual urges now, yes -- but they were still there. She still wanted to suck my cock, beg for my cum, and she'd always wanted to fuck me. But as far as her memory was concerned, she'd sucked and fucked Oliver for a lot longer than she'd sucked and fucked me. She was sexually satisfied in junior year, and she was sexually unsatisfied now, so she thought Oliver could quell her current fire. But she didn't just want to suck any cock; she wanted to suck mine.

Emily knew who she belonged to now; Miranda was still denying the obvious.

Lab suddenly went a lot faster. I blitzed the work like never before, my delightful stoner of a lab partner content to kick his feet up in the back seat. I had a flawless report completed with almost 20 minutes left in the block. Whenever I finished early, our professor often used me as a proxy to help the remaining lab groups, as he reclined behind his desk.

I turned in my report and, without even asking his permission, beelined for Emily and Miranda. Both acknowledged my arrival as they had acknowledged me all day: Emily with puppylike devotion, Miranda with an intense interest in her lab notebook. I didn't care.

I grabbed Emily's upper arm and drew her in for a whisper. "Flirt with me. Try to make Miranda jealous of our relationship. She is allowed to know that we fucked, but she is not allowed to know any details about our fucking. She is not allowed to know about this morning. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Emily's reply was even lower and hotter than before, her breath heavy as it mingled with her perfumes and danced over my cheeks.

I split from Emily immediately, though our hushed conversation had already drawn an odd look from Miranda. It didn't matter. That wasn't the oddest thing she was going to see today.

I figured out where they were in the lab and busied myself with adjusting their apparatus. (Flasks just above the inner blue cone of the Bunsen burner flames, kids!) Once I was done, Emily giggled -- a practice, musical sound.

"Thanks for the help, Ben." Was this the first time she'd ever used my name? She said it like it was sweet on her lips. "--with the burner, I mean." She hurried through another giggle, casting a quick glance at Miranda, as if to check if she had caught the slight slip of words. What could it mean? When had Ben ever helped Emily before? Oooh, intrigue, mystery.

"No problem, Em." I was decisively less subtle, throwing a nickname I'd never used at a girl who would have bristled at my familiarity not two days ago. "You know I'm always happy to help." Emily blushed, flipped some hair over her shoulder to reveal the wide expanse of smooth chocolate skin over her neckline, and dropped her eyes to the notebook.

"It says we have to turn all of the unknown liquid in the flask into vapor." Emily read. "Can you show me how to do that?"

"Sure. Come stand over here." I made room for her on my side of the lab bench, and as she crossed, my hand found the small of her back, guiding her into position. The combined effect of the command and the bodily manipulation had an audible effect on Emily's breath. My suspicions were confirmed: she was a horny little girl.

"Tell me how many milliliters of the liquid you have in the flask." Command.

"3 MLs."

"Good. Record that in your lab notebook." She hastened to do so; Miranda was not so quick. "You too, Miranda." I said lightly, nodding towards her notebook. She had been staring intently at the odd pairing across the bench from her, and at my words, turned steely eyes to my innocent face. I gave no ground until she grabbed her pencil and began recording in her notebook.

"Now: is the water boiling in the beaker?" Everyone could see, plain as day, that it was boiling. Miranda stared again at me, but Emily answered the question, each response to a command or question another stroke on her pussy.

"Yes."

"Good. Now submerge the flask in the boiling water so that the mystery liquid starts heating up. Eventually it'll hit its boiling point -- what that is, we don't know yet -- and everything will begin to vaporize."

Emily submerged the flask. "What do we do until then?"

My eyes were on Miranda. "We wait and watch. And see if we learn anything in the process."

Emily giggled again, despite the fact that the last funny thing anyone had said in this group was ages ago. "That makes sense. I can see why Miranda likes having you so much as a tutor." She leaned against the bench, her arms folded underneath her tits to give them an additional swell. "Maybe I should have you tutor me, and get some of that special attention for myself."

"Maybe you should," Miranda spat in impatience at the charade, her harsh tone discordant with the honeyed voices Emily and I had used with each other.

"What's wrong? You're always going on about how helpful he is." Emily smiled sweetly, but her eyes gleamed an unspoken challenge, and I recognized again the cold bitch that liked manipulating her friends as power-trip training for her future life as a socialite. "I'm sure he has more than enough one-on-one time to go around. Don't you, Ben?"

I also recognized my old self in that moment: lost in the sauce, bending over backwards to please anything that had a pretty smile and a second to spare on me. "Uh...of course, yeah. More than happy to help."

"Of course, I don't have Giants games to take you to." Emily shrugged. "I'll have to think of another way to pay you back."

Gone were all traces of the game; only brazen innuendos remained. This Emily -- the Emily instructed to be publicly interested in me, to goad another conquest of mine into a battle for my favor -- was as sexy as any creature Miranda had been for me over our fantasy weekend. That my mind's eye could see the bra beneath her shirt and the tits beneath her bra only made matters all the more dire. I wanted to fold her in half, fuck her senseless in the science wing, and take high fives from the onlookers as they saw her gush on command. (Wait. Fuck. Could I do that?)

Miranda hadn't dignified that last jab with a response, so Emily turned back to me.

"So when are you free next?" She asked, hoisting herself up onto the lab bench now. "There's a lot I need to learn before this midterm next week."

"Yeah, I..." I almost went to check my calendar before I realized this was not a real thing. "I've got time today, just after school."

"Oh, I have cheerleading practice." Emily gave a theatrical sigh. "I'm free after, though I'll probably be too gross and sweaty. I wouldn't go anywhere without showering first."

I saw the bait dangling. Miranda did as well; and took it.

"Then where did you run off to on Monday?"

"Monday?" Emily asked innocently.

"After practice. You didn't say goodbye to anyone, your car was still in the parking lot, and you left all of your stuff in the locker room. Abby thought you'd died."

"Oh." Emily laughed again. "Well, a lady doesn't kiss and tell." But a lady does send a less-than-subtle glance in my direction, apparently. One that was not lost on Miranda, who stared daggers at my poorly-maintained poker face.

"So, anyway." Emily again. "After cheerleading today?"

"Yeah, sounds good." I met Miranda's glare again. "I'm usually booked then, but I'd gladly shake my schedule around to fit you in."

"Aww, you're sweet." Emily beamed another dazzler and touched my upper arm lightly. She was no longer the only person disproportionately horny during third block.

"Yeah, he's a real peach." Miranda muttered.

The mystery liquid was boiling, so we recommitted to the farce of finishing the lab. For her quality work, I hammered Emily's pressure points, either commanding her to execute the next steps of the lab, or asking leading questions to move her along the instructions. By the time I got to "So what's the molar mass of our mystery substance?", she was sending me looks pleading for mercy. I can't imagine what being wildly turned on, by a guy you'd literally just entered an intense sexual relationship with, in the middle of public felt like. But I guessed it was a little stressful.

Miranda ignored us, finishing and submitting her lab in silence. She left as she came -- without Emily -- so I accompanied my new paramour out of the classroom.

"What's your next class?"

"History."

"Can I walk you there?"

"You can, but I'm not sure you should, if we're still trying to keep it a secret. Miranda's gone, so..."

"So you don't want to be seen with me?" I said it jokingly, but she took it seriously.

"I don't." She nodded sternly. "I have to keep us a secret from everyone but Miranda, and if we start walking together, my friends will definitely ask questions."

"Why can't you just explain it away?"

"I can, but...can you please stop asking me questions?!" I looked up, surprised -- her face was flushed and her brows drawn. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I just...every time I answer one of your questions, it just makes me...it's just like, a lot to talk to you for so long."

"I understand." I chose my words carefully. "I can help you with that, if you want me to."

"How?"

"I can make you cum," I whispered. "Should help turn you down a little bit."