FocusTunes Ch. 06

"What do you mean, you can make me cum?" Emily looked mortified, checking over both shoulders as we veered off against the lockers, out of the flow of traffic.

"Are you ready? I asked her guardedly, my heart pumping with excitement.

"Ready for what? What are you going to--"

"Cum."

Nothing happened.

"I'm...already here?" Emily told me, extremely confused now.

It took me a second to figure it out.

"Oh. No, not come. Cum. Like, C-U-M cum."

Still nothing. I locked in her gaze with mine, grabbing one of her shoulders.

"Emily. Orgasm. Right now."

Nothing happened.

"Ben," Emily said slowly, smiling pitifully. "Did you think you can make a girl orgasm just by telling her to?"

Fuck.

"Uh...no." I stammered. "Obviously not. I just...you usually do what...I mean, you like it when I tell you to do stuff, so I figured..."

She openly giggled at me now, hiding her laugh behind a hand. "I do what you tell me to because I want to. But sweetie, you can't just make me cum by telling me to. That's impossible."

"You think it is," I thought sourly. "Well, sorry. Guess I can't help you out then."

"It's okay. You can help me out tonight." And Emily faded back into the foot traffic.

As she faded away, I realized: that was all real. I was going to meet up with Emily tonight; I actually did need to scramble my schedule for later today. And I needed to...you know, stop trying to fucking make girls cum in the hallway with a command.

Fuck. Life's weird.

-----

Miranda lived in a nice suburb; Emily lived in some fucking Bel Air shit. I had to get a visitor's pass for my car at the front gate to her subdivision, her front door was tall and arched like a cathedral's, and there was a stone fucking lion statue erected by the doorbell. I was wearing my nice khakis. So, you know, equal levels of elitist regalia.

Emily answered the door when I rang. She was wearing different clothes than she did to school, which felt unnecessary, until I remembered: I was wearing my nice khakis. She had yoga pants on, high waisted and deep burgundy, pulling the flair of her hips into an impossibly dainty waist that flickered skin beneath a loose, dark top. Every time I glanced her over -- and I did that a lot nowadays -- I was struck by just how athletic her frame was. Don't let them tell you cheerleading isn't a sport.

"Hey." Good fucking line.

"Hey." She smiled as she onced me over, as I had her just a moment ago. "Nice pants."

"Ahh, fuck you."

"Oh, sorry." She turned contrite. "I didn't mean to..."

"No, no, it's fine." I waved a hand. "Poking fun at me isn't being disrespectful. Feel comfortable joking with me."

"Alright." She breathed a smile of relief. "Well, if you were going for the school-issued tutor look, you nailed it."

"I find it best to stick to what I know." I said cheerfully as I stepped into her home. "So...we are actually doing chem work, then?"

"You'll just have to find out, I guess." She flounced some hair over her shoulder in what now seemed like a go-to move, turning and stalking her way through the foyer, her ass popping with some added sway as she did. I did the "do I take my shoes off in this extremely nice house? Do my socks have any holes? Where do I put my fucking shoes?!" panic dance for a few seconds before scampering after her, feeling very much like I was sticking to what I knew: a yuppy tutor scrambling to find his depth.

I followed her into an open concept fucking kitchen/island/bar/dining area thing. (I don't know what to call rooms in houses like this, there are too many of them and they have too many things in them and there are no fucking walls.) Her bag was there; her books were on the table. Okay. Chemistry textbook. That's confirmed.

I wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or not. I was actually...kinda proud?

"Mom, this is Ben Flabberstackers." Emily gestured at a woman in the kitchen. (You forgot about the last name thing, didn't you?) Shorter than Emily, with straight, platinum blonde hair and synthetically enhanced boobs, Mrs. Brooks was a fairly boilerplate trophy wife. She was wearing athleisure like her daughter, save for oscillating golden hoop earrings and a garish statement necklace, and her trim frame was hugged in all the right spots.

I only checked her out with my peripherals -- a skill I was in danger of losing, given my newfound liberty -- sending her my most harmless smile. A lot was outside of my expertise, but charming moms? That was easy money.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Brooks." I reached out to shake her hand. "You have a beautiful home."

"Well, thank you, young man." A Southern drawl; was not ready for that. "I appreciate you helping out my Emily. She told me you tutor Miranda as well?"

"I do, yes." And fuck them both as well, ma'am. Your daughter likes to thank me when I spank her. Wanna find out if it's hereditary?

"Well, she's been doing very well for herself in classes, from what LeAnn tells me." She folded her arms, frowning slightly. "Maybe you can work some of your magic on Emily's grades."

"I'm sure we can get something good done. Your daughter's a hard worker." I smiled over at Emily, who was pointedly ignoring the same conversation that was pointedly ignoring her presence. "Is this a good spot for us to set up?"

"Oh, that's just fine." Mrs. Brooks shooed me along with a wave. "You get working, then."

It was a good spot to set up...for actual homework. It was central along foot traffic routes and had sightlines galore -- cause why would a tutor and tutee need privacy during a house call?

Emily and I got started. It was...slow going. I asked for her chapter notes, and she asked me "What chapter notes?," so I had to go back over the lectures from memory and the textbook, forcing her to take notes for her own retention and future studying use. I was half-tempted to pull out FocusTunes and use it for its intended reason, but let's be honest: I would not have ended up using it for its intended reason.

Predictably, a tutoring session involved too many questions and commands for Emily to endure. It seemed that any prolonged period spent in conversation with me was going to lean against her self-control. We started at a reasonable distance apart, but after a half hour of discussion, she'd scooched her way into my personal bubble and inhaled heavily anytime she leaned across my chest to peer over the textbook. Her mom, flitting in and out as she went about her afternoon, reappeared in the kitchen. I was uncomfortable, but Emily barely budged.

"Having fun, kids?"

"About as much fun as you can have with stoichiometry, ma'am."

"Do away with that 'ma'am' talk." She waved at me again, burying her head in the refrigerator. As she did, a finger grazed the top of my knee. Emily, her eyes glued to her notes, had snuck a hand under the counter and was giving my leg a light squeeze. I was uncomfortable.

"So, what are you going to do with that big brain of yours, Benjamin? College-wise."

"I'm keeping my options open for now. I'd like to try a few things at university before I make a commitment to one specific field." I'm thinking experimental neuroscience. Are you familiar with Project MKUltra? What if I told you that...

"Good. That's what I keep telling Emily: go to school, try different things, experience life." Well, not exactly my message, but that's fine. "My college years are some of my best memories. So much discovery."

My mind immediately went to a younger Mrs. Brooks, entangled with a hot coed in the upper bedroom of a sorority house; Emily's hand went a few inches up my thigh.

"Where did you go to school, Mrs. Brooks?"

"University of Texas."

"Ah. Hook 'em."

"Hook 'em!" She beamed at me. "I'm trying to convince Emily to go out and visit, but she thinks it's too far from home."

"Because it is." Emily looked up at her mother now, simultaneously sliding her reach further across my leg to begin tracing light circles on my inner thigh. "And in the middle of the desert."

"I dunno." I scratched my head, trying my best to look Extremely Fucking Relaxed. "Austin is a pretty short drive to Dallas, Houston, San Antonio, College Station. Good athletic programs, so their cheer program is probably legit. Quality academics, too."

Emily turned to me, and while her gaze was playfully cold, her touch -- which had now brushed against the head of my erect dick -- was plenty hot. "You've barely been here and you're already taking her side."

"Helps when she's always right," Mrs. Brooks said proudly.

"In my experience--" Emily gave my dick a squeeze, relishing in the shock on my face and the stutter in my words. "Uh...mother knows best, and all that."

"He is a smart one." Mrs. Brooks sent me a smile; I have no idea what my face did back.

"You know what, Mom? I think we will go up to my room to study." Emily had gathered her things before I put the pieces together. I was going to need to...uh, stand. And walk.

"I told you it'd be less distracting up there!" Mrs. Brooks wagged her head. "Right again."

"That's...okay?" I was surprised.

"Of course!" She gave me one final, dismissive wave. "If you need anything, just give a holler."

I stayed seated for a second, praying she was going to turn and leave. I was sporting a prominent boner, and there was no path to the staircase that covered my exit. She stayed in the kitchen however, glancing quizzically at my hesitance, while Emily marched on to the foyer, giving me no time to hesitate. I popped up, jammed my hand into my pocket like I couldn't find my phone in its plunging depths, and whizzed my way to Emily's side.

"Something wrong?" she asked casually.

"Fuck you again," I muttered.

"Mmh, I wish you would."

"We could have just been in your room from the start?" I whispered angrily, using my pocketed hand to adjust my hardware, still uncomfortable against my boxers.

"Of course. She doesn't care." Emily smiled her winning grin. "But where's the fun in that?"

"Cheeky girl." We started up the stairs; I took the opportunity to pinch her ass firmly. "Almost disrespectful."

Emily giggled, the tone in my voice assuring her I meant nothing serious. I took another pinch at her ass as she hastened up the steps and led me to her room.

Ah, the teenage girl's bedroom. Hallowed ground. Emily's had a poster bed with plunging, translucent drapes on all sides, twinkling lights strung up all along the posts and across the ceiling. A bi-fold full length mirror with iridescent LED lights along the perimeter cast further twinkles across the room. Beside it was a standing garment rank filled with clothes, fancy shoes on display on accompanying shelves, framed pictures of sunsets and friends and grayscale #strong #women quotes peppering the walls. Little bit of irony there.

I'm not going to lie: it was a sick aesthetic.

"Wow." I whistled softly. "It's amazing in here."

"Thanks." I heard the door click shut behind me. Wheew. Every hair on my body stood up on end.

"So, are we..." Fuck me, I was really asking this again. "Are we still doing chem, or...?"

"I don't know..." She shrugged lightly, her now familiar, attentive gaze on mine. "You tell me." Now that subtext, I could read.

I admired the view for a minute. I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted from her, to be frank. I mean, sex, obviously. I wanted sex. But at this moment, there was nothing particular that I was hankering for.

"I'll tell you what." I leaned against her desk, a safe distance away. "Why don't you tell me what you want?"

"Because that's not our vibe." It was a rhetorical question, but Emily answered it anyway. "Usually you tell me what you want."

"Sure." I shrugged. "But I'm telling you now: tell me what you want."

"I want you to fold me over the bed and fuck me like you did on the car at the lake on Monday." Her response was matter-of-fact, as if the answer should have been obvious. I felt a nod of agreement from my dick: shoulda been obvious, dumbass.

"Well, okay then."

Even as Emily walked purposefully over to her bed, it already felt...weird. She was clearly aroused, giving me another swaying show as she peeled her leggings over her hips and ass, revealing that perfect, glistening pussy. She pulled one long leg out from the cuff, and I realized: no panties; just leggings.

"No panties today?" My voice jumped in my throat with the naughtiness of it all; fuck, I was still not used to any of this.

"I figured you didn't like seeing the line when you stare at my ass." She said matter-of-factly; my dick leapt, threatening to turn my nice khakis into my ripped-at-the-crotch khakis.

I was shucking my pants when I realized the discordant tone: romance. There had never been any romance between Emily and I, but at the lake and in my bed this morning, I'd been so recklessly horny I hadn't really cared. Then, she had been a tool, an outlet, a void I could fill, and in doing so, fill a void in me. She did whatever I wanted, my want screaming its rage, drunk with power at the controls of my mind. But right now? I was sober, and this oddly transactional sex was even more sobering.

"Hey, wait a second." I said. She turned to look at me, worry and need a mixed cocktail across her soft features. "I told you to tell me what you wanted. Don't you want...like, more? Like, don't you want...I don't know, foreplay or something?"

"We've never really done the foreplay thing." She shrugged lightly. "Also, not to be rude, but I was giving you an over-the-pants handjob like, a minute ago."

I chuckled.

"That's true." I thought for a second. "Okay, answer this: why do you want to have sex right now?"

"Because I'm horny, and we've been fucking." She was compelled to be respectful and answering my questions felt good, but still, a slight "you fucking idiot" note still slipped into her tone.

"Right, but what if I told you I didn't want to have sex?"

"Then we wouldn't, I guess."

"Okay." I thought again. "And what if I said I would fuck, but only if--"

"Ben." Emily held up a hand, smiling sweetly at me. "I'm sorry I'm interrupting or whatever, but I have to tell you something. Do you remember when you asked me if I was into you? In your car after cheerleading. And I said no?"

"...yeah?"

"I was answering your questions honestly...then. But then later, at the lake, I told you I was into you, and we fucked, right?"

"Yeah."

"That was because I realized, like...it's really hot when you take control. I liked doing anything you told me to do. It turned me on. Letting you do what you wanted with my body? It was fucking amazing. This morning, when I was driving over, I was so fucking horny, I was...touching myself as I was driving, just thinking about what you were going to do with me. Thinking about it now has me wet all over again." She crossed her legs daintily, squeezing her thighs as if to prevent her leaking pussy from gushing out onto the covers. "And when you told me to thank you whenever you slapped me, like...I almost came just from you slapping me. I like, never come from fucking other guys...and I feel like I can come just by talking to you."

She squirmed a hand between her clenched thighs. I could infer what was happening down there.

"So, like...I'm not into you because of all your nerdy stuff. It's fine, but just, like...girls don't like a bunch of questions about why they're horny or wanna fuck. Especially not me, with you. I like when you ignore what I want and just tell me what to do. I like when you boss me around and...and...use my body how you want, and--"

"Stop talking."

She stopped talking.

"Open your legs."

She opened her legs. She was playing with herself, a slow circle of pressure along her clit, her pussy winking at me on every upstroke. I crossed our divide in quick and long strides, mounting the bed behind her and snaking my hand across her waist to take her place.

Her pussy was wet, but my hand was dry. After a few passes over her clit, I reached further down and slid a finger inside of her, and after a moment of warming up, a second. She mewled at the entrance, but especially crooned when my fingers returned north of her entry and found her clit again, now with added lubrication.

"Kiss me." I said, and she did, turning her head and falling back into my shoulder to get the angle right. I buried my free hand in her hair and held up her head, quickly increasing the intensity of our kiss into a full-blown make out. I didn't know if I was doing it up to her standards -- this was my first kiss with Emily -- but I figured any kiss that includes fingering is usually pleasurable for the girl. From the sounds she was making, it was good.

"Tell me if this is too much," I whispered between our lips as I put harder and faster pressure on her clit.

"itsnot," she whispered back, leaning more of her weight back into my lap as she arched her hips forward, pushing her cleft into my hand. I could feel her button bouncing across my fingertips, and with her cradled in my arms, the shake in her muscles with every touch. I kept up the steady pressure as her tongue danced with mine, and after a few minutes of an ever-intensifying pace, felt the breath catch in her lungs as she began to cum.

"Don't be loud." I hissed quickly, remembering our vocalic fucking from earlier. She obeyed again, her moans straining quietly against the barrier in her mind before she buried her face in my shirt and muffled her orgasmic cries with my chest chest. I brought her down slowly, plunging again into her pussy to feel the warmth of her cum, the final pulses of her tight muscles.

As she came down from the high, I felt her pawing hands find the hem of my shirt and begin to tug, her buried face beginning to peck at my chest with quick kisses. Each kiss was a completion of a command, and another plunge of my metaphorical dick into her metaphorical pussy.

Time to do away with the metaphors. I rolled her all the way on top of me, and she quickly straddled my waist, as ready as I was. Entrance was easy after her recent orgasm, and from this angle, I felt the smooth ride of her cunt on the underside of my dick for the entire length of a stroke. Fuck me sideways.

Nope, wait, fuck me regular. Fuck me like this. Emily planted her hands above my shoulders and took care of me. It was the same angle as I'd fucked Miranda in her basement a few days/10 billion years ago, but Emily's athletic ability took it to a different level. She kept an arch in her lower back that sharpened the angle of my entry, pushing tight friction across my dick as it slid inside her channel. Her pace was agonizingly and impossibly slow, her shoulders visibly tight in exertion as she slid ever so meticulously up, then down, then up, then down, then up, then down.

I started bucking my hips out of instinct, in an effort to get deeper and longer and harder inside of her. She let me buck, because that's what I wanted to do, but I almost wished she had held me down and continued to ride me like that until I came. The pace, the control, the sensation? Something for another day, I suppose.

I was fucking her now, as she held herself a few inches above my waist so that I could plunge my way in. I tired quickly -- I barely had any leverage, with my feet hanging off the bed -- so she reared back, placed a stabilizing hand on my chest and began bouncing herself on my pole. Further away from me now, she was able to watch me, and I was able to watch her, the exotic glamour of her Oriental features captured nicely by the soft ambiance of the room. Her eyes were on mine. They were always on me.

"Why are we always fucking while you're still wearing a shirt?" I asked breathlessly, noting again that I'd somehow only managed to get her bottoms off in my haste.