FocusTunes Ch. 06

"Self-conscious about...my boobs...remember?" She panted through her words.

"Don't be. They're beautiful," I told her. "Take your clothes off."

She kept bouncing even as she did, stripping first her top and her sports bra until her tits popped into view and began undulating with her rhythm. They may have been small, but as they glistened with a light sheen of sweat as she rode, they looked good enough to eat.

I reached up and slapped one, almost knocking Emily off of her pace. Her eyes flashed and a smile leapt to her lips. "Thank you," she said, in a sultry tone that suggested she wanted another.

So I gave her another. And another. And one more, just in case.

She thanked me for each one, gasps of pain perforating her litanies. I stopped to let her resume her pace, enjoying the visual: flawless chocolate skin, bouncing tits, arms pinned back on my thighs, face screwed in concentration. I dropped my eyes to our conjoining, the grip of her hairless pussy taut the head of my dick as she hovered momentarily at the apex of every bounce. Once again, Emily's riding took me right to the edge, her ability to work my entire length without disconnecting creating a sensation wrung from heaven. My toes curled, my spine straightened, and my disbelief grew.

I felt my cum rising through my dick and went to warn Emily, and in that moment, realized: I came inside her before. And I had not...checked in...on the...you know...coolness of that.

The realization filled me with guilt, but I was also full of cum -- and that was the more pressing problem.

"Emily, I'm gonna cum." I hissed. "You need to--"

She was way ahead of me. She leapt off my dick like it was on fire, vaulted off the bed, and landed with her mouth only inches from my cockhead. Her hands and lips descended simultaneously, and with how close I was, it only took a few strong pumps and greedy laps with her tongue for me to explode. Her lips wrapped around me as I came, and not a drop was spilled out from that seal.

I finished with a groan and she slid her lips off of me, settling back on her haunches. Without hesitation, she swallowed my cum, letting out a sigh of contentment at the sensation. I realized then why I hadn't needed to instruct her what to do with my cum: she always swallowed.

Her dainty tongue darted out to clean off her lips as she rolled back onto her ass now; I flopped back onto the bed, staring at the spider web of twinkling lights suspended from the ceiling, seeing stars for the second time in as many moments.

"Better than chemistry?" Emily asked coyly as she slunk back onto the bed, finding a comfortable swell of muscle on my chest in which to bury her chin as she gazed up at me lovingly.

"Way fucking better than chemistry," I agreed wistfully. "Though I have to imagine your mother wouldn't be as impressed with me if she knew...shit! Your mom! Do you think she heard us?"

Emily was already shaking her head, smiling.

"She's on the Peleton right now, there's no way she can hear us." She was right: a faint whirring could be heard from downstairs.

"If you applied the same foresight to studying as you did to sneaking in a quick fuck, you'd ace that midterm." I said wryly, and Emily rolled her eyes.

"And he starts being a nerd again." She sighed animatedly, hopping to her feet. "I need water, be right back."

She slinked out of the door, bare as the day she was born, the momentary glow from the lit hallway framing her silhouette with a heavenly glow. I laid in comfortable silence for a moment, appreciating Emily's earlier, passionate speech. She made me...act. Perhaps I had acted a bit too rashly when I had first taken her under my spell, but it was that...confidence, that aggression, that swiftness and decisiveness and power that Emily now liked in me, now elicited from me. Previously, I'd had power, but lacked the accompanying attitude to wield it to its fullest; now, my spirit matched my capability.

I slid on my boxers and fished my phone from my pants pocket as I considered our relationship. Even as I laid there on bottom, I felt like the aggressor, the wielder of power, the...dominant, I suppose. Yes, I liked the physical dominance of pinning her to a car and fucking her -- but who wouldn't feel dominant then? I also felt dominant when she was on top going at her sickeningly slow pace, because I knew why she was doing it. Only because I allowed it. Only because it was pleasing to me.

She returned then, glass in hand, pausing in the doorway to let me drink in that framed silhouette, that glistening aura of sweat and light and beauty.

"Like what you see?"

"I do. Very much."

"Good."

I smirked and clicked open my phone. I had three missed texts: one from my dad, one from Google Calendar, and one from Miranda.

I opened the text. You can figure out which fucking one.

M: Come over

Ah. Fuck.

I looked back up: Emily was stretching, a long leg mounted on the bed and her shoulders folded over her knee, both hands wrapped around her toes.

I looked back down: Come over. Above it, the link to FocusTunes. Above that, the nude.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

-----

I was on my way to Miranda's house.

It...wasn't hard. I told Emily that I was leaving and that I'd be down for more dual tutoring session/booty calls whenever she wanted. Again, she went for a cautionary "Not sure we'll do this again," but this one was far more feeble than the last. Infatuation had its hooks in her.

Now, I needed its hooks in someone else.

Emily was disappointed that I was running out on her, and I couldn't tell her to not be disappointed, but I could tell her to wear no panties to school tomorrow, and that idea clearly excited her. Me, too. I told Mrs. Brooks that I was proud of her daughter's efforts -- because I was, really -- and left tire tracks in their driveway as I hit 60 just by backing out.

This was it, right? This was the fucking window. This was the inevitability. She wanted to fuck me, she wanted to suck my dick, and she could...if she just overlooked my blunder from earlier this week. Hey, I was new to this! I didn't mean anything by it! I was outside of my head, I'm so sorry Miranda, I'll never do that again, oooh, kiss and make up, hey by the way, listen to this real quick...

No.

No. No haste, no flying in without a plan, no abducting Emily from cheerleading practice. I'd done that once and I wasn't going to do it again. This was all about mending the bridge, getting back on speaking terms with Miranda. The perfect opportunity for FocusTunes would come later.

As I parked the car and leapt out, I snagged my headphones from my backpack. Just in case "later" was in like, five minutes.

I realized as I jogged around to Miranda's patio doors that I hadn't even texted her back; she didn't know I was coming. Was that...romantic? It felt grand and stupid, which is how romantic things usually feel.

I knocked. The wait was long enough for me to pull out my phone twice, start texting out an "I'm here" message, and delete it. I was on my third go before the den light flickered on and light footsteps made their way to the door.

It opened.

Miranda wasn't striking a pose in yoga pants. She wasn't dressed up for an outing. She was in comfy joggers and a formless, long-sleeved shirt, her curves impossible to hide but still bashful, her makeup wiped clean from the exhaustion of the day, her feet covered by bunny rabbit slippers. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

"I owe you an apology." I had decided on this line in the car. It was truthful, and also completely duplicitous.

"You do." Miranda agreed, her voice tight and guarded. "Come in."

I followed her, my eyes nowhere near a girl's ass for the first time in almost a week. The difference between Miranda and Emily fully struck me for the first time, now that I had definitively left one in favor of the other. I had sculpted Emily to fit my base desires; Miranda naturally fit my higher ones. I wanted Emily to make me feel good; I wanted to make Miranda feel good. Emily orbited me, and as my heart fluttered with every glance I stole of Miranda's steeled eyes and pursed lips, I realized: I orbited her. Emily was a moon, but Miranda was the sun. (And Juliet is the east, or some other shit.)

Miranda and I sat down at the wet bar, exactly eight floor tiles from where I had made her drool on herself to earn the right to suck my cock. NOT THAT I WAS THINKING ABOUT THAT OR ANYTHING.

"Well." She looked at me expectantly. "Go ahead."

"Okay." Genuine contrition seized me. "It was fucked up, to call you and just...demand your time like that. I don't know. I...I'm realizing that this fuckbuddy thing is going to be harder on me than I thought. Maybe it would work with someone else, but..." Oh, shove a stick up my ass and call me a lollipop. "I have real feelings for you. And you know that, and I know that, so I just feel like I can't really pretend."

"If you actually like someone, you don't insist that they change their life to meet up with you whenever you want," Miranda pointed out.

"No, you're right." I was obviously not fucking good at this. "I just...I wanted to do the fuckbuddy thing, and I wanted to be cool and keep our sex going really strong and spontaneous, like it had been before. I don't know, Miranda, I just...I'm sorry for treating you like that. There's no excuse for it, and I won't do it again."

Best to shut up and let that all sit there -- eventually, you have to stop digging yourself a grave, right? Miranda was silent for a few moments, nodding along as she comprehended.

"I get it," she said quietly. "It was really out of character for you, but we've both been doing some out of character stuff the past week. And I owe you an apology, too. I don't know why I finally decided to get with you after all this time, and it's been really good...but I knew this was going to be a problem. That's why I never really did anything with you before: it wouldn't be fair when I just wanted to fuck and you wanted...more." My long-term brain perked up: she was doing what Heidi had done, filling in the gaps of FocusTunes command with our existing relationship. In her head, she had always wanted to fuck me -- so why hadn't she? Because we were friends, and I was smitten with her, and she didn't want to break my heart. It only made sense, so her brain colored in the lines.

"So I'm sorry that I also helped get us to this spot. I haven't really been fair with you, or a good communicator, or anything."

"No, it's okay!" I leapt at the shared contrition, quickly approaching reconciliation. "We can just go back to how we were earlier, we can be more casual, I won't always be--"

"Can we be more casual because you're fucking Emily now, too?"

I stopped in my tracks. I had believed her eyes were frozen over in residual frustration; but it was a newfound anger. I thought her lips were trembling with worry and pity; they were holding back a surge of choice words.

"I..."

"You won't even lie right to my face?" Miranda scoffed. "I guess that's good for you, then."

"Miranda, I..."

"What? I tell you I won't leave my friends for you once, so you get one of my friends to fuck you instead?" Miranda's voice quivered now. "How the fuck did you even get with her? I didn't even know you guys talked!"

"Miranda, we didn't--"

"Yes, you did!" she yelled. "I fucking asked her, Ben -- and she couldn't wait to fucking tell me, as if she was fucking proud that she took you or something. You know, she always made fun of me for being friends with you, always called you a geek, told me you were just friends with me because I had big tits. Well, look where we fucking are now! You only came tonight because you thought we were going to fuck again, didn't you?!"

I didn't have an answer to that, so I reached out for her hand. "Miranda, I'm not just frien--"

"Don't FUCKING touch me!" She whipped her hand back. "You know what? You're just like Oliver. You don't really ca--"

"I am not like Oliver!" It was my turn to interrupt. "I just told you how I feel about you -- how I actually fucking feel about you. He doesn't--"

"Right after you came from Emily's house!" Miranda spat. "And what were you doing there, Ben?!"

"Tutoring! Fucking chemistry!"

"Oliver was doing extra work at soccer practice when he was cheating on me with Becca." Miranda leered at me. "Same shit."

"I'm sorry, but how is it 'cheating on you' when you've been the first one to tell me at every fucking turn that we're not actually fucking dating?!" In my head at the time, this was a great point. Looking back on it...

"Because you don't sleep with the friends of girls you want to date and claim to like, you fucking idiot!" Miranda stood up, recoiling further from me. "That's it. I'm fucking done. Get out."

Fear washed over me like a cool wind. This was finality; this was a clean break. This wasn't the open window. It was the closing door.

"Grab her and force her to listen," the devil told me, his panic multiplying mine, my phone burning a hole in my pocket. "Shove the earbud in her ear and make her listen. You can do it."

I sat frozen in place.

"Play it without the earbuds," he insisted. "Just hit play and plug your ears as hard as you can. You'll make it. She won't."

I didn't move.

"Get the fuck out, Ben." Tears had started streaming down Miranda's face, and their freefalls finally silenced my greater demons. She was the center of my orbit, and her pain was wrought from my recklessness, my envy. This was the consequence of power wielded wildly and childishly: incidental, devastating blows on those close to its vortex.

"I'm sorry, Miranda." I stood up and looked her dead in the eyes, so intensely that she averted her gaze. "I promise: I will fix this."

She said nothing. So I left.