Her Brother’s Best Friend Pt. 01

The summer of 2017 was going to be her summer. The summer when everything changed, when Molly Sue Woodbridge went from being mousy and moderately boring to the hottest girl in town. The stars had aligned perfectly for Molly. She turned 18 in April and, with some spending money accrued from her retail job, she was already imagining the fabulous news clothes and haircut they would buy her. And Molly was right; her life was about to change.

**********

"You're supposed to be here to take me to the grocery store!" Molly complained to her brother Jason, blowing an ill-conceived fringe of bangs out of her eyes for the 300th time that day and pressing her cell against her flushed face. "That was the point of Mom and Dad letting you stay rent free and paying your car insurance."

"Listen, I'm really sorry," he replied, his voice jerking across the poor connection. "Val and I have plans for the weekend. I told her I would be here. Can't you just be cool about this? Having a house all to yourself is the dream of every 18-year-old on earth, for fucks' sake."

"Fine! Disappear like you always do. I'll take the bus tomorrow and spend 3 hours doing an errand that should take 30 minutes. But don't think I'm going to lie for you when I talk to Mom tomorrow night," Molly barked, hanging up the phone.

Molly sucked in a gasp of air and tried to rein in her temper. If her brother had simply texted her earlier, she could've stopped on her way back from her waitressing gig. Now the buses had stopped running for the night, and she didn't want to waste her meager savings on an Uber ride. She resigned herself to a hungry evening.

As she slumped her way upstairs on the way to a much needed shower, her brother's comment about having the house to herself floated back to her. She would have the munchies all night, but maybe she could distract herself.

**********

Michael Randall answered his buzzing phone without glancing away from the road to see who was calling and immediately regretted it.

"Hey, Mikey! How you doin', man?" Jason the jerk-off chirped at him.

"Shit. What the fuck do you want? I told you not to call me anymore," he shot back. Jason was a fair weather friend at best these days, more interested in keeping up with his university crowd than in spending time with old high school pals. Michael grew tired of doling out favors six months ago, when Jason had asked him to cover yet another check at the local bar and never paid him back. Thirteen years of friendship gone over a $150 tab.

"Don't hang up! Don't--it's--it's for Molly! Okay? I fucked up."

Michael pulled over. How did Jason do it? he wondered. How did he always come up with the one thing that made Michael listen?

"What did you do?" he asked flatly.

"Nothing! I just--I forgot I was supposed to give her a ride to the grocery store tonight. She's still saving for a car. I'm all the way in Eldersberg with Val and the cupboards are pretty bare."

Michael rubbed his face, pushing his hands up and then driving his fingers into his hair. Somewhere in this, Jason was trying to save his own neck. He'd never spared a thought for the comfort of others before, so why should he start now? But Michael wasn't sure he cared if Jason did land on top. Molly, six years Michael's junior, was on Michael's mind far more often than he'd like to admit. She was as sweet and as appealing as a popsicle in July, and deserved far better than a flake like Jason for a brother. Thinking back to summer two years past, of her in the yellow polk-a-dot bikini she'd found so funny, still threw him into a state of supreme discomfort.

"I'll take her a pizza or something," Michael found himself volunteering.

"Ugh, you're the best! And could you take her to the store tomorrow? I'm not back for 4 days or so--"

Michael hung up. There's only so much a man can take. Looking both ways up and down the road, he turned his truck around headed for Zitti's.

**********

Michael knocked on the door of Jason's parents' house for the third time, then craned his neck toward the bay window. It was lit up, but no answer. Staring at the bags of takeout he had with him, he debated his options.

A vulgar, ceramic frog on the stoop caught his eye. Only in the suburbs, he thought in amusement. He crouched, careful not dump the food, and tipped the statue. There, under its lip, sat a key. At least he could leave the food and a note with his number on it for Molly in the kitchen.

He entered the house slowly, and walked directly to the kitchen, dumping his parcels on the counter and looking around in the dim room for a pen and paper. A faint buzzing echoed through the house and he wondered absently what appliance it belonged to as he rifled through random drawers. Then he heard a moan.

Immediately alarmed he moved in the direction of the sound. What if she's had an accident and is laying hurt somewhere? he thought on a surge of adrenalin. Another moan pierced the buzzing sound, which was loudening as he approached the dimly lit living room.

Laying on the room's cream oversized sectional, back-arched and wearing nothing but her O-face, a blindfold, and noise cancelling headphones, was Molly, her right arm busy slamming a large, noisy purple vibrator in and out of her glistening cunt.

She was beautiful, laid out like a gift with frustration-free packaging, her breasts full, hips rocking rhythmically, skin glowing under the dim synthetic light. A towel lay on the floor nearby, and her hair surrounded her head in a tangled, wet halo.

The slut didn't even bother to dress after her shower. Just wandered into the living room naked with her favorite vibrator, Michael thought incredulously, his dick straining hard against his zipper.

Molly moaned again and begged her imaginary lover, "Please fuck me harder. I'm your little whore. I'll do anything. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and started snapping photos and video. She was going to be his before the night was out, but he wanted an insurance policy first.

**********

Molly blew out a slow breath, laying limply on the couch after her fourth orgasm. Carefully, wincing a little, she withdrew the vibrator from her sensitized pussy. Another round would be fun, she thought, but decided against it. Diminishing returns and all that. Pulling off her headphones and silk sleeping mask, she grabbed her towel from the floor to clean herself up.

"Molly?" a voice called from the direction of the kitchen.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! She wrapped the small towel around herself quickly and thrust the vibrator under the couch.

"It's Michael. Jason's friend?" he said as his voice drew closer to the living room.

Relief flooded Molly for a moment, followed by a crushing surge of embarrassment. She really didn't want Michael seeing her like this.