Inside Information Pt. 02

It's so easy to look back with perfect 20/20 hindsight and say, "If I would've done this; if I could've done that; if I had only known."

But life doesn't work that way, at least it didn't for me.

If I had only realized back then that I possessed all of the information I needed to straighten out my life right away, everything might have turned out great. But I didn't realize it. Not right away. Not for a long time. Not until it was too late.

* * *

For two days I sat at home and did absolutely nothing; nothing but obsess over Missy and the cruel prank she played on me. I couldn't believe her sheer audacity. Did she really hate me that much? Did she really want to push me away that badly? Did watching me stroke my cock inches from her partially opened mouth really make her orgasm?

Everything about Missy was a contradiction. One second she would smile so warmly at me, and the next she'd insult me and walk away. For ten long years I willingly endured her rude tirades because of the way my heart would quicken each time I saw her. I eagerly suffered her merciless cock-teasing for a brief glimpse of her perfect tits, of her amazing ass. I gladly put up with all her abuse just for a glimpse of her sultry smile.

But no more.

After sifting through all of my doubt, blame, anger, betrayal, lust, and love, I came to realize a very important fact; I didn't do anything wrong. Missy asked me to show her my cock. She commanded me to stroke it for her. She begged me to cum on her naked tits. Since the first moment I saw her when I was eight years old and I instantly fell in love with her, I did her bidding, doing everything and anything she wanted. Like a whipped poodle, I jumped through hoops at her command. I did everything but grovel at her feet.

And what did that get me? I became a laughing stock to her and her friends.

The constant hard-on and the continual broken heart were gradually killing me. I wasn't going to do it any more. I couldn't. No matter how badly I yearned for her touch, and no matter how deeply I would always love Missy, I wasn't going to grovel at her feet. I had to keep my dignity. What was love worth if you had to give up your pride to get it?

So I vowed to just walk away from Missy O'Bannon. Quit her cold turkey like a bad habit. I promised myself that no matter how badly my heart ached, I wouldn't go running back to her. But, regardless of the strength of my resolve, I knew the very next time I saw her, my will would crumble like a stale cracker and I'd be doing her bidding again in an instant. I couldn't help it. Missy was everything I wanted in a girl, and she was the only girl I'd ever wanted.

She was gorgeous, smart, and strong willed. I would never forget how passionately she returned my kiss. I would never forget seeing her naked breasts, so round and so full and so starkly white against her tanned flesh. The way the tight, yellow bikini bottoms hugged her shapely ass was forever burned into my memory, and her beautiful face . . .

How do you walk away from your dream? Was it even possible? For the sake of my sanity and my pride, I had to try.

My buddies convinced me to meet them at a party that night. The thought of hanging out with my best friends and knocking back a few seemed like the perfect way to begin to forget. Plus, the people who'd be at that party were not the type of people Missy and her friends normally hung around, so there was no way I would bump into her there.

Famous last words.

I saw Missy the second I walked through the door.

She was standing on the far side of the living room, surrounded by a cluster of drooling, leering guys. Missy looked incredible. Her auburn hair tumbled down her back like a silken waterfall ablaze with the light from a Harvest moon. Her flowing hair framed her gorgeous face and cast most of her features in mysterious shadow. She was wearing all black. Under an opened button-down black shirt she wore a black tube top, which molded to her breasts like a second skin, and she was wearing skin tight black jeans that hugged her hips suggestively. She also wore black pumps with three inch heels. I'd never seen her wear all black before, and the effect was unbelievable. She looked so mysterious, so sensual.

She seemed bored with the knot of horny admirers in front of her. Her eyes were restlessly scanning the crowd, and when my friend Dan yelled my name from across the room, Missy's eyes immediately landed on mine. She gave me her trademark smirk, which meant she was in a foul mood, and that always meant trouble for me. Whenever she wore that condescending sneer, I could do nothing right.

I made my way to where my buddies Dan and Dave where sitting at a table, surrounded by a mob of girls. Those two had girls throwing themselves at them all the time. It was remarkable. To get to their table, I had to pass within arm's reach of Missy and her entourage.

Missy was holding a red plastic cup. As I drew nearer, she quickly drained it. I was close enough now to notice her eyes were glassy and a bit unfocused from the beer she was drinking. Swell, she was drunk and pissed off.

She stared silently at me as I wove through the mass of people. I smiled tentatively at her, but, mindful of the promise I'd made to myself to avoid her, I didn't stop and I didn't say anything. I was kind of proud of myself. I was two steps past her when I heard the snide comment. Hell, even through the tide of noise and music that made the walls vibrate, everybody heard it.

"Hey, jerk off. You better keep your dick in your pants." That was from Larry Watson, who was standing next to Missy. Larry and I had never been friends. We barely tolerated each other, and seeing him standing so close to Missy infuriated me.

I turned around in time to see Missy's smirk turn into a full blown snicker. The guys around her were laughing with her. But it was Missy's obvious pleasure that made me see red. "Thanks so much for telling everybody," I told her.

"I didn't tell anybody anything," Missy said firmly. There was a slight slur in her words. She set her jaw and glared stonily at me. I'd seen that stubborn look of hers a thousand times before. She wore it every time anyone doubted her sincerity.

"Right," I said flatly. "I'm supposed to believe anything you say now, especially after the other day? I don't think so."

"Look," Missy said sternly. Her eyes swiftly flashed green. Missy absolutely hated to be called a liar. She leveled a finger at me and spoke through clenched teeth. "It's not my fault you can't take a joke."

"A joke? You call embarrassing me like that a joke?" I retorted angrily.

"Well, no." Missy sounded regretful. In a classic twist of fate, the song ended and there was a sudden lull in the conversation the exact second Missy spat venomously, "What you whipped out of your shorts was the joke!" She was clearly heard by one and all.

Her cruel words instantly ripped my heart to shreds, and I stumbled backwards from the sheer nastiness of them. The humiliation and fury I felt two days ago was nothing compared to what surged through my boiling blood right then. My mouth worked soundlessly for several tense seconds that lasted an eternity. Though I felt the crowd turning their complete and undivided attention toward me like sharks sensing blood, my whole focus was on Missy's narrowed eyes and pinched face. I kept waiting to see the tiniest trace of remorse, of guilt, but the only emotion I saw on her livid face was stubborn pride.

Finally I gathered my wits and stopped sputtering. When I spoke, my voice was hoarse and strained. "I suppose our kiss was just a joke to you as well?"

Missy's nostrils flared briefly, and her voice positively dripped with scorn. "You call that a kiss?"

Even though the music continued, the crowd remained totally silent. Everyone around us gasped and moved in closer.

I fought to keep my eyes from tearing up, but I couldn't help it. Her harsh words were like a slap in the face. I didn't know what to say to her last insult. My gut twisted with agony, and all I could do was stare impotently at her while she maliciously lashed out at me again.

"Where'd you learn to kiss, your dog?" she retorted scathingly.

The crowd roared with laughter, and I could feel Missy drawing strength from their approval.

"Hell, I'll be lucky if I'm not scarred for life after that slobbery excuse for a kiss." Missy was glaring defiantly at me, with her jaw set even more stubbornly than before, as if she were daring me to defy her.

I swiped at my leaking eyes. My heart felt cold and dead in my chest. I didn't understand why Missy was saying those hurtful things to me. I could feel the distance between us growing wider every second. This was my last chance to let her know how much I loved her. But what could I tell her that would make her see how much I needed her? What could I do to show her that she was everything to me? I wracked my brain, scrounging desperately for that one bit of powerful wisdom, that one bit of inside information that would win her heart over.

But I came up empty.

Really, there was only one thing left to say, and that was the truth. I stood up straight and squared my shoulders. I spoke plainly, honestly. "That kiss meant the world to me, Missy. It was the perfect kiss. I'll never kiss another girl with as much passion or as much love."

"Was that your pathetic attempt to show me how much you care?" Missy laughed meanly, and her anger exploded. "What am I supposed to do? Swoon from the fervor of your lips? Should I tell you that no other kiss has made me feel as deeply loved as yours? Should I tell you that your love for me makes me ashamed of the way I've treated you? Should I tell you that I've never been more turned on in my life than when you kissed me? Should I throw myself at your feet and beg you to kiss me like that again? Ha! You make me throw up!" With each malicious sentence, her voice became shriller, louder, harsher; until at last she ran out of words and she stood panting furiously, staring malignantly at me.

Missy had never been that cruel to me before. Her voice was trembling with rage, and there was a harshness in her eyes that tore me apart. Her spiteful words made me shake with sorrowful fury, and I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from crying. God, I hated how she made me feel. But I was not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down, not again, not like two days ago. Without saying another word, I turned to leave.

"Oh, Kevin, wait," Missy called suddenly.

I pivoted expectantly, hopefully.

"I forgot to tell you," she sounded contrite. But it was just an act. "I'm moving to Los Angeles next week. Now you won't be able to follow me around like a lost puppy anymore!" She laughed harshly again. Then she grabbed Larry Watson's full cup of beer and threw it in my face.

My heart filled with a numbness more chilling than the ice cold beer that ran down my face and soaked my shirt. I'll never forget the song that was playing then. It was "Every Rose has its Thorn" by Poison, and they were singing,

"Was it something I said, or something I did, did my words not come out right . . . "

With my heart completely shredded and crushed, I pushed my way through the crowd. All I wanted to do was get away. Though I hadn't had anything to drink, I felt drunk. My brain was sluggish and my legs were weak and unsteady. I heard somebody calling my name, but I didn't stop, at least not until I stepped outside and onto the deserted backyard patio.

The quiet was deafening. The stars were shining brightly, and a full moon lit the patio with a subdued silver light. It was very chilly out, and my soaked t-shirt was icy against my skin. I angrily pulled my shirt off and threw it at a lounge chair, but I missed. I didn't care where it went. I was beyond furious. "How could I be so stupid?" I raged. Ten minutes ago I was worried that I would go crawling back to Missy like a love-starved puppy when I saw her. Well, Missy made damned sure that wasn't going to happen.

The back door opened, and I saw a girl outlined in the doorway. It was Claire. Even though it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light outside, I could easily tell it was Claire. Her shapely figure is hard to mistake, especially with the bright light from behind her making her butter-crème yellow sundress almost completely transparent. Every inch of Claire's luscious curves, her full breasts, her narrow waist, and her well-rounded hips were perfectly silhouetted. My eyes were drawn to the V at the top of her smooth legs. Wow, she had an amazing figure.

She'd changed her hairstyle, and it looked great. Her dirty-blonde hair (isn't that such a naughty sounding hair color?) had been recently styled. It was shoulder length now, and it was coiffed to give it that purposefully mussed up appearance, making her look as if she'd just been royally fucked and she was looking for more.

Claire's complexion has always been exceedingly smooth, and she never wore much make up; she didn't need to. With her broad cheek bones and wide, innocent-looking blue eyes, Claire's face had an irresistible angelic appearance that I had always found appealing.

She smiled timidly and said, "Hi, Kevin."

"What do you want?" My voice had a sharp edge to it that made Claire wince. I didn't mean to sound so angry. But I wasn't even certain I wanted to be talking to Claire. I wasn't certain I wanted to be talking to anyone. My emotions were too raw, and I was still so deeply enraged. Why was Claire here? To gloat? To tell me to get lost? To disgrace me even further? Blackmail?

"I'm sorry. Missy can be such a bitch," Claire said. She walked across the concrete patio to me, and I could tell by her uneven gait and slightly slurred speech that she'd been drinking.

"Don't I know it," I growled. Her sundress had tiny spaghetti straps that left her shoulders bare. She didn't seem to notice the cold. I always said that I'd lust after Claire in an instant if I didn't have Missy. Well, I sure as hell didn't have Missy, and I was definitely beginning to lust after Claire. Why didn't I notice how good she looked before?

Claire, who is six inches shorter than I am, looked up at me and said, "You should forget about Missy." There was something in the lilt of her voice that caught my attention.

"Believe me, I'd love nothing better than to forget about her," I agreed. "But she's not an easy girl to forget."

Claire was standing awfully close to me now. Her baby blue eyes were boring intensely into mine. She smiled sweetly, almost shyly. "I bet I could make you forget about her." She batted her eyelashes and leaned closer.

My heart skipped a beat, and I thought to myself, "Did she really just say that?" When she'd leaned toward me, I noticed that the front of her sundress was hanging quite a ways away from her ample chest. She definitely wasn't wearing a bra. I had an absolutely beautiful view into the deep valley between her magnificent naked breasts.

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly a barren desert.

I felt her hand under my chin, raising my head until I was looking into her smiling face. "I've liked you for a long time, Kevin," Claire admitted shyly. "That's why I followed you out her. I want to show you that there is more to life than Missy O'Bannon."

I was stunned, but I loved her directness. It was such a turn on. Wild thoughts chased each other around my spinning brain, making me dizzy. I had no idea Claire felt this way about me. Well, truthfully, I never looked at anyone other than Missy, so I wouldn't notice if a brick wall fell on me. Is there life without Missy? Dear God, was that possible? Did I want to find out?

Damned right I wanted to find out. Missy had her chance. This was my way to get back at her. I'll show Missy I'm no weakling. I'm not going to curl up into a ball and cry my eyes out. Fuck that! I'm going to live. I'll make Missy regret every hate filled word she said to me, and then she'll find out how bad it hurts.

"Do you really like me?" I stammered blankly. I couldn't think of anything else to say. "Even after you saw what I did in Missy's backyard?"

Claire moved forward until she was pressing her tits firmly against me. The feel of her rock hard nipples on my bare chest sent an electric charge straight to my cock, and it twitched expectantly. "I really like you," Claire stated decisively. "Especially after what you did in Missy's backyard. Oh, God, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

"Really? It was?"

"You have no idea how turned on I got watching you, Kevin. You made me so wet." Her voice had become a throaty whisper, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Please, please, let me show you how much you turn me on."

Claire took my blithering silence for consent, which it was.

Her speed and her strength surprised the hell out of me. Before I knew what was happening, Claire grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me backwards. The backs of my already wobbly knees came up against the edge of a lounge chair and Claire gave me a little shove.

I think I screamed out, "Hey!" or "What the?" or something equally slow-witted. I landed in an ungraceful sprawl on my ass, with my back against the cushions and my feet hanging off the sides of the padded chair, pointing in different directions. Before I could even straighten out my legs, Claire was in my lap, straddling my legs. I caught a quick flash of butter-crème yellow panties where her smooth, shapely thighs met. Her slight weight pinned me to the back of the lounge chair as surely as if I'd been nailed there.

"What are you doing?" I sputtered lamely. I needed time to think. I knew Missy didn't love me, but I still loved her. I would never stop wanting Missy. Oh, but it felt so good to be wanted. Claire's desire made me come alive somehow. For ten years I labored in vain to get Missy to want me like this, but she never did, and maybe she never would. But maybe . . . I quickly pushed all thoughts of Missy out of my head. It was crystal clear: Missy didn't want me, and Claire did. End of story.

Claire leaned in to me until her shiny lips were next to my ear. She spoke in a throaty whisper that sent my brain whirling. "I'm on a mission."

"A-a mission?" I croaked out. I tried to clear my throat, but for some reason, all the fluid in my body had drained down to my quickly inflating cock. I prayed that Claire wouldn't feel it pulsing against her deliciously smooth thigh. "Wh-what kind of mission?"

"I want to show you what love should be like." She paused briefly, then added bashfully, "Please let me love you, Kevin." She sounded so sincere, so needy, so damned sexy.

My brain was stuck in neutral, revving ineffectively. There was no way I could have pushed her away, and I didn't want to try. I was certain of it now.

Claire shifted her head, and then I felt the tip of her wet tongue against the base of my quivering throat, and with agonizingly slow speed, Claire's warm tongue singed a path all the way up my neck to my ear. When she reached my earlobe, she spoke in a lusty whisper again. "Do you like the feel of my tongue?"

"Oh, yes," I replied emphatically. My mind was too far gone to come up with anything more coherent than that. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly to me. The warmth of her body was heavenly against my bare chest.

"Kiss me, honey," Claire breathed seductively in my ear. She trailed a line of kisses from my ear to my mouth, which was suddenly, inexplicably, wonderfully moist again.

Her lips tentatively sought mine. That kiss was so tender, so affectionate. She sighed deeply into my mouth, and my arms responded automatically by crushing her trembling body even harder against mine. My head spun faster, and my senses whirled. She made me crazy with desire.