The Catch-Up Ch. 04

Again, there wasn't room for the long strokes I would have liked to deliver, so I just shoved into Mackenzie as rapidly as I could, jostling her slender body with my rough thrusts, her hands clamping, white-knuckled onto the sink.

Looping an arm around her narrow waist, I continued toying with her clit as best I could, and she squealed through gritted teeth, arching up onto her tiptoes, en pointe in her sneakers, as my hips battered against her ass.

I looked up and into the mirror to watch myself, messy dark hair and skinny-fat torso under a Star Wars t-shirt, slamming into Mackenzie Taylor from behind, her tight, athletic body taut, her perky tits bouncing like crazy along with her braids. Our eyes met in the reflection, her mouth hanging slightly open, manicured brows lifted as if questioning what she was seeing, what she was feeling.

"Unhh, yes, yes, yesss, s-so fucking hard..." Breathless and almost incoherent, her moans fogged up the mirror.

I pumped faster, shoving mercilessly into her, so I could see the look on her face, her eyes half-closing. Her hand came off the sink and reached back to grope for my driving hips, though I wasn't sure if she was trying to hold me back or spur me on.

"You're gonna... I'm g-gonna..." Mackenzie stammered, her voice trailing off as she came undone from my fingers on her clit, my cock plowing her pussy, looking over her shoulder to stare back at me in desperate shock, lips parting in a silent cry.

Mackenzie's orgasm was quick and quivery, legs shaking beneath her, hands clinging to me along with her cunt, grabbing onto my cock so tight I could barely pull it out. I held her up so she didn't fall and with careful, heaving breaths, I managed to stave off my own orgasm—I wasn't done with her yet.

"...Get on your knees," I groaned, finally pulling out of her.

I was treated to the surreal sight of Mackenzie Taylor sliding to her wobbly knees in front of me and opening her mouth, those big, Disney-princess eyes staring up at me.

What happened next was far from G-rated. Putting a hand on the back of her head, I thrust my engorged cock into her open mouth and didn't stop thrusting, pumping my hips to fuck the tight seal of Mackenzie's full lips, plunging my length to the back of her throat.

"Mmph—Guh---" Mackenzie gagged, eyes widening, but her hands went to my thighs and her mouth opened wider, stretching around my girth. While Sadie had eagerly met me stroke for stroke, Mackenzie just knelt there and let me fuck her pretty face, eyes watering, moaning breathlessly when she wasn't choking on my dick.

"Fuck—Take my cock... Swallow it all..." I hissed as quietly as I could, the words sounding alien and a little scary to my own ears. I didn't hate Mackenzie, and I certainly I didn't want to hurt her, but the bored cruelty of her last words to me were ringing in my ears. You're like... nobody to me.

I pulled back to let her catch her breath, and she took a huge, shuddering gasp, sitting there on her knees with her legs spread, her exposed breasts heaving. "God... You're such an asshole..." Mackenzie panted, staring daggers up at me, lips wet and shiny with saliva and pre-cum.

"Makes two of us," I muttered, and she huffed.

"...Yeah? Is this payback for me being a bitch?" Her eyes flicked from my face to my slick, aching cock, bobbing in front of her.

I shrugged, breathing hard. "You wanted this." One a time, I wrapped my fingers around each of her ombre French braids.

Mackenzie's cheeks reddened. "Ugh... Do it, then, loser..." She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

Holding her firmly by the braids, I bobbed Mackenzie's head up and down my length, pounding my thick cock into her mouth. Bracing against my thighs, she swallowed my shaft as smoothly as she could, but she could barely keep up, her muffled gasps and choking sounds joining the wet smacks as she gulped me down.

All the while those big blue-gray eyes stared up at me, blazing with fire, the same that had looked down on me with such revulsion only two days before. The longer I looked down at her obediently taking the rough mouth-fucking, the more erratic and frenzied my thrusts grew.

"Gonna cum—" I warned her, but only a second before my cock throbbed between her lips and fired a jet of cum down her throat. My hips bucked through my orgasm, continuing to pump my cock for what felt like minutes as my shaft pulsed over and over, flooding Mackenzie's wet, sucking mouth with load after load of my hot cum. I stuffed my face into my elbow to keep from groaning too loudly.

Lips tight around my girth, the captain of the pom team swallowed and swallowed until there was no more, hollowing her blushing cheeks and sucking down my seed as my cock grew more and more sensitive. With a final gulp, she sat back, panting, a pink, sweaty mess, hair coming out of her braids in wispy strands.

I staggered back against the sink, feeling utterly weak and drained. Daintily, she reached out a hand and I helped her to her feet.

I knew we were lucky there wasn't a flight attendant or a passenger pounding on the door, but now that we'd almost got away with it, I wasn't in a hurry to stick around and get caught.

"I hope I don't have to tell you again to be discreet..." Mackenzie panted.

I shrugged. "Have a good summer," I repeated from that fateful prom night, slid the latch on the door and left, closing the door behind me.

When I returned to my seat, I felt the gaze of a youngish, brunette flight attendant follow me. A few minutes later, when the door opened again and Mackenzie stepped out, still looking a little disheveled, the stewardess caught my eye and raised an eyebrow.

I swallowed and tried to look innocent, but it probably came out apologetic.

The flight attendant sighed and shook her head in exasperation, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she turned away.

I breathed a sigh of relief, figuring that meant she wouldn't be having us arrested in the airport back home. On flights full of high school graduates returning from Grad Trip, they were probably used to this sort of thing.

But seriously, what the fuck was that all about? I wondered for a moment if Mackenzie had been with the group of girls that had watched Sadie and I have sex. But could that really have triggered something like this?

Tanner, Mackenzie's crush and prom date who had ended up banging one of her friends, had been on Grad Trip as well. He was the reason Mackenzie had slept with me on prom night. Maybe this was still all so she could get over him?

I was more confused than ever, but honestly I didn't really care. Joining the Mile High Club was another unexpected first I'd just checked off my list in incredible fashion.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, enjoying the giddy, warm feeling in my chest and the unforgettable sights, sounds and sensations from the past few days that filled my head.

"AJ!" There was a harsh whisper.

My eyes snapped open. Bridget was awake, and staring at me.

"Did Mackenzie Taylor just come out of the same bathroom as you?"

And just like that, this particular jig was up.

After an intensely whispered conversation that ended with me swearing, complete with Predator Handshake, that I would explain everything to Bridget as soon as we were actually alone, I finally got to spend the rest of the flight home in peace.

The very next day, Bridget was hounding me with text messages, demanding I fulfill my promise. In the afternoon, she drove over to my family's two and a half story house, the half being the attic, which was also my room, now that my brother and sister had moved out.

Up there, sitting on my bed like we had many times before, I explained what had happened between me and Mackenzie. I actually ended up telling Bridget everything, from Reagan and Eva, to prom night, to Sadie, although I did leave out the part about us spying on her and Zara.

It felt really good to unload everything and especially now that Sadie was a part of things, Bridget was the perfect confidant. She listened with a slightly shell-shocked expression and plenty of outrageous reactions, hanging on every word, even as I went bright red while spilling some of the more lewd moments.

"Jesus Christ..." After I was finished, Bridget's mouth hung open, her eyes uncharacteristically wide. "You spend your whole life this sheltered, never-been-kissed virgin and then in what, a month... four girls?

"Four? Well, Eva didn't do anything--" I pointed out.

"She was still down there. Watching. Getting cummed on." She shook her head. "You lucky little fucker. She elbowed me. "...Straight guys really have it all, huh?"

I looked down, adjusting my glasses, but secretly enjoying her reaction. "I mean, you did pretty good, too, didn't you? You and Zara seemed pretty friendly."

"Yeah..." Bridget bit her lip. "We actually hooked up that day."

I threw her a bone and pretended to be just as shocked. "No way! You hooked up with our orientation leader?"

Bridget shrugged, faux-modest. "Yeah, I've got a little game... She came three times, so..."

"Really?" I frowned. Mackenzie and Sadie had only come once each time, although I guess we'd always been pretty rushed. At some point, it would be nice to have sex in a private place with hours to spare. "How did you... get so good at like, eating girls out and stuff?"

Bridget and I had never really talked about sex before, but after spending twenty minutes talking about my sexual exploits, it felt pretty natural.

Bridget seemed happy to enlighten me. "Practice, obviously. But there's stuff online, too. You know, strategy guides. Winning techniques. Just like Streetfighter," She said teasingly.

"Yeah, thanks, I get it... I've looked at some... articles, but—"

Bridget shook her head. "You need videos. And demonstrations. Holy shit, I just had a brilliant idea."

I grimaced. "Oh no..."

"I should teach you. I'll be like your pussy instructor—your Pussy Professor!" Bridget spread her arms wide.

"Shh—My parents are home!" I squinted at her. "You don't think that'll be awkward?"

"No, not at all. It'll be great. You just have to pay me fifty bucks a session." Bridget ran a hand through her tangled hair.

I snorted. "Oh, that seems likely."

Bridget rolled her eyes. "Fine, you scrub. I'll do it if you pay for Wing Night tonight."

Wing Night was one of our oldest traditions, an all you can eat chicken wing extravaganza at a place by Bridget's house. I weighed this. "Okay, deal."

"Awesome, I'm starving—it'll be good practice, anyway." Bridget made a V with her fingers and wiggled her tongue between them.

"Don't be gross--" I threw a sock at her.

I only had a few days back from Grad Trip before I started my first job of the summer, at a famous local place called Daisy Dairy Ice Cream. I'd never had a "real" job before, with the only work experience I had to speak of being babysitting, yardwork, and the other odd jobs I'd picked up during high school. I was a little nervous, but I figured I liked ice cream well enough that I wouldn't mind being around it all day.

I showed up for my first training shift early in the morning and Gary, my manager, gave me the retro red and white striped uniform, bow tie, and hat I had to wear.

"Go ahead and change and Kiera will be ready to start training you. There's a lot to do before we open!" Gary was a red-faced guy with a goatee who already seemed extremely stressed out.

I changed as quickly as I could, lamenting the sight of myself in the mirror in this goofy outfit. When I came out, there was a girl waiting for me, arms crossed. She was short and petite, with a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose, reddish-brown hair pulled back into a bun, and light brown eyes—very pretty, in that natural, girl-next-door sort of way.

The female uniform for Daisy Dairy was similarly candy striped, with the same white apron, but with a matching 50s style skirt, white ankle socks and in her case, white tennis shoes.

"Kiera?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Is your name really Ashley?"

"Um, I go by A.J.," I said automatically. "But... yes."

"That's weird," She said bluntly. "Come on, let's you trained, I guess." She sighed wearily and headed off towards the back of the shop.

"You are... Kiera, right?"

"Yeah, obviously. Hurry up," She said without looking back.

I spent the morning scrambling around the back of the shop as Kiera briskly ordered me around and showed me, at a breakneck pace, everything that had to be done to prepare for a day of selling ice cream, which was a lot more than I'd thought. Tubs had to be scooped, cookies baked from scratch for ice cream sandwiches, supplies stocked, and much more.

I lost count of how many times Kiera looked over my work, raised an eyebrow and said, "You have to do this again," in the dry, blunt tone that I soon learned to dread.

It was a hot summer day and once we opened I got lots of practice in scooping cones, making sundaes and cashing out orders. I felt like I was keeping up pretty well, with Kiera lurking at my elbow, but by the time the afternoon rush was over, I was sweating.

"God, it's hot in here," I said idly, fanning myself.

"It's your first day and you're complaining already?" Kiera raised an eyebrow.

"No—no, no. It's fine, I just—" I said quickly, but she just snorted, lips quirking.

"Relax. You'll get used to it."

I wasn't sure if she meant the heat or her giving me a hard time, but as things slowed down and there was nothing to do but talk to each other, I started to realize that Kiera wasn't really mean, the way I'd feared. She just had a dry, sardonic sense of humour, said whatever was on her mind, and didn't sugarcoat a word of it.

She'd been working at Daisy Dairy every summer for the past four years, I learned, and although Gary wouldn't make her an Assistant Manager, she practically ran the place when he wasn't around. She was a year older than me, having graduated last year from St. Michael's, a Catholic high school in town.

"You went to Hartford?" She asked as we sipped the milkshakes we'd helped ourselves to. I nodded. "Do you know the dance girls? Like... who would have been a Senior this year... Mackenzie, Faith, Gigi?"

I nodded again, trying to keep a straight face as I sucked on my straw. "How do you..."

"Dance studios, dance competitions." She waved her hand a little idly. "...Always thought Hartford had kind of a bitchy squad, honestly."

I snorted. "...They're not so bad."

Kiera giggled, a surprisingly girly sound. "Seriously? Kid like you, I bet they ripped you apart. If they knew you existed at all."

"Kid like me?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows.

"You know. Like a little nerd boy," Kiera said matter-of-factly, straw between her teeth. When I looked away, laughing, there was that little quirk of her lips that was her version of a smile.

"You'd be surprised, actually." I stood up from the booth we were sitting in, grabbing our empty cups, and changing the subject. "Do you drink one of these every shift? How do you not get fat?"

"Don't worry, I'm gonna purge all of this later," she deadpanned, sliding out of the booth and putting her hat back on, the words clashing hard with the innocent, retro uniform.

I shook my head, grinning, as I rinsed out the cups. "Bulimia joke. Classy."

"Bite me, Ashley," Kiera threw over her shoulder on her way to the back.

I glanced over and watched Kiera disappear around the door frame, my eyes lingering on her toned calves and slim ankles, about all the bare skin I could see. From what little I could gauge of her figure in that modest uniform, I wasn't surprised to learn that she was a dancer, too.

I looked away, trying to refocus on the task at hand. When did I become so girl crazy? As soon you actually started getting any. A voice in my head remarked.

At Daisy Dairy, it wasn't just Kiera I had to worry about. Now that summer was in full swing, almost every shift meant more cute girls coming by for a cone: new high school seniors, grads, and college-aged coeds, giggling in pairs and groups, smiling at me or just as often ignoring me entirely. There were also plenty of hot, young moms coming from yoga class and beautiful, well-dressed professionals on their lunch break. It sometimes made it very hard to do my job.

But it certainly made me look forward to my weekly sessions with Bridget. "P-School", as she called it, was one afternoon a week and typically consisted of the two of us going up to my room in the attic, goofing around for an hour or so by playing Pokemon Stadium or Streetfighter on my little TV, and then eventually getting down to the "lesson."

If I was being honest, Bridget did put effort into teaching me something. The first few weeks, she pulled up labelled photographs and diagrams of the female anatomy, and went through general techniques, truths, and myths in a fairly haphazard, but informative fashion with a lot of dumb jokes and snickering from both of us.

One day, Bridget brought out her laptop and announced that we were watching "tape", which as I soon found out, meant porn.

"Most porn sucks for female pleasure, obviously," Bridget said as she opened several videos, apparently from her personal collection. "But there are some gems out there."

"And you've found them all?" I snorted.

"Only after extensive research," Bridget smirked.

"We're not actually gonna watch these, are we?" I frowned, hurriedly looking away from the opening still of the first one.

"Yeah, duh, why do you think I'm opening them?"

"It's porn!"

"It's essential viewing for your education! Do you want to learn or not?" Bridget cocked her head, expectantly.

I put my head in my hands. "....Yes."

"Okay then, no more bitching. This is for your own good." She hit play on the first video.

On cushions a solid four feet apart, up against the foot of my bed, where we usually played video games, Bridget and I watched porn.

It was all girl-on-girl stuff, naturally, and I had to hand it to Bridget—it was the cream of the crop. The videos were completely explicit and uncomfortably hot, with plenty of soft, naked skin on skin, fingers slipping slippery inside one another, tongues entwining. And of course, a whole lot of pussy-eating.

At first, Bridget gave a running commentary, pointing out techniques, tricks, and the reactions of the women, but eventually she went quiet, and we both just stared.

Bridget and I watched with silent, rapt attention as the redhead on screen, who unfortunately, reminded me of Kiera, lay naked on a massage table as the tall, blonde masseuse bent to lap at her clit, smearing wetness on her chin.

I had never in my life watched porn with someone else before, and I'd never thought it would be with Bridget. We were super comfortable with each other, of course, had slept in the same bed and even wrestled as kids, especially after we both saw Fight Club for the first time in Grade 5. But before our conversation the day after Grad Trip, sex had never really been a topic of discussion.

Now, there was no doubt that things had changed. We'd heard all about each other's sexual lives and of course, I'd actually seen Bridget's in action, although she still didn't know that. We were grown up, at least in theory, and even though Bridget was gay, we were still an 18-year-old girl and an 18-year-old boy watching porn together.

I tried to take mental note of the techniques the blonde was demonstrating that were making the redhead moan and cry out, but my attention was also drawn by Bridget's breath in and out through her nose, and the way her legs shifted beneath her. Was this turning her on?

She wasn't the only one. Thanks to the sounds coming from the laptop speakers and the sight of the blonde's face buried between the redhead's slick folds, her tongue pushing inside her, I was dealing with a bit of a situation. I knew it would be even more noticeable if I adjusted myself, but my hard-on was pressing uncomfortably against my jeans.