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You Don\'t Meet Nice Girls in Coffee Shops	By : megadeth425 Category: Pokemon > General Views: 3465 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
The four of us woke up at roughly the same time in the queen-sized bed of N and White's room. My fingers were still entwined in White's hair and from our position, I assumed we both kind of fell asleep mid-coitus. She lay atop me, so maybe it was better to say that I had fallen asleep and she kept going until she was satisfied, then passed out. The last thing I remembered was being on top, so that certainly fit. Beside us, Bianca and N had snuggled in their sleep.
There were two showers between the rooms, and I declined Bianca's offer for another joint shower, not really feeling like sex at the moment. When N pointed out how large the shower in his room was, though, Bianca decided to join the couple, leaving me with my room's shower. There was no hurry, but I went quick nonetheless. The bathroom had one of those frilly, girly loofah things that never ran out of suds, so I went right at lathering up. Sweat and cum of both sexes washed away, and it felt refreshing when I rubbed the shampoo vigorously into my hair. My whole body kind of ached from the craziness of last night; admittedly, I was happy to see N too. We had gone long enough that we only woke up mid afternoon, and my ass probably had it the worst, though. My shoulder came next, where he had bitten me like a rabid fucking animal. Then my knee, where Bianca had kicked me on pure reflex when she came to N eating her out.
Point is, it had been rather rough, but I was happy with the night, all told. It was the sort of night that only happens every so often, when it's been so long since something happened that it was extra special. N's return was that kind of special.
I liked sex. It wasn't something I particularly made a secret of. It may have sounded cynical when I said we were just nerves firing off electric impulses, but I was no nihilist. I loved life, loved feeling and experiencing things, even if I was more reserved about some things than my friends were. Sex, though? Passion, a dizzying array of physical sensations, and a chemical release that left me a little high? There was nothing better. I was probably a little more degenerate about it than a guy my age should, sleeping around and such, but N's return was wonderful for me. The thought of a pool of lovers of mixed gender seemed the pinnacle of the experience as things constantly shuffled about. We all took turns with each other last night, and it was intense.
Towelling off my hair, I stepped out of the bathroom and found nobody around. Now that I was out of the shower and its ambient noise, I could hear my three friends loudly over their own shower. There was an urge to make some comment about how none of them could keep quiet, but I doubted I was always able to reign myself in. I was probably just as loud when I wanted to, and when I was deep in White, I could easily imagine I woke the neighbouring room's occupants.
When my hair was totally dry--I could always tell because my untamable locks of idiot hair stood upright then--I dressed and headed out to that cafe I saw. It wasn't anyone else's thing, but I really liked the atmosphere of small coffee shops. This one looked about right; dimly lit, modern, smelling richly of coffee and reeking of pretension. All told, my kind of place. I stepped in, took a deep breath, and then made my order. It took a couple minutes to get my coffee, and just as I turned to look for a seat, a familiar face waved me over.
Shauntal was one of the Elite Four members back home. Her purple hair fell to her jawline where it was neatly kept, and a purple fringe that covered the top rim of her round glasses. She wore a purple dress, purple tights, and black gloves. She had ditched the usual collar thing I never knew what to call, which was entirely for the better. She had some nice curves to her, though she was more on the lean side of things. As usual, she had a pen in one hand--the hand she waved at me with--and a spiral notepad in the other. She was a writer, with some published stories and plenty of unpublished porn. She had a gift, and was actually pretty cool, once you got past her strange obsessions with romance and who was having sex with whom.
In the seat next to her sat the only man to ever look more smug than I did, and with no effort at all. The first thing I noticed were his eyes, a piercing blue that seemed to almost glow in the dim light of the cafe. Only then did I notice his sharp face and very carefully-treated, slick blue hair, with locks in front and wing-type things in back, like Glenn Danzig after a rain storm. He wore a strange suit that certainly couldn't be called formal, but too expensive to call casual. Blue and white, it fit him loosely. There was an air to him of riches and aristocracy, even if he was far poorer than he let on, in some varying level of fortune depending on how well his luck went at the casino.
Sitting across from the couple, though, was the most striking of all. I had never seen her before in my life, and that was a damn shame. There was a certain beauty to her I couldn't place. With her black clothes and pallid skin, she looked like a porcelain doll. Paler than anyone had a healthy reason to be, it made her blue eyes even more striking. Her black hair was parted off to the side, the left side adorned with a white bow. Her dress was black with white trim and buttons, elegant and clearly very precise. She had black arm things on that would have been forearm-high gloves had they not stopped right at her wrists. There was a certain blandness to her expression, though; her face seemed rigid, lips curled into a smile so vague it was likely just their natural shape. Being the 17 year-old boy I was, I also took a quick look at her chest. It was damn-near flat, only the vaguest traces of breasts present.
I scampered over to the table, pulling up a seat and trying my best to look nonchalant and keep my gaze at the two Elite Four members. "What are you two doing here?"
"Hello to you too," Grimsley muttered. His voice had traces of an implacable accent over something smooth and suave. It was a little uncomfortable just how soothing his voice could be, and sometimes it made me wonder if all those stories about him being a vampire were true.
Shauntal rolled her eyes. "We flew in with Caitlin. She used to be a Frontier Brain and wanted to visit her old butler, the current Brain. The off-season is so dull that we jumped at the chance to take a trip." She sipped at her coffee. "I do love cafes like this. Minimal lighting, ambient noise of people speaking over low, subtle music. All of the aromas blend together into what would have to be the best coffee ever conceived by how well the smells intermingle and--"
"You're doing it again," the girl cut in. Her voice was completely monotone, to an almost uncomfortable point; robotic, even. It was stated matter-of-factly, not irritated. just pointed out. Her expression was rigid, lacking any emotion or feeling to it. Her head turned to me, and it was all sorts of unsettling. Those blue eyes stared at me rigidly, unyielding and completely unemotive. Her attractiveness was undeniable, but it lay in spite of such a frighteningly emotionless visage. "Hello. I'm Marley."
"I'm Cheren," I said, unsure exactly what to say and too weirded out by how completely still she was. Normal people moved a little when they spoke. Hell, even abnormal people showed some signs of life.
"Nice to meet you." She turned back to face the Elites with a stiff motion of her waist. "An old challenger?"
Grimsley nodded. "And an acquaintance. We've enjoyed his company since then, and it's always been rather entertaining." He drew out the last syllable on 'rather' enough to send a shiver along my spine. He was harmless and more eccentric than creepy, but damn, if it wasn't the most awkward table I'd sat at in a while, what with the eerie girl and Dracula's poorer brother. It took a lot of effort to make Shauntal, an amateur writer of real person smut, the sanest.
"I do parties as a professional clown," I said; when in doubt, sarcasm. "It was a little strange they'd need my services for dinner dates, but a paycheck is a paycheck."
"A clown, you say? Interesting."
"Yeah, a clown. And you know what they say about men with big feet, right?"
"That they're wearing fake shoes for comedic effect."
Her response just killed all my momentum and witty banter. Did she even know I was joking about the clown thing? With such little in the way of expression, maybe she couldn't understand jokes. Or sarcasm. Autism, maybe? At any rate, it didn't make me any more comfortable about being around her. Grimsley and Shauntal's continued silence didn’t help either.
"Sorry," she said, not sounding at all like she was. "Sometimes people can't tell when I'm joking because it sounds like everything else I say, and I have a bit of a strange sense of humour. No, what do they say about men with big feet?"
Was this a joke? My eyes darted over to the Elites, but they didn't seem to be smiling, and I knew firsthand how terrible Shauntal was at hiding what she was thinking. That was the more worrisome bit for me. If she was red in the face, at least I'd know I was being fucked with. The idea that Marley was serious frightened me, because I had no idea how to react to this all.
"You're scaring him," Shauntal chuckled, and a bit of colour filled into her face. "Sorry, Cheren. She takes some getting used to, as does her sense of humour, but she's really a great gal."
I took a sip of coffee and tried to penetrate the awkwardness around the table. "It's okay. My humour is sometimes lost on my friends, so I guess it's only fair it happens to me one day."
"Hopefully, we'll get to know each other a bit better and we can exchange banter some time."
A sudden, subtle sound forced its way out of Shauntal's mouth then, and the spidery fingers holding her pen twitched a little. I had no idea what was written in the notepad when she put it down on the table and started writing something; it was all illegible scrawling no human being of any level of sanity could decode. Her eyes darted between Marley and I as she wrote, and suddenly I grew very worried as to what she was writing. I pretended not to notice, though.
"I hope so." The awkward air subsided greatly after that, and the conversation became more fluid, mostly because introductions were over and the other two talked more. I had some time to enjoy my coffee when Grimsley told us a story about the time he replaced all of Marshal's weights with fakes. It was a great blend, and immediately I knew where I would spend my off-time when I needed to get away from my friends. There's a certain volume level that qualifies as "quiet time", somewhere around the general ambient noise of a coffee shop. Bianca's been known to go over that volume limit while sleeping. As much as I loved them, sometimes there was just a need for space.
After a while, Grimsley's company became rather soothing as his voice became more familiar, the smoothness lulling me into a nice, comfortable state. "So by now, he's shouting that he's stronger than any of his Pokemon, and demands Conkeldurr let him lift the stone slabs. Everyone gathered to watch, because the fool wasn't listening to anyone; he's rather fun that way. He goes to pick up the slab with one hand, and this is where I disclaim all responsibility. Shauntal, dear, could you finish this for me?"
The purple-haired trainer nodded. "Through some divine fuck-up, the floor was wet or something. When he goes to pick it up, it slides a little, balance skews, and the whole thing comes down on him. Conkeldurr just managed to grab it in time, but--"
"He got rocked."
My head snapped to face Marley, whose own head turned slowly toward me. We cut Shauntal off at the same time with the same punch line. Sure, it was a lame pun that took less originality to make than my coffee, but it was a brief moment of synchronicity I rarely experienced. I guessed, for the purpose of thinking she was actually human, that she was just as surprised by it; her actual expression was just as stoic as it had been the whole time I sat there.
"I don't usually have that happen," she stated, and took a sip of her drink. "Strange feeling. Perhaps it is you who is destined to bring balance to the force."
I looked blankly at her. "Oh, Arceus, you went there." I paused to take a sip of my own drink. "I approve."
Shauntal made another one of those strange sounds I had grown to ignore as Marley spoke. "As if I needed your approval."
"Well, I am the chosen one. Might be a good idea to get into my good graces."
Shauntal chuckled a little, Grimsley rolled his eyes, and Marley stayed rigid. It was becoming the sort of thing that didn't really need saying. Nights were dark. Pidove always had the cleverness to empty their bowels where it would cause the greatest inconvenience. Marley didn't react. A pattern began to emerge, much to my utter non-surprise.
"I think I'll take my chances." She turned her head to Grimsley. "It's four. We were going to practice at five, and the area I had in mind is a long walk away. We had best start heading out." Back to me her head moved, and I noted it was eerily like a doll's head in its motion. "I hope we run into each other again."
And then she left. No handshake, no goodbye, she just got up, with Grimsley shrugging and following, and left.
"Strange girl," I said to Shauntal, my body sort of easing up as the table became mine.
"She grows on you. So, I'm not going training, but I have some things to do. Why don't you swing by a little after dark, and we can 'catch up'?"
I smirked, nodding my head in agreement. I hadn't seen Shauntal in a while, and 'reminiscing' would do me some good. Staying behind, I finished off my coffee and did some thinking. That Marley girl was something. I still hadn't figured out what kind of something, Eccentric, eerily attractive, sarcastic, completely unemotive and deadpan. Sounded like my kind of girl. Of course, I didn't really have a 'kind', but there was certainly a difference between her and someone like White. White was a friend, and the kind of girl that I indulged in wild monkey sex with to our mutual satisfaction. Marley, I would at least entertain the prospect of dinner or a movie to serve as an entree to wild monkey sex.
A friend once told me that girls like that were into some weird things, and as I got up and threw out my empty coffee cup, brief flashes of some rather kinky images made me yearn for some quality time with my friends. I ordered another for the road and set back to the room, becoming more and more intrigued by just what depravities Marley was probably into. It interested me, and the mental image of the girl naked was nice. I imagined her body just as pale as her face, with very little in the way of curves but possessing a certain appeal as such a lithe form squirmed and writhed, tied to a bedpost--ff she was into weird stuff, she'd be into bondage.
So enraptured I was in thinking about it that when I opened the door and stepped in, White and N undressing on my bed really didn't startle me for a second. I took a sip, said hi, and then as I started to turn, my body snapped back toward them. "You guys were naked when I left."
"We got dressed a few minutes ago," White said as N pecked at her neck and she tried to kick the air in attempt to get the short denim shorts off her ankle. "It makes for good foreplay to undress."
I sighed. "Bianca went out?"
"We overheard someone in the hall saying there were wild Eevee in the woods, and she stormed out."
N pulled his head from her neck. "Do you want to join us?"
After twenty minutes with my own thoughts and the image of the Gothic lolita girl tied to my bed, I couldn't really say no. "Sure, but I think I'll undress myself first."
"Your loss," White moaned as N ran his hands along her body while pulling away.
Whatever may have gone on between N and I, it wasn't really explored where threesomes were concerned. White was a very demanding girl, full of energy and passion, and she wanted to be the centre of attention and affection. N and I had been in the middle a few times, but the prospect of two men to please her was too much for White to let slip through her fingers. N was hopelessly devoted to her, and when she got dominant, would listen to her unconditionally. As for me, I think it's pretty clear what stronger wills can do to me.
White got down on her knees, N and I standing on opposite sides of her. After long enough, you begin to fall into certain routines, and with these two, it always started the same way. As her hand grasped me and her head leaned in to lick my shaft, I wondered if her demand to be the focal point was a conscious one. Maybe it was because she was always the middle factor, the ego of our trio. She balanced out Bianca and I, and in different ways, N and I. She was used to being in the middle, what connected the two other parts and made us a cohesive whole.
On the other hand, she may have just liked two guys devoting all of their attention to her at the same time. My money was on that one.
Her mouth moved a couple times along my entirety, her lips pressing against my base before pulling away, leaving it slick with a thin sheen of saliva as she turned to do the same to N. Her hand grasped me, and worked me with the same slow motion her mouth had, previously. I leaned my head over a little to watch her head move back and forth along N's penis, her brown ponytail jerking back and forth as she did. I couldn't really complain about the usual start; having something to watch made a hand job much better, especially when her head moved back to face me.
After she got us slicked up, she alternated between us, sometimes every few seconds, sometimes taking longer with us, hands sliding along our bases all the while. I remembered as a kid, how she was one of those classy girls who learned how to do strange things with their tongue like crumpling it up, or spending an afternoon trying to lick her nose. That very tongue, years later, did unspeakable things to me as her bright blue eyes looked up at me with a mix of joy and hunger. My hips jerked a little after a solid twenty seconds of eye contact, and my body slouched a little. My hand reached into her hair, but just as I felt her soft brown locks, she moved away to do the same for N.
N looked like he was enjoying things, muttering soft words to her that seemed almost out of place during such a filthy act. His dirty talk wasn't too strong, since it was rarely dirty when the situation called for it, so it was best when his mouth was occupied. I'd have reached over to shut him up and keep his romance out of such an inappropriate time if I didn't know even my hand on his shoulder would make White aggressive--and not necessarily in the good way.
As I enjoyed the hand sliding along my spit-soaked cock and the words of the man child slowly subsided, my mind started to drift back to Marley. Dammit, she was still on my mind. I just couldn't help it. There was so much about her that just mystified me, some strange allure to everything I'd seen of her. What was her story? I knew from experience that people didn't become sardonic because it seemed like fun. What sad tale robbed her of expression and pitch? How did she look naked? Surprisingly, the latter seemed the last pertinent amidst all of the questions about Marley the person. I wanted to know everything about her, hear what tales could be spun of her experiences and--
Oh, hell. I was thinking like Shauntal.
"Cheren!" White said, jolting me from my thoughts. She stared up at me with a dry look. "You're philosophizing during sex again."
"It's nothing to do with you," I reassured. "You're great. My mind just wanders when I don't have much to do."
She groaned, getting up off her knees. "Right. We're changing position. Lie on the bed." Even if I hadn't been willing to, she pushed me as she spoke, sending me in the bed's direction. I bounced against the divinely comfortable bed and rolled a little so I was on my back and in the rough centre of it. It was only a second, at the most, before White's body pressed against mine. The girl's patience was gone, it seemed, because I was inside of her by the time her lips met mine. N's weight followed soon after, lying atop his girlfriend. She hissed into my mouth as N's slipped into her back door.
For all she may have understood the idea behind finesse and taking it slow, her kisses during sex were never soft. All of Bianca's kisses were soft, but White's was possessive and fierce. Her teeth lightly grazed my lower lip, and dammit, I had enough of teeth from the still-lingering bite marks on my neck. Her moans filled my mouth just as much as her tongue did, and there was definitely a part of me that felt better for having her there.
My hands found their way to her hip and her leg, feeling the smooth flesh as she topped both of us from the middle. Her inner walls held me tightly, and the slight tremble in her body from N and I's combined, vaguely synchronized thrusts, felt wonderful against me. Her lean frame was wonderful to feel; everything so lithe and taut, her strong legs getting tangled up in the other four. It pulled us closer together, her warm frame trembling a little more.
N's hands were on her arm and her other hip as he met my motions as best he could in her rear. She moaned and writhed as we double-teamed her, occasionally barking at us to go faster. His lips were at her shoulder, and I wondered if he'd bite her when he came, too. I sure hoped so, mostly because our kiss hadn't changed much and some part of me wanted to taste blood from her biting my lip too hard. Sometimes, I wondered whether my sexual interests were too healthy, but if I broke eye contact with White she'd think I was philosophizing again, and I didn't feel like bringing that whole harangue on. There'd be plenty of time once we were done for that.
"Yes," she howled into my mouth, her body tightening in such a way that she couldn't have been much farther. Her hands were on my sides, and her grasp hardened a little. Her orgasms were rarely understated, and when double penetration was involved, it was quite the sight to be seen. It bordered on theatrical at times, but damn if the ride wasn't intense. N's hands seized her breasts from behind, kneading the flesh as his knuckles accidentally poked at my upper abdomen. It wasn't the most comfortable feeling, but the tight, velvety vagina wrapped around my dick, the thin layer of sweat on my brow, and the panting, frantic girl bound to make my lip bleed any second now all made those issues seem secondary.
The door slammed against the wall, and Bianca shouted like she had just won the lottery, "Guys, I caught an Eevee!" Had she come in a minute earlier, it would have killed the mood, but we were so close that we just ignored her. She got the message and closed the door behind her, sitting cross-legged on the bed and watching.
N came first. White's motions had been partly dictated by N's, and he suddenly became rigid, ending all of that as he loosed his warm seed into her ass. That set White off next, her thighs squeezing against my hips, sending me spiralling into orgasm with her. She wasn't rigid at all, writhing and breathing heavily as her teeth predictably drew a flood of warm, metallic taste into my mouth as her body tightened against me and a single, almost meek "yes" escaped her throat. I thrust against her as my hands held the back of her thighs, pulling her as close against me as we could, shooting my load when I was buried to the hilt in her. My hips jerked a little as I came down from the high and her tongue remained in my mouth, no doubt because of the blood. The look in her eye told me she was far from done, and Bianca's presence only sealed matters.
She wasn't letting us go anywhere.

...............................................................................

Another shower was necessary after I pulled myself away from the foursome. White had been less domineering with Bianca around, since she was no longer the only girl, and it was a lot more frenzied as everything changed so frequently. It wasn't that I was out of energy or anything; far from it. I just felt like going up to see Shauntal, partly to catch up, partly because it was likely to devolve into sex anyway.
And as much as I hated to admit it, mostly because I hoped Marley would be there, back from her training with Grimsley.
In many ways, I found a kindred soul in Shauntal. I clicked with her in ways I didn't with my other friends--White was never the type to sit down long enough to read books, and Bianca's reading level wasn't appropriate for her age, let alone near mine. The month I spent with her, though, gave me access to a library I only wished I could afford. Certain interests and quirks that matched me well. Then there was her boyfriend Grimsley, who could match me in being an insufferable genius. Sometimes, friendship was just about finding people who your neuroses were compatible with, and the two elites were definitely compatible.
There was probably a good sex joke in there
The door to Shauntal's room was open, and on her word from practically living out of her library for a whole week, let myself in. "Shauntal?" I called as I walked into the room and found it empty. A twin bed looked messy and unmade, pillows and blankets bunched up in such a way that it formed a sort of chair back to lean against, probably so she could write. The other was a queen, large and a bit cleaner, though the obvious signs of what in polite society was called a rough sleep and in everywhere else 'sex' were all over the bed. Luggage bags lay in the corner, and the room overall looked like it was in a constant war of cleanliness, as Shauntal neglected her surroundings when she got caught up in her writing and Grimsley cleaned up reluctantly after her.
There seemed to be no sign of either room occupant. The bathroom door was wide open and the light was off.
On a normal day, I'd have found an empty hotel room with the door open odd, but not where Shauntal was concerned. Wandering off and forgetting about that sort of thing was very much her style. She'd come back at some point, so I merely sat on the unkempt bed and decided to wait for her. There was, predictably, a throwaway notebook and a pen beside me, the same one from the coffee shop. I just had to indulge my curiosity, flipping it open to the first page.
My jaw dropped instantly.
The words screamed out at me, “Cheren and Marley, 30 kisses prompts. I am going to regret this in the morning, aren't I? Doesn't matter; too fluffy to care. New OTP?” It was gibberish to me, but I understood the gist of it, reading on with horror.
1. Look over here
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The slow, rhythmic feeling of Marley's foot on his kept jarring Cheren, keeping him from thinking straight. Bianca had said something that left her wide-open for one of his wonderful remarks, and the thought struck his mind that would have made for one of his best snarks ever. He lost it, though, as Marley tapped her foot on his yet again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"What is it?" he groaned, turning around to face his girlfriend, none too happy his golden remark was lost in a sea of distraction. When he faced her, though, he found her charcoal lips pressed to his, curved into the closest they came to a smile as she stole a kiss from him. And suddenly, she was forgiven.
2. News; letter
Stupid prompt idea, I'll do this later.
3. Jolt!
His hands brushed her arms, and fingers snaked under the black gloves that extended to her forearms. In response, her shoulders jerked away a little from the surge of his touch on her skin, a place nothing had brushed against in ages.
“I guess my touch is electric,” he smirked, pushing down the glove to reveal more of her alabaster flesh to his fingertips. Her nerves fired off hundreds of jolts in rapid succession.
“Stick to sarcasm,” she stated dully, and she'd have rolled her eyes if she did that sort of thing. “Your mouth is good for two things, and jokes aren't one of them.”
“Well, you're not giving me anything to remark on,” he said, peeling the gloves off of her. “So what do you want my mouth to do?”
As he spoke, his lips met hers and she just melted.
4. Our distance and that person
No idea what to do for this. Alder jokes, maybe? If Cheren finds this book, he's going to be so mad.
5. "Hey, you know..."
“Hey, you know that thing you do with your hands when you get shy?”
She regarded Cheren thoughtfully.
“What do you mean?”
“Whenever you're embarrassed, you clasp your hands together and move them around, like a little girl. It's one of the few times you ever act like a person with feelings.”
“What about it?”
He pulled away from their embrace. “Can you do it for me? It's adorable.”
“You want me to be a little girl?”
“What? No, I--”
“Alder really did a number on you, didn't he?”
His eyes widened at the mention of Alder, and his attempts at self-defence crumbled into sputtering random syllables before managing, “I'll be quiet.”
6. The space between dream and reality
The groggy haze Cheren endured every morning always brought with it one physical aspect that he always rather disliked. He would come out of ever dream with morning wood, and usually it was a curse unless someone woke him up for sex. It was a surprise, then, when his alarm went off that morning, and he found Marley shuffling down the bed.
"What are you doing?" he asked, still a little confused.
"Logging," she murmured.
With a groan, he sat up. "You need to work on your jokes. That's supposed to be sexy? Puns are such--" His body snapped back to his former, prone position as her lips wrapped around his penis. "I take it back! Make all the puns you want."
7. Superstar
Much to my utter lack of surprise, Shauntal got derailed, and what followed was a two-page rant about how much she didn't like The Carpenters. I have the most mentally-balanced friends.
8. Our own world
Neither of them seemed too cheerful to anyone, and certainly not optimistic. Bitterness and dry wit convinced everyone that their nights in were spent reading books and insulting each other over the most minute of flaws, for fun. But there, cuddled up on the couch, beneath a soft blanket, they watched animated Disney movies with childish glee. In their own world, they could take solace in their shared, guilty pleasure while keeping up appearances around everyone else.
How terrible it would have been for everyone to know what they were doing. Or, worse, that they sang along, especially on the duets. "A Whole New World" was a personal favourite, and they couldn't forgive themselves.
Colour filled into my face as embarrassment and fury and some deep, giddy joy surged in me all at once. She skipped through the next bunch, the only other entry being at the end of the book.
28. Wada Calcium CD3 (Seriously, what the hell?)
"What is this?" Marley asked, pulling her lips from Cheren's. He had put on some music, and it was strange, to say the least.
"Wada Calcium, disc three. It's a five-disc minimalist folk-jazz concept album by The Tragically Hypno."
"Who?"
"Oh, you've never heard of them, they're pretty obscure. Maybe you've listened to Luxraydiohead?" She responded with a shake of her head. "Cheap Trick Room? Clamperl Jam? Stone Edge Temple Pilots?"
Marley sighed. "I haven't heard of any of those."
"You're too mainstream."
"Hipster." Cheren laughed a little and moved back in for a kiss. Marley stayed with it for a minute before breaking away. "Seriously though, your music sucks."
The book dropped from my hands as they pressed themselves firmly to my forehead. I knew she wrote about real people, be it in vague, change-a-letter-in-the-name terms, or explicitly, but it never occurred to me that she'd write about me. Especially in such context. Such terrible, terrible context. It preyed on my already confused mental state and did no favours in helping me get over it. Such timing was almost bordering on plot convenience.
“You weren't supposed to read that!” The purple-haired writer shuffled into the room with wide eyes. “How much did you--”
“All of it so far,” I groaned, not peeling my hand from my face, though adjusting the fingers so they didn't smudge up my glasses any more. “I'm speechless. And a bit disturbed.”
That made her laugh a little, though her quick motion to pull the book out of my hands showed her worry. “Inspiration isn't something you question. I'm a writer, and sometimes I'm compelled when I see something to act on it. You and Marley hit a dynamic that I've been wanting to write forever.”
My stare was one of judgement, questioning, and defeat all in one. “I need new friends.”
“Oh, come on. I saw how you looked at her, don't pretend I didn't drill a hole right into your psyche.” As she spoke, she drew nearer to me, grabbing at my collar. “Now come on, you didn't come up here to read my notebooks. Put this out of your mind.” She climbed into my lap and ran her hands along my forearms. “I've missed having a boytoy. Grimsley is always so dominant, but with you, I can be on top all I want.”
Every masculine instinct in me told me to grab her shoulders, take her for a roll so that I lay atop her, and assert my dominance by pounding her into loving madness. As far as they were concerned, the only acceptable course of action was to fuck her hard, until her eyes rolled up and she couldn't take it anymore.
Instead, I kissed at her shoulder as she pulled my jacket off. Far be it from me to take control of such things.
Her ribbon collar thing unclapsed beneath my fingers easily, falling off of her shoulders as she pulled her dress up, revealing the strategic hole torn in her tights.
“Classy,” I said as my pants and boxers followed in one quick motion.
She chuckled a little, grasping my half-hard cock and stroking it lightly as she pushed me onto my back. “Is what we do ever classy?” Her body descended on me, hand still on my shaft as her knees pressed into the bed on either side of me.
Instead of answering, I merely grabbed at her ass cheeks and pulled her pelvis down, my tongue hungrily meeting her slit at the end of its downward motion. It wasn't that assertive a motion, but it was something to make me feel less useless. I probed a little deeper, the heavy taste of her moist slit making its presence very known the moment my tongue passed her labia. Writing had certainly got her ready, and she was probably gearing up to write some proper smut after she was done whatever she had wandered out for--I guessed I'd never find out what that was.
While I was very quick to get into things, having been surrounded by sex with few breaks since arriving on the island, Shauntal was slower and more methodical. Her tongue made long motions up and down in contrast to my frantic tonguing, and her hand worked the base patiently. Even as I drove her to something harder, having already felt my share of build-up, she took it slow and refused to yield to my pacing attempts.
It didn't help the whole 'masculinity' deal any, though that was pretty facetious at that point. The only person I ever had a chance of topping was Bianca, leaving every other encounter a completely submissive affair. White, N, Shauntal, Ald--certain exes--all took me and did whatever they wanted. To be fair, though, as much as it seemed like a complaint, I complained about everything. I truly did enjoy it.
“There was little the writer could have done to resist the boy's advances,” she breathlessly muttered to herself between licks. “To be worshipped by his tongue, to feel his body writhing beneath her as all of her experience brought him to unseen lengths, was the greatest feeling in the world in her eyes. He deserved the reciprocation, deserved to feel her experience. It had become a right, something she couldn't in good mind keep from him. Who could be rightfully deprived of such pleasures?”
The snarky 'I need new friends' thought came back as I heard her lapse into her habit of composing stories during sex. It had varying levels of sexy depending on the context, but hell if a blow job was not the time for it. Still, I knew better than to shake her from her trance and just let her go. To hear her desperately pant the words with so much arousal in every syllable was at least a bit of a turn-on. Her hand was undisturbed by her words, and there was now enough saliva all over my penis to make the very tight hold pleasurable enough.
Instead, I tried to refocus my attention on her. A few of my fingers slipped into her, feeling around the sopping wet pussy as my lips tended to her thighs and clitoris. The other hand slipped beneath her tights, feeling the soft, smooth flesh of her moderately plump ass as my fingers prepared themselves. Each breath brought in a heavy pull of her smell, of her dripping sex and all the desperation in the world.
Everyone I knew had a different reason for having careless, casual sex. White loved the attention and affection, N had a warped view of human interaction and saw it as some kind of bonding, in addition to finding a genuine connection that he lacked growing up. Bianca just liked the feeling and fell in line with the rest of us. For Shauntal, though, I was completely unsure if she was a nymphomaniac using her stories as vicarious release, someone who took an artistic turn in the 'wrong' direction, or just someone who really liked sex. All of them seemed equally valid, but the realization that I was once again philosophizing with my tongue against a woman and derailed the train of thought immediately.
On the bright side, I found the best way to force Shauntal into a pace change. My fingers were now slick with her juices, and as they ran along her rear, her body bucked a little in knowing anticipation. As the first finger breached her ass, her story composition died immediately, silenced by the sudden presence of more than half my cock in her mouth. Her fingertips pressed into my thigh so hard that I could feel the nails, and my head spun with wild joy. My intense tongue work went rewarded at last, her mouth and lips and tongue and neck all picking up the slack, the hand around my base moving faster to match her oral treatment.
Something must have snapped in her head and she realized what I was doing, because with a sudden motion, she stopped. Saliva trails connected my penis to her lips as she pulled away from me, taking her sweet, nectar-soaked pussy with her. My fingers withdrew reluctantly as I lay there unsatisfied and disappointed.
“Crafty,” she purred, turning her body around so that she lay atop me, pressing my penis up between our bodies and moving just slowly enough to tease me without bringing me any further. “But you can't pull one on me without having to pay for it. Oh, I will enjoy toying with you. “
I heard myself gulping, cursing myself for getting into this mess. Shauntal had the definite capacity for cruelty and, given the time, could leave me on the edge for as long as she wanted. Mixed with the patience to read door-stopper novels in one sitting, it meant that sunlight would be a distant memory by the time I got release.
Her thighs pressed against my hips as she pulled away and drew back forward. I felt her hands on my wrists, pinning me down as the underside of my penis pressed against her slit and the next few motions her hips made drove me mad.
“The boy had little recourse as she took the reigns so fully. Where previously he writhed out of passion, he now moved trembled meekly, powerless to cease her teasing and the quick-firing pleasure it brought. Sunlight's last threads through the curtains gave a terrible warning of hours to come on the verge of nirvana and a relative eternity in service to her out of meek hope she would reward him with gratification.” Her head had rolled back and she stared at the ceiling as she spun her tale, coming back down to face me when she returned briefly to reality. Her hands pulled from my wrists for only a moment, pulling down at the top of her dress so that her breasts came free. They weren't the largest in the world, but a nice size and still sufficiently plump. As her body lowered, she fell back into old habits.
“Hunger tore through his throat in anticipation for the temptress's treat. Her round breasts seemed more appetizing than anything his lips had ever felt save for her nectarine core, which was preoccupied with other matters. In some eager hope to slate at least one hunger, his tongue came to it lovingly, and he treated it with all of the reverence it deserved.”
Apparently too caught up in what was sure to be her next trashy novel, she forgot about the whole 'teasing' thing. As I kissed her nipple, she moved around a little and pushed herself onto me in one motion. My tongue treatment made her twat even wetter so that now, my dick screaming in loving agony as her velvety walls enveloped it. Eagerly I suckled on her breast, hoping to lull her deeper into her artsy trance just long enough to get off.
Her hands pressed against the headboard as she pushed against it for leverage. Seeing her face caught in its pleasured state from below as I got a mouthful of tit and her body heaved atop me was one of the hottest things I'd seen on me in recent memory, and really made me miss hanging around with her. I'd need to pay more regular visits if she got this intense when I finally came around.
All of the commotion and previous stimulation worked against me. I knew that my first release in her hands wouldn't be my last, but fuck if I didn't want to at least outlast her. The stirrings in my body were imminent, and I could do nothing but brace myself for the oncoming release.
Then, in a couple of smarmy words, all of our momentum ended. My orgasm receded so fast it worried me that I wouldn't get another one again, and whatever trance Shauntal had fallen into broke in an instant.
“What a surprise.”
As the soft flesh moved away to stop obscuring my face, I saw Grimsley standing in the doorway with an amused smile on his face. He had found his girlfriend and a friend in his hotel room, fucking on the mostly unused second bed, and he wasn't angry about it at all.
“You should have waited for me,” he said in a voice so smooth my eyes shut involuntary and something comforting came over me. Before I could perceive anything else, I could hear his whisper in my ear. “It has been so long, after all. I wanted to indulge as well, dear.”
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You Don\'t Meet Nice Girls in Coffee Shops