One thing about this world that I hadn't really thought about was how protective of me my parents were.
I had always been a bit sheltered, even back in my world. Perks of being an only child, I suppose. They had always kept up on what I was into at the time, how I was doing at school, how I was getting along with my friends, making sure I wasn't doing anything I wasn't supposed to or spending my time on bad places on the internet, the whole shebang. My parents were very involved with my life, especially when I was younger. It wasn't suffocating, but I might've felt like it was had they kept up with it as I continually grew older.
They started to give me a bit of space sometime around freshman year of high school. My father had realized that I would have to spread my wings eventually, so he convinced my mom to also stop hover-parenting me so much and left me to my own devices a bit more often—though they were still strict about my grades. When I entered my first relationship in tenth grade, they started to default back to those tendencies, but after a few months, the relationship was going smoothly, so they decided to leave it be and allowed us to take it at our pace, though my father did sit me down and told me that my mistakes were mine alone, and if I screwed up, I would have to deal with the consequences. Laying in the bed that I made and all that.
Apparently, that was not the case in this world.
Ever since I had gotten home, my parents had been shooting me worried looks. I had immediately taken a shower as soon as I got home, which was admittedly unusual for me, but a suspicious shower was a lot better than smelling like sex at the dinner table. They never brought anything up throughout dinner, beyond than the usual "how are classes" and "how is that book you're reading" small talk, but they kept sending each other looks the whole time. At first, I was worried I'd been found out, but they never brought anything up, just trying to keep the normal dinner conversation flow going. The only overt gestures either of them made were at the end of dinner, as we were bringing our plates to the sink, when my mom set her hand on my shoulder and told me if anything was ever wrong, or I was ever having trouble with anything, I could always tell her, and she would always be there for me. She was almost acting like she thought I was being roped into something terrible or falling in with the wrong crowd.
I only caught the subtext in hindsight, dumbass that I am.
Promising her that everything was fine, I hugged and kissed my parents before retiring to my room for the night.
Nothing particularly eventful happened from then on until late at night, just as I was about to retire for the night, when my phone started buzzing. I had been re-reading some of the fantasy books I owned, both to keep track of any differences in the plot and character interactions and to compare and contrast them to the versions of them that I remembered when I got a call. I reached over to my nightstand, holding my place in the book with my thumb, pulled the phone towards me by the charging cable and checked the caller ID. It was Brandon.
Does he usually call me this late at night?
I didn't really know the specifics of our relationship in this world, so I couldn't just assume that it was out of the ordinary. At the same time, though, he never once called me over the break, so it still felt a little weird that he was suddenly calling me past eleven. The Brandon I knew was an early riser, so he was normally pretty punctual about going to bed early.
Guess I won't know until I ask.
Hitting the answer button, I held my phone up to my ear. "What's up, Brandon?"
"Hey, Jason," he greeted me quietly—more so than he did at school, at least. That didn't mean much to me, admittedly, since his parents were probably asleep by now. They were much older, nearly the age of most grandparents, and often went to bed at nine at the latest. Given how old they were, it was a miracle his parents were able to conceive him at all.
"What's going on? Aren't you normally asleep by now?
"Yeah," he replied drowsily, his yawn coming in family through the phone speaker. "I had something to ask you about, though."
"Sure, go for it," I told him, already turning back to my book.
"Why'd you tell your parents you were at my house today?"
I snapped the book shut.
Shit, I didn't put the bookmark in the page first.
"Did they call you or something?" I asked him, my tone frostier than I intended.
"They called my dad, he asked me about it," Brandon explained. "So, why are you trying to use me as cover? Did you fall in with the Russels or something?"
"Who the fuck are the Russels?" I reflexively asked, bewildered.
"Ah, guess not. Just some girls that answer to one of the jocks. Her family's super rich, so they act like they can get away with anything. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them."
"News to me."
"Okay. But still, why?" he repeated. "I'm a little mad you right now, but I really just wanna know why you did it. I'm worried about you, Jason—you don't usually keep secrets like this."
I held myself back from audibly sighing, though I really wanted to. "Fine, sure. I was getting tutored in history. I didn't tell you because I only convinced someone to tutor me earlier today."
"Uh huh," he said sarcastically. "And you had to lie to your parents about getting a tutor?"
"Hey, my parents get on my ass about grades. I get anything below a B at the end of the semester and they ground my ass," I shot back, feeling a little defensive, even if he was right.
"Yeah, that's true. But you got amnesia. They'd totally understand if you needed a tutor, right?"
That would be true if I actually had amnesia, but I couldn't actually tell him that.
"I guess," I shrugged, "but I didn't want to make them get me one, so I got my own."
"Oh," he replied, connecting the dots. "And your tutor's a girl, isn't it?"
"She's got one of the best grades in our class," I defended, but I knew that that argument wouldn't convince him. It certainly wouldn't have convinced me if I was in his position.
"Mm." I could practically see him nodding facetiously. "And nothing else is going on? This girl isn't blackmailing you or anything, is she? How well does she supposedly know you?"
"She knew nothing about me," I assuaged his fears. "I approached her first, and she thought I was gonna try to tease her or something. She's got some pretty serious social anxiety, so there's no chance she'll try to manipulate me or anything like that. And even if she tries to rape me or whatever, I'm definitely stronger than her. Nothing's gonna happen."
"…If you say so," he responded uncertainly.
"Trust me," I waved him off. "Everything'll be fine. I just don't want my parents getting all worked up because one of my grades is subpar."
"…Alright, I'll trust you. But your parents already know something's up, since they called mine, like I said. What're you planning on telling them?"
I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me. Force of habit, I supposed. "Same thing I told you. After I make sure my grade isn't tanking, though."
"How long will that take?" he asked.
"Dunno. Few weeks or something," I responded, not sure if my estimate was even remotely accurate.
"Alright. Just be safe."
"I will," I told him.
"Goodnight."
"See ya."
I hung up, tossing the phone onto my bed and leaning back in my chair, stretching my arms. After checking my phone one last time to see if I had any new texts (there weren't), I plugged it into the charger and settled into bed, closing my eyes and trying to fall asleep.
Of course, sleep didn't come that easily. While trying to sleep, I would normally just think about some of the especially boring parts of that day, but tonight, my mind just kept circling back to my little rendezvous with Claire. Her soft skin, her lips, her tits, her incredible virgin pussy, her cute reactions, the way her lust practically lit up her face, her screaming out in ecstasy as I made her cum repeatedly….
Fuck. Now I'm hard again.
I did my best to ignore my sudden uprising. If I stayed up all night beating off, I'd be way too tired to do well in school, and then all the hours I'd spent studying would really go to waste. It was best to try and get as much sleep as I could, so I could retain as much of what I learned as possible.
Besides, if I'm still this horny tomorrow, I can just fuck Claire in my car at lunch or something.
With that thought to comfort me, I slowly drifted off to sleep, knowing that my final semester of high school would be a lot more exciting.
As expected, I was pretty lost throughout most of history class. I was really glad I studied as much as I did yesterday, since it gave me the barest understanding of what the teacher was talking about, but it wasn't enough to suddenly have a twelfth-grade comprehension of the subject. I was still missing so much information.
Granted, my study sessions were definitely something I was looking forward to, but it still irked me that I needed them at all.
Maybe I could convince Claire to help me twice a week? Mondays and Fridays, maybe?
Something to think on later.
We only had about twenty minutes for recess, so I headed to one of the tables up atop the little hill overlooking the school and sat down, quickly scarfing down the protein bar I brought from home and chugging about half of my water bottle. I wasn't sure what my plans were for lunch today, so I wanted to make sure I got a good amount of calories in while I could. If it ended up being a slow day, I could just get something a bit lighter from the cafeteria for lunch, like a chicken wrap, but if it ended up being a bit busier, then I wanted to make sure I wasn't gonna be starving the rest of the day.
It took Brandon a couple minutes longer than he usually did to make his way over, but he eventually found me and sat down, a metal thermos and a pear in hand.
"Class get out late?" I asked him.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Art teacher went into a long lecture about acrylics versus oils. Took forever to get outta there."
"Sucks," I lamented.
"Mhm." Brandon took a bite of his pear.
I glanced down at the fruit in his hand. "Aren't those things like, pure sugar? Will that even last you to lunch?"
He shook his head. "Low-glycemic, high in fiber, vitamins, antioxidants, some other helpful stuff. Fruit sugars aren't the same as added sugars."
I shrugged, conceding. He probably knew more about it than I did. Most of my nutritional needs were taken care of by my parents, so I never studied the health benefits of most foods. My mother in particular had always made sure my father and I took our vitamins every day to make up for anything our diets might have lacked. It felt a little overbearing at times, especially when I was younger, but I had come to appreciate it as I got older.
"So," Brandon spoke after a minute or two of silence, swallowing down another bite of his pear. "Who's the girl?"
I sighed. Should've known he'd bring this up. "Claire. Don't know if you know her."
"Last name?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" I shot back, mildly annoyed. I thought about saying that this was why I didn't want to tell him, but I felt like that would have been a little too petty.
"Guess not," he let it go. "I think I know who you're talking about, but I don't know her very well. I think we shared a couple classes last year, but I never really talked to her."
"Doesn't surprise me," I nodded. "She doesn't really seem like the social type."
"You know her that well already? Wow, I didn't know you were spending time with her without telling me. I'm hurt," he joked. I smiled right back at him.
"We only really started talking yesterday. I like to think I've got a good read on her, though."
"Sure," he responded sarcastically. "Right up until she takes a rag to you, and you end up tied down to her bed."
"Don't threaten me with a good time," I grinned at him.
He did bring up something interesting, though: if women were more sexually aggressive, how did rapes occur? Strength was apparently a little more equal in this world than in my original one, but the men were still taller on average. Most rapes back in my world were heat-of-the-moment or opportunistic crimes, usually against someone the perpetrator knew. Only a very small percent were ever premeditated, or against strangers. Were those statistics the same here? Were the motives or methods the same? I imagined it was pretty difficult for girls to rape guys here, since they had to multitask to a pretty extreme degree. Pinning down someone larger than you while keeping them hard didn't sound too easy. Drugs sounded like an obvious solution, but that brought up the question of how easy it was to get said drugs. Was there a major market for date-rape drug trafficking? Again, that would suggest rapes being more premeditated here. Knives and guns made more sense, but it would've seemed to me like a gun or knife to the face would render a guy flaccid real quick.
I supposed I'd also have to check kidnapping statistics to see if there was any correlation there, too.
"Jeez. Nothing ever fazes you, does it?" he asked me. There was a smile on his face, but I could hear a tiny bit of frustration in his voice. I let it slide, though. He was probably just worried for me—given the story I fed him, I wasn't surprised. I'd probably also be concerned if my best friend hit his head snowboarding and ended up an amnesiac.
"Like I said, I'm not worried," I told him. "If I thought she was gonna do some shady shit to me, I wouldn't have talked to her in the first place."
Brandon raised one eyebrow, staring me down for a couple seconds, before slumping over and sighing. "Alright, if you say so. Just don't come crying to me if it turns out she's just using you to try and get laid."
I had to keep myself from laughing out loud at that. If he knew what I'd done with her yesterday, he might flip his lid. Instead, I just smiled at him and waved him off, entirely unconcerned.
"Sure."
"Hey. I'm serious," he chastised, giving me a sober look. "I don't want you getting taken advantage of. You had a concussion recently. Someone could exploit that if you aren't careful."
I was surprised at his concern, and felt a little guilty at the fact that I had lied to him. If I hadn't thought it necessary, I probably would've come clean by now. As things were, though, I had to stick to the story.
"Thanks, Brandon. I really do appreciate that. I highly doubt our classmates are all wannabe rapists, though," I told him sincerely. I'd always been annoyed by the constant stigma that I'd been fed throughout middle school and high school that I was gonna end up raping someone unless I constantly kept myself in check, and I imagined a lot of the girls here probably felt the same way, if they had presumably been given the same treatment.
Maybe the ability to empathize with them would just make me more popular.
Shit, maybe I do have to keep myself in check. This kind of power could really go to my head.
"Probably not, but you should still be careful," he shrugged.
"That's fair," I agreed, mostly to appease him.
He looked like he was about to follow up on that, but the bell rang, cutting off whatever he was about to tell me. Quickly checking my schedule, I apparently had film class next—an easy class I took primarily to not have to deal with any electives that would require any actual work. Sure, we had to write analysis papers and learn some editing software, but beyond that, the class was essentially just watching movies, which, in my opinion, was a fantastic way to spend an hour or two while stuck at school for half the day.
Plus, I just wasn't a very creative person, so none of the other electives really spoke to me.
"Alright, I gotta get to class," I told him, standing up and throwing my wrapper into the nearby trash can. "I'll talk to you later, man."
"Alright," he smiled at me, waving goodbye. "See you at lunch?"
I didn't want to have to make up an excuse then and there, so I just headed back to my locker, hands in my jacket pockets, pretending I hadn't heard him.
I don't think he bought it.
Back in my old world, film class was pretty easy. Not so easy that we could mess around on our phones the entire class and expect to pass, since my old teacher still did his job, but as long as we watched the movie and wrote a half-decent analysis paper on its themes and message, then it wasn't hard to skate by with a solid B.
Unfortunately, I didn't know who my teacher was in this world, so I had no clue how easy or hard the class was. Hopefully, it wasn't significantly harder than in my old world, but I doubted it would be. It was still film class, after all.
Taking my seat near the back, I made myself comfortable in the corner farthest away from where the teacher sat, that way I could fiddle with one of my pencils or mindlessly scribble while watching the movie without disturbing anyone else in the class. I found it rather difficult to sit through a ninety-minute movie that I didn't particularly care about without keeping my hands busy, but it had bothered my old film teacher when I kept trying to spin my pencil around my thumb, so I had ended up moving to the back of the room so he wouldn't get on my case all the time.
I was also a little worried that the me from this universe sat in a different seat, and I was now occupying someone else's spot, but no one came to badger me about it, and there were still like six or seven open seats, regardless, so I put that out of my mind pretty quickly.
The only reason I didn't have this problem with any of my other classes was that others had assigned seating. It seemed electives were the only classes without.
Just seconds before the teacher (a woman, one I once again did not recognize) began roll call, to my surprise, Claire opened the door and slipped inside, trying to cause as little disturbance as possible—so, naturally, the entire class turned to look at her. She gave them a small wave, barely more than a slight raise of her hand, and the rest of the class soon turned back to the teacher, finding her of no further interest. I, however, continued to stare at her until she spotted me, then gave her a small smile and gestured for her to sit next to me with a tilt of my head.
After only a slight bit of hesitation, Claire quickly made her way over to me and sat down, avoiding my eyes. I assumed her reticence probably had to do with what we had done yesterday, and our now-undefined relationship as a result of it, but I really didn't want to try and hash that out in the classroom. Luckily, both of us were saved from further awkwardness by the teacher taking roll call, then playing some strange film noir. It starred a grizzled female detective in a trench coat and some odd cross between a normal, male three-piece suit and a modern pantsuit, cut to accentuate her natural curves, with a thin tie, just wide enough to cover the buttons on her shirt, sitting squarely in the valley of her breasts. No one else batted an eye at the design, which I found rather unfamiliar, so I had to assume that it was just another difference between the two worlds.
Now that I think about it, I should probably do some research on this world's fashion. I'll need to be able to know what my parents are talking about when they discuss their job at dinner. The other me was probably pretty big into fashion because of them, so if I suddenly seem like I've forgotten everything, they'll definitely know something's up.
"Hey," I whispered to Claire as the movie played, grabbing her attention. "What's this class like? I think I remember it being pretty easy, but it's kinda fuzzy. Is there anything specific we need to do to try and get a good grade, or do we just have to watch the movie and write an analysis?"
Claire glanced over at the teacher, making sure she wasn't paying any attention to us before responding. "Basically that, yeah. Also the editing software lessons, though. Those are on Fridays, but they're pretty easy."
"Gotcha," I nodded, leaning back in my seat. I supposed that was a minor difference between our worlds, as well. Back in my world, all of the editing lessons took place in the Film I and II, while III and IV were all about film analysis. Apparently, the film classes here took a bit different approach.
Luckily, I already knew how to work the editing software, so I should be fine, as long as they weren't also using a different editing software, but even then, it wouldn't be like I was starting from the ground up. I'd just need to learn the new layout and how to access all the tools. Editing software was still editing software, at the end of the day.
"Do you, uh, think you'll need help with the editing stuff?" Claire asked quietly, trying to act natural—and failing. The attempt was cute, though, so I gave her a smile.
"I might. I think I remember the basic gist of it, but I might need help with some of the specifics," I left the offer open for her.
Claire nodded, clearly trying not to seem too excited. "Well, if you ever need help, just, like, let me know. I'll, uh…y'know…" she trailed off, apparently blanking on the words.
"Show me the ropes?" I suggested, trying not to sound condescending or anything like that.
"Yeah, that," she agreed, smiling back at me.
"Sure," I agreed easily. "I'll let you know if I need anything."
"Cool," she nodded.
I turned back to the movie after a couple seconds, realizing she didn't have anything else to say. I thought about asking her to go to lunch with me, but decided to wait—both because I didn't want anyone to overhear us and start rumors, and because I didn't want her to sit and stew awkwardly over the invitation for an hour. Better to ask her right when lunch starts, that way it'd feel more spontaneous. The more one had time to think about a date, the more worries would inevitably come to mind, so I thought it better to just avoid that all entirely.
Of course, ten minutes later, Claire decided to throw my plans out the window.
"Hey, uh…" she began quietly, trying to grab my attention. I glanced over at her, indicating I was listening. "What're your plans for lunch?"
I blinked, not expecting the question, then shrugged. "I'm free, far as I know. Why?"
"Well, I was, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch together," she managed to spit out. Apparently, she was more confident than I had given her credit for.
Then again, I did sleep with her. I supposed that was a pretty big confidence boost.
"Sure, sounds good. Did you wanna go out to get something?" I returned. "I didn't bring anything, and the cafeteria food isn't all that great, so I figured I'd go buy something."
She gave me a bright smile. "Yeah!"
One of the girls nearby shushed her, and Claire ducked her head apologetically, probably blushing. I couldn't actually tell, considering the lights were off.
The movie, while providing some interesting insight on this world's sense of fashion, wasn't actually that much to write home about. That said, though, I wasn't much of a noir fan. Fantasy was much more up my alley, so most older movies weren't all that entertaining to me. Though, it did give me a bit more perspective on what this world considered normal, as far as gender roles, so the movie wasn't entirely a waste. I'd probably touch on that on the assignment, but I'd have to try to avoid talking about it for too long. I wasn't looking to be labeled a masculist, or whatever the hell they called it here.
Luckily, the movie came to an end quickly enough, resolved by the grizzled detective locking up the glamorous, well-dressed man, who had indeed murdered the man trying to find the jeweled parakeet. Just as credits began rolling, the teacher assigned us a five-hundred-word review on the movie, due Thursday, and then kicked us all out right as the lunch bell rang.
"So, where do you wanna eat?" Claire asked me as we left the classroom.
"Probably just some fast food," I shrugged. "Maybe a sandwich shop. We don't really have time for much else."
She nodded in agreement. "I know a pretty good sandwich place not too far from here, actually. My parents sometimes bring it home for dinner after work."
"Sure, sounds great," I agreed easily, letting her lead me to her car.
Her car was surprisingly standard, given how rich her parents were: a basic compact sedan of Japanese make that probably got good mileage and high safety ratings. Something that a set of middle-class, loving parents would get their kid. I supposed that was a good thing, since that meant her parents probably cared for her a lot, but it also could've meant that they just didn't trust her with a nicer sports car, and didn't want to have to pay the extra repair costs if she wrecked it.
I supposed that was fair. I certainly put a dent or two in my parents' cars when I was still learning how to drive.
"Here," she unlocked the car with the press of a button. "It's only a couple minutes away, so we should have time to spare."
I stepped into the car and buckled up. The car was small, but not uncomfortably so, even if the backseats were a bit smaller than I would have preferred. The dashboard display showed that her smartphone was connected wirelessly, paused at the halfway point of some song I didn't recognize. Noticing I had seen it, she quickly closed it out, a little embarrassed.
"Is there anything you wanna listen to?" she asked, flicking open some music streaming app.
I shook my head, too unfamiliar with this world's music to make any suggestions. "Play whatever you want. It's your car."
I doubted I would've taken her music taste into account if I was the one driving, but that was probably more a knock against me than her.
We drove quietly, making relatively little small talk while she played some neutral, inoffensive pop music that she probably thought I at least wouldn't hate, having zero clue what my music tastes were. I mostly tuned it out, instead asking her a couple small questions about her interests and her relationship with her parents that mostly confirmed what I had already guessed about her—her parents worked a lot and were almost always busy, she was an only child, most of her interests were relatively nerdy, didn't have a ton of friends at school, that sort of thing. Within a few minutes, about the length of a song or two, she had pulled into a small plaza and parked just in front of a local deli that I hadn't heard of. I initially thought that surprising, since I was confident I already knew most of the places around the school, but then I remembered that I couldn't count on that knowledge being accurate anymore.
On the upside, that meant my entire town—maybe even the entirety of Seattle—was now a potentially entirely new area for me to explore. I was suddenly very interested in learning what was still the same, and what had changed.
Lunch was ordered and devoured quickly. I would've ordered a Reuben, but I figured sauerkraut wouldn't be the nicest thing for someone to taste on my tongue while kissing me, and I was planning on making out with Claire pretty soon, so I went for the chicken club instead. Claire got some turkey sandwich (real turkey, not the sliced grocery store kind) with some sort of cranberry sauce topping that I was initially skeptical about, but when she let me try a bite, I found it was actually quite good. Certainly better than my own sandwich—but then again, I didn't order mine for the taste.
We devoured our sandwiches quickly, making little in the way of conversation. Claire tried to broach a few subjects, but I generally gave short, minimalistic answers, leaving the mood a little stilted. By the time we had finished our food, she seemed a little downcast, likely because she thought I wasn't that interested in what she was saying—which wasn't the case at all. Normally, I would be happy to have a conversation with her, since I was very much an extrovert, but we were on a time crunch, and I wanted us to have as much time as possible before we have to get back to school.
We stepped into the car, buckled up, and as she turned the key, she looked over at me, clearly about to say something, but I interrupted her, having had other plans.
"Ever had car sex?"
Whatever she was about to say froze on the tip of her tongue. She stared at me, clearly blindsided by the question. The answer was obviously no, since I'd just taken her virginity yesterday, but that wasn't the point of asking, anyway.
I grinned cheekily at her.
"Uhh," she responded intelligently.
"We ate pretty fast, so we've got some time before we have to be back. Find us a spot where we won't be seen, and we'll have a good thirty minutes to ourselves," I told her, enjoying the reactions I was able to eke out of her, but not wanting her to be stuck in analysis paralysis for so long that it cut into our time together.
"I—uh, I don't really know anywhere like that. Not off the top of my head," she admitted, pulling out her phone and beginning to tap away.
I shrugged, leaning back into my seat. "Well, find somewhere quick. The more time you spend searching, the less time we spend fucking."
That certainly got her motivated.
Within five minutes, she had pulled us into an empty dead-end street behind a shopping center, put up her window shades for some privacy, then turned to me with excitement written all over her face, practically begging me to strip right there in the front seat. How she expected us to fuck with the center console between us, I had no idea, but I figured her brain was probably more occupied with thinking about the sex itself rather than the logistics surrounding it.
"Backseat," I told her, opening the door and stepping out of the car. "I'm not gonna try and fuck you over the center console."
"Uh, right," she came back to reality, quickly getting out herself before we both slipped into the backseat and began awkwardly trying to shuck off our heavy winter clothes and boots in the incredibly cramped space. Even with the front seats as far forward as possible, it felt like we barely had any maneuverability.
I knew we should've taken my car.
We did eventually manage to divest ourselves of most of our clothes, and as soon as I was down to just my shirt and thermal pants, Claire was on top of me like a dog on their owner after they return home from work. Immediately smashing her lips against mine, she gave me a vigorous kiss, trying to shove her tongue clumsily past my lips and into my mouth to deepen it. I opened my mouth to let her in, but was soon battling back with my tongue, refusing to give in without a fight. Claire clearly hadn't expected it, because I quickly flipped the script on her, exploring her mouth with my tongue as I gently pushed her down onto the seat. One of my hands slid down to her ass and teasingly played with the waistband of her underwear, slowly inching them downward as she ran her hands up and down my body, groping my chest and ass like she couldn't get enough of me.
She was dangerous for my ego, that was for sure.
I eventually exposed her dripping, freshly shaved pussy to the cold air, watching with great interest as a line of sticky fluid connecting her panties and labia slowly stretched as I slid her panties down her thighs. She shivered at both the cold and the anticipation as I did, maneuvering and adjusting so that I could remove her panties entirely. Once off, I pushed her down onto the seats and pulled down my pants and underwear, letting my engorged, erect penis spring out, standing tall even in the cold.
I thought about commenting on her recent shave, but I figured now probably wasn't the best time.
"This'll have to be a quickie, unfortunately. No time for foreplay," I lamented, positioning myself between her legs and rubbing the head of my dick up and down her slit, allowing her copious juices to lubricate it as I teased her pussy. Claire tried to grind down against me with her hips, attempting to conjoin us by force, so I extended the teasing for a few more seconds, rubbing against her clit with my cockhead, enjoying watching her shiver and mewl in pleasure, before giving in and sinking myself inside her with one long, smooth motion.
Claire exhaled wantonly, like a parched woman who had just been given water after a ten-mile hike through the Sahara. I could relate—her warm, soft insides felt like coming home and sitting by the fire after a long winter day. I wanted to do nothing but stay buried inside her forever. Unfortunately, we were on a time limit, so after a few seconds of indulgence, I got to work, planning on blowing her mind just like I did yesterday.
Claire made little attempt to hide her pleasure as I thrust vigorously into her, clearly loving my ministrations, which only aroused me even further. Her pussy sloshed and gurgled with each drive of my hips, pushing my cock through her soaking folds repeatedly as the vulgar sound of our flesh slapping together filled the car, punctuating our moans.
"Shit," she moaned as I flexed my dick, grinding it against her top wall, stimulating the sensitive nerves there as I fucked her deeply, dragging my cock back out to the point where only the head remained inside, then thrusting in all the way to her cervix, knocking on the door to her womb with every stroke.
…Fuck, that's right. Birth control pills.
I wasn't going to stop fucking her just to ask—her insides felt way too good to do that—but I was concerned about it.
"Hey," I panted out, still fucking her with deep, languid rows, causing her legs to shiver and twitch as if they had a mind of their own. "I…didn't take any birth control this morning. Should I pull out?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but my dick apparently hit a spot she really liked as I drove my hips forward, because she ended up letting out a high-pitched squeak rather than responding.
"You—ah—should be fine. It's been…less than—fuck—a day since the last one," she moaned out, grinding her hips against mine to heighten her pleasure, rubbing her fluids all over my pelvis. Some of it dripped down and soaked into the waistband of my underwear, which was currently pulled down to my knees.
I was still a bit paranoid, given I had never really taken birth control of any kind before yesterday, and didn't know how it worked, on top of the fear that Claire was potentially trying to honey trap me and get her pregnant, but my lust ultimately overpowered any lingering doubts that I might have had, so I ploughed on, focusing instead on dragging us both across the finish line.
Definitely not the smartest decision I've ever made, but it was hard to think while balls deep in wet, hot pussy.
I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers as I slipped my tongue into her mouth, initiating another deep kiss as I changed angles, sliding smoothly in and out with deep, even movements as I rolled my hips into her. She apparently reallyenjoyed the kiss, given how vigorously she returned it, grinding against me all the while. She was getting wetter by the second, and I had no plans to slow down. I redoubled my pace, still making out with her, and shortly after, she squealed into my mouth involuntarily, shuddering as she came. I wasn't quite close enough to my own orgasm yet, but I didn't think I would last long enough to give her a proper round two, so I was going to have to cheat a little.
I fucked her straight through her orgasm, and her mewls quickly became panicky and breathless. She eventually tried to break the kiss, tapping desperately on my shoulder to let her talk, but I held her down for a second or two longer before letting up.
"Hold—slow down—I'm—ah!" she cried as I continued to pound her. The cold air of the car prevented too much sweat from building up between us, but the smell of sex was powerful and pervasive, regardless. "Too much! Sensitive!"
"Alright, alright," I conceded, slowing down to a much more relaxed pace, though I didn't stop entirely. I let her wind down from her orgasm a bit, enjoying the delayed spasms of her vaginal walls as she did, before readjusting my position to balance myself on one arm, bringing the other down to her clit, and rested my palm on her pelvis as I began to rub her little love nub back and forth with my thumb.
I ramped up my pace once more, causing her to moan and curse loudly, clearly trying to stop herself from orgasming a second time before I did, but she didn't stand a chance against my technique. I rocked in and out of her soaking cavern, making a lewd, sloshing sound that was only barely audible over her swearing and cries of pleasure as I attacked her weak points, slowly approaching my own orgasm. By the time I was close, I was barely able to keep my balance, only able to use one arm to keep myself from collapsing on top of her—not helped by the awkward position I was fucking her in, due to how little space we had.
"I'm close," I groaned in her ear. My movements became desperate and jerky—no longer the even, powerful strokes I was using to grind against her walls, but instead the rutting of a mad beast only concerned with his own pleasure. I was only barely able to keep enough presence of mind to continue rubbing her clit. My self-control paid off, however, because shortly after, her walls clenched down around me as she moaned loudly, stopping just short of screaming out as she came again, dragging me right over the edge with her.
I growled in pleasure, breathlessly telling her that I was cumming as I hilted myself deep inside her, grinding against her cervix and shooting my seed straight into her womb. She wrapped her legs around my hips, trying to drag me even further in, forcefully stretching herself on my cock to feel me just a little bit more. I had to move my hand off of her clit to keep my balance, setting it beside her head as I leaned in to kiss her softly, pressing my lips gently against hers just as both of our orgasms began to wind down. She returned it passionately, softly nibbling on my lips as we basked in the afterglow, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies as we kissed and cuddled.
"We're…gonna be late," she breathed out, clearly not wanting to let go of me.
"…Yeah," I agreed reluctantly, slowly extracting myself from her embrace. I reached over to the front seat, grabbing the water bottle I bought at the sandwich shop and took a large swig, practically downing half of it in one to, before silently offering the rest to Claire. Given how much she'd been gushing, I was pretty sure she needed the water just as much as I did, if not more.
She sat up and took it before chugging the rest of my water greedily, then haphazardly crumpled the water bottle in her grip once it was empty. "Thanks."
"I should be thanking you," I told her, pulling her up to me and giving her a quick peck. "That was great. I seriously needed that."
Claire's eyes widened. She swallowed. I would've guessed she was blushing, had the exertion from the sex not already thoroughly stained her cheeks red. She nodded slightly, giving me an unconfident smile.
"I'm—yeah, I'm glad. It was really good for me, too."
Honestly, this woman was fucking adorable. I was primarily thanking her to give her a bit of a confidence boost, since teenage girls here were probably incredibly insecure concerning the opposite sex, just as teenage boys were back in mine.
I was no exception on that front. This world was doing wonders for my ego.
"Alright, let's get dressed and get back. I'm sure our teachers are gonna bitch at us for being late. Probably gonna make us do push-ups or something," I joked, grabbing my wadded-up clothes from the floor of the car and beginning to untangle them.
We dressed quickly, then hopped back into the front seats. I took a second to stretch my legs, finally in a comfortable position after being cramped in the backseat for so long. Claire started the car, cheeks still flushed, and began driving us back to school.
"Hey," she began as we turned out of the parking lot and onto the street. "I know you wanted to keep this a secret and all, but, uh, what happens if…" she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at her legs.
"Somebody notices?" I finished for her.
"Yeah."
I shrugged. "Like I said yesterday, if someone notices, there isn't really much we can do about it. Just don't brag about details or say who you're sleeping with, I guess. If anyone tries to stalk you just to find out, then they'll probably catch us eventually, but then they'll be the weird one for being a stalker, and we could use that against them, if we have to."
"Okay," she nodded, looking a little more relaxed.
We fell into a mostly comfortable silence for most of the drive back. I was primarily just watching Claire, holding my phone to try and hide that I was blatantly staring at her. I probably would've been caught had she not been driving, and thus focusing on the road. She squirmed and shifted occasionally, clearly still very aware of my seed sloshing around inside her, which was so hot I wanted to have her pull over so I could fuck her all over again, but we were already going to be a few minutes late by the time we got back, and I didn't want to show up even later.
Thus, I endured, and pretended that my dick wasn't about to tear a hole through my pants.
As we pulled into the school lot, Claire grabbed my attention out of the blue.
"Hey."
"What's up?" I answered.
"Are we, uh…" She hesitated, clearly nervous about asking the question. "Dating?"
I leaned back into the seat, pursing my lips. That was a pretty tough question. I didn't really plan on dating her when I first approached her, and I barely knew anything about her, so I didn't think so, but at the same time, my male pride and ego immediately wanted to say yes, at least partially for the status of having an actual girlfriend. I'd only had one girlfriend before, and for a good majority of the relationship, it was pretty great, so why wouldn't I want that again?
On the other hand, though….
I sighed. "While I'm not opposed to dating you, there are a few issues with us dating right now."
"What're those?" she asked, trying to not look so nervous, but her insecurity blatantly bled through. It was probably even easier to tell with her than it was with Brandon.
Is this how guys always look to girls?
"Well, first off, we don't really know anything about each other. We've only known each other for two days, and most of our time together has been tutoring and fucking," I pointed out. "The tutoring is the second reason. If we decide to start dating, and then the relationship goes bad, you probably aren't gonna want to tutor me anymore. And I don't mean to sound cold, but I really need the tutoring, and you're a really good tutor, so I don't want to lose that."
"Ah," she nodded, trying and failing to hide her disappointment.
"Plus, remember, I still haven't recovered my memories. My best friend already knows that, so if you come along and start dating me so soon after I hit my head, he'll probably think you're taking advantage of me."
"Ooh…" she winced, eyebrows scrunching cutely. "Yeah, that's bad."
"And it'll be even worse if rumors spread about us—especially if they reach the faculty. Our parents will probably end up involved if that happens."
Claire hissed through her teeth, probably imagining how badly her parents would react if they were told she had taken advantage of an amnesiac boy. "…Yeah."
"So, for now, it's probably best to keep it casual. I like you, and this is fun, but we should probably put dating off for a bit—at until I have a clearer head and we spend a bit more time together, so we can really get to know each other," I told her, leaving out the fact that I was primarily going to be waiting until I had a better grasp on both history and what was culturally expected of me before I'd say yes to dating her. I had been (mostly) honest with the history tutoring comment, but I didn't want to bring any extra attention to it.
She nodded slowly, mulling my words over. I hadn't outright rejected her, and I had given her legitimate reasons why we should hold off, so I had a feeling she'd be reasonable about it.
"Alright," she acquiesced, still maybe a hint disappointed. "But if we aren't dating, what are we?"
I shrugged. "Friends with benefits?"
She nodded, parking and shutting off the car. "Okay."
"That said, if we're caught and have to explain ourselves, I'm going to say we're dating, so we'll probably start actually dating if that happens. Better than saying we're just sex friends."
Claire blinked. "…Okay?"
"I'll explain later. We've gotta get to class," I pointed out, unbuckling and stepping out of the car.
"Right," she agreed, getting out as well and heading towards the female locker rooms, before turning around hesitantly, glancing back at me. "Um…see you tomorrow?"
I gave her a flirtatious grin. "Of course. I'll need someone to be late to class with."
She let out a little giggle, before clearing her throat embarrassedly, probably worried I'd think less of her for being excited or something. It was honestly pretty cute, but if she continued to be so neurotic about how she acted, it'd probably start to get on my nerves at some point. I assumed that she would be less insecure as we continued to get to know each other, though.
Is this what courting high school boys feels like for girls?
I wouldn't know. I was always on the other side of the equation, but even then, I doubted I'd be able to accurately guess how they felt. I wondered if I was as insecure as Claire back in my world, but outside of my one long-term relationship, I didn't really talk to girls, and I probably wasn't self-aware enough to really know, anyway.
Oh, well.
I waved goodbye to her, shooting her one last smile, and headed to the locker rooms, hoping that the coach wouldn't punish me too harshly.
"You slept with her," Brandon accused.
I paused, about to get in my car and head home for the day. School had just ended, and while the coach (someone I once again did not recognize) had me run a few laps as punishment, I got off fairly light, in the grand scheme of things. P.E. for boys was far less strenuous in this world, it seemed, but that gave Brandon more time to hang around me—and thus more time to catch a whiff of the lingering scent of sex I was undoubtedly coated in.
I scanned the parking lot. Quite a few students were here, but all of them were either too far away to hear what Brandon said, or wrapped up in their own conversations with someone else. Regardless, I wasn't about to take any chances talking about this where just about anyone could overhear us. Gossip tended to spread through our school like wildfire.
"Get in the car," I told him, unlocking the passenger side door. "We'll talk inside."
"That's a yes, then," he muttered, opening the passenger's side door and sitting down.
I closed the door behind me, setting the keys in the cupholder to show that I wasn't going to just start the car and drive off. I had no clue if he thought I'd do that, but I was a little forceful in my order, so I wanted to prove that I was here to actually talk to him.
"So…?" he trailed off expectantly, waiting for my answer.
"Yeah, I slept with her," I admitted without shame.
"Mary and Joseph," he muttered under his breath. I blinked, not having heard that one before, but decided it wasn't pertinent to the current conversation. I could always look it up later.
"What?" I asked, a bit defensive. "I wasn't that late to class."
"You skipped lunch to go sleep with her! Without even telling me where you were! I looked for you for all of lunch! I only ate at the last ten minutes, because I was looking for you the whole time! And where were you? Off getting swallowed by some girl you just met!"
I pursed my lips guiltily. I didn't feel bad about the sex, but he was right. I could have at least told him I would be busy at lunch. If he had disappeared somewhere without telling me, I would've been worried, too.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. I should've told you I'd be gone for lunch. I didn't mean to make you worry," I told him sincerely.
Brandon paused; the wind taken out of his sails by my apology. I didn't know if the me he knew was just an unapologetic brat, or he just wasn't me to be so serious about it, but something about my apology obviously caught him off guard.
"Alright. Thanks for saying sorry," he nodded, calming down a bit. "But you still slept with her. A girl you barely know. Like, right after you lost your memories. That's dangerous, Jay. What if she's taking advantage of you, or manipulating you somehow?"
I shook my head gently, trying to impart that I had a handle on everything. "I approached her first, and I seduced her. She wouldn't have done anything to me if I hadn't basically dragged her into bed."
He pulled his head back, clearly very surprised. Apparently, that wasn't at all like the me he knew—but then again, given our conversation yesterday, I probably should've picked up on that. "Ohmigosh, Jason. You—seriously? What happened to the boy that was always all about the romance? It took almost nine months before you started sleeping with Ashlyn, and now you're getting fucked on day one?"
I shrugged helplessly, unsure what to tell him. Clearly, the me he knew was a bit different, after all.
"I mean, I did hit my head," I joked. When I saw his brow tighten, I quickly backtracked, realizing that was probably not the right time to joke about that. "That was a joke, Brandon. I feel fine. Maybe I just needed a change of pace. I mean, Ashlyn and I didn't exactly work out, if you remember."
"I guess," Brandon conceded halfheartedly. "But still, this is a pretty huge change for you. It's…like, it's so out of the blue. Next thing, you'll tell me you wanna start a pride."
I stared at him, not sure what he was talking about. "What the fuck's a pride?"
He shot me the most deadpan look of disbelief I'd ever seen. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope."
"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath. "You're serious."
"Uh-huh," I nodded.
"Y'know," he tried to jog my memory. "When a guy gets together with, like, multiple girls? At the same time? But like, all together? What's the scientific term for it…?"
"Polygamy?" I responded, baffled. There was no way. Inverted sexual values and impulses were one thing, but polygamy sounded like something out of some shitty webcomic or something—essentially the wish-fulfillment junk food of fiction. Stories containing it were almost always formulaic, always unrealistic, and something I tended to avoid when looking for new stories to read.
"Yeah, that," he nodded.
"You're fucking with me."
"I'm not!" he protested. "It's not common anymore, but it's still out there. You'll see some of it on social media, where some really hot guy will convince a couple girls to share him. It always looks really toxic to me."
Even if he was apparently very biased against it, I was still pretty sure he was just making shit up to fuck with me. "Is polygamy even legal?"
Brandon shrugged. "Yeah, but only with multiple girls. Marrying multiple guys is seen as, like, greedy or whatever."
"That seems…" I trailed off, not sure how to state my opinion. It seemed absolutely batshit, so I had to assume that something else was going on, assuming I wasn't being messed with. I'd have to do some more research when I got home—and maybe test to make sure Claire hadn't drugged me or something. Brandon sounded completely out of his mind.
"Dumb? Yeah. I don't think I'd wanna marry multiple girls. Just one of 'em would drive me nuts. I mean, have you seenhow often they want sex?"
I gave him an amused look, which he quickly caught onto. He blushed, embarrassed.
"Oh. Right."
I cracked a grin. "Anyway, I promise I'm not being manipulated or hurt or anything. I let her know where I stand, we reached an understanding, and that was that."
He sighed, clearly not entirely convinced, but unwilling to argue any further. "…Alright. Just be careful. I don't know anything about her, but I've heard stories of girls trying to guilt trip guys to stay the night with them so that they can force them into morning sex."
I nodded, mostly just to appease him. "I'll keep it in mind."
"Thanks. I've gotta get home, now, though. My family's probably wondering where I am," he said, opening the door and stepping out.
"Alright. So long," I waved, flashing him a friendly smile to let him know I wasn't mad at him.
"Talk to you later," he said, closing the door.
I sat back in my seat, letting out a breath. I could feel the beginnings of a headache creeping up the back of my neck. Today had been fun, by in large—primarily because of the sex—but I felt like I was constantly behind the eight ball. There was just so much I didn't know, and every little slip-up I made only made the people around me even more suspicious. And that wasn't even counting the lie I was perpetuating. If I ever slipped up and got in trouble—whether it be for sex, suddenly-dropping grades, or anything else—and my parents got involved, they'd probably find out I was telling people that I had a concussion, and everyone else (just Brandon and Claire, at this point, but I doubted they'd be the only ones I'd be telling) would find out I was lying, which would cause them to not only lose their trust in me, but then begin to wonder why I was lying to them, and what I was actually trying to hide.
If only telling the truth were an option. But they wouldn't believe me if I told them, so the lie was unfortunately necessary. The whole thing felt like a delicate balancing act, and I was pretty sure that it would get even tougher before it got easier. Too many slip-ups, and it would all come crashing down around me.
I absently drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, running scenarios and possibilities through my head.
I still had a lot to learn.