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Carrie felt the need to confront Grant over his treatment of her friends.
The girls had all left; to say they were in a sour mood was an understatement. It had taken a lot of effort on Carrie’s part to dissuade them from having Grant dropped off to jail: she did get them to admit that they had not been entirely blameless in the matter. They were all of that age when matters of love, sex, and romance could be so overwhelming—producing a sense of anticipation, and fear, so all-encompassing that reason and sanity went out the window—that mistakes like this were bound to happen. So they all had to chalk it up to a lesson learned. There was no way to stop certain boys from taking advantage of them, and girls had to take special care not to let themselves fall into a compromising situation.
Still, Grant had not behaved well.
She approached his room late in the afternoon. He had had football practice that day—the team had been meeting for weeks, long before the school term started, and their first game would be the very next weekend—and she felt he might be so exhausted that he wouldn’t put up too much of a fuss over what she hoped was a severe tongue-lashing.
But whether she herself had the guts to deliver such a lecture was very much open to question. His invasion of her body had filled her with all manner of mixed emotions: there was the conventional horror of such a violation of social norms, but she couldn’t deny that her lifelong worship of her older brother had led her to yield to his seizure of her body where other girls might have put up much stronger resistance. Even now her two intimate areas still tingled from Grant’s probing of them; but in some ways his fastening of his mouth onto hers was an even more intimate gesture, and as she licked her lips she remembered the taste with a shudder of shameful pleasure.
For it was, in fact, the first time she had been kissed by a man.
So Carrie knocked on Grant’s door far more tentatively than she had planned. For some moments nothing seemed to happen, and she wondered whether he had even heard the knock. But then the door abruptly opened, and a broadly smiling Grant was facing her. He looked her up and down and said blandly, “Hi, sis.”
Carrie entered cautiously. Grant positioned himself down in front of an angled desk—rather like something an architect might use for drawing up blueprints—that he seemed to like for doing homework. He was sitting on a stool that made him seem taller than he was, and as he glanced at his sister with twinkling eyes she thought: He always likes looking down on me.
“Grant,” she said in what she hoped was her best schoolmarm voice, “you really weren’t very nice to my friends last night.”
His face betrayed an expression of mild surprise. “Not very nice? I thought I managed to please them pretty well—and you too.”
Carrie flushed at that last barb, but went on: “You weren’t nice! You—you forced yourself upon us.”
Now Grant’s face showed a scowl. “Hey, don’t give me that! You’re the one who called me, remember?”
“I know that, but—but we weren’t expecting . . .”
“Well, you should have,” he said hotly. “What did you expect me to do? Parade around in the buff and then just walk off, as if I was some Chippendale’s model?”
That was, in fact, exactly what Carrie and the other girls seemed to have in mind—but now that Grant had said it out loud, the absurdity of the thing suddenly struck her. “Okay,” she conceded, “we were pretty dumb in calling you over. But you still didn’t have to do what you did—and both ways too.” Again she flushed in remembrance, and she realized that her bottom was aching a bit more than her pussy.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Well, I have to say I surprised myself in my, um, endurance. But the five of you were too tempting to resist. And that includes you.”
And with that, he grabbed her around the shoulders and forced her to stand between his legs as he held her close.
“Oh, Grant, lemme go,” she whined, not even convincing herself.
“You’re really kind of cute, you know?” he said softly, moving his hand down to her butt.
“Grant, stop it!” she whispered, fearful that their mother might come down into the kitchen at any moment. She had closed the door of Grant’s room, but any noise that emanated from here could easily be heard in the kitchen.
“Oh, just relax, six,” he said. And with a quick gesture he pulled her skirt and panties down to her knees and, after some firm strokes of her bottom, moved his hand to her front and parted the lips of her pussy.
“Grant, you mustn’t!” she said, now terrified of detection. As Grant stroked her, she immediately became wet, and his fingers’ surprisingly delicate rubbing of her clitoris made her worry that she would cry out involuntarily. Grant prevented that possibility by bending his head down and plastering his lips against hers. She had no choice but to drape her arms around illegal bahis her shoulders as she pushed her groin against his hand.
The whole business only took a few minutes, and as her climax washed over her she did moan—but the sound seemed to go right into Grant’s mouth as their lips remained glued together. Grant knew enough about female desire that he continued to stroke her clit gently, prolonging the sensation almost beyond endurance. At last Carrie couldn’t take it anymore, seizing Grant’s hand and moving it away. She also pried herself out of his embrace.
“Grant, that was really naughty!” she said in a harried undertone.
He just gave her a crooked smile.
She angrily pulled up her panties and skirt and glared at her brother. She hoped this would be the end of it, but hadn’t failed to notice a certain hardening in the area of his own groin. But he didn’t seem inclined toward any more action: he all but turned away from Carrie and resumed focusing on whatever it was he was doing at his desk.
Carrie was about to turn on her heels and flounce out of the room when Grant said, “Say, that girl Marcia—”
“What about her?” she said sharply.
“I kind of like her. Why don’t you have her pay me a visit tomorrow night? Can’t be tonight—I need to rest up.”
Carried stared at him, speechless.
“What makes you think,” she said slowly in stupefied wonderment, “that she will want to have anything to do with you after what you did to her?”
Grant gave her a look that said, Oh, come on, sis, she really liked it. “I’m sure you have great powers of persuasion.”
Carrie just shook her head. “You’re so full of yourself,” she said, mostly to herself, and stalked away.
*
Carrie waited till the next day to confront Marcia.
They met in the mall early in the afternoon. Both of them were stocking up on supplies they would need for college, and both studiously avoided talking about what had happened at the slumber party. Maybe, they concluded, if they forgot all about it, they could somehow pretend it hadn’t happened.
But that hopeless dream didn’t last very long.
As they sat down to refresh themselves at a Starbucks, Carrie gazed at Marcia with a strange expression. Marcia, for her part, had spent the previous hour chattering away on any and all subjects—except the one that was obviously in the forefront of both their minds.
“What’s the matter with you?” Marcia said, eyes narrowing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Carrie turned her head away. “Nothing,” she said absently.
There was an embarrassingly long silence. Getting agitated, Marcia blurted out, “How’s Grant?” She could have bit her tongue: that was the very last thing she had wanted to say.
Carrie blushed a little. “He’s fine,” she said evasively.
“Are you okay?” Marcia said pointedly.
Carrie smiled wanly. “I’m okay. It was no big deal.”
It was Marcia’s turn to stare at her friend. No big deal when your brother fucks you in the pussy and the ass?
“He was . . . pretty mean, wasn’t he?” Marcia said half-audibly.
“I guess,” Carrie shrugged. “It’s just the way he is.”
“Yeah, well, maybe he should think about being different,” Marcia said with sudden venom.
Carrie’s look said, Are you kidding me? That’ll happen when I become Queen of the World. She licked her lips, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Finally she ventured, “He asked about you the other day.”
“Oh, did he?” Marcia said snidely.
“Yeah.” After a long silence: “I’m not sure how to say this . . . but—but he wants you to come over tonight.”
That last phrase was spoken in blinding haste—so much so that Carrie wondered if Marcia had heard it all.
But her widening eyes made it abundantly plain that she had.
“He wants me to . . .?” she said in disbelief. “And do what?”
Carrie looked at her hands and said, “I think you know.”
Marcia glared piercingly at her friend, her mouth slowly dropping open. “You can’t be serious! He can’t be serious!”
“He likes you!” Carrie said desperately. “He said that.”
“Oh, he likes me,” Marcia said with acid in her voice. Translation: he likes my boobs and my pussy and my butt.
“He really does,” Carrie said weakly, chiding herself for sounding like a freshman in high school rather than someone less than a week away from being a freshman in college.
“How can he like me?” Marcia said scornfully. “He doesn’t know a damn thing about me.”
“I don’t know,” Carrie said helplessly. “It’s just what he said. He’s known a lot of girls”—that comment didn’t help her case any, if Marcia’s infuriated glare was any indication—”and there aren’t very many he wants to see a second time.”
“Yeah, well, he can just—”
“You have to go!” Carrie interrupted. “If you don’t, he’ll—he’ll do me again.”
There was another deafening silence.
Carrie felt hugely illegal bahis siteleri ashamed of herself for this outright lie. In the first place, it was becoming increasingly obvious to her that she not only didn’t object, but actually looked forward, to Grant “doing” her again. In the second place, she knew that this kind of emotional blackmail was just about the lowest thing she could have done to someone she thought of as a dear friend. But Grant was not to be denied: she knew that as well as anyone.
“Is that what he said?” Marcia said in an appalled whisper.
Carrie nodded her head frantically, once again cringing inwardly at her deceit.
Marcia stared off blankly. She herself was going through a torrent of conflicting emotions. Of course she had been outraged at Grant’s unwarranted invasion of her body: he clearly didn’t think any girl really meant “no” when she said “no.” And what he had done to her—especially that second thing, which she had heard people call by the vile term “rear entry”—was both painful and distasteful. She could still not sit too long at a time before her bottom started to ache. And now, as her mind became flooded with memories of Grant’s manhandling of her, she writhed on her tush in horrified recollection.
On the other hand, despite the pain and humiliation Grant had inflicted on her, she felt a curious gratitude to him for relieving her of her virginity. I mean, I had to get rid of it sometime, didn’t I? In some strange way, it was good that he had done it: if it had happened with some guy she really cared for, the agony and the mess might have been such that the guy would have freaked out and been driven away. Anyway, the whole thing hadn’t been that bad, really. Grant was, after all, a splendid specimen of young, strong masculinity. If she had him to herself, maybe he would actually make love to her instead of just fucking her.
And of course, she felt a sisterly sympathy toward poor Carrie, who would otherwise be pounded by her own brother if she (Marcia) didn’t step into the breach.
“Wh-when does he want me?” Marcia volunteered, half in shame and half in excitement.
“I don’t know,” Carrie said. “Sometime in the evening—maybe around ten.”
“He’s going to want me to—to stay the night?”
“Yeah, I guess so. So you’d better bring a change of clothing. You can have breakfast with us the next morning.”
The whole thing was now starting to sound like a kind of coed slumber party—but with only two participants, Grant and herself. It was also starting to sound like something else, but Marcia put that out of her mind. Still, as she looked at Carrie, who seemed overwhelmed with relief, she couldn’t help thinking: Well, this girl is being a pretty good madam for her brother.
*
“Hi, Grant.”
“Hey, Marcia. Glad you decided to come.”
Marcia had come to the outside entrance to Grant’s room, as she was too embarrassed to tramp all the way through the house. She had no idea what Grant’s mother, Jessica, would make of all this—or maybe she’d just gotten so used to an endless succession of girls going in and out of Grant’s room that she didn’t pay much attention anymore. Still, the whole thing struck her as pretty indecent, not to mention high-handed and arrogant. My God, she thought to herself, does he just expect to snap his fingers and have a girl show up at his doorstep, ready and waiting to spread her legs?
And yet, here she was, apparently set to do just that.
If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted that his summoning her like this was hugely flattering. Even before she had known that she would be attending the U, she had followed Grant’s football career with reflected pride: here she was, best friends (or at least one of the best friends) of a girl who was the sister of a star athlete, one who regularly appeared on television and was talked about by commentators as a possible candidate for the NFL—maybe not a high draft pick, but at least of some interest to certain teams. If she was actually seen around campus in Grant’s presence, her status would immediately be elevated from that of humble freshman to the girlfriend of a BMOC.
She just wished he would treat women better.
She now did feel like a young woman, not a girl—and it wasn’t entirely because she had now accommodated a man’s penis into her private parts. She could now vote; she’d been driving a car for years; she was about to enroll in college; and with a shapely, curvy body that no longer had many traces of baby fat, she could definitely feel as if she was on the threshold of adulthood. Whether she would have agreed that the distinction between women and girls—like the distinction between men and boys—was a matter of emotional maturity wasn’t entirely clear.
I have to handle myself better this time, she resolved to herself. I have him all to myself—I can’t let him push me around. She reflected that his domineering actions at the canlı bahis siteleri slumber party had been, at least to her, harder to resist precisely because the other girls had been there. She had felt inhibited by their mere presence, even though Grant obviously hadn’t been. Now, facing him one on one, she hoped she could preserve her dignity and self-respect a bit better.
She really didn’t know what to expect. Was he just going to order her to strip in front of him and get right down to business? That would be too humiliating—she really would feel like a whore if that happened. He himself, to her alarm, seemed to be wearing only a thin robe—was there anything underneath?
After letting her in, he went over to the far corner of the room, where his desk was. He sat down on the stool in front of the desk—apparently where he had been before her timid knock, for his laptop was on. But now he sat with his back to the desk, and he opened his arms and urged mildly, “Come here.”
Marcia resisted for a few moments, hoping against hope that they might actually talk a little before getting down to business. But she grudgingly made her way to him, and he enfolded her in his arms while surrounding her with his strong thighs. She had deliberately not dressed provocatively, wearing a thin sweater and knee-length skirt that actually made her look a little younger than her years. As Grant embraced her, he placed his head on her chest, just above her swelling breasts. She had no choice but to hold his head in place there.
“You smell really nice,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” she said formulaically.
She knew what would inevitably follow. His hands, initially at her waist, reached to the hem of her sweater and pulled it up over her head. She had only a bra on underneath. At the moment, Grant didn’t take it off, but his hands promptly went back to her waist and then descended to her bottom, seizing both cheeks of her butt. She groaned, both in pleasure and in mild irritation at herself at putting up no struggle against his importunities. With an expert touch he unclasped her bra and tossed it aside, burying his head between her breasts; then, in an equally sure maneuver, he unzipped her skirt and let it slide down to her feet, then whisked down her panties to her knees.
He himself had somehow managed, at the same time, to open the folds of his robe. As she had predicted, he was naked underneath—and already immensely hard.
His cock actually slid between her thighs, and she wondered whether he would impale her right then and there, even before she was quite ready to receive him. But he had other things in mind. Now kissing and licking her breasts, occasionally nuzzling her nipples, he parted her legs enough to place his right hand up to her crotch. In a matter of seconds he had made the whole area wet, even dripping, as Marcia moaned more loudly and frantically pressed his head to her chest. His fingers knew exactly what to do, and in minutes he had coaxed a shuddering orgasm out of her.
He kept his hand at her pussy as she struggled to remain upright, her knees getting weak as she held on to him. She didn’t think she’d ever had a climax standing up, and she felt suddenly dizzy. In the midst of her frustration at his assumption that she was nothing but his plaything, she felt some gratitude that he had given her pleasure first before taking his own.
After she had regained her composure somewhat, he said, “Will you suck me?”
Well, at least he asked, she said resignedly as she slid down to her knees and silently engulfed his cock into her mouth.
This was a better experience than the previous one, where he had all but forced his member down her throat. Now he was content to let her take in as much as she could comfortably manage, and she worked slowly, drawing it inch by inch into her mouth while also using her tongue to lick the shaft. She had heard somewhere that the tip was actually the most sensitive part, so after a while she took his cock out of her mouth, gave it a quick little kiss, and then used her tongue to bathe the tip with her saliva. That seemed to produce welcome results, as Grant moaned unexpectedly and the cock seemed to quiver while she held it with her hand. For a moment she was afraid he might spurt into her mouth—something she had obviously never experienced and, at the moment, didn’t want to experience. Yuk! The idea of that thick, gooey stuff going down her throat . . .
But Grant wasn’t ready for that. He suddenly pulled her away from himself, then in a swift move lifted her off her feet and into his arms. He gazed down on her with a mix of tenderness and burning desire, and in spite of her unexpressed indignation at being put in this helpless position she couldn’t help feeling a warm glow all through her body at that gaze. Maybe he does like me after all—and more than just for my body!
He placed her gently on the bed and continued to look benevolently down at her. All she could do was stare back at him with almost intolerable longing. The orgasm she had just had now seemed an ancient memory, and she yearned for more of the same—and yearned to give him as many climaxes as she could draw out of him.
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