Four Seasons: Summertime, and the Peein's Easy (Meagan & Parker)

[Weasel 1,015]

Hey, everyone. Here's chapter 3 of Four Seasons.

-------------------------------------

Summertime, and the livin’s easy

Parker hustled inside the apartment. It was no cooler inside than out, so he moved at high speed for the kitchen.

“Hey,” Meagan said, not looking up from her book.

“How’s your day been?” he asked.

“Hot and frustrating,” she said. “This homework… the only good thing about it is it doesn’t involve my laptop. I don’t want any more heat sources in here right now.”

“Then I have just the thing for you,” he said, and pulled it out from the bag.

She didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“Two words: Moose Tracks.”

She looked up at last. Her eyebrows went up a little further than the rest. “Ice cream?”

“Not just ice cream. Your favorite ice cream.”

She sighed and looked back at her book.

He popped the ice cream in the freezer. “You’re welcome.”

She sighed again. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Just trying to help.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “By buying junk food.”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise!”

“Parker, you know we can’t afford that.”

“It was just three dollars. Not about to break the bank.”

“But it’s never ‘just’ three dollars, Parker,” she said. “It’s a whole fuckin’ bunch of dollars. Three, five, ten… it all adds up. How many times have you run over budget so far, huh?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Parker said. “Let me get this straight. I bought ice cream. For three dollars. To cheer you up. And I’ve been home for two minutes and we’re arguing about money and how financially irresponsible I am.”

“You’re not irresponsible, Parker, you just have a lot to learn. Especially when I’m the only one with any income.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault nobody’s hiring! The whole economy crashed!”

“Look, I really need to get this finished. How about you do some more job hunting?”

“Right. I’ve always got a lot to learn. I’m always a couple steps behind you. I get it, you grew up strapped for cash—”

“ ‘Strapped for cash’? Parker, the fact that you even said it that way means you cannot possibly get what it means to grow up like I did, the embarrassment, the fear, the—”

“Well, it’s not my fault that my…” he started to interrupt, and then stopped himself.

“You gonna finish that sentence? Or can I finish mine?”

“Tell you what, I’ll let you get your homework done.”

“No, no, go ahead. Finish your thought. Maybe something about my family and yours?”

He bit his lip.

“I love your parents, Parker, and I am grateful you grew up happy and safe. I didn’t, okay? We weren’t strapped for cash. We were one step ahead of eviction a dozen times, we did have to move a lot, and my god, my father nearly broke me emotionally, he did break my mom, and guess what? I still love them both. Mmmmmmkay?”

He nodded.

“So you fuckin’ keep my father’s name out of your mouth. Mmmmmmmmmmkay?”

“You draw that word out any longer and you’ll be practically self-parodying, hon.”

She slammed her book closed.

“I was trying to break the tension!”

“By making fun of how I talk?”

“Not making fun. I was just thinking of that scene from The Wire, where they make fun of how Clay Davis says ‘shit’.”

“So you’re not making fun of me, you’re talking about HBO, which I will never be able to afford—”

“My family doesn’t have HBO, we have Netflix! Only the three-DVD-at-a-time plan, too!”

She rubbed her forehead, and her hand came away glistening with sweat. “You know, that’s the lamest possible defense you coulda made?”

“Well, that’s a real compliment—”

“No, hear me out. It’s so lame that it actually made me smirk a little, y’know? It’s nice, takes the edge off the anger a little. But that’s your cue to leave the room, boyo. Quit while you’re marginally less behind.”

“Conversation postponed,” he said.

But he left the room.

-----------------------------------------------

Me and my girl, we got this relationship

 

A few hours later, Meagan came into to the living room and said, “Hey. So it’s late and I’m hungry and I don’t wanna cook. So I’ve got an idea but it’s gonna sound pretty stupid after I yelled at you for getting ice cream.”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza. I know that it’s not at all fair of me, but—”

“Don’t care. I will always accept pizza.” He closed his laptop on his resume.

She grinned. “Half pepperoni and half double cheese?”

“You remembered.”

“Mmkay! I’ll call them now. But we should go pick it up instead of paying for delivery.”

“Want me to go get it?”

“Nah, I can go. I wanna get out of the apartment anyway.”

“Want me to go with you, then?”

She hesitated. “Yeah.”

She called, placed the order, and then announced, “They said twenty minutes. Let’s go.”

“It’s a five-minute drive.”

“Yeah. Let’s go anyway.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Well, feel.”

A few minutes later they drove through Ann Arbor, every window cranked all the way down, Meagan at the wheel. She took them on a somewhat roundabout route. The evening air was cooler and the breeze cooler still.

“This feels amazing,” Parker said. “Good idea, hon.”

“Thanks.”

“When we get the pizza, let’s not even go home. Let’s just keep driving. Unless you’re worried about gas?”

“I get pretty good mileage. The advantages of stick shift, and knowing how to use it.”

“You’re still on driving duty, then.”

“Thanks,” she said, and managed to make it both sarcastic and appreciative all at once.

Pizza acquired, Meagan at the wheel, they rolled southwest on Liberty Street. Needing both hands to shift and steer, Meagan asked, “A little help here?”

“Pepperoni or cheese first?”

“Surprise me.”

He fed her a slice of double cheese, his personal favorite, carefully holding the slice up so the grease didn’t dribble on her shorts despite her giggling.

Not so hot, not so hungry, they kept heading out of the city. Liberty Street became Liberty Road. The sun was setting, but north of true west, so not quite directly into their eyes.

“I’m sorry I made you mad,” Parker said.

“It’s okay,” Meagan answered. “I get why you did it. And we’ll definitely eat the ice cream. Although not tonight, I think this pizza is enough for me.” She paused. “I’m sorry I jumped down your throat about it.”

The tension in Parker’s gut eased. But only slightly, and he wondered why.

She’s not apologizing for what she said to me, just for how she said it.

They didn’t talk much, just “Pass me another slice?” or “I wish this sunset were more dramatic” and the like.

Finally Meagan pulled over. “Time to head back, I gotta pee,” she said. She gave him a sidelong glance. “Um, unless you want to do something with that? It’s kinda our traditional make-up sex…”

Not sure we really made up. Thoughts started swirling in his head, however.

“Hey, earth to Parker? Should we head back?”

“Oh! Sorry, yeah, let’s head back. And yeah, I’d like that. But it’s still the weekend. Let’s do it tomorrow. I’ve got some ideas.”

“Mmkay.”

Back in the apartment, Meagan hopped in the shower for a minute, and then came back to the bedroom in just her towel, not even dry. They’d set up a window fan in the bedroom, and she cranked it to high and dropped the towel, standing before the artificial breeze buck naked and dripping wet.

“God that feels good,” she said. “Now I can get to sleep.” And, still not completely dry, she lay down bare on the bed, no sheet over her, to let the fan keep blowing across her bare skin. Parker lay down next to her. Despite her trick, it was still too hot to cuddle, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway.

He lay awake, pondering. And planning.

 

--------------------------

Yeah, folks, this one could be a little tougher.

 

[warham1995 1,256]

yay, more meg and parker even if it is starting out badly for them so far, also how many arguments have they had just curious. 

Edited July 14, 2023 by warham1995 (see edit history)

[Weasel 1,015]

9 minutes ago, warham1995 said:

yay,more meg and parker even if it is starting out badly for them so far, also how many arguments have they had just curious. 

How many? At this point they've been dating for over three years, so they've had quite a few. I don't always write them in, of course, but I've included a couple. Particularly the big one at the end of season one, after Dacy told her story, and then all the tension over their future in season three.

Bonus points to the first person to correctly name who I'm quoting lyrics from.

---------------------------------------------------

Oh, take this veil from off my eyes
My burning sun will someday rise

He woke up first. It wasn’t too bad in the apartment, but when he pulled out his laptop and checked the weather, he saw it was going to be a scorcher, up to 95. [35 to non-Americans]

Once Meagan woke up and used the bathroom, he made breakfast for them, frying her an egg just the way she liked it. The better the mood she’s in, the more likely she’ll go for this…

“So what’s on your mind?” she asked.

“The usual trade,” he said. “I decide when you pee, you decide when I come.”

“So far so good. But what else?”

“All day.”

She sat back in her chair. “Whew. That’s… a lot.” But she had that look in her eye.

“Seems like a good challenge, huh?” he said, casually.

“It does. It really does.”

“Oh, one other thing. We can dress each other. Pick out each other’s outfits, I mean.”

“Hmmm. If we’re adding new conditions, I’ve got one as well, but let’s deal with yours first. What did you have in mind for me?”

“A sundress.” A yellow sundress with a red bra underneath, like the girl I saw on the street the other day…

She shook her head. “Can’t do it, lover, sorry.”

“No?”

“Don’t own any sundresses.”

“Do you even have any skirts?”

“Have you met me?”

“I kinda want to see you in one, now.”

“Well, I’m not gonna run out and buy a sundress. But I gotta admit, the airflow would be welcome, day like today. How about…” She rummaged through the drawers. “How about this?” She held up a piece of cloth, and then demonstrated wrapping it around her waist. “Oh, wow. Didn’t realize how thin it was.”

“Looks fine to me!” Parker said promptly.

“Hah, well, not outside, okay?” She tied the cloth’s corners on her hip. “Now, for tops…”

Parker reached past her. “This. Definitely this.”

“I’m gonna need more than a bra,” she said, putting it on.

“Then… the smallest tank top you have.”

“Like this one?”

“The green clashes slightly, but that’ll work.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want much more than this in the heat anyway.” She pulled it over her head. “Now, what do I want you in? Something nice and tight, I think. Jeans. With a belt.”

“Most of my jeans are pretty relaxed.”

“I know, it’s a crime. We’ll have to double down on the belt, then.” She threaded it for him and set it one notch tighter than he usually did.

They started slow. Since it was going to be so hot in the afternoon, far too hot to cook, Meagan proposed that they make cold pasta salad. This meant cooking the pasta in the morning and letting it cool all day in the fridge. And since they’d gotten started on dinner prep at 9 in the morning, it made sense to also chop up the cheese and veggies they would put into the pasta. After that Meagan did some homework and Parker prowled the internet.

But Meagan left her water bottle in the fridge all day, so that every time she was thirsty she had to stand up from the kitchen table and get the bottle out. And every time she did, she made eye contact with him, calling his name if he wasn’t paying attention, holding the contact right through drinking. By lunchtime, Parker could see that she was already starting to tense up.

Just before lunch, he got up and headed to the bathroom.

“Wait a second,” Meagan said. “I forgot to tell you my extra condition.”

“Oh?” he said, paused with his hand on the bathroom doorframe.

“I decide when you come, right? Well, I want total control over that. You can’t touch yourself at all. Not even to pee.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” he asked.

She got up and came over. “I’ll hold it for you, doofus. Acceptable?”

He shivered a little, and definitely not from cold. “Acceptable.”

She steered him to the toilet and stood behind him. She draped her arms around his waist, pushing gently against his back with her boobs, and his butt with her crotch. Then she undid his belt and his fly and pulled his cock out. He was slightly chubby, and grew more so at her touch, but this wasn’t a big problem. When she got him aimed properly, she said, “Go ahead.” And he let go.

She giggled as she directed the stream, making figure-8s with the splash. As he trailed off, she gave him a couple squeezes to get the last drops out. Then the squeezes turned into a slow stroke.

“That was fun,” she whispered into his ear. “Makes me wish I could pee too. But I can’t, now can I?”

“Technically speaking, you may not,” he replied, stiffening rapidly.

“Not until you say so.”

“Darn straight.”

“Gonna make me wait a long, long time?”

“I am.”

“So am I,” she said, and tucked his hard-on back into his boxers. She re-did his jeans and belt, again a notch tighter than usual.

Lunch was sandwiches. Parker had gotten his heart set on grilled cheese, but it was already getting too warm in the apartment for any cooking. Instead he just did a PB&B (peanut butter and banana). Meagan ate leftover pizza—and kept drinking.

As they washed up afterwards, Meagan wriggled a bit at the sound of the running water. Parker grinned.

Turning, she saw it. “You know what?” she said.

“No, what?” he said, playing along.

“I kinda need to pee!”

“Only ‘kinda’?” he said. “Better keep drinking, then.”

“Oh, I will,” she said. “I’ll make you a deal, in fact.”

“Hmm?”

“Let me tease you for a bit and I’ll chug my entire bottle.”

“Tease me how?”

“Well, technically speaking,” she said, crossing her legs, “I’ve already started.”

“I like the sound of this.”

“Do we have a deal?”

“We do.”

Legs still crossed, she bent forward slightly. “I know what you’re gonna say,” she said, “but I’m gonna ask anyway, just so you can say no. Can—sorry, may I please pee?”

He shivered. “No.”

“When will I get to?”

“Not for a while,” he said.

“Oh, come on! You know it’s harder to hold when you don’t know how long it’s gonna take!”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

She stepped closer to him and ran a finger along the bulge in his jeans. “You liked that. Me begging.”

“I did.”

“Wasn’t asking, just observing. This did all the talking,” she said, stroking him through the denim. With her free hand, she took one of his and ran it along her thigh, through the thin fabric of her makeshift skirt, and then up onto her belly. “Feel that?” she said. “Those tight muscles? That’s what you’re doing to me. What you’re making me hold.” He stiffened more, hard-on straining at the belt and the jeans, and she rubbed faster. He groaned.

“You want to come?” she asked. “I could make you come right now. And then I could pee.”

He thought about it for a second. “No. You can’t pee yet.”

“Then you don’t get to come,” she said, and stepped back from him.

“Drink up.”

“Oh, I’m not done teasing you yet,” she said. She ran her hands over her breasts. “Would you like to see me?”

“I can see you pretty well already,” he said.

“You sure about that?” she said, and flashed him. The red of her bra blinked into sight and back out again.

“I can see a lot of cleavage already,” he amended.

“Seeing is one thing. Coming there is another. Wanna fuck my tits?”

“I usually do, yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll think about that. Haven’t decided where I want you to come. Would you like to come in me?”

“That’s always fun.”     

“Well, yeah. But I won’t be able to hold both you and all that pee. Which would mean we’d have to wrap this up sooner rather than later. So maybe…?” she hinted.

“Oh, in that case the answer’s easy,” he said. “Definitely not. You are gonna have to wait. And hold it.”

“I’m already holding it.”

“This? This is nothing, yet.”

“In that case, this is nothing, either.”

With that implied threat, she went back to her books. He didn’t; he just kept watching her. Homework was clearly not holding her attention. She shifted restlessly in her seat, casually crossing her legs, then recrossing. She yawned twice, and then said, “I’m gonna take a nap for a while. Want to join me?”

“I’ll stay out here,” he said. “Sleep well.”

 

Edited July 14, 2023 by Weasel (see edit history)

[warham1995 1,256]

okay  thanks, are you going to write anymore stories after the end of the 4 seasons series?

[Weasel 1,015]

Probably not. I have other (non-omo) writing projects that I really need to spend more time on.

But then, this is part 4 of a three-part series, so...who knows!

[warham1995 1,256]

 okay, that's fine,  but I'm sure that they will find a way to apologize and forgive each other and hopefully not break up with each other even if that is what happens in relationships irl.

Edited July 15, 2023 by warham1995 (see edit history)

[phile474917 24]

3 hours ago, Weasel said:

Hey, everyone. Here's chapter 3 of Four Seasons.

-------------------------------------

Summertime, and the livin’s easy

Parker hustled inside the apartment. It was no cooler inside than out, so he moved at high speed for the kitchen.

“Hey,” Meagan said, not looking up from her book.

“How’s your day been?” he asked.

“Hot and frustrating,” she said. “This homework… the only good thing about it is it doesn’t involve my laptop. I don’t want any more heat sources in here right now.”

“Then I have just the thing for you,” he said, and pulled it out from the bag.

She didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“Two words: Moose Tracks.”

She looked up at last. Her eyebrows went up a little further than the rest. “Ice cream?”

“Not just ice cream. Your favorite ice cream.”

She sighed and looked back at her book.

He popped the ice cream in the freezer. “You’re welcome.”

She sighed again. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Just trying to help.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “By buying junk food.”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise!”

“Parker, you know we can’t afford that.”

“It was just three dollars. Not about to break the bank.”

“But it’s never ‘just’ three dollars, Parker,” she said. “It’s a whole fuckin’ bunch of dollars. Three, five, ten… it all adds up. How many times have you run over budget so far, huh?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Parker said. “Let me get this straight. I bought ice cream. For three dollars. To cheer you up. And I’ve been home for two minutes and we’re arguing about money and how financially irresponsible I am.”

“You’re not irresponsible, Parker, you just have a lot to learn. Especially when I’m the only one with any income.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault nobody’s hiring! The whole economy crashed!”

“Look, I really need to get this finished. How about you do some more job hunting?”

“Right. I’ve always got a lot to learn. I’m always a couple steps behind you. I get it, you grew up strapped for cash—”

“ ‘Strapped for cash’? Parker, the fact that you even said it that way means you cannot possibly get what it means to grow up like I did, the embarrassment, the fear, the—”

“Well, it’s not my fault that my…” he started to interrupt, and then stopped himself.

“You gonna finish that sentence? Or can I finish mine?”

“Tell you what, I’ll let you get your homework done.”

“No, no, go ahead. Finish your thought. Maybe something about my family and yours?”

He bit his lip.

“I love your parents, Parker, and I am grateful you grew up happy and safe. I didn’t, okay? We weren’t strapped for cash. We were one step ahead of eviction a dozen times, we did have to move a lot, and my god, my father nearly broke me emotionally, he did break my mom, and guess what? I still love them both. Mmmmmmkay?”

He nodded.

“So you fuckin’ keep my father’s name out of your mouth. Mmmmmmmmmmkay?”

“You draw that word out any longer and you’ll be practically self-parodying, hon.”

She slammed her book closed.

“I was trying to break the tension!”

“By making fun of how I talk?”

“Not making fun. I was just thinking of that scene from The Wire, where they make fun of how Clay Davis says ‘shit’.”

“So you’re not making fun of me, you’re talking about HBO, which I will never be able to afford—”

“My family doesn’t have HBO, we have Netflix! Only the three-DVD-at-a-time plan, too!”

She rubbed her forehead, and her hand came away glistening with sweat. “You know, that’s the lamest possible defense you coulda made?”

“Well, that’s a real compliment—”

“No, hear me out. It’s so lame that it actually made me smirk a little, y’know? It’s nice, takes the edge off the anger a little. But that’s your cue to leave the room, boyo. Quit while you’re marginally less behind.”

“Conversation postponed,” he said.

But he left the room.

-----------------------------------------------

Me and my girl, we got this relationship

 

A few hours later, Meagan came into to the living room and said, “Hey. So it’s late and I’m hungry and I don’t wanna cook. So I’ve got an idea but it’s gonna sound pretty stupid after I yelled at you for getting ice cream.”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza. I know that it’s not at all fair of me, but—”

“Don’t care. I will always accept pizza.” He closed his laptop on his resume.

She grinned. “Half pepperoni and half double cheese?”

“You remembered.”

“Mmkay! I’ll call them now. But we should go pick it up instead of paying for delivery.”

“Want me to go get it?”

“Nah, I can go. I wanna get out of the apartment anyway.”

“Want me to go with you, then?”

She hesitated. “Yeah.”

She called, placed the order, and then announced, “They said twenty minutes. Let’s go.”

“It’s a five-minute drive.”

“Yeah. Let’s go anyway.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Well, feel.”

A few minutes later they drove through Ann Arbor, every window cranked all the way down, Meagan at the wheel. She took them on a somewhat roundabout route. The evening air was cooler and the breeze cooler still.

“This feels amazing,” Parker said. “Good idea, hon.”

“Thanks.”

“When we get the pizza, let’s not even go home. Let’s just keep driving. Unless you’re worried about gas?”

“I get pretty good mileage. The advantages of stick shift, and knowing how to use it.”

“You’re still on driving duty, then.”

“Thanks,” she said, and managed to make it both sarcastic and appreciative all at once.

Pizza acquired, Meagan at the wheel, they rolled southwest on Liberty Street. Needing both hands to shift and steer, Meagan asked, “A little help here?”

“Pepperoni or cheese first?”

“Surprise me.”

He fed her a slice of double cheese, his personal favorite, carefully holding the slice up so the grease didn’t dribble on her shorts despite her giggling.

Not so hot, not so hungry, they kept heading out of the city. Liberty Street became Liberty Road. The sun was setting, but north of true west, so not quite directly into their eyes.

“I’m sorry I made you mad,” Parker said.

“It’s okay,” Meagan answered. “I get why you did it. And we’ll definitely eat the ice cream. Although not tonight, I think this pizza is enough for me.” She paused. “I’m sorry I jumped down your throat about it.”

The tension in Parker’s gut eased. But only slightly, and he wondered why.

She’s not apologizing for what she said to me, just for how she said it.

They didn’t talk much, just “Pass me another slice?” or “I wish this sunset were more dramatic” and the like.

Finally Meagan pulled over. “Time to head back, I gotta pee,” she said. She gave him a sidelong glance. “Um, unless you want to do something with that? It’s kinda our traditional make-up sex…”

Not sure we really made up. Thoughts started swirling in his head, however.

“Hey, earth to Parker? Should we head back?”

“Oh! Sorry, yeah, let’s head back. And yeah, I’d like that. But it’s still the weekend. Let’s do it tomorrow. I’ve got some ideas.”

“Mmkay.”

Back in the apartment, Meagan hopped in the shower for a minute, and then came back to the bedroom in just her towel, not even dry. They’d set up a window fan in the bedroom, and she cranked it to high and dropped the towel, standing before the artificial breeze buck naked and dripping wet.

“God that feels good,” she said. “Now I can get to sleep.” And, still not completely dry, she lay down bare on the bed, no sheet over her, to let the fan keep blowing across her bare skin. Parker lay down next to her. Despite her trick, it was still too hot to cuddle, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway.

He lay awake, pondering. And planning.

 

--------------------------

Yeah, folks, this one could be a little tougher.

Great writing as usual. And is that a Lana Del Rey song reference in the title?

Edited July 15, 2023 by phile474917 (see edit history)

[Weasel 1,015]

23 hours ago, phile474917 said:

Great writing as usual. And is that a Lana Del Rey song reference in the title?

Thank you! But I was thinking of the Sublime song that Lana Del Rey covered. (She did a great job, though.) And of course "summertime, and the living's easy" is from Porgy and Bess.

Here we go, folks. Into the tunnel...

 

----------------------------------

 

3pm. The apartment was hotter than ever. Sweat beaded on Parker’s chest, then trickled down to his tightened belt. The fan was running, but it was getting to the point of only moving hot air around. He went over to the sink and ran some water over his wrists, then went to stand in front of the fan to let the evaporation cool him. It felt good, but wasn’t enough; he stripped off his t-shirt, splashed water on his chest, and repeated the process.

“Gonna put that shirt back on?” Meagan asked from the bedroom door. She was standing with her legs crossed, hands gripping the doorframe.

“Do I have to?”

“You have your choice. Whatever you do, I’ll do too. So both shirts off or both shirts on.”

He stalled for a moment. “Sleep okay?”

“Slept way longer than I planned,” she said.

“How on earth did you drop off when you’ve got to pee like that?”

“It’s just really hot. So. Shirt decision?”

He mulled it over. “I like that tank top on you, I really do…”

She grinned. “I’ll bet you like it off me even better, though.”

“Actually,” he said, “it makes you hotter.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Really. Hotter than just a bra.”

“Oh, sorry, that was confusing. I mean it makes you literally physically warmer. Which means you’ll need to drink more water to stay cool. So I think I want you to keep it on.”

She groaned.

“For now,” he added.

Looking fairly exasperated, she got her water bottle from the fridge. She also looked a little stiff; she was totally locked down.

“Unless you want to do the water-on-the-wrists trick,” he said.

She shook her head.

“It’s quite refreshing, really!” he pointed out helpfully.

“No thanks,” she said.

“No, no, I insist,” he said. “You look so—warm. Come on, just a little water.”

“I got enough water right here,” she said, swigging some. “And—oof—down here, too…”

“That water’s probably much too warm,” he pointed out.

“It’s definitely warming me up,” she admitted. “The effort of holding it…”  

“Well, in that case,” he said, “we’ve got to cool you down some other way. Let me get an ice cube.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What?” he asked, faking innocence.

“I do not trust you with ice cubes right now. You’re gonna drop them down my top or something.”

“Well, you look so flushed. I really want you to cool down somehow. So it’s the ice or water on your wrists.”

“Really? Those are my only options? Why don’t you fan me with that shirt that you’re still not wearing? That would cool me off.”

“Yes, but it would warm me up,” he pointed out. “Besides, I’m putting it back on, look. So: ice or water?”

She reluctantly came over to the sink.

“Just your wrists under the water for a few seconds,” he coaxed, and turned on the tap.

She jumped, writhed. Legs crossed instantly. Head thrown back, groaning again. He turned the water off.

“You are evil today,” she muttered, glaring.

For a brief second a memory flashed through Parker’s mind: a video he’d seen online during one of his internet porn searches. A girl in a car, desperate to pee, going through contortions and (exaggerated? real? likely both) facial expressions of absolute agony, with an extremely dramatic Evanescence song laid over the otherwise silent video. Parker had laughed at the time—how over the top! But in that moment, in their overheating kitchen with Meagan already nearly frantic before him, he suddenly felt extremely determined to put her into that level of agony, for real.

She hadn’t left the sink yet—or uncrossed her legs. “Fan’s over there,” he said helpfully.

“I can’t move, dumbass,” she said.

“Oh, I know you better than that,” he said lightly. “You’re not so desperate you can’t walk three steps.”

She shot him another you’re so evil look—and uncrossed her legs to walk the three steps. She even stood legs apart as the air blew across her body (including the dampened wrists). But he saw the shudder that ran through her.     

“Okay,” Meagan said, “I’m gonna get you for that.”

“I expect you will.”

“Lie down on the floor, face down.”

“Huh?”

“I’m teasing you, asshole. Face down.”

He did, wondering where she was going with this—and then he felt her kneel down on top of him. Straddling him, in fact. And he felt her squirming like mad. She pressed her crotch against his butt, grinding against him. She gasped—from getting turned on? From being so desperate? Probably some of both. He could feel the quivering of her muscles as she strained to hold it. Then she lay down on him, still grinding, now with the whole length of her body. She ran her hands down his arms and took his hands in hers. Her breath caught as she struggled; she squeezed his fingers involuntarily as she clamped down. He could feel her nipples hardening—through two shirts and her bra.

And he felt himself hardening, too. Only his hard-on was caught between his body, his belt, and the linoleum of the kitchen floor. It was a painfully awkward angle. But when he tried to get a hand free to adjust himself, she kept him in her clutches. And as soon as he tried to shift, she bore down against his butt all the more strongly. And then thrust. Several times.

“I gotta go, I gotta go, I gotta go,” she chanted in his ear. “I gotta go so bad.”

Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing…     

After a minute or two of this, she said, “Roll over,” and shifted her weight off him. He rolled.

As she came into view, he drank in the vision. She was shivering, shuddering. And he couldn’t remember ever seeing quite that expression in her eyes.

With one hand she undid his belt and unzipped his jeans again. She didn’t release him from his boxers, which were tenting like crazy. Instead she stroked him through the fabric. Her other hand went under her improvised skirt. She was holding herself.

“Parker,” she said softly, “I will fuck you until you burst. Right now. Right here on the kitchen floor. If you let me pee first.”

He shook his head. No.

“I will fuck you until I burst. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold it, with you inside me, of even if I can fit you in. But I’ll last as long as I can.”

So tempting. But no. And he shook his head again.

“Oh, come on!” she said. She kept rubbing his hard-on. “Please? You know how good it would feel. How tight I’d be.”

His balls were starting to ache. “No,” he said. “All day means all day. You have to wait.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned.

“You’ve held it longer than this,” he said.

“Maybe, but I haven’t peed since I got up and I’ve been chugging water like crazy…”

“Yeah, but you’re sweating, too. Hold it,” Parker said, firmly.

“You better be enjoying this, asshole,” she said through gritted teeth.

He slid himself out from underneath her and got to his feet. “I am enjoying it. Just look,” he said, pointing to his protruding erection. “I’m gonna need your help here, you know. Can’t zip up without touching myself.”

Meagan was still on her knees. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered. “I have to pee like… like you wouldn’t believe…”

“I can believe quite a bit,” Parker said. “Hold it. Even if it means you have to keep grabbing yourself like a little girl.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from herself. Even more slowly she got to her feet. And stepped close enough to him to do up his zipper and his belt. Her eyes were… fierce. “Enjoy every second, fucker.”  

“I can’t touch myself. But can I make things harder on myself?” he asked.

She cocked her head, puzzled. “Say what?”

“If I looked at some porn, say.”

Her eyes widened. Shocked. And angry.

“No objection?” he said, and sat down to his laptop.

“Dude, if you wanna see tits…” she said, furiously, and pulled her shirt off.

He glanced. “Seen ‘em,” he said.

She froze in the act of unhooking her bra.

“If you want to impress me,” he said, “don’t let me see them. Turn me on with your boobs, but don’t let me see them.”

“Oh, you want a striptease?” she asked, eyes flashing dangerously.   

“Just be creative. Oh, and drink more.”

She whined. Literally whined. And turned to the fridge to drink more.

As she did, he got up, walked into the living room, and sat down on the couch. She poked her head around the doorframe, water bottle in hand. “Where are you—?” Since the answer was obvious, she didn’t finish the question.

“The couch is more comfy than the kitchen chairs,” he said. “And the light’s better.”

“It is if we leave the blinds open!”

“Your point?”

“We’re not doing this with the blinds open.”

“Well, come on in and close them, then!”

She quickly walked across the room in her bra and improvised skirt, and pulled the front window blinds shut. Then, without turning, she reached up behind her and unhooked her bra. She let it slide off her shoulders, and then let it fall. She began to dance, to no music or rhythm but her own desperation. Sometimes it was an elegant twist or step. Sometimes it was a panicked squirm. Gradually she turned to face him. Her hands were thrust deep into her crotch, through the thin fabric that was the only clothing she still wore. Her arms were covering her nipples, just barely. She glided, she writhed, she shimmied, she squirmed. He stiffened, again.

“You want to ask me something?” he said.

“Can I please please please pee now?” she said.

“No,” he said.

“Parker, it hurts.”

“My balls hurt, too.”

She didn’t grin—she bared her teeth. “So that’s how it is,” she said. “Good. Pain for pain. Both of us with our twisted kinks.”

“That’s how it is.”

“What do I have to do so I can pee?”

“You’ll see.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll do what I want you to do eventually.”

“You want me to piss myself? Is that it? Humiliate myself completely?”

“Humiliate yourself? Oh yes. But I don’t want you to piss your skirt,” he said.

“Oh, so if I took it off…?” She was pacing frantically.

“No. Leave it on. But do not wet your skirt.”

“Just tell me, you sicko! What the fuck do you want me to do?”

“ ‘Sicko’, huh? You’ll regret saying that. But for now, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Parker, I’m so confused.”

“Are you desperate? Are you helpless? Are you right on the edge, can’t do a thing to save yourself?”     

“Yes. Yes. All of that. Yes.” She was shifting from foot to foot so quickly, she was practically jogging in place. And she was panting with effort.  

“That’s what I want. I want you powerless. I want you to piss completely out of control.”

“There’s… one… last… thing… I can… do…” she gasped.

“Hmm?”

“Myself.” Her fingers were already moving fast. Her eyes were half-closed in arousal, but he saw she kept sneaking glances at his crotch. His bulge was quite obvious.

He stood up and undid his belt. “Dude,” she gasped, protesting.

“I just want you to see what you’re doing to me,” he said, managing to keep his voice under control, and undid his fly. “Look, no touching.”

Her body bucked through her moans, and she nearly toppled over. He caught her, feeling the spasms racking her from head to toe.

“Did you pee?” he asked.

“No… but… it’s coming…” She started to undo the knot that held up her fabric sarong—in the process revealing her boobs in full for the first time.

“Leave it on!” he ordered.

She kept untying, but her fingers were fumbling.

He spanked her, direct on her right cheek. “I said leave it on!”

“But… you said… don’t wet…”

“Hold it!” he barked.

“I can’t…”

“Hold it now! Use your hand!”

“I’m trying…”

She reached for herself, but even as she did, he heard a spurt.

“I didn’t say you could pee!” he snapped, and spanked her again, twice.

On the second slap, her flood burst loose. She snatched the fabric up and out of the way, threading the needle of his instructions at last. Her stream poured down her legs. He started jacking off furiously. She sank to her knees, still peeing full force.

He aimed and came onto her boobs.

For a split second he considered peeing on her. But instead he walked to the bathroom and cleaned his pipes into the toilet as normal.

When he was finished and looked back into the living room, she was still kneeling in her own puddle. He grabbed a towel (his towel) and went to hand it to her. As he did, he realized she was still shaking.

Then he realized she was crying.

The anger left him in an instant. Sympathy replaced it—with a gnawing feeling underneath. He crouched down. “Hey,” he said. “Here’s a towel…”

She didn’t move.

He let the towel drop, quickly went back to the bathroom, wetting his washcloth, and hurried back to her side. He crouched down again and gently wiped away his spunk from her breast.

She flinched away from his touch.

“Meagan…?”

------------------------------------

Parker sat on the back step, waiting. Out on the horizon, barely visible between the buildings and trees, heat lightning flickered.

The back screen door opened. Meagan came out. She’d been showering for close to half an hour.  

He looked up at her. She looked back down, eyes still red from tears. She must have been sobbing in the shower the whole time. She didn’t look angry. Instead she look wrenched. Gut-punched.

I was ready for her to be angry at me. I deserve it.

What do I say if she’s just sad?

“Saved you a seat,” he said, very quietly, patting the step next to him.

She walked down the stairs and leaned against the wall instead, looking out at the lightning. They didn’t say anything for a long minute.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, facing the storm. It sounded horribly small.  

She didn’t say anything for so long he wondered if she’d even heard him. Just as he was about to say it again, she spoke, equally quietly.

“How did we get back here again?”

The dread he’d been feeling since he’d seen her tears surged forward.  

They looked out at the horizon and watched the storm pass them by.

 

[warham1995 1,256]

i hope everything will be okay between them eventually. also damn bro, you messed up and went too far,  probably making her afraid of you in the process all because you were angry.

Edited July 16, 2023 by warham1995 (see edit history)

[Weasel 1,015]

So as I originally wrote it, I was gonna leave this as a cliffhanger. But it may not be until October before I post chapter 4 ("Falling Fast"). I could do some of that chapter now if people want an immediate resolution to this. What do y'all say?

A: Leave it until fall, it's super-dramatic!

B: Post the first part of "Falling Fast" now, I can't stand the suspense!

 

3...2...1...vote.

[warham1995 1,256]

a

[Subaru 218]

b

[Ajeje 13]

B

[Nisha 0]

B

[Valentoon 18]

B!

[Bismiris 287]

A. I can wait.

[Weasel 1,015]

Since it's 3 to 2, I'll leave the voting open another day or so.

By the way, I'm still thinking about writing Season 2 of Pi Sigma Sigma, but life is pretty strange right now and I don't know when (or if) it'll settle down. I may be hard pressed to get Four Seasons finished by fall, and that's taking priority over the other series.

[orangelion 456]

A

[warham1995 1,256]

sorry life is so strange, bro. hope you feel better.

Edited July 23, 2023 by warham1995 (see edit history)

[david_578 14]

B.

While of course conscious of the fact that Meagan and Parker are fictional, I still hate how he hyped his justifiable frustration to the level of abusing her... emotionally and perhaps verbally.  I'm not complaining about the story being written the way it was... if the characters are that way, and have those problems, then write it true to the characters, you know?  But just like a real life couple, when the conflict has peaked worse than before, sometimes there might be consequences... something might break... whether an emotional realization and breakthrough that actually allows things to heal and get out of a cycle... or the obvious escape valve they've left open this whole time by not being more committed, not married or engaged, etc., this acting out Parker did in reacting to Meagan being a bit unreasonable could be an indication he's subconsciously ready for a breakup, or unhappy with the lack of commitment, etc.  The way they lashed out at each other, it feels like maybe it can't last after all?

And neither of these could be true.  You hinted in posing this poll that you already know the next step in the story of these characters.  So my vote is for wanting to know sooner rather than later.  They may be fictional, but they are real in our imaginations, and I cast my vote to find out what happens to them after this fight and the abusing they did to each other... then the rest of what this leads to later in the Fall season story can wait until the Fall as planned.

Of course if the vote goes the other way, or you as a writer decide to leave the suspense as originally planned no matter how the poll goes... I will gladly read the next story whenever you write it... even if that is months from now. 🙂

[Weasel 1,015]

17 hours ago, warham1995 said:

sorry life is treating you like shit, bro. hope you feel better.

Thanks, but it's not necessarily shit... just strange. A few big transitions, some good and some bad, and likely more coming.

 

14 hours ago, david_578 said:

While of course conscious of the fact that Meagan and Parker are fictional, I still hate how he hyped his justifiable frustration to the level of abusing her... emotionally and perhaps verbally.  I'm not complaining about the story being written the way it was... if the characters are that way, and have those problems, then write it true to the characters, you know?  But just like a real life couple, when the conflict has peaked worse than before, sometimes there might be consequences... something might break...

Exactly. I wanted to write a genuine relationship. And genuine relationships end, more often than not.

The vote's still super-close, but @david_578, your comments just talked me into posting the next section. Which takes place over the next few days, so it really belongs in the summertime story anyway, rather than fall. So here goes.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

He woke up the next morning on the couch to the sound of a closing door.

He sat up, and his brain caught up. She’s gone.

Oh, thank God.

The night before, after the lightning had passed without a drop of rain, they’d scavenged some kind of supper. She’d said little, but hadn’t been totally silent. And the entire time he was waiting, silently begging, for her anger to begin.

Come on. Shout at me, throw things, hit me even. Show me I didn’t break you. Show me I didn’t snap you. Show me that I pushed you too far, but not so far you’ll never come back…

Instead she’d just been quiet. “Pass the salt, please,” etc. She’d brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, went to bed early. Didn’t tell him to stay away, but he’d exiled himself to the couch anyhow.

Please get mad at me.

Please get mad at me.

Please get mad at me.

So if she’d at last left the apartment and was gone, that was a beginning. Not a good beginning, but more familiar. More normal. Not that mouse-like skittish silence.

Not crying.
    
---------------------------------------------------------   

She didn’t come home all day. Or that night.

Good, he thought. Our first big fight, she was gone two days. She needs time to calm down enough to get angry. Besides, she’s got classes all day.

He spent the day working through every job search trick he could think of, and then he he scoured the internet for more ideas and tried those too. He honed his resume, then created four or five different versions of it. Then he watched movies until he nearly fell asleep, and then he put the laptop away, brushed his teeth, and went to sleep on the couch again. But he got out a spare sheet; he needed something across him to really sleep.

The next day he tried to make a better budget, but kept running aground on his awareness that (a) Meagan was much, much better at it and (b) on an income of zero dollars, no budget ever worked. Between that and the tension of hoping that Meagan would walk through the door at any moment and start screaming at him, he couldn’t focus on movies and just watched videos on YouTube until the network gave out, and then he archive-binged webcomics, and then he lay down on the couch for the third straight night.

But lying in the semi-dark of the apartment, his thoughts raced and raced and raced. The twisted reassurance of her absence had faded. Now he was just worried that she was never coming home. It made no sense, of course—there was no way she’d abandon her car. But:

“Promise me that you’ll stay with me as long as you want to,” she said. “And you’ll leave me the day—the minute—you no longer want to stay. As soon as I start to hurt you, as soon as it’s no longer good, make it quick, and just go.”

Finally, around 1am, he got up and turned the lights back on. She’d left her backpack, and he went around stuffing things into it: toothbrush and tampons, wallet and car keys, her ancient laptop and its charger, her favorite underwear and her favorite shirt. He set the backpack down by the door. Then he wrote a note, set it on top of the pack, and collapsed back onto the couch to sleep at last.

Meagan—

Here are some things you’ll probably want.
You don’t need to wake me up say goodbye unless you want to.
I’m so sorry. I’ll love you forever.

Parker

 

----------------------------------------

 

He awoke with Meagan’s arms around him, and he relaxed into her grasp—until he realized that he was still on the couch, and woke up the rest of the way as he floundered to his feet in confusion.

She woke up herself at that, and sat up, blinking. “Hey,” she said, quietly, muzzily.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you angry at me?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Thank God.”

She wrinkled her nose. “And good morning to you? I think?”

“I’d rather you were mad at me than at yourself,” he said. “I’d rather you were mad at me than broken.”

She slowly toppled over over onto her side. “Oof,” she said. “It’s too fuckin’ early for that level of emotion. Especially since the thing with the sheet.”

It was his turn to be confused. “Wait, what?”

“The sheet on the couch,” she said. “Means you’ve been sleeping on the couch since I left. Even though the bed was empty.”

He spread his hands. “I didn’t know when you’d come home.”

“Okay, if we’re gonna have this conversation now, I need coffee.”

“I’ll make some.”

“And a shower.”

“I’ll—um.”

She grinned, just a little. “Got you that time.”

By the time she came out, wrapped in a towel, the coffee was nearly ready. She took a quick sip before she even got as far as the bedroom to change. In the bedroom door she hesitated, just for a split second, and he leaped to his feet and headed for the living room, saying, “I won’t look!”

“Silly boy,” she called back to him. “Um—seems like some of my clothes are missing?”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, and grabbed the backpack from the door, and ran back into the kitchen.

“What the fuck—?” she said as he handed the backpack.  

“If you came back in the night and wanted to just get your stuff and go, but I was asleep, I wanted you to be able to grab a lot really quick. All the things I thought you’d need.”

“Okay, this I need to see,” she said, and dumped the contents of the bag out on the bed. “Tampons? You thought of tampons?”

He shrugged. “They seem important.”

“That they are. And here’s the shirt I was looking for… and, um, the bra…”

“Your favorites. Oh, uh, you don’t need the note anymore…”

She snatched it. Read it. Gave him a long look.

“I was just trying to help.”

She shook her head. “Fuck, lover. You don’t do anything by halves, do you.”

He shrugged.

“This is of course coming from the woman who just walked around campus for days,” she said.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“I napped in the library for a while.”

She dropped the towel. He started to leave the room, but she said, “It’s fine, hon, it really is.” So he stayed, but still didn’t look. He noticed, however, that she didn’t go to the dresser, meaning she was dressing herself entirely from the bag he’d packed for her.

“No socks?” she said.

“Damn it. I must have forgotten. It was past 1 in the morning…”

She shrugged. “Day like today, I can go barefoot.” She sighed. “That feels better.”

“Um. Do you want to talk now?”

“I want breakfast.”

“What do you want?”

“Just cereal is fine.”

“I can make you some eggs…”

“No, I just need something to shove in my mouth and stave off starvation.”

When they’d both eaten, and while he was washing up, she came and stood next to him at the sink. When he finished and set the last bowl in the disk rack to dry, she laid a light hand on his arm and said, “So hey. We need to talk.”

“We need to talk a lot.”

“But, uh, does it have to be right now? Because I really wish you could be kissing me. Can you just be kissing me now?”

“Really?”

She nodded.

He obliged.

“We’ll still… need… to talk,” he said, during the pauses.

“Uh-huh.”

“Like, we got some major issues…”

“Not… right… now.”

“Yeah, but, um… how far do you want this to go? Because you just took a shower and got dressed, so I’m guessing no sex…”

She pulled back. “I think we gotta wait on sex for a while,” she said.

“Well, yeah. I thought so. But, um, you were kinda feeling me up. And you just got dressed right in front of me, from being naked. So I was feeling some slightly mixed signals and I wanted to check.”

“Okay, see? This. This is what you should have—” She broke off.  

He waited.

“That’ll be one of the things we’ll need to talk about later,” she finished, awkwardly. And kissed him again, also awkwardly.

The rhythm was broken, and the making out tapered off.

“So,” he said.

“So?”

“Um. I know we’ll talk later, but, uh—are you breaking up with me?”

“That’s one of the things we need to talk about,” she said quietly.

His heart plunged through the floor toward the apartment below. “That’s a yes.”

“No, it’s a ‘We’ll talk later,’ ” she said firmly. She hesitated. “Are you breaking up with me?”

He sighed. “I really, really, really don’t want to,” he said.

“Not quite a no.”

“No. I mean, I agree.”

She flashed a grin at his confusion. “Okay. So we’re agreed on that. No breaking up until we’ve talked.”

“Agreed. But no sex.”

“No sex yet.”

“Kinda confusing, but I can work with it. Makeouts, however: yes.”

“Agreed.”

“Back rubs?”

“Massages in general: yes please. My feet and my legs are killing me.”

He started on her feet, knowing that doing those properly required his hands’ full strength. And then, when his thumbs could take no more, he started working on her calves, and then up to her… “Um, are you okay with me massaging your thighs?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Proximity.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Whew, you really are tight. You walked the entire time?”

“Well, I did go to classes yesterday.”

“Whew.”

“You were worried I was skipping class? With exams coming?”

“I was worried a lot. About a lot of things. Oh, hey, want to see my resume? I worked on it a lot while you were gone.”

“I will absolutely read it,” she said, “but not right now.”

“Okay. You’ve got class, right?”

She shook her head. “Not today, it’s our study day. So actually, I might just nap for a while…”

“Okay.”

When she woke up, she stretched and said, “It’s way too hot in here.”

“Yup.”

“You and I,” she said, “never do great in extreme heat.”

“Does anyone?”

“…Okay, fair point. But what I mean is that we should go someplace else. Somewhere with air conditioning. Then we can talk.”

“We’re gonna have a deeply emotional and intense conversation in public?”

“Well, we’ll do it quietly.”

“Art museum.”

“Hmm…? Oh! That’s a great idea. Let’s do it.”

They drove. It was not an impossibly long walk; but they drove anyway.

“Oooh, there’s a photography exhibit!”

“I know, that’s why I thought of it.”

They walked through the columns to the front door, and then drifted through the first floor galleries, barely even noticing the art at first, just reveling in the AC. The photography exhibit was on the second floor, though, so they took the elevator up and admired it; and then they found the vertical gallery and Meagan wanted to know how far down it went; and when they got to the bottom of it, they saw that there was one more level down, and down there at the bottom, with almost no one else around, Meagan sat herself down in a corner and patted the spot next to her, so they could both lean back and still see each other.

“I’ll go first,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Can you just listen for a bit?” she said, more wearily than angrily.

“Sor—” he snapped his mouth shut.

Her lips twitched in amusement, but nothing more. A moment later she said, “I’m sorry that I kept snapping at you about money. Nobody’s born knowing how to do it, and a lot of people never learn, and you’re trying. You’ve got a—no. I’m sorry for assuming you knew things, and then getting mad at you when it turned out you didn’t.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, even though no one seemed to be around. “And I’m sorry I called you a sicko. I promised myself after that time with Dacy that I’d never use your kink against you. But I did. It’s the kind of thing I used to do, before I met you. Use what the boys wanted against them. What I did there… that was evil.”

There was a long pause.

“You can ta—I mean, I’m done for now,” she said.

“Oh, okay.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I pushed you too far. Way too far. What I did to you was inexcusable.”

“It’s not what you did,” Meagan said, “it’s how you did it. We could have done that, done all of that, if we’d talked about it first and agreed to it. But we hadn’t. You were just being a bully.”

Anger surged. “So that. That right there,” Parker said. “You’re always treating me like I know nothing, jumping in to correct me. But then you’re usually right. So I really don’t know anything…”

“You’re right, too, though,” Meagan said. “I’ve always taken the lead. If I’m going to say we need to talk about things first, then we need to talk. Not just me telling you.”

“I’m not actually finished yet.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry about the ice cream, too.”

“The what—? Oh. Oh, Parker. That was so not a big deal—”

“But it was, though. I wanted to do something nice for you to cheer you up. So I could have asked. But instead I just went with what I thought would work. So it’s part of the not-talking. And you were right about the money. Again.”

“It wasn’t just the money,” Meagan said with a sigh. “True confessions?”

“Go ahead.”

“You brought out that ice cream and my thought process was literally If I eat that I’ll get fat and then he’ll leave me. That all went through my head in half a second. But I didn’t dare say that. You leaving me was too scary a thought. So instead I yelled at you. Projection.”

“But you’re still right about the money.”

“Money and sex,” Meagan said with another big sigh. “The two things that break up the most relationships.”

“Really?”

“Money is responsible for something like fifty percent of all divorces in this country, yeah.”

“Are they going to break us up?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

“Do you want to?”

Meagan spoke slowly, picking her words with great care. “If these problems keep coming up, then I think we should break up. If. They don’t have to. And I hope they don’t.”

Parker thought for a moment. “Speaking as someone who knows he’s got a lot to learn,” he said, with equal care, “I know I’m going to mess up a lot while I’m learning. So can we say that if we try—hold on. Let me put that differently. I know the problems will keep coming up while we learn how to deal with them. So can we say we’ll break up if we don’t get any better at dealing with the problems when they come up? Because they will.” He paused for a second. “Since nothing is ever perfect. Someone I know taught me that.”

“Damn,” Meagan said, with an appreciative lopsided grin, “look at you being so smart. Yes. That’s so much better than what I said.”

“It’s not a competition,” Parker said. “We both brought something to the table and we ended up with something better than before.”

“Which is how relationships are supposed to work,” Meagan said. “Can I kiss you, you smart man, you?”

“Only if I can kiss you back.”

“You may.”

“Let’s do it.”

When the kiss broke, she whispered to him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I really do.”

She scooted over so she could sit next to him, and draped her arm around his shoulders, and cuddled up close to him. “I don’t know when we’ll be able to cuddle like this again,” she said, “what with the weather.”

“We can always come back. Or find other air conditioning.”

“True. Very true. But I still want to make the most of it now.”

 

-------------------------------------------------------

 

That night, after some last-minute cramming, Meagan got ready for bed in the stinking heat of their apartment by taking another quick shower, and then coming into the bedroom dripping wet, as she had so often before on the hot nights—although she usually came in completely naked, without a towel around her waist as she had tonight. She stood in front of the window fan, arms spread, water droplets evaporating off her bare skin. And Parker stepped close behind her, placing his hands gently on her hips and kissing her shoulders. He heard her breathing change, just a little, and she bent her head slightly to bare her neck, so he started kissing that. She arched her back, flexed her fingers, and gave a little sigh. He slid one hand up her side to cup her breast…

And she jerked away from him.

“Sorry,” he whispered. (They were right in front of the window, of course, albeit with the blinds closed.)

“I… I didn’t…” she began, then rallied. “I didn’t know I was gonna react that way. Sorry.”

“I should have asked—”

“No, it should have been okay. You’ve done that hundreds of times, no problem. And I was enjoying the kissing.” She paused. “I think we need to wait on that a bit longer,” she said, in a small voice.

Sleeping in a bed with a partner who was uneasy about being touched was itself uneasy. Meagan’s body went from being a wonderland to a minefield.

But it was a little too hot to cuddle properly, anyway.

 

----------------------------------------------------------

 

“I need a job,” Parker said, two days later.

“You really do, hon.” Meagan was halfway through exams, but with the hardest class out of the way, she was already feeling more relaxed.

“There just aren’t that many jobs out there.”

“That’s true, but it’s not zero. You’re probably going to have to lower your standards, though. Barista. Waiter.”

“I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Well, give it a try. Any income at all will help.”

“I still want to try something with cameras, though.”

“Nothing wrong with trying,” Meagan said.

Parker threw himself into the search, but he quickly realized that so was everyone else. Every job he applied for was now demanding years of experience—if the bosses could only afford one or two employees, then they had to be the best. Parker applied anyway, and got almost zero callbacks.

But then, at the end of August, a small miracle: Photographer seeks assistant for temporary work. Parker applied immediately.

“Sure, son,” said the gruff voice on the other end of the line. “You sound like you know what you’re doing, but bring in your portfolio on Thursday and we can talk.”

“What kind of temporary work are we talking about?” Parker asked quickly.

“I’ve got to photograph every public school student on the west side,” the photographer said, “and I can’t stand little kids. I’ll do all the high schools but I need someone for the elementaries.”

“Portraiture, got it. See you Thursday,” Parker said.

When Meagan got back from her workout, Parker burst out, “I need a portraiture portfolio by Thursday!”

“Huh, I was just gonna say ‘hi,’ but I like this.”

“Sorry. Hi. I love you. Can I take, like, fifty headshots of you? Tonight?”

“Tonight? Does it have to be tonight?”

“I need to develop them tomorrow so I can take them in on Thursday. Unless you’ve got a digital camera hiding somewhere.”

“I’m kind of a mess right now…”

“Actually, that’s even better, because the kids won’t be perfect either.”

“Kids?”

So Parker quickly explained his breakthrough, and Meagan’s eyes lit up. “I get it,” she said. “And Parker, that’s… how many schools?”

When they looked it up, Meagan grinned. “That’s at least seven or eight schools. Probably nine. And then retakes later in the year. That’s at least a week of work, Parker. Not a lot, but something.”

“So I need to show him I can take decent pictures…”

“And so you need a portfolio, and so you need to take pictures of me.”

“You got it.”

“Okay. Sure, I’ll let you glamorize me to advance your career. But I insist on taking a shower first.”

They started simple, taking down a poster to use a bare white wall as background, and bringing in every lamp in the apartment that wasn’t attached, and then draping a white bedsheet over the lamps to diffuse the light, and then having Meagan sit in various poses, and after ten or twelve shots like that, both of them were a little bored and the roll wasn’t done and it was getting to be the “magic hour” outside, so they went out and took more pictures of each other to use up the film, and then they went to bed.

When Meagan came home from campus the next day, Parker met her at the door with his pictures: a dozen headshots of Meagan in different poses, in several sizes.

“Well, lover, I still think I look weird,” she said, flipping through them, “but I know it’s ‘cause it’s a mirror image of me, and I know that ‘cause you told me. And I gotta say everything else looks pretty good.”

“Which ones do you like the best?”

“Can I at least set down my bag first?”

“Here, let’s do the comparisons on the coffee table… I like this one.”

“That’s okay, but I think this one is better.”

“Well, but this angle…”

After they’d settled on eight to be his portfolio, Parker pulled out the other pictures they’d taken.

“Oooooh,” Meagan said, “I love the light in this one…oh, and you got the picture of me in the tree!”

“And I like this one of us.”

“Mmm. Yeah, that one worked. Keep the negatives, I’d like this one of you in wallet size.”

“This one’s my absolute favorite, though,” Parker said, pulling out the one on the bottom of the stack.

“Why?”

“Because of the light on your face, and your smile.”

“What was I even saying?”

“I think you were laughing.”

“What were you saying, then?”

“I can’t remember…”

“Something about ducks?”

“Maybe. Have I ever said anything hilarious about ducks?”

“You’re a capable man, Parker Daniels. I’m sure you’ve said something hilarious about ducks many times.”

After dinner, Meagan went back to the couch for a while as Parker flipped through the internet at the kitchen table. And then Meagan walked past him to their bedroom, and was in there for a little while; and then she came back, and said, “Smile for me, Parker.” And click.  

She had the Polaroid camera.

“Stand up,” she said. “Pose for me.”

“Silly? Sexy?”

“Play it straight,” she said. “Just be handsome for me.”

He leaned against the wall, put his hands in his pockets, and tried to play it cool.

“No, no,” she said, laughing. “Just relax!”

He eased up, but still held a bit of a pose to make sure the shadows worked okay.

Click.

“The light’s not great in here,” Parker pointed out as the picture faded into view. “Over by the window would be better.”

“But I want you to take your shirt off next.”

“I can do that over by the window, too.”

She posed him how she wanted him. He looked at her shot and recomposed it, pointing out a few little ways to use the light better, with and without the shirt. Click. Click.

And then she ran her hand down his bare back and pulled him towards her for a kiss.

Parker’s heart rate soared.

She took him by the hand and led him from the window to the bedroom. Pictures were spread out on the bed: Polaroids from the blackout of the winter before and the photoshoot they’d done back at college and a few occasions in between. A few other favorite pictures of Meagan, or both of them together, were mixed in.

“You make me look beautiful,” Meagan said softly. “And that makes me feel beautiful. Sometimes I forget that.” She kissed him again. “But tonight I remembered. And I want to make you feel beautiful, too.” Another kiss, long and lingering

“I’m okay with this plan.”

“I thought you might be.”

“Do you want to…?”

“Yes. Yes, I want you,” she whispered. “But let me do it my way, please?”

“Gonna make me wait?”

“Not that way. Just—let me steer, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sit on the bed.”

“Let me get the pictures off,” he said.

“You do that,” she said, and took her shirt off.

Pants came next, and his underwear, and she fondled him hard (not difficult to do). She sucked and licked him slowly and carefully while she slipped a hand into her panties and fingered herself. Occasionally she paused her attentions of his erection and kissed his hips or his thighs or his hands. Or she just looked up at him, caressing his skin anywhere convenient with her free hand.

He looked back at her, a mixture of exhilaration and terror swirling through him.

“It’s strange,” he said. “We’ve done this so often. But I’m still so scared.”

“I get it,” she said. “I’m scared too.”

“Do you want to stop…?”

“No. I’m scared but I still really want you right now. Do you want to stop?”

“Not at all.”

She stood up and slid her panties off. She grabbed the lube from the bedside table drawer and knelt astride him, kissing him even as she slathered the lube along the length of his hard-on. His breathing picked up speed quite a bit, and she slowed her strokes, but kept kissing him. Then she said, “Lie back,” and when he obeyed, she lifted herself up and down onto him.

He ran his hands over her slowly thrusting thighs, and up to her hips, and around to her butt—and she froze for a second. She reached back and pulled his hands away. “Not my ass,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, and resumed her long, lingering thrusts.

Keeping her hands away from her butt, he again caressed her thighs, her hips, her belly, and up to—

This time she almost swatted him away. “Not my breasts, either.”

Fear spiked in him again. “What’s going on, love?”

She’d stopped thrusting, and dropped her eyes. “Just let me do this my way, mmmkay?”

“All right. But can’t I touch you anywhere?”

“My clit’s fine,” she said, slightly impatiently. “Go ahead and touch me there as much as you want.”

He did so. She shivered at the touch of his thumb. Arched her back. Took a couple deep breaths. Leaned back towards him again, and ran her hands over his body, and bent to kiss his face. His hardness was dwindling. He kept circling her clit, not daring to stop.

“That’s just right,” she whispered in his ear. “Just right.”

“Um, I’m not, not quite.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I got you.”

Those words did as much to stiffen him again as the several quick thrusts she made.

She rode him a long time, stopping once or twice to add more lube. He watched her, fascinated, fearful, too anxious to climax. And when her thrusts slowed to a halt and she lay herself down on him, she whispered, “Did you come…? If you did, I missed it.”

“No, but it’s okay. Did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “It was still good, though. It felt good to have you in me.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “You had me worried…”

“Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t expecting to flip out about being touched like that. Here.” She took his hand in her own and laid it gently on her butt. “There we go. No problem.”

“Because you invited it and controlled it,” he pointed out.

“You gonna join me in the Psych department, hon?”

He shrugged modestly, a difficult feat with his lover lying on him. “I’ve learned a few tricks. Um, do you want to come?”

“I think I’m done tonight,” she said. “I’m gonna go pee.”  

“Okay. But before you go—”

“Hmm?”

“One, thank you. This was good. And two, I love you.”

“I know.” She got up and crossed the kitchen to the bathroom.

And she closed the door.

 

----------------------------------------

 

The next day, he’d gone to the photographer, who took a look at the Meagan-portrait portfolio and chuckled. “Well, you can certainly make her look good,” the man said, “but with a girl like that, it’s not hard.”

“I know, I’m pretty lucky,” Parker replied, knowing it was true and hoping it would stay that way.

“Still, you clearly know your light and your angles. If you can manage working with screaming kids, you’ll do.”

“Sure,” Parker said, hoping that was true, too.

It turned out that he could handle elementary schoolkids well enough—one at a time, if he applied enough pure silliness—and he slogged his way through nine campuses in two weeks’ time, one a day. Then he did a week of retakes. And at the end of it, the photographer said, “Nice work. You get to do all the family portraits with kids from now on.”

This turned out to be much harder work, since it often involved babies. And babies took an entirely different level of silliness, which required more of an effort and often didn’t work even then. And any customers waiting in line for their portraits could be a little exasperated by baby delays, and took their frustrations out on him. The first time some customers left because he was taking too long was devastating. Especially since he wasn’t getting paid by the hour, but on commission.

But he was getting paid. Two Fridays later he brought home his first check stub, proud despite its size, and began to work out how it needed to be spent. Rent took the lion’s share, of course, but he also took the shopping list and bought some groceries, and also set aside as much as he dared and put it in his savings account—the first time in months that account had gotten bigger. When Meagan came home, and saw the rent check written out for the landlady, groceries in the fridge, and the budget he’d worked out on paper, she grinned and kissed him.

“We should celebrate,” she said. “Go out for a drink or something.”

“I don’t want to blow my first paycheck!” he said.

“We should have a little fun, lover,” she said. “I’ll split a bottle with you or something.” So off they went to the store again, brought home a bottle of passable rum, and watched Pirates of the Caribbean for the third time while sipping a Dark n’ Stormy apiece. By the time the credits rolled, they were both a little tipsy. Meagan scooped up Parker’s pay stub and waved it about. “Aztec gold!” she giggled.

“ ‘You’re sure you’re not a pirate? You’re completely obsessed with treasure,’ ” he said.

“ ‘Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate,’ ” she shot back, looking him in the eye.

“Is that so?”

“It is indeed,” she purred, and kissed him. He kissed back. Before long she was straddling him to make out, and he could feel her breathing picking up speed. And not long after that, she pulled off her shirt and put his hand on her breast.

He sobered instantly. Well, not entirely. But he knew he had to say something. “Hey, love, we’re both a little drunk. Are you sure…?”

“I’m not drunk,” she said. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m not gonna regret this in the morning; been meaning to do it for days. It’s time I got over this. Past time.” She hesitated for a second. “But you’re gonna come in me, not on me.”

“I am totally fine with this.”

She rode him again, both of them laughing and relaxed, and when he ran his hands up to cup her bare breasts she just closed her eyes in pleasure at the caress. He came quickly and enormously in her—too quickly, really. He apologized, but she just said, “It’s fine. I want my vibe, anyway.” But when she got up to get it, she realized how much of his cum was dribbling down her legs. “Wow,” she said.

“It’s been a while,” he pointed out.

“Is that your first time since…?”

He nodded.

“Wow,” she said again, shaking her head. “No wonder. Your balls were full, boy. Well, let me wash up, and then I can come for the first time since… in a while.”

It was a good thing she’d wanted the vibrator, he reflected as she arched against the couch cushions, panting and moaning. The vibe wasn’t about to get soft from over-thinking, but he would have. All through getting her off, he kept thinking about how she’d gone to the bathroom to clean herself up, and closed the door behind her.

Am I ever going to see her pee again?

You don’t deserve to, he told himself firmly. Count yourself incredibly lucky that you get to make love to her again. That’ll have to be enough for you.

 

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And there you have it, folks. Hope you enjoyed it, even without any omo content at all. And while they might be in a better place, they clearly aren't out of the woods yet. Stay tuned. (Probably sometime in September, assuming I finish the next chapter.)

[david_578 14]

This was so good!  I read it twice already!