A Bit of Nothing

Content Disclosure:

This chapter has elements that falls under Erotic Couplings too. Since it consists of erotic foreplay.

***

Chapter 6

Michael! Just think about the extent I put out there as your pretty-little-date. Pay up!

That's what I wrote after hitting send. There it is... I let out an exhilarated sigh.

I'd told him what I thought. He didn't fuck me that day. After another round of a finger fuck, he zipped and buttoned my pants back up. Bastard, he edged me.

Soon, I threw my phone onto my bed and left my room, heading downstairs. I found Mom and Dad. Mom was helping him walk. Dad was lucid, mostly, but when his eyes landed on me, I saw oblivion.

"U-uh?..." His speech faded as he turned to Mom. She gave him a reassuring nod and told him I was his daughter, then led him back to the living room sofa.

I reached out and helped steady his shaky steps. His condition was advancing, affecting his speech. When he sat down, Mom left us and went to the kitchen. I wanted Daddy to notice me, not this. Like some fucked-up Electra complex where I'm competing with my mom for Dad's attention. It was what it was. She cheated behind his back. I chose to stay with him.

My enthusiasm flickered to life when I was near him again, so I kept calling him "Daddy" in a way I knew he could understand, as if chanting to somehow pull him back from whatever distant place he was in. He turned to me. I stretched my lips into a bright smile--the kind of bright smile someone puts on when they're looking forward to seeing someone, an amateur attempt like that. Then his eyes flickered, a glimpse of recognition. When I caught it, I threw myself at him in a hug.

He chuckled and called me by my childhood nickname once more. Wrapped in his once bulky arms, which are now just skin and bones. He swung me side to side in his embrace like the good old days of bear-hugging Daddy. The best comfort of my life is knowing I'll never be scared of ghosts when Dad is there.

I giggled, closed my eyes, and savored the moment, knowing it would only last a few minutes before he stiffened back into that state.

I pulled away right as the moment passed, collecting my composure, telling myself I'm no longer Daddy's little girl. I had to stand up, separate myself from the man who raised me, to call myself an adult woman. I had to give him a resolved, serene smile, or else I'd break apart.

I did. Soon after, his attention was absorbed by the television. Old films, The Godfather or Jackie Chan's Police Story, played brightly on the screen. I headed to the kitchen for a snack to take upstairs, when I saw my mother sitting there, watching Dad's back.

I ignored her.

"If you're still mad about Rob, let me tell you, he and I are over," she blurted out into the spacious room.

My eyes scanned the snacks first. Then I went to the water dispenser for some water. "Why on earth are you telling me that now?"

"To ease some of that spite you carry around," came her reply.

I put the glass under the dispenser while the water flowed. "If you're asking for forgiveness, don't ask me. Ask your husband. You're the one who has to look him in the eye every day. My opinion doesn't matter; you're still my mother."

I took a long drink during the heavy silence. "You're still the mother who raised us, raised this family. But you have lost my respect as a woman." I turned my back to her, got more water, and walked back toward my room.

"You're a woman now? Yet you still live under my ro--"

"Shut up," I hissed, tilting my head sideways before walking away. I left her there.

After laying out my snacks, I checked my phone. Mike's reply popped up. And it really didn't help my mood:

Come over to my house, rlly. There's nthn much goin' on here, we could Netflix and chill.

I replied: Damn it! Alright. Pick me up, show yourself to mom and dad. Your turn to do some acting.

He's really ingratiating sometimes. Just when I thought he'd hold up his end of the bargain, he keeps taking these detours that avoid what we actually agreed on.

I chewed my snacks--fried corn, a freaking biscuit cracker, along with a Fanta and the water I'd tediously fetched from that living purgatory, with St. Peter probably watching the deed. I sat Indian style, chewing mindlessly until I decided to watch something on YouTube.

I was watching AI and the Nvidia stock crash issue when I heard my father's voice, suddenly lively. Then he was laughing, followed by a continuous buzz of chatter, as if he was catching up on stories with someone. Intrigued, I stood up from my bed, mouth full, and peeked out the door.

Michael was there, leaning forward in his seat, elbows planted on his knees, listening and vibing with my Dad. He'd arrived? I got back into bed and checked my phone. Just a single typed letter: "K." Lazy ass.

Then my mother came into view and gave the two men some sort of hospitable offering--coffee or beer? No fucking idea. Only her hostess persona would know. I deemed it perfect timing to give them notice before I left. So I packed my snacks tightly into my drawer, drank some water to wash down what I was chewing, and walked down to the living room.

"Oh! Here's Katarina," my father turned to me. Okay, which timeline was he lucid in now? "Child, you're on holiday or are you s-still working on your th-thesis?"

Oh.

"Holiday, Dad," was my terse reply.

"Now, you l-let my nurse drive you to p-places you might n-need to visit, just in case," he said, giving Mike's shoulder a tap.

I gave a hollow smile. "Sure."

"Oh, that's the catch, Mr. Nievez," Mike responded, with a quick snap of his fingers, "I was about to ask if I could take her out."

My mouth snorted. "The fuck is this? High school?"

Mike's beautiful, relaxed features wiped into deadpan dismay. He slowly turned to look at me. "Should I kidnap your daughter instead, Mr. Nievez?"

"You may," Dad said.

Huh?! What the fuck?! "Dad, how could you? You're selling me out?" I cried.

"Go on already, Katarina." My mother's footsteps drew closer. "Alfred, let's get you to sleep. It's already late," she said, wrapping her arms around my father's back as she started to guide him to walk.

"Late? Luisa we s-should see th-them off," Dad replied, and laughed, lively again. "Or s-shouldn't I br-brush first?"

"Oh, right." Mom slapped her forehead playfully. "How could I forget?"

"S-seems like you're the one w-who forgets," Dad said, laboring his breath slightly as he continued, "and not me," before laughing again.

Uhm. Awkward? Or just plain Dad jokes?

Old people and their humor.

Mike, however, chuckled. My head whipped upwards, looking at him in disbelief. "Quite a boost, Mr. Nievez," he played along.

My mother, however, tutted and dissuaded them both until they stopped.

Mike and I finally got out of the house. He started the engine when I blurted out, "How 'bout we go to Mamita's and buy some of those disposable underwear?"

Mike stifled a cough, straining his throat. He left the engine running while he massaged his throat. I watched that masculine bobbing Adam's apple, girls. "Shit, Kat," he winced before coughing again. "It's not like you came commando, right?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "What if it's soiled, like the last time you did?" I told him.

He paused to look at me, adjusted his posture, and started accelerating. "You want Rosana to see it?"

"Sure," I shot back. "Lay out the condoms, lubes, and pills--oh fuck, pills. Shit." My mind spiraled. I looked up and saw his focus was back on the road. "We can't have sex. Damn... I want it raw."

Mike closed his eyes and tilted his head up as if praying. "Heaven help me, Katarina. Is there any way to soften the blows that come out of your mouth?"

"But I don't want a plastic wrapped cock," I murmured. "I might as well go for a dildo."

He made an exasperated sigh. His eyes stayed fixed ahead as he swerved the steering wheel slightly. "So you're not really that desperate for sex, are you? Chill. We could still have a good time."

"No. I'm thinking of an IUD."

Mike turned to me. "That far?"

I nodded. "Yeah. As long as you get tested." My head rose, and I gave him a conniving smile. "Who knows if you're really Mr. Goody Two-Shoes after all," I taunted. "I heard it from your Mama."

"Fuck that. How 'bout you? You never keep your activities a secret."

I made a terse nod. "Game. I'll give you my shit, get that fuckin' IUD, and if I find your results bad, I'll fucking leave you."

He smirked and scoffed. "Nasty bitch, aren't we? You stick to your game, alright? Consistent with your views on a man's dick."

"I never lie," I informed him.

"Wait then," he countered back. "You get a wrapped dick if you want it now, or nothing."

"If I want to blow you now, does it need to be wrapped?"

A smirk crawled onto Mike's lips, his eyes darkening slightly but staying fixed on the road. "Nice," he murmured. "Later, though. Don't want reckless driving to be my first crime."

I made an exasperated sound and dropped it. We got out at Mamita's store, and no, Mike stopped me from buying those panties or condoms or lube. Damn it. He said he had them packed.

See? The man clearly has FWBs.

But ugh. Guess I'm getting a wrapped dick then. Well, so much for asking. I should get that IUD if I want to get what I want out of Mike. Heh...

That should stay on my list.

We grabbed frozen pizzas and beer and headed to the counter where Mamita was. Her eyes flitted between us. "So... How are things with you two?" She tried to ask casually.

"Oh, mami. It's nothing. We are about to have some good ol' f--"

Mike clapped a hand over my mouth and cut in. "---we're dating, Rosana. That's what Kat was supposed to say."

Jerk? My brows furrowed.

Mamita seemed to buy his declaration more than mine, anyway. "Muy bien," she gasped, her eyes rounding in realization. "I mean, wow! That's good to hear. Though it's not exactly unlikely for you two," she said.

Huh? My face twitched. I removed Mike's hand. "Which means, mami?"

"Oh, you know," she said, her tone unsure before shrugging a bit. "You're both young, you interact a lot. You both are also pretty fixated in what you do, maybe don't go outside much after--"

Oh, right. I came to fuck.

My brain stalled for a second before I managed a convincing reaction. Mike, however, put a pack of beer on the counter.

Shocked, I was prepared to argue. "Got plans?" I started.

"Supplies," he said, shutting me down.

"My, my..." came Mamita's wistful voice. "Have a great time, you two lovebirds."

More like frisky rabbits, mami. Heh.

That's pretty much our fairy godmother waving her magic wand as we headed off to the lala-fuck-a-thon castle. When we arrived at what I'd already described as a humongous blue mansion, not only was I slapped with the sense of social hierarchy, I was also reminded that being alone in a place like this is cold.

So I offered something for Mike. "How about I warm you up?"

"Take a shower, Kat. I'll deal with those never-ending sex talks later."

Bummed. I started looking for the shower room when he guided me to his room--fuckin' gray tones and soft black interior--what the hell did this room scream? That he was so masculine and bachelor? Whatever. Basic taste.

I turned around and was about to ask him what soap he used, 'cause I found it good, when I saw that he was already removing his shirt. I saw the promise, I saw heaven. Eight-pack abs down to a hairy groin, mouth-watering fucker.

"Can I just watch you instead?" I breathed out.

He, however, clicked his tongue. "You won't run out of chances, so get your ass over that shower. I'm waiting for my turn."

This asshole killed my mood; my enthusiasm deflated into annoyance. It showed right on my face. I walked toward the shower. Then I remembered his soap, so I turned around and asked him about it.

"It's antibacterial. Usually for my shifts," he told me.

"What's the name?" I probed further.

"Latin. Something you memorized for chemistry," was this jackass's profound answer.

I didn't bother. I was about to go on when I remembered I didn't bring my stuff. "Michael! I forgot to pack!"

He stood and grabbed something from his drawer. He tossed me a towel. "Take some clothes here, if you want one. Or try walking naked inside this vast space," was his noncommittal offer. He went back to removing his pants. I waited for the best part when a commanding voice interrupted. "Do you want me to count? One."

Ooh... I like this.

"What would you do?" I asked, still watching, but then he covered himself with a towel. Asshole, why? I wanted to wallow in despair. "I might misbehave, you know," my voice smiled, not removing my gaze.

"As I said before: lock you out in the basement."

Fucker. That served as the deal-breaker. Deflated, I stomped my feet before going inside. Guess what I did next? I spied on his hygiene products. I looked at his soap and he's fucking right: it's written in medical jargon. What a fucking dismay. So I did the basic shower, and since we'd be having sex, I thoroughly scrubbed the sweat and dirt off my skin. Fastidious? I know.

I got out afterwards, dripping wet 'cause this guy gave me just a single towel. He turned his head from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"About to get my clothes before I dry off," I flatly told him.

He pointed his chin. "Hold up." Then he stood and walked right in front of me. He pulled back the front layer of the towel and brushed his thumb across my nipple. The fuck? While I'm still wet? He kept rubbing it lightly, his eyes fixed on it. "So this is where that man Frederic put his mouth," he murmured.

And so?

My nipple obviously perked up, but it's not like what he said didn't get to me. "So?"

"Wait a minute before you dry yourself," he told me instead, settling one palm on my shoulder. He pushed me back against the drawer--I staggered backwards--before he lifted me up and held me again. This time, his head dipped to my chest. Oh, shit. His warm tongue wiped across my tit before his lips suckled on it.

I don't care about this for now. What about Frederic? He's also a charming and enjoyable guy. What about him? "You didn't answer my question, Mike. What about Frederic?" I repeated.

His soft mouth stopped suckling; his tongue stopped playing. He rose to meet my eyes. Fuck, they darkened badly. What the hell? I thought this guy wasn't into me; he couldn't even register my first attempt. Huh?

"Don't ever do that again, Kat," he said in a measured voice.

Oh, shit. What'd I do?

"We were mere acquaintances and you were my dad's nurse back then. You brought it up. You even mimicked what he did," I told him.

"Exactly." He held me by both shoulders and watched me with sharp focus. Shit. What's going on? "Don't ever give yourself to anybody else like that while you're with me. If you do, I'd tie you up, and top up what he did to you."

No shit! Tie me now!

"Sure!" I beamed. "When do we start tying and topping up?" My eager self grinned at the proposition.

He backed away and watched me for a while until his head bowed. His shoulders started shaking as he looked up. This piece of shit was laughing.

"Get yourself dried," he told me, setting me down. But just as I walked back toward the shower, he slapped my ass. I turned around and scowled at him. Opportunist.

When I was about to get dried, I remembered my underwear was no longer fresh. And since we were having sex, I might as well not reuse that slimy, wet fabric. I walked out with perky tits grazing against the inside of his shirt--the one that smelled like his cologne from the airplane ride. You like this, Michael? Good shit, good sight.

But sadly, I couldn't present myself to him immediately 'cause he quickly took his shower turn. I went into their large, fucking, ultra-spacious living room to check what Netflix he'd put on for us, and I saw 365 Days playing. I burst into a goddamn fucking laugh--my guts hurt.

Fuck you, Sanditon.

Stop playing the dominant possessive shit. Fuckin' imitator. I rolled onto my back. My body just sank into the sofa. Seriously, what Netflix mood is he trying for?

"Ha..." I relaxed. Eventually, his head, barely dry, popped up, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Damn that fuckery, and all that tie-up shit, Mike. I won't fuck another guy if you ride me right," I told him, taunting him with a lift of my chin.

He walked around the sofa and sat beside me. He was in his white cami and sweatpants. He reached out and began roaming his hand on my exposed thigh. "Should we start?" he asked, turning toward me.

Like, bitch, I'd waste my time? I adjusted my posture and spread my legs. He saw clear enough under his fucking shirt the excited state of my pussy--pretty much puffed up now and glistening as he watched it. He raised the shirt hem until my groin was exposed.

Fuck, I think I forgot to wax. Now, of all the things to anticipate, why did I forget the crucial part? What I presented then was a pube-sprouting cunt.

"Damn, Mike..." I pondered aloud, "I forgot to wax."

But his eyes furrowed in dismissal. "It'll do," he breathed and began to gently spread my cunt lips with his fingers. He made soft, light strokes on the surface, tickling my clit. My fucking body melted. Son of a bitch. I relaxed and immediately spread myself further for him.

"The last time I put my finger here, it was tight, Kat." He inserted his middle finger, and my pussy greeted it with eagerness. "See?"

The fuck could I say except groan? But he stopped and withdrew.

"'Or maybe later," he suddenly declared.

"Michael!" I sprang up and reached out to punch him. "Now? At this point?! You son of a turd!" I exploded. Fuck this man! But the punch had no effect; instead, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward him.

"Move," he told me when we were body to body. I got up and swung my teased thighs and cunt to straddle him. His hands crept between us and dug back inside me again, penetrating deeper than before. I gasped and naturally rolled my hips.

"Keep going. Don't think about the hair, it's not that bushy--not a hurdle for me. I suppose you really don't sleep around that much if you don't keep up high-maintenance waxing," he said while his fingers crooked inside to touch the best spot, building everything up again.

The build-up felt so fucking delicious. Ha... I don't care. I don't think. I just want to be a hoe right now. It just felt so good. Fuck. I rushed to raise the shirt I was wearing.

"Here," I ordered, presenting my tits while I rolled my hips. Fuck it, no. I pulled his shirt off entirely and threw it onto another couch. I arched my back, offering him my tits to suckle if he wanted.

Shit. The build-up got deliriously higher, knotting my insides tighter. Mike took the cue and began suckling as he quickened his finger movements.

Damn. I closed my eyes when the pleasure spiked. I think I'm near. Shit.

But he slowed it down, and soon enough, his mouth moved up to my neck. I ended up taking slow body rolls against his fingers.

Damn it, back to a glide. I moaned, helpless against both the sensation of his warm mouth and the penetrating strokes. Fuck...

Until Mike came at it again and intensified it. I didn't know what his plan was, so I just let him. I threw my head back and circled my arms around his neck, then returned to latch my head onto his shoulder. He fucking smelled like his soap, and that goddamn cologne. The buoyancy of his fingering led me to a lull even as the build-up kept magnifying. It was near. So close. Until, yes, yes...

Ugh.

My womb clamped in wild thrusts; my body shook. It kept clutching his fingers tight as waves of shivers swept over my skin, through my mind. Mike's fingers remained still, feeling every spasm until my body relaxed but remained aroused. I turned my head, my lips close to his jaw. "Want me to blow you?"