Cleaning Duty Ch 05 Good Friday

With Meghan's parents, it seemed, I wasn't yet Easter brunch material, but I at least rated high enough for Good Friday dinner.

On the Sunday morning that I received my invitation, I was spending a lot of time in the bathroom. I'd love to tell you that I was doing something sexy. Maybe fingering myself in the shower or streaming porn from the toilet seat. The boring truth is that I was shaving.

I wasn't even taking the razor to someplace private, just to my face. Knocking down the peach fuzz, I nicked my upper lip. It bled like crazy. I had just stopped up the cut with toilet paper when the phone buzzed on the sink.

I smiled my bloody lipped grin at Meghan's Caller ID selfie. The same topless pic that she had sent me just before Christmas, her tits full and her hand splayed down her belly. I must have jacked off two dozen times or more to that one image. I'd probably do it again before sunset. But at moment, just hearing her voice sounded like the ultimate turn-on.

I said, "Ho-ho! Skipping church, are we? Look how I'm already rubbing off on you!"

"Nuh-uh! I just got out!"

"A likely story!"

"It's true! I went to early service, ask anybody!"

"Ah-ha! That's the same alibi I've been using on my parents for the last nine months!"

She sighed. "Oh, Adam..." Then, she started giggling. My little Believer, cavorting and contorting with a pagan. She asked, "Are you busy this morning?"

"Not really. I'm just shaving. Bleeding."

"Ouch! You okay?"

"I think so. If I get a little woozy. I'll stop by the blood bank later. And are YOU busy on this fine, godless morning?"

"I DID go to church! And no, I wouldn't call myself busy. Just kinda sorta pumped up. Like, as in, I'm excited?"

"Excited for how I'm rubbing off on you?" I licked my lips, careful to avoid the cut. "For how I've rubbed...off...ON you?"

I caught the sharp intact of her breath. Such a marvelous sound had my cock jumping in my boxers. She said, "I was going to ask if you were hungry."

"For you, always."

"For breakfast."

"Is that what the Christian sorority girls call it these days? 'Please drop your pants and spread those legs. It's BREAKFAST time!'"

"Adam...!"

"Oh, alright. I'm sure some real food wouldn't hurt my minor blood-loss, as long as I don't pass out walking there."

"I think you'll be fine as long as you avoid, like...getting a BONER..."

"And how am I going to do that when it's YOU I'm coming to see?"

I admit, I loved the sound of the word Boner coming from her lips. It gave me a giant smile while I dressed. Really, it thrilled me anytime she used those threshold-dirty words. Penis, Cum, Masturbate. I'd wreck my pants for sure if she ever let fly with Fuck. Preferably something like, "Please, just fuck me already, Adam!" Or, "Fuck my mouth! I want your cum in my throat!" I had yet to catch her with as much as a muttered Shit. Not even after that time I'd banged her cousin while she was away on -

I slapped myself across the face. Then, I did it again, harder. Bracing my hands against my dresser, I turned my eyes to the crisp morning through the windows.

Dumbass. There I was, thinking about David again. In the three weeks since my spring break indiscretion, I had done such a great job keeping him out of my head. I had stuffed that night at his apartment into a box in a closet in the back of my mind. I had locked the door. I had told myself that that zone was now off limits, don't go near it. I hadn't even jacked off to him -

Well, okay, I did once. But JUST once. It hadn't even been that good of a wank. Just standing in the shower, bent forward and reaching back with two fingers to rail my own asshole while my other hand chafed my cock raw. A quick rise, a sharp but fleeting climax. Hardly enough semen to fill my palm. I hadn't even eaten it.

Lately, I'd even been avoiding my roommate Jeremy like herpes. Poor guy had never done a thing to me, and now, I was hiding my face in my laptop every time he passed me by. All it would have taken was once glance at his second-generation Chinese features from just the right angle and - BAM! - my mind would revert to the porno in David's apartment.

"Cock in Asian", it had been titled. I would witness David sodomizing that spry kid all over again. I'd see David taking me in his mouth, David taking me in his ass. Then, David carrying me to the bedroom to drill both my holes any way he pleased. David sending me back to Meghan in the morning, hungover with a hitch in my step.

That would lead me back to the church basement, David warming my insides with his climax. Me spraying down the carpet. Meghan behind us, cumming in her sweatpants.

And then, even further down the rabbit hole. Meghan at her birthday party, hiding in the pool house crawlspace, humping the floor to the sight of a naked David.

Her own cousin.

Some things, I plain old didn't want to think about. Others, I didn't dare to.

I beat some more sense into myself. I zipped up my pants, pulled on my Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. Lacing up my shoes, I turned my eyes to the futon. I could almost see the not-quite-sex stains that Meghan and I had smeared there. I could almost hear the high-pitched gasps of her recent orgasms. That salty-sweet smell. The dew of her trimmed pussy, so hot and warm, squelching into my hand as she begged me to do it all again.

I didn't look away from the futon until my boxers felt three sizes too tight at the thought of Meghan and Meghan alone.

* * *

At the coffee shop on the Cumberland Strip, she radiated in her Sunday morning best. A purple cardigan with white daisy prints on the front, and a gray T-shirt underneath. A plaid skirt with blue and yellow designs complimented her top. Black, leather boots and a brown headband completed the ensemble.

She leapt from her seat at the patio table and snatched me in her arms. I could have sworn that I heard my ribs popping. Right out there in the open, she kissed me. No tongue, all lips. It only lasted a couple seconds, but what stunning seconds they were. Resisting the urge to bend her over the table and hump one out on her from behind, I grabbed a seat and sipped the coffee that she had bought me.

I ordered an egg and spinach sandwich slapped between two halves of a croissant. Meghan had scones and a parfait. She looked so cute, wiping her lips with paper napkins between bites.

I asked, "What's got you so giddy today?"

She nibbled her painted, red lips. "Well, I got a call from my parents this morning. Like, I was coming out of my early service, and they were going into theirs. Like, different churches, different start and finish times?"

"What did you talk about?"

"Well...about you?"

"Oh? What did you tell them about me?"

"Just the story we agreed to."

"Only, I don't remember ever actually AGREEING to any kind of story..."

"Okay, like, the story that I've been telling people and then telling you after the fact. Like, that you're my wholesome, straitlaced Christian boyfriend?"

"You told them that in a CHURCH? Straight to hell with you!"

She smirked with her cute, pink cheeks. "Anyway, they only sorta remember you from when we all went to church together -"

"Probably a good thing."

"- so, they'd like to re-meet you sometime. Or more specifically, they'd like you to come to dinner sometime...Or MOST specifically, they'd like you to come to dinner this weekend."

"For Easter?"

"For Good Friday."

"Oh! Well, I - Hey, it won't be like the Christmas party, right? I mean, wouldn't mind some more of that basement couch action, but I'm not going to have to fight my way through a horde of Bible thumpers again, am I?"

"Not on Good Friday. It'll just be us and my parents."

"So...do I need to rent a tux?"

"No, just put on something nice-looking. Casual but nice. Like, think the guy equivalent of what I'm wearing now."

"I don't know. That's already setting a pretty high bar."

I ogled her outfit, especially those daisy prints across her cardigan. She had felt so warm and soft in my arms, only minutes ago. A little bulge of the tits against chest, not enough to be obscene but enough to hint at fun times without clothes. Holding her gave off the comfy sensation of us slowly wilting into each other. I couldn't wait to stand up and do it again.

Meghan said, "You're coming, right?"

"Of course! I'll make sure to leave the Hail Satan hoody at home."

She cringed in her chair. "I know you've gone atheist, but please don't even joke about that, please."

"Alright, sorry. What are they cooking?"

"Usually, a ham. They might do lambchops this year. You're not, like, REQUIRED to bring anything? But you totally can if you want. I'm doing deviled eggs. I don't care what they do to my gassiness, they taste WAY too good!"

I studied the crumbs on her plate. "I could bring some scones?" I suggested.

"I'd like that!"

"Then, I could split you down the middle and butter you along with them."

Meghan's eyes shot wide. Her mouth hung open with a quivering lower lip.

Shit! Had I gone too far?

"Uh, Meghan? You okay?"

Leaning forward, she spoke in a heavy whisper. "Adam...you have no idea how good it feels when you say that sort of stuff to me."

Mentally un-shitting myself, I flashed her a sly grin. "Oh, yeah? How good we talking?"

"Just like...warm! Warm all over! I feel it in my chest, I feel it in my heart. I feel warm little squigglies all through my tummy. I get all warm behind the eyes, I get -"

"Wet?"

"- yes."

Beneath the table, I discerned the general placement of her feet. My own crept silently towards them.

"Well, now," I said. "I'm not above a certain Sunday confession. Sitting here with you has put me in a similar set of...shoes."

I trapped her foot with both of mine. She jumped on instinct. Then, she relaxed, leaning the arch of her boot against me heel. The marvelous pressure that we soon exerted back and forth had us both squirming in our seats.

"Uh-oh!" whispered Meghan with an air of teeheehee. "Whatever are we gonna do about that situation?"

Beneath the tabletop, our feet ground gently upon one another. Above it, my hand found hers, locking our fingers together. "How about we take a little walk?" I said.

"I mean, it IS a really nice morning outside..."

"And the best part is that everybody's either asleep or in church."

She scrunched up her face. "How come that's the best part?"

"Because it means there will be no witnesses."

* * *

With held hands, we carved a serpentine path through campus. Spring had kicked winter out the door. We watched the birds chirp, the bees hum around the flower blossoms. I stuffed a fist in my pocket to obscure the hardon from everybody but Meghan. I kept catching her peeking down at it, smiling.

By the time that we wound our way to Haslam Field, I couldn't take it anymore. I spotted a lone alcove, cordoned off by construction tape. The laborers were long gone, abandoning their work zone until Monday. I dragged Meghan beneath the tape by the hand. Ducking behind a dumpster where no one could see us, I spun her around, hauled her in for a kiss.

She squealed a little. Her yips quickly became soft moans. Arching her back, she danced her pelvis against mine. She ground herself into my bulge. Through her plaid skirt, her pussy felt hot and lively, the narrow lips sucking at me.

I popped open her cardigan, got my hands up her shirt front. I refamiliarized myself with the smooth curves of her skin as she slipped her wayward tongue back into my mouth.

It was heaven on earth, my cock so stiff against her that it hurt. I could only imagine how full-on fucking her would someday feel.

I spun her heroically around. Slapping her hands against the brick wall, she twerked her l ass back against my bulge. I locked my fingers upon the flesh of her jutting hipbones. I kissed the nape of her neck. I sucked her neon blue hair into my mouth whist dry humping her fucking rotten.

Wheezing an endless stream of, "Uhn, uhn, uhn!" she bounced herself up and down on her tiptoes. Her ass merrily stroked the protrusion in my pants. Damn, I couldn't wait to be up inside of her. Pussy first, then mouth, then her lovely little ass. Nice and slow, lots of lube, looking her in the eye throughout, Frenching her tongue at the point of no return.

In its roundabout way, the fantasy had me shoving a hand down her skirt and into her panties. My fingers probed her clit.

"Whoa whoa, easy!" she said. "Don't make me blow up!"

"Aw, just a little bit?" Every fidget of my fingertips had her body twitching in my arms.

"Not in church clothes, please!"

My hand retreated from her panties. I wiped my sticky hand across her flexed abs. "You'll only make the strain worse for yourself," I warned.

"I know," she said, grinding her backside against me. "I'll take care of it tonight. I'll be thinking all about you when - OH! Oh, WOW, Adam! How come you make me feel so GOOD?"

But was I the only one who spread that luscious heat through her body? How many times had she rubbed off to her cousin in place of me? Or - like in the church basement - to both of us at the same time?

I shook my head, told myself no more of that. Not until at least one of us had cum.

As much as I wanted to blast off through my pants, I had to think of Meghan and her nice church clothes. Easing off her, I staggered to the far corner of the alcove. I sprung my cock free of my boxers to jerk off against the brick wall.

I felt myself building. Balls shrinking. Asshole puckering. I glanced back to see Meghan turned around to face me. Eyes closed, one hand gripped the wall at her side. The other hand raced in and out of her pants. Watching her teeth sink into her lip, concentrating on not quite making herself cum, I felt myself rising even faster.

But for all the mounting intensity, I couldn't achieve my plateau. I got close. Or at least, it felt like I did. Tons of endorphins but no payoff. Just brilliant wave after brilliant wave of mounting tension, followed by...nothing. Just a smear of precum on the tip of my cock.

I zipped up. Confusion twisted Meghan's face when she opened her eyes. "What happened?" she asked. Did you, like...eat it?"

"I wish. My sperm tastes great, but I guess it just wasn't going to happen today."

Her mouth sagged in a frown. "Is it because I told you not to touch me down -?"

"No, no, it's not you. I'm probably just a little shy today."

"I mean, it wasn't shy a minute ago...and it's never been exactly LITTLE..."

"Don't worry your pretty, blue head, Meghan. I'll finish myself off later, too." Her timid smile prompted me to cup a gentle hand over her crotch, just to watch those eyelids flutter. I whispered, "It will make it even better for when we do blast off to each other."

* * *

And yet, later that night when Jeremy had gone to bed and I was stroking myself off under the sheets, I hit the same wall.

I broke out all the old tricks. I twisted my hand up and down my shaft like a corkscrew. I adjusted positions. I varied speeds. I pinched my nipples, tugged on my pubes. I even jammed a couple fingers up my ass. Nothing doing. I wound up with a sore prick and a dry belly.

And thus, commenced the longest fucking week of my life.

Twice a day, I tried it, sometimes thrice. Distractions stonewalled me at every stroke. A ringing cellphone. A car horn outside. Jeremy popping out of his room at just the wrong time. Technically, he never caught me with my dick in hand, but he caught me close enough.

Mostly, it was just shit in my own head. My thoughts kept straying to homework and upcoming tests. I streamed porn on my phone and got guilty, thinking about how I wasn't jerking off to Meghan. I tried doing it to her and started thinking about David. That put a quick end to the session, even if it gave my balls a sudden tuggle.

A few times, I even tried it WITH Meghan. Never a full-blown dry humping or a vigorous round of the Pretzel Game. Not that week. Just some old fashioned over the clothes action. Making out on my futon, squeezing her tits through her shirt. Rubbing my hands all over her darling tummy while she pawed the seat of my jeans.

At times, it felt like I was lugging around a pair of bowling balls in my sack. My cock stood at half-mast around the clock, if not fully erect. A strong wind should have shot me off. Only, I never even achieved that modicum of relief.

Somehow, I survived until Friday. For my edible offering to the holiday dinner, I bought a case of creamy bonbons. I ironed some khakis and a teal polo shirt, and I drove to Meghan's parents' place at seven-thirty.

I had never been there before, never been invited. It was much nicer than I had expected. A two-story house with a slanted roof, blue sidings, a sizable front lawn. The backyard had a gazebo and a porch with a gabled roof. With the sun going down, though, I figured that we wouldn't be spending much time out there, if we ventured that way at all.

Vaguely, I recalled her parents from church. Her father, Norm: tall and tanned, bald-pated with a trimmed, black goatee. He was a tad overweight, but you could tell just by looking at him that he did a lot of yardwork. Mother, Jan: super skinny, shorter than Meghan by a full foot. Catty glasses, blonde hair done up in a bun. She had the kind of face that you could never picture not smiling.

They had always been pleasant people. Meghan had come by that trait naturally. They looked you in the eye when they shook your hand, seemed to really be listening when you spoke. But it had been a solid good nine months since we had seen each other in church. When last we met, I was still only copping the occasional creepy feel of their daughter at work. She and I hadn't yet commenced our barely clothed trysts. I hadn't yet fucked their nephew.

I had no gauge on how much they knew about the whole sordid business. Meghan had apparently fed them that line of bullshit line about me being her Christian, God-fearing boyfriend. However, she hadn't given me a detailed report of their reaction. Was it joy? Excitement? Apprehension? A sudden mania for overly protecting their only child?

Ringing the bell, I braced myself for everything short of a shotgun wedding.

Norm answered the door in jeans and a button-down. His smile seemed reserved, though that could have just been my jangled nerves incorrectly interpreting the scene. In a deep, genial voice, he said, "Adam! It's very good to see you again!"

Out shot his hand. I shook his hand. The strength of his grip stung my knuckles. "You, too, sir!" I said like a cliché. "It's, uh, been a minute."

"I hope that you have been keeping well."

"I'm surviving, anyway. Uh...I brought desserts."

"Bonbons!" He accepted the box from me without my actually offering it. "This ought to satisfy the girls' sweet-tooths. Or should that be sweet-teeth?"

"Uh, not sure. I'm flunking English."

Shit! With that dumb joke, he'd have me pegged as a slacker. Reverse! Reverse!

Quickly, I shifted tones. "Just kidding. I'm getting all A's...Or B's...One C...I'm showing up to every class on time. I'm taking tons of notes."

He smiled in silent confusion. "Why don't you come on inside?"

Telling myself to quit trying to be funny, I accepted his offer.

Christian paraphernalia pasted the entry hallway. A few crosses and inspirational posters lined the walls, along with family photos and what appeared to be a Thomas Kincaid painting. The wholesome décor did little to set my mind at ease.

The smell, however, allured me. The succulent aroma of sizzling meats wafted through the house. The kitchen clattered with the din of plates and silverware. A voice I recognized as Jan's called out, "Is that Adam?"

"Yep! Hello, ma'am!" I shouted in reply.

"Oh, just Jan's fine!"

"He's brought bonbons," said Norm.