A Second Chance 8

*zzzzzz*.....*zzzzzz*.....The blue cell phone vibrated on the passenger seat as Justine accelerated through the yellow light and onto Germantown Road. She seized it quickly and flipped it open before it rang a third time.

"Hey, Laura. What's going on?"

"Justine! How're you doing? I was just wondering if you could drop by and help me out with my physics homework. I really don't get thermodynamics at all and Ms. Polack can't teach worth shit."

Justine smiled. "Sure! I was just heading over to McDonald's for a pumpkin pie. I'll drive over to your place as soon as I'm done."

She shut the phone as she approached the drive-thru and paid for two individual-size pumpkin pies, figuring Laura would appreciate the "brain food" as well. Then she navigated onto South Bend Street and made her way over to her friend's house.

The origin of Justine and Laura's friendship was unusual. They had first become acquaintances when Justine had dated Michael, Laura's older brother, two years previously. After Michael abruptly broke things off with Justine, she and Laura became even closer. Visiting Laura was always mildly uncomfortable when Michael was around, but she generally stayed in her friend's room, and didn't have to see him. Since her 18th birthday, she had occasionally sensed him watching her more closely, but she ignored him and he avoided contact with her, so nothing was ever mentioned about it.

Today was no exception. Justine grimaced slightly when she saw Michael's blue Saturn in the driveway, but she resolutely pulled up to the house and parked. When she rang the doorbell, books and McDonald's bag in hand, she heard chaos erupt within the house. The dogs went crazy and began to howl. In the window, Justine could barely make out the entryway. No one answered for a moment, then Laura flung the door open, breathless and red-faced.

"Sorry, Justine! I was just getting dressed and 'Douchebag' in there," she indicated the living room with her head, "didn't want to get up from the football game."

Justine shook her head and rolled her eyes. She hadn't expected anything more from Michael. Ever since they had broken up, he avoided her like the plague. She glanced over at him now, sitting on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV screen. He was home from college for the weekend, but as far as she could tell, he may as well have stayed in his dorm room. Whenever she hung out with Laura, he remained stationary on the sofa, budging only to fix himself food or to go outside to smoke.

His long brown hair hung around his face, obscuring his ears. It draped well past his shoulders. It was thick and full-bodied and (she hated to admit it) fun to grab, but it had hid his eyes when she used to kiss him, too. His eyes now reflected the blue-white glare of the television so that their deep brown hue was barely visible. At one time, she could have lost herself in the depthless pools of his eyes. That had been a long time ago, though. Now, they both averted their eyes on the infrequent occasions when they came in contact with each other. His feet were propped up on the coffee table and at this, she wrinkled her nose distastefully. He really was a slob. As if to reinforce her opinion of him, he belched heartily, and Justine and Laura rolled their eyes in unison.

Laura dashed upstairs and Justine, without a backwards glance at Michael, followed her up to her room. From the couch, Michael heard her feet land on the first stair step and his eyes followed the back of her head until she was gone from his line of sight. He sighed and returned his attention to the game.

In Laura's room, Justine spread out her textbooks to join her friend's pile of jumbled papers and books on the floor. Laura slipped a Rammstein CD into her computer disc drive and, to the soundtrack of German industrial heavy metal, she and Justine began their homework. Justine easily explained the concepts of heat measurement and energy transfer to her friend. Having taken physics her junior year as Laura was doing, Justine was now in AP Physics and was working with thermodynamics in her class too. Then, she helped Laura with her chemistry study guide and they both worked in amiable silence on their respective English homework. She stretched her curvaceous tan legs out on the floor and yawned. Justine was tired of high school.

As she wrote, she wondered, 'Why can't Laura just ask Michael about this stuff? He took chemistry and physics when he was in high school, and he was a straight-A student, too!' She gritted her teeth in irritation at Michael. When she swallowed, she realized that, in the hours they had been up there after eating her pumpkin pie, she had had nothing to drink. She was parched.

"I think I'm going to go down and get some water. I'll be right back."

Laura grunted from her comfortable position on the floor, her book, "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court", blocking her face from view. As Justine descended the stairs, she tried to make her footfall light so she could sneak down without disturbing Michael. Perhaps if he didn't know she was there, he wouldn't be so firmly attached to the couch. She peeked around the corner and inspected the living room. Nope. No Michael. 'It works!' she thought with amusement. She whirled around and found herself staring at a broad chest.

At 5'5", Justine felt herself to be decently tall most of the time. Not so as Michael loomed over her, one eyebrow raised in question. At 5'11", he was tall enough that she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. He was standing so close to her, she could faintly smell his TAG deodorant and it made her head spin. 'He's an emotionally stunted dumb ass,' she told herself firmly, but she could not help feeling a jolt of electricity across her body when she was this close to him. She could feel herself blushing crimson.

Trying to dismiss her traitorous hormones, she stared up at him defiantly. It was the first time she and he had held eye contact this long since their break up and it was making her dizzy. 'This is stupid', she told herself. 'He's a selfish, lazy bastard.' Her body did not agree. She saw the slightly defined muscles of his biceps and couldn't help recalling how hard and strong his arms had felt against her back as he'd held her. His beard stubble, still a part of his "look", had scratched her neck and her chin when they had kissed. Justine tried to expel the memories from her mind but they kept popping up, unbidden. Her head was light from the scent of his deodorant. Nothing more. That was it, she was sure.

"Was there something you wanted?" she asked with an almost formal politeness. She was determined to let him know he couldn't faze her.

Michael shook his head as if to clear it. He hadn't been this close to Justine since he had broken up with her several years ago and now, all the old feelings, rushes, and urges came crashing back. He saw the outline of her breasts through her long-sleeved shirt and remembered how pink and hard her nipples had been when he'd kissed them, how soft her breasts had been when he'd grabbed them in his hands. He saw her soft brown hair. She had cut it since they'd dated. Her large blue eyes, framed by long dark lashes, gazed into his brown ones and for one breathless moment, he wanted to wrap his arms around her as he had two years ago.

He shook himself out of his reverie at the sound of her voice, casually polite and crisp. It gave no indication of any feeling. It was like a line from a commercial. Of course she didn't still like him after two years of non-communication. She was just trying to be friendly for Laura's sake. He told himself this, and then he noticed her flushed cheeks. His pulse began to increase. She looked as she had when he had ground himself against her on the couch. He remembered her messy hair, her expression of ecstasy, and her beautiful, sexy blush.

It was stupid, he knew. She'd probably smack him. One part of his brain screamed at him, 'Don't be an idiot, Michael! She doesn't want you anymore!' Almost of its own accord, though, his hand began to rise.

Justine felt her own words, falsely, emptily cheerful, ring thin on the air. There. She'd said it. There was no way he could think she still had feelings for him. No way in hell was she going to be thought of as anyone's love-sick pup. She couldn't possibly let him know the effect he had on her. As she stood there, feeling pleased with herself, she didn't notice his hand until he gently stroked her pink cheek with his finger. At this contact, she could no longer hold back a reaction.

Bracing himself for the slap or the bitch-fest he was sure would follow his presumptuous move, Justine's sharp intake of breath and fluttering eyelids took Michael completely by surprise. Her full ruby-red lips parted slightly and he could see her bottom lip quiver. He was hypnotized. Her breathing was shaky and shallow and he watched, transfixed, as she struggled to regulate it. Her eyes glittered in the dim light from the living room and the kitchen, and she seemed to be trying to move forward and back at the same time. He wasn't sure whether she wanted to recoil or press herself against him.

His finger was still on her cheek, he realized, and almost instinctively, he slid it slowly downward to rest on her bottom lip. Her eyes were closed by this time, and he could feel her tiny warm breaths against his index finger. He slid his finger on down her chin and then his entire hand stroked her jaw back up to the side of her face. The feeling of her skin against his palm was like soft suede and it sent chills down his spine. He felt a familiar tug in his groin.

Justine sighed as his hand came to rest on her cheek again. She had had to close her eyes when he had stroked her lip. It felt too good. Now, his fingers barely brushed her right earlobe. He seemed to notice this too. His fingers began to gently play with her earlobe, then his thumb and index finger softly pinched at the base of her ear and traveled up, around the helix.

He knew how sensitive her ears were. He felt her shudder, barely discernibly. It made his head fuzzy. His blood was beginning to flow to areas of his body other than his brain. Michael moved his hand down to her neck, another sensitive part of her body he knew.

Oh, this was agony. He stroked her neck and she unconsciously bent her head to the side, exposing more of her downy throat to him. She wanted to feel vulnerable. No, she didn't. Oh god, it was so wonderful. All that mattered to her in the world was his hand on her neck, warm and tender. She was lost in his touch. She felt him move towards her, and suddenly, her chest was pressed against his. Her abdomen became molten, she was sure, and she could feel her nipples hardening. So could he.

He had finally no longer been able to resist the urge to hold her. He had closed the distance between them and felt her reaction, rather than seen it. Her heart beat fast against his chest, and her breasts pressed against him. As her nipples brushed against his torso, he could feel his own rock-hard erection brushing her pelvis. His hand descended from her neck to the small of her back. She trembled slightly at his sudden movement.

Justine rested her head against his chest, just like she had when they first dated, and her right hand traveled up and down the side of his body, from his ribs to his outer thighs. Her left hand entangled itself in his hair and, before she had a chance to second-guess herself, she brought his head down and brushed her lips against his. He didn't pull away. She let her lips linger a bit longer, feather-light against his.

Her breath tickled Michael's lips. This was torture. He pulled her into him and deepened the kiss, pressing his lips hard against hers and grabbing the back of her neck to give him more control. He backed her into the wall and ground his throbbing cock between her legs. As she gasped, his tongue entered between her parted lips and he hungrily French-kissed her while his pelvis kept her pinned to the wall. He could feel the lips of her pussy against his cock and it drove him half-mad with desire.

Justine's mind was overloaded with sensation, her nerves were on fire, and she couldn't make sense of anything. The part of her that had so vehemently denounced him as a lazy bastard now quivered at his touch and her bitter thoughts had long since been silenced. 'Ah, hell, just go with it.' She stroked his head and slid her right hand down to grab his firm, muscular ass. His muscles tightened as he pressed against her even harder.

All of a sudden, Michael placed both hands under her ass and picked her up. He hadn't planned it, but when she wrapped her legs around his waist, he strode over to the door of his room, opened it, and knelt against the bed, pushing her down on top of the covers. After shutting the door firmly, he climbed on top of her and dropped between her legs again. This time, there was no holding back. He slid his left hand up her shirt and under her bra, first pinching her nipple, then squeezing her breast so tightly, she thought she might scream. His right hand held her arms above her head firmly so that she was completely helpless beneath him. He couldn't stop himself, nor did he want to.

Justine wanted to fondle his hair, to grab his shoulders and squeeze his ass, but she couldn't move her arms. He was in complete control of her, and he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted. He moved his hand from one tender breast to the other and repeated his ministrations, eliciting a tiny moan from her as he grabbed her breast so tightly, she could barely stand it. She wrapped her legs around him once again and thrust against his hard dick, gasping as he thrust back harder, hammering her pussy.

As much as Michael enjoyed pinning Justine to the bed, her arms above her head, there were other things he wanted to do to her. Releasing her arms, he pulled her shirt up over her head and deftly unhooked her bra, releasing her small, soft tits, 36B's. She tugged at his shirt, trying to remove it, and he yanked it off, falling back upon her and squashing her breasts with his pecs. He turned his attention to her neck again and this time, he was rough, biting and sucking her soft flesh. With each red mark he left, he became more and more turned on. She mewled with pleasure as he sucked on her skin and it made him suck harder. He knew he was leaving marks, and he didn't care.

Justine scratched Michael's back as he bit her. Those bruises were going to show tomorrow, damn it. Her annoyance made her dig her nails harder into his back and she heard him moan. The sound caused her pussy to tingle. He began to dip lower with his bites until he reached her hard, pink nipples. He circled the areola of her right breast with his tongue and, before she could so much as moan, he took it in his teeth and pulled. Justine gasped in pain. Michael continued to yank at first her right nipple, then her left, until they were both red and tender.

Now it was Justine's turn. She wanted to make him moan again. Pushing him over onto his side, then flipping him onto his back, she crawled down to the button and zipper of his jeans and undid them, sliding them down to his knees along with his boxers. His long, hard penis was dripping with pre-cum and she bent down to kiss it.

He shuddered as she teased the head of his cock with her soft lips, first brushing them against it, then dragging it in a circle around the outside of her mouth. Craning his neck, he lifted his head so that he was looking into her eyes as she flicked her tongue against the head, moistening it, then engulfing the head entirely with her mouth. She circled the tip with her tongue and then, without warning, slid his cock all the way into her mouth. It hit the back of her throat and she choked a little, but she was able to take it all in. Slowly, she started up a rhythm; up and down, up and down, with her tongue flicking and dragging, driving him insane. She kept her eyes on his the whole time, though it was hard with her head moving and the head of his cock hitting her uvula every time she plunged her head down. He gave a deep groan and placed one hand on either side of her head, guiding her, forcing his cock deeper into her throat, sliding her faster up and down. He could feel his orgasm building and his hands grabbed her hair like handles as she sucked his dick. Finally, he slammed her head down and shot a huge load of semen down her throat. With difficulty, she swallowed it all and he wiped the head of his penis on the corner of her mouth, enjoying the sight of his cum on lips.

The bittersweet taste of his semen lingered on her tongue as she started to wipe away the bit of cum he'd left on her mouth. Before she could, he had grabbed her and flipped her over on her back beneath him again. Quick as a flash, he'd yanked her sweatpants off of her and, after taking a long, ravenous look at her moist panties, he removed them too. The look in his eyes was animalistic and he licked his lips as she spread her legs for him. He placed his hands on her knees and dragged them up her legs, forcing himself to go slowly, taking time to caress her sensitive inner thighs. She felt faint as he came to her folds and carefully slid his fingers over them. She couldn't hold back a moan, and he began to rub her labia with firm, controlled strokes.

Her pussy was so wet, he just had to see what it felt like. As she began to move her hips in rhythm with his strokes, he dropped his thumb within her soaking folds and slipped it into her tight, wet cunt. He began to stroke faster with his thumb in her, his palm against her clit. She was bucking against his hand at this point, and he decided to try two fingers. With his free hand, which had been squeezing her firm, round ass, he inserted his index finger into her pussy, stretching her to accommodate his fingers.

"Oh Mi-Michael!" She could barely stand the pleasure. She was about to orgasm and it had been less than thirty seconds since he'd begun to finger her. With one last hard thrust, she came into his hand. As he gazed at her, stars exploded behind her eyelids and her mind succumbed to pure bliss.

Watching her orgasm, he could stand it no longer. He wanted to take her. He was already hard again, and now that he'd come once, he'd be able to keep going for a long time. Justine probably wouldn't be walking quite right for a while. He smirked at this thought. It turned him on to think of her, loose and sore from his cock, walking gingerly into the kitchen. God, he wanted to feel her around him. They'd never even had sex while they'd been together, for Christ's sake!

Justine, still reeling from her "little death", barely registered as he removed the covers from under her and draped them around them both. However, she did respond when he lifted himself up over her again and kissed her deeply. She knew what was coming, and she kissed him back, shyly but surely. He grabbed her right hand with his left and squeezed it tightly as his right hand caressed her side. It was a small gesture, but it helped her to relax and respond to his touches. He rubbed his hard penis against her inner thigh and she shivered with anticipation. Their bodies were intertwined and they stroked each other in preparation. At last, she was ready and she guided his penis towards the entrance to her vagina, pausing when the tip touched her pussy.

Michael took it from there. He gently pushed into her, feeling her pussy slowly give way for him, until he was completely inside her. Then, he remained still for a few seconds so she could adjust to his size. When she grabbed his head and kissed him, he began fucking her. He started off slowly to give her time to warm up. Then, he went deeper. He pushed into her until he could go no farther, until he trembled from the effort, over and over again. He pounded her into the bed, making the springs creak in protest as he thrust into her and back out. They established a rhythm and breathed together as she pushed up and he pushed down, then reversed their movements as he withdrew. The whole time, his eyes never left hers. He could see every single thrust reflected in her eyes as she responded, and she could see his tension mounting as he fucked her harder and harder. His hair hung around her face, creating what could almost be described as a tunnel from his face to hers. Everything outside that tunnel was obscured. It was just the two of them.