Closing Night High Ch. 03

"So, when the cops knock on your door to arrest us for disturbing the peace, we should have our story straight. We could tell them we were watching some slasher flick, and we had the volume up too high. It might go over better than the truth—that a dirty, old man was sexing up an innocent, barely-legal schoolgirl. At least it can't be considered corruption of a minor at my age, even if I do feel thoroughly corrupted..." I keep rambling, because I haven't quite got my wits back, yet.

Caleb laughs against my chest, then rolls us over, so I'm the one on top, and wraps his arms around me. I kiss his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his lips, and when I move down to his jaw and throat, a few tears spill out and land on his skin.

He takes my face in his hands and makes me look at him. "We've got the whole night together, Em. I don't want to waste it thinking about all the nights we won't have." My sob alerts him that his words were the opposite of helpful. "Shh... How about we go down and heat up some of the food I got. There is no way I'll be able to keep up with my insatiable, young girlfriend if I don't eat," he says, playfully.

It's true. Hell, I don't think even I can keep up with me without food. I nod and roll off him, then hop down from the bed. As soon as I'm on my feet, my pussy makes a funny noise, as more of his cum gushes out.

"Well, that was embarrassing," I say, turning beet red.

"No, babe. It was fucking hot," he tells me and comes to stand in front of me. He reaches down and collects some of our mixed fluids onto his finger, then puts it in his mouth and sucks it clean.

Holy mother of...

"No. That was fucking hot."

* * * *

We barely sleep. Every time I manage to doze off for a few minutes, I wake up, scared that I've lost too much of our precious time together. Then I wake him with my desperate kisses or my hand stroking his cock back to life. I'm really impressed that my older man is able to perform as often as he does. I guess his body is afraid of wasting time, too.

When his dick is spent and my pussy is sore, he takes a quick shower and heads downstairs, while I stay in his comfy bed. Eventually, I muster the strength to face the day. After securing my hair on top of my head, I take my own shower. All clean and wrapped in a towel, I make my way back to his bedroom. My clothes are piled up on the bed, nicely folded and looking clean. I have the best boyfriend, ever. All you other boyfriends out there can go suck a dick—unless you're into that, in which case, lick a pussy—because you will never be as awesome as mine.

I slip on my pink bra and thong, then pull my tiny shirt over my head. After my frilly white socks are on my feet, I grab my shorts, then rethink it and put them back on the bed. The smell of eggs and yummy bacon is wafting up from the kitchen, so that's my next stop.

When I reach the doorway, I pause to take in the view. Caleb is at the stove, spatula in hand, facing away from me. He's only wearing black boxer briefs that look super cute hugging his tight ass. Quietly, I pad over to the kitchen table and hop up on it. He has music playing, and when a new song starts, he sings along.

My heart stops.

Caleb can sing. Like, really sing. His voice is deep and gravelly, and it gives my chills. The song is a sad one. I'm almost too distracted by his voice to listen to the lyrics, but when he sings, "Are you the one that I've been waiting for?" I start paying attention. It's a love song, but it's like a pessimistic yearning for love, kind of like his tattoo. It's almost painful to hear him sing the words.

When the song is over, I walk up behind him and throw my arms around his waist, hugging him tight. With me still clinging to him, he turns off the burners and turns around, immediately capturing my mouth with his. The kiss is loaded with desperation, and I let him take what he needs from me. I take just as much in return.

I don't know how many minutes pass, but when he finally finds the will to remove his lips from mine, he looks down at what I'm wearing. His reaction is priceless.

"Shit, Em. Are you sure you can't just move in here? We can go off the grid, so even if the whole damn world sees that video, we'd never know about it," he says, as he cups my bare ass in his big hands. "I can home school you until you graduate, and you can take your college classes online. We can make love whenever the fuck we want. And when you're not naked, you can wear something like this." He gives my cheeks a good squeeze to punctuate his proposal.

God damn it, that sounds tempting, but... "Caleb, we need to come up with a real plan. Actually, I had an idea when I was in the shower." People always say you do your best thinking there. Turns out, there's some merit to that. "We could do a kind of long distance relationship thing." I smile, proud of my own genius.

He just looks confused. "Babe... We live fifteen minutes from each other. We're in the same building forty hours a week."

"I didn't mean there would be actual, physical long distance, just that we could treat our relationship as if there were." Again, genius. "We can text and call each other as much as we want. And at night, we can Skype." I say that last part with a couple exaggerated winks. "The anonymous prick would never have to know."

Caleb quickly gets on board with the idea. "Will you put on more shows for me, like the one in the bathroom last night?"

I go up on my tiptoes, pressing all of my body against all of his, and whisper in his ear, "I'll do anything and everything you want me to." Then I bite the lobe and tug on it, growling playfully. His cock twitches against my hip, and I swat his ass. "Not right now. Right now is for bacon. Feed me!"

* * * * *

We spend the next few hours snuggling on the couch, watching—but not paying attention to—old Law & Order reruns, because they're on pretty much always.

At exactly twelve o'clock, I hear my phone whistle on the end table, letting me know I have a new email. I freeze, because it has to be from the perv who filmed us. Caleb sees that I'm not physically capable or emotionally willing to grab the phone, myself, so he reaches over me and picks it up. After asking for my passcode, he opens up the email app.

"It's from the same address," he says, his tone of voice frighteningly menacing.

I look over, then, because he shouldn't have to read it alone.

Cinderella,

I hope you had fun last night.

Time to say goodbye. Go home. NOW.

And remember—

MINE

"Now?" I shriek. "But I'm not ready. I can't leave you, Caleb. I can't do this." I start to hyperventilate, and he kisses me fiercely to stanch the flow of panic bleeding out of me.

I need him. Like, right now. If I have only minutes left with him, I'm going to spend them with our bodies locked together. Not breaking our kiss, I swing a leg over, so I'm straddling him. I yank his boxer briefs down, just far enough to free his hardening cock and heavy balls, and after stroking him to get him fully erect, I pull my thong to the side and sink down onto him.

I'm not very wet—fear and extreme emotional pain aren't the most effective aphrodisiacs—but I don't care. It's only fitting that it should hurt a little. Everything about this hurts. At least I know I'll be sore the rest of the day. It'll be a reminder that he really was mine, even if it was only for two nights.

His tongue enters my mouth while his cock is sheathed in my cunt. I start producing more lubrication, making it easier to ride him as savagely as I want. His hips don't move, and though his hands are on my waist, they're not there to guide me. He's letting me do what I need to, and I love him for it.

God, I love him.

I fuck him with one goal—to feel him find his release in my depths. It's so stupid, so shortsighted, but when I leave here, I want to leave with a piece of him inside me, even though it'll all leak out within a few hours.

Feeling his thick cock throb against my slick walls, pumping his seed into me, triggers my own orgasm, and we cum together one last time. Keeping his pulsing cock inside me, I collapse onto his chest, and he holds me close as I cry uncontrollably. When we do get up, knowing what could happen if we wait too long, I refuse to let him clean me off. I just slip my underwear back into place and let his cum soak through the fabric.

Once I've splashed some cold water on my face and put my shorts and boots on, I grab my phone. Caleb's back on the couch, and I sit on his lap.

"If we're going to be apart, I'm going to need photographic evidence that you were—are—mine," I say and wave my phone. "So... selfie time."

"As long as you don't call it that, I'm all for it. I need to be able to see your face whenever I want."

I hold the phone at arm's length, and once we're both in frame, looking at ourselves on the screen, I hold down the shutter to put it in burst mode. As the camera clicks away, we go from facing the phone to facing each other, our lips meeting in a soft kiss.

I send him the pics, and then it's time for me to leave. When we get to the front door, he's about to step outside with me, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"You shouldn't. He's probably watching, and I don't want to piss him off."

"Fuck him," Caleb spits. "Until you get in your car and drive away from me, I'm going to do whatever the hell I want."

His logic is sound enough, plus I don't want to leave him until I absolutely have to, so I let him walk me to my Jeep. I lean against the driver's side door, and he moves in to give me one last, possessive kiss. He presses his forehead to mine so hard, it feels like he's trying to fuse us together.

"I love you, Emilie," he says, breaking my heart. "There will never be anyone else for me."

All I have the strength to say in return is, "I love you, too," and then I'm gently pushing him away, getting into my car, and watching his anguished face as I pull out of his driveway. Then he's in my rearview mirror.

This really fucking sucks.

* * * * *

On the short ride home, I keep the windows rolled all the way down, in the hopes of airing out the pungent smell of sex that clings to me. If my nose can pick it up, my parents' certainly will. Sure, I'm eighteen and legally free to do whatever I want, but there are still some adult things I'd like to keep hidden from them. Dad doesn't need to know that his little princess still has a man's cum leaking out of her pussy. And he would absolutely flip his shit if he knew that man is just a few years younger than he is.

Damnit. Just thinking about him makes my heart ache so much, I have to press my hand to my chest to make sure it's still beating. I take a few deep breaths to try and calm myself, so I can face my parents as the normal, bubbly diva they expect me to be. It's funny how acting like yourself so much harder than acting like other people.

Before I get out of the car, I text Eric.

lots to talk about. come over asap?

I keep it vague, because I don't want him worrying about me just yet. I want to hear all about his date first. It's such a huge milestone for him, and I need to be a good best friend and hold off spoiling it as long as possible.

When I get to my front door, I pause to put my game face on—bright eyes, permasmile, and overall sunny disposition. After just a few seconds of that, I'm already exhausted.

Buck up, Em. You've got this.

My father's on his decrepit recliner, watching a women's tennis match. Short skirts and lots of grunting? Way to be pervy, dad. I throw my bag on the floor and plop down on the couch.

"How'd everything go, yesterday?" my dad asks, not tearing his eyes from the TV.

"Oh, fine," I lie, "except they gave me a stupid hammer. Can you believe it?"

"Tell you what. I'll get you your very own drill for graduation. How does that sound?" Sounds good, actually. My dad rocks.

"Can it be pink?" I ask with a forced smile, trying to sound like my normal self.

"I'm not sure they come in that color, but if they do, absolutely." He finally looks my way and flashes me a big grin, fully aware that he's the best dad ever.

Mom, however, is a soggy, stinky, wet blanket. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," she chimes in, her mom-face in full effect. Sure, she's right—it's 100% not a good idea—but I want one, anyway.

There's a knock at the door, and I jump to my feet, but mom makes it there first. When she sees Eric, she is understandably confused. I'm supposed to have just come from his house, so it's a little odd that he's standing in our doorway, five minutes after I arrived home.

"Did she leave something behind?" mom asks him.

"Nah. We were in the middle of planning our joint graduation party, but Kyle kicked us out." Eric's loser older brother is notorious for being a massive tool, so the lie works.

"Your joint what?" mom all but shrieks.

Lacking the energy to draw out the deception, I grab Eric's hand and drag him upstairs. We both take off our shoes and sit on cross-legged on my bed, facing each other with expectant faces, waiting for the other to start talking.

Knowing for sure that he needs to go first, I say, "Well...?" He just blushes, not saying a word. "I'm not above enhanced interrogation techniques, Eric," I threaten. He knows better than to think I'm bullshitting him.

"Yeesh, Em. Fine." But then he looks away, clamming up again.

Oh, no you don't. "If that's how you want to play it, how about I make guesses, and you confirm or deny them?" He nods in agreement, and I get started. "You and Cutie—"

"Parker," Eric interrupts.

"Hot name. Ok, so you and Parker go out to eat."

"Yep."

"At the diner."

"Yep.

"And then he sucks your dick in the backseat of his car." I figure I'll jump right to the good stuff, not thinking for one second that Eric would've moved that fast. His bright red cheeks give him away, though. "Seriously? I was actually right about that?" I am an Emilie-shaped ball of shock right now.

"No!" he protests, a little too vehemently. "But... after dinner... we did kind of jerk each other off." He mumbles that last part, but I hear him, loud and clear.

"Whoa..." is all I can manage. Oh, how the tables have turned! Just last night, he was the one astounded by my sexual adventures. "Is it weird that I think that's super hot? Oo—did you both cum?"

"Well, yeah. And it was. Super hot, that is." He's beaming, and he starts sharing details freely, now that I've forced open the floodgates. "Em, it was amazing. And, not to offend you or anything, but his hand is way better than your pussy."

"No offense taken," I say, honestly. I am fully confident in the power of my puss, given the number of times it made Caleb cum last night and this morning. I inwardly flinch, remembering that I won't be making him cum for what might be a very long time—if ever again—but when I see the look of concern on Eric's face, I shake it off and say, "Go on."

"We were at the diner for hours, just talking. We had to keep ordering coffee, so the waitress wouldn't kick us out. It was so hard not to touch him that whole time, but neither one of us is ready to come out to people, yet, so we had to keep our distance. I mean, you know about me, and his mom knows about him, but that's all we're comfortable with right now."

"At least you're both in the same place with that," I offer. "I'm sure it makes things easier."

"It does," he says. "So, by the time we got to his car, we were so turned on, we had to get our hands on each other right away. He moved his car to the back of the lot, right next to the dumpsters—"

"Very romantic," I interject, heavy on the sarcasm.

"Very secluded, which is all that mattered." Good point. "And then we kissed, and I swear, his lips are the best things ever. After that, it was like we couldn't stop ourselves. His hand started rubbing on the bulge in my pants, and I don't know how I didn't blow my load right away. I wanted to make him feel good, too, so I did the same thing to him."

I really shouldn't be getting wet picturing my best friend and his male date playing with each other, should I? Nope. Bad Emilie. But he's being so damn descriptive, it's like listening to an erotic book-on-tape.

"I wanted to really feel him, though, you know?" Oh boy, do I know. "I checked to make sure he was ok with it, and then I undid his jeans and pulled out his cock." His eyes sparkle, remembering it. "It is so different from holding my own, and the look on his face..."

I smile at his blissed-out expression, and then I happen to glance down. He's got a a very healthy erection going on down there, tenting his shorts. I don't think he even realizes it, and I'm not about to point it out to him.

"So, he pulled mine out too, and we started stroking each other. It only took a minute or two before we were cumming in each other's hands. Everything we did was a first for both of us, and, Em... I was so glad it was with him." He looks ridiculously happy, and I am genuinely excited for him.

"So, what happens next? Are you guys going out again?"

"Yeah," he says, grinning like a fool. "We're kind of together. I have a boyfriend, Em. Can you believe it?"

He's giddy as hell, and I try to keep my smile in place, but I just can't. Eric gets to be with his boyfriend. They may not be able to flaunt it at school, but they can go out together every fucking night, if they want to. Nothing is stopping them.

Of course, Eric sees the misery I'm trying to keep off my face. I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it for long, but at least I got to hear about his wickedly hot night, first.

He immediately jumps to the wrong conclusion. "Did Caleb hurt you? I'm going to fucking kill him," he seethes.

"Stop, Eric. He was... wonderful. The whole night was wonderful. I can't even describe it," which is kind of unfair, given how graphic he was about his date. "He told me he loves me," I say before falling forward and sobbing into my comforter, getting it all gross with my snot and tears. Eric grabs my shoulders and pushes me back upright. He sees my red, puffy, bloodshot eyes and panics.

"Something happened, though. If it wasn't Caleb, then what was it?" he demands.

I grab my phone from my purse, then, and pull up the first email. I hate the thought of anyone seeing this, but Eric isn't anyone. He's my best friend, and I trust him more than I trust myself, so I show him.

He has the same reaction Caleb did—stunned silence and loss of blood flow to the face. Knowing it's about to get worse, I lean forward and press the link to open the attached video. It's about five minutes long and includes sound, but he only makes it ten seconds in before he's seen enough.

When he finally speaks, he says, "I have to say this first, because it cannot go unsaid. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"Yeah... I know," I agree, because he's not wrong. That's part of the problem.

"But more importantly—I am going to murder this perverted motherfucker."

Eric looks as deadly as Caleb did when he said nearly the same thing. For the first time since getting that email, I feel a tiny spark hope that the punk ass bitch might go down.

* * * * *

As soon as Eric leaves, I crash. In the past two nights, I think I've netted a total of five hours of sleep, and my body finally waves the white flag of surrender. When I wake up, I expect to feel rejuvenated, but I'm as wiped and depressed as I was when I fell passed out. I decide that the solution is to be productive, so I download Skype, dig my bluetooth earbuds out of my desk drawer, and put together an adorably sexy outfit. It really does feel good to be doing something that doesn't involve wallowing in my own misery.