Secret in a Suitcase: His Forbidden Desire

Secret
in a Suitcase: His Forbidden Desire

By
JJ Simone

Published by JJ Simone

Copyright 2013 JJ Simone

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When I heard
the honk from Dad's car, I was still swimming laps. Was it 4:30
already? Time flies during summer break! I jumped out of the pool and
threw a white t-shirt over my still-wet bikini. I had spent all
afternoon swimming with friends, talking about how excited we were to
start college in a week. Excited to live on our own, to go to parties
and meet boys.

“Guess who dropped by for a surprise visit?” Dad asked as
I climbed into the passenger seat.

I wrinkled my nose, trying to think who could possibly have come to
visit. One of my various aunts and uncles? Grandparents? Old friends?
Huh. I couldn't even guess. Unless – but it couldn't be, I
hadn't seen him in
years …

“I don't know,” I said.

“Brock from next door!” Dad replied happily. “He
wanted to see you off to college! Isn't that nice?”

“Brock!! Brock is in town?!” I practically screamed.

I was so excited! Brock was my next door neighbor that I grew up
with. He was four years older than me, so I always kinda tagged along
for whatever trouble he was getting into. But I always felt safe with
Brock around, and he never let anyone make fun of me. Even when it
wasn't “cool” to have a younger friend – let alone
a
girl
– he still treated me with respect. And my
parents loved Brock, too – his first job was as an apprentice
in my Dad's woodworking shop! His home life was kinda crazy, so he
was always over at our house. My parents really fell in love with
Brock.

But then Brock went to college four years ago. And since he went to
school on the other side of the country, I hardly ever saw him.
Between his schoolwork, job, and his band always being on tour, he
only got to visit once before … and even then, it was his
freshman year. After that, his parents divorced and moved away, and I
didn't think I'd ever see him again.

I couldn't wait. I was excited just to actually
see
him in
person. It felt weird to not have Brock around the last four years –
it felt like I grew up into a woman without him even around to see
me. I wondered if he'd even like to be around me, or if it'd be weird
now?

Dad pulled up into the driveway, and I sprinted out of the car and
barged through the front door. There was Brock, on the living room
couch. Wow, I hadn't seen him in so long! He looked like a
man
now. I ran up to him and gave him a huge hug.

“Jules! I missed you,” he said.

“Aw, Brock!” I squeezed him tight, pressing my face
against his big, manly chest. His smell filled my nostrils,
triggering a flash of memories of running around, playing outdoors
with my best friend.

“Jules,” he said, “you're
soaked
!”
Brock pulled back with a funny expression and tried to brush the
water off of his clothes. Poor guy! I hadn't even bothered to towel
off, and now he was all wet. He stared me over, probably studying how
different I looked.

Mom looked at me with eyebrows raised. “Did you even bother to
towel yourself off, Julie?” she asked. “Brock doesn't
need to see that. Go upstairs and change!” she commanded.

I laughed and giddily ran upstairs. After a quick shower, I threw on
a cute little romper and ran back downstairs to be with Brock and our
parents. We talked for hours until it was late, when Brock mentioned
that he was going out to see his friend's band play. He went into his
room to change.

After a while, Brock still hadn't come out of the guest room, so I
went to find him. I opened his door without knocking, which must have
frightened him – he was writing in a small black book, and he
scrambled to shut it and then sat on top of it.

“Whatcha writin', Brockie?” I asked, and playfully sat
next to him.

“Nothing, just my journal. Stay out of it, okay? It's private.”

“Aw, you keep a diary!” I teased.

“Oh, shutup, willya?” He started to tickle me and I
screamed, fighting back. I
hate
being tickled, always have!

“Leave me alone!” I yelled and ran for the door. At the
doorway, I turned and posed, dramatically draping myself across the
door frame, like I've seen sexy actresses do in old movies.

“... Have fun tonight!” I said, trying to sound
over-the-top
sexy,
all the
while trying not to laugh
.

***

After Brock
left, I watched TV with Mom and Dad until they finally went to bed.
Once I was sure they were sleeping, I snuck into the guest room,
determined to find his little black journal and see what exactly he
was so worried about me finding out.

I looked around his room and quickly spotted the only place he
could've hid the journal – in his suitcase.

I unzipped his suitcase and started removing stacks of his
neatly-folded clothes. His smell seemed to emanate from his clothes,
so distinct and fresh and strong. I don't know why it was so
comforting to me, I'd never experienced anything like this before!

I took out another stack and – aha! – found his little
black journal stashed below. I quickly flipped through and was amazed
by how much Brock had written. Four years' worth of Brock's life, all
of his college exploits, in this little book! I opened to a random
page, his sophomore year, and started to read.

Played a
show at Sins Bar last night. Pretty good crowd, they were dancing &
moshing & clearly having a good time. Everyone got pretty drunk.
Afterwards, met this girl Anna and her friend Inez. Took them
backstage for some drinks. They got good and drunk and asked me if I
wanted to see them make out. I said sure, what the hell. Didn't take
long before they were sitting in my lap and --

I started to
feel mad for some reason, so I stopped reading there. Is this why
Brock played in a band? So drunken floozies could throw themselves at
him? I thought I knew him better than that. C'mon Brock!

… But curiosity killed the cat, you know? I flipped to another
page.

. . . so I
broke up with Jessica today. Accidentally called her “Julie”
while we were fucking, and she picked a huge fight over it. I told
her, 'hey, Jessica, Julie, they're both J-names, you're both
important women in my life, mistakes happen.' She wouldn't drop it,
though. Said that she thinks I have some kind of weird attachment to
my neighbor based on a bunch of psychological crap she tried to use
on me. Of course I'm attached to her – she was the best friend
I had growing up. I love her. Get over it.

I was so
shocked! I couldn't believe that I had basically broken him and his
girlfriend up and I never even knew about it – or her, for that
matter. I have to admit, even though I didn't know her, some part of
me felt satisfied to know that he'd called out my name. Maybe you
just weren't good enough for him, Jessica. I started to read more
about their breakup:

. . . After
arguing for a few hours, I decided to pack up my things and told her
we shouldn't see each other anymore. She said fine, and started
throwing everything of mine into a box. Shit I didn't even want, like
my old toothbrush, and random knick-knacks … like, OK,
whatever. I'll take everything I've ever touched, I guess.

Then she took out my Clone-A-Cock dildo and threw it in the box,
too. What the hell am I supposed to do with that thing? It was
her
idea to do that. She'd said, “you have such a pretty cock –
it'd make such a nice dildo. I want to have it forever.” So she
went and ordered a Clone-A-Cock kit off the internet and pretty soon
I've got my dick in a silicone mold. I even remember asking her,
“what if we break up?” and she said, “I'd still
keep it.”

Well, apparently not. Now I've got this perfect replica dildo of
my own cock. The hell am I supposed to do with that?

I bit my lower
lip. Brock would
definitely
die if he knew I was reading this!
This was so
naughty
! I couldn't believe he made a replica of
his own penis! I wanted to see what it looked like – was it big
or small? It had to be big, right? Otherwise his girlfriend wouldn't
have wanted him to make a mold of it, I'm pretty sure. Yup,
definitely big, had to be big.

I decided I should stop snooping, since it isn't right. But I had to
read his latest journal entry, the one he didn't want me to see,
right? I flipped to the back and began to read:

. . . So
I'm back home for a couple weeks. Not much around the house has
changed. Not much except Julie. I mean, I've seen pictures, and I
knew she had grown up to be a pretty girl, but I had no idea that she
was a beautiful, sexy woman now. She's exquisite. She came into the
house wearing a wet t-shirt and bikini … I thought I might
drool. She has this juicy ass and these legs that go on forever. She
has an amazing, cut little stomach, and these perfect, perky tits
that just seem to bounce with every step ... God, I bet she drove the
guys fucking crazy at her school! I wouldn't have left her alone,
anyway.

So yeah, I think my neighbor is a babe. There you go, that one is
for you, Jessica. Maybe she was right with all that Freud
psychology-bullcrap after all. So what?

I closed his
journal, my mouth frozen in an “O” shape. My best friend,
Brock, said that about me? I couldn't believe it!

I stuffed his journal back into his suitcase and almost ran out of
his room … until my curiosity got the best of me, again. I
knew I owed myself at least one quick peek. I turned around and
slowly walked back to his suitcase and reached my hand in, past all
the clothes, and felt around the bottom of his suitcase.

It felt like something popped into my hand. I gripped my hand around
it and pulled it out, and came face-to-face with Brock's penis. I
mean, a replica of his penis.

I held it up. It
was
a beautiful penis. I understood why
Jessica had wanted a model of it. This was the closest I'd been to a
real penis before – I'd never even used a normal dildo. But I'd
seen plenty of porn, enough to know that Brock had a huge cock.

Even better than the size was how perfectly it was shaped. The shaft
was nice and thick, and a network of big veins covered its length. I
pressed my finger against one of the veins and imagined how it might
feel when there was blood pulsing through it, getting him hard as a
rock.

The head of his cock had such a pretty shape, it practically made my
mouth water. It was like a big cock-lollipop. I don't know if that
sounds ridiculous, but it's true! I could imagine, if I was one of
his girlfriends, how I'd lick all around his tip until he couldn't
take it anymore and was begging me to suck him off. It's not my fault
Brock has such a pretty cock …

I didn't even realize how horny I was getting while studying his
dildo. My other hand had slipped under my panties, and my finger
softly circled my opening, smearing my pussy juice all around. I
brought my finger up to my mouth and tongued it clean, tasting myself
– and suddenly, YIKES! I realized that I was fingering myself
in the guest bedroom!

I threw his cock back into his suitcase and ran to my bedroom, a much
safer place for me to get myself off. I got in bed and started
playing with myself – I played with my tits, but my nipples
just wouldn't get hard. I tried rubbing my clit, but I barely felt
anything. Sometimes, when I'm really horny, I'll stick the handle of
my hairbrush in my cunt and pretend I'm getting fucked … but
even that didn't work. I just couldn't seem to focus! All I could
think about was Brock's big, beautiful cock.

I snuck back to his room, tip-toeing the whole way. I grabbed his
dildo and went back to my room, quietly closed the door, and jumped
in bed.

I held Brock's manhood right in front of my face and started jerking
it, like he was really there. It seemed to stare right back at me.
Wow, it was almost intimidating! I wondered if it could even fit in
my mouth?

I brought it closer to my lips and kept jerking it.
Mmm
, I
thought,
it must be nice to have a big, warm cock like this in
your mouth
. I gently kissed the very tip. Then I kissed the
sides.

My pussy started to ache for my
touch. I put my free hand down there and started rubbing my lips. Oh,
they were so silky smooth!