Stepbrother With Benefits 18 (Third Season) (10 page)

T
his last class
is too fucking boring. I want to fall asleep. You know what I would have done last year? Yeah, I would have fallen asleep. Or maybe just left. It's a lot easier to do in a college class. You can just make up some bullshit excuse about having to go to the bathroom or something, and then never come back.

Unless you're in a really small class, there's usually more than enough students in most lectures where the professor doesn't even notice. Or they don't care. One of those. Either one works for me.

Except right now I'm trying to be responsible, so yeah. Being responsible sucks balls sometimes. Not in a good way, either. Actually, now that I think about it, why the fuck do people say something sucks balls when it's bad?

Listen, I don't want to get too into this, because I'm trying to pay attention and take some notes in this class. But, yeah, so if I'm getting a blowjob or a handjob or whatever, and Ashley decides to be the sexy as fuck kinky freak I know she can be sometimes, and goes a little lower, uh... I can guarantee you I won't be complaining. I will gladly watch her gently pull one of my balls into her mouth with her tongue and her lips, then suck on it and roll it around like that.

Hopefully not just one, though. If you're giving attention to one, you've got to give attention to the other one. That's just how this works. It's kind of like how I'm not going to pay attention to just one of Ashley's breasts or nipples or whatever, right? I will give them both attention. I can't exactly promise equal attention between them, because it's not like I time myself with a stopwatch or anything, but I'll do my fucking best to make sure they get enough.

I'm a real fucking nice guy like that. A classy gentleman.

Anyways, back to class. It's boring, but it's almost done. I'm struggling, but I have notes. I don't know if these are good notes. I'll figure it out later. There's a couple pages of them, and I wrote them myself, so that's good enough for now.

That's how this is going, except then I get a text message. My phone is on vibrate, because I'm trying not to fucking distract anyone. I don't know if that's working, because I'm kind of sexy as fuck, and there's some girls sitting nearby that look like they want my cock, but that's not my fault. I'm not distracting them on purpose.

I take my phone out of my pocket covertly, all polite and shit, and I check who the text is from. Oh, fuck yes, it's from Ashley. That means I can read it now, right? Gives me a good excuse to stop paying attention in this class for a second. I think that's how this works.

I can't read it, though. It's not that kind of text. It's a picture, which is probably dangerous. Except, wait, fuck, no, it can't be that dangerous, right? She's with Brittany or whatever, and maybe Scarlet, so it's safe. It's probably just some cute picture of, uh... fuck if I know. What the fuck do girls take cute pictures of? Cats and their shoes or something?

The picture starts loading. I tap on it to make it full sized, taking up the entire screen on my phone. I don't know if that was a good idea or not. I couldn't even tell you. I'm kind of distracted at the moment.

This... what the fuck is this? Holy fuck, uh...

Wow.

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this picture. I want to go on the record and say that I think I'm a huge fan of this picture, but I don't know if I should admit that. I keep looking at it, trying to find some excuse for why I can be a huge fan, because of the artistic merit or something. The lighting and angles and all that, right? I'm channeling my inner Scarlet right here, talking about art or whatever the fuck, except... yeah...

Listen, I'm not going to say this isn't art. Maybe it's art. Actually, you know what? Yeah, it's art.

It's also sexy as fuck and I think I hate Ashley right now. We have a love-hate relationship going on, but she doesn't know it yet. Or she does. What a huge fucking tease.

Also, fuck you, Scarlet, and fuck you, Brittany. Just had to get that out of the way.

They took the picture from the top down, bird's eye view, whatever the fuck you want to call it. It was taken at my desk in my dorm room if I had to guess. On her knees at one side of the picture, front and center, is Ashley. She's got her mouth wide open, tongue sticking out a little. On one side of her is Scarlet, also on her knees, but she's shorter so she's kind of further down. Same fucking thing, tongue and mouth and whatever the fuck.

Then Brittany. Other side. Do I have to fucking explain all of this?

That's all good, one side of the puzzle here, except, uh... yeah, so like I said, they're probably by my desk, except it doesn't really look too much like it. I can tell because I can see part of my desk chair by Scarlet's knees, but that's it.

And then there's my glistening cock in front of them all. Ashley's fingers are wrapped around the base, which I'm guessing is how she's keeping it against the edge of the desk. By
my cock
, I mean they're fucking around with the dildo replica of my cock that I gave Ashley.

Yeah. Do you get it now? They sent me a fucking blowjob selfie or something, pretending like they're sucking my cock, using Little Ethan version 2.0 as the centerpiece for this erotic art showing. To be fair, Ashley's the only one actually touching it, so I guess that makes it slightly better or something. Fuck if I know.

I'm angry. And aroused. I'm not sure if I'm angry that I'm aroused, though.

I text Ashley back after probably staring at the picture for two minutes.

I think that's fair, right? It's not like I actually hate her, but I kind of hate her a little bit right now. Also, what the fuck, why is she showing them the dildo? Is that what girls do? Just show their fucking sex toys to each other?

Wait. Holy fuck! Maybe that
is
what they do? I've heard of those... fuck if I know what they're called. The sex toy parties? They make them sound all classy, but let's be honest here, a sex toy is a sex toy. I'm fine with giving it a classy name, because I guess most girls wouldn't want to use a vibrator called the Fuck-a-tron 2000 or whatever, but still.

That's cool and all. I have no real issue with it. Except now I'm wondering if they all have lesbian orgies or something at these sex toy parties? Like, what should I expect right now? If I head back to my room, am I going to find Ashley, Brittany, and Scarlet in a compromising situation?

This is the most complicated fucking thing I've ever had to deal with. How the fuck do relationships work? It's like, alright, fuck, is it cheating if it's a lesbian orgy? I think so. I really fucking think it probably would be, but I'm not sure if I'd be angry.

I think I need to get angry about the principle of it, though.

Wait. Fuck. What if I get to join in, though?

I get another text from Ashley, but I'm trying to figure this out first. Hold the fuck on, Princess. I'm doing relationship problem solving equations here.

This could be a test. That's one potential issue. If I end up getting lured into a foursome with three girls, and two of them are someone other than Ashley, it could be some sort of fucking test for whether I'm committed to my girlfriend or not. Like a trick question on a test. Fuck, man, you have no fucking clue how much trick questions piss me the fuck off.

Other than that, it could be fine.
Could
be. Except we have to consider the fact that Scarlet would be involved, and Caleb has a huge crush on her. He'd be pissed at me. Bros before... alright, so Scarlet's not a ho or whatever, but I think you get what I mean.

Brittany could work, except if I tell Scarlet that she's not invited to the group sex, but Brittany still is, that'd probably piss Scarlet off. I get it, too. That's kind of rude as fuck, you know? It's like, yeah, Scarlet, sorry I can't include you in this group sex, but Ashley and I are going to fuck Brittany now. Can you leave?

Alright. I've solved this problem. I understand. I guess I never really realized how difficult guys in relationships had it before. You have to make some important sacrifices for the greater good, but... yeah, they're important and it's good. I don't fucking know. Leave me alone.

I check the text from Ashley, and it's getting even more complicated.

Fuck, man. Fuck! Just... fuck.

Before I can change my mind, I text her back.

Yeah. See? That's a good answer. I'm a good boyfriend here. Not only did I de-escalate this situation, I told Ashley how fucking amazing and special she is. Which is true, because she is. I'm so fucking good at this.

She texts me back almost immediately, too.

Yeah, that's right. Winky fucking smiley face and everything. I win.

I think I won, except then I realize I'm sitting in my class alone. The teacher's staring at me and shaking her head. Oh, no, hold the fuck on!

"No!" I say, standing up. I grab my notebook and bring it with me. "I swear I wasn't fucking around! I took notes!"

She laughs and crosses her arms over her chest. "Is that so, Mr. Colton?"

"Yeah," I say, marching down to show her. I pocket my phone to get rid of that distraction, but otherwise I'm serious. Super fucking serious.

She holds out her hand for my notebook. I give it to her. She inspects it with a scrutinizing eye. Clearly I've impressed her with my note taking skills. Not going to lie, I'm pretty fucking impressed with them, myself.

"What's this say?" she asks, pointing to one of my lines.

I got this. Don't even fucking worry about it. I read the line, word for word.

"He likes orange juice," I say, loud and proud. "Seemed important. I didn't want to forget."

"You do realize I was reading a short story today? You didn't have to take notes. It was just supposed to be something for the class to listen to and enjoy. Your enthusiasm and ardor as far as the main character's enjoyment of orange juice is appreciated, though."

"Wait, hold the fuck up," I say.

She raises one eyebrow at me.

"Uh, sorry," I say. "Pretend there was no 'fuck' in that last sentence."

"It's fine," she says with a smirk. "What am I holding on for?"

"I really didn't have to take notes?"

"No, you really didn't have to take notes."

"So none of this is important?"

"Not particularly," she says. "You could rip that page out and throw it in the trash if you wanted."

"Do you mind if I do that then?"

"By all means, have at it," she says, gesturing with a flourish towards the trash can by her desk.

I rip the page out. It just doesn't seem like enough, though, you know? I crumple it up and toss it on the floor first, then stomp on it a little. Once it looks stomped enough, I grab it and toss it in the trash can.

"Don't forget to read the short story that starts on page fifty-four over the weekend," she says, grinning. "We're going to discuss it in class next week. You can take notes if you want, but we're going to talk more about what we liked about it, so it's not necessary. Keep an eye on the pacing of the story and look out for sentences you like, though."

"Alright," I say. "Got it. So if I like that he likes orange juice, I can write that down and talk about it next week?"

"Yes, except there's no orange juice in the story I've assigned as homework reading, so I'd suggest coming up with a new point of interest."

"Everyone likes orange juice, though," I say. "Even if it's not in the story, I bet all the characters fucking love it."

She shakes her head at me and laughs. "Read the story, Ethan, and you can discuss your thoughts next week if you want to stick with that angle. You'll need to back it up with information from the story, though."

"Right," I say. Then I think of something else. This is connected, I swear. "Hey, uh... can I ask you something? It's about a poem I read the other day. It's called
Love and Friendship
by Emily Bronte. Do you know it?"

"You were reading Emily Bronte?" she asks, perking up. "Honestly, I'm a bit surprised. What did you want to know about the poem?"

"Yeah, so... I was reading it, and after I finished, uh... I get the impression that Emily Bronte was kind of a sex freak? Good girl gone bad or something? Not in a bad way. I'm not judging her or anything. I thought it was cool. Erotic poems for your lover or whatever the fuck, right? I'm just wondering who she was writing to?"

"I... I don't really know what to say," she says, laughing. "Emily Bronte was known for being somewhat averse to love. Most people believe the poem is her way of talking about the pain love can bring. Love is not without its moments of happiness and pleasure, but to love someone is to give them the power to hurt you deeply, too."

"Alright, sure," I say. "But... so some people like that, right? Pain or whatever. BDSM and kinky fuckery. Maybe Emily Bronte had a secret lover who spanked her and she loved it. Could that have happened? I don't like that whole 'love can cause pain' angle. No offense, it seems old and boring."

"Hold on, let me see if I have this right. You think Emily Bronte was in a secret BDSM relationship with someone and wrote a love poem about it?" my teacher asks.

"Yeah, maybe."

"I've never heard that theory before, but spanking was a popular form of punishment in the Victorian era, so..."

Aw yeah. I knew it! "See?" I say. "So who do you think her secret lover would have been?"

"No one can say for sure, but if I had to point a finger, I might go towards the stablemaster," she says with a smirk and a nod. "What better way for her to sneak away on a secret tryst than to ride off with the man who takes care of the horses?"