Free Eighteen (18) by J.A. Huss

seconds, relaxing into my post-orgasm state, lying naked in my bed, and thinking about all that happened today. This man, I moan internally. He’s probably more than I can handle. No, not probably. He is. Ten years makes a big difference in sexual appetite.
    I have no idea what all that was but holy hell, it was hot. And I like it. I might not think it’s normal, but I like it. And I’m going to picture his perfect cock and what he might look like sitting in that chair at school when he beats off in front of me.
    Sick, Shannon. You’re sick.
    But I don’t care.
    I get up and grab my shorts from the patio, realizing that he took my shirt with him.
    What will he do with it? Smell it as he jerks off? Wrap it around his cock? Sleep with it under his pillow?
    I smile at that image and walk back inside to put my clothes back on. I check on Olivia. She’s still asleep, so I go back to reading my assignment for English, wondering what kinky shit Mateo will have for me tomorrow.
    Another text comes in. It’s a picture of a fully erect cock from Unknown Number shooting semen all over my tank top.
    He fucking came on my shirt and sent me a picture of it.
    Unknown Number: Tomorrow it will be your face. But don’t worry, I’ll have my fingers inside you when I do it. You can come on them.
    I go back in my room and lie on the bed.
    Facing the window.
    It takes me less than thirty seconds to come again.

Chapter Thirteen
     

    “Why not?”
    I sigh. Poor Sunday. He’s confused. “I got back with my ex-boyfriend,” I lie. “And he doesn’t want me riding to school with anyone.”
    “OK.” Sunday sighs as we turn into the parking lot. “But you know what they say. Once an ex, always an ex.”
    “Do they say that?” I laugh.
    He smiles big but doesn’t look at me as he pulls into a parking spot. “They do, Daydreams. They absolutely do. So when the shit goes bad again, you know where I am.”
    “You’ll be here, huh?”
    “I will,” he says.
    We both get out of the car and then we’re standing on opposite sides of the hood again. “See you at lunch? Surely he doesn’t care if you sit with friends at lunch?” Sunday asks.
    “Yup, see you at lunch.”
    He smiles as he turns away and just like yesterday, a couple of other boys join in with him as they walk.
    I turn away too, heading to my locker out in no-man’s-land.
    “Hey, Daydreams,” I hear from behind me. I turn to see Sunday smiling at me. “Don’t ditch me, OK? I still like you.”
    “Promise,” I say. I watch him turn back to his friends and they push him and probably make jokes about him saying that in front of everyone. But I like that about him, I realize. He’s honest. And even though Mateo said to stay away, I really don’t understand what makes Sunday such a bad guy. It’s not like he’s a teacher fucking a student, right?
    First period is graphic design, which is pretty much the only class I enjoy. But since I took nothing but art most of last year, it’s not challenging.
    I daydream instead of working today. First Sunday, since he’s fresh in my mind. But Mateo too. I have no idea what to expect at class this afternoon. I don’t have that stupid science class beforehand, so I don’t need to be there until five. I guess that gives me time to figure out a ride since I can’t rely on Sunday anymore.
    Fowler shows up for second period with no apology for missing yesterday. Maybe I’m just sheltered, but if a teacher didn’t show up for class in Ohio, I’m pretty sure they’d be fired.
    California is a mystery to me. Everyone is so different.
    I walk laps with Josie and Mary, listening to them chat about boys, as usual. But I don’t add anything. Every girl I come into contact with is only interested in prom. I’m definitely not going to prom. Not that I even have a date because I’m pretty sure Mateo has no plans to take me. Not that he could. Older men definitely have their limitations.
    Economics is boring. And then it’s lunch.