24
The Out-of-Body Chip Encounter
Groaning in frustration as I think back to that afternoon, my mind’s trying in vain to slip, wanting so badly to revisit what happened the night of that same Labour Day party. Not only am I frustrated, but I’m feeling even more wanton and needy as I try to prevent those memories from taking over.
It’s useless.
Giving in, I nervously hop out of bed, my next steps clear, knowing I’ll take what I’m about to do to the grave. Tiptoeing over to my hamper, I reach down and swipe Coy’s briefs from off the floor. The need to be close to him right now is overriding any sense of the responsible, sound-minded, and independent woman I am. I strip off my own panties, and slip the smooth fabric of his boxers up over my thighs, feeling my desire start to pool, thinking about how the material where his cock has been is now resting against my mound. I’m clearly on an express train straight out of Coy City, barely bypassing Facebook-Creeping-Boxers-Sniffing Psychotown and arriving in a cloud of steam at Masturbating-in-Stolen-Briefsville station, and at this point, I couldn’t give a shit. My body is wound tight, the release I crave imminent, almost at a state of emergency. Especially since I have to work with that man tomorrow, I’m going to need to come tonight. The memory of Coy’s words all those years ago—and what passed between us later that same night—is wreaking havoc, fuelling my impending orgasm.
Once back in bed, I open my bedside table drawer and begin feeling my way around until the familiar smooth silicon is within my grasp. Hello, old friend!
Closing my eyes, I prepare to revisit The Out-of-Body Chips Encounter, allowing my We-Vibe Rave to be the understudy in tonight’s flashback performance. Shifting my body further down under the covers, images, recollections, and all-too-familiar sensations from that night start to form like tiny pixels, bringing images of Coy and me to life. My body remembers like it was yesterday, and wetness puddles between my legs, soaking into his boxers. My breathing accelerates and I give in. I need the release too much not to…
After having drunk a few too many of my brother’s beers (ones Kam and I had been stealing throughout the afternoon and well into the evening) I was feeling pretty freaking happy. The party was in full swing. My parents and their friends were a little tipsy, too, as they started to say goodbye to most of the older guests. The party would continue for the younger crowd, I had no doubt. Thankfully, my mom and dad would be none the wiser that I might have indulged in a few more than the standard two drinks I was permitted to have. I knew if Keaton caught me, he’d be pissed, even though he and Coy had done the same thing when they were underage (talk about double standards).
But, lucky for me, Keaton hadn’t noticed. The only thing my brother had seemed to be aware of today was Kami. I giggled as I made my way up the back deck to the sliding glass doors, remembering Keat’s furrowed brow and the dirty looks and death glares he’d been giving his friends all afternoon whenever he caught any of them looking her way. He was practically chasing her around the yard, all but begging her to put her cover-up back on.
Giggling again, I stumble into the house, making my way through the kitchen to the door which led to the basement stairs, where my mission was clear…I was hoping to find some more potato chips. I had the biggest craving. Making my way down the hall to the fruit cellar where my mom stocked an indecent amount of food and other supplies, I was in the middle of praying to the gods of Lay’s that my mom had one more bag of plain chips tucked away when I heard it. Its effect was immediate, stopping me in my tracks. It was a loud, deep, and undeniably sexy-ass groan, and it was coming from the rec room.
Coy’s pseudo-bedroom.
My heart began to pound inside my chest, my legs going a bit unsteady and my nerves taking on a mix of fear and excitement. Knowing McCoy was down here, a sliver of uneasiness rushed through me as I realized he might not be down here alone. Which had me contemplating (in the words of The Clash): should I stay, or should I go? Bolting back upstairs and pretending I hadn’t heard anything would have been the safer option, but after Coy’s and my encounter in my room earlier, I needed to know. I needed to see and hear what McCoy Graves was up to. My decision to stay was made in perfect time. Another low moan ricocheted off the hallway walls, landing right between my legs.
“Fuck it…” I inched closer to the room’s threshold, my goal. To see but not to be seen…
Shifting closer, I heard him moan again, followed by a deep command that, again, hit me right in my battleship.
“That’s right, babe. I want you to touch yourself for me.”
Oh God. I stood frozen. He had a girl with him.
“Yeah, I wish you could have stayed, too. Would have liked to watch you come in person.” When he said that, I felt myself relax a bit. I’d been wrong. He was alone. Holy shit, he’s phone sexing!
Willing myself to ignore him, I tried to convince myself to walk away, to carry on with my chip mission, but I couldn’t. A bigger part of me needed to hear how this was going to play out…and a desperate part of me wanted to pretend I was the one he was talking to. Positioning myself just inside the entrance to the rec room so I was leaning my back up against the wall, I stood stock-still and allowed my body to give in to Coy’s commands, even if they weren’t meant for me.
“If you were here, my mouth would be on your sweet pussy. You’d be riding my fingers, while I sucked on that tight little clit,” he rasped, and I swear I barely stifled my own moan as my stomach dipped. I pretended his words were indeed meant for me as I slipped my hand down the front of my bikini bottoms and awaited further instructions…
An “mmm” escapes my lips as I arch my back off my bed, the material of Coy’s briefs damp from where I’ve been teasing myself over and over as the memories of that night come flooding back. Using the palm of my hand, I continue to rub and grind down on my pussy. I’m getting wetter and wetter. No longer able to tease myself, I turn to my old friend, switch it on, and feel a wave of excitement rush through me as the familiar low hum fills my room: my We-Vibe Rave coming to life in my hand. Spreading my legs, I pull the black cotton away from my waist, giving me just enough room to slip my friend down inside the front. Once in position, I gently place the vibrator’s smooth head along my pussy lips, and start to move it directly over my clit. “Shit, yes. Hello, friend, how I’ve missed you…” I murmur. The ministrations feel so, so good. I’m slick, and beyond ready. Turning it up another notch, I let out a haughty breath and move my hand over the vibrator causing it to move up and down at an agonizingly slow pace, teasing myself as the silicone tip glides and dips ever so slowly in between my sensitive flesh.
“Oh fuck,” I call out, as I remember Coy’s dirty commands…
“Touch yourself, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” I reply, my legs starting to shake a little. I can feel my wetness against the material of his underwear as I turn up the speed a little more. I’m soaked.
“Are you wet for me, babe? Tell me how fucking hot and wet you are,” he had commanded, his voice gruff. And just like on that night, my free hand makes its way to my chest, my nipples both aching for attention. With my free hand I pull at each peak, gripping and rubbing my palm over the tips, bowing off the bed with each pass of my hand.
“Think of my tongue on you, in you. Feel me sucking on your sweet clit, swirling my tongue, teasing you and driving you wild…”
“Oh God, Coy!” I yell, my body trembling as I continue to move the vibrator in and out, and all over my aching pussy. I can see myself that night as clear as day, my back to the wall, my hand down the front of my bikini bottoms. I’d pulled down the cups of my swimsuit top, my nipples hard and greedy for touch, the cool breeze from the air conditioning offering nothing more than a little reprieve from the ache Coy’s words had elicited in my body.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I can hear myself panting as I turn up the Rave again, the vibrations causing my clit to pulse—a familiar tingling sensation overtaking my body. I reach down to pull the boxers lower, allowing me to take even more of the vibrator inside me, my need to be filled overwhelming. Within seconds I’m panting hard, Coy’s voice and his words seeming to come to life as my body jerks off the bed, a blinding orgasm taking over. Just like that night, I shout, “Coy!” as my orgasm leaves me breathless and shuddering, fighting for balance as I drop the We-Vibe on the bed beside me, shutting my eyes to ride out each final wave as it hits.
Unlike that night, when I open my eyes a few minutes later I smile a satisfied grin into my white ceiling, alone. Not like that night, when I’d opened my eyes after hearing Coy’s voice, realizing that he was no longer in the rec room on the phone, but instead standing in front of me. Talking to me.
His mouth had almost touched the shell of my ear as he’d played my body like a bloody opera conductor with his dirty words and sexy-as-hell commands. He stood watching me go off like a finely-tuned instrument, one played by his expert hands, but without ever having actually touched me.
“Motherfuck, you’re beautiful, East. That was so goddamn hot,” he’d said, stepping back and running his lust-filled gaze over my now satisfied and jellified body. “What the fuck you doin’ down here, Sprinkles, besides eavesdropping and distracting me?”
He shook his head before running his hand over his face, clearly distraught as realization of what just happened between us began to set in—or I assumed that’s what it was.
“I was getting potato chips. I had a craving,” was all I could manage while pulling up my bikini top, the reality of the situation setting in.
“Is that what we’re gonna call it? What this was? ‘Potato chips’?” He’d cocked his head to the side, his eyes dropping to my now-covered chest, then to my mouth. I remember so vividly how badly I had wanted him to kiss me then. All the words I’d ever known were lodged deep inside my throat; hell, maybe even in my toes. I couldn’t seem to say anything. So, instead of answering, all I did was nod, and Coy stood there smirking, that same trademarkable smirk I loved to hate. After a few awkward beats, I managed to let four of the stupidest words to have ever been strung together in a situation like this to escape my big fat mouth.
“I like potato chips.”
WTF??? Who the hell says this after getting off to your brother’s best friend, the guy you freaking secretly love? (Well, maybe not so secretly anymore, eh?). Luckily, Coy let it go. Reaching for my hand, McCoy moved it slowly up to his mouth, separating my index- and middle fingers as he drew them up and into his mouth. He had groaned, wrapping his tongue around each finger, before pushing them fully inside his mouth and proceeding to suck them clean.
“I really fucking like potato chips, too,” he’d said.
And we never spoke of that night again.
Not ever.