Page 53 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
I can’t help talking dirty to Sutton. She seems to love it and moans around my cock as I swell even further in her mouth.
She flattens her tongue, licking and swirling the turgid flesh of my erection before she sucks me back down. Each time I hit the back of her throat, my hips punching upwards, she chokes and gags a little, and I get impossibly harder. But I wouldn’t have her stop for anything.
How I’m able to keep my attention on the road is beyond me. But it’s not even a minute later, when my clasp on her hair tightens, and the pleasure crashes over me, my release shooting hot and hard inside her mouth.
She swipes her hand across her mouth after she pulls off, and I just stare at her in disbelief, still panting from my climax.
I tuck myself back inside my pants, feeling the post-orgasm satisfaction sweep over me. Sutton adjusts herself back in her seat, smiling proudly when she says, “There. Now I can say I’ve given road head.”
* * *
We continue traveling northeast along Interstate 95, through smaller, privileged commuter towns like Darien and Stamford, until we pass New Haven, the home of my alma mater, Yale University.
As we do, Sutton asks, “Do you remember the time when Mel and I snuck out and showed up unannounced on campus?”
Our hands are clasped together over the center console and I bring her hand to my lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles, recalling the exact memory she’s referring to.
“As a matter of fact, I do. I had no idea what I was going to do with two fifteen-year-old girls in my dorm room for the night. I was so pissed at Mel that weekend. She was such a handful.”
A heavy silence falls over us as I remember bits and pieces of that weekend years before. Mel had always had a stubborn streak, made worse after our mother’s death and all the changes that occurred as she hit puberty. It was during that time when I left for school an hour away, turning my back on my younger sister who needed guidance and structure, love, and protection.
Sutton gives my hand a shake, pulling me out of my reverie. “Hey, you okay? Is it okay to talk about this?”
I smile tightly. “Of course. Thank God for you, Button, because at least you tried steering Mel in the right direction.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sutton’s head turn to stare out the window, watching groves of trees, lampposts and mile marker signs whiz by along the highway.
“I didn’t do a very good job of it.”
Tugging her hand so she snaps toward me, I give her a curt head shake. “We are not doing this today. We are not feeling sorry for ourselves. We already talked through this, and you have nothing to be ashamed about. Mel had issues. Deep, hurting pain that she chose to deal with in her own headstrong way. Honestly, I noticed it that weekend but chose to ignore it, unable as a twenty-one-year-old to manage my own teenage sister. I thought she was just acting out and being a brat full of rebellious teen angst. But you, Button. You were the angel on her shoulder.”
Sutton gives me a half-hearted smile and then, as if shaking off the melancholy, pipes up with her own memory.
“That weekend was the first time I’d ever gotten drunk.”
“Glad to know I was such a good influence,” I snort. “I do remember you puking your guts out in my toilet that night.”
And then a look of horror strikes across her face, her hand flying to her lips to cover her open mouth.
“Oh my God, I think I told you my secret that night. Do you remember?”
Chuckling, because I do vaguely recall her spilling the beans, I shrug innocently. “I’ll never tell.”
She bats at my chest, and I duck out of her way, laughing with mirth but grab her hand and hold it in my grasp once again.
“I think you may have mentioned you’d never been kissed by a boy, and you’d wanted me to kiss you.”
Sutton’s head hangs down between her shoulders like a sad puppy. “Oh shit. I’m always humiliating myself with you.”
Nudging her with my elbow, I ask the obvious question, “How did you remedy that problem and get your first kiss?”
Sutton pinches her lips together as if debating whether to share it with me. I nudge her again. “I’ll tickle it out of you if I have to.”
I get the feeling it’s another embarrassing truth, but it’s common for first kisses to be awkward and uncomfortable. Especially when it happens between two kids, both uncertain what to do or how to do it.
She clears her throat and lowers her eyes to her lap, evading my gaze. “It wasyou.”
Her voice is so soft, and the noise of the highway so loud, I’m not sure I hear her correctly.
