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    Cia
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Dribbles - 15. Only For You

GA Writing Prompt #67: "They are already playing the entrance music, and you decide to tell me that now? Are you crazy?" And there is your first line. Just what is going on?

"They are already playing the entrance music, and you decide to tell me that now? Are you crazy?"

"It's not like I chose this to happen now!" I whispered hoarsely.

"Oh my god, SHUT UP!" the conductor, Mr. Morris, hissed at me. "Tanya, get over here. You're singing Timothy's part."

I flushed as she smirked at me. I was actually glad though. I mean, who wants to be a sopranist? My parents and Mr. Morris had been thrilled when my treble voice lowered only slightly in puberty, allowing me to continue singing soprano roles. Honestly, I hated it. So, I wasn't a big jock, or even really big in general, but I wasn't some effeminate sissy that wanted to squeak his way through life, always being mistaken for a girl on the phone and stuff.

"You stay behind the curtain," Mr. Morris ordered me. I nodded, knowing better than to speak.

The performance was okay, though Tanya flubbing several notes in my solo actually made me smirk as I felt a stab of bitter pleasure. She always wanted the solos, even though she wasn't very good, and Mr. Morris always gave them to me. She made my life hell in school and her twin brother, Tristam, was just as bad.

Going home after the performance, my parents stopped for ice cream.

"The doctor said it would be good for you throat," my mother said. "He said you just need a few days rest and you'll be fine." My parents exchanged a worried look they tried to hide from me. I saw it but it didn't bug me. They wanted me to get better. I hoped that this 'late' growth spurt at eighteen would mean that I'd finally move beyond my five foot four inch, high pitched, boy wonder phase. If I had my way no one would ever me sing again.

That night I snuck out of my room through my window. I jumped a few fences and crossed the street behind the neighbor on the corner and started tapping on Benny's window. He pushed it up, rubbing his face sleepily.

"What?"

"My voice is changing," I said hoarsely. I winced and swallowed hard.

"Oh! Is that why Tanya was singing your part tonight?" He helped me climb in the window, giving me a hug and then pulling me over to the bed.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to rest my voice and not talk so as not to strain and permanently damage my vocal cords."

Benny raised an eyebrow. "I take it that's why you're talking then?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm never singing another girl's part again if I can help it. I don't think I want to sing at all." I meant it too. I just wanted to be a regular guy, one that no one looked at twice. The way Benny had always seen me. Excited by him as I always was, I looked at Benny and couldn't resist leaning up to kiss his full lips. "The doctor said I was just a 'late bloomer' and I might even grow a couple of inches," I said happily when I pulled back from him.

I felt a hand creep down my belly. "Oh? I think I can feel a few inches already growing," he said with a grin. "Care to celebrate?"

"Hmm..." I hummed in pleasure. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On how good you are."

Benny's hand froze. "At what?"

I grinned as I pushed him back on the bed. I straddled him and rocked, making the most amazing noise come out of his mouth. His hands came up to clutch my hips, moving me faster. I leaned down to kiss him, pushing my body up to hover over him. He made another sound, full of disappointment.

"At how well you can scream my name," I whispered throatily as I leaned down to nuzzle at the bulge straining his zipper.

"Oh god," he moaned. He tugged me up.

"You'll still sing for me, won't you?" His hands slipped inside my pants and I cried out, unable to stop the sound before it was pulled from me by the blinding pleasure of being touched. He grinned as my voice cracked. "That's it, just like that. Sing for me; let me hear your new sexy sound."

He was right, I did actually sound a bit deeper. I still didn't want to sing but maybe in moments like this. I smiled at him.

"Only for you."

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Copyright © 2017 Cia; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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