Be Myself! - 19. It's a Guy Thing

We were still at Emma’s party when Olivia convinced me to spend the rest of the exam period at her house. It had started as an innocent conversation about how Henry’s arms would finally be put in casts next week and it somehow evolved into a discussion about what to do during our last week of exams. Olivia, Henry and I would have Physics on Monday and Geography on Thursday. She wanted the three of us (though me in particular), to have regular study sessions at her house. She figured once Henry was freed from the external fixtures he would be dying to be out of the confinement of his provisory room as often as he could, so she wanted the study sessions to happen as soon as possible.

“So, you want me to go to your house every day? What will I tell my parents?”

“The same you’ve always told them: we’re holding a study group for the hardest exams and you’ve been chosen to be our substitute teacher because you’re the smartest brain in our whole year. You said your parents liked that story, and it’s not even a complete lie!”

“Yes, but I was supposed to be following a study schedule that my father put together for me. He won’t be very happy if I suddenly abandon it altogether.” Mum had already told me she was not happy with my little ‘escapades’, even if she believed they had truly educational purposes. If my father took her side, I would probably not be allowed out of the house at all.

“You can still try. Worst case scenario you can just sound really embarrassed so he will think you’re hiding a secret romance and be proud of your straighteness and sexual prowess.” Olivia spoke like there was no question that my father would prioritise sex over my perfect grades and entire academic future. This excuse may have worked before, when the toilet incident was fresher in his memory, but with my most important exams approaching (Biology on Wednesday, German next week and Physics the week after that), this was bound to change. “You won’t know until you try.”

In the end, I was surprised to realise that Olivia had been right. Wanting to get this over and done with as quickly as possible, I went to my father as soon as I got home to let him know that my classmates had enjoyed the study group so much they wanted me to work with them every day. My father took a few long seconds before he said anything, during which time I felt that the sand clock counting the days until all the lies crashed over my head became faster; the sand fell over me, so heavy I could not move or escape from its grim implications. Fortunately, the feeling faded as soon as my father spoke.

“Interesting. This would definitely take you away from your ideal study schedule, but if you think you can ace the exams with just those study groups, then you can try.” My father looked at me in the eye, proud and yet threatening. “Of course, I trust your ability to know your own limits. If you think you cannot achieve our desired target marks after a couple of days, you should stop those groups and return to your schedule. Whichever way you decide to go, I am expecting only the best results from you, or else…”

I did not need to hear the end of the sentence to know what my father meant. I nodded to him and retreated to my room. The next couple of hours were spent chatting with Olivia on the computer; we arranged to meet every day at ten o’clock in the morning until the exams were over (apart from days when we would be sitting exams). I would be welcome to stay until after dinner or even sleep over, but it would be up to me to decide how long I stayed there on a daily basis.

As much as my brain tried to be cautious about it, my body had already decided I would do as many sleepovers as I could get away with.

(...)

The first week of the study group went surprisingly well. We invited Hannah and Helena to come along too, but they decided not to come because they wanted to study together at Mr Smith’s house with Jean, Edward and Ariadne. They told us that because of their disagreement over the blond’s conduct, they were no longer friends, but at the same time it meant they felt compelled to study together in Jean’s presence to police each other’s behaviour. Their reasoning made no sense to me, but Hannah and Helena were the last people I felt comfortable asking for explanations. Henry agreed to join us from the second week onwards, once he was free from the metal rods in his arms.

Olivia and I met on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday (she had an exam on Monday, I had one on Wednesday). I stayed over for the weekend, and on Monday first thing in the morning we went with Henry and his parents to the hospital to see his external fixtures replaced by brand-new casts (and be the first to write silly messages on them). Even though we arrived at the hospital early, there were so many people around that by the time we were done it was almost lunch time. Olivia and I returned to her house afterwards, but Henry had his Arts and Crafts exam in the afternoon. Even if the cast gave him a wider range of movement (only his right arm was immobilised above the elbow), he was still far beyond the motor coordination required for skilled artistic work (it did not help that he was taking this exam at Credit level). We were not sure the school would be able to do anything to help Henry’s grade, so to cheer him up Olivia and I promised to throw a party for him in the evening.

“We should call Jean,” Olivia told me as she deposited a pile of plates and cutlery in my arms. Her father and Sam were cooking the evening’s party food while her mother was out shopping for suitable decorations. “I think Henry would be happy to see him.”

“Yes, that’s for sure.” We arranged the plates around the living room table and called the aforementioned blond. Jean did not need much convincing to come to the party, though he seemed to be making an extra effort to hit on me at least once per sentence in the two minutes spent on the call.

“Ok, then. If Henry’s parents come as well, we’ll be nine people,” Olivia calculated, looking at the table we had just finished setting. “We’ll need an extra chair.” Hers was the kind of table that had an extra top of exactly the same dimensions as the original one hidden underneath it, so that it could be extended to fit more people on special occasions like this one. Once it was properly set up it became a big square with room for two chairs on each side. “Oscar, please tell dad that he’ll be cooking for nine people today. I’ll grab a chair from their room and find a place to squeeze it in.”

I did as I was told, or at least tried to. Mr Viñas was wearing the same vaguely pornographic apron as on my previous visit; and even though I had seen it before, the sight of a grown man in such feminine clothes was still flagged as repulsive in my head. Watching him and his son interact amidst pots and pans and chopped vegetables like it was the most normal thing in the world made so many alarm bells go off in my brain at once that I had to leave the kitchen almost as soon as I had entered it without saying a word.

“Oscar, are you ok?” Olivia asked me. I was in the corridor resting my back against the wall; she was coming out of the living room, presumably going to the kitchen. “Did something happen?”

“No, not really,” I said, mostly because I did nothing but get in and out in a matter of seconds.

“Then what’s up? You look like you’ve just had a nightmare.” She approached me and got on her tiptoes to reach my face. Instinctively I crouched so she did not have to strain herself too much. I did not want to tell her I was afraid of a man in an apron, particularly a man I knew to be a good person. And because I knew none of them thought there was anything wrong with putting a man to do a woman’s job, I felt silly confessing the reason of my fears. They would not understand, or most likely they would ask me questions and make me think of answers I was not willing to deal with.

“It was nothing,” I lied, though as per usual I was not very convincing. Olivia raised an eyebrow, but made no comment.

“Did you talk to dad?” She asked instead.

“No.” Olivia sighed and went into the kitchen without asking me to follow her. She came out a minute later with an extra set of plates and cutlery and told me to help her set up the living room. No questions were asked about my fear of aprons, but from time to time I caught her staring at me with a worried expression.

(...)

Henry and his parents arrived just five minutes before Jean. Ms Savage received the guests and took them to the living room corner. Three couches and an armchair formed a quasi-circle around a large-screen television with a coffee table in the middle, which was currently filled with tasty appetisers. Henry and his parents sat on a three-seated couch, while Ms Savage sat in the armchair; Olivia and I sat on a loveseat in front of the Watsons. When Jean arrived, he invited Henry to sit with him on the remaining couch, and from then on neither paid much attention to the conversations around them. Even though I knew my friends’ parents, it still freaked me out to see that all the adults were perfectly fine with ignoring the intense make-out happening right under their noses. I did my best to follow their lead, but it did not prevent me from turning towards the couple whenever a particularly loud moan reached my ears.

“Boys, food will be served now. You can carry on later,” Ms Savage told Jean and Henry when her husband and son appeared in the living room with our dinner. Jean reluctantly let go of Henry and we took our seats. The two pairs of parents sat facing each other, while Jean and Henry sat facing Sam, Olivia and I. Because he was the youngest, Sam was told to sit on the borrowed chair, and since it was Henry’s party, the Viñas siblings were by default the ones who had to be squashed with the extra place setting. We still had more than enough room to eat, though, and dinner was a very pleasant affair, even if Jean sometimes reached for my legs under the table.

(...)

“So, Henry, what do you plan to do now that you can almost use your arms?” Olivia asked our guest of honour. We had finished most of the food, but the nearly-summer-solstice sun was still shining brightly in the sky and the ‘safe’ conversation topics were mostly gone. Henry was about to answer when Jean did it for him instead, leaning against the brunet while his hands disappeared under the table.

“We have plans already. Lots of them.” Henry’s face flushed and he glanced towards his parents before hanging his head in embarrassment. It was interesting that he seemed so ashamed now, when all Jean did was hint at possible private activities some point in the future, but had no issues with the much more explicit snogging session earlier on the couch. Maybe it was because Jean’s mouth had the power to make anyone lose all sense of public decency (I knew it better than anyone else). “I’m going to his house after this and we will stay in his bed for as long as humanly possible.” Jean winked with so much ‘subtlety’ that even Sam realised what he meant. This did nothing to help cease the excessive blood flow to Henry’s cheeks, ears and neck.

“Have fun,” Olivia wished the ‘couple’. Jean nodded enthusiastically, but Henry looked like he wanted to hide in the depths of the Earth and never resurface again. I could sympathise with him very well.

“Please don’t sleep very late, though. Tomorrow is still Tuesday and it is exam season,” Ms Watson noted, seemingly not fazed by the knowledge that her son was about to go through a sex marathon literally right above her head.

“And please use protection,” Mr Watson added. Henry’s face was so red and hot it would not be surprising if we managed to fry an egg on it. “Just because you don’t have to deal with pregnancies it doesn’t mean you won’t have to deal with STIs.” At this point in the conversation Sam began to snicker, prompting Henry to slump in his chair and almost disappear from the table. Jean and Olivia started to laugh, Sam soon joined in, and Ms Watson wondered what was so funny about the situation.

“Nothing. It’s just weird to hear grannies talking about sex,” Sam answered, not worried that his words could be perceived as offensive or impolite.

“Well, Sam, those grannies here wished the adults talked to us like that when we were your age,” Ms Watson told the boy, smiling the way only grandmas seem capable of. I even forgot she was Henry’s mother for a moment. Thankfully she did not seem to be taking offense at being called ‘old’. “You should be grateful your parents are so open, you know?” Ms Watson sighed, glancing meaningfully towards Olivia’s parents. “Ah, the youth of today; they’re so full of energy and determination! You have to enjoy that time while it lasts.”

“That’s exactly what I plan to do!” Jean exclaimed, nodding vigorously at Ms Watson’s words. His arms seemed to move in a similar rhythm under the table, but I had no intention of knowing what exactly they were doing, or if it was in any way connected to Henry’s pained expression.

“Great,” Ms Savage announced, standing up and smirking at her daughter. Olivia smirked too, and I suddenly feared what was about to happen. “If we are all done with our food, I would like to invite Stephen and Sybella to enjoy a special drink outside in this wonderful weather we are having. I would invite the rest of you too, but I have a feeling you have other plans.”

“So true!” Sam exclaimed, smiling innocently towards Jean and Henry. “I’m going to my room shoot people on my computer; I don’t want to see your sticky kisses and boring penis fun. Adios!” And he bolted out of the room, banging the door behind him.

“Your suggestion sounds lovely, Miranda.” Ms Watson nodded approvingly, also getting up. She helped her husband out of his chair and the four adults were soon out of our sight, though we could hear their animated chatting until they had left the flat for good.

“Yes, finally!” Jean cheered, nearly yanking Henry out of his chair. “I suggest we migrate to the couch to have some fun! I’ll keep all the guys entertained; Olivia can watch if she wants…”

My girlfriend’s eyebrows momentarily disappeared under her fringe as she digested Jean’s last comment. Her reaction was to almost yank me off my chair, mimicking what Jean had done to Henry. “I’m not going to just watch. This is my house; Oscar is mine here.” In a creepily synchronised motion, Jean and Olivia rested their hands just above their partners’ butts and led them towards the couch corner. Olivia and Jean stopped us in front of the two three-seated couches, facing each other like they were in some kind of bad Western movie set in a brothel rather than a saloon.

“What are you guys doing?” Henry asked, feeling the tension between our partners. It was hard to tell whether Olivia was angry, affronted, pissed, or just determined to prove something to Jean, but whatever the case, she was beginning to scare me with her iron grip on my trousers and her murderous look.

“I’m going to show this girl how a proper snogging is done. You won’t regret it.” As he spoke, Jean moved his hand from Henry’s ass to its frontal equivalent, making Henry yelp in surprise.

“You won’t treat me like a girl once I’m done with Oscar!” Olivia retorted, throwing me on the couch and climbing on top of me. “I can be just as good as you!”

“Can you swallow Oscar’s dick whole, then?” Jean asked, with an obvious air of superiority and pride. Olivia lowered her head, unwilling to admit Jean had a point, but the gesture was like conceding defeat. “Thought so. Can you take his dick in your ass? Or even in that extra hole of yours?” Once again Olivia did not answer. She did not lift her head, but her hands closed tightly around my shirt. “Thought so. Admit it, I can make Oscar much happier than you. I was made for this stuff; a beginner like you can’t dream of being this good. Also, you’re a girl.”

This last sentence finally provoked a reaction. “What I am has nothing to do with it!” Olivia suddenly shouted, gripping my shirt with such force I thought she wanted to tear it apart. “Stop calling me that, like it somehow defines who I am and what I can do!” Jean did not stop smiling, even as my girlfriend’s voice got louder. “Yes, I am a ‘beginner’, but I can do lots of things, and your ideas about what sex should be like won’t affect me!” Olivia’s lips suddenly crashed against mine, initiating a forceful kiss that ended when she accidentally bit my lip and I yelped in pain. Despite everything, Jean was not impressed.

“Ah, I can do much better than that. Just watch…” The blond leaned against Henry, gently guiding him to sit on the couch. The blond showed some unexpected gentleness while he tried to find a position that would be sexy and comfortable for Henry and his broken arms, but as soon as he found it they initiated a long sequence of passionate kisses punctuated by Jean’s strategic touching of certain body parts. Henry moaned and often tried to touch Jean as well, but the blond gently kept his partner’s hands away. Jean’s care with Henry’s injuries took me by surprise.

“Wow, that was…” Henry gasped as soon as Jean let go of him.

“A happy ending for your whole month without even minimal sexual stimulation? You know, I’m impressed that you managed to spend that long without touching yourself. I would’ve died in your place.” Jean whistled and patted Henry on the crotch. “Sure, you had me to take care of your dick since last week, but even that it will be nothing compared to what I have in mind for us today!” The patting soon became groping and their making-out escalated again.

“Someone should point out that most of the time Henry was too doped up on pain meds to feel like masturbating in the first place,” Olivia grumbled, rolling her eyes and doing her best to ignore the increasingly louder moans coming from the other couch. “I’m sorry about the last kiss. Jean’s pissing me off.”

“Why do you feel like you need to compete with him?” I asked, also working hard to pay attention only to the girl on top of me. It was harder than it should have been. “I never thought you were worse…”

“He’s basically saying that because I’ve got this kind of body I’m not good enough for you. Wouldn’t that piss you off too?” She retorted, gripping my shirt again.

“I guess?” She probably had a point, but my brain was not making the connections due to excessive sexual stimulation.

“Well, if you’re up to it I can show you what I mean in my bedroom,” Olivia smirked and leaned closer to my body, undoing the first button on my shirt. “I don’t think they’ll notice we’re gone.”

“If you are sure…” We glanced at the other ‘couple’: Henry was sitting on the couch with Jean riding on his lap, holding on by grabbing loose strands of his hair. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in the world beyond their couch. “I guess we can do that.”

Olivia’s room was right next to the living room, but thankfully we could not hear Jean and Henry through the wall. She guided me to her bed and finished unbuttoning my shirt. “I want you to fuck me with the real thing. We’ve had enough of toys,” she announced, going for my trousers. I grabbed her hands to make her stop.

“You remember what happened the last time you tried to force your body to have sex, right?” I asked, hoping she still remembered the disaster that was our first night of the camping trip. We had made such good progress since then it would be a shame to risk everything just because of Jean’s silly provocations.

“But back then I hadn’t had any practice. I’ve been playing around a lot recently; I think I’m ready for you now,” She insisted, sounding more like a spoiled child than a person who is secure about their sex skills.

“Do you want to do this just because Jean said you couldn’t? What are you going to do if we manage it? Call him over so he can see how wrong he was?” I asked her, determined to avoid another sexual fiasco with my girlfriend. “If that’s all there is to it, then I don’t think I want to go along.”

“It’s not, I swear! I really want to fuck you!” Olivia screamed, probably loud enough for everyone in the flat to hear. “I can’t wait to have your whole dick inside me and ride you until you come all over me and…”

“Please don’t say that. You’re making me embarrassed.” I had to look away and close my eyes, embarrassed not only because my girlfriend sounded like a trashy porn actress but because Jean, Henry, and Sam were probably hearing it too and laughing at her desperation.

“You never complain when Jean says those things,” Olivia retorted, freeing her hands from my grasp and making me lie on the bed with her on top of me. “He could be saying the most ridiculous things and you will still want to fuck him. Why can’t I be like that?”

“You want to be like Jean?” was the first thought that crossed my mind. Olivia shook her head vehemently when I voiced my question, allowing me to enjoy a couple of seconds of relief before she spoke again.

“It’s not that I want to be like him. I just hate that everything is so easy for him and for you guys; you don’t have to worry about undesirable parasites growing inside your body or monthly bloodshed in your internal organs, and you can even choose whether you want something inside you or not for sex to happen. It’s not fair that my body has to suck so much compared to yours, and it’s not fair that Jean gets to shove it in my face just because he can.” Olivia sighed. Her shoulders slumped and she tried to smile, but only managed to lift the corner of her lips for a second. “So, can we just fuck and pretend everything is perfect about my body so I don’t have to feel like I’m somehow inferior to the school’s whore because of something I can’t do anything about?”

“I’m not sure this is a good reason to have sex,” I tried to tell her, but Olivia was not really willing to listen. She lay on top of me, holding herself up so that our faces were less than an inch apart.

“Any reason to have sex is a good reason to have sex. If we fuck now, I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts and we will stop.” Olivia was very determined. Her pleading puppy eyes were kind of cute, and a good indicator of how desperate she was. I could not bring myself to say ‘no’ to her then; we were soon kissing and throwing our clothes in random directions. A king size condom and a bunch of lubricant sachets appeared by the bed at some point and Olivia jumped at them like a lioness catching her prey. She tried to put the condom on me by giving me a blowjob, but she only managed to get halfway through before she had to ‘cheat’ and use her hands.

“Are you sure you’re ready? Don’t you want me to…?” I tried to ask, but Olivia did not let me finish. I was once again lying with my back on her bed and she was preparing to ride me.

“Maybe you can use some fingers, but don’t take too long; I don’t know how much time we have before the adults come back.” She moved forward, stopping when she was sitting on my chest. After some awkward fumbling around we managed to find a way of doing what she wanted, until I could no longer delay her original plans.

“It’s now or never!” Olivia beamed, ready to sink on my penis. Right on cue, however, we heard the front door opening and some mad running around in the living room. Just when I thought she was going to give up and get dressed, she finalised her grand plan in one sudden motion that made me scream in surprise. She did not seem very comfortable, but she had indeed managed to get as far as she could. “Cool, I can do it too!” She moved around slightly, trying to get more comfortable. From the corridor came a chorus of laughter; any moment now the adults would want to know about us.

“I think we should stop now…”

“Just a little bit more!” Olivia insisted, moving more vigorously. It was hard to tell whether she was really enjoying it.

“Your parents will be here soon.”

“They know better than to try knocking right now.” She let out a muffled cry that could be either from pleasure or pain. “Let me finish this.” She moved her hips up and down, getting faster with each thrust. Under different circumstances I would have found the whole thing immensely pleasurable, but I was so worried about the adults overhearing us that I could not really enjoy the moment. Olivia carried on for a few minutes, biting her lip so she would not scream too loudly. I tried to listen to what was going on in the living room, but other than random bursts of laughter I could not hear anything. Finally, she got tired of moving her hips and started to touch herself. She came soon afterwards, and the clenching of her vaginal muscles during her climax ensured I was at least looking at her while it happened, even if my ears were still concentrating on something completely different.

Five minutes later we were fully clothed and chatting in the living room with Olivia’s and Henry’s parents, a flustered Henry and a smirking Jean as if our sex escapade had either not happened at all or was nothing out of the ordinary. It was far too weird a feeling for me to process at that point, but over the next week and a half I would have plenty of opportunities to do so.

By the time the Watsons and Jean left, the sky was already dark. Sam had used the presence of guests to stay up until way past his bedtime, and Olivia acted like she could not wait to return to her bed and drag me along for a follow-up session of our post-dinner adventure.

She did exactly that.