Bullied and the Bitch

Chapter 15: Making Soup

"We can't tell my parents about us. Absolutely not," she says.

I stare at her. "Why not?"

"Because you know how they are! They'll demand we break up. Immediately. And then kick you out of the house. And me too."

"We can just tell them we're going out. Not that we're sleeping together."

She looks at me funny. "Yeah. That's what I was talking about. If we told them about us sleeping together, they'd chop us up into little pieces and make soup with us."

"Isn't murdering people bad in the eyes of God or something?"

"Yeah. So is losing your virginity before marriage." I shut up as we continue our walk home after getting groceries. So no telling parents about our relationship. Great.

"Is something wrong with me today, son?" James asks me when I go to work at the construction site, giving me a what-is-with-you look. "You keep staring at me."

"No. Nothing. Nothing's wrong," I answer. Too quickly, maybe.

"Alright..."

I can't tell him that I was imagining him chopping me up and stirring me in a pot with bits of my own girlfriend.

That night I open my door when the whole house is dark and silent. It creaks a little, which unnerves me. I tiptoe to El's room, avoiding the creaky floorboards. I feel more nervous than I do when I sneak away from Trent to go to Rob. Wait, was that why the sex between El and I was so good? Because of the risk involved? God, I hoped not. I liked El. A lot. More than I've liked any of my previous boyfriends, maybe.

I get to El's room and open the door. It doesn't creak at all, a relief. I shut the door behind me and slip into bed with her.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" she asks. I had just been in this room an hour ago. I hadn't told her I was coming back.

"What else?" I ask, cuddling close to her, kissing her neck and getting a whiff of her hair as I do.

"I said no sex until you get condoms, remember?"

I brandish a whole row of them. The packets are clearly identifiable with the streetlamp light from outside El's window. I brought four. Who knew how many rounds we could go?

"When did you-"

"They're Trent's. I used to make him wear them, because I didn't like him cumming in me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I didn't like Trent."

"And yet you went out with him," I shrug. I can't make any excuses for myself. "Do you always go out with people you don't like?"

"Well, I'm going out with you, so no. I guess I don't always go out with people I don't like."

"Aww," she says, laughing softly, inching closer to me. She kisses my collarbone then trails light kisses all the way up my jaw until she reaches my lips. She kisses and nibbles it. I stroke her cheek and kiss her back for real. Her hand sneaks down to my half-erect cock, and palms it.

"What are you doing?" I ask her.

"I have no idea," she says. "But I've never really gotten a good look at it... I'm curious."

"You're still not getting a good look at it. It's too dark," I remind her. As if she needs reminding. She moves down on me and pulls off my pants. She pushes the garment off the bed. Under her scrutiny my penis grows... and grows.