I Gave Him a Shot from the book "Room 222"

I Gave Him a Shot from the book "Room 222"

Status: Finished

Genre: Humor

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Humor

Summary

This short story is from "Room 222", a collection of short, erotic stories about eclectic characters and sexual situations, all taking place in the same room of a run down motel. Available soon on Amazon/Kindle. I Gave Him A Shot – Johnnie was pudgy, awkward, and insecure. Definitely nobody Karen would ever want to be seen with in public. But he was also funny and loyal when no one was looking. What would it really cost her to throw him a mercy fuck? visit www.lusciouslee.com for more from this author

Summary

This short story is from "Room 222", a collection of short, erotic stories about eclectic characters and sexual situations, all taking place in the same room of a run down motel. Available soon on Amazon/Kindle.

I Gave Him A Shot – Johnnie was pudgy, awkward, and insecure. Definitely nobody Karen would ever want to be seen with in public. But he was also funny and loyal when no one was looking. What would it really cost her to throw him a mercy fuck?

visit www.lusciouslee.com for more from this author

Content

Submitted: March 20, 2017

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Content

Submitted: March 20, 2017

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Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Johnnie scoping me from the corner of his. [TJ1] He couldn’t believe I was here. Neither could I.

I wasn’t sure I was going to go through with it either, even as I let him check us in. I mean, this was Johnnie—how was I going to let him touch me, see me naked, and worse, have to see him naked without laughing in his face?

The sad thing was, Johnnie is not that bad looking. He has pretty, light brown eyes[TJ2] , a smooth, damn near flawless complexion[TJ3] , and full, kissable lips. Yes, he is a little heavy, but not sloppy fat or obese. I’m talking a slightly out-of-shape football player type of body, not Rick Ross.

But a lifetime of being the lame little fat boy had taken its toll on Johnnie’s psyche. After being teased for his whole childhood and being called names like Hungry John and Johnnie Cow instead of his real last name, Clow, he’d internalized the idea that he was fat and lame and no girl would ever want him.

So he carried himself that way. Johnnie had the opposite of swagger. His walk was more like a mentally challenged shuffle, and he always did too much. He laughed too loud and long at shit that wasn’t funny, he talked too much about things no one else ever cared about, and his feelings were always getting hurt in a way that just made you pity him if you were a nice person or laugh at him if you were kind of bitchy. Like me.

That was part of Johnnie’s problem too. He needed a nice girl, someone awkward like he was who would appreciate him for what he did have to offer. But he wanted a fast girl, a bad girl, a girl like the ones who strutted around half naked and fucked the popular guys on the back of the team bus after games.

But girls like that had no use for Johnnie. It would mess up their reputation to be seen with him, to have anybody think they were feeling him. I had certainly never told anybody that I talked to Johnnie on the phone, and I had no intention of being seen out in public with him, which is why we were there at the motel trying to get a room.

When I had finally gotten tired of him begging, bragging, and pleading, I asked him why he always tried so hard to get the pussy.

“Desperation is really not all that attractive,” I’d told him that night over the phone. “Begging somebody does not make them want to fuck you. It just makes them feel sorry for you.”

Instead of getting defensive like I’d expected, Johnnie just got quiet. After I asked him repeatedly to talk to me, tell me what was wrong—I even apologized to him if I’d hurt his feelings—he finally confessed that he knew he was a fat joke. People had been laughing at him all his life, both boys and girls. He was tired of being taken for a joke, and he didn’t know how to change the way other people saw him.

“I don’t know if it’s even worth it, Karen,” he’d confided to me.  “I’m just over it…  Maybe I should just kill myself,” he’d finished all at once after a long pause. And he sounded serious.

That scared me. Yes, I made fun of Johnnie like everyone else, but somehow over the past few months, I’d begun talking to him over the phone. When we were away from everyone else, I found out I really did like him as a person. Especially when we talked on the phone and I didn’t have to look at him.

Johnnie actually has a nice, strong voice. Very deep and masculine, and when we talked about things he was interested in, he didn't sound awkward at all. It was only when he tried to sound cool, or when he was concerned about what the others were thinking about him, that he stuttered over his words or said something stupid. Loudly.

I’d immediately tried to talk him out of hurting himself. “Don’t say that,” I said to him. “It’s not that bad.”

“Why not?” Johnnie shot back. “The only one who even tolerates me is you, and you don’t even want to speak to me when your friends are around.”[TJ4] 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” I lied to him. “I don’t have a problem with you when my friends are around. It’s just that I know how they are. I don’t want them clowning you, or hurting your feelings.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Okay, Karen, maybe you’d talk to me, but you would never give me none. Why can’t we have sex? How do you know for sure you wouldn’t like it?”

I was prepared to talk to Johnnie, but fucking him was a bit much, even to keep him from hurting himself. But after that conversation, he kept bringing it up every time we were alone. And he looked[TJ5]  so hurt each time I said no or tried to change the subject that he got into my head. What if Johnnie really did do something to himself just because I wouldn’t give him a chance? He wasn’t asking me to be his girlfriend, just let him play with my pussy a little bit. I’d done more for less of a reason. If I was really his friend, why couldn’t I give him that?

Eventually, after weeks of Johnnie not letting it go and me making him promise he wouldn’t go telling everyone else—anyone else—I agreed to let him take me to the motel.

I still had doubts, all the way up to the moment Johnnie turned around from the front desk, key card to the room in hand. But he looked so delighted at the idea that he got to touch me, it softened my heart. He wanted me so badly, and that made me feel good. Not that I wanted him, but who doesn't want to be adored like that?

Things got strained again once we got to the room. I was standing in the middle of the space, which wasn't very big. It also wasn't much to speak of, just a basic bed with an ugly, well-worn spread on it. A clothes rack and sink were visible at the back of the room, along with a door that I figured led to the tub and toilet.[TJ6] 

I finished my inspection and turned to see what Johnnie was doing. Nothing, basically. He’d just stopped by the door and was looking at me again, still not quite able to believe this was really going to happen.

It wasn’t going to happen if he couldn’t snap out of it. I tried to think of what to do. Usually, the boys made the first move in situations like this, and all I had to do was decide when and how to give in. But Johnnie didn’t even make a move toward me.

I like to kiss, and that usually got things started. But I didn’t really want to kiss Johnnie. Neither did I have the desire to see his pudgy body beneath the plaid shirt he was wearing. I wanted to give this a chance, but I had a big thing against pressing up against a man’s body and feeling it lay against me all soft. Especially men who have breasts instead of pecs, like I was relatively sure Johnnie did.  I just knew hugging him was going to feel like hugging a woman. Not that there’s anything wrong with that for those who swing that way; it’s just not for me. I mean, I don’t have very hard standards, but everybody has to draw the line somewhere. For me, I’m strictly dickly[TJ7] .

As Johnnie stood there, mouth slightly open, I began to get irritated. He was the one talking all that shit on the phone about how this was going to be, how he would surprise me and asking me to promise him that I’d try not to fall in love with him. Yet here we were, and the slow motherfucker wasn’t even going to make a move away from the door.

Shit, I could have gone out with my friends, or watched TV, or done my nails. Anything was more interesting than this shit.

Johnnie finally came out of the trance, but only to ask me what I thought we should do. For real, now I had to be a damn teacher? He didn’t even know how to get the pussy when it was being freely offered to him?

I told him whatever he wanted to do and sat down on the bed. “What do you usually do?” I asked.

He didn’t answer me, but he did move away from the door and sat next to me on the bed. But that was it—he just sat there.

I sighed, loudly. I didn’t care if Johnnie knew I was irritated because his ass was so irritating. But I’d gone this far and I was determined not to give him a reason to whine about this later. He wasn’t going to be able to say that he’d been ready but that I’d backed out after we got to the room.

Still not necessarily wanting to kiss him, I did take off my shirt and put Johnnie’s hand on my boob. He jumped, startled, but relaxed when he felt the softness beneath his palm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He reached over and hovered over the other breast. I gave him a nod, and he reached out and squeezed that one too, a bit more firmly this time. I leaned back, and Johnnie followed the movement until he was almost on top of me. Then he decided to kiss me, sloppily putting his mouth on mine and licking my closed lips until I just gave up and parted them a little.

Then his fat, juicy tongue was in my mouth, as I tried to keep my own tongue as far down toward the bottom of my mouth as I could. I didn’t want to come into contact with his invasion any more than I had to.

With an admittedly ugly little sound, I moved my head away. Johnnie got the message and did not try to keep kissing my mouth, and instead went on to suck on my neck. He put his tongue in my ear, which can be sexy, but not when a guy puts his whole tongue in there. Flat, not pointed. Then it just feels like being licked by a dumb slobbery dog.

As Johnnie seduced[TJ8]  me up top, he worked his way down my body. I was tempted to put his hand back on my breasts because he actually felt pretty pleasant as he squeezed them and rolled the nipples between his fingers. I wondered if someone had told him to do that, because it felt kind of rehearsed. Like, he did it the same way every time. First the left one, then the right—never both at once. But it did feel good, so I told myself to stop being such a bitch and just get into the moment.

I moved Johnnie’s hand back up once, and he did resume touching my breasts like I wanted him to. But when his hand began to drift lower again, it just seemed rude to stop him. Plus, I wanted him to stop dripping his spit all over me, so why prolong this?

Johnnie took his sweet old time getting down my body, then couldn’t quite get the waistband unbuttoned. I didn’t point out to him that I was wearing a skirt; I just pulled it up myself and took his hand. I gently put it on the mound between my legs, over my panties. Let him do some of the work, shit.

Johnnie rubbed me through the panties and I was beginning to think I was, indeed, going to have to make love to myself. Just when I was about to remove the underwear for him, he slipped a finger down further, right between my legs. The sensation took me by surprise, in a good way. He was still outside my panties, but he felt around with enough force and had hit the clit just right. I found myself actually getting wet for him. He felt it too. I could tell because he was smiling against my neck.

It was so sweet, how proud of himself Johnnie got. I wondered if I was the first female he’d ever successfully gotten moist, and I wanted to encourage his efforts. So I wriggled and moaned for him, not entirely faking it, just exaggerating a little bit for his ego. And it worked—he increased the pressure in his fingers until only the fact that he was still outside my panties kept him from penetrating me.

Realizing this, Johnnie still didn’t take them off, but he did put his hand inside them. Finding the right spot again, he gave me a gentle squeeze that sent a new shiver through me. Feeling me convulse for him, he quickly moved his finger down and stuck it in me. Finally!

I needed more than one finger though, and again thought I was going to have to direct him as he began to push it in and out of me. It almost felt good, but I knew it would be better if he gave me a little bit more.

When I stopped moving or making any noises, he figured that out for himself, and gave me two more fingers. Better. I felt myself get even wetter and sincerely moaned as he really put his arm into it, finger fucking me like a champ.

Unlike most dudes, Johnnie didn’t seem to see this as just foreplay. He didn’t do it for, like, a second, then pull his dick out and stick me with that. No, Johnnie was delighted just to touch my pussy, and he gave me as much attention with his fingers as he could. Even with the fingers of one hand buried inside me, he used his thumb to stimulate my clit.

It felt so good, and I came for Johnnie after a few minutes of being touched like that. In the middle of the orgasm, I opened my eyes and gave a laugh at the amazed look on his face. I knew without a doubt that I was the first girl he’d brought to orgasm.

There is no way this isn’t going to get out tomorrow, I thought to myself. Shit, tomorrow was ambitious. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Johnnie was already composing the text he was going to send out even as I pulsed around his fingers.

Telling myself that I could give him that much after what he'd given me, I realized I didn’t care if he did tell people. Who were they to judge me? True, I liked the way I felt when they were impressed that I went out with Bruce, who was popular mainly because he was a good athlete. It certainly wasn’t because he was a good person.  In fact, Bruce is an asshole, full stop.  But with him by my side, I was guaranteed to be invited to all the parties and get-togethers the fun people were at.

But Bruce never took the time to play with my pussy like Johnnie did, and I never came when he fucked me. Only sometimes, when he ate me out, but that wasn’t anywhere near as often as he wanted me to suck his dick. In fact, whenever Bruce did go down on me, it was almost impossible to enjoy it because I knew he was only putting his mouth on me so he could stuff his big dick in my mouth next. I like to receive oral okay, but will never really be a big fan of sucking dicks.

My wandering mind refocused on Johnnie when I felt him pull his fingers out of me. He sat up and began to remove his clothes, starting with the plaid shirt. My orgasm over, I had even less desire to see him with his shirt off. So I got to my knees behind him and leaned over his neck. His hair was soft, another one of his best features. He wore it kind of long so I had to brush it back to whisper my thanks into his ear.

He jumped, and lazily told me that was all right. He should have just left it there, as if he did that to girls all the time and knew he could make me cum if I just gave him the chance.

But being Johnnie, he just couldn’t help saying something stupid. “So you really did have an orgasm, didn’t you? You weren’t faking it just to make me feel better? Your pussy got so juicy, I was almost scared you were peeing on me.”

Well, that was lovely. I almost put my clothes back on and left. After all, I’d let him see me naked, put his fingers in me, and make me cum. I’d gotten mine, and I was done with it. It wasn’t my fault if he hadn’t gotten his.

Maybe he sensed a change in my body language, because Johnnie stopped worrying about taking off his shirt. Instead, he turned to me and put his face between my breasts, which were level with his head because I was still kneeling behind him. Making noises like he was eating them, he put first one tit in his mouth and then the other, leaving a ring of saliva on each.

That disgusted me, seeing his spit glistening on my tit like that. So much so that even when he reached up and began to play with my pussy again, I couldn’t get back into it.

I just wanted it to be over. Yes, I’d had more fun than I thought I would, but the truth was I was never going to desire Johnnie physically. He just didn’t do it for me.

But he was my friend, and I didn’t want to leave him hanging. He deserved a chance to bust a nut just like he’d helped me do.

So I moved his hand from between my legs, and lay back so his mouth lost contact with my nipple. I lay on my back, then changed my mind and flipped over to my stomach, legs slightly spread.

Johnnie took the hint and took off his pants, but not his underwear. I could feel the soft cotton rubbing up against my pussy as he laid his big body across my big ass. He began to dry hump me, which rubbed his cotton underwear against me over and over again. It was not unpleasant, and I began to feel aroused again. So my moans were genuine, and I was really feeling him when I called out his name. Then I moaned, “Oh, Johnnie,” and even I could hear the passion in my voice.

It was a little too much for him, and unfortunately he still had on his drawers. Before he could take care of that and stick his dick in me, he blew. All in his Jockeys.

That was it. I finally let myself go. I laughed, long and loud. Not at Johnnie, not with him, just at the whole situation. At the fact that I came to the motel in the first place with Johnnie, that I let him see me naked and touch me on the inside. At how he did make me cum and then he turned me on again. And at how, out of all that, he still didn’t get a chance to actually get the pussy. Who but Johnnie would let himself get in that situation?

Of course, Johnnie was hurt that I’d laughed. Any other dude would have gone off, pointed out that he’d made me moan his name on more than one occasion. But Johnnie just got hurt, which made it funnier for me. I can’t help it—I really am just a bitch like that. And he’d known that going in.

We were silent as we got our clothes back on. I reminded Johnnie that he’d promised not to talk, that I would never do this again if he started some shit with my name in it. He told me he wasn’t stupid, and he knew I wasn’t going to do it again no matter what he did. He sounded so sad, I lied and said that I would do it as long as he cooperated.

As we walked out of Room 222, I was thinking it was too bad that throwing a nerd a mercy fuck to keep him from thinking about committing suicide wasn’t something I could list as a community service on my college applications.

 


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