Super Not Into You Read online

  “He sounds like a good man,” Ryan says wistfully. “I’d love to have had someone like that in my life when I was a kid.”

  “You still can,” I tell him.

  “You want me to call Mr. Forrest?”

  “No,” I scold him. “Me. I’d be happy to teach you. I did learn from the best after all and since then I’ve been trained in Dyslexia guidance.”

  He’s hesitant on accepting my help and I can’t tell if it’s just his machismo or if he’s just really insecure about not being able to read quickly or well.

  “You don’t have to be scared, Bryan.”

  Still, he’s unreceptive.

  “You don’t have to give me an answer right now either.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ignore you, it’s just a lot to think about. I mean, I’m not a child anymore. Look at me, Scout, I’m a full-grown man. Won’t you feel just a bit condescending teaching a full-grown man how to read. Try as I might, I really don’t know if I’ll feel all that comfortable reading ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ cover to cover for the first time.”

  “You’re wrong. But again, you don’t have to answer right now.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because all I got from that is that you’re a full-grown man.”

  My hand moves down from the top of his on the arm of the couch down to his thigh and up to his groin. Seems like Bryan has had just about enough of this subject and could use a proper distraction. There’s a bittersweet feeling emanating from this situation but I’m still not completely sober and after this night, I think we could both use a good fuck.

  One crotch grab is enough to get Bryan all fired up. He moves my hand off of him and uses both of his, along with his brute strength to manhandle me up off the couch and onto his lap.

  Feeling the growing bulge in Bryan’s pants is enough to get a fire going in me. I play with my tits and raise my dress higher up so Bryan can see a little bit more than he could before. To tease him even more, I slide the straps off my dress and show him my tits. The look on his face, he wants me. He is craving me.

  He shoves his hand inside my underwear. He slides one finger inside of me, feels how wet I am for him and kisses me. His lips are hard and insistent. His finger pumps in and out of me; it spreads my wetness and gets my pussy aching for his cock.

  “Let’s go to the bedroom,” I tell him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Scout

  Bryan picks me up off the couch, still half undressed. I grab his neck as he carries me up the stairs and over the threshold of his bedroom door as if we were just married and continues all the way to the bed.

  He whispers into my ear, “You’re so sexy,” as he carefully drops me down on the bed.

  I quickly slip out of my dress and panties and lay back on the bed. Bryan looks me up and down with a rock-hard dick aimed right at me. He wastes no time and wraps himself up with a condom, then he sits on the edge of the bed.

  “Come take a seat,” he tells me, patting his thigh.

  That’s all the coaxing I need.

  I giddily move over to him and jump on top. I slowly guide his cock into me and feel the pleasure again. The phenomenal, excruciating, pleasure of the head of his cock stretching me out, making me feel like I’ll be split in half, and yet, it’s what my body needs and wants.

  The feeling I get when his cock fills me up is something I wish I could more succinctly put into words. It’s like a fire that warms but doesn’t burn. A fluctuation of emotions that results in an explosive crescendo of everything that could ever be thought of as human. It’s comparable to The Big Bang. With every pump into me, a new universe is created.

  I may be over exaggerating, but metaphors aside this really is the best sex I’ve ever had with anybody. And all I’ve done is ride his dick for a few minutes.

  It can’t just be good sex, though, that’s making me go through all of these intense emotions. I’ve had dick before, and it wasn’t anything like this at all.

  I remember words that have been spoken by other people in my life, unimportant people. Classmates in high school, people on daytime television, blurbs on Buzzfeed articles.

  I’m falling for him. That’s the only thing it could possibly be. When you’re in love with someone, sex with them is the most powerful thing your body experiences.

  There are so many times in life that I have heard that but only now does the notion ring true. The only damper in this life changing sex is my own confusion. I’m trying to enjoy this sex but all I can think about is how I could be falling in love with Bryan. It’s not that it’s an impossibility. It’s that I don’t know how much I can trust him.

  He may not be a cheater or even a blatant liar, but he has shown himself to be the kind of person that hides the truth. Not only that but I can’t get an honest answer out of him about why he wouldn’t want to be taught how to work with with his dyslexia even though he’s an adult. I understand it can be embarrassing but it’s something he should want to do.

  Add that to him being my fake fiancé and that really starts to harsh this sex buzz. I’m surprised at my ability to compartmentalize my thoughts in such an effective manner, but I fear that if I keep thinking about this so objectively that I'll end up psyching myself out of this session of passion, if you could call it that. If it were passion, I wouldn't be so caught up on my feelings toward Bryan, I'd just be enjoying bouncing on his huge cock.

  I have two wolves in me fighting for me to make a single decision, to stop this and talk to Bryan or just stay in my head until we both climax.

  I'm enjoying this. Not just the sex, but this. This relationship.

  If I was going to be honest about my life and relationships in my life, the one word I would use to describe it is “fearful”. My work has allowed me to be to be fearless in the face of hardships, working with kids who don’t have all their parents wish they could give them, and I’m very grateful to be able to be seen as a brave person in that part of my life.

  But when it comes to relationships, I’m a coward. I’m not afraid of commitment, I’m afraid of other people being in my life and then leaving. I think of myself as a lone wolf only because that’s the only way one can live their life without being abandoned constantly.

  A friend of mine once had a decade long relationship that ended with her finding out about her man cheating on her. A decade long relationship down the drain. They lived together for the better part of that decade, so once their argument boiled and exploded into a break up, they had to split their home in half. Their belongings were split, their memories tainted. She told me that after that, there are some songs she can’t listen to, there are some shows she can’t watch anymore. All because she chose to share parts of her life with someone.

  I don’t understand how the majority of the world can live without having a crippling fear of their lives being ruined like that. Most people are more than willing to get into a relationship. Do they not think of the possibility that their time can be wasted, or are they just naive and think that it doesn’t matter. “Life goes on,” right?

  Sure. But you don’t get lost time back.

  I don’t want to waste my time with Bryan. We’re trying to pull off a fake relationship and my heart already feels like it’s breaking at the thought of going our separate ways after he gets his public image fixed.

  It’s too soon for this to come to an end.

  “Oh, fuck, you feel amazing,” Bryan moans loudly.

  His words bring me back to Earth where I should be enjoying the explosive experience we’re building up to. I take a deep breath and try to expel all thoughts from my body. I try to focus only on what my body is feeling. And it’s back to feeling incredible. The throbbing, the pulsing, his ultimate eruption, and the priceless facial expression, showing that I’ve done a good job without even being mentally present for most of the session.

  Bryan sets me over onto the bed and carefully slides out of me.

  “I didn’t feel you finish,” h
e says worriedly.

  “I didn’t,” I tell him.

  It’s the truth. I was too inside my own head to allow my body to enjoy any of the pleasure it was meant to receive while being passionately pounded.

  “Was it my fault?”

  “No,” I assure him, “It was mine. I just… I’ve got a lot on my mind right now and maybe I’m not as sober as I thought I was.”

  A peculiar smile appears on his face as he pushes me farther into the bed and raises my knees up so they’re resting on his shoulders. Without even asking me if this is okay, Bryan goes ahead and starts performing oral sex on me. No complaints from me, though. He’s a man who knows his way around a pussy. Giving me head is the only way to get me out of my head.

  Nobody in the world is perfect. No relationship is perfect. It can’t even be said that any friendship is perfect. So why try to be perfect?

  Bryan is great at sex, he’s great to be around, he cares about the children, and even if our relationship isn’t real, our friendship is. We may be fake fiancés, but our friendship could build to something more in the future.

  I’m just thinking too much about this. I’m going to go with the flow. I mean it this time. I’m done thinking so heavily about how my life could make a sharp turn toward disaster if this one little thing goes wrong. The reputation of my charity was ruined and I’m still going strong, no matter how much shit gets thrown at me or the organization I’ve built from the ground up.

  From now on, I’m just going to close my eyes and enjoy life. Especially this fantastic head Bryan is performing. He can flatten his tongue to be so thick and cover so much of the space between my thighs. It’s magic. He catches every drip that flows out of me with his tongue and he uses it to further lubricate my lower lips and clit.

  “Don’t stop,” I beg him, “I’m so close.”

  My legs start to tremble. My pussy aches under his tongue. Stomach muscles contracting, my orgasm causes me to scream his name. Tingles run up and down my body, leaving me light headed and sleepy.

  Bryan smiles at my pleasure. He pulls his body up next to mine and holds me as I fall asleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bryan

  Please, stop. Stop ringing. Please stop ringing.

  I’ve been awake for three minutes just staring at my phone vibrating on my bedside table, waiting for it to stop moving. No luck, though. I watch as its vibrations cause it to traverse the entire top of my nightstand before falling onto the floor, where it continues to be loud and annoying. It has been a pain in my ass literally and figuratively for the past twelve hours. From being nearly up my ass back in the car, to right now. Buzzing away. I can’t escape from the world even for one morning.

  Turning it off is the simple solution, the obvious one, but it’s hard to do that with the entire weight of another person on my left arm. Especially when that person is someone I want to get some nice rest. She, of all people, deserves some rest. After a night of wine binging and some tiring sex, Scout can use as much rest as she can get.

  I methodically slide my arm from underneath the heavy sleeping Scout and reach over to the phone on the floor. Missed calls and walls of voicemail notifications appear on the screen. Too much for me right now. I may not have had a drink last night, but my head is still buzzing.

  My life is too busy right now. Every part of it. My work at Scout’s charity is under a very public microscope, I was photographed leaving my angry parents at a restaurant and escorting my drunk, fake fiancée into my car. A fiancée who also happens to be my supervisor when I do charity work. Even Scout is bringing me some stress now by strongly suggesting I learn how to read properly as if it’s really necessary in our technologically advanced world. I don’t need to know why my phone is being blown up with notifications this morning.

  This morning is a bubble. A bubble of peace in which nothing from the outside world can be brought up lest it burst this metaphorical bubble.

  I’m going to start my morning by waking Scout with a lovingly made breakfast, served in bed. An omelet with chives, some bacon on the side, and buttered toast with two flavored options of jelly for spreading.

  All that and a tall glass of pineapple juice. A super easy recipe I learned from an Ecuadorian recipe. Five cups of water, the juice from an entire pineapple, and one squeezed lime. All of this makes one very sweet juice that really puts the kick in your step in the morning. And as is widely known, pineapple helps you taste better, so I make sure to drink at least two cups before seeing Scout.

  When I walk back into my room, Scout is in the exact same position I left her. She must be in a deep sleep to not have been woken up by the alluring smell of bacon being cooked. I lay down a tray on top of her and lightly brush my fingers against her arm to wake her.

  Scout opens her eyes slowly and smiles when she sees my face.

  “Aren’t you a sight for severely hungover eyes?” she says with a husky morning voice.

  I hand her the cup of pineapple juice to wake her up and cleanse her palette. Like anyone else who would drink this nectar, she is very pleased with the taste of this deliciously simple blended juice.

  As she enjoys her breakfast, I do my morning workout in the nude. We talked about nonsense: movies, TV shows, music. A nice moment in our peaceful bubble.

  I realize, it is the first time we have talked about something unimportant. It isn’t about the children we work with, or my career, or my learning disability which was such a hot topic last night. We just speak about easy topics. And I love it.

  Palir hardly humors me with conversations like this. Everything’s always business with him. He’s a friend but we don’t act like regular friends do. Though that might be because I pay him not to be.

  After her breakfast which I stole bits from, Scout asks me what I plan to do today.

  “Take care of you, of course.”

  “I don’t have any plans today,” she brags, “so how about you take care of me right now?”

  She moves the tray off the bed and spreads her legs wide open as I finish doing some pushups. Scout starts playing with herself and blows kisses at me every time I get a glance of her as I continue doing my workouts. I have to stop my body routine once I can’t finish a single pushup due to my hard dick poking the floor and ruining my form.

  “How long do you think you can keep yourself off of me?” she asks seductively.

  “Not very long,” I answer, getting up off the floor and revealing my ready to go cock.

  I jump on the bed and am welcomed by Scout’s warm arms and her heart melting giggling. Before sliding inside of her, she holds me back and tells me that she’s going to return the favor from last night.

  With her full force, she pushes me on my back and attacks my cock with feral craving. Scout runs her tongue up the length of my shaft. It’s a good technique to start off with, but what she does next, nearly blows my eyes out of my head.

  Scout licks her lips before wrapping them around the crown of my cock and starts sucking just the tip while she constricts my cock with both hands and using the wetness from her lips to jack me off into her mouth.

  It’s a masterful technique that has me turning into pudding in her beautifully petite hands. She only has to keep at it with this technique for three or so minutes before I shoot a hot load forcefully down her throat. I have to shove her head down as I near the orgasm, and she is miraculously able to deepthroat my entire cock.

  Her lips end up at the base of my cock and she drinks my load down. When she slides my cock out of her mouth, she brags about how well she was able to handle a cock of my size inside her mouth without much experience.

  “It’s like we’re meant for each other, don’t ya think?”

  Hard to say, but I do tell her that she might be onto something. I didn’t want to get out another condom, but I do want to finish off inside of her again. I give into my craving and reach into my nightstand for another condom.

  “You really think you can fuck me after a load that
huge?” she chides.

  “Watch me,” I play along, “I’m going to fuck you harder than I have yet.”

  She bites her lip at my loving threat and readies herself by opening herself up with two fingers for me — like curtains retracting at the beginning of a stage program. Showtime.

  Being in this bubble allows me to not have a single worry from the outside world hold me back from performing as wildly as I’d like. I smoothly enter Scout and fell her clench like a vice around my bursting cock. She digs her nails into my back and wraps her legs around my waist, whispering backhanded encouragements at me.

  “Fuck me, you fucker. Fuck me until we die. Fuck me like a man.”

  At first, I think she is trying to be kinky, again, parroting things she has probably seen or heard from porn. But the look in her eyes, it’s blatantly clear that she’s terribly serious. She wants me to fuck her like a man. Not a celebrity who is rumored to have sex all the time, not like a boy who is in love and losing his virginity. She wants me to fuck her like a stereotypical macho man who fucks. She doesn’t want me to worry about her pleasure, she just wants me to plow into her as hard and fast as possible, to use her as a fuck toy, a receptacle for nothing but my cum.

  It takes me back to my first days on a signed NFL team. Our coach was not in charge of our workouts. We had a glorified drill sergeant training us until we dropped and that is not an exaggeration. I had that man screaming into my ear whenever I slowed my movements down to get a quick break from pumping or running. Any breaks would result in punishment. That punishment being more working out.

  This is what all of that screaming has led up to.

  Now, I can fuck a woman, push past the point of wanting to take a break, push past the tensing muscles, everything. No matter how tired I get, I have to push through. That’s how I’m able to fulfill Scout’s wish.