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Randy and Cheryl (LAST FINAL)>/strong>
I didn’t have time for this mushy stuff. Me and Cheryl had a three-hour drive ahead of us, and fuck, we should’ve been on the road an hour ago.
But instead of driving, I was standing in the living room next to the sofa, looking at my mother and my sister hanging on each other, crying and wailing. The scene was reflected in the blank screen of the television set, which let me see my own impatience in a kind of funhouse-mirror way.
I shook my head. Shit, Cheryl’s 18 now, and only going to college, not to the Moon.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving, Cheryl. I just can’t believe it,” Mom said. I wasn’t surprised Mom was crying, but I didn’t expect it from Cheryl.
“I know, Mom,” Cheryl said with a sob. “Me neither.”
I shifted my weight and sighed. Mom glared at me, and for a sec I thought she was going to yell. I knew this was going to be hard for her, but not this bad. She’d always been protective of Cheryl, I guess because my younger sister was born seven weeks early.
Finally, Mom pulled away and turned toward the front door. But no sooner had she done that when she turned back and they hugged some more. Cheryl wiped tears from her own cheek. She was upset, but not just sad. She looked angry.
I rolled my eyes at Dad. He smirked, but I was too pissed to smile. Enough’s enough. Well, if we weren’t going to leave anytime soon, I might as well take in the view. It felt weird, but God damn, Mom and Cheryl were hot.
Mom had on an orange halter top that strained to hold her B-cup titties. Her blue denim shorts showed off her nice, round ass that was a little bigger than Cheryl’s. Mom earned her ass and her beautiful thighs from dancing. She almost went pro, but torn tendons in her left ankle took care of that. She’d kept fit, though, and her luscious body drove my friends crazy. Me, too.
Cheryl had a thin pale-blue t-shirt on that hugged her nice B-cups, and a pair of little yellow athletic shorts that snuggled her tight round ass and showed off her long tan legs.
Sure enough, Dad was eyeing them up, too. He was staring at my sister’s feet, and I couldn’t blame him. Mom and Cheryl were both wearing flip-flops, giving us a good look at their perfect feet and toes. The only way this would’ve been hotter was if they were naked and French-kissing.
The clock above the 52″ TV set read quarter past one o’clock. That meant that even if we left at that second, we wouldn’t get to campus until after four o’clock, and that was assuming no traffic. Mom looked at the clock a couple times, but then she’d just squeeze her eyelids shut and kiss Cheryl. She knew Atlantic Coast University wasn’t just down the block, it was three hours away. Shit, at this rate, we’d still be here two hours from now.
Mom brushed a stray hair out of Cheryl’s face, then cupped Cheryl’s cheeks and looked at her hard. “Remember now, you’ll have to buckle down on your own and study. You won’t have me or your father to get on you about it.”
Cheryl clicked her tongue. “I know, Mom, I know.”
Mom glanced in my direction. “And you can’t depend on Randy staying on top of you. He has his own studies to worry about.”
I’d love to stay on top of Cheryl, as long as we were both naked.
“You have to keep at least a 3.0, or else they’ll take away your scholarship,” Mom told Cheryl. “Right, Randy?”
I nodded. I had a football scholarship, but the requirements were the same for Cheryl’s softball scholarship. It wasn’t hard for me to keep a 3.0, and Cheryl was smart enough to do it, too. But I was worried she wouldn’t, since she always preferred to tap a bong instead of a book.
“Mom, I got it, okay?” Cheryl hated being told how irresponsible she was, which wouldn’t happen if she wasn’t so irresponsible. She always managed to get by somehow, but a couple times just barely.
But it wasn’t just Cheryl’s laziness. She was the wilder of us two Lustley kids, always in the principal’s office even before she was a teenager. Mom and Dad knew how Cheryl was, but not everything she did. I’d never admit this, but Cheryl drank a beer before I did, smoked weed before I did, even popped her cherry before I did. That last fact was definitely going with me to the grave.
Dad stepped in and hugged Cheryl. “Now if only your mother would leave, I’d have the house to myself.”
Mom slapped Dad on the back. “Horton, don’t say things like that. The kids might think you’re being serious.”
Dad smiled. “Who said I’m not, Mona dear?”
Dad slid his hands down Cheryl’s slender back until he touched the top curve of her ass, then he moved them over her hips. He got a good grope in without being too creepy about it, the old horn-dog. He and Mom were still very active, so active they’d worn out five mattresses and three box springs. They were loud, too. Usually Mom was louder, but if she did something special to Dad, he could rattle the rafters, too.
“It’s not going to be the same around here,” Dad told Cheryl.
“I’m really going to miss you, too.” escort bostancı Cheryl brushed another tear off her cheek, then put her hand on Dad’s ass. On his ass. His. Ass.
Half an hour later, we were standing in the driveway of my parent’s two-story split-level house. More ‘hugsies’ and ‘kissies’ under the basketball hoop that was still attached to the garage. We hadn’t gotten to campus yet, but at least we were 30 feet closer.
I hugged and kissed Mom on her cheek – making sure I pushed up against her titties – then I hugged Dad. “See you at Thanksgiving,” I said.
Dad reached for his wallet. “You good on gas money, Randy?”
I waved Dad off. “I got a full tank.” I wasn’t worried about fuel. What worried me was the possibility my 10 year-old Honda Civic I’d bought three years ago would bust a hose and start spraying oil every-fucking-where.
“You sure? Remember what happened last year…”
How long’s Dad going to bring that up? Yeah, okay, I ran out of gas on my way to school before first semester last year, and Dad had to drive an hour to get me going again. That was a year ago, let it go already.
Dad rummaged in his wallet. “Or that time when you were leaving practice but couldn’t get your car started because you didn’t have enough gas? Then there was that time–“
I held my hand up. “Dad, Dad, I’m okay.” I looked at my car. “You should be talking to your daughter about packing so much shit in the car.”
Mom shook her head. “Randy, your language.”
Cheryl folded her arms. “I need all of it.”
All of it? Two quilts were squished against the back window so tight I thought the glass was gonna bust out. “You don’t need those, it’s August.”
“It won’t be August forever, doofus,” Cheryl said.
“I know, dork-face. But we’ll get home before it gets that cold.”
Cheryl closed her brown eyes and turned away from me. “Well…”
Dad shoved a couple of twenty-dollar bills at me. “Here, just take it.”
Mom put her arm around me, and her right boob pressed into my arm. Ohhhh, man. “Maybe you should take some extra money along with you,” she said. “I’d hate to see you run out of gas somewhere.”
“We’ll be okay, Mom.” I turned and hugged her, those big soft titties pressing into me. Even though she was wearing a halter top and I had on my ‘ACU Pumas Football’ tank top, I could feel her nipples against my chest. Without realizing it, I slid my hands down her back until they reached the top curve of her ass. Like father, like son. Horndogs both.
While I was hugging and feeling up my mother, Dad gave Cheryl something. He whispered to her and gestured toward me. Cheryl took it and stuffed it into the front pocket of her shorts. Those shorts were so tight I didn’t know how she could fit anything into the pockets, even her fingers.
I was going to say something to Dad about forcing money on me, which was what I figured he’d given Cheryl, but I didn’t want it to become a whole big thing. Besides, me and Cheryl needed to leave. Now.
We waved one last time as my old Honda started down Ridgecrest Drive, the tiny 4-cylinder engine straining. God, I hope we make it. My car was made up of metal, duct tape and crossed fingers. With all of Cheryl’s shit stuffed inside, I was doubtful about our chances.
As we passed our parent’s next-door neighbor’s house, we waved. Well, I waved. Cheryl kinda sorta nodded. Mrs. Shakib, or Amira as she insisted I call her, was sweeping her front porch. She was about my parent’s age and just as hot as Mom. Today, she was wearing a red bikini top that barely kept her titties under control and white boy-shorts that were tight enough to show some camel toe. Plus, she was barefoot. Phew. My cock tingled.
Cheryl managed to keep a smile, a smirk really, painted on her face while she and Amira looked at each other. “Fuck, why don’t she just wear a sign that says ‘Come and get it!'”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe you could lend her yours.”
Cheryl backhanded my right bicep. “Shut up!”
I chuckled. “You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what, that?? I don’t think so. Besides, she’s old.”
I snickered but kept quiet.My sister hated competition, and broke up with a couple of ‘boyfriends’ after they’d said how hot either Amira Shakib or our mother was. No biggie, it’s not like any of those guys were going to be around long anyway.
Cheryl snapped her gaze at me. “What’s so funny?”
I shook my head but kept looking straight ahead.
I drove slowly toward Baker Avenue so I could see Amira in the rear-view mirror as long as I could. God damn, I don’t care if she was ‘old’ or not, she was fucking hot as shit. She was Arabic, but not old-school. She wasn’t shy about wearing clothes that showed a lot of skin, like in the summertime. You almost needed a microscope to find her bikinis. Like Mom, she took care of herself. The biggest difference between them was that Amira had bigger titties, C-cups, and Mom had a rounder ass, a full half-moon. My friends drooled over both of them, ümraniye escort and so did I.
I needed to think about something else. It was going to be hard enough driving for three hours, I didn’t need to have a boner most of the way.
I held my hand toward Cheryl. “Hand it over.”
Cheryl looked at me, her eyebrows wrinkled. “Hand what over?”
“Whatever Dad gave you to give me.”
Turning her head away, Cheryl said, “He didn’t give me anything–“
“–I saw him, Cheryl. Give it.”
“I’m telling you, he didn’t give me anything!”
I patted the tiny bulge in the front pocket of her shorts. Just touching her thigh, even through her shorts, was exciting. “Then what’s that?”
Cheryl covered the bulge with her left hand. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
I glared at her.
She clicked her tongue. “Okay. Dad gave me forty bucks to give to you in case you needed to buy gas.”
I shrugged. “Then give it to me.”
“Are we out of gas already?”
“No, we just left.”
Cheryl smirked. “Then it’s mine.”
“Dad.” Cheryl stuck her nose in the air. “He said if you didn’t need it, I could keep it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do you want a ride home for Thanksgiving?”
Cheryl’s jaw dropped open. “You wouldn’t dare…”
I raised an eyebrow.
Digging the money out of her pocket, Cheryl mumbled. Then she looked at me, a look of mild desperation on her face. “How about I split it with you?”
I just wiggled my fingers.
“Come on, just half?”
When I didn’t answer, Cheryl slapped the two twenty-dollar bills into my hand. “Fucking asshole.”
I smirked as I shoved the money into my pants pocket. Maybe I am an asshole sometimes, but God damn it, it was the principle of the thing. Dad wanted me to have the money, not her. Plus, I hated losing.
Cheryl pulled the sun visor down, opened the mirror and checked her face like she was about to go onstage. “Shit…”
“What’s wrong now?” I asked.
“What do you care?”
I shrugged. If she was going to be like that, fuck it.
“It’s just, I fucking hate crying.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“You didn’t cry when you left.”
I smirked at her. “I’m a guy. Guys don’t cry.”
Reaching for the radio, Cheryl said, “Let’s get some tunes going.”
I pushed her hand away. “Hey, my car, my radio.”
“You’re only going to play that indie-alt-rock shit,” Cheryl said as she pushed my hand away. “That makes me wanna throw up.”
I shoved Cheryl’s hand away again, this time with much more force. “I ain’t driving for three hours listening to Beyonce and Lady Goo-Goo.”
“It’s not Lady Goo-Goo, it’s Lady Ga-Ga.”
“Whatever.” I tuned to 98.4 ‘The Rock’ and cranked the volume. They didn’t play the really hard, speed-metal stuff I liked, so I’d have to put up with candy-bar bands like AC/DC and Metallica. But since I didn’t have a CD player in my car, FM radio would have to do.
“Fuck it, I don’t care.” Cheryl sank down, kicked off her flip-flops and propped her bare feet on the dashboard. “I’m fucking tired as shit.”
“Out late?” I asked more as a joke than seriously.
Cheryl angled her face toward me and peered over the top of her sunglasses. “Promise me you won’t tell Mom and Dad?”
Cheryl chuckled. “I only got home about an hour before Mom came in to get me up.” She closed her eyes and yawned.
“You could’ve at least washed your face,” I said.
“I did. Why?”
I pointed to my own chin. “You got some dried cum right here.”
“Aw, shit!” Cheryl bolted up and looked in the mirror. “Where? Where?”
I again pointed to my own chin. “Right here, right–” I couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed.
Cheryl smacked my right arm. “Why’re you being such a dick today?”
I answered her by laughing.
Cheryl glared for a sec more, then checked herself in the mirror again. “But how’d you know? Did somebody from the party text you?”
“No. I just know you.”
“Don’t be so full of yourself.” She slumped down, propped her feet on the dashboard again and turned away from me. I wondered how many guys she’d ‘said goodbye to’ on her last night in town. I put the over-under at eight, but even at that, I was probably way low.
For the next hour I drove, forcing myself to concentrate on the traffic and the music, but it was hard. Cheryl had pulled her knees to her chest and slid even further down, which pulled her shorts way up and put her thighs and her ass on display. After she started to breathe heavily, I wondered if I could touch her without her realizing it. I didn’t, but it was hard not to.
I stared straight ahead, sometimes looking in the mirror. I could ignore her legs and her ass and everything else, but I couldn’t ignore her feet propped up on the dashboard. The sunlight lit up her toes, which were long and slender, the nails painted purple. I imagined sucking them and licking her feet. I grunted a couple times, trying to chase kartal escort bayan those thoughts out of my head. I didn’t want to be so distracted I’d wreck.
Three hours later, the gate to Parking Lot D at Atlantic Coast University slid open. Just like the rest of ACU, it wasn’t fancy. The lot was full of potholes and half the lights didn’t work, but it was still better than parking in the street where anybody could fuck with your car.
While looking for a spot close to Cheryl’s dorm, I kept glancing at her. If I wanted to do anything, I’d have to do it now. She’d put the back of the seat down as far as she could and was lying on her side facing me. In her sleep she’d slid down even further, so her blue t-shirt was pulled up. Since she didn’t wear a bra, I learned her nipples got hard when she slept. Not only that, she didn’t wear panties. I closed my eyes, shook my head, and jiggled her shoulder. “Hey dork, we’re here.”
It took Cheryl a couple seconds to come around, but when she did, she jerked her shirt down. “Hey! Did you pull my shirt up?!”
I frowned. “What?? Fuck no, I ain’t weird.”
“Then how did it–?”
“When you sleep, you toss and turn like you’re possessed.”
Cheryl looked at me like she didn’t believe me.
“I promise, I didn’t touch you.” I could tell she still didn’t believe me, but I didn’t get mad. I felt guilty enough just knowing I wanted to finger her.
It took another hour to get her crap up to her room, and once we did, she couldn’t even get to her bed. Hey, I told her not to take all that shit. “I hope your roommate isn’t too pissed,” I said as I wiped the sweat from my face with the back of my hand.
Cheryl swayed side-to-side, then leaned against a stack of boxes that was as tall as she was. “Pissed? About what?”
I gestured toward that immense pile of belongings. Was she serious??
Cheryl shrugged. “I talked to her before, and she said she was cool with it.” She took a longer look at it all. “Fuck, this is a lot of shit, though.”
Cheryl’s roommate Heather appeared. “Hey. You Cheryl?”
Cheryl nodded. “That must make you Heather.”
I could tell from the look on Cheryl’s face and her tone of voice that she didn’t like Heather already.
Huffing and puffing, Heather nodded. Then she looked at me, smiling and with her left eyebrow arched. “Who’s this, your brother?”
Cheryl nodded. “Randy. But just call him doofus, everybody else does.”
I sneered at my sister.
Heather stuck her hand toward me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I answered as I shook her hand. We young folk are informal.
Heather arched an eyebrow. She had a sexiness about her, a kind of ‘fuck me’ look. Dried sweat coated her skin. She still had shin guards and a chest protector on, her catcher’s mitt on her left hand and a t-shirt that read ‘ACU Pumas Softball’ on the back. She looked at Cheryl’s stuff, stunned. “Is all this your shit?”
“Yeah…?” Cheryl got that look on her face, and not the ‘how about we fuck?’ look. It was aggression and defensiveness, her ‘I’m gonna punch you in the face’ look. “You said on the phone you were cool with it.”
Heather shook her head. “Well, yeah, but I didn’t think it was this much.” She pointed at Cheryl. “It’s just you, right, moving in?”
My sister was about to say something nasty when I said, “You won’t know it’s there. Cheryl’s a neat freak.” I hated lying, but I was trying to soothe things over before they got out of hand.
Cheryl glared at me, and I glared back. I’d explain to her later why it was better to start off as friends with your roommate.
But Cheryl being Cheryl, she couldn’t help herself. “Yeah, not everybody’s like me. I don’t like having my shit all over the place.”
Well, so much for getting off on the right foot. Granted, Heather’s clothes covered the floor and her bed, her books were sitting wherever they’d been tossed, and her nightstand was overflowing with everything from soda cans to body wash. But regardless, Cheryl needed to learn how to be diplomatic.
“Okay, so maybe I’m a little sloppy,” Heather said, shrugging.
“Why don’t I take the closets?” Cheryl stuck her thumbs into her shorts pockets. “Obviously, you’re not using yours for anything.”
Time for me to leave.
Cheryl wrinkled her brow, then pulled out a twenty-dollar bill from her front shorts pocket. She held it up to me, her mouth open.
I hugged her, not just because I loved my sister, but because I wanted to press her titties into my chest again. “Call me if you need anything.”
For a second, I thought she was going to cry. She hugged me again. Oh man, those titties.
“Come back anytime. I know a way to sneak you in,” Heather said. She stuck out her ass as she walked away, a view I enjoyed very much.
* * * * *
During the fall semester, I saw Cheryl a lot after I started going out with Heather. It was a good thing, too. Cheryl was struggling with her classes, especially ‘Colonial & Early American History’ with Professor Joyce Hull.
“You need a tutor,” I told her one afternoon as we were sitting on a bench in the quad.
“I don’t want no fucking tutor,” she said.
“You could use one for English, too.” I snickered. “Look, I know a girl who’d do it.”
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