AR - It's a date

Adella rolls back onto her side, frowning.

“So the game is a proxy expression for discontent with minority rule,” she says.

“Um,” you reply. That was… You peer at Adella suspiciously. Is she some kind of nerd? How did she hide this from you?

“I will do it,” she says with a sigh, and you see how unenthused she is about it. She already works a job, so this just means more time spent doing stuff that she isn’t that interested in. “Will you help?”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” you say. Do you want to coach little kids? Not really. Do you care about Gurlberg’s politics? Not at all. Do you want to spend time with Adella? Of course, and you don’t care how.

“Good,” she says, looking pleased.

“It’s a date.” You kiss her lips, then roll onto your back and laugh. Now it’s her turn to scoot over closer to you. She puts her hand on your boob, just like you did, and you giggle. “It’s perfect. The Church Team’s gonna lose to a team coached by the two gayest women ever.”

Adella slides her hand down to your belly and frowns. You watch her curiously, then look down at her hand feeling around on your bare stomach.

“Something wrong?” you ask.

“You didn’t finish?”

“Oh my gosh. I did,” you say. It was just… not with your penis. You don’t get to go on because her hand finds you down there, her palm running over your soft shaft. “Oh,” you say, taking a deep breath. Looks like Adella’s done talking about Winter Soccer. You blush as she holds eye contact as she moves down your body, then brings your half-hard shaft to her lips. “OK,” you sigh, relaxing and closing your eyes as she gets started.

Your legs spread on their own, your heels pushing the last of the sheets off the bed. You thought Adella just wanted to get you going again for round two, but that’s not it. She’s slow but firm, sucking hard and taking you deep.

“Hmm,” you whimper, grabbing at her head, but she just catches your hand and holds it, sucking harder. Your hips are trying to get off the bed, but she holds you down until you make a pitiful noise and give in.

She keeps you covered until it’s done, then swallows. A moment later she’s beside you again, wiping her mouth.

“Better?” she says, looking down at your chest rising and falling as you try to get your breath. You can’t speak or move. You just find her hand and hold it, thinking about your conversation with her dad, and the choice that you made. Things could be so different now.

But you aren’t complaining.