DJ’s step-mom and step-sister were always watching those Lifetime movies with scenes just like this, where a plucky guy with boy-next-door looks steps in and stands up to the hulking bully just before, or sometimes just after, he hits a beautiful woman. The plucky guy usually gets beat up a little, and only then the woman realizes what a jerk she’s with, and from there, a beautiful romance develops. He’d seen it play out a thousand times in his living room.
This was not to be one of those stories.
Brayden was not yet aware of this departure from pop fiction, and turned to look at DJ. “Hey, what’s this shit she’s talking about, new rules about using condoms and some shit?”
DJ, a good six inches shorter and not even half the muscle mass of his adversary, regarded him with perfect nonchalance. “Yeah, it’s new policy.”
“Oh yeah? Well fuck your policy. What I do with my junk is my fuckin’ business.” Brayden took a step toward him, looming large.
DJ calmly used his foot to nudge Brayden’s legs apart; the brute looked a little confused, right up to the moment where DJ’s foot connected full speed with his balls. “Well, looks like I get some say in what happens to your junk, too,” he said as Brayden’s face went purple and he collapsed to the ground.
Brittney was on her feet, shocked and exclaiming wildly. For DJ, as confident he was he’d go unharmed from this, instinct was tough to conquer; if Brayden somehow did get up and start swinging, he’d tear DJ apart, and who knows what would happen to Brittney after. He watched him spasming and crying on the floor for a couple minutes nervously until he was sure the man was recovered enough to kick his ass if he wanted to. Then as he made to get up, DJ planted a foot firmly on his back. “Stay down there, all right?”
“Fuck you, dude!” Brayden yelled, yet he didn’t struggle.
He ignored the jibe and looked to Brittney. “So is he like this often?” When she blinked uncomprehendingly, he prompted more specifically. “Pushy, controlling?”
“Not always.” She was quiet a moment, and seeing him down on the ground emboldened her. “Well, yeah I guess. But that’s just how guys are.”
He looked at her. She was timid, vulnerable. And wildly gorgeous.
Well, what’s one more.
“Yeah, we sure can be. Which reminds me of the other reason I stopped by—it’s your turn.”
She blushed a little. “Oh. This is that thing Jillian told me about right? Where like, you make sure we’re on the pill? ‘Cause I got my pills right here,” she said, quickly producing a pill packaging with days on it that showed a little white tablet missing from each day up through today.
DJ was relieved, to be sure; having his harmless fun was one thing, but he didn’t want some girl actually getting pregnant over it. But still. “Well that seems good, but I need to be extra sure, so… time for inspection. Let’s lose the pants.” He tugged downwards on the waistband of her sweatpants, enough that he got a little glimpse of black panties underneath.
As Brittney, who seemed inclined to comply with men wanting her to take her pants off by years of experience, tugged them down, DJ’s attention was so riveted that he barely heard Brayden. “What the hell? You gonna try to fuck my girl, bro?”
“He’s not ‘fucking me,’ Brayden. He’s making sure I’m protected is all.”
“It’s all very official,” DJ assured him.
“Yeah, just a routine thing. You should go on back to the frat house, honey. I’ll text you later,” she said, standing there in the tight black tank top and the matching panties.
“No, I don’t wanna wreck your whole evening. Brayden, go ahead and hop up on the top bunk there, and as soon as I’m done with her, she’s all yours.” DJ patted it invitingly as he lifted his foot off his back. “Come on. I insist.”
With an angry glare at DJ and a sullen, puppy-dog look at Brittney, he hoisted himself off the ground and hopped up into the upper bunk. “Shoes off, babe,” Brittney chided him. “Mercedes will lose her shit if you track anything in her bed.” With some grumbling, he kicked his shoes off onto the floor.
“Speaking of things we don’t want in bed, let’s ditch the top, Brittney,” DJ said.
She reflexively covered her chest with her hands protectively. “I thought you were just checking to see if I was on the pill—why do you need my top off for that?”
“Well, Brittney, for refusing a direct order, I’m afraid you just earned a demerit. That’ll be one blowjob as your sanction. On me, right now—well, after you get the top off.” Seeing her open her mouth to plead, he cut her off. “Do you want that to be two demerits?”
Brittney pouted. “No, I’ll take it off.” And then she did. She even took it off in that sexy, cleavage-enhancing way girls had of cross her arms and grabbing the bottom of it and pulling it off over her head. Her bra followed so quickly after that he hadn’t even gotten over the shock of how amazing she looked with it on. He took her panties off himself, helping himself to a feel of her booty while he did it.
Brittney fucking Jenner. He’d quickly been learning about the difference between girls he’d seen naked online, and hot naked girls in real life. Real girls came with surprises and quirks. Ashley had those gigantic nipples, Missy had a big mole on her butt, Jillian had a little surgical scar on her mid-section. But Brittney…
She was built like a porn star. Her tits jutted out as if no one had bothered to subject them to gravity, massive perfectly shaped hemispheres, hard pink nipples, evenly tanned with the rest of her complexion. She had a narrow waist with a perfectly flat stomach, then wide hips with a big bubble butt behind it over two long meaty thighs. Her skin didn’t have a blemish anywhere on it; her hair shined like it was ready for a shampoo commercial; her teeth gleamed like they’d just been bleached. Maybe they had. Her pubic hair was even trimmed into a neat little heart shape, for crying out loud.
Once she was naked, he didn’t even need to prompt her again; she just sank to her knees, undid his pants, and started licking. He was already rock hard just from the sight of her, but she went through the kissing and sucking motions she’d always used to kick off blowjobs before like they were just habit. A girl as hot as Brittney had surely never needed to suck anyone off; if she’d developed talent at it, it was either because she enjoyed doing it, or—he suspected more likely—that she was susceptible to being pressured into it.
Either way, DJ was glad to be the recipient of her training. Brittney sucked cock like a pro, licking and bobbing, even throwing in some theatric moans. Her feigned—probably feigned?—enthusiasm only encouraged him to push her harder. “Play with your tits, Brittney.” Her big blue doe eyes locked on his as her hands moved up to squeeze and caress her breasts, the blowjob pausing just long enough to murmur a “yes sir” before she dove back on it. Her moans increased in intensity and frequency as she pawed at herself, pinching and twisting at her nipples. The way she was looking at him, it was if she was gauging which things he enjoyed most, and then using those techniques more often.
It had been his intention to pull back before climax, then proceed to do the “inspection,” but Brittney was insatiable. “All right, Brit, let’s get to—” but she shook her head fervently.
“I haven’t finished you yet,” she said, sounding all the world like she was worried she wouldn’t be allowed to finish sucking him off. She got right back into it, her bright eyes staring up into his, paralyzing him in their grasp. Soon, her earnest ministrations had achieved their fruition. His eyes clenched shut and he roared as he came, Brittney’s tongue not missing a beat until it had coaxed every last drop out of him.