Contest entry for Spanking the Monkey! For additional contest entries, please visit:www. fanfiction. net/~spankthemonkey4u

Title: Jack, Jill and a Foosball Table

Name: Twilly

Pairing: Edward x Bella

Rating: M

Disclaimer: The only Twilight I own came from Target, right next to the foosball tables.

A/N: Thank you Obsmama, LadyTazz and beta Maxandmo

I love Target. I live in Forks, Washington; we don't have a Target. There's a Wal-Mart in Port Angeles, which is only about sixty miles away; but it's not Target. For Target, I have to drive through a hundred and twenty five miles of trees and rain. I don't get to go very often.

I ended up in Silverdale last week, and there was no way I was going to pass up the chance to shop under the red bullseye. Since I don't get to go to Target very often, I scour every aisle leaving no bargain unturned, which is how I ended up finding the foosball table from Hell.

It seemed like a great deal, its original price was more than $300. There were several little red clearance tags, the lowest was only $60. That's more than eighty percent off! There's no way I could pass up that deal, so I didn't. I thought it would be something fun to play when we were all hanging out in the converted garage behind my house. The guys usually end up playing xBox out there, which I'm not great at; but foosball, I think I can kick their asses at foosball!

The box was huge and freaking heavy. While my truck can't really go more than about fifty miles per hour, it can haul freaking huge boxes containing foosball tables. I didn't have any problems getting it home.

It's finally the weekend, and my friends have come over to help me assemble the table. Looking at the size of the box, you'd think the damn thing was mostly put together. I thought we'd only have to bolt on the legs and we would be playing within a half hour.

When we open the box, I'm shocked. This isn't 'some assembly required' it is more of, 'here's six thousand little pieces and the most complicated instructions known to man, have fun.' We have a system, I read the instructions, they do it, yet something always seems to go awry.

Edward reaches over the pile of parts to begin assembling one of the bars per the instructions I'm reading out loud, step by step. Emmett grabs it back, saying, "Dude, that's my rod."

Jasper snickers, but Rosalie turns her head towards us, warning, "Edward, keep your hands off my man's rod."

Emmett adds, "He keeps trying to grab my nuts too, baby."

"Oh my God!" I say in frustration, throwing my arms in the air. Every time I read an instruction, they snicker like twelve year olds. The damn table came in like six thousand parts and about half of them are rods, balls, nuts and then there's two freaking ball cups. It was almost amusing at first, but after four hours and three attempts at building this thing, I'm ready to lose it. I huff, "I don't know why you have to make this so hard."

Jasper smirks at me, and the fucker says, "That's what she said."

And that was all it took for me to completely lose it. I pick up the closest object I can find and fling it as hard as I can right at him.

The screwdriver spirals though the air, easily missing Jasper by a couple of feet, before burying point first in the unfinished drywall of the garage. I jump up in shock, looking around the room to see my dearest friends, staring, gape-mouthed and shell shocked.

Alice finally breaks the stunned silence, nearly whispering, "Holy fuck," as she walks over to Jasper.

I missed him by a mile, but that was completely accidental and only because I throw like a girl. Had I hit him with it, I could have really hurt him, and that realization causes tears to well up in my eyes. I know I need to apologize, but what do I say, how do I even start?

Not even Emmett is laughing anymore and the longer the silence continues, the worse I feel. I wish I could just shrink until I disappear, and I don't have to see the way my friends are looking at me. Or maybe if I could turn back time and instead of reaching for that damned screwdriver, I could have quipped something witty, like, "By she, you must not mean Alice, because she's always complaining you're not hard enough," even though it's not true. See, I could be witty and have fun; I don't have to scare the shit out of my friends with violent fits of improvised instruments of mutilation and death.

Jasper breaks this second bout of dazed silence, bending down to Alice's height and asking her quietly to get the hitter box from the car.

I don't smoke, but that doesn't mean I don't know what they're talking about either. He can't do that here. I make my way to him, reaching out to touch his arm, in a way I hope is reassuring, "Um, Jasper, I know I just almost killed you, and that you're probably a little shaky, and I'm really sorry, I am. But, you, you can't," I ramble, "I'm really sorry, I am, and I understand if you don't want to stay, but, um, you can't do that in here," I'm whispering at the end, like the entire room hasn't heard the entire interaction.

Jasper actually throws his head back in laughter, "Bella sweetie, it ain't for me," he says, shaking his head back and forth.

"Then why did you ask Alice to get the 'hitter box'?" I say, whispering the last two words though my clinched teeth, adding, "This is the Chief's house, you know. You can't do that here."

He puts his hand on my shoulder, briefly looking at Edward before saying, "You really are clueless, aren't you, little one?" His smile makes me think he knows something that I'm not privy to, and the glance at Edward makes me think he's in the know too. Jasper soothingly rubs my upper arm a couple of times before counting his points off, one finger at a time, "One, this isn't the Chief's house anymore, not since he moved out to the Res and left it you."

He actually uses air quotes when he says, "Two, 'the Chief' has smoked a bowl or two in this very garage!"

I gasp in shock, that can't be true, my dad would never; but my thoughts are interrupted, "Three, it's not for me. I'm doing okay, you on the other hand," he says, lifting his finger to tap my nose, "you, definitely need it."

Flabbergasted, I look around to my other four friends. None of them will even make eye contact with me. Pussies! That kind of hurts my feelings, but I can't let them know, so I decide to just ignore the suggestion. "Whatever."

Rosalie wasn't going to let it go, "Bella, you need something. You're kind of being a bitch, you should take a hit or ten," she says before refocusing on the magazine she was boringly flipping though before random tools started flying.

Crossing my arms over my body, I'm staring at the side of her head in disbelief. She must be egging me on, because she lifts one side of her perfect lips in a smirk before adding, "Or maybe you just need to get laid," then turns her heard towards the guys, "Edward, can you help her out with that? Do us all a favor."

Oh my god, what the hell? I stand there, my eyes narrowing even more at her before looking between her and Edward. My mouth's opening and closing, like a fish desperately gasping for air. "Rosalie! Edward and I aren't like that. We're just friends." She brings this up all the time when we're alone, but to do it in front of Edward is embarrassing. I guess I never denied that I may have a tiny little crush on him, but who knew she'd try to freaking out me in front of him? Not to mention Emmett, Jasper and Alice. Okay, Alice already knew, but still.

"Yeah, well, if he's really your friend or ours for that matter; he'd fuck the cranky bitchiness out of you," she says glaring at me before raising an eyebrow to Edward. Returning her attention to me, she adds, "I didn't say you have to marry him, just screw him and stop being so cranky."

I can't even look at Edward; I don't want to see the look of disgust on his face at the idea. I can't say I've never thought of having my way with him a time or too, he's gorgeous, and smart and has a great sense of humor. Hanging out with him is always the best part of my day. With Alice and Jasper and Rosalie and Emmett paired off; it left me and Edward together by default. We've never been anything more than friends though.

We're just friends, good friends, best friends; and that's always how he's seen me. Rosalie is constantly suggesting I offer him benefits, but I know that that will never work. He'd go on to find the love of his life, and I'd be the pathetic friend hanging on for scraps of affection. In the end, it would be so awkward; our mutual friends would have to pick sides. They'd feel bad for ditching me, but only until the next time they hung out with Edward. Pretty soon they'd think back and say, "Remember that Bella girl, the clingy one; what ever happened to her?"

Alice's voice snapped me from my thoughts, "Actually, you know the first vibrators were used by doctors to stimulate the clitoris as a treatment for hysteria."

"Oh my god!" I practically yell. Okay, I probably really was yelling, but they needed to stop.

"You should consider it Bella, you kind of are a little hysterical right now," Rosalie says, completely blasé, "Hell, if it'll get you to stop yelling; I'll take you upstairs and stimulate your clit myself."

Alice jumps in place and claps her hands, excitedly adding, "Oh yay, this is perfect! I've always wondered if that would work, but I never think of it in time. I even asked Jasper to suggest it to me when I'm really, really mad because I never think of it when I'm that pissed off, but he's too afraid."

"Pssh, I'm not afraid," he starts to retort before Alice snaps her head in his direction to glare at him.

The boom of Emmett's voice draws attention to him in time to see his eyebrow wiggle as he asks, "Hey Rosie, if you're going to do that, can I watch?"

I do the only think I can think of and that's flip him off.

Pointing to Rosalie, Emmett says, "I believe the offer was for Rosalie to fuck you, or at least flick your bean."

And that was all it took for me to completely lose it, "Are you fucking serious?" I'm tired of them ragging on me, and talking about me like I'm not here. Not to mention that I need to be 'serviced" because I'm such a bitch.

I've had enough. As I storm from the garage, I point to the table and yell, "Take that thing and get rid of it, I don't care how. Put it on the curb, chop it up into little pieces, hotbox the little players or shove it up your asses, I don't fucking care!"

I run in the back door of the house, up the stairs and into my room, slamming my door for emphasis.

I'm crying out of sheer anger, and I've barely had enough time to start pacing before I hear a knock. Still pissed and not ready to deal with Alice, who I'm sure is the one the sent to calm down 'crazy, irrational Bella,' I yell though the door, "Leave me alone, I'm masturbating."

I can't believe I said that, and I cover my mouth with my hands in shock.

The door swings open. My pacing comes to I halt as I yell, "What the hell are you doing, didn't you hear me? I said I was masturbating!"

Edward quickly comes in, shutting the door behind him, and says, "I know. I want to watch."

"Wha-," I really don't know what to say. I mumble a few more incoherent sounds while I try and figure out what to say.

He tilts his head a little like he's intrigued and smiles that crooked little smile of his as he says, "I'm serious, I want to watch." He folds his arms over his chest and leans into me a little bit, like he's waiting for my reply.

"You want," I huff, narrowing my eyes, "you want to watch?"

He nods, "Yes. I want to watch."

"Watch me, you know…"


"How much have you had to drink? Has Rosalie convinced you to give poor, desperate Bella a friendly roll in the hay?" I ask sarcastically. "I don't do friendly benefits," I remind him.

His smirk brightens into a full smile, and he shakes his head, "Nope, I came all on my own. No hay rolling, I won't even touch you. I just want to watch."

I'm at a loss for words. His beautiful smile, the intensity of his deep green eyes, even his smell; they draw me in. I can't think of how to get out of this, and I'm not sure I want too.

I reach over and grab a huge armful of laundry I have piled on the sitting chair opposite the foot of my bed. I drop the clothes on the floor before pointing at the now empty chair and tell him, "You sit there."

I turn to go into the bathroom; I need a moment; to stall and to think of a way to back out, or to give him the opportunity to back out.

He calls out, "Is that where you keep your toys?"

"Toys?" Oh, he means those kind of toys, I have to think fast, "Um no, I have to do it the old fashioned way. I just need to wash my hands first, you know, before I touch my girly bits," I say, circling my fingers in the general area of said bits.

I've turned the tables on him, because for the first time, he's the one opening and closing his mouth in a desperate attempt to find appropriate words. It kind of feels good not to be the one who is stunned into silence.

I take my time washing my hands, hoping he'll call this whole thing off, and praying he won't. I pull my hair out of its messy bun and brush it smooth before putting it back in a less messy bun. Then I start to brush my teeth. I'm still working on my upper molars when it occurs to me that I don't really have a reason to brush my teeth. I shrug my shoulders at myself in the mirror and quickly finish the job. Now that I've brushed my teeth, there could be toothpaste residue on my hands, so I wash them again. I'm out of excuses to stay in the bathroom, so I meekly head back to my room.

He's still there. I guess he's not going to back out.

I move over to my bed, and fluff the pillows. There's still time for one of us to back out. Still stalling, trying to call his bluff; I sit on the side of my bed and slowly take my shoes off.

I look over my shoulder at him, and he's leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring intently at my back. "Are you stalling Bella? You haven't changed your mind have you?"

Maybe he's the one that's trying to call my bluff. I want to back out, I want to call it off, there's no way I can 'feed the meter' in front of him; I'll die of embarrassment.

But I don't want to be the one that backs down. I climb on to the bed, still fluffing my pillows so they are just right,d and I can prop against them. He's still not moving, he's just looking back at me. I can't tell what exactly he's thinking. Maybe he does this with girls all the time, I'm sure he has not had problems finding girls to do all kinds of dirty things for him. Maybe he's some kind of kinko pervert who likes to watch girls get off.

My eyes briefly meet his, and I know he's not. He's Edward, and he's kind of perfect. If I were his kind of girl, I'd hold on and never let go. But I'm not. I'm desperate, tag a long Bella, so instead; I'll just diddle myself in front of him. Oh god, I'm the kinko pervert!

I try to hide the three or four deep breaths I take to try and ready myself for the next part. I'm pretty sure this will push him over the edge. With every bit of false confidence I can muster, I quirk one eyebrow at him, and reach for the buttons of my jeans. I'm laid out on the bed, ready to make my fingers disappear, but still, he's not moving.

My pause causes him to break his look away from my lap and when his eyes meet mine again, I'm unprepared for the intensity of his stare. I've always known Edward was very attractive, but this is beyond fuckhawt. If he keeps looking at me like that, I might cum without having to dive into my pants at all. His gaze makes me feel like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted, that I'm the only thing he will ever want.

I want more of that feeling. Resting my feet flat on the bed, I open my legs wide. I have a prefect view of him between my raised knees, as I slip my hand beneath the splayed vee of my jeans and begin rubbing myself over my panties. I don't even care that they're already damp, just rubbing through them feels amazing. I close my eyes, as I begin to lightly stroke the inside of my thigh with my other hand.

His quiet groan reminds me that he's sitting at the foot of my bed. I lift my eyes to see him, now leaning back, trying to inconspicuously rub himself through his own jeans.

The thought of him getting excited by watching me, makes me feel sexy as hell and much bolder. He glances up at me and if he's embarrassed about being caught, he isn't showing it. His cocky smirk is back when he asks, "Is that all you're going to do, rub yourself through your panties? I mean, it's hardly worth the effort, is it?"

I'm locked in his gaze, I know he's playing me, controlling me; but I don't care. As long as he's looking at me like that, I'll do whatever he says. I'll even do it with my fingers in my hooha.

I slip my hand under my panties dipping two fingers lower. My free hand that has been rubbing the inside seam of my jeans trails up and under my shirt. The sensation of my nails lightly skimming across my breast is so amazing, I start to wonder if that's why girls go girly.

Edward's groan brings me out of my thoughts, and I open my eyes just in time to see him jump out of his chair.

That's it, he's leaving, I've chased him off. I should be happy because I won; but I'm not. I want him back in his chair, I want him watching me, I want those eyes to look at me with that same hunger again.

I stop all movement and close my eyes in shame and embarrassment. How could I do this? What kind of a freak am I?

I never hear the twist of the knob, instead I feel the mattress dip under the weight of his knee. I open my eyes in surprise, just as he grabs my foot, "Don't stop," he demands and I obey.

He takes my other foot too and pulls both feet to straighten my legs. He grabs my jeans by their cuffs at my ankles and starts to tug, "These were blocking the view," he says, as he finally completely pulls them free of my legs and tosses them behind him with a flourish.

I'm too shocked my his actions to even react when he reaches for my panties, grazing my hips with the back of his finger before sliding them off too, "So were these, " he chuckles, as he spins them around his finger.

Instead of moving back to his chair, Edward rests back on his haunches between my legs. He leans forward a bit and reminds me, "Don't Stop."

He leans forward, nearly over me when he asks low and huskily, "Do you have any idea how hard I am right now?"

With that encouragement, sexy, brazen Bella is back. I don't care that he can hear what my fingers are doing from his position, or that he's seeing my in all my glory. I continue playing with my tits and love that he can see my nipples hardening through my shirt.

He pulls himself even more over me; the want in his eyes is even more potent up close. It makes me feel beautiful and sexy, and I want to be bold and seductive and sexy, so I use his own words, "Is that all you're going to do, rub yourself through your jeans? I mean, it's hardly worth the effort, is it?"

He pulls away me so quickly, I'm a little startled. He's upright kneeling on the mattress and frantically unbuckling his belt and popping the buttons of his jeans, "Don't stop. Fuck, just don't stop," he says, as he pushes his and boxer briefs down as far as they'll go without having to get off the bed.

He strokes himself a couple of times as he looms over me, still upright. Edward has always bragged about his massive dick, but I always thought it was typical male bravado; but it wasn't.

When I see him grab himself and tug roughly, I think about how lucky he is to have such long freaking fingers. I've thought about what those fingers could do to a woman once or twice, but it's only when I see him squeezing himself so tightly, that I see how fortunate he really is. What kind of tragedy would it be if he had that big dick and little hands that couldn't even wrap around it? He'd have to hire out his jerking off. I'd volunteer.

I'm snapped out of my musings when I feel the mattress dip near my shoulder where he's resting his hand and supporting his entire upper body. He's fully over me, and my eyes follow the line of his torso and outstretched arm until I can see him using his thumb to pump my body lotion. I giggle when I tell him, "Your cock is going to smell like coconut!"

I hear him gasp, and my eyes snap to his, "Did you just say cock?" I'm nervous and I start to bite my bottom lip. He must have noticed I also stopped playing with myself because he once again pleads, "Don't stop."

His smile puts me at ease, and I begin to plunge into myself once again. Our breathing quickens as we are both getting ourselves closer and closer. I am almost mesmerized watching the muscles under his forearm twist and contract as he repeatedly pulls on himself.

He voice is low and rough when he pleads, "Say it again, dirty Bella. Please. Say it again."

"Ummm…cock." I attempt to sound sexy by drawing out the word. It must have been at lease passable because he practically groans out, "Oh fuck."

I pull the hand out from under my shirt and tug on the hem of his t-shirt. "This is blocking my view," I say, snickering that I am once again repeating his words.

He smiles down at me and his trademark smirk is back, only magnified by about a thousand. "Oh, you want to watch too," he says, as he lets go of himself only long enough to grab the back of his t-shirt by the neck and rip it over his head.

He's back over me in a second, and I can see the head of his peen disappear and reemerge from his tight fist over and over again. He's tugging so hard and fast, it almost looks like he's going to rip it off his body. If he does, I want it.

My free hand is back under my shirt, pinching and tugging. I'm getting close. He must be too, because he's grunting louder and louder.

I take one more pass at my tits before I slowly run my nails down my abdomen and hips and along my thigh. His eyes follow my hand as it reaches across to him, barely grazing the outside of his thigh. I drag my nails lightly across the front of his leg, and then to the inside of his muscular thigh, before reaching for his sac. He must like the light nails as much as I do because he shudders slightly.

My small hand, massaging the little space between his two balls doesn't interfere with his jerking at all. I notice how my one hand is keeping pace with his, and somehow even Edward's movements seem on pace with them. I'm not sure if I'm setting the pace or following it.

Between the rhythm we've set, the sounds coming from my own exploration, his grunts and my panting; I'm close, so, so close. He seems to be too.

I don't know how he has the strength to hold himself over me like he does. It's this weird place that is very intimate, yet distant; like we are connected even though he's not even touching me. It's kind of surreal.

His supporting arm is beginning to quiver, and my rapid breathing has turned to almost uncontrollable moaning. "Don't stop Bella, you're almost there," he says. I only have enough brain and breath left to whimper, "Oh God, Edward, I'm so close."

My head is lolling back and forth, and his grunts are rougher and more forceful. He lowers his face closer to mine he whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful, I can't wait to be inside you."

And the entire world comes to a screeching halt. And I mean everything; the hand in me, the one on him, his violent yanking, my hurried breathing, the chirps of the birds, I think even the world stops spinning.

My eyes shoot to his, and all of the embarrassment of fucking myself in front of one of my best friends, all of the remorse for not backing out when I had the chance, all of those feelings about how what we were doing was wrong, everything I suppressed when I was lost in his stare and my own pleasure; hit me at once.

"Edward, we shouldn't be doing this. You're my best friend. I don't want to screw that up with a 'friends with benefits' situation." I can feel tears prickling my eyes. I want what we were sharing so much, but I need my best friend more. I can't afford to mess up what we have for casual sex.

He lowers his mouth to my ear, I can feel his hot breath on my neck, and when he growls, "Don't stop," my hand obeys without any conscious thought from my numb brain.

He's not touching himself anymore. Instead, he's using both arms to continue hovering over me, naked down to his knees, and his dick still hard. He's over me, but still not touching me. Some part of my brain tells me I should feel trapped and caged by his strong arms on either side of my shoulders, but I don't. I feel safe and wanted.

"Bella, don't stop. You're so close. I can see it, I can hear it, and someday I want to taste it."

His words spur me on, and I'm rubbing and thrusting my two fingers into myself as hard and fast as I possibly can. I'm close and just as my orgasm breaks the surface; he pulls his face back, just far enough so I can see his sparkling eyes. His lips barely move as he whispers, "Bella, I don't want that either. I don't want to be your friend. We're not friends; we haven't been for a long time."

It's probably the only thing he could have said that would have chased away those regrets, the only thing that that would make this okay.

Between the orgasm and his words, I've burst into tears. Edward rests his forehead on mine, and even though I know he's already stopped pleasuring himself, I still tell him, "Don't stop."

I pull my hand out of myself and try to discretely wipe it on the comforter before I bring my hands up to cradle Edward's face, repeating to him, "Don't stop."

He's back to yanking furiously at himself, and I'm swallowing every pant he has to offer. I tilt my head and close the distance between his lips and mine. The contrast of his rough tugging and the gentle kiss seems incongruous, but it's not, it's perfect.

Again, I whisper to him, just like he did to me, "Don't stop."


Low and breathy, he whispers back, "I want more."


"Don't stop."


"I want it all."


"Don't stop."


"Please let me have it."


"Don't stop."


"I want you."


"Don't stop."


"You're the reason I can't date. You're the reason I can't move away."


"Don't stop."


"I want...shit." He frantically looks around, but it's too late. He caught what he could in his hand, but my shirt still got most of it.

Still lying under him, I giggle, "Aren't you supposed to say, 'Oh fuck, I'm cumming', or something like that?" He's still propped over me and he looks embarrassed while he holds what cum managed to land in his hand. I look down at my stained shirt, and nod to him, "You might as well," I reassure him with a shrug. And he wipes his hand on a un-spooged section of my shirt.

We take turns in the bathroom, and redress, which is when I remember I still have company. Shit, I wonder if they'll notice I'm wearing a different shirt.

Edward seems convinced they won't know anything, but I'm not so sure. We make it down the stairs, and as soon as we step onto the drive way, I hear the distinctive sounds of little plastic men kicking little nylon balls.

I marvel at what I see when we actually make it to the garage. There is my foosball table, and it's beautiful. All the men are in the right positions and all the handles are on the correct sides.

"Wow guys, this looks great! I can't believe you got this done."

Rosalie scoffs, "They didn't. They sat there and watched us follow the directions." she says, pointing at Alice and herself.

Emmett pipes in, "Hey, we helped!"

"Yes they did," Alice continues, "They turned it over for us once we had it built!"

We play a couple of quick games before Rosalie announces, "I hate to be a party pooper, but we've got to head out."

"Oh yeah, us too." Alice chirps, grabbing Jasper's hand and leading him out of the garage.

There is something going on between the four of them, but I'm not quite sure what it is.

They almost make it down the driveway before Emmett turns around and calls to me, "Hey Bella, it looks like it's going to rain, you might want to close your bedroom window."

Rosalie hauls off and smacks him on the shoulder, but they're a little too far away for me to hear what she's saying to him.

"Thanks Emmett…" Oh my god. The window was open while we were up there! They heard then entire thing.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read Coconut Buttered Corncobs and Speared Clams, which is the original title for Jack, Jill and a Foosball Table. I'm not going to lie; you would totally make my day if you left me a review.