Contest entry for Spanking the Monkey! For additional contest entries, please visit: www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/~spankthemonkey4u
Rating: That would be M. Sex, drugs, and Snoopy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or it's characters. Nor do I profit from writing about them touching themselves. I do however believe in the power of self-love.
Also please note FFn fuckery is showing this story as way more words more than it actually is (4778).
A/N: This is my entry for the Spanking The Monkey contest! C2 can be found here: .net/u/2945329/spankthemonkey4U - don't forget to set the rating to 'M'.
There was a joke about angst on the contest page and so I guess I weaved a little teenage drama in. Or, a lot. Not epic. Self-love ahead.
"It wasn't a question, Bella."
"I'm not doing it," I said, putting on as much authority as I could, but my Cocoa Pebbles weren't buying it.
"Yes, you are. We already told her mother it would be fine."
I hated being seventeen. This shit just kept happening. I swear I had more freedom when I was seven than I did now.
"We're not even friends," I whined. "I have nothing to say to her."
"Bella." My mother turned from the eggs she was cooking to face me. "Quit being difficult. It's just one night. She'll come over, you kids can turn on your computers and put your headphones in and ignore each other, and her mom will pick her up in the morning. Stop being a brat."
It wasn't entirely accurate to say that Leah Clearwater and I weren't friends. We had been friends. Past tense. Which was exactly why I didn't want her to spend the night here.
It was little consolation that Leah was probably just as unhappy to be coming over as I was. Her mom and aunt were going out of town for a distant relative's funeral, and they didn't want Leah unsupervised - not after the last time they left her on her own.
Let's just say that it was the biggest party in the history of La Push. Most of the my-parents-are-gone high school parties I'd been to, especially the ones thrown by girls, were ruined by people running around putting coasters under drinks and screeching about cigarette butts on the carpet. Not Leah. She truly threw caution to the wind. Instead of a tense little deer, trembling and darting under the fear of having her folks find out she's had a party, she moved like a lioness through the bodies crowding the small house and the backyard, all hungry and broken and drunk, laughing and dancing in front of the bonfire someone had built in her backyard. From my vantage point, hiding on the wooden steps of the deck, I watched her abandon herself to feeling like a phoenix. I hadn't been invited, but tagged along with a mutual friend. Watching her sway in the flickering shadows reminded me bitterly of years ago, when we were best friends, peas in a pod. Two innocent little tomboys, connected at the hand, smiles turned into the wind.
Two Cocoa Pebbles stuck together that had fallen apart in the milk.
Shit. I had no idea how long I'd been staring into my cereal, dumb with nostalgia. I was going to be late for school.
Fifteen minutes later, I barreled out the door and into my mom's car just before she started honking.
This was going to be a long damn day.
I just stared out the window. Teachers were more willing to let me daydream on Fridays. I'd get notes from someone else. Maybe that boy with the reddish hair who made me want to do all those things I'd only seen on the internet … I mean, okay, I was a virgin. Fucking shut up, half of the girls at Forks High were too. I'd kissed a few boys, and let a guy use his hands on me, but no matter how many porn clips I watched, I still felt like something was missing. I knew where everything went, I was just missing the why. When I let my best friend Rose's cousin Jasper put his hand up my skirt at a party, I was more curious than anything – and, sadly, I stayed that way. He was half in the bag and just fumbled around in my panties, pinching and poking until I told him to stop. I got up to get another drink, and when I came back, he was out cold on the floor, his fingers still glistening with me.
I wondered what the point was. It was a little bit fun, but mostly made me want to run away.
The bell broke me out of my thoughts and the Pavlovian shuffling of books into backpacks began.
"Hey," an unexpected hand on my shoulder and sweetly familiar voice made me jump.
"Shit, you scared me," I gasped, my heart pounding.
"Sorry," she apologized, lifting an eyebrow in a way that told me she wasn't really sorry at all. "I thought we should talk."
"I know. I'm sorry, I tried to get my mom to -"
"No, I mean, I'm sorry too. I told my mom I didn't need a babysitter, but, well," she shrugged. "You know."
"Yeah," I bit my lip and slung my backpack onto my shoulder. "I have to get to English."
"I'll walk with you," she volunteered cheerfully.
Fuck. The awkwardness was excruciating. How could she be so cool about this? These were the most words we'd spoken to each other since her dad's funeral five years ago.
The bare, toasted almond tan skin of her arm brushed against mine as we turned to walk out. The heat radiated off her like a little walking flame; it always had. I had been the cool, pale pebble warmed by her sun for the long years of our friendship. Right up until it was over.
Her voice sounded so clear and bright, so much like it had when I was pretty much the only person she wanted to talk to.
"So, I guess you're not looking forward to tonight," she laughed, "but we're stuck with each other, right?"
"So we could either be uncomfortable about it and ignore each other and have it feel like punishment," she paused to pull a cherry Jolly Rancher from her pocket and peel it from the wrapper with her teeth.
"Or ..." I could hear the little red candy clicking against her teeth as she rolled it around in her mouth.
"We could pretend we were, like, anybody else and try to have a little fun tonight."
I squinted at her. "You want to – I mean, with -"
"No, none of that," she chuckled at me. "No apologies, no blame. Blank slate. Okay?"
She looked down at me so benevolently. I hated that she had gotten so tall while I'd stayed petite. My body had gained these unwelcome curves while she kept her lean, clean, athletic physique. My generous hips and breasts had turned me into a target for attention and catcalls, while her body had shone like a neon sign for rude, horny boys to leave her alone. She was taller than almost half of them and leaner, too. Add in the strong angles of her cheekbones, and she looked like a walking weapon.
To everyone but me, that is.
To me she was still five years old, swinging beside me at the playground, daring me to swing as high as she did, and laughing because she knew I wouldn't.
She flew so far above me. And here she was now, still looking down.
Breaking into my preschool flashback, Leah slapped me on the back, a little too hard.
"So I'll be over after track practice, about 4:30. We'll have fun. Okay?"
She walked away, but turned back before heading into the stairwell to flash me a little smile that started at the corner of her mouth, just barely reaching the middle of her lips. It was the kind of smile that held secrets.
I didn't know what to expect from her. I didn't know her anymore.
But I was pretty sure I was going to learn a new definition of the word "fun."
I was embarrassed of everything.
I was embarrassed of the stupid duck-pattern china my mom served the dinner on.
I was embarrassed of the dinner itself. Hamburger helper with a side salad. Seriously? Why not just inject us with saturated fat and save having to wash the plates, mother?
I was embarrassed of the things my parents asked about. They asked Leah how school was going ("Okay. I really like History."), if she had a boyfriend ("God, no. I mean, not at the moment. I'm not really looking for that."), and if she could help find me a boyfriend ("I don't think Bella needs a boyfriend, but I could introduce her to some friends of mine, if she wants.").
Then they asked about her mother.
"She's been okay. The first year was the hardest on her, but things have been a lot better since then. Having my aunt Claire move in helped a lot. I don't know how we ever got along without her. I mean, I'd still rather have my dad back, but ..." she paused to shrug. "This is okay too."
I wanted to lock myself in the bathroom and flush myself down the toilet, piece by piece.
So, even though I was dreading spending time alone with Leah, I rushed up the stairs with her right after dinner to get away from my mom and Phil and their inquisition.
I flopped on my bed and buried my face under a pillow.
"God, I am just so sorry, Leah." I mumbled, muffled.
"For what? Your parents? They're not so bad," she chuckled. "They're pretty much exactly like they were five years ago. I almost missed them, in a way."
"They're completely humiliating," I moaned, sitting up and pressing the pillow against my lap.
"They're parents," she supplied, "you have to be embarrassed by them. It's in the rules or something."
She sat down on the scrollwork day bed where she'd slept so many times before.
She bounced a little, testing it, running her hands over the sheets. There were new linens on it now, big purple flowers where Snoopy and Woodstock once lived. It wasn't the same anymore. And neither were we.
"So," she opened her duffel bag, searching for something, "I brought some stuff. We don't have to do it, but – aha!" She proudly held up a little baggie with two little white birthday candles and a green lighter.
"Um, it's not my birthday."
"Bella," her voice dropped and lifted one eyebrow, "This shit ain't just for birthdays."
She tossed the baggie at me easily, and once it landed in my lap, I realized these were not birthday candles. They were two thin joints.
I opened the bag and inhaled the sweet, herbal scent I recognized from a couple of parties. It smelled a little like her Aunt Claire and a little like my old piano teacher's house. I'd smoked weed a couple times before, just a hit or two, and I liked the fuzzy, goofy feeling it gave me, but I'd never split a joint with someone before, let alone two.
"We don't have to smoke if you don't want to," Leah looked down, almost shyly.
But what would the night be like without it? An endless stretch of awkward, tepid conversation, pocked by long pauses and verbal missteps.
I tossed the bag back to her.
"Hell yeah, I want to."
Her eyes widened and she dropped her head back. "I'm so glad you said that!"
She motioned me over to her side as she knelt beneath my window and opened the bag, placing a skinny joint between her lips tightly and pinching it with two fingers as I held the low flame to the end.
She inhaled slowly and deeply, trying to pull the fire into her lungs, and when she finally got it, puffed her chest out with a huge breath of smoke, and passed the joint to me.
I took three small, quick puffs, a trick I'd seen Jasper do the night he had his fingers inside me. It looked cool and God, I wanted to be cool in front of Leah. Or at least stop looking so lame next to her.
Holding in my breath for a few seconds, I exhaled in a thin, focused stream of smoke, aimed out the window and into the darkening trees.
I hoped Phil wasn't outside walking the dog.
I turned to look at Leah, who was just staring at me with a blank look on her face.
She shook her head.
Ugh. I was already starting to feel the weed silly me up a little, but I didn't feel like playing guessing games.
"What, Leah? Why are you staring like that?"
Suddenly she exhaled her breath of smoke in a gasp, a decidedly ungraceful almost-cough that sent as much of the hit backwards into my room as out the window.
Damn, she held that in a long time.
She motioned for the joint back and sucked in another lungful before passing it back to me.
"This is it for me," I warned, before duplicating my previous move with three staccato puffs.
She nodded, and exhaled her hit out her nose this time. "Me too. For now."
I handed her the joint, only half-gone, and she stubbed it out on my windowsill, carefully crushing the cherry and tucking the roach back into the plastic bag.
Fuck, I wish she hadn't put it out on my windowsill. How would I explain it to Phil?
The irreverence of that thought made me giggle, and Leah looked at me with a knowing smile.
I rolled my eyes at her. "Duh."
My body felt like it was sinking into itself, settling warmly into relaxation. I closed my eyes just because it felt so good to close them, my mouth pulling itself into an easy smile I couldn't stop if I wanted to. I fell backwards slowly, the soft carpeting so comfortable under me. Leah laid down beside me the same way.
"So what do you want to do?" Her voice sounded like it was miles away.
I almost opened my eyes to check that she was still in the room, but no. Heavy lids ruled.
My body drifted. Words floated around my brain like fish I couldn't catch. It felt like hours before she spoke.
"We could watch a movie."
And then it felt like hours before I could form my response.
Another long pause rolled by. "You want to pick the movie, or should I?"
We were trapped in the weed time-warp. At this rate it would be dawn before we even found the DVDs.
I dragged my heavy-feeling torso upright and crawled over to the shelf beside my bed. I tossed the wallet-style DVD case over in Leah's direction as I climbed into bed and fired up my laptop.
"You pick," I told her.
I checked my gmail as she leafed through my small movie collection.
"Hey, can we watch Remember Me?" she asked. "I never saw it but the British guy in it is hotter than fuck."
"Who, Pierce Brosnan? He's, like, old. You got a daddy fetish, Leah?"
And my heart stopped.
I couldn't believe I just said that.
Her dad was gone forever, and I just made some lame joke about it.
My hand flew to my mouth as if I could stuff the insensitive words back down my throat.
"Shit. I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry."
She scrunched up her face. "It's okay. Anyway, I meant the other guy. Roger Patterson or whatever. I want to ride his face like a dirty little pony."
Something about being high made me bold. I set my laptop down on the bed beside me.
"I'm really, really sorry. About your dad, and, you know ..." I said it so quietly, I wasn't sure she'd heard me. I wasn't even sure I wanted her to.
The day of her dad's funeral came at a weird time in our friendship. Leah's cousins were visiting for the summer, and she'd been spending so much time with them – fishing, swimming, hiking – and less time with me. And then when Mr. Clearwater had his heart attack, I didn't know what to do. I sent a card. I called, but she sounded hollow. We hung up after looping through "I'm sorry", "Yeah", "Are you ok?", "I guess." for a few minutes.
And then when I saw her at the funeral service, looking so un-Leah-like in her black dress and tights, my heart just couldn't stand it. The pain she must be in, and how I had no way of easing it. The desire to comfort her warring with the awkwardness of not knowing how. The fear that gushed like a spring in my belly that my dad (or Phil) might die too. The guilty ache that I got to have two living dads while her only one had been taken away.
So I just left. My parents let me cry in the car for the rest of the service, and took me home instead of following to the grave site, saying I wasn't feeling well.
And we didn't talk again that whole summer.
Or the next five summers.
Until yesterday at the end of class.
Leah's eyes looked into my soul from her spot there on the floor.
Her voice was warm and smooth as her skin when she gave a said smile and said, "I know."
Without another word, he crawled up onto the bed beside me and popped the disk into the laptop.
Her leg touched mine all along their length as she settled in next to me and we balanced the laptop between us.
Two hours (including a break to finish the joint) later, Leah shoved the laptop roughly off our legs.
"That ending was fucking lame!" she complained loudly.
"Ssh, my parents are probably asleep! And I tried to warn you," I giggled.
"No you didn't!" she protested, tossing a pillow at me.
"Oh, I didn't? Well, I meant to."
The weed had just about worn off, the stupor faded into a mild, sleepy buzz.
"Want to watch another one? I have that guy's other movie, Twilight, but my mom keeps it in her room for some reason. I could go get it."
"Nah," Leah yawned, "I'm kinda beat. Think I'm just going to go to bed."
She pawed through her bag for her pajamas and toothbrush and headed for the bathroom.
Come to think of it, I was kind of tired myself. I stood up, stripped down to my panties, and went hunting for some sleep shorts and a tank top in my dresser when the stupid movie somehow started playing again.
I crossed the room to shut it off and just as I was closing the laptop, Leah came back.
"Forgot my – whoa."
And there I was, bare, exposed to her eyes, all my curves and lines and floral pink Target panties.
My breath froze in my lungs as she took me in for a moment too long before averting her eyes and kneeling over her backpack.
She ducked quickly back into the bathroom and my lungs filled up again.
I waited for the heat of embarrassment to wash over me, but I found a different feeling blooming instead. I didn't really know what to call it; it felt different than being naked in the locker room at school, but had the same note of exposure somehow. It definitely wasn't a bad feeling though. I was thinking I kind of liked it.
Until I heard Leah turn off the tap in the bathroom and realized I was still undressed. I grabbed a pair of pink sleep shorts and matching pajama top and threw them on quickly. But I still felt like I was naked somehow.
So I jumped in bed and crawled under the blanket.
Still too naked.
I turned off the light, leaving just the thin, filtered moonlight from the window and my Snoopy nightlight that, really, I should have unplugged and tossed in a drawer before anyone came over.
Leah stepped out into the darkness, the light from the bathroom illuminating the shape of her slender legs through her threadbare-thin Snoopy nightshirt.
I don't know why I noticed that.
"Wow. It's dark."
"Yeah, I'm tired." I mumbled.
"Uh, okay then," she said, fumbling across the room to the daybed. "Good night, Bee."
I smiled into the darkness. That was her nickname for me, back in the days when we were two inseparable little girls, best friends, baby soul sisters.
Speaking that nickname for the first time in five years felt so strange and sweet.
And I thought about all the sleepovers we used to have, all the late-night kitchen raids and giggling over s'mores at 3 am. All the nights we pored over teen magazines, reading each other the most disgusting "embarrassing moments" or the most ridiculous celebrity gossip.
How simple things were then. And how far we had come from those innocent days.
And I thought about the little smirk she had shot at me in school earlier.
And I thought and thought and thought, and sleep did not come.
"I can't fall asleep," she spoke in a normal voice, but it sounded deafening in the silent room, making me laugh.
"That guy from the movie was, like, incredibly fucking hot," she said, and I could hear her shifting in her sheets.
"I would fuck him in like, a split-second."
"Leah!" I laughed.
"I totally would, though! Wouldn't you?"
I thought for a minute, recalling his face. His stubbled jaw alone made me feel a sort of warm heaviness move into my lower body.
"I guess," I spoke timidly.
"You guess?" She threw a pillow at me. "With that voice? And those eyes? And his hair? Shit, girl, I'd even let him put it in my ass!"
I laughed so hard I snorted.
"Gross! You'd really ..?"
"Uh-huh. I'd let him do … whatever … he wanted … to me."
The pauses in her sentence, the new breathy quality to her voice, and the rustling of the bedclothes all alerted me to something very special happening over on her side of the room.
"Lee? Are you …?"
"Yeah," she whispered.
"Oh my god."
Oh my god, did I say that out loud?
"Does it bother you? Or are you jealous?" Her answer had no note of shame, but rather an undercurrent of challenge.
"A little of both. Maybe more of the last one." The skin on my face flushed and I thanked the darkness for concealing the blush of the century.
"Well, get crackin' then, Bee," she chuckled a little. "Or are you waiting for an engraved invitation?"
Impossibly, I blushed deeper. Fortunately, my silence spoke for me.
"Do you – are you, um – like, have you not done this before?" she asked gently.
"Not … uh, not really," I squeaked past the lump in my throat.
"Wow. You're even a virgin to yourself? Geez, girl, what are you saving it for?"
"Hey, no," I protested,"I mean … I've messed around down there before, I just … I guess I don't really see what all the fuss is about."
Thankfully, her voice was warm and kind as she responded. I don't know what could possibly embarrass me more in this moment, but she was trying to make me feel at ease.
"Like, you've messed around with what? Your fingers?"
I nodded, but then remembered she couldn't see me in the dark.
"Like, sticking them in?"
I swallowed hard. "Yeah."
"Okay, forget about that. No fingers inside. We'll save that for the advanced level," she chuckled. "Just … explore around. Feel yourself out a little. Follow what you like the best. Look for a spot at the very front that feels different, like it's really sensitive."
I huffed out an embarrassed breath. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
"Oh, I'm sorry, orgasms not good enough for you? Feel free to go back to sleep then, Princess FrozenSnatch! More for me!" she laughed.
I laughed too. I loved how she could lighten up even this moment.
She really was like the sun.
A tiny, hot sun that was humming a low breath of pleasure from across the room.
Okay, now I was starting to feel something.
My hand ventured down into the pink sleep shorts and the pink panties, diving straight for the center when I remembered her words: no fingers inside. And then my hand just stalled for a moment, wondering what I should do. One experimental finger slipped in between my lips, feeling the slickness there waiting for me. It made me feel stupid because I didn't know what was supposed to come next.
Wait, this couldn't be that hard. Or else boys wouldn't be able to do it.
I just had to make my blanket move like Leah's was moving.
And that seemed like a leisurely paced back-and-forth sort of movement.
So I mimicked her rhythm with my hand, back and forth, to little effect.
I was starting to wonder if I'd have to fake it, masturbating, with my ex-best-friend coaching me.
But then I hit something. At first, it was so sensitive I jerked my hand back with a gasp at the strangeness. But I found the spot again with my one curious finger, and began to press at it from different angles, finding one that finally gave me some hope that maybe my anatomy was working after all.
"Just think of Rupert Pantieson. Think about making out with him," Leah offered.
My hand stilled. "Uh, I don't think that's his name."
Even in the dim silver moonlight, I could see her turn to me, her eyes flashing with humor.
"I don't give a shit what his name is! I don't want to hump his name, Bella!"
"Shhhhh! My parents are sleeping!"
But Leah was already back in her mind, wrapped up in her fantasy.
"Did you see those hands? I bet he's fucking hung," she whispered.
The thought brought my hand to life again, rubbing over the right spot with increased fervor. I felt a thick heat spreading over my entire abdomen from between my legs, like every nerve ending was stretching downwards into my own touch.
"Like, pretend it's his hand. He's the one getting you off. Is it working?"
I began to wonder what that stubble would feel like against my cheek. Between my breasts. On my inner thighs.
And my hand sped up.
"Okay, keep going. Don't stop, even when you feel like you're going to explode, just keep going."
I pulled a deep breath in as I battled with the beginnings of little flames of fatigue working their way into the muscles of my arm. My other hand wandered up to cup my right breast, and I was excited further by the feel of my own hard nipple pressing into my palm.
I thought of his eyes flashing desire at me. His voice whispering into my ear as he stroked his fingers right where I was pressing my own.
I started to play with my nipple, letting my hand sweep and dance across it before pinching it gently. I stifled a moan as I pinched it again, rolling it between my fingers, closing my eyes against the flood of sensation that I felt taking over my body.
I felt a brief surge of panic that it was working, that something inside me was building into a frenzy, that if I kept it up I was going to have an orgasm. My first orgasm. Right here. With Leah working herself into the same state just across the room from me. Her fingers wet with her own arousal, rubbing her tender, needy flesh just like I was. I recalled her legs illuminated through her thin nightshirt earlier, and I began climbing them with my eyes, imagining the muted pinks and soft hazelwood tan of her sex.
"What are you thinking of now?" Leah asked, and even though I had my eyes closed, I could tell from the pace of her breath that she was moving her hand pretty fast.
"Um, I don't know," I dodged. "What are you thinking of?"
"Your little …" she breathed.
My heart pounded.
" ... Panties."
I heard her exclaim, "Oh!" and whimper in short, tight bursts.
And that's when it happened.
I gasped and my hand froze between my legs as my thighs squeezed involuntarily, lifting my hips off the bed. It felt like everything between my bellybutton and my knees was contracting, tensing in deep rhythm, squeezing out honey sweet drops of pure sexual bliss that faded as they spread out from my center. As the ecstatic pulses started to slow down, I inhaled deeply, smiling, trying to memorize the feeling that was floating away from me as I glowed, still shaking with excitement.
I just fucking came.
I just fucking came thinking of Leah Clearwater, thinking of me.
I was right. She had taught me a new definition of the word "fun."
A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks also to E's My Brand of Heroin, eddiebell69, & EdwardsBloodType for cheerleading, WC help, inspiration, and not letting me give up.
Read all the wonderfully wanksome entries here:www(dot) fanfiction(dot)net/~spankthemonkey4u
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