I'm a be on the next level

I'm a be rockin' over that bass treble

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mfing princess
She dialed quickly.

If she was going to, well, date Adam, she was going to have to say things. Things she wasn't used to saying. Things that, with any other guy, might be understood. But things that, with any other guy, probably wouldn't need to be addressed in the first place.

And who knew when Adam was going to ask. It's not like he was... proactive. Flirty? Yes. Forward? Hell yes. Interested in making the first move?


Which is why Bianca was hitting send.

She didn't waste a second. When she heard Adam say hello, she hit him full force.

"Look. If we ever have sex, and that's a big if because I'm pretty sure it's something we need to talk about first, I just want to let you know that I'm... creative and shit. And I'm opening the door for conversation. And. You... aren't saying anything, so. I'm gonna hang up right after this, but I just wanted to say that if we did, I would want you to... um. Wear something. And fuck me. And I would." She could see herself in her bedroom mirror. She was bright red. She hadn't blushed at something sexual in years. "Suck you off. And." Her voice got quieter, sharing a secret. "You wouldn't have to wrap. Unless you wanted to."

She paused, feeling slightly dizzy.


She hung up, and immediately regretted it, because the silence in her room after hearing him breathe was suffocating.

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"...Stop comparing yourself to everybody else, you're not a learning tool and you're not just anyone."

Stubborn about that. It's important.

"No. No, I really haven't."

Way to reference something we haven't quite played yet

"Fine. I'm one in a million, and yours are the only lips that will make me moan like that ever again." A little sarcasm to make her point. Even if it kind of sucks, even to say.

She sighs. "I'm sorry. I don't mean that."

"Just tell me, instead, what would be a bad idea. I see you look worried sometimes, like I'm about to do something wrong. And I might fuck things up if you don't tell me."

He is going to ignore that.

"When you get to that point, where it's more obvious I'm not - what I'm supposed to be, it. I just feel awkward. It's not because of you."

"If - it - happens, I probably won't unwrap. I'm just not comfortable with the... overtly feminine things. About myself."

"Does that make sense?"

Okay, this is weird, because for the first time? "Yeah, it does."

It actually helps, a little, on some level, that it isn't about her. She should feel guilty. Should work harder to help him. Shouldn't she?

She licks her lips, pretty positive that it's the truth. "I like whatever you like."


No, no, she should not feel guilty. She's giving him a chance - or the time of day, or however you want to say it. That's so much.

This is easier. "I like you. I like the look you get on your face when you tell me to stop looking at you, or to stop flirting with you. I like the way you talk about defiling me. I really, really, really like the way you said you want me to... fuck you, even with it being a 'maybe at some point in the future if.'"

It is... definitely getting hot in her room. She opens a window.

Doesn't help.

"Yeah, well. I. Um. Have homework."

"And you're actually going to go do it?"

"I'm probably going to have a drink and. Touch myself."

Oh, god. "That is- fantastic."

Really, really hot in here.

"Have you done your homework?"

Rustling for a moment, because her shirt has got to come off.

She drags her fingers from belly to breast.

"Gonna finish?"

"Yes." He's wondering if they're actually talking about homework.


Stretches out on the bed, still not feeling any relief. She presses her legs together.

"Tell me what you're doing, Adam."

"I'm-" Exhales. "I've got my hand down my pants."

Just now, but. It counts.

She releases a rough breath.

It should be so easy just to say "I'm so wet for you, baby!" Just to text him some sexy pics.

It's different when she cares.

Really different.

Her voice sounds different, hazy. "My nipples are hard. I'm not even touching them."

That spark hits between her legs again, and she moans, the sound hitting a sharper note as she runs her hand over her nipple, pinching lightly, flicking it.

"I wish you were here," is the closest she can come to articulating how she feels. The rush at her thighs not beginning to cover it.

"Me too." Oh, does he ever.

"Today was a good day."

Undoing her pants. Because if she waits any longer, she's going to explode.

"Today was a great day."

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