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Bret.
Betty realized she had never known true hatred before she met Bret.
For someone only in her senior year of high school Betty had done her fair share of living, and that was putting it somewhat mildly. Teenage girls weren’t supposed to already have accumulated a lifetime’s worth of trauma before they’d even tossed their graduation caps. Betty had enemies. Had crossed paths with criminals and murderers and psychopaths. Had struggled with her anger, darkness that came from within and without. But there was something about the way Bret made her feel that seemed more real than so much of what she’d been through.
Bret. Bret. Bret!
When she saw him she felt visceral loathing. For his smug fucking face and his rich prep school arrogance and his repellant personality. She hated all of it. And more than that she hated how much she didn’t hate it. Something about him was always drawing her into his orbit. She felt attraction.
The number of times she’d relived the satisfaction of braining Bret unconscious with that golf club or besting him at the quiz show finals was obsessive, and she couldn’t honestly say which memory made her feel greater satisfaction. Him and his fucking rough voice and his casual elitist condescension and the way he turned her thoroughly inside out. She wanted to punish him. Or, maybe she wanted to be punished by him. Was there a world in which those desires weren’t mutually exclusive?
Her fixation had reached a fever pitch the last time she’d been up to visit Jug at Stonewall. Both boys had had to get up for some secret hush hush Baxter Brothers meeting which meant that Betty got to sleep in and awoke with the room all to herself. Lying there, basking in late morning sunshine, she stretched and luxuriated, eventually allowing her simmering desire to take over. Hands groping her breasts, slipping between her legs as she rolled onto her side – where all she could focus on was Bret’s rumpled sheets.
Without even thinking about it she was up and moving to his bed. Then she was on her knees in the middle of the mattress, his pillow imprisoned between her thighs as she ground herself against it. Nipples tight and aching so much that even the fabric of her thin camisole gave them welcome stimulation. She felt incandescent with lust. Her pace started slow, measured, but before long her movements became frantic. Her cunt dripping, soaking her underwear so that she’d leave a stain on his pillowcase.
It was with that obscene thought in mind that she raced toward climax. She hauled up the waistband of her panties, wedging the taut fabric of the gusset against herself, flossing it desperately over her clit.
Bret Bret Bret
Betty was cumming in an instant, fucking Bret’s pillow until her rhythm faltered and she was doubling over, orgasming with a silent scream. Even after bonelessly collapsing on the duvet spasms continued to wrack her body. It wasn’t until she heard a noise in the corridor that she realized either boy could return to their dorm any minute and she sprung up to clear her head with a much-needed shower.
It had been a month or more since that visit. Betty considered that morning to be one of her lowest lows. Indulging in unbridled sexual depravity was one thing, but it was the Bret of it all that twisted her up in knots. Unfortunately that hardly stopped her from compulsively revisiting it, speculating about why she’d never made herself cum harder in her life. Thinking about it as she tried to replicate the feeling when she touched herself in her own bed.
As she approached Jug and Bret’s dorm she determined to put the whole thing out of mind. Bury it deep, create a new compartmentalisation annex way back there next to all of the other fucked up shit she already had to actively avoid thinking about every day of her life.
When she opened their door however, the scene that she was met with sent all that out the window.
Bret was currently slung low in the chair of his desk, buck naked and glistening with perspiration as he worked one hand over a purpling erection, laptop open to a video that was playing (mercifully) without sound.
“Do you mind?” Betty asked, eyes going meaningfully wide as she struggled to remain unaffected by what she’d walked in on, continuing into the room with performed disinterest.
“Not at all Ponytail, you do whatever you need to,” Bret replied without missing a beat, swiveling his chair away from the desk so that he was entirely on display to her, unmoving. Betty gave him a hard stare, keeping her eyes locked on his to prove that she was unwilling to indulge him.
“I thought you were the man with the world’s greatest imagination, what do you need to watch porn for?” Betty asked dismissively, struggling to pretend that his masturbation bored her as she turned away to toss her duffel bag onto Jughead’s bed, feigning casual. Throat dry as a bone.
“Well, detective stories are one thing.” Betty heard the slick friction indicating the exact instant he resumed stroking the length of his cock and kept her back to him, looking into her purse with unseeing eyes. “But everyone likes a little visual aide every once in a while Cooper,” he said, managing to keep the waver in his voice to a minimum until he pronounced her name with a choked off groan. “Besides, I’ve never found a video this good.”
Afterward Betty was never sure what it was that made her walk brusquely over to the desk to see what was on Bret’s screen. Whether to keep up her aloof pretense, pure morbid curiosity, or because she was already committed to where this was going, nothing could have prepared her to look down at his laptop and see herself. And not a video of her camming. Her writhing and moaning in his bed, for closer to the desk she discovered that the video was not playing on silent as she’d initially thought and she could now hear the escalation of her ecstasy pouring out through the speakers.
Betty was livid. Of course this pig had a camera set up in his room. She was just turning to express her thoughts on the matter when he directed her attention back to the video.
“This is my favourite part,” his voice came out husky and strained, reaching forward to max out the volume.
She gasped in mortification as the footage kept playing. Just as she was in the throes of her little death she’d said his name out loud. Her core clenched involuntarily.
Bret Bret Bret!
He let out a guttural moan drawing her attention to the fact that he’d choked down tight on the base of his cock to keep from cumming, breathing almost as hard as if he had.
Bret observed Betty hungrily as she finally allowed herself to take in every inch of him. The broad expanse of his chest, all of him toned from playing football, massive thighs spread wide. And as for his cock: it was fucking enormous. Precum blurted from the tip, shaft flexing under her scrutiny. She wanted to cram the whole thing into her throat. She wanted to drop to her knees and slurp at the sweat pooled beneath his balls on the leather. She wanted to sit in his lap stuffed full, milking him internally without appearing to move at all.
But she didn’t do any of those things. Instead she said, “You make recordings with a secret camera in your fucking room?”
“What can I say? Sometimes I like to indulge in a little post-game review.”
“You’re a real piece of shit Bret, you know that? Fucking narcissist.”
“Keep talking dirty to me like that Cooper and I’m not gonna last for you.”
Betty felt herself growing breathless as she decided what to do. But she’d already decided. She’d decided the moment she’d come into the room. Maybe she’d decided the moment she met him.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
She thought he’d pounce on her like a rabid dog the instant those words left her lips. Instead he stood up, stepped into her space slow and deliberate, and carefully pulled the elastic out of her hair, slipping it onto his wrist where it bit into the skin. Then he held her face still with both hands and licked a broad stripe up one side of her throat from collar to jaw. The sensation made her shiver pleasantly, keening into his touch.
Then he tugged her sweater up over her head. Undid her blouse and let it slip from her shoulders. Unhooked her bra with one deft motion as he unbuttoned her jeans with the other hand. Before she knew it she was just as naked as he was, standing before him, waiting, wanting him to touch her.
Bret manoeuvered her backward until her calves hit his bed, she sat, leaning her weight onto her elbows, eyes transfixed on him. He sunk to his knees between her legs, kissing his way up from her feet and talking as he went.
“Do you know how many times I’ve watched that video of you Cooper?”
Betty shook her head but she wasn’t sure he required a response. He huffed a breath against the turn of her ankle.
“I can’t stop watching it. That day, that afternoon, when I came back and watched it for the first time? It made me cum in my pants.”
Betty closed her eyes as he continued to pull her apart.
“And do you know what I did then Ponytail? After I watched that video of you in my bed? Rubbing one out on my pillow, crying my name as you came?”
Betty bit her tongue hard to keep quiet, to not moan obscenely at his skillful ministrations or let him know what his words were doing to her. Apparently this last wasn’t rhetorical and he pressed his teeth gently into the meat of her calf to get her attention.
“Do you know? What I did?”
Betty shook her head, eyes glassy with pleasure.
“That evening, when you and Forsythe headed out for one of your all night walkabouts, I helped myself to a little present from your bag.” Bret’s voice had lowered to a whisper, but Betty was hanging on every word, finally letting out a desperate sound when she realized what he was going to say next. He worked in silence after that, drinking in her aborted little cries as he nipped and licked his way up to his final destination. Then he splayed her legs wide, draping them over his shoulders, breath ghosting over her wet pussy.
“Bret,” his name came out a plaintive gasp.
He couldn’t stifle a smug smile that momentarily brought Betty back to her senses, had her trying to smother him between her thighs, but he held her open with an iron grip and when she relented he smoothed his hands back and forth up her flanks, thumbs managing to just graze the underside of her breasts on each pass.
“I went rummaging through your bag until I found your panties. The one’s you’d been wearing earlier that day. In my bed. And do you know what? They were still damp and slick with the scent of you.”
Betty’s hips bucked involuntarily. Until he’d brought it up, she’d completely forgotten about going home that visit to find herself short a pair of underwear, had chalked it up to a laundry loss. She attempted to snake one hand down to her clit but Bret gave it a sharp slap.
“Do you know how exquisite you smell Cooper? I buried my face in that scrap of fabric and stripped myself raw to the thought of you. I forced orgasm after orgasm until I was cumming dry.”
Betty jerked her hips again in an attempt to force Bret’s face where she wanted it, tears of frustration welling at the corners of her eyes.
“Beg for it Betty.” There he was. Malicious, vindictive prick. But Betty didn’t even hesitate.
“Please Bret please! Please please please, make me cum. Need it so bad! Can’t stop thinking about you…” Now Betty was in the midst of a euphoric crying jag in earnest, tears steadily streaming down her cheeks. “Please! Use that good-for-nothing mouth of yours to contribute something positive for once.”
He took one last intoxicating inhale and then pressed against her, smothering himself as he suckled her clit, licking across her swollen labia, lapping at her juices as he speared his tongue into her entrance. Betty wrapped an anchoring hand around the back of Bret’s skull, fingers tangling in his hair so that she could grind herself on his insufferable face. She imagined that she could just make out the scar from the three stitches she’d given him.
Bret seemed to redouble his efforts. He latched onto her clitoris, spitting on it and rolling it between his fingertips, licking his way from the stiff nub all the way down to her asshole. As soon as he slid two insistent fingers inside her she came with a grateful cry, trembling body falling back upon the mattress as she gasped for air. Bret got to his feet, face still shining with her juices, cleaning her from his fingers and chin with a reverent expression.
“What now?”
Betty glanced at his unflagging erection then returned her attention to his face with a pointed look, subtly spreading her legs and shifting her hips.
Bret could take a hint, and this time when he levelled his cocky smile her way the requisite eye-roll he received was only half-hearted. He positioned himself within the cradle of her hips. When he dragged his tip through her folds he knew he didn’t have the willpower to hold himself back any longer and began to work himself into her, maintaining a steady pace as he thrust deeper and deeper. Betty could feel his fingers flexing in restraint against her hipbones as he drew her closer, a bruising pulse that made her back arch.
“Is it everything you hoped it’d be Ponytail?”
She replied to his goading by locking her ankles at his lower back and forcing him in to the hilt on his next thrust. The wounded, animal sound he made brought a spiteful smile to her lips. When he glared down at her she mouthed ‘I hate you’ with exaggerated, unmistakable clarity.
The next thing she knew Bret had hoisted her off the bed like a ragdoll, her arms wrapping instinctively around his shoulders at suddenly finding herself airborne, a pitiful whimper escaping her as their reoriented gravity forced him impossibly deeper. When he slammed her against the wall she was surprised not to feel her head crack back to meet unforgiving drywall, instead registering the cushioning presence of Bret’s hand. He plastered his whole torso to hers, using the full weight of his body to keep her pinned in place. His hands felt big as shovels, easily curbing her movement from where they were splayed beneath her seat.
“I said,” tone low and dangerous, “is it everything you hoped it would be?” As he spoke he dragged himself out of her with agonizing slowness before slamming home. Again and again and again and again. Relentless as a machine. Holding his face inches from hers so he could fully catalogue every delicious stage of her crumbling composure.
Initially she refused to give him the satisfaction, using her anger to stave off her gratification. But after only a few seconds she surrendered. The way he was fucking her felt so perfect she stopped caring why she shouldn’t let him. That he was just the worst. That she hated him. She ran her fingers through his hair, clawed at his unforgiving shoulder with her other hand, and gave him a practically imperceptible nod.
This time when she rolled her hips to meet him he didn’t stop her and their coupling reached a new symbiosis, becoming more desperate as they both chased orgasm.
“Bret… you feel so fucking good,” Betty’s choked out confession barely a whisper as he pounded her so roughly even her bones seemed to reverberate with it.
“I’m close Cooper,” Bret said not long after, the inherent question in his words hanging unspoken. Her response was instantaneous.
“Don’t stop,” she said, locking her ankles again, digging her heels into him with a challenging smirk. He clenched his jaw, but found himself unable to keep a crooked smile off his face as he took the bait. Barely breaking rhythm he adjusted his grip, and then she felt a new sensation; his fingers at her asshole, keeping a steady pressure that immediately had her on the edge.
“Are you gonna cum for me Betty?” Bret husked into her ear as her moaning began escalating once more.
“Please, please make me cum! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Bret! Bret! Bret!” The pleas growing increasingly incoherent until she was just chanting his name.
“Come on Ponytail, beat me at something where I don’t mind coming in second for once.”
That was all it took. With a tortured groan her body seized up in a paroxysm of pleasure, eyes rolling back as she tipped over the precipice, clinging desperately to Bret, tightening around him like a vice. Then with an answering roar he was cumming too, emptying himself into her for what felt like forever. Until they were both more than spent.
“Fuck!”
Coming down from the high of their earth-shatteringly spectacular sex, Bret staggered them over to his bed and tumbled them unceremoniously onto it like two felled trees. They lay side by side on their backs, staring at the ceiling clammy and limp, waiting for their racing hearts to calm and floating happily in a shared post-coital glow. Betty registered a perverse thrill at the feeling of his semen leaking out of her, their combined fluids pooling beneath her on his sheets. She was going to feel the ache of him for days.
It was surprising to find that she liked the feeling of their arms pressed up against each other. The solid, silent weight of him next to her. She hadn’t thought it possible for them to experience harmony. And she certainly hadn’t thought their animosity a problem that they could fuck away. Even temporarily.
“Bret?” With one word the spell was broken. Bret licked his lips breathlessly before answering, enjoying the sharp tang of salt on his skin.
“Yeah yeah don’t worry Cooper, I hate you too.”
When she turned her head to glare at him he was already looking at her wearing a self-satisfied smile that she found she didn’t hate quite so much after all.