Radio Flyer—Chapter Two
He walked back to the bed.
“Jessica, can you hear me?”
She nodded.
“Answer me out loud. Okay?”
“Yes,” she said in a wane voice. “I hear you.”
He bit his lip. “Stand up.”
She pulled out her legs sinuously, planted her bare feet on the floor and stood. She was exactly Billy’s height, eye level with him—though her eyes were still glued to the blue LEDs.
“Umm, take two steps forward.”
She obeyed—left foot, right. Billy walked around her slowly, admiring her body. Her breasts were generously portioned, but not oversized; her waist thin enough to encircle with his hands. A butterfly tattoo peeked over her jeans at the small of her back.
Her ass looked round and firm; he put his hand on it, tentatively at first, then squeezed it through the denim. She didn’t react. He tickled the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She continued staring at the light, her head cocked, her lips parted.
“Let down your hair,” he commanded, his voice a rasp.
Jessica reached languidly behind her head and tugged at the scrunchy holding her blonde locks in a ponytail, let it slip out of her fingers to the floor. Her nails, he noticed, were painted a pale pink. She shook her hair free.
Billy moved in front of her, blocking her view of the invention. She blinked and a frown crossed her pretty face. He thought for a moment she would come out of her trance, but the room was still full of the reflected blue light. There was no escaping it. Her eyes refocused through him at nothing, but she was not roused. He was close enough to feel her breath,
“Who am I?” said Billy.
“You’re ... Amy’s brother,” she said distantly.
“What’s my name?”
She seemed to ponder that for a moment, then answered, “Billy.”
Well, that was something. “Jessica? How would you like to be my girlfriend?”
She shook her head, sending waves through her shoulder length hair. “I—I have a boyfriend,” she protested.
“What’s his name?”
“Roger.”
“Roger what?”
“Roger Johansson,” she said.
“What? That asshole?” Roger Johansson had been a plague on Billy’s elementary school years. Several grades older and twice Billy’s size, Johansson had made it his personal mission to terrorize the younger student, making him the butt of every mean joke and act of bullying his tiny, cruel mind could conceive of.
“He’s not an asshole,” Jessica said, still focused on an unseen horizon, her face bathed in the reflected blue light. “He’s sweet. I love him.”
“He is an asshole,” Billy said. “You don’t love him.”
“B-but, I do,” she said.
Billy set his jaw. “You don’t love him. You hate him.”
“I—I love him,” she said, a trace of uncertainty creeping into her voice.
“You love me,” said Billy.
“Nonononono.” Jessica squinted, tilted her head and shook it slowly, as if fighting off the thought. “I love Roger. He—he’s my boyfriend.”
“Look at me.”
She didn’t stop shaking her head, but her eyes focused on Billy’s.
“You’re in love with me.”
“Nononononono,” she whispered, trembling, tears swelling.
“You’re madly in love with me. I’m the only one you want. You think about me all the time.”
“Nonononononononono,” a tear fell down her right cheek.
“You’re hopelessly in love with me. You want to have sex with me. Being near me makes you,” he gulped, “horny. Very horny.”
“No. I—I love Roger,” she said, but it was sounding more like a question now.
“You hate Roger. He’s a stupid asshole and a bully. You hate him.”
“I—I ...”
“You hate Roger.”
Jessica’s head-shaking slowed, then stopped. Her gaze darted back and forth between Billy’s eyes, as though looking for something. “I hate Roger,” she finally said in a far away little girl’s voice.
“He’s an asshole.”
“I hate him,” she said.
“That’s right, you hate him. You love me.”
“I ... I love you,” she said.
“You’re madly, hopelessly in love with me,” said Billy. “You want to have sex with me.”
“I want to have sex with you,” she said. “I’m madly in love with you.”
Billy was hard as a rock. He walked awkwardly back to Amy’s desk and downed the rest of the soda, then returned to Jessica. “Take off your clothes.”
She complied without hesitation: first pulling her shirt off over her head, and dropping it to the floor, revealing a black bra. She reached behind her back and unhooked the bra, pulled it off her shoulders and tossed it away casually. Her movements were unhurried.
Billy’s breath caught in his throat as he admired Jessica’s flat stomach and her flawless breasts. There was a freckle above one of her pink nipples.
She reached down to her jeans, unbuttoned them with both hands, then peeled them off her long legs one at a time. She was wearing frilly black panties underneath: she crouched to slide them to her feet, then stepped out of them, naked as the day she was born.
Billy stared, awestruck. Her body was more spectacular than he’d imagined. Athletic and perfectly proportioned, her tits were round, her hips shapely. Her pubic hair was trimmed into a neat, blonde V.
Jessica’s gaze had once again locked onto the device. Billy stepped behind her, between her and the bed. “Turn and look at me,” he said softly in her ear.
She obeyed slowly, turning her back to the wagon and facing Billy. He held her gaze, ran his hand down her naked arm and felt goose bumps.
“You’re cold?”
She nodded.
“You’re not cold. You’re perfectly comfortable,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m perfectly comfortable.” The goose bumps vanished.
“Tell me how you feel about me.”
“I’m in love with you,” she said. Then, again, with more feeling. “I—I’m in love you. I think about you all the time.”
Billy moved a stray strand of hair from her face. “Keep going.”
“I want to have sex with you,” she said, her breath quickening, her blue eyes taking on more life. She raised her arms and put them around Billy’s neck. “Being near you makes me so horny, I can’t stand it,” she breathed.
She kissed him, pressed her mouth against his, first tenderly, then with urgency and hunger. Her tongue pushed into his mouth. Her breath came loud and hot from her nose against Billy’s cheek. He smelled her perfume and her skin. She pulled him tighter to her, and let out a little whimper, then pulled away.
“This isn’t right,” she said, suddenly confused. “What am I doing?”
“Uh, you—you’re kissing me,” Billy said, at a loss. “You’re hopelessly in love with me.”
“But, but—,” she seemed to be trying to remember something. That she had a boyfriend whom she loved, perhaps. That Billy was her best friend’s dorky little brother, maybe.
“You’re madly in love with me,” he said again, with more conviction. “You want to ... you need to fuck me.”
“I ...”
“Say it.”
“I’m madly in love with you,” she said, the puzzlement fading from her features. “I’m madly in love with you. Yes ...” She pulled at his shirt, then ripped it over his head. “I need to fuck you,” she breathed. “Please, please fuck me. Fuck me fuck me fuck me.”
She dropped to her knees, pulled off his shoes, unclasped his belt and stripped off the rest of his clothes with such urgency that her life might have depended on getting Billy naked. She stood and reached for his glasses—he batted her arm away lightly and shook his head.
She threw her arms around him and pulled herself close, pressing her naked body against his and kissing him deeply, goggles and all. He reached back to her bare ass, caressed it, squeezed it and then pulled her hips into his. She grinded against his erection, and let out a needful moan in his mouth.
Abruptly, she pulled away again and stepped past Billy to clear the bed of her textbooks and papers in a single violent sweep of her arm. She pushed Billy back onto the mattress. In a flash she was on top of him, straddling him, her blue eyes glued to his. She lowered her head to kiss him again and her blonde hair fell onto his face—a clean, herbal smell—before she whipped it away and pushed her mouth against his. She was kissing him so hard it hurt.
Then her hands were on his dick, and he was inside her. She was wet and warm and tight. She squeezed him a couple times, leaned back, her eyes half-closed, moving up and down, breathing in heavy, shaky gasps.
Billy had dreamt of this a thousand times, and now it was happening. Trying to remember what he did in those dreams, he reached up and cupped Jessica’s breasts. He felt her nipples harden in his palms, and she let out a low, animal moan.
“Fuck me fuck me fuck me,” she groaned. “I love you I love you I love you.”
He felt an orgasm building and suspected his first sexual experience with another person was about to end prematurely. She was still pumping vigorously.
“Jessica,” he croaked. “You’re coming.”
“Ohhhh, ohhh, ohhh, aiiiiiiiggghhhh,” she shrieked. “Ohhh Godddddd!”
He exploded inside her, his moans joining hers in rapturous chorus.
Finally, she collapsed on top of him. She buried her head in the pillow, panting. Her face was shiny with perspiration, her hair knotted in sweaty tangles. After a time she caught her breath, moved her head to his chest and lay there, her eyes open and unfocused. Billy stroked the side of her face.
He sensed someone watching and leaned up from the mattress. Amy was standing at the door, drawn, he guessed, by Jessica’s screams. His sister was staring placidly into the blue light. From below, Jessica was murmuring in a near-whisper: “I love you. I love you. I love you ...”