The Double Date That Didn't End, Ch 8 - Sex Stories

The Double Date That Didn't End, Ch 8

... really had to do was climb over a little fence. Actually getting to the ice skates however, was a different story. They were locked up inside a cage, but Connor did a trick with one of my hairpins and managed to get it open. "Where did you learn to do that?" I asked. "When I was a teenager I was kind of a piece of shit," he answered. I laughed, feigning outrage. "You're telling me that my hunky policeman best friend has a secret criminal past?" "Technically, yes. Though I wouldn't call my teenage self a 'criminal' so much as an 'obnoxious little twat.'" "Fascinating. You were the Judd Nelson type, then?" "Pshh, I wish. How about you? You I bet you were like a Latina Molly Ringwald. Queen bee cheerleading captain and all that." "I was more of a Michael Hall, actually. Four straight years of four-point-ohs, motherfucker!" "No way." "Oh yeah. Nerd-queen late bloomer. Guys didn't even realize I had tits until I started working at Hooters in college. Tracy gave me a pretty serious makeover, god bless her." "No cheerleading then?" "'Fraid not." "Damn!" he cursed. "So much for my million zillion fantasies of you in a pleated miniskirt waving your pompoms." "Hey, play your cards right and next Halloween I'll dress up as a cheerleader. A slutty cheerleader." Connor handed me a pair of skates in my size and we tiptoed out onto the ice rink--stumbling and staggering like a couple of toddlers learning to walk. Connor held onto the wall, I held onto Connor, and together we made a few ...

... awkward laps around the circumference. "Okay, what do you say next time we really go for it?" Connor asked. "All the way around the rink, no holding onto the wall. First one across the finish line wins." "Wins what?" I asked. "Respect?" "Lame. How about the loser has to do something. Like a dare. Anything the winner wants, no chickening out." "Oh, you're gonna regret saying that," he teased. "You're assuming one of us actually makes it all the way around without slipping on the ice and shattering our pelvis." Laughing, he and I took exaggerated starting positions for our little race, trying our best not to fall over before we’d even begun. "Ready?" Connor asked. "Set!" I answered. "Go!" we both shouted together, and took off as fast as we could go-- Which for me was probably about two miles per hour, if you factored in all the stumbling and slipping. Connor got a huge lead early on, but he built up so much momentum around the first turn that-- "Whoa!!!" --He lost control and hit the wall like a cannonball, cracking the wood on impact. "Connor!" He lay motionless on his back. I hobbled across the ice towards him with all the speed I could muster-- Then I tripped over my own dumb feet and landed knee-first on his crotch. "Jesus Christ!" he groaned, immediately pushing me aside. "I'm so sorry, I--" "Breaking and entering, crashing into a wall, kneed in the balls... This is turning out to be about the sexiest date ever, isn't it?" Connor joked. I was just glad that he was okay. Our ...