Whisky And Cartoons - Sex Stories

Whisky And Cartoons

... wouldn’t.” “But I’ve never told on you before.” “That’s because you didn’t have anything to brag about. Once a guy has sex with you, he’s gotta tell the whole, fucking world, like he just stepped on the moon.” For an instant Margie looks like she wants to hit me again, as if I am Danny. I turn on the couch, sliding out on her leg until I can play with a large red button on her pajama top. I can see her belly button sometimes when she moves. She watches as I twist her button, then she pulls at a button on my pajamas. “Why didn’t you ever tell on me, for smoking and stuff?” “You’re my favorite sitter.” Margie is surprised. “What about Cindy Parlee? The boys all love her.” “All she does is homework.” “Not my problem, is it? Do you lay in her lap the whole time?” I shake my head. “She doesn’t like cartoons, either.” “Afraid she might crack a smile,” Margie says. She leaves the button and rakes her fingers through my hair. She pulls on it until it almost hurts, then pushes her fingers through as if she is brushing to get me ready for school. She looks at me like my dad does sometimes, not sure if I am something she wants to keep or throw away. “Can we kiss again?” I hold my hands like I’m praying. “I thought kissing me didn’t turn you on?” “I liked it, though.” “My, my, a boy who likes to kiss,” she grasps my hands, “doesn’t ask me to suck his dick, and promises to suck on me as long as I want. I wish they were all like you.” The way she says this warms my face, and I smile. “All ...

... right, you can have another kiss, for not telling on me.” “Only without the whiskey,” I say. “I think it would feel better without the whiskey.” “No, with the whiskey. The whiskey complicates it, only in a good way.” She pulls me up by my hand, swings her legs behind me, stretches out against the back of the couch, then pulls me in next to her again. Margie arranges me like a doll, moving my arms, pulling my one leg over hers, and telling me just what to do. It is so strange to be this close to someone, with my whole body touching hers. I dip my finger in the bottle this time and smear her lips. My second kiss is better than the first, even with the whiskey, because her warmth is everywhere, so much so that I feel sticky. All the kissing and touching feels good, but I don’t understand why she wants to do it for so long. She did it for a long time with Danny, too, so it must be right. She bats her long eyelashes on my cheek and calls them butterfly kisses. She bites my ear and blows until it sounds like my dad’s welding torch, and nearly as hot. She sucks on my neck, but stops so she won’t “give me a hickey.” When she tells me to practice on her, I try hard to be good at it because it means more when someone who is usually mad thinks you’re doing a good job. When she slides her tongue inside my mouth, I almost choke, and she laughs. “Imagine what it’s like to have a dick in there,” she says. I try to imagine sucking a dick, then Margie sucking my dick. This makes me wonder if ...