Cramps

I woke up feeling like death. My head ached, my body was sore, my boobs felt tender to the touch. I could feel them stretch as I got out of bed, stretching my skin from the clavical down to my shoulder blades. It felt like a wire brush had raked my insides.

A shower helped a little bit. I stayed under the water too long, and crinkled my fingers. Washed my hair, and winced when it came time to wash my boobs. I remembered how to tie a towel, realized I was just going to my room, and went naked.

I put on a bra and it hurt, though I was gratefull for the support. It took the stretch off a little bit. I stared at my floor for several minutes, trying to decide if I felt bad enough to stay home from school. I was coming down with something terrible, and I might get someone sick. And staying home from school meant not going to school.

But I wanted to see Autumn. It was a Loft day, and there was tech later. I’d look like a loser if I showed up for tech and nothing else.

I grabbed a pair of pants, the ones I looked greatest in. If I was gonna feel like crap, I might as well look great.

Only I couldn’t get them over my thighs. Fucking growth spurt, that’s why I feel so bad. I threw them across the room in frustration, and picked up a looser pair, laying on the bed to put them on, and then just laying there some more.

Mom had done laundry yesterday, and I chose my least favorite shirt, it matched my least favorite way that I felt just then.

She found me downstairs, hunched over a bowl of Cinimon Toast Crunch. “I don’t know if I’m going to school.”

“You do look like hell warmed over. Do you have a temperature?” She checked my forhead. “Nope. You ditched a class yesterday, that’s your one a month.”

“When did we make that rule?”

“I made it. And just now.”

“Fine,” I checked my phone. One text from Autumn, an emoji of a speeding car. I didn’t text her back. The PSAs on texting and driving had had just as big an effect as the ones on seat belts. Instead I found a coffee and waited for her on the porch swing.

When Bruce pulled up, I slumped inside. Autumn cast me a glance, “You okay?”

“I think I’m coming down with something.”

She reached out and squeezed my arm, and I came in for a kiss on the forehead, “Poor luvvey. I can make you feel better.”

“Not that it doesn’t excite me, but right now I’d rather die.”

“Well we have to take a break anyway.” She got onto the highway, “Yesterday was great, by the way.”

I smiled at the memory, moved, and hit my breast with my arm. Are these things always going to hurt? They were my favorite and least favorite body part at the same time.

We listened to more Dr. Steel on the way, and heard the cover of the Inspector Gadget theme, and Land of the Lost.

I walked into ‘Health’ wanting to die.

Big Davey and I climbed the ladder into the Loft. He went first and I found myself idly watching to see if I could see the reason for his name as he went up the rungs. He has a nice ass in any case. I’d never thought of guys having a nice ass. What the hell was nice about it.

After my talk with mom, I was no less confused. But I wasn’t stamping on my confused feelings. Rule no.1 was being eroded as I wondered if I was bi-sexual, and what it would mean if I was. It was a lot cooler to be a bi girl than a bi guy. But I could remember the way Autumns titty tasted in my mouth. So I was surely gay at least.

Inside the loft I made my way to the couch, and gave up a little piece of my mind for some comfort. Bree and Big Davey had each claimed a side and I sat in between them, collapsing onto the cushions. Big Davey reached over and rubbed the sweet spot on my back, and I killed myself by laying my head in his lap.

“I think Aisling is out of commission,” he said.

I felt small there. Small but comfortable. This was the Loft. I could be myself here. Whoever that was. I put my feet on Bree’s lap, and she started. Then she unlaced my boots and put them on the floor, cuddling my feet.

I faded out for a moment.

I faded in, and my first thought was that I was late for class. But everyone else was still in the loft, so it must be fine.

Bree had shifted onto the circle in the floor, so my legs were free. They were playing Munchkin, but everyone still had clothes on, and the atmosphere wasn’t one of naked arousal. I imagined for a moment that it was because I was feeling so poorly, and then remembered that we were all taking a bit of a break. You can’t just orgy all the time, I guess.

I snuggled into Big Davey’s jeans, trying to worm my way back to sleep and felt something.

It was soft and hard at the same time, and it was his dick, and yeah it was big.

And a wave or red hot arousal shot through me. All I could think about was his dick. His big dick. His big dick that was next to my head. I could—no.

My nipples were rock hard, and I was… okay with… some thoughts that I might have. And while I was okay with them, I found myself thinking about relaxing my back into Autumn’s breasts at she fingered my clit. I shifted my legs and felt my wet panties, and got hotter, knowing how hot I was.

My mind went from fingers to tongue. I had tasted pussy. I had felt a tongue on my nipple. I could just imagine what it would feel like on my clit. What Autumn would look like, as I watched her stripy hair between my legs and felt her tongue where her fingers had worked so dexterously.

Shit, I need some kind of relief. This was like regular teenager horniness cranked up to another level. The first time I ever masturbated it was because I had been driven into a frenzy late at night. I had had to do something—anything—to relieve the pressure.

This was only a step below that. Autumn was up here, and for a moment I thought of just dragging her onto my lap, getting her head in my crotch, and satisfying the feelings that were burning up my body. My aches and pains had morphed into full body horniness. But they were still aches and pains, and I didn’t want to get off of the couch. And besides, look at what I was doing to Big Davey.

I nuzzled him again, perverse in my innocence of action. At the same time I wormed a hand between my legs. I was asleep, I was getting comfortable, it was natural. Oh. I’ve wet through my jeans. There was a dollop the size of a silver dollar down there. I opened an eye again, no one was watching me, ‘cept maybe Big Davey. I strained my hips against my hand, felt it rub me right, and take the edge off of what I was feeling. Time to stop that now, Aisling, or you’ll never stop again. I did it a few more times anyway.

Big Davey surely noticed. I felt his erection go from around a seven to a ten. Man, something about that felt good. He was just looking at my body and getting aroused. It made me feel powerful, and soft somehow.

I rolled over to meet his eyes looking down at me, and said kittenishly, “My, is that from me?”

He gave me a slow nod, and a saucy grin. Before I could think about it I felt my hand reaching up to where he cock had build a tent in his jeans. What the hell are you doing, Ash?

And before I could do something that I’d have to have a long talk with my shrink about, the bell rang for 7th period.

“So, Aisling, are you all caught up?”

I was sitting in English, and I wasn’t used to the attention. The seats were in a rough circle, no seating assignments, no attendence. You either came to the class and passed, or you didn’t and you didn’t. AP English, I had quickly learned, was about discussion. There were no worksheets, there were no tests. You read the work, came up with a perspective, and ground an essay out of your mind. Or you failed the class.

I was feeling like shit in a microwave and Mr. Markle put me on the spot.

Everyone in the class turned to look at me. I felt stupid.

Then I looked around at their faces, as I tried to prepare my thoughts. No one was looking at me with anything other than respect and curiosity; and a modicum of boredom. That gave me a little boost of confidence. Everyone was waiting to hear what I had to say.

I crossed my legs (at the knee). I did it out of nervousness, but: Everyone thinks you did it deliberately, Aisling. “Yeah, I’m with you guys on book six.”

“What did you think of the first books, fill us in on your thoughts.”

I played with a pencil a little. Aisling you had thoughts all the time that you read this, and he wants to hear them. “It’s interesting that the first time we see Odysseus is near the end of his story. Homer borrowed from Quentin Tarrantino and started his story at the end, Pulp Fiction style.”

A few laughed. Most must not have seen the movie.

“Interesting,” said Mr. Markle, “Do you suppose he’ll ask one of the suitors for his wallet back and let them all go?”

Someone whose name I didn’t know spoke up, “‘My armor is the one that says Bad Motherfucker on it.’”

That got a bigger laugh, and I stiffled a smile, trying to stay concsious.

“What else leapt out at you?”

“Well Homer opens up with Odysseus crying. He’s just weeping there. Seems kinda…” I shrugged.

Another boy interpreted my pause to search for words as a chance to break in. He was well-dressed, was trying to cultivate a goatee, and I didn’t like him at all. “Well for the ancient Greeks there was nothing wrong with crying. He’s just expressing himself. That kind of feeling was manly for them.”

“Sure,” a girl countered, “but he’s not doing anything. He’s just whining until someone shows up and helps him make a ship. He doesn’t have any free agency.”

“He’s passive,” I said.

“But nothing he’s done has gotten him anywhere,” Mr. Markle said. “He’s been trying to get home for twenty years at this point and nothing has helped. After all this time, maybe he just wants to cry about it.”

“He’s While E. Coyote,” I muttered, unconcerned if anyone heard me, and knowing they wouldn’t understand if they did.

Mr. Markle heard me. “What do you mean?”

I was on the spot again, but it was something easy to speak about, “Chuck Jones said in and interview that he always viewed the coyote as a figure of Greek myth. ‘Riling against the gods,’ he said. I mean, the coyote goes to extreme lengths trying to find something that will work, and he’s cursed to fail every time—”

“How do you think you would feel if the first time you saw the coyote he was crying?” That Kid cut me off.

“Well,” the girl spoke up. She would be pretty, once all her acne scars healed, “I’d think it was kind of a shit way to introduce a character.”

“What did you think of what we read this week? Does anyone want to start? Odysseus washes onto shore, and Athena has sent some women to wash their clothes in the river that runs into the sea, so they can find him. Then what?”

“Well again,” the girl said (It looked like she and the boy were the largest contributers, not a good number in a class of twelve.), “No one has any free agency. The women don’t just find him. They’re sent to find him, and they have to be tricked to do it. Odysseus doesn’t search for anyone, they just find him—”

“But that’s how the Greeks saw the world,” That Kid interrupted her this time. “Everything was caused by the gods, there was no chance. Anyone you met could be a god in disguise.”

“No,” I told That Kid, “That’s how Homer told them they should see the world. He didn’t want to give any of his characters free will, because that’s too hard.”

“Was it too hard?” Mr. Markle said, “Or had the idea of a character with free agency not been invented. Did Homer understand that his character should take positive action.”

The discussion went on like that. And That Kid kept interrupting me. Around five minutes till the end of class, and maybe the dozenth time he cut me off, the discussion went like this.

“Odysseus didn’t want to compete until someone goaded him—”

“But he has to remain in disguise—”

I slammed my book into my desk, everything he’d said just making me more livid. "I. Am. Talking.”

“Okay, dude, don’t be mad.” Something about that just made me more angry. Like being mad was my fault, not something he had caused.

I searched for something to throw at him, while Mr. Markle diffused the situation, “Next time let’s give everyone a chance to speak. Books seven and eight by Monday.”

As I got up to leave That Kid stood… not in my way, but clearly trying to talk to me. I don’t know what he wanted to say, but it started with, “You shouldn’t—” I didn’t hear the rest, because I turned my shoulder and walked around him.