sexstories.com


Introduction:

Sorry for those who thought there was something with Rose. I write using my fingers and hadn't thought the entire thing out so it was a shock to me as well. Hope you enjoy. And I hope I've fixed the troubles this time.
When Michael got home the clock ticked five eighteen. The house was completely empty, except for a note on the counter.

Mike,
Went to visit Aunt Marlow and your new cousin. Left in a bit of a hurry, should be home on Sunday. Hope you enjoy the weekend without the girls, I know how they aggravate you. Have fun but no parties please. I do expect you to be a little better than Dana…
Dad

He read the note absent-mindedly and went up to his room. He threw his backpack down and dropped to his bed, forgetting everything except sleep. That was the only thing he wanted. He passed out as the clock ticked off five twenty three.

The sound of the doorbell awoke a Michael gently cursing his self and whoever was at the door. Once he opened the door he groaned and scratched his eyes, desperately trying to wake up. Zoë something stood smiling sheepishly on the steps, her backpack over one shoulder and her math notebook clasped in one hand. She smiled when he opened the door though it quickly was replaced with a face of concern.
“Michael… sorry did I wake you up?? You didn’t show up, so I looked you up online and saw that story about… I’ll go. I’m sorry for bothering you!”

“No, no! Please, Zoë, stay. I’m sorry I just… had something happen after school and it wore me down pretty hard. Come in, I’ll grab my book bag and we can get started. You can stay right? ‘kay, I’ll be right back” He gestured for her to come inside as she started back down the steps. She stepped in a bit nervously. Kicking off her shoes on the tile entryway the two stepped into the large living room. The walls were painted white, all just pure white. The den was carpet, a thin gold that felt gentle under one’s feet. There were two couches and two love seats, all arranged around a flat screen TV mounted on a cabinet of stained cherry wood and a matching table within reach of all seats. Off of the den were the closed doors of Michael’s father’s office, and directly in front of the door through the den was the black tile of the kitchen. Separating the den and the kitchen was a bar of dark hard wood, with three bar lights dangling down from the ceiling. A pair of fans lazily spun above the gold carpet. Zoë kept herself from commenting on the luxury of the home as Michael escorted her into the den.
“I’m sorry about his place, it’s a bit big… here we can work on the table. I’ll just go up and get my bag… I’ll be right back I promise.” As he made his way slowly up the steps he remembered something else and turned.

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge, or a drink of water… anything you need.” With that he disappeared from view. Zoë dropped her bag on one of the sofas and gazed around. Her house was semi large, but had all cozy furniture. This place was like the home of a king, filled with things unused and unseen by the owner. She walked into the kitchen, wanting for a glass of water. When her feet touched the tile she shivered, the cold of the tile seeming exactly like the cold of the home. Zoë vaguely wondered how Michael could live here. She opened up a few cabinets and was once again greeted by the hollow face of luxury, china and wine glasses looking back at her from within their cabinets. The doors of the cabinets were all glass, allowing her see somewhat inside. Opening one she found the exact opposite of everything she had seen so far. Sitting in the back corner on the bottom shelf of one of the cabinets she found two plastic cups, a package of paper plates and some cheap silverware. There was nothing else inside. Grabbing one of the cups she shut the cabinet and looked around realizing that it was the cabinet that held the coffee mugs and the dishrags.

Filling the cup with ice cubes and water Zoë made her way back to the table, walking slowly over the black tiles and looking around at everything once again. The ceilings were all high above her head, while everything on the ground was chrome or clean, absolutely no trace of human life in the home at all. She heard footsteps on the stairs as Michael came down with his backpack in his hand. He had wiped his face and brushed his teeth, or so it appeared. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs as Zoë smiled at him. For Michael something about the way Zoë looked, walking off of the black tile into the den with both hands clasped around her cup that set him off like a tuning fork. He returned the smile sleepily and joined her on the way to the couches. The two sat down on the first sofa, the light brown leather crinkling under their combined weight.
“All right so what did you need help with?”

At eight thirty the two were near done with their studies. Deciding a break was in order they journeyed to the kitchen and refilled their drinks. Michael pulled a liter of lemonade from the fridge and filled his, watching as Zoë filled her cup with ice and water. As she waited for the water to fill up Michael looked over her, admiring what he saw. Zoë stood about five foot five, with long dark brown hair and a very pretty face. She was wearing a gray t-shirt and a pair maroon and white Nike shorts that complemented her well. Her eyes were each different, a stunning combination of green hazel and ice blue. Her breasts were average size, Michael guessed, about a 36 C or larger. He found his eyes wandering lower to her ass, and a very fine ass it was. Michael shook his head as he bean comparing her to Rose, shutting down that part of his mind and putting the lemonade back in the fridge. She turned and smiled at him, walking across and sitting on the bar while setting her feet on one of the stools. He had already told her that his parents were gone to see his aunt, so she had relaxed. Zoë had also realized how he cared for the house. On one of her brief trips to the bathroom she had seen his room, a neat little room that looked so utterly normal it had caused her to smile. Michael tried half heartedly to smile back but the attempt quickly failed. He sat down on a bar stood next to her.

“Michael…” At the sound of Zoë’s voice he snapped up. She was looking down at him with ha genuine concern, almost pity in her eyes. “Are you okay? You’ve been either really tired or really sad this whole time. I feel kind of bad for asking you to do this when you really don’t seem like you want to…” She looked away from his falsely attentive gaze, the sheepishness returning as she spoke.

“Zoë I really am enjoying this whole thing. I don’t like math but you’re making it a lot of fun.” Michael jumped up on the bar and sat next to her, trying not to look directly into her eyes. “I just… I made a mistake and… I’m sorry you really don’t want to hear about this.” He took a sip of his drink, the sour sweet taste of the drink waking him up slowly.

“No please… just tell me! It’s okay… I wont say anything I promise. If it helps… tell me.” Michael looked lazily at Zoë against his own will. He wanted her. He wanted to see something in those eyes besides pity.

“I made the mistake of… hooking up… with a freshman. A girl who is always a total bitch. I thought I saw something different in her I guess. Then today… her friend went to slap me and I stopped her. I got a little mad… I got mad enough to cuss her four friends out and call the one who slapped me a c… a slut… and now she doesn’t want anything to do with me. It’s over because I lost myself for a moment. After an entire year of being hit and poked and prodded and she just left off because I got mad… Now I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I know I didn’t love her or anything like that. I just thought maybe she felt something for me. Not love. I didn’t want her love.” Michael trailed off as he realized how stupid he sounded, taking another sip of lemonade.

Zoë put her hand on his thigh, not really meant to be anything more than a comforting gesture.
“Michael… don’t worry about her. She was probably just using you! You deserve someone better than that… Michael look at me.” Zoë gently grabbed his chin and pulled his eyes around. “I have only known you today, and you are so much better than that. Just forget her.” He looked at her for a minute before smiling, the first genuine smile he had given her that night. She smiled back, a perfect smile that instantly warmed his heart.

“Call me Mike.”
0 comments
SUBMIT A COMMENT
You are not logged in.
Characters count: