Molly’s Good Fuck

“Ungh, ungh, uuuuungh!”

Molly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she just kept quiet, looking up into awkward, twisted face of the boy grunting above her. Oh my god, he looks like he’s having a stroke. She sighed.

The boy looked down at her, panting, a stupid grin on his face. Well, Molly thought it was stupid. “Yeah, you liked that, didn’t you?”

Molly had enough social grace to give a forced smile. Maybe she could convince him to finish her off, anyway. Not as good as cumming from a cock, but better than nothing. “Yeah, that was fantastic, Eddie. You want to . . . .” Her partner pulled out of her and was already off the bed before she could finish the sentence. Screaming now became a viable option, alongside laughing or crying.

“Maybe I’ll see you downstairs?” Eddie already had his pants and shirt back on. Time to go back and brag to your friends? she thought. After receiving a weak smile and a silent nod as permission, Eddie left.

Molly lay there for a few seconds, naked, a bit of cum starting to drip out of her pussy. What. The. Fuck., she thought to herself. The sound of the party drifted from upstairs, past the door, which Eddie the Inconsiderate had left two or three inches open. A thin, sly smile crept over her face as she lifted her head up a little to look down at herself and thought, If you want something done right . . . . She moved her right hand to her clean-shaven pussy, rubbing her clit, and let her left hand slide up to her firm, full right breast, squeezing as much of the fleshy mound as her hand could cover. She began rubbing her clit harder, bucking her hips up, letting her other hand move to pinching and pulling her hard, cute little nipple. After about a minute, she threw her hands up in the air and tossed her head back against the pillow, causing her long blonde hair to spread out over the pillow. Her frustration with Eddie was a major turn off; she knew the time for an orgasm had passed.

Molly swung her legs over the edge of the bed, looking around the poorly lit room. The tacky decor and pristine condition (other than the now-soiled bed) made it clear that when teenagers weren’t using it as a place to fuck the room functioned as a guest bedroom for the family of Tim, her gay best friend and host of tonight’s party. She would have to remind Tim to wash the sheets as part of the post-party clean-up tomorrow. Wouldn’t want Aunt Ethel or whoever to be sleeping on cum stains, after all. Eddie hadn’t exactly released a torrent of man goo, but Eddie probably wouldn’t be the only boy to release a load in the bed tonight. Molly pushed herself forward off the bed and on to her feet, sighing. “Standing shouldn’t be this easy after getting fucked,” she muttered to herself. As she looked around the room, her eyes passed over the digital clock, and her face sunk. “Oh, fuck!”

The poor lighting which had served to heighten the sensual mood minutes earlier now caused Molly to mutter a constant stream of cusses. “Well fuck,” Molly said under her breath, quickly moving to pick up her clothes. “How’s Aunt Ethel going to see in this shit? She wears like the worst glasses I’ve ever fucking seen.” Molly found her red, lace-trimmed demi cup bra and hooked it back into place, providing some support for her 32Ds. A few feet away she found her top, a flowery, loose-fitting shirt. She pulled it on over her head and continued looking for her clothes. She managed to find her skirt; now all that was missing was her thong. Molly let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed her phone. She noticed the time again before turning on the phone’s flashlight feature. “Maybe Aunt Ethel’s got one of these.” She crawled around for nearly a minute, her skirt in one hand and the phone in the other. Defeated, she hung her head. “Fuck this shit.” She grunted as she stood, and began to put on the skirt; the thong would have to wait until morning, unless that fuckhead Eddie took it. But if that was the case, she would deal with him later. Molly adjusted the skirt. Yeah, it was a little small and tight on her thin, 5’4″ frame, but she knew it could at least cover her small but shapely ass. Now looking decent, she grabbed her phone and her little wallet and rushed downstairs.

Several sets of eyes watched as Molly hurried down the stairs. They never seem to give those judgy looks to the boys I fuck, thought Molly. Fucking patriarchy. As Molly was making her way through the crowd, she felt a hand grab her arm and pull her backward. She was about to throw a punch when she recognized it was Tim pulling her in for a hug. Molly’s face relaxed with the realization, and they exchanged exaggerated cheek-to-cheek air kisses, her very fair skin sharply contrasted against his ebony tone. “You okay, sweet thang? You nearly messed up my beautiful face!”

Molly shook her head and said, “Yeah, just a little frustrated, boo.”

A white boy standing next to Tim smiled at Molly and hooked his arm around Tim’s possessively, but didn’t say anything. Tim looked like he was about to say something, but noticed the urgency in Molly’s face and glanced at the clock. “Oh, girl, you better go! Your mom’s gonna kill you if she notices you’re still out!”

Molly smiled at her gay best friend and sighed. “Nah, she’s with Daryl this weekend looking at colleges in New York. It’s dad I’ve gotta deal with. He was supposed to hang out with his friends tonight, maybe they’re still out. Or he’s passed out already. He always comes home wasted after hanging with those guys.” She gave Tim’s hand a squeeze and said, “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Molly turned from Tim, then looked back and pointed at the white boy next to Tim. “You hurt him, I’m going to mess you up!” Molly gave Tim a wink, then finally left.

Thankfully, Tim only lived about two blocks from her house, so the walk wasn’t too bad, especially once she took off her heels. It was a very safe neighborhood, nestled in a residential area of a suburb in the Northeastern United States. A little boring at times, but that would be alleviated a little in six months, when she would turn 16 and learn to drive. The early August night was cool, and the air felt nice against her skin. By the time she reached her house, the sweat had evaporated from her skin, and she was fully recovered from the slight overheating from the party.

As she approached her house, Molly breathed a sigh of relief: her driveway was empty. She was nearly at the door when she heard a car approaching. Moving quickly, she made her way up the driveway to the front door, fumbled with the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and slammed it shut behind her just as the car was coming to a stop. “Fuck, fuck, I’m dead,” she said through gritted teeth. She allowed herself a brief sob to escape her lips before shaking her head and regaining her composure.

She heard the car door open and the sound of a voice coming through the wall, loud but not shouting. “Come on, Andrew, here we go.”

Andrew? My dad? Molly risked a peak through the window next to the front door, and saw a man with an arm around her father’s waist, holding him up as he staggered away from the car. She frowned to herself, unsure what to do — she wanted to help her father, but didn’t want to get in trouble either. She watched as her father fell to the ground, causing his companion to start laughing, loudly. Fuck it, he’s too drunk to remember anything anyway. She put her wallet on the edge of the couch, dropped her shoes by the door, and walked out. “You guys okay?”

The man helping her father managed to stop laughing and gave her a smile. “Yeah, sure, sweetie. Just gotta get your dad inside. Had a bit too much to drink.” Although the voice was slurred, she finally recognized the man as Mr. Worthington, one of her dad’s coworkers at a small law office, specializing in real estate. Molly held open the door as Mr. Worthington more or less dragged her father inside the house. She closed and locked the door behind them.

Mr. Worthington was struggling to get her father up the stairs. Andrew was a big man at 6’4″. He wasn’t particularly fat, but he was certainly not the physical specimen he appeared to be in older photos. Mr. Worthington was 10 years his junior, at 38 years old, and was aging with dignity. He had a full head of thick hair, a well-defined jaw, and clearly had an active gym membership. While Molly was fairly physically strong, considering her height and frame, it was clear to her that she would only get in Mr. Worthington’s way. Instead, Molly trailed behind a few stairs behind them. This gave her time to admire the way Mr.