Authors: Noel Merczel
"Hey what?" he says back, in a taunting way. "You want this! That’s why you always wait out in your yard for me every night!"
"C'mon!" she says, struggling to escape from his grasp.
"No!" he insists in a very take-charge
tone.
Then he gets even more rough, pushing his hand up her dress, touching her cotton panties with the little flowers on them... touching everywhere...
Andrea is wet with excitement, but still, she resists
. The resisting turns him on
... she can tell.
Some might argue that her fantasies bordered on rape, even though they were never brought to their obvious
conclusion.
But hey, they're just fantasies
!
Andrea would argue.
They can be anything I want them to be
!
Nothing like her "Big Bad Wolf fantasy" had ever come close to happening in real life, of course
. However,
Andrea did manage to be out watering the flowers in her mom's garden at the exact moment Mr. Sexy Jogger happened to be jogging by in the evening... which was always
around 7:00.
She
even stood out there one night when it was raining, which was really dumb. He jogged by in
a light blue sports slicker; the kind of conservative looking jacket Andrea's dad would wear
. They
waved at each other.
Then, he'd graced her with a super big smile.
Andrea figured he was thinking,
That
girl’s an idiot
!
But she did notice that his teeth looked really
good.
She was happy about that since bad teeth were such a turn-off.
She could just bet he was a great
kisser.
The only guy Andrea had ever kissed, was
Michael Fishman from summer vacation up in Wisconsin.
It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but it was true. Although Andrea was a very cute girl, she was also very shy. Plus, she had a
super strict dad.
Andrea didn't think that summer vacation kiss counted, though, since Michael Fishman just stood there pressed against her face sweating up a storm; his mouth opening and closing like a guppy begging for fish flakes.
Andrea had the most awful thought while the whole disgusting experience was taking place, which was:
I guess he lives up to his name....
And then, to add insult to injury, the jerk got
a hard on! That’s when
Andrea told him she had to go - which was true, since her dad hated her to get in past nine
. Luckily,
her family left for home right
the next day.
To be honest, Andrea didn't feel any pressure
to find a steady boyfriend. Right now, fantasizing about Mr. Sexy Jogger was enough.
So...how did she know he was married?
Once when Andrea was in the car with her mom on their way to Maybelline’s (the only store they both liked) she saw him pushing his recycling can up the
driveway. Then
she spotted his wife standing there in the front yard with her hands on her hips looking all pissy
.
Andrea instinctively knew the woman was his wife and not a
girlfriend. A girlfriend wouldn't
be standing there with her hands on her hips, looking like a total bitch.
But a wife would.
Bes
ides.
The woman just
looked
like a wife.
She was t
otally average looking.
Actually, Andrea thought "average" was too kind a word
.
Her hair was
thin and straggly and she was wearing these ugly frumpy shorts that were way too long. They looked like
the kind of shorts Andrea's
mom would wear. Plus, her legs were real
ly skinny and she looked older than him.
Andrea couldn’t help but wonder why such a hot hunky guy had
such a boring old frump for a wife.
Maybe she was
good in bed?
Andrea doubted that. Sure, there was this thing that guys called
ugly sex
.
But honestly,
she couldn't believe a person would actually get married for that.
Besides, Andrea was quite sure Mr. Sexy Jogger's wife was the type who didn't like sex at all. You could just tell.
She definitely didn't give blow-jobs
.
Andrea had
read in some magazine (probably Cosmo) that refusing to give oral sex was a married woman's biggest mistake.
After reading that little tidbit of wisdom, she vowed never to make that mistake, herself.
In fact, Andrea practiced her burgeoning blowjob techniques on pickles, every chance she got. Andrea's other friend Lisa (who was really more of a frenemy) had suggested the idea. Unlike Andrea,or geeky Drew, or Andrea's chubby pal Patty, Lisa had a lot of experience with men
.
So at least Lisa was good for something.
"Be sure to use all different sizes!" Lisa
advised, with a naughty giggle. "
Pickles are like men. There’s no one size fits all.
Just don't put them back in the jar when you're done. That would be gross
."
Then Lisa loaned Andrea this cheesy blowjob DVD, which Andrea watched whenever her parents went to Costco. Her parents were gone a long time when they went to Costco, stocking up on boxes of mesquite chicken tenders and bags of mushroom ravioli.
Andrea always got a lot of good practice time in before she had to go downstairs and help her mom put all the food away.
She hid the blowjob DVD at the bottom of her underwear drawer
.
Like an apt pupil, she studied how the incredibly enthusiastic and overly endowed women on the DVD administered oral sex.
Andrea chose a small pickle and practiced in front of the mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She felt really stupid...at first. But then, slowly, she got more and more into it. She simply pretended she was one of the actresses on the DVD, even going so far as to dress up in her best lacey underwear while really giving it to that pickle.
Soon, Andrea progressed onto bigger and bigger pickles. And now, she was convinced she was quite skilled at the Art of the B
lowjob.
All she needed
was a real dick.
And certainly NOT Michael Fishman's!
Now Mr. Sexy Jogger's....that was another story...
Sure, Andrea had eaten a boat load of pickles. Luckily, pickles weren't fattening.
U
nlike cum, which Lisa reported was fattening - at least when consumed in large quantities.
Andrea wasn't exactly sure what "large quantities" entailed. T
wo blowjobs a day
? T
en?
"And that's if you swallow,"
Lisa had added.
"Otherwise, it's downright rude and disrupts the flow!
Plus, it's so messy. Just make sure the guy's clean. You know, no diseases. Yuck!"
"Yea...yuck," Andrea had agreed, wondering how you know if a guy is "clean" or not, but not wanting to admit that she didn't know.
There was some humor to be found in it all, though.
Andrea had to secretly chuckle the other day when her mom inquired as to where all the pickles were disappearing to
. A
ndrea simply shrugged and suggested that maybe a ghost was eating them.
"A ghost, hmmm? Well if you suddenly like pickles so much, Andrea," her mom had said, "
maybe I should start buying the extra large size jars at Costco."
CHAPTER TWO
Andrea
didn't really love pickles, of course. She didn't dislike them
. B
ut they were merely practice tools to her.
She did, however, love cupcakes and charm bracelets, and swimming pools and King Charles spaniels and flowers.....all of which she included on her Pinterest profile - Pinterest being something else she loved (all those gorgeous images and creative ideas)!
But two things Andrea loved more than all the others, were a
rt and mermaids.
She loved creating art; beautiful magical flowy pictures... and mermaids provided her with the perfect subject matter
.
Mermaids satisfied Andrea ascetically;
their long flowing hair; their big doe-like eyes (not unlike her own) and of course, all the colorful sparkly embellishments she liked to add that looked like little twinkling diamonds....
As soon as Andrea got her own car, she wanted to buy a bumper sticker that read:
I Break for Mermaids
.
She wasn't delusional enough to think mermaids were real, of course
.
That was as dumb as thinking zombies were real!
She just loved the notion of mermaids;
probably because she loved water and she loved to swim.
Andrea's biggest goal was to see the ocean, since she had lived in Illinois all her life and the only place her family ever went on vacation was in Wisconsin
. Sure, there was Lake Michigan
which was so big it practically
looked
like an ocean. But it wasn't
the real thing, so it didn't count.
Right now, Andrea was working
on a Sharpie marker drawing of a mermaid.
She had just purchased a giant pack of pastel Sharpies at Michael's Craft, along with an eight ounce bottle of Mod Podge and a new container of very fine pink glitter. Okay, so maybe she had used up all the money she earned babysitting for her friend Patty's little brother... but it was worth it.
Her picture was laid out in the middle of the coffee table
. The mermaid in the picture had oodles of long dark tumbling
hair (the hair was very important!) surrounded by an ocean of dark and light colored blue and
lavender flowers.
The picture was titled:
Fiona and the Flower Garden.
"Zombie mermaid..." Andrea suddenly said.
Maybe she would draw that next....
Has anyone ever thought to draw a zombie mermaid
, she wondered
?
She would have to consult Google Images.
But why was she even thinking about zombies?
That stupid show Dead Heads, that's why!
The show didn’t seem creepy to Andrea while she was watching and
making fun of it with Drew. After all, Andrea thought zombies were as lame as vampires
or werewolves - or Freddy Krueger, for that matter!
But now that she was here all by herself and it was dark out, Andrea kept seeing those evil corpses...she saw their dead staring eyes...cold and soulless.
So much for delicious Alone Time!
It didn't help that she kept hearing this weird banging noise on the sliding glass doors
.
The noises sounded like someone (or something?) thumping on the glass from outside on the
patio.
"Must be those giant beetles!" Andrea announced to the empty room, remembering Drew's entomology lesson about beetles with brain controlling parasites.
"OH BROTHER!" she shouted, breaking up the silence with false bravado.
Andrea wished she had a pet cat or dog
.
Then, not only would she have a little furry friend to keep her company, but she would also have a convenient culprit to blame strange noises on.
Except
that
her mom was allergic to all pet hair.
Andrea couldn't even get a gerbil.
She could probably get a goldfish.
But she couldn't exactly blame weird thumping noises on a little old goldfish, could she?
Andrea decided to go online to get her mind off being creeped
out.
She had a couple of sites she visited whenever she needed a laugh, like "Museum of Bad Art
" and "Funny Walmart Shoppers".
But her favorite place to go was this site called "Top Secret Confessions"
. There w
as never a lack of lame confessions posted, guaranteed to crack her up.
Sometimes the confessions were obviously fake, like the one written by this girl who divulged she had an extra ear in the back of her head and doesn't want anyone to know... so she always wears hats or hoods to cover it up.
But most of the time, the confessions seemed real enough. Like the confession written by this guy who claims his girlfriend's butt is
really stinky. He
really loves her but he just can't stand the smell of her butt and he doesn't know how to tell her that she stinks.
Andrea really cracked up over that one.
Or this other one written by this loser guy who claims he buys used panties on the Internet then swirls them around in his own homemade wine to make the wine taste better
.
In Andrea's opinion, that was just too weird for anyone to make up.
“Damn!” Andrea swore.
Her stupid laptop wouldn't
go online. It
was stuck on a white screen with that dumb little circle going round and round and round.
Andrea hated that dumb little circle.
“SHIT!" she hollered, snapping her computer shut.
She couldn't use her phone to go online, either. In order to save money, her dad
decided not to pay for the Internet on the cell phone.