"Faster!" I say, my heart beating wildly. "You're sure?" Kurt asks, sounding exhausted, but thrilled in a way. "STEP ON IT, KURT!" I scream, and within seconds, Kurt's foot slams on the gas pedal. The wails of sirens get quieter as we drive farther away from the scene.
"Shit, Kurt… You can't go 65! We're driving away from a crime scene, not a fucking sleepover!" I whip my head to glare at him, bangs covering my eyes slightly.
"Calm down, Ziggy, the viewers are gonna think you're crazy," Kurt sighs, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his vape and hands it to me. "Take a hit and calm down, Z. We haven't gotten caught."
I rip the vape from his hand. "Yeah, well, don't fuck around. I don't wanna find out." I take a hit, coughing slightly as the familiar tingling hits the back of my throat. I cross my arms and lean farther back into my seat. Kurt was my babysitter, and since Mom and Dad wanted to go out to dinner, I was stuck sitting in Kurt's car as he drives his Spree. He says its efficient to work three jobs at the same time.
Babysit me. Drive his Spree. Stream. All at the same time.
He takes his right hand off the wheel and places it on my thigh, drawing small, intimate circles. I sigh, my head and heart conflicted. I love Kurt, I really do. But Kurt is 29, and I'm 17. Kurt breaks his eyes from the road, grabbing my cheek tenderly. His fingers brush against my ears as he leans in and kisses my lips ever so gently. Even while making out, there's still this tension, only broken by the sound of Kurt hitting something; which we both ignore. When we break lips finally, Kurt leans over to read the chat. He's finally gotten his viewing high after killing the Jessie Adams and loves seeing peoples opinions.
i<3cuttingmyself: isn't he a minor?
Water Bottle (Taylor's Version): AUTISTIC
FaggieBoyz69: Isn't this the guy who killed Jessie Adams?
MariaHernandez: Come to Brasil!
MommyUwU: UGOTGOT
user1935783: you guys are psycho for watching this fucking serial killer
GapingAssTroll: do anal
Drake'sType: kurt, be fucking fr when was the last time you showered??????
Kurt chuckles to himself reading the incoming comments. "Thanks for watching, guys, I don't think I've introduced today's passenger. That's Ziggy," Kurt says, squeezing my thigh possessively. "Say hello to the viewers, Z."
"Hey," I mumble, not caring much about getting popular off someone like Kurt. I was a streamer myself and really didn't wanna associate with people like Kurt. Yet here I am. "Don't worry, he's just a little grumpy," Kurt says, keeping his tone sharp. Kind of like a warning to just pretend I enjoyed being here; which I didn't. When I don't respond, he digs his fingers into my thigh. I inhale sharply under my breath before finally speaking in the tension. "Hey guys! It's @TheRealZiggyKatz here, go follow me on HiHat if you wanna see more content."
Kurt smirks, before breaking his eyes from the road to read more comments.
maiaarsoncrimew: bruh his music is ass
DustyBunn: DRAKE
biden-made-my-pussy-hemorrhage: im pretty sure you hit something
daddykink33: he killed bobbybasecamp…
moonlandingwasfaked: hes 17…???
SloppyMuppetBalls: we all third wheeling them bro
Something screeches from under the tires, then a large bump. "Did you hit metal or shit?" I mutter. "Just nature's speed bump!" Kurt says cheerfully, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. I sigh, Kurt never stopped the car.
Not for animals. Not for cops. Not even for children.
"Kurt, can we pull over? I gotta use the bathroom," I mumble. I hate that every conversation I have with my boyfriend is up for thousands of people to hear. "We're on the highway, idiot," Kurt sighs.
"Well, I'm gonna piss all over your nice new leather seats," I say, speaking firmer to get my point across. "Don't," Kurt says, trying to keep his tone cheerful for the viewers. "I'm gonna fucking do it if you don't pull over right fucking no-" A hard slaps hits my cheek, as Kurt grabs me by the collar. "Stop being a brat, Ziggy, and hold it." Kurt says, dropping the act finally. Tears sting my eyes and threaten to fall. Kurt gets violent when he's upset. He never meant to hurt me, he was just upset. He never means to hurt me. Never…
"Don't be dramatic, I didn't hit you that hard." Kurt sighs again. "Sorry Kurt…" I say, squeezing my thighs together thighs to suppress the burning feeling in my pelvis. I wipe the tears from my eyes as I look out my window, hiding my face in my hands. The familiar feeling of throat burn when you need to cry but hold it fills my throat more than Kurt will tonight. I squeeze my knees together so hard I can feel the bones in my knees grinding together, and Kurt seems to notice it, expression softening slightly.
"You really can't hold it for 10 more minutes?" Kurt says in this understanding but slightly annoyed tone that makes my heart sink. I hate disappointing Kurt. I shake my head, bangs brushing against my forehead. "Well, we can't stop, piss in a bottle or something,"
"One, you're streaming, two, what bottle?" I sigh exasperatedly. "One, the viewers would love to watch, and two I don't fucking know," Kurt smirks, adjusting his sunglasses. He places his hand in my lap, but instead of my thighs, this time, he presses his thumb into my pelvis, causing me to gasp.
"Fuck, Kurt," I moan. "You're gonna make me leak on your seats."
"Hold it, Ziggy," he teases, now pressing hard circles, making me squirm. "F-fuck, Kurt… This isn't funny." But Kurt isn't joking. He fingers undo the button of my jeans, keeping his other hand on the wheel. Kurt pulls the camera off my window and puts it on the handle for a 'better view' as he unzips my fly.
"Kurt, maybe not on camer-" but he's already pull my boxers down, only to my lower thighs. There I was; vulnerable and exposed for thousands to see.
"Kurt!" I yelp, failing to cover myself. "Come on, don't be a prick, Ziggy. Lighten up a little. Have some fun," Kurt says with his signature smirk, putting on his sunglasses. His head turns almost mechanically to look out his window. He presses his fingers slightly harder and smiles as I squirm under his firm grip. "K-Kurt," I moan. I couldn't help but think of how good it felt. Kurt moves his right hand from my pelvis to my cock, stroking it painfully slow. My hips buck involuntarily as a breathy gasp escapes my lips. He takes his eyes off the road to lean his head down and lip my tip, making me shiver. "Kurt…"
"Such a desperate boy," Kurt said in an almost mocking tone. "Oh- Kurt," I moan, all my muscles tensing. Suddenly, Kurt moves his right hand back to the steering wheel.
"Kurt, you're such an ass. Just finish, I promise it'll be fast. I'll even clean it," I whine, my cock still hard and pulsing. "And what do I get in return? This isn't a service, it's a trade."
'Kurt, don't be a dick, it isn't funny," I try to stay calm, but the feeling makes my voice tremble. "Beg for it, slut." Kurt says, already hard.
"Please…" I whisper weakly, but desperate. "Aww, you're so cute, I love you, you know that right?" Kurt says, grabbing my chin to look at me and captures my lips in a kiss. It shocks me for a second, because Kurt isn't usually this affectionate. The way he compliments me is usually "I love that you don't tell your parents" and "You're a good fuck toy" and all that objectify shit. But he was being sweet. Tender. Loving? No, not possible for Kurt.
"Since I'm nice, I'll let you," He continues stroking me, enjoying the way beads of sweat form on my forehead, the way we make direct eye contact the whole time. My muscles tense, then relax in a second, cum shooting all over my denim jacket. I moan quietly, getting lightheaded from the feeling. Kurt leans his head down to my cock. "Come on, Ziggy, I don't have time to stop at the bathroom," He puts my tip in his mouth, and without thinking, I release the piss I've been holding for so long. Kurt swallows it all without even making a face, then sips his "water".
"Fuck that was hot," Kurt says, now rubbing his own bulge. His voice was different, not the booming loud streamer voice he normally used. A quiet, breathy voice, making him even hotter. He uses a McDonalds napkin to wipe the cum off my jacket, but it still looked vaguely wet, like I spilled water on myself. But it didn't feel wet, it was sticky and gross as it seeps through my shirt and onto my chest. My chest heaves as I try and catch my breath.
Kurt pulls into the 7/11 parking lot, said something about needing to wash his hands and getting a drink. I sit in the passenger seat, sinking deep so no one sees me. Five minutes later, Kurt comes back with those cheap, crappy brown paper napkins and a Diet Pepsi. He opens the door to the front seat and slides in with an exhausted sigh. He hands me the drink.
"T-thanks Kurt," I stutter, still recovering from the orgasm. "No problem," Kurt responds absent-mindedly.
My trembling fingers struggle to pop the can, but after a good 30 seconds of struggling, it opens, splattering backsplash on the window.
"Before I drive off, come sit over here with me," Kurt says, turning to look at me.
"Wha-" But Kurt pulls me across the center console and onto his lap. He takes the car out of park and drift out of the parking lot doing 80 (mph). He speeds down the rural road, accidently hitting a dog on a leash, and the owner too, I think. I sip my Diet Pepsi as we're speeding down the road, car bumping and shaking with every pothole and bump. "I have an idea," Kurt smirks. "You trust me?"
"Yeah, I trust you." I respond after a good minute of thinking. Kurt unzips his fly and pulls my pants down to my thighs. He then roughly thrusts into me, no warning, no lube. "Fuck! Kurt!" I yelp. We had fucked several times before, but it had never hurt like this. He starts going 124 down the highway, on the wrong side of course, every bump hitting just a bit deeper in my intestines. Kurt thrusts his hips while he's flying on the highway, pressing his foot hard into the gas with no signs of stopping. I cum all over the steering wheel but even then he doesn't stop.
He's now going 130, swerving around cars while also swerving around my insides. He thrusts harder, faster, until I feel the warmth spread through my body as he cums deep in my guts. "Fuck!" I cry out, cumming yet again, harder this time. He rests his hand on my thighs, swerving off an exit and pulling into a car wash to get the blood spatter off the windshield. While he pays, I get out and lay on the back seat.
"You look tired," Kurt says, rubbing my shoulder. "I am a little," I respond sheepishly. He pulls the car into the car wash and then jumps over into the back with me.
He leans down and lays a hand on my waist and he kisses my neck softly, sending shivers to my spine. His hand reaches down my pants again, making me sigh. All Kurt ever cared about was sex. Never cared most days I struggled to get out of bed because my insides hurt so bad. Never cared I felt guilty about not telling my mom about this. Never cared that inside, I hurt, knowing he doesn't love me. Just my body.
He carefully unzips my pants again, kissing my collarbone with practiced precision. I hate this feeling. The feeling I can never leave. Within seconds, we were naked, making out in the back of his car. He lifts my legs so they hit the ceiling before pounding into me with rough thrusts that make me gasp. "Fuck, Ziggy, you're so good."
"Mhm," I'm able to make weakly. Every thrust makes my entire body shake, my head bumping against the door handle since the backseat is small. He cums inside me again, even though I've said before I hate the feeling and how messy it gets. He collapses on me with a content sigh, nuzzling into my neck. The car wash light turns green, meaning he has to drive forward to dry. He hops back in the front and puts the car back in gear to move forward.
After the carwash is over, Kurt puts his clothes on, but I've stopped caring. I lay, undressed in his back seat as he goes back to doing 80 (mph). I just remember the shake in my chest as my eyes close, sleeping away the physical and emotional pain.
Kurt shakes me awake as we pull into my driveway, helping me put my clothes back in. I kiss him bye as I step out of the car, walking inside. Every step feels like a chore.
"Hi, Ziggy, how was your day with Kurt?" My dad asked. What a fucking idiot. Neither of my parents use social media so they don't know who Kurt really is when they leave. Most kids loved summer vacation, but it's my least favorite time of year. Where every day when my parents leave for work, I'm stuck with Kurt for hours. It's been this way since I was 8. When Kurt was 15, babysitting to make money for his mom.
"Good," I say weakly. It was all I could muster up. I walk into the bathroom, turning on the water and letting in cascade down my filthy skin. I could scrub my skin till it bled and I wouldn't feel clean. This was the way it is and the way it will always be.
And all I can do it get clean and ready for tomorrow.
