#just a fantasy...

"Uh huh," The policy means jack shit, Illi learned that her freshman year, but her teacher still tells her about the "zero tolerance" for bullying here. She doesn't pay attention, it doesn't matter when you're going to be her partner.

You. With your constant gum chewing and stupidly high ponytail. The girl on the cheer team who's always got the brightest smile regardless of the score. Always writing in your pink diary with a matching pink pen. Stuck in that clique of jocks and bimbos even though you can actually read. Illi's muse that fills a sketch book and a half back home in ever angle, lighting, position, and state of undress. Your locker stuffed so full of make up products that you didn't even notice when Illi swiped a lip gloss from it.

The lip gloss in question currently sits in her pants pocket, burning a hole through to her skin. She's been carrying it around like a good luck charm since she stole it borrowed it two weeks ago. It's only touched her lips once, but what a glorious moment that was. Ranking higher than when your guys fingers touched as you handed her a piece of gum (that same fruity flavor you love), but lower than the first time she caught you changing alone after practice (a moment forever immortalized in pencil, charcoal, marker, and oil pastels in her sketchbook). This though, this shoots past them all and lands in first place, hoisting one of those giant trophies they give out to the other sports teams over its head.

You and Illi, working together on a project. A project that requires out of class work. She might get to see your bedroom. Or better yet you might come down to her basement.

Wouldn't that be a sight. You, the preppy cheerleader, sitting on Illi's old Star Wars bedsheets, not realizing you're basically sitting in her shrine to you.

Illi needs that to happen.

~

"I'm so sorry to take up your free period like this,"

You've claimed a table in the back of the library. Your notes from class are spread out in front of you. Illi's sitting down across from you with an awkward smile. Your journal is shoved to the bottom of your bag.

You slammed it shut the second you caught sight of her greasy hair. The last thing you need is for her to catch even a glimpse of your writing. You had taken those ten minutes she's always late by to start on the idea that's been plaguing you since last night. Illi's weird, but you don't think she's "appreciate someone writing erotica about them" weird.

"I don't mind, it was nice of you to ask to be with me,"

"Of course," You smile at her as she shoves that chunk of hair behind her ear that always falls in her face. "I've had to work with Brad in the past, and frankly I don't think anyone should have to do that,"

"Well still, thanks,"

She's shockingly sweet with you. You watch Illi take on many forms. You've seen her dorking it out with her friends while at the mall or during lunch. You've seen her intense concentration when she sings in her band or is practicing croquet. You've seen her apathetic through classes or working her job. You haven't seen her like this, bashful and soft. It seems out of place on a girl like her, someone who spends a few weeks every school year suspended and will fight a bitch the second they talk shit on her brother, but you won't lie and say it isn't adorable how pink she turns as you get into her space.

It's so adorable that you find yourself awkwardly stepping out for a moment, claiming you need to use the bathroom. You stare down the girl in the mirror, forcing yourself to pull it together. You've only got 10 minutes left and you need to enact the final step of your plan.

"I'm just so busy during the school day, it would be so much easier to work on it outside of class," You've got your planner laid out in front of both of you, chewing slightly on your pen as you stare down the two page spread for the week. There's only one blank spot and you tap at it. "Would you mind if we met up Thursday night? We could do it at your place if that's easier,"

"My place works great," She takes her pen and writes down her name and an address. "Just make sure you bring over whatever you think we'll need,"

"Perfect!" It is, she didn't even blink an eye before accepting you coming over. "I'll see you then Illi,"

~

"Why'd you cancel?"

"Why'd you care?"

Illi's shitty car, which was her father's shitty car first, contains food wrappers, her bags, and her brother and his bags. It reeks no matter how many little trees she hangs from her rear view mirror. The music player only works half the time. It also is Illi's saving grace as it gets her to and from the school far faster than the bus she used to take did.

(It also makes it far easier to follow you, but that's neither here nor there)

"It's Tuesday,"

"And?"

"Tuesday is the only day we all have free,"

Mikey's not wrong. Ray works Mondays and Fridays, Illi works Thursdays and Fridays, Frank has a standing detention on Mondays till the staff decide he's "shaped up", Mikey does A/V Club on Thursdays, and Wednesdays and weekends no after school activities are allowed so they all go and practice with their band. Tuesdays are the only day that all four of them can practice together, it's crucial to the synergy of the team.

"Something came up,"

Illi swears that Mikey's gaze is a physical thing. That he doesn't have his glasses because his eye sight is shit, but that he's actually got some sort of mini cyclopes thing going on and if he takes them off you'll explode.

"Nothing's ever come up. I've seen you go to practice after puking your guts out from lunch. You've argued with teachers to let us out of detention on Tuesdays for croquet. You made me cancel a date with that girl that really liked me. You snuck Ray in that time he got suspended for cheating on a test. That one time it rained we still went out, Frank got pneumonia from that,"

Illi parks the car with a bit more aggression than is strictly necessary.

"Well Mikey, if you're so passionate about croquet you should run for captain next election. We'll be needing a new once since Ray and I will be graduating,"

In truth it feels wrong to be home so early on a Tuesday. Illi really should be playing croquet in between watching you run cheer routines, then afterwards she'd go to the diner before hanging out with Ray on his porch for a while, waiting for you to drive by in your friends car. Instead she drops her croquet supplies against the stairs and her bag next to the bed. She pulls out each item she's collected and lines them up carefully on her unmade sheets.

The gum packet she always carries that you took a piece from once.

The filled sketchbook of you and the half finished one.

The envelope of photos she got printed of you in the locker room after cheer.

The empty pen she fished out of the trash when you threw it away, your teeth having made little indents on the cap from chewing it.

The ribbon you forgot while redoing your hair in the mall bathroom.

The lip gloss she took from you locker, the thing that only an hour ago had been the boldest move of her life.

And your diary.

It's pink and girly with a matching glitter pen, probably meant for an eight year old and not an 18 year old, but you carry it around you everywhere. Illi's had her heart set on it since she first saw you pull it away from your friends. What sort of things do you write in here? What sort of details have only your, and soon her, eyes seen? What's so secretive that not even your best friend has been allowed to touch it?

Her hands shake as she turns the page, scared of ruining something so holy with her degeneracy. Your handwriting is loopy, a sort of half cursive half print, with all you i's and j's dotted with circles instead of dots. Illi leans down to better read your first entry.

"The girls locker room door opens. I'm the only one left in it, my friends are all waiting by the car for me. I turn ready to yell that I'm still changing when I catch her eye, Illi. She's taken her blazer and tie off, now only wearing the white shirt of the uniform which she's sweated through to the point of transparency."

Oh.

Illi flips more pages in and picks a random paragraph to start.

"'You like that?' Illi's hands are tangled in my hair as she pulls me up and down her cock. 'Like how I treat you like a dirty whore?'"

A couple pages back, a new starting place.

"Illi lets out a bark, I pull the belt turned collar leash ever so slightly tighter and she does it again. I smile at my doggy, my fingers trailing across my wet pussy and spreading my lips slightly. 'Good girl, you want a treat?'"

It goes like that for a while, Illi flipping back and forth, reading paragraphs and sentences at a time. This is so much better than anything she could've dreamed of. She'd been hoping for some personal drama that she could exploit to get closer to you at best, not a list of every dirty thought you've about her. Some you two even share, you describing what Illi drew so perfectly she'd be worried you've seen her sketchbooks if it weren't for the fact that they haven't left the basement.

She reads the latest one, the one that's not done since Illi interrupted you writing and then took your book from you, reads it twice before picking up her sketch book and those nice colored pencils her grandmother got her last Christmas. When a muse offers you inspiration, you take it.

~

You almost cancel on Illi, sick to your stomach with anxiety, but she's so excited when she sees you in class that you can't bear to do it.

Your journal is missing. You had settled down after a busy day in bed, ready to finish writing and get yourself off only to find it no where to be found. You spent all of yesterday running around campus, asking if anyone has seen your diary and accusing your friends of theft. You'd feel bad about it now, but dammit that notebook can't be found! Why didn't you buy the one with the lock? It might not have worked well but it would have at least been a deterrent from reading it. All it takes is someone flipping past the page that has your name and "Do Not Read" in bold letters and you'll be called into the main office for "inappropriate conduct", something that could get you expelled, probably will if they read beyond that first story.

That doesn't matter now though, not when Illi's bringing you down to her room.

"You can just put your stuff on my desk, I need to grab something from upstairs,"

You nod silently, fight back the instinct to grab the first item of clothing you see and shove it in your bag, and instead take the opportunity to inspect at her desk.

It matches what little you've seen of her locker and backpack. Personalized to hell and back and covered in so much crap you can't find a single place to put your stuff. You opt instead to put it on her chair and lift the cover of the sketchbook taking the coveted center spot. It's got her name in a blocky colorful graffiti style and a woman's back drawn only in pen. It's a fun juxtaposition, something so stylized and loud next to something so simplistic and understated. Then you flip the page and are met with yourself unzipping your cheer skirt. You don't have a shirt or bra on and Illi has taken extra care to make your panties have that lacy trim you favor.

The next page is you, looking up with tears running down your face, mascara ruined with a disembodied hand sticking its fingers into your mouth. The next are a series of nine pelvises with varying pubic hair, you'd say they aren't explicitly you but on the bottom of the page Illi's wondered aloud what style you'd favor.

The whole sketchbook is filled like this, you in all manner of positions, all states of undress, all points of being fucked, along with Illi's cramped handwriting in the margins of each drawing, fantasizing about you.

Then you pause, it's a comic. Not like the ones that have been on other pages, three panels of you coming undone from fingering or fucking or giving a blowjob done in graphite, but a full blown, properly colored, with dialogue bubble's comic.

You read the first line and your heart sinks.

You whirl around at the sound of a door clicking shut. Illi's at the top of the stairs and can see you going through her sketchbook. You'd like to claim you caught her red handed, but she holds a familiar object in her hands.

"You forgot this at the library,"

That's bullshit and you know it. You always put that journal under your textbooks, she took it.

"And you liked it," It's a statement, not a question, you're holding the proof in your hands.

"Yeah," Illi locks the door with a swift Shht. "You got a gift, and with each story you kept getting better,"

"This one your favorite?" You stare down the pages of the sketchbook, not paying any attention when Illi's feet pad closer and closer to you, instead you just turn the paper and find the next page unfinished.

"Maybe," She's close now, so close you can feel her warmth and smell her coffee breath. "It's not done, though"

"We could fix that,"

"Should start at the beginning then?"

You shoot your hand out, trying to grab the notebook.

"Illi it's not what it looks like,"

"It's not?"

You swallow, she's got a predatory grin on as she holds the notebook above her head. You could probably reach it with minimal effort, but instead you grab her shoulder and shove your tits against hers, making sure to do lots of rubbing together as you reach up.

"They're just fantasies, don't be rude,"

"So it's just a fantasy that I make you blow me under the bleachers during school? Or you pissing on me? What about that one about you fucking me while we both wear cheer uniforms?" You feel yourself running hot as she lists out your stories, her erection slowly growing against your thigh. "Is the one where I find your diary just a fantasy?"

"You can't break the fourth wall," You pause your feigned fight. "It ruins the moment,"

"It's not breaking the fourth wall, I'm just describing what's in your notebook. That's what you wrote down,"

"Still, that hadn't been written yet in that story. Also, don't call it a diary,"

"It says diary on the cover,"

You glower at her. "There is nothing sexy about a diary, it's my journal,"

She responds by putting her free hand on your upper back and shoving your face even closer to hers. "Is the one where you lick the sweat off of me just a fantasy?"

Holy shit you forgot about that one.

"Yeah," You know you don't sound convincing, but the concept of Illi sweaty is far more important than you two role-playing.

"Are you sure?" Her fingers trail down your back and just barely go under your waist band, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Because I bet if I checked you've soaked your panties,"

You have, but also you don't care because now that your brain is on sweat you've noticed how whatever perfume she normally cakes on during school has vanished, leaving the sweet stench of her body odor. It would probably smell even better underneath the layers she's got on, Illi musk in its purest form.

"What're you thinking about?" She pops the button on your jeans.

"Smelling you," You grab at the zipper of her hoodie, pulling it down to reveal a t-shirt. "Licking you, just getting to have you,"

She slides the hoodie off her shoulders and starts going at her belt. "Bed,"

You two make an awkward shuffle to the bed as you discard clothing items along the way. The second her briefs are off of her you shove her down, straddling her naked body with yours. She reaches up to grab at your tits but you slap her hands away.

"Me first, then you can do what you want,"

She looks so much better than anything you could've come up with. She's thick and plush, porcelain pale from all the time she spends inside. Her boobs are small, nipples a pinky red and very responsive when you touch them. Her dick presses against your ass, proud and tall, you haven't gotten a good look at it yet but you're sure it's just as pretty as the rest of her. The real prize though is her arm pit.

You haven't seen Illi in anything less than full sleeves, even out of uniform and during the heatwaves of summer, so all you've had is your imagination. You pictured her with at most little bit of stubble, a slight shine from the sweat that accumulated there. What you get instead is her unshaven pits, hairs dotted with the tiniest bead of perspiration. You don't hesitate to shove your face in, taking in a long breath.

It's musky and sweet, better than anyone else you've gotten a good whiff of. You'd bottle this scent up, wear it to school, dab it gently on your pulse points, eagerly tell anyone who asked about it that it's all Illi. You press your cheek against it, her sweat rubs off of the hairs and onto you, like an animal claiming you with their scent.

Illi finally moves when you stick your tongue out and touch the tip to the very edge of her pit. She squirms at the feeling, pulling away from you. That won't do.

One of your hands grabs at her arm, pulling it further up as the other one presses down on her clavicle. Pinned down and unable to escape you lick across her armpit, involuntarily buck at the eroticism. She tastes gross. Whatever remnants of deodorant she still has from this morning have a soapy feel to it. The sweat itself is so salty you can't taste the sweetness that permeates her scent. The unshaven hairs are long and feel gross against your tongue.

You go back for seconds, grinding intentionally back on her erection as you do so.

"Holy shit, you're into this,"

You pull out of her armpit to look up at her. "Yeah," You grind down again, enjoying the way she moans. "And so are you,"

"Fuck,"

"Want a taste?"

Illi hangs her mouth open, panting like a dog. You lean in to kiss her, tongue sweeping across the inside of her mouth, trying to map out all her tiny teeth. You roll your hips again, her dick catching at your clit and stimulating it.

Her other armpit has been ignored so far, which you can't let stand. You mouth at it, teeth and tongue working together to worship it. Illi's fighting hard to keep her upper half still but she's grinding against you with reckless abandon. You're half scared half aroused at the idea she's going to slip by accident. Once you've cleaned her off enough that you can't taste her sweat anymore you pull off.

"Fuck Illi. You taste so good,"

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh," No longer distracted by her sweat you become acutely aware of the fact you are rapidly approaching your orgasm. "Wanna live in your arm pit, wash myself in your sweat,"

"Keep talking baby," Illi moves one of her hands to rest on your clit, providing a better surface for you to get off on.

"Ohgod, I'm gonna getcha after practice, lock you in the bathroom, and fucking worship every inch of sweaty skin. I-I'll start with your feet, and lick e-everywhere till I ge-et to-holyshit-to your ha-airline a-and then I'm go-onna suck y-your cock and i-it'd fuckin' reek, ohmygod, y-you'd smell so bad, a-and whe-en I-AH,"

You don't finish that last thought when you get the angle just right and cum all over Illi's hand. You ride out the orgasm to the point of overstimulation and then just a little bit further, eking out all possible pleasure. You collapse onto the bed next to Illi, close enough that when you spot the sweat that's formed on her face you can lick it off her without moving. They're baby licks, kitten licks, nothing like those hungry ones you were doing earlier. Illi doesn't seem to mind even turns so you have more space to cover.

You're maybe halfway done with her face when you suddenly realize her dick is still poking you.

"Did you cum?"

"No," She shakes her head slightly. "You said I could do whatever I want after you,"

"Alright, what do you want?"

She puts the two of you in a reverse of your position from earlier, Illi on top while you lay beneath her. She grabs your hands and places them on either side of your chest.

"Hold these,"

You follow her guidance and squish your tits together, grinning at the way she licks her lips appreciatively.

That's how you two end up on Illi's bed in a mating press. In the list of things you guys have done this sits firmly on the vanilla side, no convolutated set ups or toys to take it to the next level, just you two fucking without even a condom between you two.

Your nails are raking red lines down Illi's back, she hopes you're drawing blood. Each thrust you're egging Illi on, "more" and "please" and "Illi" coming out as little puffs of air. She can't loose this, can loose you, she'd sooner kill herself.

"Fuck, baby, baby 'm close,"

"Yeah?" Illi can see your brain working overtime to pull a sentence together. "Gonna cum?"

"Uh huh,"

You draw a particularly vicious line down her back. "Gonna cum in me?"

There's a stutter of Illi's hips before she gets back on her rhythm but you notice it anyways.

"Oh, fuck, you wanna?" Your eyes are blow wide, pupils dialated wide in arousal.

"Please," Illi might as well be ripping her heart out and giving it to you with this request. "Please, baby,"

Your mouth curls up into that wicked smile you have while taking control. "Beg for it,"

"Baby, please lemme cum in you. Please, wanna fill you up, wanna cum in you. Please, please, baby, need to stuff you so so bad. Please lemme cum in you, god baby, wanna claim you, wanna make you mine," Illi can feel what she's saying getting dangerously close to the truth but once she's started begging she can't stop herself. "Wanna knock you up, baby please,"

"Knock me up?" You repeat the words and Illi can't tell what you me. "You promise?"

"Yeah," Illi can feel tears poking at her eyes. "Gonna put a baby in you. Gonna put my baby in you. Gonna make you pregnant and make you mine. Fuck, I wanna babytrap you,"

"Do it, do it Illi, do it. Get me pregnant, knock me up, holy shit. Gonna swell up like a balloon with your kid. Gonna be round all over. 'nd my tits, they're gonna be fucking huge,"

"Close," Illi manages to get out.

"After me, baby, 'm close too. C'mon Illi, gotta get me pregnant, gonna be all pretty with your kid 'nd everyone will know 'm your and and—Ah!"

There's not much hope for Illi not immediately cumming after she sees your orgasm face. She rocks into you, trying to get her sperm farther and farther in, as if she can push them all the way to the finish line on her own.

She only stops when you reach up and slap her arm, making her pull out so you can lower your legs. You two reshuffle so your legs are tangled and Illi's ear is on your heart while your hand pets her hair. It's the same position you've taken all summer but instead of the way you useually melt into one puddle you guys are rigid. After a minute of silence you speak up.

"I don't really… want kids. Like, if I get pregnant now I won't go to college and I'll never leave this town and I'm not equiped for a kid, y'know?"

"I don't either, probably won't ever, I'm not the right kinda person for that,"

"Alright, well, what I do want is to be yours. I think that's why I was so on board, the thought of us being stuck together,"

Illi deflates in sheer relief. "Me too, oh my god, me too. I don't wanna be high school sweethearts, I wanna grow old together and die on the same day,"

"You mean that?"

"Yes, yes. Baby, I'm forever about you, nothing can change that,"

You pull her in tight. "Thank god. I love you Illi, I love you so fucking much,"

"I love you too, I wish we could melt into one person,"

"We can try, sounds a hell of a lot better than getting pregnant,"

Illi wraps her arms around you, lining up as much of her skin with as much of your as she can manage. "We can stay here till it works,"

"I do, I do, I do, I do. Please, I wanna use the one that sorta looks like you, the purple one, please, gonna pretend it's you fucking me, Illi, please."

She inhales sharply. You hit the right notes. "You can't take your fingers out while you get it."

"Wait, I gotta..." You shuffle around the phone so it's still pressed to your ear before you rummage through your drawer. "Found it!"

"Good, suck it for me."

You place it in your mouth and make a large slurp sound in hopes it'll travel through the phone and Illi can hear it.

"Still fingering yourself, baby?"

"Uh-huh" The noise is muffled around the silicon and the reminder encourages you to up the motion.

"Good, here's what you're gonna do, you're gonna take the dildo out of your mouth and put it up to your cunt, you're only allowed to remove your fingers when I say you can use the dildo, alright?"

You pull the dildo out of your mouth and move it south. "Yes, Illi."

"Such a sweet slut for me." She bites back a groan, you wish you were in charge so you could force her to be loud. "You want me to tell you what I'm doing?"

"Please." So far it's all been talk of you, your lack of knowledge of what she's doing has made your mind spin in all sorts of dirty directions.

"I don't know if you remember, but last time you were over here you forgot your panties."

"Forgot" your ass, you know she shoved that pair away in one of her piles of shit while you weren't looking.

"You found 'em, babe?"

"Mhm, wanna guess where they are?"

"Are they 'round your clit?"

"Fuck, so smart baby." She groans loud and unabashed, "Yeah, I'm fuckin' your panties."

"Illi," You rock on your fingers, dildo waiting for the word. "Illi, please."

"Do it, baby. Fuck yourself for me."

You let a large high moan escape when it slides in. Overdone? Perhaps, but swear you can hear how Illi speeds her hand in response.

"How's it feel baby?"

"So good, so so good. Fuck. Wanna just stay on it all day everyday when I can't be with you."

"Don't go too fast."

You let your annoyance come in the form of a long whine, bringing your thrust to a painfully slow in-and-out.

"You gotta do something for me first, baby."

"What?" You'd do anything if it meant getting to

"Say thank you."

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for letting me fuck myself. Thank you for telling me how. Thank you for helping me. Illi, Illi, thank you. Thank you so much baby. Thank you for letting me use my dildo. Thank you for using my panties. Thank you, thank you thank you."

You hear her heavy breath over the phone, imagining how she must be forcing herself to regain control after your shameless dirty talk.

You remember the outfit. Your friends all thought they were hillarious for suggesting slutty zombie cheerleaders and non-slutty zombie jocks. You had repurposed an old uniform, one that was a little too small and caused your tits to spill out a tiny bit. At the time you remember hating the costume because all it brought was way too much attention from drunk guys who couldn't take a hint.

"I didn't see you that night," You would've remembered if Illi was at that party. She takes up more space in your brain than cheer, school, and your family combined.

"Costume," She's sunk maybe halfway in. She's slow, like she's going to make love to your tits. "Mask, didn't take it off,"

"But you saw me,"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck, I wanted you then,"

"What'd you wanna do?"

"This," She's close to being fully seated. "Wanted to fuck your tits so fucking bad. Wanted to feel 'em squeezed around my dick,"

At her words you push your boobs even closer together, increasing the pressure on Illi. She lets out a broken moan and finishes her slide in. You can see her head poking between the top, fuzzy in the edges of your vision.

"How'd you wanna do it?"

"I, uh, I…"

"C'mon Illi," You stick your tongue out and flick it down, just catching the very tip of her cock. She bucks out slightly at the touch. "What was your big plan?"

"Fuck," She's sliding out, faster than earlier but still not fast. "I, I watched those guys flirt with you. Wanted t'show you w-what real flirtin' looked like," Back in, quicker. "Would've, have g-gotten you a-a new dr-rink. P-put an extra shot or two, get y-you all, all drunk. S-smoke too, we c-could've go-otten crossed,"

She's properly thrusting now, each one shaking the bed a little bit more from an increase in speed and strength.

"T-taken yo-ou to a b-bedroom, ki-kissed you, p-played w-w-with yo-ou. I-I wou-ouldn't t-take m-my ma-ask off tho-ough, lea-ave you w-wonderin' who-o I am. An-and then I-I'd p-pull your top o-off and f-fuck, fuck yo-our tits,"

She's close, eyes shut in pleasure and thrust desperate. You push your tits as tight as you can and stick your tongue out so she taps it each time she thrusts.

"W-would've b-b-been sososo p-pret-ty, my, ugh, my c-cum mi-mixin' w-with th-the b-blo-ood on y-y-your ti-its an-and then I'd-FUCK!"

She squirts all the way onto your tongue. White getting trapped between your boobs as she keeps moving. She keeps going till her energy runs out. You release your grip and globs of cum connect your skin to her like saliva.

"I… I should clean that up," As she speaks she lowers herself, asking permission.

"You should tell me what you'd do after," You put your hand on the back of her head, pushing her down to start cleaning up.

"After I would've left you. Let you think some asshole just used you," After each sentence she takes a big long lick, cleaning your chest off in stripes. "Traded costume with someone. Then find you. Comfort you, take care of you after some asshole man took advantage. Take you back to my place. Let you sleep here since you don't want to be alone,"

She's moved up to picking up the small bits of cum that have hit your chin.

"Would've befriend you that way. Would've kept that night a secret just between us. Would've used that to help us get closer,"

She's done cleaning you and kisses you now, the lingering taste of Illi's cum on her tongue mixing with the lingering taste of her sweat on yours.

"And then we would've been girlfriends,"

"Why didn't you then?"

"You left for a different party, one I was too lame for. And I didn't want to hurt you like that. Want you to know who I am when I hurt you,"

"How romantic. I want you to know it's me when I hurt you,"

She collapses onto you, her next words muffle from being pressed into your skin.

You've snuck a hand under shirt a while ago, brushing up and down her stomach. Her body hair turns as you move your hand, tickling the skin of your palm. You've been laying slow syrupy kisses on her neck and face for a while now, taking advantage of her focus on the movie playing to stake your claim.

Silently, not changing anything else you're doing, you lift her shirt. Illi's too engrossed to really notice, nor does she pay mind as your kisses trail lower and lower till you're between her boobs.

She's starting estrogen soon, once she heads out to college, and she's going to have a good rack. You can tell it already with the nice tits she already has. But you don't pay them much mind, the treasure you're after lays below them. You go down a straight line, the same path as an autopsy, laying wet sloppy kisses so there's a line of saliva left behind.

"Baby?" Her hand trails the curve of your ear. You catch it and press a soft kiss before returning to your task.

"Just watch the movie, Illi,"

You can tell she doesn't quite refocus as you continue kissing her stomach. There's so much of it to play with and you're running out of patience so you focus above where her womb would be. It's a nice hairy patch, perfectly shaped to point down to where you want to be more than anything else. You kiss the happy trail, leaving no piece of hair untouched by your lips. You move out of the way when you pull her panties down, revealing her perfect hairy girl dick. You kiss the head of it, precum spreading across your lips like chapstick.

"Don't ever shave," It doesn't need to be said, Illi has long since bitched about shaving and the expectation women do it, but you need her to promise you this.

"I won't. Not if you don't want it,"

You smile up at her, happy your girlfriend is so quick to submit to your whims. You have no doubt that if you change your mind (though that'll never happen as long as you live) she'd be just as quick to pick up a razor and shave herself silky smooth. It's a beautiful thing, to have Illi so ready to do whatever you want.

Now you're digging out the entire costume trunk, lingerie and latex and all kinds of accessories cover the bedspread. Illi would offer you her help but you shoved a ball gag after the spanking that she's drooling around.

Finally you find what you're looking for, holding it up for Illi to see.

It could generously be called a string bikini. Though from past experience Illi knows that her nipples will slip out from behind the little triangles of cow print and her clit will poke up over the matching thong bottom.

I think you got bigger since the last time you were my cow, might have to adjust these.

Sure enough when Illi tries to put on the top it stops a little above where here areola starts. You coo at Illi, bringing a blush across her face.

Aw, you must've been so little. Now look at your udders. You squeeze her tits like Illi can actually produce milk. Big and fat, perfect for a dairy cow. Matches your stomach too.

Illi inhales when you slap at her stomach, right where your tattoo is. It jiggles slightly, wobbling from your demonstration.

Kinda wanna leave you like this. Cute nipples ready for me to milk you whenever I want. You're clit's ready for me too. At that you rub at her clit, making Illi groan slightly. You bite your cheek as you think. 'Course the whole point of making you my cow was to dress you up. Kinda defeats that if I just put you in an ill fitting top. Plus, I wouldn't want just anyone to have access to this.

You twist Illi's nipple on that last word, clearly enjoying the way she squeaks. Illi blesses the fact she loves a sadist.

C'mon, let's finished getting you dressed.

You two have gotten good at this over the years, you just need to touch Illi or mutter a word for her to understand what you want. You clip on a black collar with a ring and put on the headband too, giving the illusion of Illi having cow ears and horns.

Kneel on the bed.

When Illi bends over the drool that's all over her chin drips down in one long strand. It breaks when she jolts from your hand placing itself on her ass.

Don't do that, I'm not gonna hurt you… You pull down her panties …yet.

There's the click of lube opening. Illi knows what's coming next but still tenses when it hits her crack, cold against the hot flesh of her ass. Your other hand joins, rubbing the lube up and down in between her cheeks before you finally spread her open. You blow air across the slicked up surface, setting goosebumps off across Illi's skin.

You add some more lube, then stick the tip of your finger in. Don't cum is all the warning you give before sinking down to the knuckle. It's a little too fast, and you don't give Illi much time before the second one enters and you start scissoring, but that's how she likes it.

All too soon the two fingers remove themselves and Illi whines in disappointment and confusion. You shush her, rubbing your hand gently across her sore ass.

Y'know what I would change about our lives, Illi?

Illi shakes her head and makes a noise in confusion. There's nothing Illi could think of that would make her life with you better.

I would've made you get your tattoo right here. You grab at her cheek, right at the fleshiest part and pull. That's where all the other farmers brand their cows, right on their flank.

Illi tries to make an apologetic noise but it turns into a moan when something pushes against her hole.

Would've made my life a hell of a lot better. Give me the perfect spot to aim for when I hit you, for one. Hit you there till you're so black and blue you can't read my name anymore. You're pushing the item in. Illi can tell it's not your fingers, it must be a toy. If I had a dick I would know where to shoot my load when you made me pull out. And if you ever ran off to someone else they'd seem my claim on you, know who they're supposed to bring you back to.

You're done sliding the item in, the base stopping it from going any further. Illi clenches around, trying to see if she can recognize it from the shape.

It's a surprise for later. Now off the bed, cows don't get to be on the furniture.

When she gets off you thread your fingers through the ring and tug her down. Illi looks up at you, pulling the face she knows you love.

Your palm cracks against her face.