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Sensual Beginning [HotTexasCowboy x Juicy Fresh]

J

Juicy Fresh

Planetoid
Joined
Jun 14, 2010
Location
Canada
Before | | | After​

I had never really been interested in boys – ever – especially the popular boy's group; one of which my brother was a member of. I found them cocky, selfish, and generally mean people, even to their own kind. It was hard to talk about them that way since my older brother was one of them, but even he fell victim to the clique's vicious attitude. Nevertheless, boys were the least of my worries or my focus – I was solely concentrated on school – everything else was unfortunately ignored; including fashion. This caused a lot of misery for me, since it was considered ugly and disgusting to not follow trends and spend 3 hours in front of the mirror a day making yourself look fake a 'pretty'. So my negative view on the Populars was pretty evident to the entire world – but no one expected me to agree to a date from the most popular football player in the school: Jake, not even myself. When the words 'yes' exited my mouth, I thought I was going to faint. Was it some weird subconscious crush I had? Some inner-conflicted fantasy about him? Whatever it was, it gave me the opportunity to prove to the school that I wasn't just some loser; that I could be beautiful and 'cool' too. It became a crazy obsession, almost overnight, to impress him. This would be the start of a new me.

I realized in order to impress, I couldn't be a prude – I couldn't be ignorant to relationships or even sex. But how is a virgin supposed to be a Sex Goddess in bed? It's a hilarious contradiction. How am I magically supposed to develop a sexual instinct without the experience? I needed a tutor, a mentor, not just the internet, to get me through this. But no one I knew was sexually experience, and I was too embarrassed and shy to ask a stranger or hire someone. So I asked the only person who thinks like Jake, and that was my very own brother! Weird? Maybe a little, and that's why it took me days and nights of contemplation before I had the confidence to ask for his help. Not to mention if he'd even agree or think I'm disturbed person. It's not like I'm even the least attracted to him. He's a good-looking guy, not to say he's ugly or anything... but he's my brother, my flesh and blood, it's not like it would be incestuous...

“Oh, (Insert Brother's Name Here). My lovely, caring, thoughtful brother...” I batted my eyelashes and spoke in the same whiny voice I always did when I wanted something important – it was usually a ride to somewhere typically nerdy like the library or a museum; something he always joked and made-fun of me for. “Don't ignore me and pretend like I don't want something, 'cuz I do. I always do.” I gave a nice big, angelically guilty smile and moved in front of him. “So listen, you know how Mom and Dad aren't going to be home for the entire weekend, and you wanted to have that huge house party and I said No, but you were going to have it anyways before I threatened to tell Mom, and then you got all pissed off and didn't talk to me and still aren't talking to me?” I said that all in one, on-going breath and by the end of it gave a breathless sign. Breathing back in, “So yeah. I have a proposal... a way to make amends but I need your... erm... help...” I looked away, my face beginning to flush before I even proposed my offer. Realizing I had gotten his attention; it was time to spill the embarrassing beans. “I will let you have the party... IF... you agree to teach me.” He gave a confused look, since I was usually the one to teach him despite our 2-year difference. “I know that sounds weird since I always seem to end up doing your homework...” I nudged in a joking manner, “But I really need your help... with Jake... I know you don't want me dating him but I will be... the only problem is...” I bit the corner of my lip and turned my back to him. I started to pace myself in the kitchen before finally spitting it out, “I don't know anything about sex.” I said nothing further, I let the statement simmer. There was an intense awkward silence between the two of us. I didn't even want to turn around and see the expression on his face... but I had too, so I turned around. “It might seem weird at first, but who else am I supposed to go to? I can't just go on Craigslist and ask for a sex teacher – I'll get raped.” I pouted, in a semi-joking, semi-serious way. “And who better knows the... field... than you? Plus, you're his best friend – you know what, you know, turns him on... What he likes... all you have to do is teach me how to do all the things he likes?” This wasn't going to work. I could see the great unease on his face. It was over; everything... my relationship with my brother, my respect out the window, my chance with Jake – all flushed down the toilet along with my pride. I was willing to lose everything that made me, me; my independence, my virginity, my modesty, my innocence, my self-morals – something I had suddenly become so desperate to lose – all in the name of a pathetic puppy love.
 
Bailey was already in a sulky mood when he came home from school. After all, this was supposed to be an open weekend, the parents out of town, leaving him in charge of "baby sister" and free to indulge himself in party time. But some news from the gang at school had soured him a bit. Jake himself didn't tell him, but other members of the circle snickered to Bailey that Jake had hit on his sister, and she'd agreed to go out with him. Bailey knew Jake was a player, a guy with his sights on running up his score. All the girls in school swooned over him, the most handsome and studly guy on campus, star of the football team, yadda yadda. Bailey knew Jake took full advantage of it to charm whoever he liked, date 'em, fuck 'em, and move on. Bailey didn't get why Jake would be interested in Lauren, except that, now that she'd lost the braces a little back, she didn't look half bad, if only she'd make an effort, which he knew was beneath her sense of herself.

Speaking of which, she'd pulled a proper little snit about his party, threatening to tattle to the parental unit, probably getting him grounded, which would put a serious damper on his own social life for at least a month once they got home and got the word from little snitch-bitch. Bailey had had to put up with her little sister antics for years. So, any protective instincts he had were always at war with typical sibling conflicts. Some of those tensions had even grown as they both grew up. They couldn't share a bathroom the last year or so, and they both knew why. Under the shapeless clothes, he knew she wasn't a geeky little girl anymore.

Now, as they finished up the dishes after dinner, she was pulling her sweetly-asking-for-a-favor act. He'd heard it a hundred times before, and it wasn't doing much against his funk. He was drying and stacking as she made her pitch, and the more she made clear what she was asking for, the more he felt his ready-to-be-peeved mood shift into real shock. Sure, she was backing off on letting him have a party, but he lost sight of that the more he heard of what she wanted. Sex coach? Was she serious?

When she came to a stop, he carefully wiped off one of the last plates and placed it in the cupboard before turning back to face her. "Two little words, little sister. Are you listening? N. O. Did you get that? Your all-A's on spelling tests, you get my meaning?" He grabbed the last glass to dry, his gestures sharp and forceful reflecting his tension and trace of anger.

But once he put the glass up, he whirled back around to her. "I don't get why you even want to go out with Jake, anyway. You know what kind of guy he is." He's... like me, he found himself thinking. Yeah, I'm a player too, but not to the extent of Jake. "You know what he wants, and once he gets it, he'll move on. It would have to be something special to bring him back for more." That last bit was something he'd blurted out without thinking. 'Something special', in a way, had been exactly what she'd been hinting at, before. He cleared his throat with a trace of awkward embarrassment, and turned away to close the cupboard door, so that he wouldn't have to look at her for a second.
 
“Well, if you want to get technically, N.O. Aren't words, they're letters. N is the 14th letter and O the 15th letter in the alphabet.” I paused for a short while, giving a big, innocent geeky smile – as if I was purposely trying to look ugly and annoying. “But as you insist, I have very well listened to those... words you have just made clear. The answer is a No, I get it. But... that's not good enough for me.” I trailed my hand across the kitchen counter. The kitchen was fairly large, with a long outstretch of marble counter with a nice-shaped island in the middle. Our parents were rather wealthy – I guess they had to be to support your expensive lifestyle. I was the child to balance the dept out; having minimal costs on the family check book. It was mostly on thrift shop books and I only went shopping when I out-grew something. I jumped up onto the counter and sat on the edge. “You won't even do it if I agree to keep my mouth shut about the party? I will even let you bring illegal booze... which is illegal, if I forgot to mention that. AND... AND!!! I'll let you play the music as louddddd as you want, even though the police can ticket us for noise pollution. But I'll let it slide for this weekend!” I sounded so proud of my little offer. But seeing it's lithe effect I frowned a bit. “Don't make me beg, it's already embarrassing enough that I have to ask my older brother for sex advice...”

I paused a bit, leaning my head to the side as I sighed and thought of your works on Jake. It was all too true. Jake was a jackass, a player... He used and abused in order to gain for himself. And yet I was falling for it. I just felt an intimate connection with him. “Things will be different this time. I'm not like the other slu- … girls... I'm not like the other girls Jake has dated. I'm not into myself. I'm more interested in Moliere than I am in Lady Gaga! He could have anyone he wants, why ask out someone like me? Unless he actually likes me.” I smiled, blushing a bit. “Plus, this wasn't just spur of the moment. We have spoken before. He's been over at least a hundred times. What's the big deal? Maybe I will be something special. I will definitely have more of a chance if I'm not a total idiot in bed!” I pranced off of the counter and approached you. I placed my hands together and pouted. “Please?” I paused, with no success. “Pretty please? PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE?” Now I was just getting damn right obnoxious. I got down on my toe knees and grabbed the material of your pants. “Super pretty please with a cherry on top!!!” Shaking your leg, I realized just how ironic that last statement was. Literally, with a cherry on top.

“You're the only one I can trust with this. You're the only one who won't judge and who actually knows about the subject. Who better to ask than you? You know everything that Jake likes. You can help me impress him... help me make him like me!” That sounded ever so pathetic. But in a way, it was true. “He's not going to like this boring girl forever!” I spoke as if there was something wrong with me, but to myself, I had begun to think there really was something strange. After all, I was still a virgin – and many girls I knew were not. I didn't want to be weird anymore. I didn't want to be that nerd.
 
I shook my head as she responded to my "No". There she goes, I thought, right into full-Nerd mode. Showing off your superior knowledge and culture and all that crap, like that was what a guy like Jake really was interested in. But that wouldn't be the end of it. I'd seen you like this before, when you'd fixed your mind on something you wanted and nothing could shake you loose of it. On and on about the party. Hell, truth is, I'd never expected the party idea to come off, really. The earlier threats to blab had just been par for the course, as I saw it. But now it was practically an open ticket. Illegal booze! Like that was supposed to make me roll over and pant like a puppy!

Still, if a good party came off, Jake would be here. Maybe he'd just take you into a dark room, fuck you, and that would be the end of this nonsense. 'Cuz once he got his score, I knew Jake would be on to his next conquest. Why did Jake want my sister? I thought again. There were pep rally girls he hadn't bagged yet, after all, and senior sluts a lot sexier than you.

"Moliere?" I snorted. "Jake wouldn't know Moliere from the Mole People. You think that's what he's after?" Yeah, Jake had been over a hundred times... to see ME. If you knew the kind of comments he made about you once we were alone in my room, playing cards and furtively passing around a joint one of the guys had sneaked in... I could say a lot of things to hurt you, I realized, and part of me thought it was best to nip this little romantic fantasy in the bud. You'll get hurt, but in the end, I didn't want to be the one to hurt you. And your mention of the classics got me thinking another way. Jake needed to make some grades if he was going to qualify for his football scholarship. What better way than to have some sophomore squeak doting on his cock with goo-goo eyes while doing his homework? I wouldn't put it past Jake... And still I kept it to myself.

Once you started begging, I started to feel really disgusted. It wasn't like having a girl on her knees begging for sex, wanting to play some sort of submissive game; that was one thing. This was just pathetically childish. I mean, once you got past that, I had to admit you sounded pretty sincere, almost something I could sympathize with. Everything told me this was not going to end well, but I threw my hands up, slid away from your clutch on my leg, and backed away.

"Look, first of all, never never ever do this 'pretty please cherry on top' crap. You look and sound like a five year old, and that is NOT sexy." I huffed a bit, crossing my arms and staring down at you. You are going to get hurt either way, I thought, but maybe it would help you do better the next time. Get you out of your, whatever it is geek trap you'd put yourself in. "Okay, full party, booze, music up to eleven! And I'll, uh, answer some questions. That's all. Okay?"
 
It didn't really quite add up; why Jake wanted me. I was the bottom of the food chain for guys like him. The Populars being the sharks, and I just being a small fish they can scare and molest with fear. Somehow, he was still serious about the whole ordeal. I had been asked out before, a sham of course. It was a way to make fun of me... a way to make me feel even more pathetic. It worked once, but after that once I was quick to learn from my mistakes and never let them do it again. But what about this time? What if it was a joke? I knew it wasn't, but I had originally said No over and over again. He had to chase me for a good month or so before I finally agreed to give him a chance. Can you imagine that? A nerd giving a Popular a chance, not the other way around. He tried so hard, I figured if it was a joke it would have been too much time and effort. Even if he wasn't serious and just wanted a score, at this point, I really didn't mind. It's better to score with a looker than to settle for something in my own league... which quite frankly has almost nothing that is worth wild.

“In all defense to sir Poquelin...” I was talking about Moliere, his real last name. “His works are quite extraordinary. His comedy is truly one of true value. Much more considerate than the garbage comedy we have today. Every think maybe he could like it if he gave it a chance? Ignoring the fact that his works are in French...” I shrugged my shoulders, giving the suggestion but knowing it was meaningless. “But regardless, I know that's not what he's after. All this time, and you still think I'm dumb enough to fall for a fool move like that? You don't think I know full well he's after what you guys call 'a piece of ass'. A term that still disturbs me, but knowing Jake I know he'll want it at some point or another. Plus, what do I have to lose?” I paused, horrible choice of words. Horrible. “It's either I take this opportunity from Jake or have to lower even MY standards for someone like Calvin.” I shivered at the idea – literally. I twitched as my body shook at the thought of him. “Sure, he's intelligent, but he seems to not take human hygiene into consideration.”

When you backed away with your hands up, I smiled a bit. I slowly rose from my knees and crossed my arms in a sort of 'I knew it' type of way. Smirking, I replied, “I certainly hope a 5 year old is not sexy. That would be much disturbing, Barley. Much disturbing.” I leaned my lower back against the counter, standing comfortably a good distance from you. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. Not the actually learning part – but the dealing with your attitude part. It was obvious we clearly had some conflict and friendship problems. We were not really friends, and barely siblings. We lived in two different worlds sometimes it seems. But I couldn't say I didn't love you, because after all, in the end, you are still family. “This is my problem, I don't know what sexy is. My definition of sexy and your definition of sexy are very different. I don't think disgracing your body by putting it in belittling clothes to be sexy, but maybe the rest of the world does. I don't own any clothes that could be remotely close to attractive on Jake's standards, or even yours. I can't just go out there and buy them, because I haven't got the slightest clue where to start.” I paused, deeply sighing. This wasn't going to work. It didn't seem I was getting any close to a break. Until it slipped. A few questions? In exchange for the party. No, no. I was going to need way more than that. But I guess it was a start. “A few questions? Are you kidding me? Yeah that'll do it!” I blurted sarcastically, “All you need are a couple of answers and BOOM you'll be a Sex Queen, congratulations!” Unfolding my arms, I stormed passed you. “Forget it. Forget I even asked. I guess I'll just stay a nerd forever.” The stomps of my feet against the stairs could be heard from across the room. I disappeared into my room and slammed the door shut.
 
As usual, you knew just how to push my buttons and piss me off. Starting with "Barley" and moving on until you stormed off in a snit. Why do I even bother, I thought, but something else slipped through in all the ranting. She's ready, I thought. You've reached that point where you actually want to be a girl and not just a brainiac; want to get with boys, want to get laid, even. And the whole idea scares you, makes you feel inadequate. It had never seemed that hard to me to grow up through that phase. Maybe it was because of the guys, like Jake, I hung out with. We joked around about it so much, thinking about, talking about girls and sex, it just seemed easy to get going once the girls started showing an interest back. I had to admit, thinking back to my first few encounters, what a pathetic jack-off I must have been before I got the hang of it. And it must be way tougher for you at this point.

So I followed up the stairs, and shoved open your door, taking my turn to slam it behind me. "Okay, dweeb, first lesson for free. Listen up. You talk too much - no, that's not the right word. You lecture people. Like with that whole Moliere thing downstairs. Anytime you encounter someone you figure is dumber than you, you have to let them know it - in excruciating detail. Seriously, think about the message you're sending: 'I'm smart, you're stupid, isn't that sexy? Want to make love?' Nothing turns a guy on like being called a dumb bonehead. So, if that thought crosses your mind when you're talking with Jake, try to show a little diplomatic discretion, okay?"

I let that sink in, expecting the instant retort. But maybe, just maybe you'd listen, take it seriously for a second, and I could continue.
 
I had crossed my arms and had a quite bitchy expression on my face as I did so too. I looked up to the side as you went on and on about how I make people feel stupid. I stopped being snobby for a moment and just started to laugh a bit. I placed my face in my hands momentarily and arose with a smile. I had so much to say but I wanted to let you finish – also, it was almost an honor to be seen as superior and to make people feel stupid. Usually they were really stupid, or just lacked the engagement to learn and etc. But I did know a lot more than most people, even more than many adults. It's just because I loved too many things.

But still, I kept my mouth shut. When you finished, I pointed my finger out and opened my mouth. But nothing came out. Not even a breath came. That's because I was second-guessing myself and thinking about what I should say. There was a strange silence before I lowered my finger. “I'd just like to point out that I'm flattered at how you feel stupid compared to me, truly, flattered.” I smiled, giving a sort of wink-wink, nudge-nudge type of remark. “But, I understand where you're coming from. I just can't help myself. I feel I need to make-up for what people don't know.” I tapped my leg anxiously. “So, lesson one, tone down the smartness. Lesson two?”

It was true though, I knew too much. My brain was too active when it came to things most people have no interest in. I automatically assume the person will enjoy my knowledge as much as I, even though in most cases people don't even care in the slightest bit. It was just something I was going to have to learn to suppress.
 
Well, that was progress, I thought. The fact that you were willing to even listen without rejecting my suggestion out of hand actually surprised me. That made me tone it down a bit.

"You know a lot of stuff, sis. I'm not saying to play dumb. There's a time and a way to offer people interesting things they aren't aware of without making it seem like a lecture, like almost a put down. And one thing to consider: You know a lot that other people don't, but you need to take into consideration that they know stuff you don't, too. Things they were more interested in, and you just weren't. Like, I dunno, fashion or make-up, or sports, or... well, sex."

Heart-to-heart was different for us, especially the last few years. We hadn't had the kind of relationship where little sister goes to big brother for serious advice. You were smarter than me, at least about school stuff, got better grades, made mom and dad proud and happy and all that. While I was more the jock and party guy and kind of lackadaisial about school work. Fact is, it bored me a lot of the time. Classes always seemed so slow to me, the teachers hammering in the same points over and over, wanting you to admire some dead writer from six hundred years ago. I read a lot, people who knew how to tell a good story in language that was modern. Music that wasn't designed to put you to sleep, lively dances and even good show tunes. So I knew more about Robert Ludlum than Chaucer, Jersey Boys than Shakespeare. And science fiction more than that Harry Potter crap. Those were just my things.

"Anyway, okay, Lesson Two," I started, then hesitated. What is lesson two? Then it came to me. "You don't have to dress like a slut, but you don't have to hide your assets, either. I'm sure you've got nice hips and curves and, you know, boobies, but you'd never know it covered up by those bulky sweat shirts and baggy pants. What's so bad about something more form-fitting? I'm not talking about leotards, but something to let the guys know there's actually a female body under there." I took a glance at your closet door. "What have you got in there, anything that doesn't have an Ivy League college name on it?" Maybe we needed to go shopping, I thought, and realized how weird an idea that sounded on the face of it. Me taking you to a clothing store and helping you pick out nice, even sexy outfits.
 
“Alright, alright, alright, alright!” I threw my hands up in the air, “I get it, I get it!” I gave a loud sigh, “Other people to me are handicapped but to the world, I am actually the handicapped one.” I sighed again; I got the message. I was beginning to feel the loser-toll and just home much I was different from the rest. I felt like crap already and the whole lack of experience, or lack of anything attractive was making me feel the worst. “So, I don't have any fashion, I don't own any makeup, and.... as we both know, absolutely no knowledge in being in the least bit attractive. That you do NOT have to continually point out to me.” I gave an annoyed frown to show how I clearly, clearly... CLEARLY got the message.

I stood up from sitting on the bed and jumped on to it, standing up on my mattress. I showcased the wall my bed was against. “Posters... LOTS of posters... ANIME posters...! Posters of Rembrandt and Da Vinci!” I skipped off the bed went over to my bookshelf. “A bookcase... A bookcase with books.” Not only did I have a bookcase in my room, but it was filled to the brim. “Lots and lots of books. Books not of Twilight but of Shakespeare and Harry Potter.” I then opened up my closet door, where inside, hidden was another bookcase. “And here are the rest of my books. The one's I've read so many times that I can rehearse off the top of my head. Yes, I am a nerd. And intellectually, I will always remain a nerd. I just need to learn more than being a nerd. I need to become a model, who just so happens to know a lot of nerdy things.” I paused.

Leaning my back against the giant mirror which was plastered on the door of my closet, I looked over to you with a sense of hopelessness. “I have nothing in my wardrobe that is sexy, believe me. But for the record, not all of my clothing has school names on it...” I shifted my eyes, “I have cosplay costumes too...” I shrugged my shoulders. I turned to face the clothing hanging from the closet. “Sweatshirt...” I tossed it onto the floor. “Sweat pants...” I tossed it on the ground, too. “Hearts t-shirt, straight-cut jeans, Harry Potter shirt... Sakura-Naruto costume... Rukia cosplay... Gothic Lolita dress... Under-top for the dress...” That was it. The ocean-blue floral lace shirt laying on top of everything. The only thing that had a chance.

(Ps. the under-top is the same shirt as in the 'After' picture of Lauren)
 
This is not going to work, I thought, as I watched you launch into your tantrum. Every bit of advice I have to give just generates a huge outburst of self-loathing and cruel sarcasm. At the same time, you seemed to be attacking your preferences and hating anyone who didn't share them. "Sis," I tried to interrupt a couple of times, but you weren't listening. I shook my head and started to rise as you started emptying your closet in a heap on the floor.
"Look, I'm giving up-" I started to say, then paused.

"Hold on a second, sis," I stopped, and said it loud enough to try and break up your rant. I leaned down and picked up what you'd described as an undertop. "You know," I said, spreading it by the shoulders to look at it, "this could be pretty hot looking." I held it up toward you, trying to picture what you'd look like in it. "I mean by itself. Kinda revealing compared to what you're used to, but that's supposed to be the point, isn't it?"

"Come on!" I urged, tossing the garment to you. "Try it on and let's take a look. You want to turn Jake on, right? Well, this oughta do it. Let me have a look."
 
“This? ...” I paused, looking down on the lace top in total confusion. “THIS? This thing right here?” I pinched the corned of the sleeve and waved it lightly even though it was in your hands. “But- but... it's barely clothing...” My face crumpled into an unimpressed and rather skeptical expression. But with a few more thoughts and short debates I took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Fineeeee.” I snatched the under-top from your hands. “I'll try it on. But this wasn't designed to be worn as a top. It's just a means of costume clothing decoration. It can barely even be considered a shirt.” Despite my denying words, I was practically waltzing my ass out of my bedroom and into the bathroom. My voice still whining as I closed the door.

I was halfway through changing when I realized I had no pants to wear with it. I only have the loose bum pajama pants I had been loafing in the whole day. “Uhm... Barley... What do I wear it with? Like, what pants? Err- I kinda don't have anything.” I was talking through the door, in hopes that you would hear me. I looked at the top and all I could think of was 'by itself' and that's exactly what I did. I stripped off all of my tops, and put it on. But the thing looked ridiculous with my anime-printed bra so I removed the bra. I stared at myself in the mirror for a few moments, realizing a bit how much I had been hiding my body from the public. I undid my hair from my ugly, messy bun to let it down; something I almost never did (and if I did it was a long time ago). In a sad attempt to try and fix myself up in 5 minutes; I shook my hair up and scrambled through the bathroom drawers to steal some of Moms makeup. I found a lip gloss and some mascara, which was all I had the skills to put on without looking like a clown. I returned to the mirror. Debating whether I liked the look... I smiled. But then quickly switching back to an objective perspective. “I look like Britney Spears...”

I tossed the pajama pants away and finally opened the bathroom door. “Okay, I ditched the pants because it looked ridiculous. You'll just have to deal with the underwear until I find something else to wear...” I paused, extremely nervous for whatever reason. I had my arms crossed over my chest, since I wasn't wearing a bra. My legs were also pinned together, in a very self-reserved hidden manner (despite the clothing). “So... what do you think...?”
 
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