V here! Woo! So who LOVED that saucy Bella that Katie managed to cook up?! I did!! I wonder if our dear sweet manwhore Edward felt the same... Let's see, shall we? As always, all things Twilight belong to SM. Katie and I are just helping them relieve - or is it create - some sexual tension? Haha! Leave the love, my behbehs!

PS - Katie's gotten a billion reviews, and I've gotten ONE. And it was from someone who DIDN'T like the story! Come on now people, you're hurting my feelers! Vanillabeans needs the lovin' too, you know!

Over and out,

V.


EPOV

Monday morning I awoke to the obnoxious sound of my phone receiving another text message. Christ. I looked at my alarm clock and tried to make out the glowing numbers through bleary eyes. The fuck does that say? 6:29. Who texts people at the ass crack of dawn any god damn way?

I grabbed my cell off my nightstand, and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, was shocked to read the display:

14 New Text Messages.

Son of a bitch. You cannot be serious.

I looked at my inbox and saw they were all from that dumb whore, Jessica Stanley. Wow, she's a special kind of cock hungry, isn't she?

I opened the very latest one, unable to conjure the least bit of interest.

Edward? Bby? Ur not upset w me r u? If u r im so sry for whtvr I did, plz 4give me. i miss u call me.

Jesus fuck. Not only is this bitch needy, desperate, and pathetic, but she's damn near illiterate. How on God's green earth did this simple bitch manage to make it to high school? Even half asleep, I was disgusted. Our public school system is a disgrace. If there is one fucking pet peeve I have, and okay, that's a lie, I have a ton, it's illiterate bitches.

I deleted my entire inbox without bothering to read the rest. I'd just get dumber trying to force myself to decipher that stupidity.

I rolled out of bed and walked butt-ass naked to my adjoining bathroom and took a quick shower. I threw a little wax into my hair and pulled and fluffed it around. I smirked at myself in the mirror. Bitches love sex hair.

I tossed on some perfectly broken in low-slung jeans and a white, collared, button down shirt. Simplicity was my signature style – I could pull that shit off like nobody's fucking business.

A pair of Timbs, and I was dressed and ready for a day of beating off chicks. I grabbed my keys and ran out the door. This shit was gonna be cake.


I looked at my watch. Shit. Almost time for third period. Jasper and I were sitting on the trunk of my Volvo in the school parking lot, windows open while The Clash played from inside the car. Jasper took another drag of his cigarette and passed me the flask of Jack he'd been swigging.

"Edward, my man, this is a truly fanfuckingtastic morning."

I snickered as the sweet taste of pipe tobacco mixed with Jack and toothpaste on my tongue. I couldn't stand the shitty over-processed, additive-ridden taste of regular cigarettes. I always rolled my own with flavored paper and pure pipe tobacco.

"Seriously, man. After that fuckin' bet you made with Emmett, I thought you were gonna be an asshole by now. A guy tends to act like a complete dickhead when he's going through withdrawal."

I couldn't help but laugh. This goofy motherfucker was seriously underestimating my control. "Jazz, the bet didn't even start eight hours ago. I'm not that much of a nympho."

"Semantics, my brother. Pure semantics."

We sat there for the rest of the song, finishing off the last of the flask and taking long drags off of each of our cigarettes.

Jasper finally spoke. "Edward man, can I ask you somethin'?"

I looked sideways at him, and I'll be damned if this goofy looking fuck didn't have on his serious face. That fucking hair was in his eyes and he was squinting at me like I was about to tell him the meaning of life.

"What's up, Jas?"

"I was just wondering, dude. I mean, I know you been in all the eligible puss in this town, and shit, if we're being honest, even the puss that's off the market, so I know you know what you're missing. I just wondered, well. Fuck. I mean, how can you even think you'll do it?"

I exhaled a slow train of smoke rings before looking back at him. "It's not really a big deal, to tell you the truth. You got yourself an Alice, man, you know what that's like. And that shit's great, Jas, it really is. That shit you have with that freaky pixie is fucking golden, I'm happy for you. But I'm sick of all these bitches. You gotta understand, they're dumb as god damn bricks. Not even regular bricks. Fucking stupid bricks. Bricks with brain damage. It's re-goddamn-diculous."

"Yeah, I got you on that man. But what I'm saying is, you don't have to marry 'em. I mean, you don't have to debate fucking philosophy to pork 'em, right?"

I narrowed my eyes at Jasper. This motherfucker was not going philosophical on me now, was he? "Nah, probably not. But that doesn't mean I want a bitch who's mentally stimulated by The Hills. Besides, there's not an exciting fuck in this school. They're all boring and tired, man. The bet's gonna be easy, because there's nothing to give up. There's not a bitch here that's as stimulating as my right hand, and that motherfucker doesn't talk nearly as much."

He laughed as he jumped off the back of the Volvo and pulled a full bottle of Jack out from under my backseat and focused on refilling the flask.

I looked at him with one crooked eyebrow. This drunk motherfucker here. "Seriously, Jas?"

He grinned back at me and shook his hair out of his eyes. "If I'm gonna watch the famous Edward fucking Cullen shoot down every piece of pussy I have forsaken in my quest for monogamy, I'm gonna be tanked while I do it. You're killing a little piece of every pubescent man in the world today, brother."

I shoved his drunk ass, still laughing, and walked toward my Biology class, not regretting my decision. There was nothing in this piece of shit school worth losing the bet over.


I flopped, half-drunk and half-annoyed, into my desk at the back of my Biology class. I knew I shouldn't have had a fucking half flask of straight Jack on an empty stomach. Fuck it, it's not like I'd need to focus in this pathetic excuse for an "honors" class.

I might as well have written all my answers in Crayola, the material was so dumbed down for the rest of the idiots around me.

SHIT, why do these desks have to be so god damned small? My thoughts were angrier than usual with the alcohol floating around in my brain while I wondered where the shit I was supposed to put my legs. Who the fuck makes these stupid chairs? Fucking oompa loompas? Christ Almighty, I am not in the mood to deal with this shit.

I couldn't seriously be going into pussy withdrawal this quickly, could I? I wasn't honestly getting pissy nine hours into forgoing fucking rights, was I? Shit.

I leaned back as far as I could in that fucking elf desk and extended my legs as far out in front of me as I could, while I interlaced my fingers behind my head. I went back to my old habit of staring at the ceiling and reciting long-ass poetry in my head, seeing how many lines I could get through at rapid fire before I stumbled and had to actually think about what would come next. I was debating Poe versus Ginsberg when the door yanked open more forcibly than it had been so far.

I kept staring at the water spots on the ceiling. I was just getting to I saw the best minds of my generation… when I heard a chorus of gasps go up around me. Well fucking hell. Did Yorkie have a Sani-Seat cover stuck to his ass again? I already had a chuckle ready for the little fruitbasket when I looked up and it died in my throat.

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

Standing directly in front of the door of douchebag Banner's dingy ass Biology class room like a fucking wet dream was the most golden, fucking epic piece of ass I had ever laid eyes on. Holy. Shit.

I half expected wind to start blowing and fat little angel babies to fall out of the fucking sky and start playing harps or some gay shit.

I felt my cock twitch in excitement as I looked at her. I noticed her fuck-me heels right away and imagined having them flailing over my shoulders while I fucked her pretty ass senseless. I looked up over her body, following the sexiest, most toned, longest legs I had ever seen. They flared out perfectly into full, round hips.

FUCK! Was this broad trying to kill me? I can't stand a skin-and-bones bitch – give me a chick with thighs and hips any fucking day.

Those sensuous come-hither hips trailed fucking beautifully into a tiny little waist, and the fullest, perkiest tits that any fake bitch had ever paid for. Note to self: Poke 'em. They better be fucking real.

All my fantasizing came to an abrupt halt when I got to her face. All that shiny please-touch-me brown hair fell in long soft waves around that face. I had a ridiculous urge to grab a fistful of it and smell it. Whoa – where the FUCK did that come from? Since when the fuck do I smell hair? Get it together, Cullen.

I knew something important was shot to shit right then, when I looked at her face. I just couldn't remember what it was.

Fuck. Me. That face. She had that perfect peaches and cream thing going, all creamy alabaster skin with perfectly pink flushed cheeks, and her mouth was kind of open, and I could just see the tip of her pink little tongue – exactly the way her face would look while she bounced on my cock. You know, minus the screaming.

Then I got to her eyes. My life is fucking over. She had these huge brown eyes, just looking like fucking Bambi with those long, thick eyelashes, and then all I could see was her looking up at me with my cock in her mouth, sucking me off and staring up at me with those fucking chocolate doe eyes.

And just like that, the wet dream started walking toward me. Not anywhere else in this god forsaken room, but right at me. I'll be damned if those perfect tits weren't bouncing, jiggly and full and fucking real.

And then, fuck me, she pulled out the chair right next to me. I was cursing every god I could think of when she sat down. I don't even know how she did it, but her perfect tits were in my face, and then she was setting her stuff down, and her delectable ass was in my face and she just smelled like fucking peaches and strawberries and an entire god damned fruit cocktail. I bit my fucking lip to keep from taking a bite out of her.

As if I weren't royally fucked sideways before, she had to go and put another nail in my coffin – she tossed all those shiny silky waves over her shoulder. And let me just say, normally, I'm immune to bitch tricks like the hair toss – but holy mother of god. The smell. It wasn't just peaches and strawberries. It was fucking peaches and sunshine and strawberries and shower-sex pussy and Saturday morning Thundercats and everything that was ever good in my life. My life is fucking over.

As she planted her perfect body in the chair I turned the fuck away as fast as I could, and stared at Yorkie. If I could think of anything to kill my raging hard on, it would be that ugly asshat.

Just when I was seriously debating stabbing each of my eyeballs out with my fucking Bic, Banner called the class to order. Thank you, you fat, sweaty, boner-killing son of a bitch!

And then, unfuckingbelievably, my torture got worse. Now the wet dream wasn't just shoving bamboo under my fingernails, she was stabbing my balls with an ice pick. FUCK. She was crossing those toned dancer legs toward me, and I couldn't see anything but how they would look wrapped around my neck while I tongue fucked her.

Then she was raising her hand and her tits were jutting out, and I couldn't see anything but how they would look sandwiching my cock between them while I tit-fucked her.

Then she was answering Banner's question, and her voice sounded like sex, and I couldn't hear anything but how she would scream my name while I pounded her from behind, and how that sex voice would sound raspy when her voice was all fucked away.

My life is over.

Banner's voice penetrated my thoughts from somewhere far away, "Yes, Bella. Adenosine Triphosphate is correct."

Bella. Her name was Bella.

Bella. Bella. Bella. And then all I could hear in my thoughts was how her name would sound when I asked her how my cum tasted. And told her to suck me harder. And if she liked when I pulled her hair. And how it felt to ride me. And if she wanted to be fucked harder. And if she wanted two fingers or three while I sucked her clit. And fuck me, I'm going to lose this bet.

Oh. Shit.

The bet. THE BET. There was a bet. I couldn't fuck her. Wouldn't fuck her. If I fucked this wet dream, this Bella, I would lose my car. MY CAR.

My life is over. God hates me.

Then I did the impossible. I turned my brain off. I shut out Banner, and and I shut out my own thoughts, screaming at me, and I shut off my olfactory nerve, still trying to tease me with peaches and I tried like hell to shut off my cock. That obviously just wasn't fucking happening, so I settled with what I had and stared across the room. At the clock, the wall, the floor, Yorkie's disgusting face, Newton's lame ass hair. At fucking anything but Bella the Erection Goddess sitting next to me.

I clenched and unclenched my fists as hard as I could, hoping the pain in my hands would keep my cock from jumping out of my pants and attacking her. That sure as shit wouldn't be fucking Kosher.

Get it under control, Cullen. This bitch isn't worth it. She's fucking clueless. She's just a chick, she doesn't control you. She's not all that fucking hot. Her tits aren't that great. Her legs aren't that perfect. Those thighs aren't begging to be wrapped around your waist while you fuck her up against a wall- SHIT!

Deep fucking breath.

So I sat there, in that stuffy little room, trying to smell my own soap and not the fucking olfactory orgasm coming from right next to me, yelling at myself in my own mind to keep it in my pants or lose my god damned car.

I told myself she wasn't worth it. Not fucking worth it.

And then I wondered why I wanted to slit the throat of every fucking asshole in the room noticing my peaches and cream Bambi in the chair next to me.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my jaw along with my hands and breathed through my mouth. Fuck this shit.

I am Edward. Fucking. Cullen. Whatever this bitch's spiel was, she was gonna have to change it real fucking quick, cuz I was keeping my god damn car.

As soon as the bell rang, I grabbed my shit and took off. I had to find Jasper, and that fucking full flask of Jack. I needed to roll a cigarette and smoke the everloving shit out of it, while whiskey burned my throat and I could concentrate on something other than bending my little doe-eyed Bella over the hood of my car.

I had to man the fuck up and play this the right way, or there would be serious fucking consequences that I was not prepared to face. I shook my head and strode purposefully toward the parking lot to get the liquor out of my car. I'd need something harder than fucking Pepsi to go with my lunch. Play it right, Cullen, I told myself.

Game fucking on.


Muahahahah! Let the fun begin! It would seem that we have two very hard-headed players here, hmmm? I wonder who's going to come out on top. Or underneath. Or sideways. Or on all fours... ;) Leave the lovin' and find out soon, shugga!

Vanillabeans here! My feelers are still hurt that my one, single, solitary review has been a not nice one. I'm so hurt that I might not be able to go on writing Edward POV. And for the love of god, WHAT WOULD BECOME OF THE STORY?!