Chapter: Popsicle Theory

After a long day of school and finishing up homework, Sam and I are getting ready for bed. It's been three days since the incident, and she hasn't slept over since, so I'm hoping that there won't be any lingering tension or hard feelings about me 'tugging on her rod' while she was asleep, as she crudely put it.

I gather up my clothes for after my shower, along with a towel and another for my hair. Sam's in the shower at the moment, and I have to pee, so I decide that there wouldn't be much harm in me just going in really quick. She probably won't even notice, seeing as she's not the most observant of people out there.

Let's be honest, she's not even close. She's on par with a blind pet rock.

When I gently push the door of the bathroom open, a burst of steam hits my face and obscures my vision. After my eyes adjust, I see Sam – not in the shower. She's covered in what I'd assume to be sweat rather than water sitting on top of lid of the toilet, with a towel around her waist and a large erection gripped firmly in her right hand.

She expertly stretched it a few times before slowly working her hand up and down her long shaft, twisting as she went along. I was completely captivated at the sight of Sam handling herself and I got a burning feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard her low growling noise of pleasure escape her throat, as well as a stray whimper or two when she rubbed her thumb over her head.

Finally noticing me, Sam turned to view me with dark, heavily-lidded eyes and a light blush across the bridge of her nose. When she registered that it was actually me standing there and not some, I don't know, penis induced delusion, standing and watching her 'handling herself,' her eyes widened and her face went red with embarrassment.

"Carly, what are you doing!" she shrieked as her hand flew from her crotch and went to covering her erection up with the towel.

"What are you doing?" I reply, crossing my hands over my chest, trying to somehow convince her that I was the one who had the right to be asking questions and trying not to stare at the throbbing pole between her legs.

Sam's face went slightly less red and she bit her lower lip guiltily. "I'm trying to prevent morning wood."

I tilt my head to the side in confusion. "What's 'morning wood,'" I ask, using air quotes where appropriate. It sounded like some old-timey breakfast cereal that my grandfather in Yakima would thoroughly enjoy.

"An erection," she mumbles under her breath. "In my sleep."

"Oh," I breathe and my face flushes completely. I wring my hand together in nervousness and consider if saying what I'm about to say is wise or ladylike. "You know, I don't mind giving you hand jobs."

Sam's eyes widen and she looks like she's badly choking on her own saliva. She stands up, gripping the towel around her waist and erection, and reaches into the shower to turn the faucet off, in what I suppose would be an attempt to turn the temperature down in the steam-clouded bathroom.

"Well," she begins, running a stray hand through her blonde locks as she sits again. "You should." She's staring me straight in the eye, and it's making me nervous how her gaze flicks over the entirety of my body every few moments.

"Why?" I ask in defiance, challenging her stare with mine.

"I might start wanting to do things to you that I shouldn't," Sam nearly grits out, and it looks like her penis is trying to burst right out of the towel and into the free, open air. I shift my legs together as a mild discomfort seems to grow there. Are my jeans too tight?

"You should finish," I suggest as I eye her rigid tent. Sam's face looks nearly pained and I know she really wants to complete what she had originally set out to do. I see her look at me expectantly, and I just raise a brow at her. "Aren't you going to?" I prod.

"I will, when you leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," I say as I lean myself up against the bathroom door.

"I'm not much of an exhibitionist," Sam mutters, but she opens up her towel again anyhow, taking her swollen member in hand and begins to caress it once more.

"How does that feel?" I ask her as her face turns to one of immense pleasure.

"Good," she drawls, as her movements become more swift. It's actually exciting to watch and I want to participate, so I walk over to her and take hold of her penis, knocking her own hand off of the impressive limb. I straddle her lap and move my wrist as I pump her the same way I did the last time, only this time I wasn't as clueless.

"Shit, Carls," she moans, pushing both of her hands through her hair and bucking her hips into my palm urgently. Her toned stomach was covered in beads of water vapor and perspiration as the muscles clenched and unclenched with each thrusting movement.

Part of me began to wonder what sex would be like with her. I mean, like having her inside me and delivering all this raw force into my insides. I shudder, not wanting to find out if it would feel painful, or really good like people said it would.

I lick my fingertip and trace it over Sam's head slowly, and watch as she throws her head back in pleasure and her breathing becomes uneven. I reach to the left of the toilet and take some of the tissue off of the roll, holding it above Sam's head as she begins to ejaculate. While she's unloading, she releases a rather girl-like moan, which throws me off guard a little, but I prefer Sam as a girl, so it's actually a good thing.

Her breathing is deep and labored as she continues to stream her seed into the material in my palm. Her face is completely pink and there's a bit more than I remember there being last time, but I'm gathering that these are both good things when it comes to sexual things.

She pumps herself a few more times, allowing the last of the substance to escape her and she heaves a heavy sigh of relief, allowing a contented look to cross her features. Again, I feel satisfied seeing her once-erect penis leaning near-limp and tired to the side, nearly resting on her thigh.

"Carly," Sam breathes out, and touches my cheek gently, sending electric shocks through my skin all the way to the fiery, burning pit that was once my stomach.

"Sam," I answer, watching with interest as she attempted to catch her breath.

"We can't do that again," she breathes, but the look in her eyes is telling me something along the lines of 'I want to bend you over and do bad things to you.'

"Why not?" I ask, pouting. I was really starting to get the hang of this, too.

"Because it's bad, Carly. We're supposed to be best friends," she says, scooting me off of her lap and standing to turn the shower back on again. She slings her towel over the shower's railing, and turns away from me so that I can't see the front side of her naked body.

"Sam, I'm just helping you," I say, grabbing her arm and turning her around slightly. Her body is gorgeous, from top to bottom. And while I'm caught up with examining her, she takes her arm out of my grip and steps into the shower, ending our conversation.

--

When she emerges, she's dry and wearing a tank top and boy shorts. I can make out the outline of her you-know-what perfectly and it excites me a little as she approaches the bed with her confident, nearly dominating strides.

"So, what do I do if you have this 'morning wood' business and it's all over the place?" I ask as Sam climbs into bed beside me.

"Just wake me up and I'll take care of it," she says, unconsciously allowing her hand to wander down to her crotch and 'adjust' herself.

"Why can't I just take care of it? Is how I do it not good enough for you?" I ask, feeling suddenly extremely insecure.

"It's not that, Carly. You do… really good," she says after finding the right words. I just don't want you to. God forbid I wake up with another fruit scented cock," she jokes, giving me a lopsided smirk, which brought to mind the way that her tent would turn lopsided after I satisfied its needs, which sends a chilly shudder down my spine.

The way that Sam says the word 'cock' is really sexy. Just saying. "I can use different lotions," I offer, not wanting to give this debate up without a fight.

Sam laughs and pulls me into a tight hug, and I can tell she's being extra careful not to press me against her privates. "No, cupcake. Don't play with my penis anymore," she commands and I pout at her.

"Then what can I do with it?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. If playing was out of the question, I'm sure there was something I could do to help.

Sam's body seems to freeze a bit at my words, and I can tell that her mind was racing with things to tell me. "Nothing," she mutters, but her voice lacks the definitive sense of finality.

"Can I touch it?" I ask.

"No,"

"Can I stroke it?"

"Double-no."

"Can I lick it?"

"…"

"Sam?"

"No, you can't lick it."

There are only so many things that I can think of when it comes to appendages such as Sam's. I wrack my brain, but nothing strikes me as plausible. Suddenly, popsicles come to mind.

"Can I suck it?"

I feel Sam's body go completely limp behind me and I feel her make a 'thud' as she falls backwards onto the bed. I turn around and see that she probably passed out from blood loss from her head, because it was all redirected to her penis.

"I guess that's a 'no,' too," I mutter to myself, even though depending on how it's looked at, it could be seen as a big 'yes.'