Carly Shay
Sam walked in just when we knew she would. This time, she wasn't carrying her favorite turkey leg. Instead, she just walked in, immediately going after Freddie. "Fredward, the zoo just called and they said they wanted their wild ass back."
"Really, Sam?" I said, exasperated but trying to keep calm for the show. "Can't you just waltz in once without insulting Freddie?"
Sam thought, then shook her head. "Nope. Couldn't do it."
Freddie stood behind his computer. "We've got ten minutes."
Sam snapped her fingers and pointed to me. "Yeah, that reminds me Carls. I've got a hot date, tomorrow."
"Really? With who?" I said, barely able to hide the disappointment I knew was sure to come if I didn't speak immediately.
"A chick named Aura," said Sam, grinning broadly. "Man, is she hot! You should see this girl, Freddie. Maybe you should start dressing like her."
"Ha-ha," replied Freddie, fake-laughing.
"Anyway, we're going out for Chinese, so I'll need forty bucks."
"Sam!" I said, clearly remembering the time she'd tried to pay us back money she owed us.
"Relax, I've already got some money back home." Turning her head, she clearly muttered, "If my Mom hasn't spent it on another God-awful bikini, yet."
I pulled out my wallet and handed her the money, then looked down out of surprise. "Hey! Where'd my other forty go!"
"Compliments you so nicely, doesn't it?" said Sam to the money she'd taken from my pocket when I wasn't looking. Noticing my glare, she looked up and said, "What?" She can be so naïve, sometimes, but to be honest, sometimes she can be such a turn-on when she's like that. "What?"
My cunt started throbbing, so I immediately sat down in a chair and drained the rest of my water.
Freddie piped up at that moment, luckily. "Forty seconds, guys. Places."
Sam and I started running in place and loosening up our joints, waiting for the show to start. "In five…four…three…two…" Freddie gave us the cue, and we immediately began.
"Where's Carly?" said Sam, looking as though she was surveying from afar.
"Here I am!" I chimed, jumping around like a maniac. "But where am Sam?"
"Here am Sam!" said Sam, immediately going into a rhythmic, pulsing dance I barely recognized.
"So," I said, hopping backward away from the camera. "We've set up an excellent little prank for this episode."
"Be ready, iCarly viewers, because it's time for…" She pressed a button on her amazing remote. "Messing With Lewbert!"
Freddie immediately extended the mechanical arm holding the TV set above the car and activated the screen.
"Our doorman is so annoying," I said.
"So we set up a fake pizza delivery," continued Sam.
"…Featuring our very own, wonderful Principal Franklin," I concluded, immediately staring at the screen.
Principal Franklin walked onscreen in a pizza delivery man's outfit, looking oddly handsome. "Pizza delivery for one…" Principal Franklin looked down at the tab. "Bartie May."
"No one by that name lives in this building!" roared Lewbert, the wart on his face seeming to throb in anger.
"But I was told that the delivery was to go to this building," replied Principal Franklin, setting the pizza down. "Could you watch this for a moment, please? I have to check with my boss."
"Make it quick!" Lewbert looked down at the pizza, and as Principal Franklin walked out, holding his pearPhone to his ear, Lewbert opened the box and took a slice of the pizza, kindly provided by my culinary-genius of a brother, Spencer. He stared at it a minute, looked to see if anyone would be coming in, sniffed it, and took a bite. For a moment, he was happily chewing. Eventually, his face twisted and he spat the pizza out, backing away. "Yuccckh! That's gross!"
Sam and I laughed as the screen retracted and we turned to face the camera. "You've got to admit, something in there made you at least crack a smile!"
"Or a mirror when you looked in one, this morning!" Sam added to Freddie. "Off topic a little, Carls, but don't you think when you look and listen closely that Principal Franklin seems a little like that Elf on Star Trek?"
"Vulcan," corrected Freddie from behind his camera.
"Freddie, shut your face! You are behind the camera." Sam shook her head and said, "Anyway…" She acted surprised when the strobes came on and the voice announced, "Random Dancing!"
Sam and I immediately jammed to the club music that pulsed through the studio.
Sam Puckett
I slept over at Carly's again that night, dreaming of a beautiful, moonlit drive after sunset, my eternal bucket of chicken wings keeping me company.
I don't remember if it was my fourth wing or my seventy-fifth, but when I looked up, Carly materialized out of nowhere and walked up to me, her bush plainly visible in the pale moonlight, and I could see she was horny. Now, sure, chicken wings can turn me on a lot, but Carly's bare body…I offered her a drumstick. She sat and smiled, biting into the soft, juicy meat, not minding that I joined her in the indulgence of the same leg. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it.
When we'd cleaned the bone, I randomly tossed the bucket and sat there, looking at her, those perky little tits of hers teasing me, inviting me. I looked up, and she closed her eyes, mouth wide open, smeared in barbecue sauce. I licked the area around her lips a little bit, even though I didn't entirely rid her face of the sauce, and then put my tongue in her mouth, running it across those pearly whites. My God, this was so damn hot. She was so…wow. Carly lie on her back and spread her legs, parting the folds that I'd always wanted to part, myself, and bent closer. The chicken bone still in my hand, I massaged her clit, and Carly yelped so fucking loud I was instantaneously wet.
I woke up at the feeling of something soaking my honey hole, and because it was morning I looked down to see the cum, still warm and sticky from my violent orgasm, staining the couch. I smiled, sitting and stretching.
I noticed that it was only nine, so I cleaned the filthy little mess I'd made.
Carly came downstairs not long afterward, fully dressed and smiling. "How'd you sleep, Sam?"
"Not bad," I said, feeling the vibrator bump against my leg. I got out the carton of orange juice and started to chug it down. "How'd you sleep?"
"Violently," said Carly, emphasizing the word and looking away. "I just kept tossing and turning. I couldn't stop thinking."
"About what?"
Carly avoided the subject by saying, "So what's that girl look like? The one you're going out with, today?"
"Aura…" I said, loving the name, somehow. "Man, she's so hot! Skirts shorter than you'd wear, excellent choice of fishnets…loves black." I looked at my best friend. "She's sweet, y'know? Really seems to know what I'm thinking."
"That's good you'd find someone who understands you," said Carly, obviously thinking I didn't hear the hurt in her voice. Something was up, but I wasn't sure what. I'd heard the same tone in her voice last night, too. "Is she pretty?"
"Like I said. She's hot! Nice ass, just enough tits."
"You didn't-?" "No," I said, meaning it. "No, I didn't have sex with her. She's hot enough I'd want to, but…not yet."
"Well," said Carly, disregarding the orange juice carton and going straight to the fridge, "I'm proud of you."
I was starting to get pissed by now. "Carls, why don't you just fess up?" I said, slamming the orange juice down on the counter. "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing," said Carly, pouring a glass of milk. "There's nothing bothering me." She was using the tone that told me otherwise.
"Just say it. There's something bothering you, Carly! Don't you think I've known you well enough the past seven years to be able to tell when you're pissed about something?" Carly's hand trembled with the milk carton still in it, fridge open partway. She was still looking at me, but she didn't bother to do anything. She just stood there. "Yeah, Carly. There's something you're so Goddamn angry about! Just spit it out and tell me, already!" I was speaking my last words as calmly as I could, but I just couldn't keep it quiet much longer.
"Fuck yeah!" said Carly, finally, dropping the milk carton and forgetting about the fridge door. "I'm pissed that my dickhead lesbian of a friend is going out with someone without asking me what I feel about it!"
"Carls, what's all this yelling and cussing about?" said Spencer, walking into the room.
"Shut up, Spencer!" said Carly, wheeling to face him. He backed off, and Carly continued ranting to me about my supposed mistakes. "You never asked me a damn thing about what I thought about your dating this girl!" she screamed. "You never asked what I really thought about it!" She moved forward and punched me, and because I loved this girl so damn much, I just took it. It hurt, but not as much as what she was saying. "I tried not to be too obvious about it, and I thought you'd be intelligent enough to figure out something so fucking simple, but I guess not, Sam! I knew there was something obvious in something I said! I tried not to let you know!" She shook her head, bit her lip, and a tear ran down her cheek. "Fuck you, Sam!" Carly turned and ran upstairs, and I heard her door slam a minute later.
Spencer turned to me. "Did you do something she'd have a reason to be angry about?" asked Spencer, picking up the orange juice carton and taking a swig.
"You got me, Spence," I said, shrugging my shoulders and turning. When I reached the door, I said, "Oh, Spencer?"
"Yeah!"
"Backwash in the OJ."
I turned and laughed as he did a spit-take.
Carly Shay
I'd never thought I'd be someone to do something so damn stupid. I'd found a pair of scissors I'd brought up a couple months ago for some iCarly gag and forgotten about. Really, I didn't have a plan, but I took them, separated the blades, held them over the white inner flesh of my trembling left wrist and let out a sigh as the pain coursed through me. It was blessed, liquid relief, and it was the only thing in existence. Sure, I wanted to make another stripe, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. One was enough…for now.
Soon, the flow of the blood somehow increased, and as I screamed, I sat up in my bed, the sky darkened. I turned and looked at my clock. Eleven o'clock the day after the show. I'd slept for more than twelve hours.
Turning on the desk light, I peeled back the sleeve on the inside of my left wrist but kept my eyes closed, not able to look at it in case I'd actually done it. Instead, I ran a cautious forefinger over the spot I thought had taken the cut, and opened my eyes. There was nothing there. No scar, no blood, no mark of any kind. Letting out a sigh of relief, I heaved myself up off my bed and made my way to the door. Opening it, I looked out and found the hallway empty.
There was a light on in the living room, so I went down and saw Spencer, sitting in front of his newly-completed chicken-ostrich sculpture, not moving a muscle. "Sp - Spencer?" I said, walking up behind him. "Spencer, you okay?"
He turned and saw me. Nodding, he said, "Yeah." I sat down at his motion for me to do so, and he stared ahead of him into the distance. "But I have been worried about you." He patted my knee, turned, and said, "Carls, I don't know what got into you, today, but whatever it is, you can tell me, if you want." He smiled nervously. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I nodded, the subject made suddenly so much harder. "Spencer, lately, I've had these…feelings." I stopped, but he was listening intently, so I went on. "Feelings I've never had before." He continued to listen. "I've dated a few boys, and you know that. I've liked them all a lot, and you know that." He still listened, almost looking like he was holding his breath. "Yeah, I've shown something I genuinely liked in all the guys I've dated, but none of them really…I dunno. They never made me feel like a girl…a princess." My attempt at humoring him was failed. "Spencer, I can't hide it, anymore. I can't hide it now that Sam and I had that fight, today. I've been denying it for almost a week, now…. Longer than that, really. Spencer, I'm a lesbian."
Spencer's face didn't changed. He was still ashen-faced, worried-looking, and somber. The next question he asked I wasn't prepared for. "Are you sure?"
I nodded, and he took me into a brotherly-type embrace. "Well, I'm glad you finally admitted it to yourself, Carls," he said. "At least you've done something a lot of people couldn't."
He kissed my head and rested his chin there. "How d'you like the sculpture?" he said, gesturing at the wire that had been twisted over the course of almost a week.
I laughed. "Spencer, that's the best one you've made, yet," I said, genuinely meaning it. "What is it? Chicken, or ostrich?"
"Ostrochen," said Spencer, laughing at the name. "Kind of reflects what's been going on here, lately. Plus, it looks like an ostrich and a chicken."
Sam Puckett
Aura let me into her room at eleven that night and lie down on her bed, putting her hand down the front of her pants. "Ooh, Sam," she moaned. "I'm sooo horny." She cracked one of her eyes and said, "Fuck me."
I moved over and kissed her, intent on doing just that but being so damn tired. Her tongue glided across my teeth. I smiled, removing my shirt and bra, letting her play with my tits and suck my nipples. I was so horny I was coming. I kissed Aura, and she kissed my back, removing my pants.
All that time, I couldn't get Carly out of my mind. Carly, with those black eyes, that jet-black hair, those breasts that just wanted to be kneaded and fondled, that tight, perfect little ass that was just so rounded and neat. I think, though, what got me all hot and bothered was the fact that she just had that personality that was really hard to ignore, and her smile…God, I just wanted to suck that bottom lip of hers like it was a piece of fat off a hambone. Yeah, she was that hot. She was that beautiful.
I don't think she'd noticed, but ever since I'd come out to her, every time she was facing me and looking the other way, I'd glance down and try to see what kind of panties she was wearing. Occasionally, I'd be lucky enough to see a color or a shape, but it wasn't often. Every once in a great while, I'd see that she was wearing a thong, and the moment I'd see that I'd feel the cum dripping down my leg, and I'd have to make like I was scratching an itch without lifting the legs of the things. It was just so damn irritating. And then whenever she hadn't quite gotten into a shirt yet and was trying to decide on which one to put on…God, if only she'd had her bra off.
Thing is, though, whenever she went to Build-A-Bra, she'd always somehow end up building one that complimented her shape. More often than not, it was lacy, but it wasn't a pattern that an outsider would notice. Sure, I wished she'd build a lacy bra all the time, but then it'd kind of ruin the purpose of that particular establishment.
Yes, I have a vocabulary.
Before she could pull my underwear down, I groaned, "Stop," into Aura's ear and sat up. "Aura, no. No, Aura, I can't do this."
Aura sat up and looked at me quizzically. "Sam? Is everything okay?"
I nodded, more or less telling the truth. "I guess…I guess I'm just not ready to have sex."
Aura acknowledged me. "That's alright, Sam," she said. "If you're not ready, I'll respect that." She smiled at me. "You wanna watch me masturbate?"
I smiled at the thought. "Just pretend like I'm not even here. I wanna see what you're like, without all the flashy shit. Don't try to make me cum, just…be yourself."
Aura smiled and giggled. "Okay." She grabbed a cock-shaped dildo from under the bedclothes and massaged her clit, closing her eyes and slightly parting her lips. I dressed quietly, still watching her as she penetrated a pussy that naturally had very little pubic hair, if any. I was aroused, but not the way I was with Carly. With this girl, I was only ever throbbing. With Carly…man, with Carly I was always dripping. It was almost like the Mississippi flowing backwards. Yeah, I occasionally watch an educational show. Big damn whoop.
Aura came with a final yip, and I saw her juices dampen the bed between her legs.
Almost like she'd forgotten I was there, she looked up and her eyes were wide in surprise. "How'd I do, Sam Puckett?"
Well, for one thing, I thought, not bad. For another, though, it just isn't the same being with you as it is being around Carly Shay.
