Claire's Movie Night 2

This is an unofficial sequel to Claire and the Boys, written with the permission of the original author, janscoM. If you haven't, read and subscribe to that awesome series!

The response to Claire's Movie Night has been incredible, so I'm thrilled to share Part 2 with you all! I hadn't initially planned a Part 3, but I've woven threads into this story that I'd be excited to explore further. At the end of this chapter, I'll dive into some of those possibilities and also address a few questions from the comments.

If you're enjoying this journey as much as I am, I'd love to keep it going. Let me know your thoughts!

And janscoM, I hope you enjoyed the first part and this one. I'm trying not to make a mockery of your work!

Claire & the Boys: Movie Night, Part 2

"Film studies?" I said. "You know, breaking down movies for shot composition, narrative structure, that kind of thing." I gestured vaguely, hoping it sounded legit.

Colin raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "I didn't even know you were a student."

I smirked, leaning forward just a little, keeping the blanket snug at my neckline. "What did you think I was, Mr. Thompson?"

His face turned red instantly, and he stumbled over his words. "No, I-I didn't mean that, I just--"

I cut him off with a laugh. "Relax, Colin. I'm just messing with you."

He cleared his throat, still flustered. "It's just... unexpected, that's all."

"Well, I didn't even know you were a teacher," I said, tilting my head.

He shrugged, but when he spoke there was a hint of pride in his voice. "It's just one class in the evening. I'm only an adjunct."

"An adjunct, huh?" I said, raising an eyebrow. I had no clue what that meant. Was it a part-time gig? A fancy way of saying TA? I didn't want to ask and sound clueless.

Meanwhile, my stomach was doing somersaults. I wanted to ask what class he taught, but it felt like bait. The universe has a knack for dropping hints, and this one felt like a bowling ball to the head.

Before I could spiral, I blurted out, "Hey! You owe me an outfit, buddy. I still haven't got my clothes back from the party."

Colin smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you forget about the dress? You were more than fairly compensated."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Please, that didn't even survive the trip home with..." I caught myself before I said the boys. "Tom and Jim," I finished.

Colin had taken a few innocent steps closer to the couch. It shouldn't have been a big deal, so I tried to play it cool, but my heart was pounding anyway. He stopped just before sitting, his hands tucked into the pockets of his khakis.

"So," he said, "you're obviously not just here for a class."

"What? What do you mean?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

"I only mean you've become... friendlier with Tom and Jim?"

I shrugged, keeping my voice steady. "Something like that."

He tilted his head, in what I thought was an attempt to be goofy. "Or is every kid in the neighborhood taking it?"

Being funny obviously didn't come naturally to him at all.

Kid. He said it so casually, like it wasn't going to turn me into a desert down there. Like he'd always seen me that way. I sat forward suddenly, annoyed, my hand instinctively moving to pin the blanket to my chest. It kept my cleavage covered, but my collarbone, shoulders, and arms were fully exposed. "Kid?" I said, my voice sharp. "I beg your pardon?"

I started to say something else, but stopped when I saw the way he was looking at me. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes skipping across my bare skin.

"What?" I said defensively. Then I glanced down at myself and knew exactly what he was looking at. I tried to keep my face neutral when I looked back up. "What is it?"

Colin sat down on the edge of the couch cushion next to me, his expression unreadable. Then he asked, more bluntly than I expected, "Are you naked under that blanket?"

My mouth opened and closed once. Twice. Then my voice came out low, not mine, someone more sultry. Older. Like I was in a trance. I completely ignored his question.

"What class do you teach?"

I hadn't even really needed to ask. It was like I already knew.

"Life drawing," he said matter-of-factly.

There it was. My imagination immediately conjured the scene: a room full of easels, the soft scratch of charcoal on paper, and me, standing on a platform, bathed in warm light, completely exposed. Had Tom and Jim gotten the idea for me to "model" from Colin's class? Was this some twisted family tradition?

"Do the models get extra credit?" I asked.

Colin chuckled. "They're paid, usually. Some of them aren't even students. We put an ad on the site. It's a job."

"You get a W-2?"

He shook his head and smiled. "It doesn't really pay that well."

"But the perks," I said, my voice dreamy, my mind still lingering on the image of myself as the center of attention. "Some of them are students, though," I pressed, then adopting a slightly higher pitch, "'Mr. T, I forgot my homework, want to see me naked?'"

I held back the blanket, so that I could look down at my own naked body. Colin could see nothing. And I grinned at him, but then... my smile fell. He looked surprisingly stern. "That would be extremely unethical, Claire," he said, his voice deeper and more serious than I'd ever heard it before.

I didn't know what I'd wanted when I accepted Tom's invitation to come over. An explanation, sure, and I thought I wanted to pump the brakes on the whole "naked in public, naked for strangers" business. I thought I needed a reset, back to being just a couple of guys and their naked friend, but Jim's busy hands had accelerated our rekindling. What I found, ultimately, was that I just wanted Tom and Jim back. Their bond, their familiarity.

Now, here I was again, and I knew I didn't need to call a timeout. But I also didn't want Colin to think I was a whore, either, or for him to dismiss me as "just a kid". Now he was correcting me in a mighty teacher's voice.

If I could get him to think of me as a fuckable coed of legal age? That sounded pretty good.

"I was only kidding," I said quickly, tucking my hair behind my ear. My cheeks burned from the heat of his rebuke, and I scrambled to recover. "So, uh, the rec room. It's... nice. How long did it take to renovate?"

Colin seemed relieved by the change in topic. He leaned back, his frown lifting. "Too long," he said with a chuckle. "And it was more expensive than I expected. But it's been worth it. It's really for Tom. I always wanted a basement hangout when I was a kid. A place to relax, bring friends, or girls..."

"Or girlfriends," I quipped.

Colin grinned wryly. "One hopes," but he shook his head, like Tom was a lost cause. That made me feel a little sorry for them both. He trailed off again, his eyes settling on the blanket. Then he shrugged, a hint of nostalgia --and maybe pain-- in his voice. "Yeah, well, things don't always go as planned. But it's nice to see Tom getting to enjoy it."

I wondered whether he meant, Tom gets to enjoy Claire.

I leaned forward, teasing him with a smile. "And here I thought it was for you. You know, a man cave or something."

Colin laughed again, a pleasant sound, though a little more forced this time. "I guess it's a bit of both. But it's mostly for him."

"Well, it's very impressive. The soundproofing, the, uh, hey, if you get that kitchen stocked? It's like a mini movie theater with concessions. I can tell you put a lot of work into it."

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, it was a lot of late nights. Tom and Jim helped, but most of it was me. I wanted it to be perfect."

"It is," I said, smiling. "You really outdid yourself."

Colin shrugged, but I could tell he was pleased. "Thanks. I've always liked working with my hands. It's satisfying. Seeing something come together like this."

"Totally," I said, nodding. "It's like... you're creating something. You. No one else."

"Exactly. That's exactly it."

For a moment, we just sat there, the tension easing. Then Colin sighed, his gaze drifting to the unfinished ceiling. "Still a few things left to do, though. The wiring, the lighting fixtures..."

"It'll get there," I said. "The hard part is just getting started."

He smiled, a real smile this time. "Thanks, Claire. That means a lot. I wish certain other people who live under my roof understood that."

Was that a step in the right direction, I wondered. Comparing me to his wife instead of his son?

I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was avoiding looking at me directly. I decided to push just a little. "It's cozy, though. Perfect for... whatever."

Colin's eyes snapped back to mine, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something. But then he just smiled faintly and said, "Yeah, I guess it is."

A moment of silence followed, and I felt it in the air --and between my legs. A fizzle. The tension between us had shifted, receding but still there, tinged with something heavier. A midlife crisis? A man living vicariously through his son?

Somewhat listless, I glanced at the door, breaking the awkward silence. "So... how far away is that pizza place, anyway?"

Colin blinked, then nodded, clearly relieved to have an out. "Right. I should probably head upstairs, finish a... work email before the boys get back." He hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the stairs.

But suddenly, a moment of inspiration hit me. "Colin?" I said softly, almost pleadingly. I pulled the blanket up to my chin again, gripping it tightly in both hands. "Can you go get my hoodie? It is a little cold down here, after all."

Colin looked momentarily surprised, as if he'd just remembered he might've been sitting on the couch with a naked teenager, but he didn't hesitate. He nodded, then jumped up from his seat as quickly as Tom had to get drinks. Obedient boys. Good boys, I thought.

"Sure, I'll be right back," he said, turning to leave.

He paused at the door, glancing back at me one last time. I met his gaze, holding it for a moment before he finally stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

I let out a slow breath, feeling a small thrill from the small victory. Round 1 had been something of a bummer, but I wasn't about to give up. There was still time.

Now, what did I have to work with?

Colin's face had lit up as he described the renovation, my ethical faux pas apparently forgotten. Should teach an ethics class, if he cares so much, I thought, moodily. Maybe I'd pushed him too far with the "naked student" comment, but his hypocrisy wasn't exactly helping me get in the mood, either. Still, I felt a little thrill, realizing how easily I'd gotten under his skin. Tom could only be pushed so far, and apparently, he'd inherited that from his dad.

But things hadn't been on the right track from the start. I could have asked him if I would've made a good nude model, then modeled for him. I could've asked him to show me how good he was with his hands. I could have leaned into the teacher/student vibe. Instead I was playing to his ego and reminding him of his wife and son. Regrets, he had a few, but overall he seemed satisfied. Instinctually, I felt that a satisfied man probably wouldn't want to risk it all with his son's classmate.

What to do? At the party, we'd felt like equals, even when I was nearly naked. Now, I was, at best, turning into the teacher's pet. I had to get us back to that same vibe. The party vibe.

The party!

By the time Colin returned, I was ready. The door was closed over, and he probably had to keep one hand on the wall as he walked down the hall. There was no bright light to guide him. I'd turned off the TV. When he stepped inside, I stood on my toes behind him, pressing my breasts into his back as I covered his eyes with my hands.

"Guess who?" I whispered.

"Um," he said, clearly thrown off. "Your hoodie's gone."

Jim, you little shit, I thought. I took a moment to breathe. Okay. Naked. Not exactly my first rodeo.

"That's okay," I said. "I wanted to finish what we started at the party."

"Finish?" he mumbled, his voice low. He wasn't confused, but I could hear the disbelief in his voice.

I didn't give him a chance to think. I slid my hands down, off his shoulders and down his sides, feeling the tension in his body, the way he hesitated but didn't pull away. My lips brushed against his ear. "Yeah. Like, in the closet," I reminded him, my hands coming to rest on both sides of his waist.

I took a step back to give him room, then began to turn him around slowly. He started to move on his own, but I held him firm.

"Careful!" I whispered sharply. "Not a lot of room in here. Remember?"

"Right," he said, taking more careful steps.

"Good," I said, once he was facing me.

"Now," I said, finding his hands again in the dark, "were your hands in my hair... pulling my head back... or..." As I spoke, I moved his hands, bumping his knuckles into the sides of my stomach. He turned his wrists out of my grasp and put his palms down flat, then slid them to my waist. After a moment of consideration, they continued their twin journeys south, and his hands were quickly cupping my ass. Once in place, he didn't waste time, and gave my butt a firm squeeze. I was literally in good hands. He'd only hesitated for a heartbeat, and he didn't pull away. A great start to round 2.

"I can't even see you," he complained.

"You can feel me," I said. At the party, he'd seen my unfettered tits as we searched in vain for my missing clothes. If he were anything like his son, I expected to feel his hands there really soon.

"This can't go anywhere," he said flatly.

Woah, I thought.

"I don't want it to go anywhere," I said. "I just thought we were having a moment..."

"And you wanted to manufacture a conclusion." That stern teacher's voice again, scolding me. One of his hands left my ass, though the other seemed quite at home. With his free hand, he traced my naked back, his fingers running up my neck and into my hair. Like he'd done at the party, he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled my head back. Unlike at the party, his grip was unyielding, and the tug kinda sharp.

"Ow," I said, wincing.

He kissed me. It was light, not very exploratory. Sort of perfunctory. But as he kissed me, his hand slid from my hair down my bare back to rejoin its counterpart kneading my buttocks. This was, apparently, the shift change. His other hand tickled its way up and around my hip and ribcage until it found my breast and gave it a good squeeze, as well. A soft, pleased sound escaped from my mouth into his as he deepened the kiss. His tongue rolled against mine in an achingly slow dance.

Without warning, the hand dawdling on my butt left, then returned sharply in a terrific slap. The sound echoed in the quiet room. I gasped, more from surprise than pain, and pulled back to stare at him, wide-eyed. I expected him to scold me, to lecture me about authenticity. Instead, he just smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He was testing me, seeing how far I'd let him go. Before I could react, he hit me again, harder this time. The sharp sting made me gasp. I felt a rush of heat, a mix of embarrassment and arousal, and I clenched my teeth against a moan I couldn't restrain. It came out as a small grunt.

"Forgetting for the moment that you were down here naked with my son and his friend --and, trust me, I will get back to that-- I think you're amazing, Claire."

Woah, again.

His voice snapped me back to reality. One of his hands was massaging my boob, the other now merely cradling my butt cheek, and he was scolding me. The audacity of this man. I couldn't decide whether to put a stop to things right away or chew him out first. I must've made a sound because he tsk'd aloud, and then his hand left my butt and... I gasped as it slid between my legs.

"You don't like me telling you what to do, do you? Now I believe you're a student," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Not one of mine, though. They listen."

Daddy, I thought, and kissed him again to stifle another moan. Or maybe he kissed me because of it. It didn't matter. Unlike Jim, he knew exactly where my clit was. His fingers moved with purpose, rubbing that sensitive spot with a rhythm that made my knees weak. His other hand, busy on my breast, made room for his mouth as he broke away from the kiss and began to suck on my nipple.

I gasped and lowered my head onto his shoulder. His mouth went to my neck. His lips were warm, his tongue teasing, and the combination of sensations was overwhelming. His fingers between my legs didn't let up, either, pressing and circling, sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Fuck," I whispered, my legs trembling. "I wish I'd left the TV on."

The darkness was disorienting, but it also made every sensation a novelty. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him --his hands, his mouth, a aura of heat from his body against mine. I had no idea where the couch was, or if we were even close to it.

I reached down and felt his cock pushing against his khakis, the fabric already damp. My fingers fumbled with the creased fabric, trying to find the zipper. Suddenly, his hand --the one that had been between my legs-- moved to my throat, tilting my head back, apparently to make kissing me easier, as his mouth returned to mine. His fingers were warm and slick on my neck, and I could smell myself on him. The thought alone almost made me come right there.

Then, still kissing me, he began guiding me backward. I didn't realize what was happening at first and broke off the kiss to gasp just as my calves connected with the couch. Thankfully, he released m throat before I fell back into the cushion. The impact was soft but jarring.

I heard the sound of his hands working at his pants --his belt, his zipper, everything in the way, out of the way in seconds. His movements were quick, practiced, and I felt a flicker of panic mixed with excitement. He misunderstood why I touched his khakis. I was losing control of the situation again, and part of me didn't mind.

But the greater part of me did. I tried to sit up, but his hand was on my shoulder instantly, guiding me back against the cushion. I pushed against his hand and said firmly, "No."

All the rustling, the sound of his hot, heavy breathing, crawled to a stop. He stood back up, apparently thinking I meant I wanted everything to end. In the act, he must've felt and retrieved a remote control, because the TV's glow pierced the gloom just as I found what I was seeking. My hands were in the air, scrabbling in the dark, and it was my lips that found his dick. Our eyes met. His look of surprise was priceless.

Without further ado, I opened my mouth.

His cock was a little soft, but I didn't mind. It made it easier to take him all in. I wrapped my lips around him, my tongue swirling around the head, coaxing him back to life. The taste was already familiar in a way that made my stomach flutter. I could feel him responding, growing harder in my mouth as I took him deeper, my lips sliding down his shaft as my hand wrapped around the base. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself still, letting me set the pace.

I pulled back slightly, letting my lips drag along his length before taking him in again, deeper this time. My other hand found his thigh, gripping it for balance as I bobbed my head, my hair falling around my face. I could hear his breath quickening, feel the way his hips twitched, like he was fighting the urge to thrust.

Knowing he was trying to hold back, like he didn't want to be too rough, was very sweet. But I didn't mind a little roughness. I reached up with my free hand, guiding his hand to my hair, and he stopped holding back. His hand cradled the back of my head and he started to move, his hips thrusting gently at first, then harder. He hit the back of my throat and I gagged a little, but I didn't pull away. He wanted me so badly, to use me, and I moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his cock.

I picked up the pace, my hand and mouth working in tandem, and I could feel him getting closer. Hs grip on my hair tightened as he fucked my mouth.

When he finally came, it was with a low, guttural sound, his hips jerking forward as his load splashed onto my tongue. It was hot and thick, salty and slightly bitter. I swallowed every drop, my tongue working to clean him off as his cock pulsed. He didn't withdraw right away, so I kept my lips wrapped around him until he was completely spent and began to soften. He finally let go.

I pulled back and looked up at him, his penis now draped between my index finger and thumb. His expression was difficult to read in the dim light.

After breathing for a moment, he said, "For that... Claire... you'd get extra credit."

I burst out laughing, wiping invisible threads of cum from my mouth. I had probably got it all, but you can never be too sure.

While he precariously maneuvered himself back into his pants, doing his best not to stain his khakis, I realized that I was satisfied at a job well done, but still hungry, if you know what I mean. Not for pizza.

"I know it's my fault," I said, leaning back against the couch. "But you didn't finish what you started."

I watched Colin, who, much like his son, stared at me as if he couldn't quite believe his luck.

"You're just going to stand there?" I asked indignantly. "After all that?"

Colin cleared his throat, his face reddening slightly, "I, uh, should probably go. Before the boys get back."

Despite whatever misgivings he might have been having, he didn't budge and he didn't look away. Barely blinked. I laughed softly.

"If you really have to go, go. I'll be fine... on my own."

I paused for a moment, before deciding there wasn't really a line to cross or not cross after you've mouthfucked your friend's dad. I was sweating, breathing hard, blushing where I didn't know I could blush, and he was digesting all of it. Everything he could see. Everything I let him see. So, I gave him one more.

Then I spread one leg out, down the couch, and bent the knee of the other, so it was beside me, and let him watch as I began to play with my pussy.

His eyes locked onto what I was doing immediately, and I could see the hunger in his gaze. My fingers moved slowly at first, tracing circles around my clit, teasing myself as much as I was teasing him. I could feel how wet I was, the slickness making it easy to slide my fingers over my folds or... inside, if I wanted to.

"You're not going to help me?" I asked, my voice breathy.

He didn't answer right away, his eyes glued to my hand as I slipped a finger inside myself. I moaned softly.

"You seem to be doing just fine on your own," he said finally, his voice low and rough.

I gasped and added a second finger, my pace quickening. "Maybe. It is more fun with an audience."

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against my thigh. I could feel the heat of his touch, the way his fingers lingered just above my skin.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice almost reverent.

"Yeah," I said, my fingers moving faster now, my body tightening as I got closer. "You did that."

He knelt beside the couch, finally touching me again, his hand resting atop mine, his fingers replacing mine. I let him take over. He knew exactly where to press, how to move, and I could feel myself unraveling.

"Fuck," I gasped, my back arching as his fingers worked me. "I'm so close..."

My eyes were almost shut and, half-lidded, I watched his face descend between my legs. My eyes widened in surprise. His mouth was open and eager. I had to resist the urge to laugh. I couldn't believe this was happening. I thought I might cum just from anticipation.

But just as I was about to tip over the edge, the early warning step gave a terrific groan.

***

Colin went from a man on the verge of giving me a full tongue treatment to a scared little rabbit fast enough to dry me out any other day. Today, however, was a day of nonstop blocked cocks for your old friend, Claire. I sighed heavily as he began running frantically in place, doing a veritable Snoopy Dance of panic. He straightened out his shirt, checked the zipper on the pants he'd just zipped, and then began to look around the room for the optimal place for a Dad to stand.

Meanwhile, I stood up, shook and spread out the blanket, and draped it over me. As I sat back in the middle seat, I noticed that despite his panic and the disapproving purse of his lips, Colin still drank in every inch of me. Within seconds, the door, which had been closed over, opened wide. Tom and Jim reentered the room.

As they walked in, I began to hear and feel what the adrenaline had momentarily shut out, the blood pounding in my ears to a deafening volume. There were beads of sweat on my forehead, and the hair on the back of my neck was damp, clinging, tickling my ears. My cheeks were still flushed and I worried for a moment about what might billow up from beneath the blanket when the boys finally sat down. The smell of sex, the lingering evidence of what had just happened. But when they sat, it was the strong scent of my lavender soap, fresh and clean, that filled the air. I exhaled, relieved, but still on edge.

Tom was carrying a stack of pizza boxes. The relief on his face, when he saw I hadn't moved from my swaddled position, made me feel a tad guilty. "Claire! We got pepperoni."

"Perfect," I said, forcing a smile.

Then I looked at Jim and gaped. To my horror, he was wearing my oversized hoodie, the one Colin had gone to retrieve. The sleeves were too short on him and half his forearms stuck out. His usual devilish grin seemed to spread even wider, Grinch-like, as he saw the recognition on my face.

"Nice hoodie," I said dryly.

Jim glanced down, feigning surprise. "Oh, this? Found it upstairs. Thought it was mine."

I raised an eyebrow but didn't push it.

Colin cleared his throat, his voice a little too loud. "Great! Pizza's here. Let's eat."

Tom set the boxes on the coffee table, as if he were setting down a crate of nitroglycerin. His body language was screaming, Claire, don't forget you're naked under there. As if. I kept the blanket wrapped tight, as Tom and Jim took their seats on either side of me, effectively trapping me under cover.

As they settled in, I could feel the heat of their bodies, the stolen glances at the blanket, as if they could see through it. They pretended they didn't know, Colin pretended he didn't know, I pretended that Tom and Jim were ignorant for Colin, and vice versa for Tom and Jim. It was mad.

"So, uh, hope you weren't too bored?" Tom asked.

"No," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. "We were just... discussing the plot of Civil War."

Jim snorted, and I shot him a look that he ignored. He leaned forward, opened the top box, and grabbed a slice. As he did, his eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the flush of my cheeks, the faint sheen of sweat on my forehead, my somewhat wilted, damp hair. He leaned my way as he sat back down, and whispered, "You look like you ran a mile. Did you and Colin have a little chat while we were gone?"

I froze for a moment, probably giving too much away, but quickly recovered. I glared at him as I whispered back, "What are you talking about? It was awkward as Hell, okay? If I look hot, it's probably because I thought I was going to get caught."

Jim leaned back and took a bite of his pizza, with an expression like he was considering the taste of what I said. "Sure. Makes sense. That's why you're flushed. And fragrant."

I rolled my eyes. "It's called taking a shower, Jim. Wearing deodorant? You should look into it."

Colin, meanwhile, was doing his best to act normal, but his eyes kept returning to me. He took a slice of pizza from the open box and took a bite, chewing slowly, as if buying himself time to think. Gone was the confidence and the tenacity.

It was going to be a long night.

I cleared my throat and pantomimed looking around, mindful of my bare shoulders.

"Are there plates?" I asked, looking directly at Colin.

Colin, a slice in his mouth, said, "Huh?" and I wondered if I'd sucked the brains out of him. Then his eyes widened, reminding me of his son, and he said, "Oh! Of course. We're not barbarians. I'll be right back. Um. Jim, your friend said she was cold. Why don't you give her back her hoodie? Enough fun, huh?"

He hesitated for only a moment, trying to decide whether to put the unboxed, once-chewed slice of pizza down on the coffee table, and then stuck it in his mouth instead. Then he was gone.

The moment Colin left, Tom turned to Jim. "Dude, give her back her hoodie," he said.

Jim glanced down at the oversized sweatshirt, his expression mock-innocent. "What? This? I thought it was mine."

"Jim," I said, crossing my arms, "it's mine. You know it's mine."

He shrugged, pulling at the hem like he was inspecting it. "Are you sure? It looks like something I'd wear."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Man, just give it to her before my Dad gets back."

Jim smirked, his eyes flicking to me. "I'm just trying to figure out why Claire's so worked up."

"I'm not worked up," I said, my voice sharp. "It's mine."

"Fine," Jim said, finally pulling the hoodie over his head. He tossed it to me, his smirk still in place. "Here. Don't want you catching a chill."

I caught it, glaring at him as I threw the blanket off my top half and pulled the hoodie on. The fabric was warm, and I couldn't help but take a big whiff of it --it smelled like Jim, a mix of sweat and something faintly musky.

Tom watched me, his brow furrowed. "So... are we just gonna not talk about it?"

I shrugged. "Talk about what? It was just some fun." I knelt on the couch to pull the hoodie down around my thighs.

"Fun, huh?" said Jim. "That's one way to put it."

"But Jim knew," said Tom.

Jim's head snapped up, his expression defensive. "I didn't."

"I saw you," Tom said, crossing his arms. "I saw your hand."

Jim hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay, fine. I didn't know at the beginning, but I realized it when we came back from getting drinks. Can we start the movie?"

Tom glanced at me, still unsure, but he didn't push it. "Fine. But this isn't over."

Jim grabbed the remote. "Sure it is. Movie time."

Minutes later, Colin returned with a stack of paper plates and napkins, his expression carefully neutral as he set them on the coffee table. He avoided direct eye contact with me, though his gaze lingered for a moment on my hoodie. The room felt charged, the air thick with unspoken tension. Tom and Jim exchanged glances of mutual irritation, their usual banter subdued as they reached for slices of pizza. It was the second time since our reunion had begun that they were at odds. Like before, I was the cause.

Jim, in a surprising turn of grace, even though I was now passingly clothed, gave a plate to me, so that I didn't have to risk uncovering my unmentionables. Tom looked supremely irritated. Dropped the ball, there, Tom, I thought.

I tried to relax. The pizza was good, and the movie was a decent distraction, but I was internally squirming, parts of me clenching and unclenching in dissatisfaction. All three guys in the room had manhandled me that very day, and there I sat between them, pretending it hadn't happened, with an incredible hunger I couldn't sate. Colin's presence, in particular, felt like a punishment I didn't deserve. He sighed and groaned during the most exciting parts of Civil War, really driving home how beneath him this entire affair was.

Reaching for my drink, I glanced at him, catching the faintest flicker of something in his eyes --regret, maybe, or curiosity. But he quickly looked away, and gnawed on his crust.

Within minutes of unpausing, Tom and Jim were back at it, their voices rising as they argued about the movie. Tom was all in on Cap, waving his hands like he was giving a TED Talk. In conclusion, he said, "He's fighting for what's right, Jim."

Jim's only reply was an indignant snort.

Colin, sitting off to the side, glanced at me and rolled his eyes, like he was thinking, Kids, am I right? It was such a small, insignificant gesture, one that I'd seen plenty of times from guys in school.

Colin considered me adult enough to suck him off, until he zipped up his pants. Or did he, even then? I sat up straight, my voice cutting through the conversation. "Cap's not just breaking the law for the hell of it. He's questioning a broken system. That's not rebellion --it's integrity, Jim."

Tom grinned, clearly thrilled I was backing him up. "Exactly. Cap's standing by his principles, which includes fighting against fascist authority."

Jim shot me a look, no longer smiling, taking this as seriously as any closeted nerd. "Principles get people killed. Iron Man's just trying to save Cap from himself."

I leaned forward and said sharply, "He's a control freak."

Jim smirked, matching my lean, so we were practically nose to nose. "Sounds like someone I know."

Colin cleared his throat, his voice dry. "Well, this has been... enlightening." He waited for a laugh.

I didn't even glance his way. After a few minutes, he mumbled something about an email for work and slipped out. I kept my eyes on the screen, not bothering to acknowledge him, but promised him a swift demise if he said anything else galling ("You kids have fun."). I only breathed a sigh of relief when the early warning step groaned a moment later.

The room felt lighter without his presence, but the tension between us lingered, least of all because his son was on my left and the guy on my right had some idea that Colin and I had been up to no good.

As the two factions in Civil War finally clashed onscreen, I fell back against the couch, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I sipped my soda, the sweetness of it lingering on my tongue, but it didn't wash away the memory of Colin. The taste of him, the way his balls had pressed against the back of my hand, the texture of the veins on his cock as I'd run my tongue along it --I was furious, actually. The word echoed in my head. Kids. It pissed me off. I wasn't a child. I'd proven that, hadn't I? But if he made me so mad, then why had I gone down on him? Why was I still thinking about him? I'd given him the cold shoulder, shut him out, but now, as the movie's tension built, I was getting hot just thinking about him. And taking off the hoodie wouldn't help this time. Or would it?

I glanced at Tom and Jim, their notebooks completely abandoned on the coffee table, their faces lit by the glow of the screen. They were full of pizza, dazed by the cinematic spectacle, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me.

I leaned toward Tom and whispered, "Boy, sure is hot down here."

Tom smirked, but his expression quickly turned stern, one small step toward his father. "Don't even think about it."

I pouted, settling into a low shoulder sulk between them. I was sitting cross-legged, feeling both boys' legs brushing my bare knees, but neither of them seemed compelled to touch me.

So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. When Tom's hand went under the blanket to scratch an itch, I caught it and held it between mine. Sort of friendly. Like a girl friend might do. No big deal.

He looked at me briefly, but his eyes returned to the glory of cinema. So, he didn't fight much as I moved my hand up under my hoodie and pressed his palm against my breast.

I watched his eyes widen, before he settled into the idea. Then a happy little smile fixed itself on his face. His hand stayed where I'd placed it at first, but we were positioned a little awkwardly for much exploration. So, while Cap, Bucky, and Iron Man were in the middle of their big showdown, Tom snuck his hand down my chest, and then ran it stealthily around my stomach, my ribs, and my back, "walking" his fingers across my spine. I fought the urge to giggle from all the tickling, my eyes locked on Jim, who was still focused on the superhero on superhero beatdown.

Finally, Tom's arm was wrapped snugly around me in a friendly hug. And then his hand went right back to my tits. This time, my hoodie wasn't bulging ridiculously toward my chin and I felt a little less like I was going to get elbowed in the face.

At first, his touch was tentative, like he wasn't sure what to do. But as the movie played on, the tension in his hand eased and he grew bolder. He began to move between my breasts, giving them both attention, tugging gently on my nipples until they hardened, squeezing them, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through me.

"Team Cap, all the way," Jim said lazily, as he reached for another (room temperature) slice of pizza. I was vaguely amazed how much boys could eat.

Does that count as a spoiler?

"Team Iron Man," Tom countered, his voice a little distracted, his fingers pinching my nipple a little harder.

I moaned softly, my body arching into his touch. Jim glanced over and saw for the first time the defined bulge of Tom's probing hand, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, a moment later, I felt another hand, on my thigh, under the blanket. Jim's fingers stroking my skin. I froze for a moment, my breath catching, but I didn't stop him.

Meanwhile, Tom's hand moved lower and I continued to hold my breath, a little afraid that if the boys brushed against one another that things would fizzle out. But Tom kept to his marked territory. He was getting more confident now, his fingers tracing the curve of my breast before returning to nipple play. I could feel the heat building low in my belly, my body responding to every touch.

Jim's hand was also on the move, his fingers sliding up the inside of my thigh. But then he shifted slightly, took hold of my leg with both hands, and pulled it across his lap. My leg pressed his erection down as it passed over it, then rolled back against it. I worried that if I moved suddenly, I would hurt him, but it must have felt okay, because one of his hands almost immediately moved to my pussy, his fingers exploring me with a familiarity that made my breath hitch.

I reclined in my new pose to get comfortable, laying against Tom. At first, it seemed like Tom and Jim didn't really notice or care that the other was also touching me, which would have meant that one or both had brain damage. I pretended it was my little secret. Then I noticed Jim's gaze flicked over my shoulder. Twice. A steely eye from one to the other, sizing each other up, seeing who was responsible for making me squirm, making me moan.

Eventually, I went from lying against Tom to laying across his lap, my head resting against the armrest, the blanket halfway up my chest. Under the blanket, both of his hands explored me, one on my breast, the other massaging my stomach. Jim had no choice but to scoot closer to Tom, so not just my legs were on his lap. I could feel his erection pushing against my butt, so each time his fingers pushed inside me, I rolled one leg gently back and forth, trying to show my approval without admitting anything. Hoping that I didn't resemble a dog getting belly rubs.

Jim continued fingering me. Possibly due to sitting side by side with his best friend, his pace, both their paces and rhythms, really, had faltered and slowed. Their touch was now as much about their own absentminded exploration as it was my pleasure. I felt a wave that had been growing subside, but I didn't mind. I was rested and loving the attention. Drawn gently out of the same pre-orgasm fugue it felt like I'd spent half the evening in, I looked from one to the other, resisting the urge to laugh at their hardened, concentration faces. I was a test they were both studying, nay, competing to ace.

"Where do you guys stand on Bucky in this one?" I asked, madly maintaining the pretense.

"He's practically the damsel in distress," said Tom, thumbing my nipple.

"Bucky's just along for the ride," Jim agreed dismissively, his fingers slipping inside me with ease. In and out. In and out.

"Me too," I tried to quip. Because my mouth had opened, I moaned softly as his fingers reentered me. My body tightened around him, perhaps in embarrassment, and he took it as encouragement. Despite the close proximity to Tom, he quickened his pace, and his thumb brushed against my clit. One more time, I could feel myself getting closer.

The banter died down, and I was left with the distant sound of the movie and the warmth of their hands moving over and inside me. I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in the sensation. Tom continued to massage my tits while Jim's fingers worked me open. I shifted my hips slightly to meet his hand.

My body hummed. It took all of my endurance to finally say anything.

"Wait," I gasped, my voice shaky. "Stop."

Tom stopped immediately, his hands recoiling as if my boobs were hot coals, and I loved him for it. Jim stopped too, but with the tips of his fingers still inside me and his thumb pressed against my clit, still shifting right and left, like he was playing with the D-pad on a video game controller. Rather than ask him to quit it, I took a deep breath, and held it against the sensation. I tried to steady myself.

I looked between them, the pretense finally shattered. It was awkward, embarrassing. I psychically begged them both not to speak.

"I'm actually getting kind of hot again," I said to Tom, between shallow breaths. "If you can believe that."

Tom looked perplexed for only a second before he moved to the hem of my hoodie, his fingers brushing against my skin as he began to pull it up. I lifted my arms obediently. At the same time, Jim shifted the blanket, and I felt the cool air from the basement hit my pelvis. I glanced down, watching curiously as Jim's eyes locked on my pussy with an intensity that stirred up the butterflies in my stomach. His lips parted slightly. For a moment, I felt a rush of self-consciousness, but it was quickly replaced by a thrill of power. I let my legs fall open a little wider, giving him a better view.

Unexpectedly, Tom didn't pull the hoodie completely off. He stopped with it just over my mouth, blindfolding me. I laughed, my voice muffled. "Tom--"

But before I could finish, he was kissing me. His lips were warm and insistent, and I could feel the heat of his body as he leaned over me. I kissed him back, my hands reaching up to grip his shoulders.

Jim didn't move right away, as if in consideration of this semi-romantic moment, but he didn't wait for verbal permission to continue, either. After a moment, he resumed at the same steady rhythm. I imagined steam rising from where the cold air met his relentless fingers.

I moaned into Tom's mouth, involuntarily responding to both of them. Losing control of my own body.

Tom pulled back slightly, his breath warm against my skin. "Still hot?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, my heart racing. "Uh-huh."

He kissed me again, his hands moving back to my breasts.

Blindfolded by the hoodie, I could only hear and feel. The world narrowed to the sensations coursing through me; Tom's hands on my breasts, the slick, wet sound of Jim's fingers almost masked by the delicious feeling. I moaned softly, arcing my back and finding the fabric of my hoodie with my mouth. I began to bite into it, muffling the sounds I could no longer help but make.

Tom suddenly found one of my nipples with his lips and I cried out in surprise, and then felt myself grinning in embarrassment as he began to suck. He began alternating between them.

Jim's fingers moved faster, one hand absently pressing down against my pelvis in a way that would have made my vision blur if I could see anything except the dark fabric of the hoodie. I writhed on their laps, thinking about taking their cocks out of their pants, thinking about what Jim had suggested, what I had suggested, really. Didn't this already qualify as a threesome? The combination of their touch, the darkness, and the intensity of the moment was almost too much, but I didn't want it to end.

I was still kissing Tom, my lips pressed against his, when Jim suddenly stopped. I heard a sound I later realized was the coffee table, its four legs scraping across the carpet as Jim kick-shoved it away. Then I felt Jim's hands gripping my ankles as he turned them to hang off the couch, spreading them apart with the same smooth efficiency as before. As he shifted me, the hoodie finally slipped off my head, my arms still caught in the sleeves. I broke away from the kiss and blinked as the room came back into focus.

"Jim?" I asked.

I watched him as he knelt on the floor, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before he lowered his head. His lips... met mine. I gasped.

Fireworks.

My mind exploded with light as Jim began licking me up and down, his tongue rolling over my cunt and clit like a tidal wave. My own sensitivity overwhelmed me, and I couldn't breathe. I didn't even realize what was happening as my body writhed, cradled by Jim and Tom's free hands, and the first wave of my orgasm hit. I cried out, my hips bucking against Jim's mouth.

He didn't stop, his tongue working me relentlessly, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. I tried to close my legs, to push him back, but that just locked him in place. Tom pulled back, giving me room to cry out, to moan, but then he returned to kissing me, his hands settling on squeezing my breasts in a sort of default position.

I could feel every movement of Jim's tongue, as he worked me over. Within seconds, his mouth brought me to another orgasm, spasms arcing through my body one after the other.

When it finally subsided, I lay there, my body limp, my chest heaving. Jim pulled back, his trademark smirk plastered on his noticeably shining face. "That was fast," he joked. "But don't worry, it happens to all the girls eventually."

I laughed, the sound soft and breathy, as I recalled his own misfire in the car.

Jim chuckled, his hands still on my thighs, but my skin felt hyper-sensitive, and his touch too ticklish. He looked down at me, and I felt that flicker of self-consciousness again, wondering how swollen I looked. How red. Ridiculous, at this point, but it was hard not to think about it. I was literally warm all over, yet freezing wherever I was wet, the cool air of the basement making my damp skin prickle. I scooted off Tom and sat up between them, patting the spot beside me. "Come here, Jim."

He hesitated for a moment, his smirk softening, then settled next to me, his thigh against mine. I lay down across them again, letting my head rest in his lap this time, and kicked my legs up, crossing them over Tom's lap and onto the armrest, basically, the reverse position I had taken when we got started. It was an awkward, almost playful maneuver. Then I turned on my side, aware that I was giving Tom a view from behind that was equal parts embarrassing and thrilling.

"Enjoy the view?" I teased, glancing over my shoulder at him. I clumsily wiggled my hips atop their laps. Then, suddenly, I yelped in surprise. Without warning, Tom's hands had moved to my pussy, his fingers exploring me with a skill that caught me off guard.

"Just catching up," he grunted.

I laughed softly, but the sound caught in my throat as Jim's hands found my breasts, their mutual touches reigniting the warmth in my core. "You two are relentless," I murmured wearily.

Jim leaned down, stage-whispering into my ear. "You love it."

I didn't argue. Instead, I shifted slightly, feeling the rigidity of his cock against my cheek through his sweatpants. I couldn't be sure, but it looked as if it were moving on its own. I thought about it, doing what I was tempted to do earlier, but I wasn't hungry anymore.

The credits were rolling on the movie, and I felt the weight of the night settling over me. "I think I'm done," I admitted, my voice soft. "For now, at least."

Jim's hands stilled, and he nodded, his smirk returning. If there was any resentment in his voice, I couldn't hear it. "Fair enough. You've earned a break."

Point to Jim, I thought.

"Tom?" I asked.

"Huh?" said Tom. "Oh. Okay." Rather more lazily than gallantly, Tom's touch subsided and I rolled back onto my back, my ass on Tom's lap lap, one arm across my belly, the other dangling off the couch.

I let myself relax in the afterglow of two incredible orgasms, four eager hands, and my first fucking threesome. I stared at the exposed wiring in the ceiling, tracing the path of the wires with my eyes, vaguely aware that I was completely naked and their eyes were rolling along every curve I had.

It felt like I was melting into the cushions, the warmth of their presence wrapping around me like a blanket. I sighed dreamily.

***

As the final notes of the movie's score played, I felt myself drifting off. Which, of course, meant the boys had to stir. I groaned audibly.

Jim shifted slightly beneath me. I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew he was about to say something. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, giving him that much longer to ogle. Tom's hand, resting on my thigh, twitched slightly, and I knew he was staring too. I imagined their eyes watching my chest rise and fall.

"So..." Jim began, his voice a courageous attempt at casual. "That was something."

I sighed, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. "Let's not talk about it, okay? It's... weird."

Tom, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. "We don't have to talk about it. But, uh, maybe we should make this a regular thing? Movie nights, I mean. Not... uh." He paused, clearly not wanting to suggest that what we just did we wouldn't do in the future. "I mean, if you guys want to?"

Jim wrinkled his nose. "Why did you have to look at me? Don't look at me, man."

I raised an eyebrow, looking between them. "Movie nights? With you two? I'm not sure I can handle that much excitement."

Jim laughed, his tone teasing. "Come on, Claire. It's not like you have anything better to do."

I glared at him and covered my breasts, drawing both of them to look directly at what they could no longer see. "You're such a jerk," I said, while reveling in the minor manipulation.

He shrugged, unbothered. "Maybe. But I'm your jerk."

I couldn't help but grin at his stupid face, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

Tom tried to steer the conversation back on track. "So, next week? Same time, same place?"

Jim shook his head. "Can't. My sister's coming home from college for her break. She'll be around for a while, so no 'movie nights' for a bit." He made air quotes as he said "movie nights".

I decided to ignore it, since apparently it was a non-issue. "Got it. Well, I guess we'll have to wait until she's gone."

Tom looked disappointed but tried to hide it. "We'll figure something out."

Jim smirked, his eyes not quite twinkling with cartoonishly mischievous intent. "Or you could just come over when she's here. I'm sure she'd love to meet you."

I contemplated that. I hadn't been to Jim's house yet. I wondered if, once I entered, I'd ever be allowed to leave.

Before I could reply, Tom changed the subject. "Hey, Claire," he said. "You really should think about joining our film studies class. It's pretty fun, and you'd be good at it."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden shift in topic. "I don't know. Maybe. I really need to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do with my life."

Jim leaned on the arm of the couch, fist against his chin, and stared (upside)down at me. His tone was serious for once. "You've got a good eye for detail, and you're not afraid to speak your mind. Plus, it'd be fun to have you in class."

I hesitated, considering it. "I'll think about it. But no promises."

I glanced between the two of them, feeling a strange mix of emotions. They stared back and looked at each other. We all seemed very pleased with how things had turned out. Absolutely anything could ruin the moment. So, I did it.

I sat up, untangling myself from their laps, and stretched, my body feeling both heavy and light at the same time. I shook my butt at them briefly, as if wriggling out of the relaxation, and spun around, striking a pose with my hands on my hips and a grin on my face. "Okay, I'm going home. But first... where's my hoodie?"

The End... of the Movie Night, anyway. Not everyone was delighted to see Marvel's Cinematic Universe get so much "screen time" but I wanted to add a small sliver of nerd to the core three characters, setting the stage for what could happen when Jim's sister finally arrives. I'm sure my portrayal (or betrayal!) of Colin might also leave some shaking their heads, but it's all in service to the possibility that Claire does show up to class. Colin, being tossed aside for two dorks in his own nostalgia nest, might want to take that out on Claire. It's true that I pulled Claire back from public nudity and tackling more mature strangers, but I hope it's obvious that she's still growing into herself. A girl's got to keep her options open.

I think both possibilities should please readers, given the feedback:

eroticaclassic said, "I would love to see Claire in more public settings, wearing embarrassingly little clothing, and not under total control of the situation."

If you dare to stare into my crystal ball, you'll see Claire stumbling through the woods with nary a stitch, pursued by monsters, hiding in a quarry from a group of blue collar guys, and reprimanded in front of a classroom that can see every inch of her student body.

Anonymous said, "I would like to see the older guys the dad's and such actually get some fun with Claire." Another Anonymous said, "Agreed, please involve older men, Neighbors or even better, teachers and relatives!" And yet another (are you all the same reader???) said, "I look forward to read more about Claire's adventures, preferably with older men."

Colin will absolutely return but before he does, Claire's going to have to avoid the group of anonymous (see what I did there) quarrymen I mentioned.

Finally, a fourth Anonymous asked, "When will you post the next chapter?"

Whenever the Lit editors say this one's good to go!