Girlfriend's sister gave me a blow job while I drove her home.

It was almost 1 a.m. and I had just wrapped up a three-hour chemistry grind when my phone buzzed. It was Brooke, my girlfriend. Her contact pic: a blurry photo of us at the beach, her blonde hair whipping into my face, mouth open wide.

I answered on the third ring. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Tyler.” Her voice was tight, slightly nasal, the way she got when she was pissed but trying not to show it. “Can you do me a huge favor?”

I closed my laptop, pinched the bridge of my nose, and braced. “Sure, babe.”

“It’s Kayla. She’s at this party on the edge of town and she’s, uh, not exactly… functioning.” There was some movement in the background and Brooke’s voice dipped to a whisper. “She’s wasted. Like, can’t-even-call-an-Uber wasted. She tried, but the app says there’s a thirty-minute wait and she’s being a huge brat. I don’t have my license yet and Mom is going to freak if Kayla comes home like this. Can you just… pick her up and maybe drive her around for a bit? Let her chill before she gets dropped off?”

I glanced at my phone clock. 1:09 a.m. “You want me to babysit your sister?”

A sharp exhale, and then Brooke’s real voice: “Please. She keeps texting me about you anyway. You’ll save my life.”

“She’s not going to puke in my car, right?”

“She better not,” Brooke said. “Just text me when you have her. Love you.” She hung up before I could respond.

\*\*\*\*\*

The party was way out past the mall, in one of those mini-mansion neighborhoods where the houses all have perfectly trimmed yards and two-car garages full of stuff no one uses. I parked down the street, behind an SUV with three different Greek letters and a windshield full of sticky notes. Kayla was sitting on the curb in front of a mailbox, knees together, arms wrapped tight around her shins. Her dress, scrap of blue glitter, more like a tank top, rode up high enough that I could see the pale curve of her ass and the matching blue thong clinging for dear life. She was barefoot, shoes dangling from her fingers, toenails neon pink.

She spotted my car and bolted upright, stumbling over to the passenger door. She yanked it open, dropped her shoes inside, and collapsed into the seat, skirt hiking up to mid-thigh. “Bro-in-law!” she sang, loud and slurred.

I stared straight ahead, hands at ten and two. “Not your bro-in-law yet.”

She grinned, squinting at me with bloodshot blue eyes. “Semantics. I was just telling everyone how you’re, like, the best dude ever. You came to rescue me. You’re a literal prince, Tyler.”

“That makes you my damsel,” I said.

Kayla made a weird snorting sound and mimed fainting in my direction, her head landing dramatically on my shoulder. She smelled like vodka and bubblegum. I tried not to breathe it in.

“Are you good to go, or do you need water or something?”

She flapped a hand, already reclined, feet on the dash. “I just need a hot guy to drive me home. And snacks. Do you have snacks?”

“No, but there’s a 7-Eleven on the way.”

She turned, smushing her cheek to the headrest, staring at me. “You look tired. Were you, like, jerking it all night or something?”

I nearly floored it out of there. “I was studying.”

She laughed, high-pitched and too loud for the tiny car. “Ugh, you’re so responsible. Brooke always says you’re basically a hot dad.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

Kayla reached over and poked my bicep. “Don’t get a big head. She says it like, you’re hot but boring.”

“Duly noted.”

I caught her reflection in the side window, messy blonde hair falling over her shoulders, mouth still glossy despite whatever carnage she’d gotten into tonight. If I squinted, she looked just like Brooke, except less put-together and more dangerous.

We didn’t talk much until we got to the main road. She kept fiddling with the radio, skipping from EDM to country to a weirdly sad Taylor Swift song, then back to silence. Finally, she said, “I bet you think I’m a mess, huh?”

I glanced over. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve picked up.”

She looked away, lower lip jutting out. “I’m not usually like this. It’s just… finals week, boys suck, and Brooke’s always telling me what not to do. She’s obsessed with you, you know.”

My face went hot. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but, like, obsessed.” Kayla’s hand landed on my thigh, firm and warm through my jeans. “She told me about your… thing.”

I pretended not to know what she meant. “What thing?”

She squeezed, moving her hand up half an inch. “Your cock, dumbass.”

A car horn blared from the other lane. I realized I was drifting across the dotted line and jerked the wheel, bringing us back to the right side of the road. “Jesus, Kayla.”

She snickered and didn’t move her hand. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” I forced a casual tone, but my pulse thumped in my neck.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she slid her fingers higher, grazing the bulge that was absolutely, undeniably forming in my lap. “Holy shit, it’s true,” she whispered, reverent. “Sis said you had a monster.”

I should have stopped her, but I was frozen, both hands tightly gripping the wheel.

Kayla’s nails dragged a lazy line across the top of my thigh, circling until she reached the zipper. She didn’t hesitate, just popped the button, pulled down the zipper, and slipped her hand inside. Cold fingers met hot skin. My cock jerked, already at full mast and then some. She giggled, squeezing me through the fabric, then wrestled it free, the head bobbing up over my boxers.

“Whoa,” she said, totally awed. “No wonder Brooke never shuts up about you.”

I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t even look at her. I kept my eyes fixed on the empty stretch of two-lane road ahead. At this hour, no one else was around. It was just fields, fence posts, and the slow, building pressure in my crotch.

Kayla ducked down, blonde hair sweeping across my lap. I felt her tongue first, a slow, experimental lick up the underside, followed by a swirl around the tip. She made a low, hungry sound, then took half of me into her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as she sucked.

I tried to say her name, warn her to stop, but it came out as a strangled grunt.

She pulled off for a second, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You taste good,” she said, voice muffled and greedy.

I could feel the car drifting again, tires humming on the rumble strip. I yanked us back to the right, sweat prickling across my forehead. She dove down again, this time taking me even deeper, swallowing around the head with a messy, wet pop.

Every nerve in my body lit up. The danger, the guilt, the hands-free thrill of a blowjob while barreling down a country road at sixty miles an hour—it was too much.

“Kayla, fuck, you need to stop—”

She just moaned louder, one hand working my shaft, the other cradling my balls. My foot pressed harder on the gas.

She kept going, relentless, sucking and slobbering over my cock. Every time I looked down, I caught a glimpse of her lips stretched wide, spit glistening on my skin, eyes closed in bliss.

I couldn’t hold out. I could barely keep the car straight. Finally, when I felt myself getting close, I slapped the hazard lights and pulled onto the gravel shoulder, tires spitting dust. Kayla didn’t stop. She just gripped me tighter, sucking until my vision went white and I emptied into her mouth.

She swallowed, then licked up the mess, giggling like she’d just stolen a cookie before dinner. She tucked me back into my boxers, zipped me up, and flopped against the seat, panting.

“That was… insane,” I said, barely able to breathe.

She stretched, arching her back so her tits pressed against the seatbelt. “Told you I’m not usually like this.”

I watched her, a mix of terror and pure, animal lust crawling down my spine. “We can’t tell Brooke about this.”

Kayla smiled, slow and wicked. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

We sat there for a minute, letting the adrenaline fade. Then she poked me again, softer this time. “Next time, you owe me snacks.”

Chuckling, I started driving, hands shaking, the weight of what just happened pressing on my chest. I kept glancing over, half-expecting her to start laughing or call me a perv, but she just hummed along with the radio, window down, blonde hair wild in the wind.

By the time I dropped her off, Kayla was asleep, mouth open and a thin line of drool catching the glow of the streetlights. I carried her to the porch, tucked her shoes under her arm.

A few seconds later, the door swung open. Brooke looked from me to her sleeping sister and let out a relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank God. How bad was she?”

“Pretty bad,” I said. “She passed out a couple of minutes ago.”

“Did she throw up?”

“No. Somehow.”

Brooke shook her head. “I swear she’s going to give Mom a heart attack one day.”

She stepped aside so I could carry Kayla inside.

Together, we helped her upstairs and got her into bed without waking her. Brooke pulled the blanket over her sister, brushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face, then quietly closed the bedroom door behind us.

As soon as we reached the hallway, Brooke wrapped her arms around me and kissed me.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You’re seriously the best.”

I smiled. “No problem.” Knowing that no payment was needed. Kayla had already taken care of that.

I headed for the front door, carrying a secret I knew could never leave that house.

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