Claires 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,

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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.