To say that Stacey Bandersnatch was merely horny would be the equivalent of saying that a Lamborghini was merely a car. She looked down from her second story window to see her brother and his friends lounging at the pool. As she diddled her clit, she wondered which of Chuck's friends she would like to fuck most, then decided that she could probably take all three of them on. They reminded her of those three guys from Workaholics: There was a tall one with brown hair, a medium one with reddish hair, and a shorter one with dark hair, but that's not why she would fuck them. Her pussy hurt. Literally. In fact, it ached so terribly to be fucked that she wondered if this was how guys felt when they had blue balls, then she wondered if there was a term for this in women.
Blue clit
? She didn't know, but she did know that she was very seriously craving a cock inside her, and regardless of the fact that she had already gotten herself off twice, she was still just as horny as she was when she first began.
I know
, she thought.
I'll be nice and bring them a beer while wearing my skimpiest bikini
. She began to turn away and saw Mrs. Terwilliger from next door looking at her. She waved as she said, "Fucking cunt." She sighed as she got up and removed her pajamas. It really wasn't Mrs. Terwilliger she was angry at, but her parents for asking the neighbors to keep an eye on her. Then again, her parents couldn't be faulted, either, as it wasn't their actions that placed Stacey in her current predicament.
Stacey pulled her panties down past the ankle monitor, then pulled up a nice black thong. The ankle monitor was her only accessory for the next five months, and it was given with much relish from Judge Reinhold even though Stacey's boyfriend at the time testified that she knew nothing of the illegal weapons that were being sold from out of the trunk of her car. Judge Reinhold, in an attempt to make an example of Stacey, gave her six months house arrest and two hundred hours of community service, after which he would expunge everything from her record. It was either that or go to prison for two years as accessory to the fact, so Stacey took the deal. She affixed a top that barely covered her nipples and areola, then made her way to the kitchen.
As part of her house arrest, her mother and father made it absolutely clear that she was to have no visitors. "None! Whatsoever!" they emphasized, and asking the neighbors to keep an eye on the house in their daily absences was all part to ensure that Stacey complied. They never said anything about Chuck not having his friends over, though, so Stacey thought to take advantage of that. She pulled four Michelob Lights from the fridge—yes, just four as she was forbidden to drink during this probationary period—and made her way to the back porch, holding the beers close so they made her nipples erect. She got to the sliding glass doors to find the back yard empty. She opened them and stepped onto the patio and looked around, then Chuck appeared from the side gate.
"Where did your friends go?" Stacey asked. "I was just bringing you guys a beer."
"Dressed like that?" Chuck asked.
"I can't help the way I look," Stacey responded.
Chuck laughed. "Just trying to show everyone what they can't have, more like it." He reached down and gathered his flip-flops and shirt. "We're going to Cherry Lake in a bit. They're having a big Fourth of July Fireworks thingy out there tonight. You know, music, grilling out, etcetera. Do you want to come? Oh, I'm sorry. You can't, on account of you're not allowed to go anywhere."
"Prick!"
"Gimme a beer," Chuck said, and Stacey handed one over. Chuck unscrewed the top, guzzled half of it, then offered the remainder to his sister.
"You know I can't drink. They test me every fucking day."
"I'm just having a little fun with you. You know that," Chuck said as he hugged her. He then looked at her. "Hey, wait a minute. Why were you really bringing us all a beer?"
"Can't I do it just to be nice?"
"You could," Chuck agreed, "but that's not your MO. So, what gives?"
"I'm almost ashamed to say," Stacey began, "but I guess I have sunk so low that I need the help of my little brother to set up a booty call."
"A what?" Chuck asked with a hearty laugh. "A booty call? Really? Come on, now, Stace. You can't be serious."
"Chuck, you have no idea what I feel like right now," she told him, then explained the whole "female equivalent of blue balls" thing to him.
"Damn, Stace. Is it that bad?"
"It hurts to even walk," she told him.
"Yup. Female blue balls, alright. So ... What? You want me to ask one of my friends if they want to hook up with you, is that it?"
"I wouldn't ask under normal circumstances, Chuck, but it's been damn near three months since I last had sex and rubbing one out just doesn't do it for me anymore."
Chuck sighed. "Okay. I'll see what I can do." He looked at her for a few seconds, really taking her in, her breasts, the nipples and areola of which were still quite rigid and poking through her top, her flat stomach, her shapely hips ... he even looked at her thong and saw that, even as low as it was cut (he surmised it came just above the clit) there was no pubic hair to be found ... then said, "You know, none of them deserve you, not to mention the fact that they just wouldn't understand it to be a one-time thing. They'd assume that it would be ongoing."
"The way I'm feeling, it might just be," Stacey responded.
"They wouldn't deserve that either, but I'll let you know something," Chuck promised, then went inside. Stacey followed and returned the three unopened beers to the refrigerator, then made her way back to her room.
She heard Chuck leave out thirty minutes later, and her mind began to wander to whom he might pick to help her out in this most drastic time of need. The thing is, though, that the more she dwelled on it, the hornier she got. It had gotten so bad that she actually went into her parents' room and rummaged through her mother's drawers in search of a vibrator or dildo or something, but none were to be found. Her legs were weak and her clit was throbbing. She was desperate. She got the idea of checking the refrigerator to see if there were any smoked sausage links or cucumbers. Hell, even a nice-sized carrot would do. She had rubbers, so she could just affix one around a good eight-incher, but they were all gone. "FUCK!!" she shouted, and she began to weep as she made her way back to her room.
Stacey fell upon her bed and just lay there. Finally, she called Chuck and was startled to hear his phone ring in his room. She jumped, then that scene from a dozen different horror movies flashed through her mind—"The call is coming from within the house!"—and she began to laugh. She made her way to Chuck's room and found his phone. Her intention was to call one of his friends and tell then to tell Chuck that he left his phone at home, thus giving her a reason to ask if he had found anyone for her yet, but her curiosity got the better of her and she began to flip through his pictures.
The first was of a girl in cut-off denim shorts with a nice ass. The second was of a close-up of a girl's breasts barely covered by a green bikini top. The third was of a girl wearing an American Flag bikini. Stacey stopped and went back to the first pic. She studied it for all of twenty seconds before concluding, "That's
my
