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Making Arrangements	By : nevercallmekitten Category: A through F > Baby-Sitter's Club Views: 6648 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Baby-Sitters Club, the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I ignored every text message from Mary Anne. I declined all her calls. In class, I stared at the board like a zombie. I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of Mr P’s hand rubbing me.
I knew I was attracted to guys, but I always pushed it away, because I also felt attracted to girls. So what was wrong with Mary Anne? We had fun together, we loved going out for pizza, and watching Netflix together. But she was always throwing herself at me. Which should have turned me on, but instead it made me annoyed. It was never...rewarding. Mary Anne was like cheap fast food, immediately satisfying but you felt gross afterwards. The way she was always desperate to suck my cock, even when we only had a few minutes together. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I enjoy having a pretty 16 year old girl want to guzzle my cum? There was something about sex with Mary Anne that just wasn’t right.
And I knew exactly where I could get what was right.
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I stood across the street from the Prezzioso’s. I wanted to talk to him, but not in his house. Not on his turf. Plus I was almost certain Mrs. Prezzioso had returned temporarily from taking care of her mother. An ivory Lexus SUV was parked in the driveway next to Mr Prezzioso’s Mercedes. At dusk, I watched him leave the house with their beagle Ernie. I followed him around the block, and waited til he was passing the park. I jogged up to him.
“I need to talk to you.”
He didn’t even look startled. “I figured you'd find me.”
“So. She’s back in town?” Were we already like this? I didn’t even have to say his wife’s name?
“Yes, but just for the night. She’s going back to Littlefield tomorrow morning.” Littlefield was about a 90 minute drive away.
I didn’t say anything. We kept walking. Ernie stopped to sniff everything, so the walking was slow.
“I don’t think I’m gay. Well, not completely gay.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. But what I mean is that I don’t think I’m straight either. If I were gay, sex with Mary Anne would be a bigger chore. And it’s not a chore. It’s just not...” I didn’t finish. I looked at him; he was wearing athletic pants and a thin t-shirt. I could see his defined pecs even under the t-shirt.
I cleared my throat and looked at the streetlights. “Weren’t you worried I’d tell your wife?”
He looked at the dog, who was looking back at him waiting patiently to keep walking. “Not exactly. I figured you’d tell me you were going to do it, before you’d actually do it.” He paused. “Was I right?”
“Yes. I suddenly felt very tired and edgy. “I don’t know if I can hold it all together.” Always being responsible, taking care of my brother, my parents keeping secrets about money from me, the constant smell of Merlot on my mom’s breath, trying to keep up grades and JV baseball, trying to keep my girlfriend happy and failing at that apparently. I rubbed my neck wearily. I just wanted to do something, like bash a mailbox or knock over trashcans. Something. I wanted to destroy something.
Mr. Prezzioso looked around, up and down the street. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just follow me.”
He lashed Ernie to a tree, and we walked further into the park. Past the playground, past the athletic bars where teenagers tried to do pullups and smoked weed after dark. “You seem pretty stressed out.”
I didn’t say anything, but I kept following him. I could barely see the ground, and the roots of trees kept tripping me. Mr Prezzioso didn’t stumble once.
He led me into a grove a trees. “I’ll make you a deal. How about you relax for a little while? Don’t think about anything. For now, I think you need to take a load off.” He pulled me close to him, and I felt his breath on my mouth. He licked my bottom lip gingerly, and he grinded his groin against mine. I could feel his cock getting hard. He started rubbing his hand down my crotch. “How does that sound, Logan?”
I groaned. My mind went empty, and I grinded my cock into his hand, rubbing it against him. He looked around, and got on his knees. He pulled down my athletic shorts and started sucking my cock.
“No, wait. Stop. Please.”
Mr Prezzioso pulled his mouth off my dick and looked up at me. “You know what your problem is, Logan?” He enclosed his mouth around the head of my penis lightly and licked. I moaned softly. “Your girlfriend doesn’t know how to give head.” He pulled off again and waited, tormenting me.
“Mary Anne’s a pretty young girl," he continued, "and like most pretty young girls, they figure they can be lazy cocksuckers. A lick or two, bat their eyelashes and say ‘Oh I love your cock, daddy’, and most men will come to that.” He hovered over my cock, breathing hot air before tentatively swirling a tongue around the head.
“Oh fuck. Oh jeezes”.
Mr. Prezzioso smiled. “But you need something better. Something stronger.” He punctuated this with a firm suck on my cock. “And that’s where I come in. I can give you that. I could suck the cum out of you so hard, you’ll black out.” He drew my entire dick in his mouth, deepthroating my cock, and I grabbed the tree trunk behind me to keep steady.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Oh god fuck no god please don’t stop”
My cock throbbed and he rammed it down his throat over and over, sucking and tugging and licking over and over. His hand cradled my engorged balls and he kneaded and tugged on them with his hand.
“You like this, huh?”
“Oh god, fuck, please, oh god--”
He sucked my hot throbbing dick over and over until I exploded a bright white jet of cum that shot into the grass. I collapsed into a heap. He stood up and looked down at me.
“We good for now?”
I squinted up at him and nodded. He put his hands in his pockets and walked away, whistling.
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The next day I felt like a million bucks. I felt like all the bullshit problems wearing me down, well, that was just temporary shit, nothing to get worked up over. I even found Mary Anne in the hall, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She looked shocked, and kissed me on the lips.
“Is everything okay?”
I realized then that I should be mad about her fucking Mr Prezzioso, but I wasn’t. He had just taken a problem off my hands. She could stay my beard, which we both preferred anyways, so nobody needed to know which team I played for. Mary Anne could keep getting drilled by Mr Prezzioso. And I could keep getting my cock sucked. And all we had to do was make sure Mrs Prezzioso didn’t find out.
I kissed Mary Anne again. “Everything is just fine.”
She looked suspicious. “But then, you’re okay with me and...you know...doing stuff?”
I suddenly realized Mary Anne might actually be so clueless that she still hadn't figured out I was into guys too. Maybe I shouldn’t tell her yet.
“Yeah, it’s fine. He and I came to an arrangement, and I’m okay with it.”
“What kind of an arrangement?”
Shit shit shit. “Um. Money?”
I thought she’d freak out, but no, she seems relieved. “Oh okay, yeah, he gives me some cash too.”
Hunh. I had just stumbled on the perfect explanation. Mr Prezzioso was rich, my family was poor, money made sense. Except if Mary Anne knew human nature at all, she’d know that any good boyfriend would bristle at the idea of pimping his girlfriend out. But Mary Anne was strange that way: completely naive about people, but she’d stick her finger in your butt while she sucked you off.
“When are you going to see him again?”
“Tonight. But it can’t last long, she’s coming back next week.”
“Oh.”
I wondered how we would all pull this off. All I could think about was the next epic blowjob. Except, dammit, I didn’t have a way to reach him.
“Do you have a phone number that you text him?”
“Yeah, sort of. He has one of those burner apps on his phone, where it’s like invisible or something. You want the number?”
“Um yeah. That’d be nice.”
She punched the number into my phone, then kissed me goodbye. I walked towards study hall, and waited til she turned the corner.
“When and where? It’s L.” I texted.
I waited and waited. I stared at the text message icon, willing a notification to appear. But nothing happened.
Study hall. No message. I kept thinking I felt my phone vibrate against my hip. But every time I checked, there was no message.
Trigonometry. No message. I must have looked like an addict, waiting to hear back from his dealer, constantly checking over and over.
World History. No message. Read a paragraph in my book, check messages. Read the same paragraph, check messages. Repeat a billion times.
Finally, the last bell rang and I headed to baseball practice. I checked my phone one last time before slipping it into my gym locker.
“Tonight. 9pm. I’m kicking out MA at that time. Wait til you see her leave.”
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Making Arrangements