Avoiding Amy Jackson by N. A. Alcorn

I had just gotten home from a high school football game with my friends. We won, by the way. Crushed the Panthers by at least three touchdowns. I hung out at a party with a guy named Brody Lancaster—”
    James interrupts my stroll down Masturbation Memory Lane. “Brody? Seriously?”
    “Shut up! It’s a hot name and it doesn’t even begin to describe the total package that sixteen-year-old boy was rocking. Tall, muscular, and baby blue eyes that could make a girl cream her panties. He was every chick’s wet dream.”
    James offers me an unconvinced stare.
    “Girls have wet dreams too! I’ve woken up mid-orgasm after having an all-night fuck-a-thon with Patrick Dempsey more times than I can count. Dr. McDreamy has a serious obsession with letting me ride his face.”
    His jaw drops as I quietly think about my favorite McDreamy fantasies.
    James clears his throat and brings me back to Earth.
    “Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, Brody Lancaster. Sexy, sixteen-year-old Brody Lancaster. Did I mention that he was the quarterback of the football team?”
    “Fucking figures,” he scoffs at me. Then he gestures with his hand. “Keep going.”
    “Well, Brody didn’t give fifteen-year-old Amy the time of day. I don’t blame him. I was scrawny and quiet, and Pro-active would have been a nice addition to my personal hygiene regimen. I took a lot of mental pictures of Mr. All-American Quarterback that night. He popped my spank bank cherry, and for that, I will forever be indebted to him. I’ve since deleted several of those mental pictures, but I can’t lie to you, I’ve still got a few images of Brody stored away in my brain somewhere. Of course those are purely for reminiscing purposes.”
    James laughs loudly and appears equal parts humored and intrigued.
    I respond accordingly. “Hell, I might have a ladyboner right now from thinking about him.”
    His eyes go wide and somehow find their focus on my lips—and then my breasts. “You can’t throw shit like that out there and not expect my mind to wander to unfriendly territories.”
    I motion for him to bring his eyes back to my face. “Eyes up here, Williams.”
    He chuckles and gestures with his hand again for me to continue. “Keep going, but I do want to remind you that you’re the one who picked this topic of discussion.”
    I roll my eyes skyward and carry on with my reminiscing. “Okay, so back to the infamous night that was the gateway drug into my journey towards obsessive masturbation—”
    “Obsessive masturbation? Are you trying to fucking kill me over here?” His fingers grasp the bridge of his nose as a pained look crosses his face.
    “Sorry,” I respond with a fake wince, but in all actuality, I secretly love that he’s uncomfortable. “Okay, back to what I was saying. I watched Brody that night like a hawk. I eye-fucked his tight, toned ass every time he took his red Solo cup to the keg for a refill. I attempted to telepathically remove his pants several times just to get a glance at his dick. I was fifteen and curious, and nothing invokes curiosity in a teenage girl high off of estrogen and Midol like seeing a guy like Brody Lancaster in skin-tight spandex football pants. I remember thinking, Is his dick really that big or is it the jockstrap? Is he circumcised? How big are his nuts? What’s it like to suck his entire sac into my mouth?”
    “I swear you are the only fifteen-year-old girl who has ever thought about sucking a guy’s balls into her mouth.” He groans noisily and his head lands on the table with a thud.
    I nudge his shoulder. “Are you still with me, James?”
    “Does it matter? I have a feeling you’re going to continue whether I’m listening or not.” His voice is muffled. His head rests on the table and he waves hand, motioning for me to carry on with my story.
    “Well, I went home that night, hopped up on dirty thoughts of sixteen-year-old boys’ cock sizes, and realized for the first time that Brody Lancaster