Anon - Trixie Short Story

"Hey Anon, heard you were having girl troubles."

Trixie slipped onto the bench next to you, pressing her thigh against yours and snuggling her backpack into her lap to act cozy. The intimacy meant little to you, she was always brash and forward, your mind knew better than to get excited. She leans hard against your arm, slipping her elbow underneath yours and holding her hand in your lap. She wriggles her fingers in your field of vision, ignoring her is impossible, she keeps talking regardless of your silence.

"Aww, don't get so butthurt Anon. I've decided to be generous, to give you a little gift."

She wriggles her fingers again, making the Star Trek hand and then squeezing her center fingers together with the outer two as far apart as possible. She switches between the two a few times, her lame little sleight of hand failing to impress you. Subconsciously you attempt to imitate the motion with your other hand, failing to keep up.

"Now, what sound does a sheep make?"

You struggle to make your reply sound as condescending as possible, but the second you form your lips into the 'baaa' noise she pops her fingers in your mouth, hooking behind your teeth and rubbing on your tongue. Her seemingly dry fingers become slick and wet in your mouth. A sharp, salty tang invades your mouth, your first instinct is to tug her hand out and spit, unable to process what alien taste exactly her dirty ass fingers made you think of.

She dances away in mirthful laughter, the little drama attention whore having teased you and gotten exactly what she wanted, a giggle. That stupid tang haunts your mouth for hours until lunch, and on the way home you see the girl buying a snack from the machine, delicately fingering the coin return slot and putting a ghost taste in your mouth once more