Each section of Seth is novella length. I have the second section open now. Some serious formatting issues. I would write them out by hand, type them with large gaps between paragraphs and add some more. As with Stef and Tucker, Seth is totally open to cut-ups. I do love to see/hear what people do with my source text. If you support at $25 per month, you will get a very special edition of Seth once I get a new computer and can self-publish it.
Emma flashes me a knowing wink, seemingly all thoughts of our earlier conversation have evaporated. That was Alex controlling her thoughts anyways. Sometimes he creeps in. It’s annoying. I’d like to fuck more of his teenage cousins just to piss him off. Maybe Terry can help with that.
I hold out my hand to Carissa. Shyly, she shakes it. I squeeze and catch a glimpse of her fingernails. It appears as if she’s had a manicure that she then chewed to pieces within hours. I hope eating nail varnish doesn’t impact on her intellectual capabilities. I don’t normally like nail varnish but on Carissa it’s okay. The cuticles are non-existent. The nails themselves are smooth and shiny. The nail tips, however, are ragged and chewed. They’ll scratch when she sticks them up my arse, but I don’t mind. It might even feel good. My anal wall is in need of a good scraping. And if consuming nail varnish doesn’t make her stupid she can lecture me in quantum mechanics while doing it.
“I think you should leave early,” Emma says gently.
The earlier I leave, the earlier I can be in Terry’s arms.
“Carissa has offered to help you in the supermarket.”
I’m willing to bet that both Emma and Carissa expect me to take her home. I look Carissa up and down. She’s blushing. I like that. Her hair looks likes it’s naturally blonde, like Terry’s. It is smooth and clean. Unlike Terry’s which looks as if it wants to start dreading. Bacteria populations in Carissa’s hair will be considerably smaller. I might even suck on it. I’ve always wanted to do that but I’ve never met anyone with clean enough hair. Until now. I notice her blushing as I admire her forehead and move my gaze to her eyes. They look like they are the same shade as Terry’s. I notice no make-up. She must know my likes and dislikes very well. She must have studied me and obtained a first class degree in Seth Studies. I look down further. She’s wearing a black scarf. It looks really soft. I reach out to touch it, deepening her shade of red. I pull my hand back at the last second, I don’t want to embarrass her anymore than she already is.
“I have to check on Joshua,” I hear Emma say, somewhat distantly.
I wave Emma away. Carissa is much more interesting.
I wonder if Carissa’s bra and pants match her green coat. Her bra is probably lacy and non-padded with metal under wire. The pants most likely match. Teenage girls love matching underwear sets. Maybe I’ll buy her some one day. And I can get me and Terry pants that match the set I buy for her.
She looks naturally heavy and carries the weight well. I bet her skin is smooth and soft without dimples or stretch marks. It’ll go pink when I slap it and bruise when I suck on it.
“Shall we be going then?” she asks in a small, anxious voice.
Carissa’s nervousness makes me wonder if she’s still a virgin. She wouldn’t be the first girl who’s cherry I popped. I like it when there’s a little bit of blood mixed with jiz on my cock. There’ll be blood on my dick the first time I fuck Terry because his arsehole is small and tight. She can probably tell I’m fantasising about fucking her. But it won’t be tonight. Her virginity is safe for at least twenty-four hours.
I stand up. My back is stiff; my cock only slightly. I stretch and feel my back creak. Carissa snaps her head around, she must’ve heard the crack. Terry will massage it later, before massaging my dick with his tongue. Carissa winces. I look up at her and my neck cracks. She winces again. I take my eyes off her and look around for my coat.
“See my coat anywhere?”
Carissa turns to look around the room while taking a pair of gloves out of her pockets. They match her scarf. I wonder if she tries to bite her nails while wearing them and ends up with a mouthful of black fluff. It’ll feel really nice if she fingers my arse while wearing them even if they’re all wet and slobbery from her trying to bite through them to get at those bastardly nails. The thought makes my back and neck feel considerably better.
“Seth,” I hear Carissa say.
Her voice is quiet and sweet. I turn to face her, hoping she won’t notice my growing erection.
“Where do you think your coat is?”
I think back to what I did when I arrived in from lunch. I quickly stripped to my socks to remove the smell of cat-vomit Becky and shit eating evil granny. I probably left my coat in the festering pile of clothes by the safe. I walk over there, trying to shield Carissa from what I’m doing – I don’t want her to see, she could think less of me if she does. And there’s my coat mating with the disgusting clothes I wore to the launderette. If it weren’t so cold outside I wouldn’t wear it. It probably has trillions of bacteria colonies growing on it from when that vile girl in the launderette tried to rape me. That old lady probably cursed it as well. My stomach bubbles angrily at the thought.
I bend down to pick it up. It was the first thing I took off so it’s at the bottom of the pile. The collar is poking out. I reach for it while silently praying I don’t get hit in the face by mutant bacteria. I’m going to have to wash everything in the pile on the hot cycle. Although the stuff that came off that horrible girl will probably survive it.
I think I need a new coat but buying one would cut into Terry’s Christmas fund. I don’t want to do that. My entire life obits around Terry. I rarely buy anything for myself. He can become very moody if I buy a new record instead of getting him what he wants. Maybe if I drop enough hints he’ll buy me one. If he does I won’t let any disgusting teenage girls anywhere near it. I’ll cherish it. If I have a bad day at the shop I can run into the back room and put it on. Maybe I can have a sneaky few minutes to jerk off into the pockets. It’ll considerably improve any bad day.
I put on the old disgustingly dirty one, being careful not to handle the outside of it too much. I’m surprised I don’t see bacteria colonies growing on it. And it smells like a combination of greasy kebabs and little shits. I hope Terry doesn’t notice the smell. He likes kebabs but he hates little shits. The scent of little shits could put him off but the smell of kebab will turn him on and make him want to gobble on my cock.
I need to button my coat. I don’t want to but it’s freezing outside. I wish Terry was here to keep me warm on the way to the supermarket. He could discretely play with my penis as well. But Terry isn’t here.
I turn so I’m in Carissa’s range of vision. She looks so much like Terry that for a second I think I’m turning to face him. I pretend to struggle with the buttons being careful not to actually touch it. If Carissa buttons it now, Terry can unbutton it when I arrive home. Then he’ll lift up my jumper and run his hands up my chest. And back down again. He’ll use his index finger of his left hand to run along the waistline of my trousers while cupping my balls through my tight trousers with his right hand.
“Need any help?”
Carissa’s voice is soft and soothing and much like how I’d imagine Terry would sound like if he were a girl.
“Yes please,” I chirp, adding, “carpal tunnel”.
She believes the lie and buttons my coat for me. She smells clean. I recognise the smell of soap but I don’t know the name of the brand. I can smell shampoo and subtle hints of laundry detergent. I sometimes wish Terry smelt like that. I love essence of Terry. But it would be really nice to give him a sponge bath. Maybe I’ll recognise Carissa’s soap when I see it in the supermarket. I’ll be sure to buy some if I do. Later me and Terry can have a bath together. I have a water resistant dildo we can play with. It’s even more exciting than a rubber duck.