All characters in this story are 18+, including those in high college or graduating.

CHAPTER 1. Wrong Number

Zoe accidentally sends nudes to her best friend’s older brother. Zoe accidentally has phone Sex with her best friend’s older brother. Zoe accidentally forgets her boyfriend exists.

Zoe could kill her best friend, Grant. Especially when a particularly strong gust of wind kicks up, blowing some of the powdery snow that coats his POS car into her face. Her dark, still-wet hair is freezing over and the scent of chlorine clings to her skin. She pulls her parka tighter around her frame and screams at him to unlock the car faster.

“Wasn’t that fun?”

All Zoe can do is glare from under her curtain of partially-frozen hair. As usual, Grant is acting too cool to be affected by the biting cold, his varsity swim jacket, his only shield against the Midwest winter, only half buttoned up. But even he can not hide how badly his hands are shaking as he unlocks the passenger door for her.

Grant’s pride and joy is his 2005 Chevy Impala, which still has crank windows and manual locks – a retro novelty in the summers, but a complete pain in the Ass in the winters.

“Well, I for one, had a blast!” he exclaims over the wind, before dashing over to the driver’s side and yanking open the door. He gets in and shakes out his hair, still wet from the pool and snow, which sends cold droplets flying. Zoe regrets not locking him outside.

He turns his key and the AC immediately starts blasting cold air.

“Jesus, dude!” Zoe squeals, numb hands reaching for the vents. She pointedly aims them right at the driver’s seat.

“Chill, it’ll get warmer,” Grant insists through chattering teeth with a grin. He reaches into his backseat and tosses one of his hoodies at her. Zoe wraps her hands in it and tells herself she’ll be taking a long, Hot Shower the second she gets home.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she finally says, as heat starts trickling out of the vents. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. I still have trig to do.”

Grant laughs.

When her friend had bitched and whined about having to renew his lifeguarding and CPR certifications in order to keep his cushy summer gig at some ritzy country club, nobody really offered their sympathies. Most of their friends worked in retail or fast food – Zoe herself, was a server at Applebees. It only felt fair that Grant finally had to put in some effort for his high-paying job of tanning and flirting with St. Mary’s girls.

“It’s fucking stupid, guys,” Grant sighed, dramatically throwing down his backpack as they settled into an open table for lunch. “I swim at least three hours a day. I already know CPR and AED shit. I passed the class once, why do I have to prove I can do it again?”

“Aw, is someone’s silver spoon getting too heavy?” their friend, Erika, quipped. She worked at Walmart.

“Har har.” he deadpanned, before turning to Zoe with wide eyes. His mouth slowly dropped open and a mischievous glint crept into his gray eyes. “You’re taking lifeguard training with me.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“And I’d waste my time on that because…?”

“You owe me,” he sang, a big stupid grin on his face. “Muse, remember?”

Shit.

Back when Grant was a freshman and Zoe a sophomore, she was looking for anyone with a Y chromosome to take her to a concert. That was the rule her mom had set – a stupid sexist one, but she wasn’t budging. Enter some random freshman – a few inches shy of Zoe’s 5’3″ with a mouth full of braces and a head full of floppy, boy band-y hair. Baby Grant had all but jumped at the invite after overhearing Zoe practically begging some mutual friends to go with her.

Since then, much of their friendship has consisted of Zoe dragging him to this concert and that event – anywhere her mom was convinced she’d get abducted without a male present. A total joke, since Grant was anything but intimidating. He’d only recently shed his braces, hit a growth spurt and started to see the fruits of his swim practice labors pay off. Before now, he’d have been useless against potential abductors – not that she’d ever tell her mom that.

Even so, just a few weeks ago Grant came with her to see Muse downtown – and on a school night, no less. Killer, especially considering he had 5am conditioning the next morning.

“…Fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “I’ll do the stupid class with you.”

“Trig?” Grant wrinkles his nose in disgust. “What did I say? Shouldn’t have taken honors geometry, you try hard. You could be coasting through peasant algebra with me right now.”

“Aw, but I don’t wanna go to clown school.”

Grant reaches over and shoves her one-handed. “And I was about to feed you,” he clicks his tongue, turning into a McDonald’s drive-thru. “I’m going to order a single black coffee and leave.”

Zoe laughs appreciatively at the John Mulaney reference. The two conspire over whether to share fries and would it be weird if I got a kids meal? when Grant’s phone starts ringing, muffled.

He’s in the middle of placing their order as his phone goes off and he looks at Zoe, nodding to the pocket of his sweats without missing a beat. Knowing it’s probably his mom, freaked that they died in the snow or something, Zoe nods and goes to grab his phone from his pocket.

By nature of retrieving his phone, her hand, like, gropes his thigh. Her breath catches and she looks to see if he also felt something, but he seems unbothered, engrossed in confirming their order with the employee.

It’s just Grant. What the fuck.

Zoe convinces herself that she’s just touch starved. She hasn’t been around a guy in a while. Her boyfriend, Sam, goes to a different school and with him in his last year of varsity soccer and her working nonstop to save up for college, the two haven’t had much time for each other. Just a lot of “how was ur day?” and “I miss you!” texts. Making plans for prom and spring break, but not much else.

She holds the ringing phone up as Grant pulls forward and he glances over. He sighs.

“It’s Sam,” Grant sighs. “Answer it.”

Grant’s older brother, an NYU freshman who she’s been nursing a small crush on since they’ve known each other, is also named Sam. A fact which Grant absolutely roasted her for when she started dating her Sam.

Not that the two are at all alike beyond their names. Zoe’s boyfriend is a typical high school boy: sporty, immature and a little too into flip cup. Grant’s brother Sam is more Zoe’s type, if she’s being honest. He plays the piano and always makes time to talk to her about school and life – even when she comes over and he has his own friends over to hang out with. He also told her once to stay away from boys because she’d break their hearts and it’s probably the nicest thing a boy who isn’t a relative has ever said to her.

She answers the call.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hey Zo,” Sam says, his voice making her stomach flip. Just a little. She’d always thought he had a really nice voice. Not really deep or anything, just nice. Playful. “Am I on speaker?”

“Yup.”

“Ant, where the hell are you?” his voice immediately switches to exasperation when addressing his brother. “Why’s mom calling me past eleven, talking about how you’re dead on the highway?”

“We literally just stopped for food!” Grant protests, rolling down his window to pay. Zoe’s eyes flicker to his arm muscle while he turns the window crank. Grant meets her gaze, his lips ticking into a small smile, and she quickly averts her gaze.

She needs to see Boyfriend Sam. Soon.

“Tell Sam your number,” Grant tells her. “Hey, Sam? Text Zoe mom’s cell so she can text her updates.”

So, Zoe tells Crush Sam her phone number. Almost instantly, her phone lights up with Mrs. McCall’s info from a new number.

This is Sam, btw 🙂

A small smile tugs at her lips and she saves his number.

After Grant drops her off full of fries, Zoe takes her long awaited Shower, being sure to shave everywhere. She changes into her sexiest underwear – nothing crazy, on account of her making just over minimum wage. Just a plain black thong from PINK and a sheer bralette one of her old dance buddies gave her for her first hook up. They’re Sam’s favorite.

She climbs into bed and turns off her lights, setting her phone camera up with the timer and flash on. The ab lines leftover from her days as a dancer and pom girl always look more pronounced with lots of shadows. She taps her phone’s shutter button and then kneels, her thighs and hips swelling around her thong. She arches her back and stretches forward, her face just out of view of the camera, and she wills her modest cleavage to cooperate.

Everything about Zoe is petite – including, much to her dismay, her tits. Grant’s always reassuring her that guys won’t care – “boobs are boobs, man” – but it takes her a while to find just two of the dozens of photos where she looks truly fuckable.

The first is a side profile which shows off her narrow waist and the swell of her Ass. Her thighs look full, soft and smooth – perfect for grabbing. The other is a topless pic. Her wide set C-cups don’t look all that full but her nipples are hard and perky – Sam’s always said she has cute, small nipples. Whatever that means. The second pic also captures her full lips in an exaggerated pout. It’d be cringey if her mind wasn’t so clouded by how Horny she is.

Zoe quickly shirks her bra and thong, pulls on Grant’s hoodie, and settles into bed under her covers. She types Sam’s name into her phone, attaches the two favorited photos, and hits ‘send.’

Even though they’ve been dating for about a year now – which is more like, five years in high school time – Zoe and Sam have never really sexted. Unless you count texting to make plans to have Sex. And sure, he’s seen her naked dozens of times, but something about actually sending him nudes feels hotter. She squeezes her legs together, expecting a call from Sam any minute now.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Zoe rolls onto her back and lets her hand wander between her legs. She’s wet. Of course she is, she’s pent up. She starts mindlessly running a finger up and down her slit, spreading her wetness around her Pussy, teasing her clit with the lightest of touches. And it feels so good.

Zoe starts pressing a bit harder, rubbing faster, her heart rate picking up as she feels herself getting needier. She starts grinding her hips against her fingers and she can feel herself getting even wetter, even sloppier. She turns her head to muffle a whine into her pillow, fingers furiously pumping in and out of her cunt, the heel of her hand grinding into her clit.

And then, she smells Grant’s cologne on his hoodie. It’s a comfortable scent – warm and woodsy and clean – something she smells everyday. Something that she’s barely ever noticed. Something that really shouldn’t be turning her on. But it is.

God, it is.

Because it’s masculine and new, not because it’s Grant McCall’s cologne, right? Before she can overthink it, Zoe drags the fabric closer and breathes it in, her fingers still working her cunt, and she imagines getting fucked.

She’s sensitive. Needy. She can feel her arousal leaking down her Ass and onto her thighs. She thinks about having him – Sam? Grant? Grant’s brother? – on top of her. She thinks about biting into shoulder, nails scraping down a muscular back. She thinks about rough, driving cock pumping inside of her and feeling it throb and split her open. She thinks about how she’d cream and gush around him when he shoves in and hits that spot–

Her phone lights up.

Fuck. Zoe.

She taps on Sam’s name and doesn’t hesitate to call him. Mind foggy with lust, she flips onto her front and shoves a pillow between her spread thighs, desperately grinding and rutting against the fabric. Her fingers flex into her sheets and she holds the phone to her ear, panting and whining like something wounded, waiting for Sam to answer.

He picks up.

“Zoe…what the fuck?” a hushed voice answers, breathlessly.

She freezes, still breathing hard.

“Who is this?”

“Who do you think?”

“…Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Zoe collects herself long enough to scroll to her messages.

This is Sam, btw 🙂

Shit. Shit shit shit. She’d sent her nudes to Grant’s Sam. Sam McCall. Not her boyfriend. And even worse, it’s turning her on.

“Fuck,” she adjusts herself to try and calm down, but her sensitive clit rips a muffled moan out of her. “I, sorry, I meant to send those to…ohmygod…to, my boyfriend Sam.”

Silence.

She should probably just hang up. Instead, she curls up on her side and resumes thrusting against her pillow, softly. Zoe bites her knuckle and waits for Sam to say something.

“Yeah, he’d probably want to see these.”

“Yeah,”

“I should probably stop looking at them too.”

“…yeah.”

“Yeah?” His voice is huskier. She’s never heard him sound like this before, like anything but friendly and amicable. It’s fucking Hot.

Zoe inhales sharply, her finger just barely brushing against her sweet spot.

“Wait, no,” she shudders. “I like that I sent them to you.”

She hears some rustling, a zipper, and then Sam’s voice, loud and rich and the sexiest thing she’s ever heard.

“You’re so lucky my roommate’s home for the weekend.”

A switch goes off inside of Zoe – one that’s screaming green light, go, go, go! and she fumbles to open her side table drawer. She used to fuck the vibrator Erika gave her as a gag gift from the Walmart restock bins practically every night, but it’s been a while. But she’s so wet that she doesn’t think twice before sliding it inside of her.

“Fuck,” she moans, her Pussy stretching around the toy. It’s thickest at the tip, tapering off into a narrower, more ergonomic shape. Zoe starts fucking herself, hard, pulling it out almost entirely, before stuffing it back in, to the hilt. Her hand quickly grows slick, her toy, shiny and coated in thick arousal. She can feel her legs tense and sweat collect in the dip of her lower back. She’s already close.

And when she hears the sound of wet skin and a low moan from the other line, Zoe almost cums right then.

“Are you jerking off right now?” she asks instead, her swollen cunt squeezing around the silicone shaft.

“Shut up,” Sam half chuckles, half groans. The sloppy sound of his hand on his dick seems to quicken. “God, your Ass is fucking…thick. You’re so Hot.”

Boldly, Zoe confesses, “I’ve all the time wondered you’d be such a good fuck.”

“I am.”

“Prove it.”

“I will,” Sam’s breathing is labored and Zoe’s close. “But just, cum for me. Right now.”

Her body almost instantly reacts under Sam’s direction – she cries out, moaning Sam’s name and slicing the vibrator in and out of her sopping cunt, fucking herself through it. Sam grunts and lets out a string of curses, joining Zoe in Orgasm.

She slowly pulls her toy out, feeling the cum leak out of her cunt and dribble between her Ass. She’s shaking and can’t do anything but lie there, panting into the phone.

Sam breaks the silence first.

“I’ll text you later.” he says – and then he hangs up.

Zoe has a hard time looking Grant in the eye when he picks her up for college the next morning.