Eugene and Anneliese were up in her room. They’d just crafted a first draft of the paper for Mr. Moke’s 12^th grade English class: poetic textures. They’d done soft, rough, and slippery.

“You know what you said about sticky?” Anneliese asked.

Eugene blinked. “No, what?”

“Yes, you do,” Anneliese insisted. “You said your boy juice was sticky.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” Eugene admitted.

“Well, how sticky is it? Like superglue?”

“Maybe not that sticky,” Eugene said.

“You know what I think? I think we need to find out.”

“How would we do that?”

“You just need to provide a sample,” Anneliese said.

“You mean like right now?”

Anneliese nodded.

“The thing is, when I was touching you, I uh, I kind of came a little bit in my pants.”

“So? Does that mean you ran out of stuff? Or is it so sticky it’s glued your penis to your underwear and you can’t get it out?”

“I don’t think it’s that sticky,” Eugene said.

“I know that. Otherwise when people did it, they’d never come apart. The baby would be stuck inside forever. Or if they did a blowjob, the girl wouldn’t be able to open her mouth. She’d starve to death. Though I’ve heard that a guy’s stuff his food value.”

“You’re so funny,” Eugene said.

“Yeah, but I’m serious. I want to see your juice. Drop trou, my friend.”

Hesitantly Eugene lowered his pants.

A glimpse of Eugene’s underwear and Anneliese said, “Wow, it looks like you came a lot more than a little.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Eugene said. “You were so...”

“I was so what?”

“Arousing.”

“But I see your penis didn’t stick to your underwear. Maybe your cum isn’t so sticky after all.”

“Maybe it’s not,” Eugene said.

“Lucky for people who want to have sex. Or give blowjobs.”

“Lucky,” Eugene agreed.

“But I still want to see it. I want to see you come.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Eugene said.

“Why not?”

“The mood isn’t right.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Anneliese said. “But I have a solution.”

Anneliese turned off the room light and lit a candle.

“Is that better?” Anneliese asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make a mess on your table.”

“Good thinking,” Anneliese said. She placed their homework paper on the table next to the candle.

“Okay, Mister Juice Man, go to it.”

Eugene went to it.

The first two spurts of Eugene’s boy juice overshot the texture paper. Anneliese took hold of Eugene’s ejaculating penis and improved the aim.

“That was so fun,” she said, after she’d milked a few more strands onto the page.

“Now for the test,” Anneliese said.

“What test?”

“The stickiness test.” She dabbed her finger in one of the pools on the table. When she lifted her finger, some of the juice adhered. “It does feel sticky,” she conceded. She folded the juice-splatter texture paper in half. “We’ll let it dry, and then if we can’t get the paper apart...”

“What?”

Anneliese grinned. “If we can’t get the paper apart, I might be hesitant to blowjob you.”