Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two
Page 50
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“Answer the man,” Preppy said against my folds. He pulled out his finger only to push it back in.
“I’m here dad. I’m just...really tired so I’m just going to go to bed early,” I shouted back. Preppy thrust his tongue inside me and I arched my back.
“Yeah, I’m beat too, see you in the morning,” he said, I heard his door close and the second it clicked Preppy increased his efforts, relentlessly fucking my pussy with his tongue and my ass with his finger until I grabbed a pillow, smashed it over my own face, and screamed out my orgasm into goose down.
It was Preppy who eventually took the pillow off my face. “Thought you were suffocating under there,” he laughed.
“You’re such a shit,” I said.
He settled between my legs and pushed his entire massive length inside of me in one quick thrust. I was about to scream out again but he put two fingers in my mouth. “Bite down on me if you need to, but don’t make a sound, Doc,” Preppy said wickedly.
At first he built a slow rhythm again reaching behind me and pushing a finger into my ass which heightened everything his cock was doing in my pussy. He was making it impossible not to scream so I did what he said and I bit down on his hand. “That’s it, bite me. Show me how much you want to scream.”
I bit down harder and he responded by thrusting even harder. I was so wound up that when he bent down and bit my nipple I was already coming, the pleasure so great I was lost to anything but me and Preppy and the greatest fucking orgasm.
Preppy pulled out, coming in long hot streams of white over my neck and tits, claiming me, marking me, making me his.
Keeping me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DRE It was a good thing I was wearing a seatbelt because if I hadn’t been strapped down in the back seat I would’ve hit my head on the exposed metal roof of Billy’s van at least a dozen times as we navigated down the pothole infested street.
I put my arm across Bo’s shoulders and held him tighter to me. His own seatbelt might have been buckled but they were made for people of a certain size, not age. Bo might have been six years old but his belt was doing jack to actually keep him safe.
“He needs a booster seat,” I pointed out, trying to distract myself from anything other than where we were headed or the task at hand. For that moment it was transportation safety.
Preppy was in the passenger seat. He turned around and eyed the loose belt around Bo’s waist. “On it,” he said, pulling out his phone and quickly tapping on the keys. “Ray says she has an extra.”
Bo took that moment to smile up at me. I could feel his nervousness radiating off of him almost as much as I could feel my own. I saw it in the way his eyes shifted from object to object in the van like he was trying to find something to focus on yet when he smiled up at me it was if he were trying to comfort me, instead of the other way around.
Which was good, because I needed it.
My guts were twisting over and over again. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I wrung out my sweaty hands on my lap. The uneasy feeling only getting worse as we turned from the bumpy road into an even bumpier one past the rusted sign falling from the post that told us we were entering the trailer park.
From the back seat I could see Preppy’s entire body go completely stiff as we rolled past one dilapidated trailer after another.
Junk was piled high in front of almost every site. A middle aged couple stood in the middle of the road between a section of four trailers parked at angled facing one another. They didn’t budge when they saw us coming so Billy turned the wheel and maneuvered around them. The man was shirtless, wearing nothing but light colored jeans that were folded open at the fly as he chugged from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. He flicked us off as we passed. The woman, who was wearing a stained lavender tank top and a pair of cotton underwear, scowled although I wasn’t sure if it was meant for us or the man she was arguing with. When we’d passed them by I continued to watch out the back window. The man had turned his back on the woman and that’s when she leapt onto him, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly and screaming in a high pitch tone that made me grateful the windows were rolled up. The bottle fell from the man’s hand and rolled across the street as he stumbled for balance, it was the last I saw of them before we rounded the corner and they disappeared from view.
Bo was looking out the window as well although he seemed unfazed by the couple. It was when we turned that he reached for my hand and squeezed tightly, his little fingernails pressing down hard into the skin of my palm. He leaned against me and snuggled his face into my arm as he weren’t cutting off my circulation where our hands were joined.
He could squeeze as hard as he wanted. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to pull away.
Not then.
Not ever.
I had silently questioned why Billy was tagging along with us until we pulled up to our destination, a dimly lit trailer in the back of the park, and it dawned on me that Billy must have been there to keep an eye on Bo because there was no fucking way he was going to come inside with us. I wasn’t going to ever let him back inside that thing.
Ever.
Preppy hopped out of the van and I gave Bo’s hand a squeeze when the door was rolled open. “We’ll be right back. Stay with Billy, okay?” Preppy asked, holding out his fist for Bo to bump, which he did.
I got out and we rolled the door closed. Billy saluted Preppy as we turned toward the crumbling pile of aluminum in front of us. It looked like a junkyard and smelled like an open sewer. Pizza boxes, eggshells, fast food wrappers with flies buzzing over it littered the small sidewalk to the front steps. The smell of urine burned my nostrils as we approached the door.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked Preppy as he took my hand and raised it to his lips to give it a quick kiss.
“Fuck no.” He opened the door without knocking and stepped inside.
****
Bo’s mother, for lack of a better term, was named Trish. She didn’t stand up when we’d entered and I wasn’t sure if it was because she couldn’t or just didn’t want to. She was tiny and frail, perched on a tattered recliner with a knitted blanket with so many holes in it there was no way it served any kind of purpose. “Hope you two know that you’d be the ones getting a bum deal. Kid don’t even talk. Might even be a retard,” she said, looking from me to Preppy like we were the crazy ones.
“I’m here dad. I’m just...really tired so I’m just going to go to bed early,” I shouted back. Preppy thrust his tongue inside me and I arched my back.
“Yeah, I’m beat too, see you in the morning,” he said, I heard his door close and the second it clicked Preppy increased his efforts, relentlessly fucking my pussy with his tongue and my ass with his finger until I grabbed a pillow, smashed it over my own face, and screamed out my orgasm into goose down.
It was Preppy who eventually took the pillow off my face. “Thought you were suffocating under there,” he laughed.
“You’re such a shit,” I said.
He settled between my legs and pushed his entire massive length inside of me in one quick thrust. I was about to scream out again but he put two fingers in my mouth. “Bite down on me if you need to, but don’t make a sound, Doc,” Preppy said wickedly.
At first he built a slow rhythm again reaching behind me and pushing a finger into my ass which heightened everything his cock was doing in my pussy. He was making it impossible not to scream so I did what he said and I bit down on his hand. “That’s it, bite me. Show me how much you want to scream.”
I bit down harder and he responded by thrusting even harder. I was so wound up that when he bent down and bit my nipple I was already coming, the pleasure so great I was lost to anything but me and Preppy and the greatest fucking orgasm.
Preppy pulled out, coming in long hot streams of white over my neck and tits, claiming me, marking me, making me his.
Keeping me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DRE It was a good thing I was wearing a seatbelt because if I hadn’t been strapped down in the back seat I would’ve hit my head on the exposed metal roof of Billy’s van at least a dozen times as we navigated down the pothole infested street.
I put my arm across Bo’s shoulders and held him tighter to me. His own seatbelt might have been buckled but they were made for people of a certain size, not age. Bo might have been six years old but his belt was doing jack to actually keep him safe.
“He needs a booster seat,” I pointed out, trying to distract myself from anything other than where we were headed or the task at hand. For that moment it was transportation safety.
Preppy was in the passenger seat. He turned around and eyed the loose belt around Bo’s waist. “On it,” he said, pulling out his phone and quickly tapping on the keys. “Ray says she has an extra.”
Bo took that moment to smile up at me. I could feel his nervousness radiating off of him almost as much as I could feel my own. I saw it in the way his eyes shifted from object to object in the van like he was trying to find something to focus on yet when he smiled up at me it was if he were trying to comfort me, instead of the other way around.
Which was good, because I needed it.
My guts were twisting over and over again. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as I wrung out my sweaty hands on my lap. The uneasy feeling only getting worse as we turned from the bumpy road into an even bumpier one past the rusted sign falling from the post that told us we were entering the trailer park.
From the back seat I could see Preppy’s entire body go completely stiff as we rolled past one dilapidated trailer after another.
Junk was piled high in front of almost every site. A middle aged couple stood in the middle of the road between a section of four trailers parked at angled facing one another. They didn’t budge when they saw us coming so Billy turned the wheel and maneuvered around them. The man was shirtless, wearing nothing but light colored jeans that were folded open at the fly as he chugged from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. He flicked us off as we passed. The woman, who was wearing a stained lavender tank top and a pair of cotton underwear, scowled although I wasn’t sure if it was meant for us or the man she was arguing with. When we’d passed them by I continued to watch out the back window. The man had turned his back on the woman and that’s when she leapt onto him, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly and screaming in a high pitch tone that made me grateful the windows were rolled up. The bottle fell from the man’s hand and rolled across the street as he stumbled for balance, it was the last I saw of them before we rounded the corner and they disappeared from view.
Bo was looking out the window as well although he seemed unfazed by the couple. It was when we turned that he reached for my hand and squeezed tightly, his little fingernails pressing down hard into the skin of my palm. He leaned against me and snuggled his face into my arm as he weren’t cutting off my circulation where our hands were joined.
He could squeeze as hard as he wanted. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to pull away.
Not then.
Not ever.
I had silently questioned why Billy was tagging along with us until we pulled up to our destination, a dimly lit trailer in the back of the park, and it dawned on me that Billy must have been there to keep an eye on Bo because there was no fucking way he was going to come inside with us. I wasn’t going to ever let him back inside that thing.
Ever.
Preppy hopped out of the van and I gave Bo’s hand a squeeze when the door was rolled open. “We’ll be right back. Stay with Billy, okay?” Preppy asked, holding out his fist for Bo to bump, which he did.
I got out and we rolled the door closed. Billy saluted Preppy as we turned toward the crumbling pile of aluminum in front of us. It looked like a junkyard and smelled like an open sewer. Pizza boxes, eggshells, fast food wrappers with flies buzzing over it littered the small sidewalk to the front steps. The smell of urine burned my nostrils as we approached the door.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked Preppy as he took my hand and raised it to his lips to give it a quick kiss.
“Fuck no.” He opened the door without knocking and stepped inside.
****
Bo’s mother, for lack of a better term, was named Trish. She didn’t stand up when we’d entered and I wasn’t sure if it was because she couldn’t or just didn’t want to. She was tiny and frail, perched on a tattered recliner with a knitted blanket with so many holes in it there was no way it served any kind of purpose. “Hope you two know that you’d be the ones getting a bum deal. Kid don’t even talk. Might even be a retard,” she said, looking from me to Preppy like we were the crazy ones.
