Leave.
She was definitely venturing out on the wrong side of the causeway, but it didn’t matter because her skirt was short, her legs were long, and in all honesty, my checklist for who I stuck my dick in during those days wasn’t much longer than that.
Actually, that was it.
“Hey there,” she said, taking a sip from whatever drink was in her red plastic cup. I hoped she hadn’t gotten it from Prep, ’cause if so there was so telling what the fuck was in it.
“I got a room here,” I told her, cutting to the chase and because I’d never had to put any real effort into talking a girl into fucking me. “Wanna see it?”
“Lead the way,” she whispered seductively. I grabbed her hand and dragged her toward my apartment. I laughed under my breath as she struggled to still look sexy while walking across the uneven grass in six inch heels. I walked her into the garage and stopped just short of the apartment door. I hoisted her up onto of the toolboxes in the garage. My favorite toolbox. It was the perfect height for what I needed it for.
“I thought you had an apartment?” she asked.
“I do, it’s in there,” I said pointing to the door that was so close I could reach out and touch the handle. “But I couldn’t wait, baby,” I lied, saying the same thing I’d told countless other girls who wondered why they were being banged on top of a bunch of greasy rags in a dark garage that smelled like oil and rust.
Chicks never made it further than the toolbox, and in some cases, never further than the dock, or even that one patch of clearing in the woods. I nuzzled her neck and did the minimum foreplay required not to piss off a chick before sleeving up my dick and shoving on home.
Spring Break Chick was good. Not great.
Great wouldn’t come to me for years.
For those days though, she was as good as I got it, although she’d tried to kiss me which wasn’t my deal. Making out was for fucking teenagers. I was eighteen and well into my stick-my-dick-in-it or nothing stage.
That night wasn’t the first night I felt like I was being watched while I was with a girl. I looked out the garage window to the party-goers and knew for a fact that the people by the bonfire couldn’t see in. I always made it a point not to turn the lights on, but still, the feeling wouldn’t go away.
“What are you looking for?” Spring Break Chick asked, panting like a small hairy dog left out in the hot summer sun.
“Nothing,” I lied. I was looking for something, all right, but it was more like a someone. I closed my eyes and pushed hard into her, trying to concentrate. She moaned and put on a good show but I was still distracted by the uneasy feeling that someone was there. I was growing bored of the girl and tired of my half assed attempt at fucking her. I picked up the pace so I could just come and be done with it.
That’s when I learned Spring Break Chick was a screamer.
Over and over again she bucked against me when I hit bottom and it rallied me on. It wasn’t too bad over the top fake shit, which I’d seen my share of, especially with the BBBs. This girl was honestly getting off by riding on my cock and, I was feeling it.
“You gonna come, pretty girl?” I asked, not because I thought she was really that pretty, but because I had no fucking clue what her name was.
I never did.
“Yes. YES!” she shouted. She gripped my neck and dug her nails into my skin as I pounded into her. It was then I saw it. First it was just out of the corner of my eye. A flash of movement. But as the shadows in the garage shifted I realized that the it was a him.
When he noticed he’d been caught, he stepped completely free of the shadows and into the one spot of moonlight penetrating through the window. Anywhere else in the garage and he’d be cloaked in darkness.
He’d wanted to be seen.
Preppy.
He wasn’t jerking off. His pants were on and his belt buckle fastened. He wasn’t even making his usual sarcastic comments.
He was just watching. Not me. But her. His eyes glowing under the light as he looked her over like she was an exhibit at the Ringling Brothers museum.
I paused briefly, Preppy’s presence throwing off my rhythm. “Why did you stop?” the girl asked. I could have outed Preppy for being a creeper right then and there, shouted at him to go. But I didn’t. There was something in the way he was watching that made me feel like it was okay for him to stay, okay for him to keep watching.
I kept going.
Again Spring Break Chick started to moan, writhing up against me, scraping her nails down my back. Preppy was one of my closest friends and I wasn’t a stranger to sharing bitches with my brothers in the club, although it was more of a BBB jumping from room to room without everyone in the same room at the same time.
I got the oddest feeling while Preppy stood there, not making a sound. Almost like he needed this for some reason. Needed to see what normal fucking looked like.
Like he needed to be a part of what we were doing.
Preppy was one of my best friends.
So I let him.
It was the quietest he’d ever been. Since the day we’d met, I’d never known him to go more than a few seconds without talking, but as I thrust my dick harder and harder into the girl, he was almost stoic. When I noticed he was staring at her tits, I yanked her poor excuse for a shirt—a small scrap of silk—up to her neck, so he could get a good look at them bouncing up and down as I fucked her.
His eyes glowed in appreciation and he nodded his thanks.
Figuring out Preppy was hard. From what King had told me about his past, he’d had a rough start in life. We all had. Preppy a little harder than most, but he never talked about it.
Ever.
I didn’t fault him for that. I didn’t exactly ever want to talk about my old man either.
The thing was that Preppy could get girls.
He did get girls.
He wasn’t as tall as me or King, but he was still tall. He was still ripped to shreds, which came easier to him than it did for me because he started out a skinny kid, but when he started working out, he went right to ripped and lean. Other than a few inches of height and a few pounds of muscle he had something that both King and I were seriously lacking on some days.
Humor.
Personality.
Wit.
Charm.
When the girl’s pussy started to clench around my dick, the squeezing sensation caused my balls tighten. I looked over to Preppy who was as still as I’d ever seen him. No twitching or shoving his hands in his pockets or running his hands through his hair. Just looking. Watching. Observing.
I was getting close so I shoved the girl down on the toolbox so that her back was flush against the diamond shaped metal. I held on to her shoulders as I plowed into her, making sure to drag my cock along the front walls of her pussy as I pulled in and out. Her larger than average tits bounced up and down, and as soon as she came I followed her over, although it was more like a sneeze than a come because I was more preoccupied thinking about our company and what it meant that he was there, than I was about actually getting off.
“That was…wow,” the girl said, sitting up. I pulled out of her and tugged off the condom, throwing it in a nearby trashcan. “Wanna go again?” she asked, wrapping her long legs around my waist and digging her heels into my back, pulling me forward.
“You want more?” I asked, holding her face in my hands. She reached out and licked one of my fingers.
She was definitely venturing out on the wrong side of the causeway, but it didn’t matter because her skirt was short, her legs were long, and in all honesty, my checklist for who I stuck my dick in during those days wasn’t much longer than that.
Actually, that was it.
“Hey there,” she said, taking a sip from whatever drink was in her red plastic cup. I hoped she hadn’t gotten it from Prep, ’cause if so there was so telling what the fuck was in it.
“I got a room here,” I told her, cutting to the chase and because I’d never had to put any real effort into talking a girl into fucking me. “Wanna see it?”
“Lead the way,” she whispered seductively. I grabbed her hand and dragged her toward my apartment. I laughed under my breath as she struggled to still look sexy while walking across the uneven grass in six inch heels. I walked her into the garage and stopped just short of the apartment door. I hoisted her up onto of the toolboxes in the garage. My favorite toolbox. It was the perfect height for what I needed it for.
“I thought you had an apartment?” she asked.
“I do, it’s in there,” I said pointing to the door that was so close I could reach out and touch the handle. “But I couldn’t wait, baby,” I lied, saying the same thing I’d told countless other girls who wondered why they were being banged on top of a bunch of greasy rags in a dark garage that smelled like oil and rust.
Chicks never made it further than the toolbox, and in some cases, never further than the dock, or even that one patch of clearing in the woods. I nuzzled her neck and did the minimum foreplay required not to piss off a chick before sleeving up my dick and shoving on home.
Spring Break Chick was good. Not great.
Great wouldn’t come to me for years.
For those days though, she was as good as I got it, although she’d tried to kiss me which wasn’t my deal. Making out was for fucking teenagers. I was eighteen and well into my stick-my-dick-in-it or nothing stage.
That night wasn’t the first night I felt like I was being watched while I was with a girl. I looked out the garage window to the party-goers and knew for a fact that the people by the bonfire couldn’t see in. I always made it a point not to turn the lights on, but still, the feeling wouldn’t go away.
“What are you looking for?” Spring Break Chick asked, panting like a small hairy dog left out in the hot summer sun.
“Nothing,” I lied. I was looking for something, all right, but it was more like a someone. I closed my eyes and pushed hard into her, trying to concentrate. She moaned and put on a good show but I was still distracted by the uneasy feeling that someone was there. I was growing bored of the girl and tired of my half assed attempt at fucking her. I picked up the pace so I could just come and be done with it.
That’s when I learned Spring Break Chick was a screamer.
Over and over again she bucked against me when I hit bottom and it rallied me on. It wasn’t too bad over the top fake shit, which I’d seen my share of, especially with the BBBs. This girl was honestly getting off by riding on my cock and, I was feeling it.
“You gonna come, pretty girl?” I asked, not because I thought she was really that pretty, but because I had no fucking clue what her name was.
I never did.
“Yes. YES!” she shouted. She gripped my neck and dug her nails into my skin as I pounded into her. It was then I saw it. First it was just out of the corner of my eye. A flash of movement. But as the shadows in the garage shifted I realized that the it was a him.
When he noticed he’d been caught, he stepped completely free of the shadows and into the one spot of moonlight penetrating through the window. Anywhere else in the garage and he’d be cloaked in darkness.
He’d wanted to be seen.
Preppy.
He wasn’t jerking off. His pants were on and his belt buckle fastened. He wasn’t even making his usual sarcastic comments.
He was just watching. Not me. But her. His eyes glowing under the light as he looked her over like she was an exhibit at the Ringling Brothers museum.
I paused briefly, Preppy’s presence throwing off my rhythm. “Why did you stop?” the girl asked. I could have outed Preppy for being a creeper right then and there, shouted at him to go. But I didn’t. There was something in the way he was watching that made me feel like it was okay for him to stay, okay for him to keep watching.
I kept going.
Again Spring Break Chick started to moan, writhing up against me, scraping her nails down my back. Preppy was one of my closest friends and I wasn’t a stranger to sharing bitches with my brothers in the club, although it was more of a BBB jumping from room to room without everyone in the same room at the same time.
I got the oddest feeling while Preppy stood there, not making a sound. Almost like he needed this for some reason. Needed to see what normal fucking looked like.
Like he needed to be a part of what we were doing.
Preppy was one of my best friends.
So I let him.
It was the quietest he’d ever been. Since the day we’d met, I’d never known him to go more than a few seconds without talking, but as I thrust my dick harder and harder into the girl, he was almost stoic. When I noticed he was staring at her tits, I yanked her poor excuse for a shirt—a small scrap of silk—up to her neck, so he could get a good look at them bouncing up and down as I fucked her.
His eyes glowed in appreciation and he nodded his thanks.
Figuring out Preppy was hard. From what King had told me about his past, he’d had a rough start in life. We all had. Preppy a little harder than most, but he never talked about it.
Ever.
I didn’t fault him for that. I didn’t exactly ever want to talk about my old man either.
The thing was that Preppy could get girls.
He did get girls.
He wasn’t as tall as me or King, but he was still tall. He was still ripped to shreds, which came easier to him than it did for me because he started out a skinny kid, but when he started working out, he went right to ripped and lean. Other than a few inches of height and a few pounds of muscle he had something that both King and I were seriously lacking on some days.
Humor.
Personality.
Wit.
Charm.
When the girl’s pussy started to clench around my dick, the squeezing sensation caused my balls tighten. I looked over to Preppy who was as still as I’d ever seen him. No twitching or shoving his hands in his pockets or running his hands through his hair. Just looking. Watching. Observing.
I was getting close so I shoved the girl down on the toolbox so that her back was flush against the diamond shaped metal. I held on to her shoulders as I plowed into her, making sure to drag my cock along the front walls of her pussy as I pulled in and out. Her larger than average tits bounced up and down, and as soon as she came I followed her over, although it was more like a sneeze than a come because I was more preoccupied thinking about our company and what it meant that he was there, than I was about actually getting off.
“That was…wow,” the girl said, sitting up. I pulled out of her and tugged off the condom, throwing it in a nearby trashcan. “Wanna go again?” she asked, wrapping her long legs around my waist and digging her heels into my back, pulling me forward.
“You want more?” I asked, holding her face in my hands. She reached out and licked one of my fingers.
