Bishop (A Frat Chronicles Novel)

by B. T. Urruela

  “Dear Lord, marry me now, woman.”

  She snickers. “Good answer?”

  “The best answer!”

  “What about you?” she asks.

  “Well, all the ones you mentioned, for sure. The Walking Dead kind of wore me out after a while, so did SOA, but that’s just me. I gravitate toward comedies. I’ve seen all the dramas … Breaking Bad, Shameless … and they’re all good shows, but after a while, the drama just gets to be too much. A lot of that has to do with my rehab. For a long time, I was in and out of surgeries, stayin’ in a barracks where I knew no one, so TV shows and movies became my escape. The funnier they were, the better I felt.”

  She nods. “That definitely makes sense.” She runs her fingertips against my scar, slowly. “Does it bother you to talk about it?”

  “No, it really doesn’t. It’s been about three years now, and with it being on my face, I’ve gotten a lot of questions over that time.”

  “You’re probably sick of talking about it though.”

  “With strangers, yeah. But with people I’m tryin’ to get to know, I don’t mind. It’s a part of who I am. What would you like to know?”

  “Do you remember much of it?”

  “I remember everything leadin’ up to it.” I take a gulp, the images swirling my mind as they do when I think about it, the hot sun overhead, the death surrounding us, the sounds of gunfire, the smell of burning flesh distinct and pungent. “I remember my buddy gettin’ shot and I ran out to get him, tried to drag him out, and then we were hit. And it just went black. I woke up in a hospital in Germany with no clue as to how I got there or the events that transpired after the explosion. Everything I know I learned from reports.”

  “Did your buddy die?”

  I nod. “Two of them,” I mutter.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, resting a hand on top of mine and squeezing it.

  “It’s okay.” I force a smile, motioning to her purse resting beside us. “Can I get that flask though?” I chuckle nervously.

  She smirks, taking it out and handing it over.

  “I like your style, by the way,” I say, gesturing with the flask before I take a heavy swig.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The pink flask, the heels with the spikes on ’em, the Chucks, this little badass persona you carry around.”

  “It’s no persona,” she corrects me, snatching the flask from my hand. “It’s just me.” She takes a drink.

  “Well, I dig it.”

  “I dig you and your badass Army persona.”

  “No persona, my dear. I bleed Army. I was born and bred for it.”

  “What did you do over there?” she asks.

  “Infantry.”

  “Is that like the frontline guys?”

  I nod. “Yeah, we did a lot of raids, counter IED patrols, shit like that.”

  “Were you ever scared?”

  “Shitless.” I hesitate, letting the three deployments and how different each of them really were wash over me. “It was terrible at the beginning of my first one. I thought every day goin’ outside the wire was gonna be my last. But when it’s not, over a period of time, when you survive your first gunfight and IED blast, you sort of get used to it. It becomes your new normal. So you worry less. Of course, the fear comes back when you lose that first guy, and then the second, and the third, and every one thereafter. Because it reminds you that you’re not immortal. A lot of us veterans, active duty people, we have that feelin’ of invincibility, because we’ve experienced so much. We forget how easy it is to die out there. How valuable life really is.”

  Her eyes are saucers, her mouth in an O. “Wow… I’ve never really known anyone in the military, except Zane. And he only deployed once. I was scared to death when he did.”

  “What service was he in? I’ve noticed he doesn’t talk very much. Haven’t really gotten to know anything about him.”

  “He was Air Force. I’m not a hundred percent sure what he did. But you’re right. I’ve known him all these years and I still don’t really know him. He’s always been the quiet type.”

  “Fuckin’ Air Force,” I say, scoffing.

  “Oh yeah, you guys hate each other, right?”

  “It’s a healthy, competitive hate. Every Army guy wishes he were in the Air Force, even though we’d never really admit it. And every Air Force guy wishes he were on the frontlines doin’ the Lord’s work. They’d never admit it either. They’ve also got it ten times better than us lowlife soldiers. Better bases, more pay, better jobs.”

  “So why didn’t you go Air Force?”

  “Well, first off, my grades in high school were fuckin’ terrible. They didn’t want my ass. Second, I’ve always wanted to fight. I wanted to be that guy kickin’ down doors and gettin’ into firefights and shit.”

  “Was it everything you thought it would be?”

  “It was. It certainly was. I loved my time spent overseas. I loved fightin’, doin’ some good, helpin’ people. I guess I just never realized how much it all wears on you. Being in a state of high adrenaline over a year, year and a half period of time, it really gets to a human being. It scars you up real good.”

  “I love your scars.” She brushes a hand against my thick facial scars again.

  “Thank you.” I smile. “But I meant the internal ones.”

  “Well, I love those too.”

  “Lady, if you had even a glimpse of those, you’d be runnin’ for the hills.”

  She scoffs, shaking her head adamantly. “No, sir. We all have a little internal scarring, some have a lot, and considering yours were caused by serving this country, I think you get a pass.”

  “I don’t wanna pass. I just want ‘em all to go away.” I force a weak laugh. “Ugh, how did we even get on this subject?”

  “You sure it doesn’t bother you talking to me about it? Because it doesn’t bother me.”

  “No, I guess I’m still just tryin’ to make sense of it all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just, I don’t know, it’s all still so new. I was in the Army fightin’ the enemy for years, until one day I got blown up and the fightin’ just … stopped. And then I was in the hospital fightin’ to get better. And that gave me a healthy distraction for a while. Now, I’m just a civilian. Now, what am I fightin’ for?”

  “Why not look at it as a fresh start?”

  “Oh, I certainly have. I do. But with every fresh start comes the fear of failure. The fear of the unknown.”

  “The unknown can be scary, yeah, but it can be exciting too.” She takes both of my hands into hers and squeezes. “You never know what lies ahead.”

  “More liquor in my future, I think. And some other things.” I grin, setting a hand to her cheek and kissing her.

  “Pizza?” she asks against my lips.

  “And …”

  “Saved by the Bell?” She smiles.

  God, that fuckin’ smile might end me.

  “And…”

  She reaches a hand toward my crotch, grabbing a handful of dick. “Oh my,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “You’re going to do something with that thing, I hope. I mean, that is if you haven’t drunk too much.”

  I take her beer from her, setting it on the nightstand along with my own. Then I throw her back against the bed, straddling her as I pin her arms down.

  “Not a chance,” I say, peppering her neck with kisses, her soft skin blushing with my touch.

  She moans, arching her hips up into me as I work my lips and tongue up her neck.

  As my lips meet her ear, I whisper, “As much as I love this dress, I think we need to get you out of it.”

  She glances up toward her hands, still pinned to the mattress. “I may need those back then.”

  “Aw, come on,” I say, releasing her hands and sitting up. “I thought you had skills.”

  “Oh, you’re about to find out just what kinds of skills I possess,” she purrs as she sits up and moves her hands behind
her back, struggling with the zipper. “Hands-free dress removal is not one of them.”

  She manages to unzip her dress and slips the straps off her shoulders. I slide it down her body, and as I do, I admire her flawless skin, a large tattoo of Little Red Riding Hood on her ribcage. Little Red is perched on a swing amongst a densely populated forest of dead trees; a wolf peers from the distance. I trace the tattoo with a finger as I toss her dress to the floor.

  “That is fuckin’ epic,” I say, admiring the smooth line work and rich colors. My finger moves from her ink, down to the see-through satin panties she’s wearing, the curves of her pussy lips defined and bringing a wave of desire over me. “These are epic too.”

  “You like?”

  “Fuckin’ do I. I’d have to be a lunatic not to.”

  “I wore them just for you,” she says, and I tilt my head.

  “Did you now?”

  “I sure did.”

  “So, you were anticipatin’ us hookin’ up tonight, huh?”

  “If you turned me down again, you would’ve gotten a heel to the balls.”

  “Oh, really now. Brady not cuttin’ it anymore?”

  Her mouth gapes, her brows pinched together as she says, “Ugh, your timing is terrible. I’m just about naked in your bed and you bring him up?”

  As she tries to wiggle her way out from beneath me, I put a hand to her shoulder. “Wait, wait, wait … rewind. Let’s pretend I never said that, okay?”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know. The mood is waning. I might need a little encouragement.” As she leans back on her elbows, she passes me a cocky little shrug, eyeing her pussy.

  “I think that can be arranged. You just lay back like a good little girl and let me make you come.”

  She points a finger at me, narrowing her eyes, and says, “There are no good girls in this room. Now, do something with your mouth besides talking.” She grins, laying back.

  “Yes ma’am,” I say, leaning down and kissing her stomach. Her abs clench against me, her body writhing as I move closer to her core.

  I don’t start on her pussy right off the bat, instead, biting her inner thigh, licking the spot where her panty line meets skin, and then blowing the saliva dry.

  She lets out a quiet moan, a hand moving to my head where she grabs a fistful of hair.

  “You better fucking stop teasing me, mister.”

  In response, I lick her pussy lips lightly over the thin fabric. She tightens her grip on the good bit of my hair she has clutched in her hand. She drives her hips into my face. With her other hand, she pulls her panties to the side, exposing the most beautiful pussy, and I have to take a second to admire it, to thank my lucky stars that it’s me who gets to see it, and taste it, and touch it. I knew it was going to be good by the way it indented the slick satin of her panties, but hell, that pussy is perfect!

  “Dear God, that’s a PSP if I’ve ever seen one,” I mutter, giving my head a quick shake.

  “PSP?”

  “Porn Star Pussy. It belongs on film.”

  “Well, thank you. But I don’t think so. Now, less talky, more licky,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh. She laughs too but does her best to stifle it.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” I swoop down, sliding my tongue against her hot entrance, collecting up the wetness that has already taken hold, and then I replace her hand with mine, gripping her panty line and pulling it even further to the side. I want to see the whole thing. I want to savor this moment.

  She uses her free hand to grab the remainder of my hair—at least it feels like it—and she lets out a loud gasp, pushing my head into her. I continue licking and sucking on her hot little clit. I can’t get over the taste of it. So good. I could stay down here for hours cleaning her up, hearing her breathy moans, feeling her thighs quivering against my head. I’ve always loved eating a girl out. Shit, it’s essential. But this is something else. This woman has some magic going on down here, or else sex with Joanne wasn’t as good as my memory serves me.

  It’s then, my tongue mid-stride, I think of Seymour Butts, a curly-haired Jewish man—rail-thin, with a dick T-Rex would envy. I came to know him through a popular porn film amongst military men. This particular film has been passed from one soldier’s external hard drive to another to another in an endless chain. In the video, Mr. Butts teaches men how to make a woman squirt. In all the things I’ve learned, in all the years of my life, Mr. Seymour Butts is responsible for the most important. He has brought hours of pleasure to tens of thousands of military spouses, girlfriends, and post-deployment one-night stands over the years, and as her beautiful pussy sits before me, I can’t wait to see if I can get her going.

  Still licking her clit, I inch two thick fingers inside her, her pussy clenching around them, which makes me want to fuck her right then and there, but I refrain. I love the tease. I crave it. Like pleasuring a woman (And head for that matter), it’s essential for good sex. With the pads of my fingers resting inside her, I start a come-hither motion with them, intensifying the pressure with each movement of my fingers, speeding up as she grinds against me for more.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps, squirming against the mattress. “Oh my fuck, that feels so good.”

  I continue with this finger movement as I feel the inside of her pussy swell, readying itself to squirt. Licking her bud harder now, I circle it with my tongue and take it into my mouth, sucking it as she pushes her body up into me, her heels digging into the mattress. I know I’m close. I’m so fucking excited, I don’t let up with my tongue or fingers, working them both uniformly until I get it—she lifts her hips completely off the mattress, her pussy digging into my face as she lets out gasps into the palm of her hand. The fingernails on her other hand dig into my shoulder as her cum sprays onto my tongue. I keep the pressure going with my fingers, trying to push her to the brink. As much as she’s squirted onto my mattress and into my mouth, I’m guessing she’s never done this before.

  She slaps her palms against the mattress, looking up with disorientated eyes as she takes in the mess of cum now wetting her ass… wetting everything. She puts a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I’ve never done that before.”

  “Sorry?” I ask, shaking my head. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. That was fuckin’ sexy.”

  I push her back down, pulling her soaked panties off and tossing them to the floor with her dress. She follows suit with her bra, and my God, her tits are perfect little handfuls, nipples made for sucking.

  “You need to be inside me, right now.” She breathes heavy, taking me in with seductive eyes.

  “You don’t gotta ask me twice, darlin’.” I unbuckle my belt, stripping it off quickly and tossing it to the floor, before I shed my pants and throw them into the quickly accumulating pile of clothing at the base of my bed. My boxer briefs go next, and before they’re even at my ankles, my cock is fully erect, a bit of precum at the tip.

  Naked now, I settle the head of my dick against her. I work the tip in circles around her entrance, combining my precum with the beautiful mess left behind from her orgasm. A dizzying buzz trails from my cock to my groin with every brush of my head against her clit, and then travels throughout my body. The warmth reverberates, her wetness teasing my head and making it throb with excitement. I love the way she looks at me as I stand over her, the way she bites her bottom lip. Her submissive nature in bed is a stark contrast to her normal self, which makes it that much hotter. A wave of adrenaline washes over me as I enter her slowly.

  I settle inside her, the feeling electrifying. Letting out a pleasured sigh, I work my shaft in and out slowly, watching her every movement, admiring the way her hands clinch the bedspread.

  “My God,” I gasp as I pick up the pace; her wetness surrounds me, warms me, drives me. I crave the feeling.

  “Yes, yes,” she breathes, her hands moving to my stomach, her fingernails raking my abs. “Fuck me, Bishop. I want your cum. I want to taste it.”

  Hoooooooly shit.


  Any time a woman has said ‘I want to taste your cum, or ‘come on my face’, my dick is in genitalia heaven. It becomes difficult to control. I think baseball, curling, a Michael Moore documentary.

  Not yet, dude!

  Her eyes stare daggers into me, her hands roaming my body. I can feel the come stirring but continue fighting it off. I want her to go again. As I pull completely out of her, she gasps, her legs quivering as I guide her to her side. Bending one leg and keeping the other one straight, her beautiful round ass is completely exposed, feeding my yearning to return.

  “You have such a beautiful ass, woman,” I say, taking both cheeks in my hands and squeezing them. Spreading them, I lean down and lightly stroke my tongue against her asshole. She squeals and then lets out a moan.

  “Holy fuck,” she gasps as I circle her tight little hole with my tongue. She reaches back and grabs a fistful of my hair, driving my face into her. Tasting her makes my dick harder than I thought possible and makes the desire to be inside her again too much to bear.

  Straightening back up, I grab ahold of her hips and drive my cock inside her. It tightens around me, letting me know she’s close. I pick up the pace, driving my hips into her, feeding off every squeal and moan, breathless gasps, and the way she looks back at me with those hungry, insatiable eyes. I work my fingers against her clit in motion with my hips.

  “I’m gonna come!” she shouts, her hands splayed out and grabbing for the pillows. Her body shakes as I drive into her. I can feel a swell at the base of my cock, a tingle that lets me know this orgasm is going to be a good one.

  As she screams out, her pussy constricting against me, her toes curling, I feel the buzz rush from the base of my cock through my shaft and back again. I pull out just as the orgasm is about to hit. As I start to jerkoff, she hops to her knees and slaps my hand away lightly, and takes my dick from me, putting it in her mouth and deep throating every inch immediately.

  “Fuuuuuck.” The word escapes my mouth without thought, simply driven by utter satisfaction. I throw my head back and groan as the cum releases into her eager mouth, and my limbs go numb, or at least it feels like it.