by Liz Crowe
“Mmmm…” she sighed, reaching back to clutch at his hair. He could smell the wax from the candles, the scented oil she used the night before. Her spicy need made him a craven creature, a slave to his own dick. He loved every blessed, decadent minute of it.
He reached around and flicked at her clit, which had emerged from its hood, erect and ready for him as he rubbed against her ass, practicing his new orgasm self-denial skills. “Do it, baby,” she whispered. “Come all over my ass. I can tell you want to.”
“Yeah,” he grunted, loving how she could anticipate his need. He kept up his finger movement against her sex. “Come with me, Mindy.” He bit down on her shoulder, loving her taste as the climax gripped him, bringing that strange combination of extreme pleasure and a flicker of fear. “Come on, baby. Show me.”
“Put it in me, Jack.” She sighed, arching back just enough so his already cum-slickened shaft slipped between her legs and hovered, just outside her. “Oh, please,” her voice quavered a little.
Jack stopped, put his hands on her hips. “Your rule, Mindy. You’ve trained me well.” He started to turn and grab a properly sized rubber from the stack beside the bed but she rolled to her knees, presenting that amazing, sweet ass to him. She peered at him from between the messy strands of her hair. He stared, his mouth watering at the sight, frozen.
“But…I can’t…. Oh yes….” Yet even as he knew he should not, he did. Sliding in deep with a long stroke and fucking her bareback, making her cry out as he threaded the fingers of one hand in her long hair and pulled while hanging onto one hip with the other. It was glorious. It was amazing. It was totally without protection.
“Oh shit…I’m gonna come.” He yanked her head back, loving that moment when she cried out in pain and pleasure and arched her back so he could go even deeper.
“Yes! Jack!” she said softly, gently, as he groaned and came for what felt like an hour and a half, his body shaking, teeth chattering, his brain shutting before he flopped down and his eyes started to close.
Mindy draped herself across him. He held her close and drifted off, ignoring the voice in his head of Brandis berating him for being absent, going “off the radar.” Shit, if Brandis had this same setup, he’d hide away with her too. He smiled to himself and slept.
Chapter Six
“Jack!” He heard his name, rolled over, tried to hug her close. But his hand found air. “Jack! Goddamn it.” Something hit his head, and then again.
“Cut it out.” He grabbed at it, still half asleep, aching deep in his muscles, his cock raw and sore under the sheet. “Go the hell away.” Once he realized he was in his own bed without Mindy to curl around and mess with, his mood darkened immediately.
The whole of the last few weeks had been a blur, but a pleasant one. Until recently, when Jack had been getting a distinct sensation of rejection, of having to work too hard for Mindy’s attention. It was pissing him the fuck off. And setting off all sorts of alarm bells.
“Get up, you ass.” Brandis’ voice was clear now. “Your room is a pigsty. Are you on drugs or something? Drugs you aren’t sharing? Because I’ve never seen you like this. Get up!” The pillow hit him again, making him grunt, sit, and glare at his oldest friend.
For some reason, the serious look on the boy’s dark-skinned face made Jack want to burst into laughter at the utter absurdity of what he’d been doing —fucking himself into sweet oblivion. In every possible way, shape, and position with the woman who, at the same time, wanted to marry his father.
He groaned and lay back, tugging the blanket up over his eyes, wishing the whole stinking mess away.
“Come on, dickhead. Let’s go…. I need some hoops time, and I’m sick of your excuses.” Brandis stood to his full six-foot-three inches, glaring down at Jack.
Jack blinked then put his feet on the floor, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to sort out why he was so pissed off. He was the same guy in the same body, albeit one that had come a long way since he’d walked into the office that day eager to go to a party and grope a girl.
“All right.” He got up and stretched, relishing the way his sore muscles sang out and his body tingled all over. “Hold your water.” He made his way to the bathroom, took a piss after his morning hard-on receded, then wandered out naked. He grinned at Brandis who’d reached for Jack’s not-so-secret stash of “Penthouse” mags.
Jack got dressed, then flopped back onto his bed and put an arm over his eyes. His head still pounded from lack of sleep and a strange sort of elusive stress he couldn’t pin down. Oh, right. Mindy. She of the teaching skills who had let him more or less live with her for nearly three months then told him last night he needed to “move on.” To “find some girls his own age and use his new skills on them.” This after he’d fucked her standing up, in the hallway, unable to even wait the short few steps to the bedroom.
Jack ran a slightly shaking hand down his face. Truth was, he didn’t want any “girls his own age.” He wanted nothing more than to hole up with Mindy, eat the crappy Chinese takeout she loved, and just watch whatever she wanted on TV. To simply be with her, content, totally at ease in his skin.
Well, and fucking her a lot, like four or five times a day. He sighed as his cock stirred to life, then sat, needing to redirect his energy. Maybe Brandis was right. He needed to get out and use his body for something other than getting laid.
“Let’s go before you have to spank your monkey all over my magazine.” Jack smacked the titty mag out of his friend’s hand and walked out of his room.
“Are you calling me a monkey, you racist pig?” Brandis ran past him into the hall, hitting the door and tumbling out into the light of the early summer day, making Jack smile.
“No. Just a poor, sex-starved loser. I couldn’t give a fuck less what color you are.”
“Ha, you don’t know me very well, do you?” Brandis snapped, tossing Jack a basketball then climbing behind the wheel of his Shelby Charger. “Don’t get your loser germs on my leather seats.”
Jack grinned, flipped his friend off, then licked his palm and wiped it, ostentatiously, across the steering wheel. “There. Some of my ‘hitting it with regularity’ mojo for ya.”
Brandis snorted. “You’re such a liar.”
“Oh no, I’m not,” Jack said mildly, staring out the window and trying to come to terms with how lonely he felt at that moment.
They screeched out onto the quiet street, stereo blaring, and parked at the high school where a couple of outdoor courts were already busy. Brandis kept his hands on the wheel a minute, staring out the windshield. Jack barely noticed, so sunk in his own stew of self-pity.
“Where have you been?” he said quietly.
Jack blinked then looked at his friend. “What do you…?”
Brandis held up a hand. “Gordon, it’s not like I need you around me or anything but shit, dude, you are like…gone somewhere. You’ve missed the team workouts more than once. You never go out on the weekends. I mean…what is it?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” Jack said, suddenly needing to spill it, to tell somebody. Why not his best friend since elementary school? He rolled the basketball around in his hands, its familiar leather contours comforting.
“Try me.”
“I’ve been, uh, sort of hanging out, I mean, staying over…um…well,” he sighed and rubbed his neck. “I’ve been banging my father’s secretary nearly constantly for about three months. She’s um…been teaching me stuff and…ah….” He stopped, glanced at his friend who was staring at him, open-mouthed. “What?” Jack frowned, suddenly angry. “This is too much for you?”
“Je-sus H. Christ. You lucky bastard!” Brandis smacked his shoulder. “Damn. I thought you were in a cult or got some bad acid or…I don’t know. Fuck!” He pounded the steering wheel. “Finally, no longer the Big V!”
“Shut up,” Jack muttered, the day darkening around him again. He wanted Mindy, needed her. Did not want to be here, doing this. That made him fu
rious with himself. He jumped out of the car and headed for the court. Movement, that would help and mindless hours of playing his favorite game.
Jack spent the rest of the day focused on not missing Mindy. Doing everything in his power to regain his equilibrium, to not be the sniveling, douchebag of a kid he felt like—the one who’d give anything to be in her bed, between her legs, kissing her, touching her.
He played basketball for three hours, drenching his shirt and hair and getting wobbly from lack of food. But it was good. And by the time Brandis dropped him at home he felt a little less like a needy loser. He showered, took Mo out for burgers and ice cream and promised he’d play board games with her all night if she wanted.
She was ecstatic, back to her nonstop talkative self. By the time she’d fallen asleep draped over his lap while a video of “The Wizard of Oz” played in the family room, Jack had a small sensation of peace nestled in his chest. He allowed himself to drift, the sound of the movie, the feel of his sister’s warm body against him relaxing.
His father’s angry cursing forced him awake and to stare around in panic as he got his bearings. Mo was gone. She must have put herself to bed. He lay sprawled on the couch, half on, half off, and must have been dead asleep for a couple of hours.
“You,” his father said, slurring, wobbling around and holding a beer bottle. His laugh was harsh, and Jack steeled himself for the usual round of ignoring the man’s insults and trying not to punch his idiot lights out.
He rubbed his eyes, got to his feet. The time with Mindy had numbed him to John Gordon’s regular ranting, to his various bullshit tirades laced with long bouts of silence. A small sliver of guilt sliced through him when he realized that his little sister had been left to take the brunt of their father’s crap for the past weeks.
Well that was over now. He was back in control. He’d see Mindy, sure, mess around with her no doubt. But it would not comprise the be-all, end-all of his existence anymore.
He tried to shuffle past the man who stood, swaying slightly, in his way. His father stopped him with a firm hand against Jack’s chest. “You are an idiot.” The last word spat, literally, as a spray of saliva hit Jack’s face, making him close his eyes.
“Whatever, Dad. I’m going to bed.” He pushed the hand off his chest.
The man laughed again, harsh, loud, making Jack’s scalp prickle with dread. “No, really. Jack, son, are you that stupid? That naïve? You knocked her up, you goddamned walking, talking horn dog.”
Jack stared, trying to compute what was being said, but unable or unwilling to as he watched his father drop into his usual chair and plop his feet on the ottoman. “Fucking idiot,” he muttered, letting the beer bottle fall to the carpet.
“What are you talking about?” His jaw clenched so tight it hurt, but he was unable to move from his spot across the room.
His father sat up, fixed him with a bleary glare, and pointed. “I got your cherry popped, son. Bought and paid for the Lose-My-Virginity party, I did. And what do you do? How do you repay me? Jesus.” He flopped back and stared at the ceiling. “You ruin the best piece of ass I’ve had in years, with your stupidity. You don’t fuck a woman without a rubber. Christ. That’s how they get you.” He leered at Jack, who was convinced he was having a heart attack. “Every time… they get you with their bullshit.” He got up, stared at his son for a few seconds. “Don’t stand there with your mouth hanging open like a retard. Get me a beer. I took care of it. Don’t worry. But don’t count on seeing her ever again either, stupid cunt.”
Jack’s vision dimmed, and he barely remembered the next few minutes. As a matter of fact, the next thing he knew Mo was crying, yanking on his arm as he reared back to punch his father’s nose, again. This time the man had been ready for him and landed his own blows, defended himself enough that Jack’s own face bore bruises, and his nose was crooked for a week until he got the damn thing re-set.
He did see Mindy again once when she was cleaning out her desk at work a few days after the confrontation. She was teary-eyed but didn’t speak, until he followed her out to her car and tried to hold her, kiss her, tell her how sorry he was that they’d both been so badly screwed by his father.
“Jack,” she’d muttered into his chest as he held her close and tried not to yell. “Don’t be him. Whatever you do.” A tear dropped from her lashes. He touched it, panicked fury beating its bat wings against the inside of his ribcage, hurting him, making him furious and wanting to hit something. “I…I’ll miss you.” She leaned into him.
He pulled back, held onto her arms. “Tell me something,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Why? I mean…how much did he give you to…fuck me?”
She kept her eyes down, staying quiet so long he thought she hadn’t heard his question. “I took his money that first time. But I gave it back the next day, and wouldn’t take any more after that. I told him….” She put a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes. Jack felt his heart pounding, as a bizarre combination of anger and frustration grabbed his gut. He tried not to shake her.
“Told him what?” He croaked out.
“I told him he could keep his money. That I….” She looked down again, biting her lip. “I promised him I wouldn’t tell you this if he helped me…now.”
Jack dropped to his knees, a raging desperation roiling through him. “I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t go. Stay. I want to be with you…please…it’s okay. A baby, it will be…fine.” He heard himself begging and hated it, but couldn’t halt the rush of words. “Mindy. God, please….” He dropped to his knees, held onto her for dear life.
She threaded her fingers in his hair until he got control of himself again and stood. He tried to kiss her but she kept avoiding him. “No, Jackie. You don’t love me. And the last thing you need is to…well, let’s just say it’s one thing your father and I do agree on.” She took a breath. “I did love being your first.” She touched her fingers to his lips. “I only wish….” Then she stopped and broke off a little piece of his heart in the process.
She got into her car without another word. He knocked on her window, fear at her leaving for good making him breathless. He hated how he felt right then. Wanted that terrified sensation gone, never to feel it again. That dependence on someone else—it was…not good. He had to banish it. She shook her head and wouldn’t roll down her window. So he stepped back as she gunned the engine and peeled out into the street.
His head pounding with fury, he jumped into the truck and headed straight for Brandis’s place. “Let’s go,” he called out to his friend who sat on the edge of the pool behind his house. “It is party time now, my brother. Jack is ready to roll.”
“What about…the secretary?” His friend waggled his eyebrows at Jack.
“Screw her,” Jack said, sinking into his dismay nice and deep.
Brandis shrugged and didn’t say anything else about it, thankfully. He got dressed, and they headed to a party, which blended into another and another for the entire summer until all Jack knew was how many girls he could fuck and not give two shits about, every single night.
Chapter Seven
After his senior year ended Jack spent a surreal few months filled with beer, pot, and pussy. When he wasn’t working his ass off for his father, learning everything he could about all aspects of building a house, he was studying for his contractor’s and electrician’s licenses.
And when he wasn’t doing those things, he was out deflowering virgins. He and Brandis had developed an unspoken and very successful tag-team system, approaching each party with two goals—getting drunk and getting laid, preferably by more than one girl. Jack prided himself on identifying the cherries, zeroing in on them, and relieving them of their burden, typically with enough finesse they hardly noticed it was happening.
Brandis claimed not to enjoy that, saying it was too much work for too little reward. But Jack felt as though he was on a mission. He wanted every one of the girls he had to have a positive first sexual experience and took the whole t
hing on as a personal challenge. By the time they graduated and were into that unique position of freedom—no more high school, yet not yet in college—Jack was firmly entrenched as the life of pretty much every party.
“You are a man whore, you know it?” Brandis declared from his perch atop a float in the middle of his pool. Jack shrugged and drifted off in the sun, on one of his very rare days off, dreaming as always of the lovely and giving Mindy.
When he woke, the place was crawling with girl-flesh barely covered in bikinis. Beer was flowing, and the party was on yet again. Sitting and sipping and taking it all in his brain slipped out of “missing Mindy like a bitch” mode and into locating his target for the night. He tried not to grin too widely when he spotted her, a blonde, unfamiliar to him, sitting with another girl nearly as hot, with her long, black hair tugged back in a ponytail. Then, he spotted a familiar face at the edge of the party. He frowned and got up.
“Mo, what the hell are you doing here?” His little sister sat in large swing with some strange boy way too old to be sitting that close to her. Jack grabbed her wrist and yanked her away. She yelped and smacked his arm.
“Get off me, Jack. Jeez.” Her light complexion reddened as she scampered inside. Jack watched her go, trying to square that his sister was way too mature-looking for her own good, then shook his head. His father had hired a lady to cook, clean, and serve as extended babysitter so that Maureen wouldn’t be left alone for long stretches of time now that Jack worked nearly around the clock. She was on her own a lot though, which bothered him.
Détente existed once more between Jack and his father, although Jack could hardly look at the man without remembering his words, what he said about Mindy, the woman he’d paid to fuck his own son.
A soft hand on his arm startled him. He turned, smiled, and accepted the cup the blonde girl held out.