by Annie Stone
I raise both hands defensively. “Hey, it’s not my fault the two of you are so cute together.”
“Who you callin’ cute?” Jean growls. “Now you’re gonna do fifty pushups, and don’t even try getting away with that ridiculous women’s version.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” I salute.
He grins and kisses his wife before following me into the training room.
Jean keeps his promise and makes me do fifty pushups with everybody else standing around me. Thanks a lot, Jean! But it’s good to have them cheering, helping me get through the ordeal, even if my arms are gradually turning to Jell-O and my muscles are trembling. Counting diligently, the others break out into cheers and whistles when I finally break down on the floor. Laughing, Jean drags me up.
“Good job, shortie. Now let’s get started.”
He makes us do endless combinations of kicks and punches, changing back and forth between theory and practice. Today, we’re doing mostly legwork, and I think it’s because he knows my arms are exhausted. Thankfully, he also doesn’t say anything when I execute my punches with half their usual force.
After class, I get on the treadmill. My original plan was just to let off some steam doing punches, but my arms won’t let me. The next best option is running from my rage. Faster and faster.
When I step off the treadmill, I feel better. I take a shower in the locker room and feel like myself again. After hugging my friends and coworkers goodbye, I leave to go back to a house that doesn’t feel like home anymore.
When I get there, Carter is just coming down the stairs.
“Hey, sweetie, want to go to the beach?” he asks, kissing me on the lips. I kiss him back, the outline of my body melting into his. He grins, firmly wrapping his arms around me.
“Mmm, I like this,” I mumble as he starts kissing my neck.
He laughs and pulls away. “Beach?”
Thinking of spending the day on the beach with Carter is bliss. So I nod, gather my things, and join him in his car. We don’t live right beside the water, but close enough I could make it there every day if I wanted to. There’s a light breeze down by the water, but mainly it’s just hot in the sun. We spread out our towels and take turns putting sunscreen on each other’s backs. Carter doesn’t like the water as much as I do, so I get in on my own.
It’s so refreshing and calming, the waves lightly lapping on the shore. It’s not prime swimming temperature, probably no more than 70 degrees at the moment, but if you don’t mind a little chill, the California water’s okay for a dip. I swim out a bit and float on my back, so blissfully happy we live so close to the ocean.
As I get out of the water, I see Carey and Hunter on the beach with their father.
Pop goes my bubble.
4
Hunter
I knew she couldn’t be far when I saw Dad sizzling in the sun. But I wasn’t ready for this. She came out of the water like a Bond girl. Long, dark hair wet, water dripping everywhere, running off her tanned skin like pearls. My eyes are glued to her. Her tits are hot when she’s dressed, but wearing hardly anything, they’re just unreal. Immediately, I feel the desire to kiss, squeeze, bite them…
She’s making me insane with this visual! I can feel my dick getting hard, so I sit down quickly. The last thing I need is that showing.
My eyes wander across her stomach—soft, but no wobble, just feminine—and her legs—which are long and sexy. I look at her bikini bottoms and wonder what her pussy looks like. Does she have a Brazilian? A landing strip? I hope it’s no more than that. I don’t want any hair in my mouth when I lick her.
I can tell she’s insecure. I would be, too, being in the company of two guys who have already rallied against her and would use every ounce of fat as ammunition. She smiles insecurely. I glance at Carey. Weirdly, looking at her doesn’t seem to faze him at all. I know he can’t hide his feelings, but all I see in his face is annoyance.
“Hey, sweetie.” Dad smiles at her. I guess he really likes her. Which makes it all the more infuriating that she’s using him for his money.
A little dog barks at her, and she turns around. Fuck! Not only does she have a sexy ass—she also has the hottest tattoo I’ve ever seen. A delicate lace pattern of roses and thorns runs across the left side of her back. I wonder what it means. Because a tattoo like that definitely means something.
She kneels down, pats the little mutt, and laughs. The sound of her voice flows straight into my cock. I won’t be able to get up today. Every mother on this fucked-up beach would call the police if I got up and took my raging hard-on for a walk.
Mackenzie sits down next to Dad, and he strokes the back of her hand. I see another tattoo on her wrist. Some writing. I can’t read it. She bends down to her bag, allowing me a look at her impressive cleavage. I want that bikini-string around her neck to burst so bad…
She reaches for her watch and puts it on, hiding the tattoo. On purpose? Or coincidence?
“Since you’re all here now,” Dad says, “I need to tell you I have to go to New York for a few days. Tomorrow.”
I look at Carey and see an evil gleam in his eyes. When I turn to her, I see Mackenzie’s eyes have widened considerably. Obviously, she’s not stupid. She knows exactly what this means for her. I think I can smell a whiff of fear. Carey senses it, too. He leans forward, and I can see that, inside, he’s already scheming.
“I’ll be about four days,” Dad says. “No parties, Hunter. You’ll do whatever Mackenzie says. Do you hear me?” He gives us both a firm look until we nod. Fuck, like we’d ever do what she tells us. No, she can take orders from me, thank you very much, and the first will be: Kneel down and open your fucking mouth!
Briefly, I wonder if Dad makes her blow him, if he likes to fuck her mouth… Then I shake my head to chase away the image. I really don’t want to imagine my old man having sex. That’s just plain disgusting.
“Are you coming home with us?” Dad asks.
Carey looks at me. He always lets me decide. I shake my head. “We’re staying here.”
“Okay,” he says. “Be back at midnight. You can use my car while I’m in New York. When I get back, we should go buy you one.”
I grin. In Miami, I had a car, too. But I left it there. “What’s the budget?”
Dad shrugs. “Just let me know what you want.”
Carey laughs. “You should totally get a Hummer.”
I pull up an amused eyebrow. “Isn’t that the one you want?”
“It’s less than a year now,” he says, his fist shooting up into the air.
I hit mine against it, and he smiles. Nutcase.
“Hunter’s not the Hummer type,” Dad says.
“Really? What type am I then?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. Let’s see how well Dad knows me.
He gives me an amused look, like he thinks it’s obvious. “You want a German car.” He squints a little. “A BMW M3 or something like that.”
I nod slowly. Not bad, old man. I’m surprised. “Is that what you’re getting me?”
“Sure.” Money has never been a problem in our family. Dad’s pretty generous. We always get what we want, as long as we play by the rules—meaning no bad grades, no big trouble. Carey and I always thought it was fair.
The bitch has put on a T-shirt, so my cock has had a chance to calm down. Time to leave.
With Carey behind me, I walk back toward where our friends are hanging. Far, far away. We made a point of choosing a spot where Dad can’t see us.
I know women are always looking at me. All girls—even those in long-term relationships, or especially those—stare at me longingly. Not just girls my age, older women, too. But I’ve never felt like becoming some bored housewife’s boy toy. And, apart from that, there are enough girls my own age who’ll happily spread their legs for me. No need for cellulite and stretch marks. Mac, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. Then again, she would be my toy…
I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not an arrog
ant bastard. I swear. I just know my own value. And you should know yours, because then you won’t fall for a guy like me. Actually, scrap that…
As soon as we reach the others, Liza throws herself at me, hugging me and pressing her tits against me. “Hey, Hunter,” she whispers seductively.
I touch her butt, and she presses against me more firmly.
“Hey, Hunt,” Fisher calls over, “who’s that hot girl over there with your Dad?”
I shrug. “His current gold digger.”
Fisher laughs. He has one like that at home, too. “Does that make her your stepmother?”
Jensen grins. “Isn’t that the title of a hard-core porn? ‘Seduced by My Stepmother’?”
Fisher hands me a beer and clangs his bottle against mine. “Step-monster, more like.”
I shrug. “Can’t blame the old man. His current sex doll has huge tits. They can just shut your brain right down.” I’m not about to tell my friends those tits are currently shutting mine down, too. Anyway. It should be illegal to be that hot. I’m sure she’s just doing it to torture me…
Liza kisses my shoulder, stroking my upper body. I have my arm wrapped around her, my hand on her ass inside her bikini bottoms. I take a swig from my bottle.
“How can you think she’s hot?” Carey asks condescendingly. “She’s nothing but a gold-digging slut.”
“Simple,” Fisher says. “He has a pair of eyes in his head.”
“Looks and personality usually don’t go together,” Damian adds. “Remember Molly?”
They all nod. Molly was Damian’s neighbor. She was fat, with horn-rimmed glasses, not very pretty, but she was the nicest girl we’d ever met. “She was awesome,” I say.
Damian nods. “She was. I’d never fuck her, but that girl had a heart of gold.”
“Yeah, and with most bitches you fuck,” I say, “you’d rather not hear them talk. They’re just plain stupid. I swear, if I hear any more boring stories about their lame best friends…”
I know, I know. I’m holding exactly that kind of girl in my arms as I shoot my mouth off. But it just so happens to be true that hot, popular girls usually have crappy personalities. While girls like Molly are great. But teenage boys are way too superficial to even notice them. We all loved Molly, but none of us would ever have considered dating her. I’m not exactly proud to be a seventeen-year-old asshole like every other boy my age. But it is what it is. Blame it on the hormones. It’s only natural I want to mate with hot girls.
“Hunter,” Liza whines.
“What?” I ask, annoyed.
“Can we go?”
“I’m talking to my buddies here.”
She strokes my chest. “I could suck your dick.”
Okay, if a girl says that to you, you usually drop everything and ram it down her throat—deep. But women know. They know men are dominated by their dicks, and they’ll shamelessly use it against you. For example, right now, I bet you a thousand dollars Liza would not open her mouth if I took her somewhere else.
“You can suck me off later,” I say, loud enough for everybody to hear. She’s the clingy type. If you let her, she’ll start planning your wedding after the first date. Better to fence her in right away.
She blushes a little, while my buddies laugh.
I keep sipping my beer. If she did anything like that to me, I’d just leave her standing there. But her? No, she just snuggles up even closer. Hot women are so stupid. No man could arrive at a different conclusion after spending three minutes with one.
“Tomorrow night at our place,” I say to the group at large, and Carey grins. “Our old man’s going away for a few days.”
“What about his babe?” Jensen asks.
I shrug. “What about her? I guess it’s our way of telling her she doesn’t really have a say around here.”
“Yeah, man!” Carey calls out excitedly.
We spend the rest of the evening at the beach. Before we go home, I fuck Liza in her car in the parking lot. My friends aren’t that far away, but I don’t care. Thanks to the double standards of our society, this makes me a stud, even though it might make her a cheap slut. Why do girls agree to have sex with us anyway? I have no idea. But I guess it boils down to the same thing I mentioned before: stupidity.
The next morning, Dad’s already on his way to New York, and his toy is nowhere to be seen, when I wake up. I go for a run, then Carey and I go shopping for our party. Our cousin works at a liquor store, so we can get whatever we want. And we don’t intend to sell anybody short at this party.
Mac’s gone all day. Probably scared. Around eight, the first of our guests arrive, and we start partying. The girls are wearing tiny bits of cloth you can’t even really call “clothing.” And as soon as they get to the pool in the backyard, they peel off another layer. The water’s full of naked tits. Meanwhile, I run around the house, beer in hand, with Liza attached to the side of my body. At some point, I have to make it clear to her that we’re not a couple. I’m just fucking her, that’s it. But judging from the way she’s sinking her claws into me, she has a different take on it. Which sucks.
“Hey, Tilman!” Fisher calls.
I turn around. There’s a guy standing next to him who looks like a football player even from afar. I walk over to them.
“This is Devon Sawyer,” Fisher introduces us. He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“Devon’s starting quarterback at school. I told him you’re a pretty decent wide receiver.”
Devon grins. “To be honest, he just gave me a sales pitch like he was your pimp.”
Fisher overplays his embarrassment and takes a swig from his bottle.
“As long as he told you I won’t sleep with just anyone, that’s fine by me,” I say, amused.
Devon laughs. “So you’re a whore that can afford to choose?”
“Definitely.”
We sit down in two chairs by the kitchen table and start chatting. He tells me about the problems with his team, and that, quite possibly, I could be the solution. Even though Fisher has totally understated my skills. I’m not just “pretty decent”—I’m a really awesome wide receiver. Again—I’m not arrogant. I just know my value.
“So are you coming to Westmore?” he asks.
I nod. “Probably. Makes sense. It’s closest. And we already know a few people there.”
“You’d be a great addition to our team if you’re as good as Fisher says.”
“I’m better,” I say seriously.
He nods slowly. “We’ll see. It’ll definitely be interesting.” He takes a drink of his beer. “Not that it’s any of my business, but what are you doing with Liza Donelli?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“Does she know that?” He nods in her direction, and I look. She’s screaming at another girl who has obviously had the audacity to look at me. Annoyed, I rub my neck. “She’s clingy, man,” he warns knowingly. “She’s hot, but she doesn’t get the idea of casual sex.”
“Are you talking from experience?” I ask.
He smirks. “No. That kind of thing isn’t for me. I’ve already found my girl.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Just one?”
He grins. “Just one. Mine.”
“And none of the others ever intrigue you?”
“Nope. When I saw her the first day of high school, I just fell for her head over heels. She’s the one.”
He sounds totally cool about it. Not like he’s a total eccentric among all these chronically horny teenagers who can’t wait to dunk their dicks in a new pussy.
“Isn’t it boring?” I ask honestly.
He shrugs. “Not for me.”
A pretty girl comes up behind him and puts her arms around him. He grins. “Speak of the devil.”
Playfully, she slaps his chest. “Don’t call me the devil.”
“What should I call you then?” he asks, stroking her arms.
“Angel,” she whispers, biting his earlobe.
He laughs. “Ava, t
his is Hunter Tilman. He and his brother just moved here.”
She lets go of him, steps in front of me, and holds out her hand. Standing, I grab it. I admit, I’m checking her out. She’s pretty. More like the girl-next-door type than sex bomb, but she has intelligent eyes and a warm smile. She’s definitely not a one-nighter.
“Hi, Hunter,” she says warmly.
Before I can say anything, Liza comes over and loops an arm around me. I give her an annoyed look. “Hunter,” she purrs.
“What?”
“You’re not giving me any attention,” she whines, “and now you’re talking to this boring bitch.”
Devon’s already standing to tell her off as I shake her arms off me. “Fuck off,” I tell her. “Don’t treat my friends like that.”
She gives me a submissive look that makes me even angrier. Devon sits back down and pulls Ava onto his lap.
“Sorry, Hunter,” Liza coos, stroking my arm. “Really.”
“I said fuck off. You and I, we’re just fuck buddies, that’s all.”
“But…” I see tears in her eyes, but I don’t care. Devon is cool, which means Ava is cool, too, so I won’t have a bitch like Liza insulting her.
I get in her face, my next words intended only for her. “I never wanted anything else from you. I’m not your boyfriend. You have no claim to me. It was just sex. And it wasn’t even that good.”
Did I say I never hurt women on purpose? Fuck. Okay, I’m an asshole, I’m not going to deny it, but it was time for her to stop dreaming. Especially since her dream is so utterly removed from what reality has in store for her.
“Hunter, please…” I can’t stand it when women start begging.
“Get out of here.”
“Please—”
“No. Fuck off!”
Suddenly, the gold digger is in the room. She looks around, an incredulous expression on her face.
Shit. Like we don’t have enough trouble already…
“What do you want?” I ask her, annoyed.