And after all, I’ve never missed a game. No way I’ll change my habits because of this asshole.
I never buy a ticket, I settle for a hideout under the bleachers with my camera and my lens. I like taking pictures of the players in action, and especially of Josh.
It’s stupid, but I’m apprehensive. I thought deflowering him wouldn’t change anything and I was wrong. Tonight it’s different, everything is different. In those moments Marcy acts like a groupie in heat and I know Josh really appreciates those moments when she’s completely hysterical and crazy about him. And I don’t want to know if I’ll be able to put up with it. Yet a part of me really wants to see him. He’s irresistible when he’s focused on his game like this and two hundred percent into what he’s doing.
And I would like to know if he’ll act any differently around his klutz of a girlfriend after what we’ve done. And like an idiot, I’m here, two hours before the start so I can slip into my hideout without getting caught. I wait patiently, shooting known faces that are slowly gathering on the bleachers. Steve brought the Crawford twins, Will the nerd came with his parents, David the scum is trying to flirt a little, even the stuck up is here and she seems to be looking for me. For once, I should get some peace.
Tonight it’s Winsted against Torrington and the game is tied. Josh ends up several times on the floor and each time I shudder for him. I’m really nuts, he’s not my man for what I know. He could very well end up at the hospital, what do I care?
I observe Marcy at the other end, she’s biting her nails praying for him and I’m sure she’s really praying. She and her family are super practicing Catholics who think that people like me will end up in Hell, just because we miss Sunday’s Mass.
There are only a few minutes left and Torrington leads by two little points. Suddenly, the crowd jumps up, screaming like a single man and I can’t see anything anymore. The last seconds go by and inaudible exclamations come from all around. I try to see what is going on, to spot Josh between the hysterically shuffling feet, but nothing. And then, they all start running and jumping to the field and the path is clear again. I see Josh, who is lifted in triumph with the impressive mass that Paul Howard is. They are put back to the ground and Marcy falls to his neck. He lifts her up and kisses her passionately and my heart stops beating from the pain, breaking into thousands pieces. I hold back a scream that threatens to blast out to relieve the pressure. I try to get rid of an unbearable thought. What if she agreed to do it with him tonight? I’d become meaningless. I look away.
The losers are being lectured by their coach. They have their heads hanging low and wait for it to pass. Deep down, I’m more in their state of mind, but I can’t keep my eyes from going back to Josh and Marcy, still all over each other. I must really like to be hurting. What a klutz!
At last, people start leaving the field slowly, and I come out of my hideout. I thought I was the last one around but I run into the old Donnell leaning against a brand new black Toyota. He looks happy to see me as always. I think he’s the only guy who appreciates accidentally running into me.
“Oh, hello Sandre! I haven’t seen you at the game.” “I was late.” I grumble without slowing down.
“Will has lost his wallet on the bleachers, have you seen it?”
“Um, no.” I mumble already walking away.
What do I care about his offspring’s fucking wallet? I’m sure he’s an old perv who digs young rebellious girls. Super icky!
On my way back, I can’t help but think about Marcy and Josh. They are probably all at Boby’s to celebrate. I promised myself not to set a foot over there and there is no way I don’t keep that promise. Yet, once in bed, no way to find sleep. I imagine Marcy doing things I’ve never done to him yet. I picture him moaning louder than all the times we fucked. And I see him giving me his kinky teasing look, his face half hidden in his loved one’s breast.
I need to know!
16 — Josh
Marcy is so sexy tonight! And she’s all over me, prouder than ever. I could almost get the feeling she wants to take the plunge. I know I’m going to fail, but I terribly want to take the chance once more. I’ve been completely spaced out these past few days. I was really out of control! How could I get this addicted to Sandre?
She can’t have this effect on me. I’m in trance every time Marcy brushes against me to add some more coke into my whiskey, revealing her gorgeous cleavage at the same time. I can’t take it anymore. Her incredibly soft hair caresses my neck and her vanilla perfume calls out to me irresistibly.
And she doesn’t even frown at all the glasses my teammates are bringing to me. Tonight I really delivered on the field and I’m sure that the rest of the festivities will be even better. When Marcy asks me to go back home at around ten, with a salacious little smile, I’m sure that it’s coming, finally, we’re on the same page.
I’m a little tipsy, but nothing to be worried about compared to last week. She shouldn’t notice. She snuggles to me and puts her hands under my team jacket. I wait for the big Boby and the other potentially curious minds to be out of sight to take her by her thin waist and passionately stick my lips to hers for some tongue action.
I want to show her how crazy I am about her. I grab her butt, perfectly fitted in her slim jeans that really suit her and press her against my crotch so she can feel how much I want her. She starts prancing about with excitement and I groan into her mouth as I imagine what’s going to happen next. And as I thought we were in perfect harmony, she violently pushes me away and starts screaming furiously:
“What’s wrong with you? I thought… this week…well, you’ve been so gentle, so considerate, not at all…, well, I thought you understood.”
The emotions crossing her beautiful face instantly bring my parts to reality.
“Understood what?” I mumble trying to come back to my senses.
I was not dreaming tonight. She was all over me like a cat in heat. Marcy is going to drive me crazy.
“Josh, you must be kidding me.” She says outraged.
I stand here like an idiot, waiting for her to explain. Alcohol and my frustrated crotch prevent me from thinking. I must have missed something!
“God doesn’t approve us doing this without his consent and you know it.”
And here it comes, we will talk about the good Lord again. Well you know what? The Almighty is really starting to get on my nerves!
“What makes you think he hasn’t given it to us yet?” I take a chance, knowing very well I’m going to shock her.
I await a lecture, an endless litany that will get me sober faster than any miracle solution, but nothing comes. She settles for taking a deep loud breath before simply adding:
“You’re not in your right mind. Must be the euphoria of the game that’s disturbing you… You know what? Let’s forget what just happened. Lucy will take me home.”
And that’s all, she furtively kisses me on the cheek, her hand brushes against my arm and she disappears into Boby’s house, leaving me here like trash.
When she reappears with Lucy I still haven’t moved. I try to understand, but my brain refuses to take in the conversation we just had. She walks past me as if I didn’t exist anymore and I watch her walk away more beautiful than ever. How can a girl as attractive as that reject sex this way?
My God, I’ll really have to cool down my hormones before I see her again!
I think about Sandre, naked in her bed. I imagine her waiting for me, more desirable than ever. I’ve asked her to come, yet she’s not here. I still don’t know what got into me. God, I’m so frustrated! I consider climbing the pergola behind her house to satisfy my urges, when a hand grabs me and pushes me.
“Come on winner, you still have some drinks waiting for you!”
It’s Paul who almost carries me to the house. Other arms mix with his and exclamations of joy wrap me in a suffocating euphoria. I have trouble catching my breath; they are depriving me of oxygen, not letting me move, carrying me with t
hem in a frightening mass movement. Usually I like the after game enthusiasm, but today I’m having a hard time with it.
They want me dead! I’m almost starting to panic when Steve gets me out of this ambush by handing me his glass.
“So buddy? Your balls have been left behind again?” What an asshole! Bastard! I’m in agony and he gives me the final blow and he calls himself a friend. I have a terrible desire to punch him in the face.
“You fucking piece of smelly shit!” I yell as I throw myself at him.
My knuckles violently crash on his flesh. I think I knocked him out, but when I open my eyes again, he’s still standing there, looking at me like an idiot. Boby stepped in between us, tightly holding my hand in his imposing fingers. I try to free myself, yet I know I have no chance to succeed.
“Good God, let me take care of him! That asshole deserves it and you know it!”
No matter how I plead and insult him, he doesn’t let go off me. Slowly, as I struggle, he takes me away from Steve.
No matter how hard I try, he effortlessly locks me up in his father’s office. Boby’s always impressively calm. One would imagine a guy like him easily trading punches, yet he shows a foolproof patience.
“Steve’s humor has always been borderline, but he’s your friend, you have no right to beat him up just because your life is fucked up.”
He talks quietly as if he was afraid of waking a sleeping child. And with an incredible slowness, he gets behind his father’s desk, takes out a pack of beer hidden I don’t know where and sits on the imposing chair while opening a can. I quietly observe him. It looks like he’s waiting for me to open up to him.
Seriously, what does he want me to tell him?
“Josh…everybody knows you’re crazy about Marcy, you don’t have to prove it, but she and you, you aren’t on the same page. You should take a break before making a mistake you will regret for the rest of your life.”
I stare at him blown away. I’m an open book! I should be revolted, yet I’m relieved, because even though they know everything about me, they still don’t know that the mistake, I’ve already made it.
“I couldn’t stand a stuck up asshole touching her.” I end up saying.
Good God! Yes, It would drive me crazy. I could send to the hospital all the idiots that would dare to talk to her.
“So what are you gonna do?” Boby asks me calmly. “Finish school, go through college orgies with your balls on fire as Steve would say. And plead Marcy on the knees to suck you dick when you really won’t be able to stand it anymore?”
I can’t help but smile when I realize that Sandre could have told me the exact same thing.
“I was talking about your marriage proposal.” He adds, as I smile like an idiot.
The word marriage instantly brings me back to reality, making me gag. I hold the nausea back by gobbling up Steve’s drink which is still in my hand.
I’m in trouble!
I know that Boby, unlike Steve, doesn’t believe I did it with the fat Sarah. I’d like to tell him that I took the plunge, that it was awesome and that I’m completely addicted! To sex, not Sandre! Boby is a good guy, I know he would understand, but I also know that he will advise me to stop and I really don’t want to, so I settle for asking:
“You have already done it…could you do without it for the girl of your dreams?”
“I wish I could say yes, but I’d be lying…I’ve slept with meaningless girls just for the pleasure of doing it.”
It might seem crazy, but I’m relieved. I’m not an asshole like Steve, I’m just like all guys. I walk to the desk to take a beer and Boby adds, probably thinking I need to be reassured even though He’s already done it:
“Girls aren’t like us, they know nothing about the effect it has on us and if they knew, I’m sure Marcy wouldn’t act this way with you.”
Oh my God, yes! If only Marcy could know. I imagine her giving me blowjobs to help me wait for the day she will be ready at last. My parts they already are ready. She’s between my legs, her long golden hair caressing my thighs as she goes back and forth in a perfect rhythm. It’s so good! I could get off in my pants just thinking about it. I must really have a stupid expression on because Boby thinks appropriate to add: “You know, when you’ll have done it, I’m sure you won’t see Marcy the same way anymore.”
He looks so sure about this, even though I’m not really sure I understand what he means by that. I may have done it again, again and again… Marcy is still the only one for me, the ideal one, beautiful and elegant, just like she should be. And Sandre…it’s different. I don’t care about her, but I still want her and I don’t want to know what she really means to me. When I’m with her, I just switch off, because now, I can’t do without it anymore.
17 — Sandre
I’ve walked for more than an hour before getting to Boby’s house. I thought his house much closer and in the dark, the shortcuts I thought I was familiar with gave me the cold sweat. Several times I got the feeling I was lost.
What an idea to take this walk in the middle of the night. I’m really nuts! There’s nothing I can do if Marcy decides to run wild tonight. And honestly, I would rather not witness it. So what the hell am I doing here? I try to convince myself that I needed to get some fresh air, that there is nothing better than a night walk for it, but truth is I really want to see him. I’m stupid, that’s all!
Boby’s house finally appears. It’s impressive, entirely covered with raw wood and surrounded by all kinds of trees. Crap it’s almost scary plunged into darkness. I must have missed the party. Yet, the front steps are still lit and a car is still parked in front of the entrance. A red mustang like Josh’s. And the owner is stumbling at its door, not able to put his key in. Josh is a mess!
He hasn’t seen me coming and I take advantage of it to look at him. As always, his jeans are falling to his hips in a terribly sexy way and his team jacket accentuates his broad shoulders. That idiot is way too hot!
“Need help?” I ask, trying to hold back a laugh.
How did he manage to get this bad? And I thought that Marcy was tightening his belt. I really had this wrong and she isn’t even here to limit the damage.
With a surreal slowness he turns to me and is startled when he sees me. He looks distressed and his hair is in a mess like after a good fuck. My heart panics just thinking about it. He’s done it!
A weird salacious smile comes to light up his beautiful face, before he says with a drawling voice:
“You’re late, the party’s been over for a long time.”
“I had things to do.” I elude.
I can’t possibly tell him that I saw the game, that I turned over in my bed a hundred times thinking about him and that I got lost three times on my way here. He would think that I’m at his mercy. Anything but that!
He stares at me like an idiot, rocking back and forth. His too big jeans and his crooked t-shirt reveal the bottom of his stomach. How can he still look this sexy when he’s completely drunk?
I hesitate a moment before getting closer. I don’t want to be caught here. I take another look in direction of the house. There doesn’t seem to be anyone left. Where are all his friends? Why isn’t anyone here to prevent him from ending up in the ditch?
“What are you doing here alone like an idiot in such a mess?” I ask him and take away his keys.
“No one drives my car.” He says outraged, trying to take dully back what’s his.
I ignore his protests and grab him by the waist by putting my arm under his shoulder. He’s heavier than I thought and I stumble as he lets himself fall against me. “Hold on, you’ll try out the passenger seat.”
As I stagger with him to the other side of the car, he pushes me against the door and plunges his still agile hand under my father’s trucker sweater running his lips over my neck. He smells of hop and whiskey. He must really have loaded up!
“You don’t know how frustrated I am.” He growls and touches my jaw.
A drunk making indecent propositions has nothing flattering, but when it’s Josh Anderson, it changes everything. I want him so bad that I could give in to him, even in this state.
“Yet your dick must be completely out of order considering what you gave it.” I mock him, caressing his parts too soft to be able to do anything.
He moans and retains my hand on his crotch. The asshole is asking for more.
“You kidding, I haven’t lost my hard-on since Marcy stood me up here with my erection.”
I shudder at the mention of her name and a wave of contradictory feelings fills me up. He’s tried it again…and she sent him packing. Unease gets between us. Is this idiot aware off the bullshit that comes out of his mouth?
I take advantage of this moment of calm to open the door and push him in. His arms are still around my waist and he holds me tighter to bring me with him in his fall. He suddenly seems to have regained some strength, as he grabs my ass to pull me against him and kisses me savagely.
The passion he puts in his gestures awakens all my senses and I ride him and kiss him back the same way. His tongue wraps around mine as I twist my fingers in his messy hair. My desire lights up and I press myself against him to feel him better. He slips his burning hand under my big sweater and when I realize he’s about to take it off I brutally pull away trying to come to my senses.
“My mother has always told me not to take advantage of a man in a state of weakness.” I whisper and wiggle to free myself and get to the driver’s seat.
“Yet you have already done it.” He says with a large kinky smile.
“But you were more than consenting.” I reply and step on the gas to make the engine roar returning him his provocative smile.
Sinder 1: Experimentation Page 10