CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bear
Eighteen years old…
There was a party.
There was a party every night.
If not at the compound, then at King’s house. The three of us, me, King, and Preppy were always down for a good time and when the sun went down we partied until it came back up. My club was always welcome, the liquor was always flowing, and the girls were more than willing.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I said to some chick I’d never seen before with long brown hair and dark, almost black, eyes. She was dressed conservatively for one of our parties, and what I mean by conservative is that she wasn’t topless or in the middle of playing a game of finger cuffs with the boys by the bonfire. She was probably a spring breaker. Her tanned skin the first giveaway. Most locals, even if they worked outside, weren’t tan unless they were born with it. This girl had a glow about her that said she’d been lying in the sun all day, the tip of her nose slightly reddened. Yep, visitor. Which was great for me because that meant she’d be doing my second favorite a bitch does without much argument or hassle.
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.
“Yes, please. Give me more,” she begged.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Preppy making a quiet move to leave out of the side door. “Prep,” I called out. He stilled. I unwrapped the girl’s legs from around me and took a step back, tucking myself back into my pants. “Why don’t you come over here and take care of this beautiful girl? She says she needs more and I’m not so sure I have much more to give her.”
At first Spring Break Chick was startled of Preppy’s presence in the room and looked at me like she was in shock, but as soon as Preppy stepped into the light, she smiled as if I’d just given her a puppy. He legs were still spread, her wetness glistening for him to see.
Slowly Preppy moved closer and closer, his gaze focused between her legs.
In my mind, I wasn’t just offering to share a girl with Preppy, I was offering him a chance at normalcy. A chance to just fuck and not be so caught up in the hows or whys of it all.
“Have at her bro,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder I left him to it and made my way back over to the party. I wasn’t ten feet away from the garage when I heard the scream. It wasn’t the kind of scream she’d made when I made her come, but the kind of scream that said “Someone just stabbed me,” I turned and ran back as fast as I could.
And sure enough…
The girl was no longer on the toolbox, but laid out on the floor on her side, crawling away from Preppy at snail speed, but where a snail left slime in his tracks, the girl left blood.
“He fucking stabbed me!” she shouted, grabbing her thigh which still had a pair of silver scissors sticking out of the top, gushing blood with her every movement. Preppy stared wide-eyed at the trail of blood and at the blood on his fingers, but didn’t make a move to help or even flee.
He just stood there with an unreadable expression on his face.
I picked the girl up and carried her out of the garage. One of the BBBs stitched up her leg and called her a cab home. I gave her a few hundred bucks to keep her mouth shut, and Preppy and I never talked about it again.
But I still felt him watching.
The next time I brought a girl into the garage and called him over, he looked worried. “I can’t,” he said, even after the girl said she was game.
“You want me to stay?” I asked in my most reassuring voice, wondering where it was in his fucked up mind that he went when sex was involved and what was causing the intensity that radiated off of him like he was a different person when he was watching. An entirely different version of Preppy. What shocked me most was that in place of his usual sarcastic and obnoxious demeanor, he was tentative. Shy.
It creeped me the fuck out.
Yet, I wanted to fix it for him somehow.
“Come here, baby,” the girl said, parting her legs. I sat up on the toolbox next to her and lifted off her shirt. I played with her nipples while Preppy suited up and pushed inside.
After a few seconds, Preppy looked up at me, his eyes dark and menacing. He looked like a fucking demon. “I want to hurt her,” he whispered. The girl, so involved in Preppy’s dick, thank fuck, she hadn’t heard him.
I shook my head, there would be no more scissor play if I had anything to do with it. “Watch, I’ll do it for you,” I said. I grabbed the girl’s throat in my hands and squeezed just enough to make it uncomfortable for her, but not enough to actually cause pain. She moaned and gagged at the same time.
“She likes that,” Preppy said, looking completely dumbfounded. He rammed into her at a furious pace while I held onto her tight. When I grabbed a handful of the girl’s red curls in my fist and pulled, ripping a scream from her throat, it sent him over the edge and he came with a groan before collapsing onto the floor.
I picked the girl off the tool box and started to pull her away from the garage. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked looking back, but I didn’t let her stop. It was better to let him recover than to leave him there alone with the girl and have to deal with the very real possibility it wouldn’t just be a thigh he carved into the next time.
“Thank you,” Preppy called out, still hunched over, face first on the concrete floor. His pants around his ankles.
It was the very first and the very last time I’d ever heard him utter those words.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same about the stabbing.