14 MONTHS AGO:
Animals.
That's what we are. No sooner had we gotten in the car after leaving the Homecoming Dance--which, in that cramped piece of shit gymnaiusm was more like a Puritan sauna--than did Sarah undo my seatbelt, unzip my khakis and tease open the flap of my boxers and start playing with Mikey.
The entire ten miles home, she gave him a mighty suck. It was only when we pulled into my driveway that she sat up, wiped her lips dry prententiously. We both got out of the car at the same time, and I raced her inside.
I had her down to those sexy black undies by the time we got to the stairwell. I was shirtless; my cock still hanging from my khakis and almost flapping in the midnight breeze.
I finagled the khakis off and started dry humping her. Trying furiously to get her naked. Completely. She eases me off her for a second, rolls her top down and her skirt up and wiggles the silkies off. Bra too.
Chicken's done. Her breats stare at me longingly. Suck us, taste us, fuck us. Oh yes.
And her pussy sits there too, nestled between basketball player's legs. Smiling at me.
"Fuck me, Tyler."
I slide my boxers off and slam her hard. She grunts in pain or glee at the invasion. From there on out, for the next hour or two, its unadulterated, unprotected, sweaty, primal sex.
Like animals.
We move to the kitchen, and I bend her over the oak table and start pounding again. Every pump, every in-out...she screams. Moans. Asks for more. I pull out and wipe teh sweat off my forehead. Look down momentarily; Mikey glistens and shines and aches. Filled with bloods and almost suffering a leak of precum.
I need her to climax. I want her to scream her fucking lungs out.
I walk over to the kitchen counter and pull out the top drawer. The silverware drawer. Grab a delightful looking steak knife--a nice sharp one--and make a slight cut across the hairy side of my forearm. I wince and inhale sharply at the sensation of steel going through skin.
"Ah."
And then I roll with it. A streak of red follows a centimeter behind the blade.
"This'll do."
"Tyler?" she calls to me weakly. I turn back and she's rubbing her pussy slowly and massaging one tit. I flip the knife around in my hand and give it to her, handle first.
"What's this?" she asks and clears some messy hair from her face.
I plug back in--she flinches again--and start speeding up the pace.
"I want you," I say and run y hands up her sides. "When I say, to use that."
"Use that, I--ooh--why?"
"It'll help." I smile and pump faster and throw one of her leg over my shoulder. I lean over and nibble her ear. "You want to help me, don't you?" And I give her a thirty-second Frencher. A dirty kiss. A passionate kiss. I release it and breathe heavy.
And I start fucking her madly again.
In between her yelps, she pants and gets out sentence fragments.
"I--oh---OHHHH--Now Tyler now can I please do this now please?"
"No," I say calmly and rub her tits. "Not yet."
"Oooooohhh please honey, please fuck me fuck me fuck--ahhh ohhhh OHHHHH FUCK!"
I scowl and go faster. "What's that?"
"OHHH GIVE IT TO ME!" she slaps my chest, leaving a distinctive mark. "Fuck me!"
"Ah yeah, Sarah. Say it."
"Oooh say what baby?"
"Say it. Use it. NOW! DO IT!"
Mikey starts to tingle. Welcome to phase two.
The feeling of the blade's tip carving along my pec makes it hotter. I knock the knife out of her hand and smear the hot blood around. Like an animal.
And them phase two happens. Like some damn geyser, Mikey erupts inside Sarah. She screams as I arch back ymself and press Mikey against the insides of her cunt. In my mind's eye, I see my juices sprayed inside her. Messy. Hot. Fucking beautiful.
Then, I fall over tyop of her. Let two become one. Let the sweat intermix, match my breathig to hers, and lick her clean.
She runs a hand around the back of my head and kisses my temple.
"I love you Tyler."
"I know."
NOW:
So this the boys locker-room. A littel darker than I remember, but then...last time I was in here, I spent most of the time with my mind and a few other thigns wrapped around a few things of Tyler's.
Now? I'm leaning against a cinderblock wall sweating my balls off in this humidity waiting for this piece of shit in front of me to get done showering or jerking off or whatever else he's doing with his back turned to me.
Jake. Primary suspect in the case of Who's the Fucker Who Raped My Boyfriend.
He's remarkably unremarkable. Even the guys at the nuthouse up the street have something notable about them. Jake? He's just 240 pounds of muscle. Dumb, stupid, unenlightened linebacker with a libido that apparently doesn't stop when a cock shows up on his rader.
His ass if flabby, surprisingly so for a footballer. His legs are typical: dark and hariy and slightly bowed. Something below outlandish hotness. His shoulders are broad and slightly hotter, and his arms have gotten the msot attention--either from the free weight rom or all the sex he apparently has.
Oh yes, te football types are horndogs. Comes with the territory. And he may be in the shwoer, but I can still smell it on him. He reeks of lies and cheap sex and cheap reality. He's the living incarnation of vapid.
He turns off the shower, turns around and stops for only a second before registering why there's a fully clothed guy standing in front of him.
"Queerbate," he says and smiles.
"Shithead," I say back, without missing a beat. "How hangs it?"
"You're the fag, why don't you tell me?" He sneers and pushes his way past me, slapping my ass as he goes. I follow him to his locker, just around the corner. He towels dry and sits down on the bench, pulling on boxers with a cartoony slot hat says "spare change" on the fly.
Moron.
"What do you want anyway, Johnny? I did what you asked."
"And now I'm asking you to do something else." I fish a fifty out of my pocket and hold it within his eyesight. When I move it around, his eyes follow it in perfect sychrony.
"Aight," he says and scratches his nascent goatee.
"Sarah."
"Slutbag?" he asks. I nod slowly.
"I'm tired of her getting in the way of shit, Jake. This is for you to scare her away."
"What are you talking about?" He stands and scratches his crotch.
"Fifty bucks. No strings. Use a funny hat, jumpm out from behind a bush. I don't care. Just tell her to stay away."
He eyes the mony just once before taking it.
"Fine," he says, pocketing it. "You got a deal."
"Fine."
"Though I have to ask. Don't you think this is a little...childish?"
A meter or two away I hear the locker-room door open. I ignore it, focusing on Jake.
"Not even for a second, Jake. Can you do this for me?"
"Sure," he says speculatively and steps closer. "But I wonder if you c'n do somethin for me."
"Get a life, sweetheart. I may suck dick, but you're not Tyler."
He grabs my crotch with one hand and kisses me. Short and quick. He releases, shrugs, and continues to get dressed.
"What the hell was that?"
"Just wanted to see what the fuss was about," he says distantly. "By the way..."
"What?"
"THis makes our little bet up to, what, a hundred now?"
"Sure," I say. "This is the least I could do, after your previous services.
"Yeah yeah," he says irritably, pulling on a wifebeater. "Listen, we got off scott-fuckin-free for that, you know."
"I know," I say. "I think you can thank me for that. I talked to Tyler and got him to lift the charges. Had to phone about a hundred angry mothers concerned about their kids too, you know."
"Not my problem, Johnny." He stands and slings his gym bag over one shoulder, sklaps my face gently once. "I had pretend to rape one of your little idols just so you could go Michael Jackson on him. Work's all on your end, queerbate, I'm just the muscles. But for now, consider me on retainer."
"Sure," I say and watch him leave.
Watch him push past a very motionless, very quiet Tyler leaning against a row of lockers.
"Um...Hi."
Silence. He starts pacing. After five minutes, he speaks.
"I was coming in here to change and hit the weights," he says quietly. "And then I see what seems to be a conspiracy to get me to date you?"
"Now, darling," I say and throw my hands up defensively. "Let's not get hasty here."
"You paid off that piece of shit to rape me, so you could take advantage of me and use me? Is that what this is?"
"Tyler--"
"ANSWER ME!"
After a moment: "Yes. Yes, that's...that's exactly what this is."
He scowls for a second, and only for a second.
And he's out the door before I can stop him. Or even explain myself.
"Damn."