"Do you feel how wet I am?" She asked, grinding her thighs together, pulling on my wrist to put pressure on her sensitive regions.
"Yeah." I nodded, my mouth drying a little.
"That's from thinking about you and all the things I'm gonna do to you tonight." She told me.
"Cool." I gasped.
"Why don't you take these pantyhose off of me?" She asked, kicking off her shoes. "I could use a little air."
I kneeled before her and pulled off her pantyhose, as requested, and, while she stood there before me, she threw the hem of her dress over my head. Her bare legs and crotch were directly before my face, the silky material of her dress billowing over my back. The smell under there was rich with musk; her pussy lips were oozing moisture. She widened her stance a little, spreading her legs and bringing her pussy near my mouth. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled it forward, into her wetness.
I ate her to orgasm as she stood there, though her knees became quite wobbly as she came and she had to hold onto my shoulders for support. She then pushed me to my back on the floor and pulled my shoes from my feet and my pants and underwear from my body. She spread her dress around my hips and lowered herself onto my straining, very erect cock. Slowly she sank down upon me, engulfing me in her wet snatch and then pumping her hips up and down.
I must say that she gave me one of the best fucks I've ever had, before or after recycling. I wondered why her husband had divorced her. He couldn't have found someone better in bed. Better looking maybe, but not better in the sack.
I staggered home about ten-thirty that night and fell immediately into bed. My crotch was throbbing with the beat of my heart and my dick had a raw, used feeling to it. I had a smile on my face as I fell into sleep, thanking God for Mr. Li and for the fact that I hadn't been in a jovial mood that night and wished I was an Oscar Meyer wiener or something. Never in my life had I had so much sex in so short a period of time. And with three different girls too! My last thought was what tomorrow would bring.
It didn't bring much. My body was aching and sore. Since it was Sunday, the Lord's day after all, I spent the entire twenty-four hour period without leaving the house. It was a day of rest. There was school tomorrow.
The poor weather returned for Monday's walk to school. The temperature was in the thirties, the sky was cloudy and spat intermittent flurries of snow down upon Mike and I as we walked to school. Mike was telling me what a great kegger it had been on Friday and that I should have gone to the one on Saturday night as well.
"I'm tellin' you man, there was bitches everywhere." He proclaimed.
"Yeah?" I replied, brushing a snowflake out of my eye and pulling my hood tighter against the cutting wind.
"Fuck yeah." He said. "I met this bitch from Spokane High and we got all fucked up together. After a while we went off to the trees and she gave me a fuckin' blow job."
"A blow job huh?" I asked, as if interested, wondering if Mike had ever really been laid at all.
"Yeah," He leered. "She could suck start a Harley, I'm tellin' you. You shoulda come. I bet you coulda got laid too."
"I'm waiting for Miss Right." I told him.
He looked at me strangely for a moment and then, finally figuring it was a joke, started laughing.
I didn't laugh back and we walked on in silence. Mike bothered me. I knew the path that he was on but every attempt I made to even talk about steering him off of it had failed. I wanted to help him, to keep him from ending up a thirty-three year old loser living with his parents and never having held a job for more than a year in his life. Didn't he want to marry, have children, raise a family? Didn't he want what everyone else in the world did? Surely the life he would end up with was not what he desired, was it? But I had no idea how to even begin to steer him. His facade was of the tough, independent person, streetwise, never needing advice or help from anyone. How could you reach such a person? Especially when they'd spent their entire life as the superior member of the friendship. I was clueless and hoping that some answer would come to me. But the answer, for the moment, eluded me.
"Well look who's back." Mike said as we approached the school.
I looked where he was indicating and saw Richie Fairview standing with his cronies in their accustomed spot near the bike racks. The same spot where I'd engineered his downfall and his trip to the hospital. Even from this distance I could see he had a bandage on his nose. Though he had a heavy coat on I was reasonably sure that his chest was taped up beneath it. I'd felt a definite crunch when I'd kicked him the other day.
"Well well." I smiled, already turning that way.
"You gonna fuck him up again?" Mike asked, a little fear in his voice, but not as much as before.
"Only if he wants to go the hard way." I said, heading directly for him.
You have to understand that Richie was more than just Richie to me. He was the epitome of bullies, the sum of all large, stupid aggressors that had picked on me since grammar school. He encompassed bullies that would pick on me after Richie would eventually graduate or drop out or whatever. As a shy, easily malleable kid in school I'd been easy fodder for them throughout my school years. And they had left an impression that was deeper than I'd realized until I'd seen Richie on my first day back. Richie represented all bullies that had ever said an unkind word or had laid an unjust hand upon me. By besting him at his own game, I was besting demons that had helped shape my previous life. I intended to make him suffer, to bring him down as far as I could, to expose the lie that all bullies represented; that they were gods, unchallengable.
His friends tittered nervously as I approached, whispering some things to him, him nervously whispering some things back. The very fact that he was standing at the head of them despite his earlier defeat told me a lot. He'd undoubtedly told them that he was going to repay me for the sneak attack on him the first time. They were anxiously awaiting his revenge. I was pretty sure there would be no revenge. The Richies of the world don't generally think things through very carefully.
"Hey Dickwad!" I yelled directly at him when I was close enough. "How was the hospital?"
"Fuck you motherfucker!" He yelled, taking a few steps closer; again telling me volumes about his intentions. Had he been meaning to fight me, he would have waded right in. But he didn't. He took a few steps towards me, obviously hoping I'd cower and back down. When I didn't (and why he thought I would, after our last encounter is a mystery to me), he slowed down, his mind re-evaluating what his strategy was. In that moment I knew I'd won the confrontation.
"That's some pretty insulting shit you're talking." I told him conversationally, walking closer. "I suppose you think that your friends here are impressed by it." I shook my head sadly. "They're not. Talk is cheap faggot, action is where it's at. If you wanna impress your friends and restore your reputation as a badass you're simply gonna have to kick my ass. Isn't that what you told them you were gonna do?"
"I AM gonna kick your fuckin' ass!" He roared, taking a tentative step forward.
I laughed. "Are you now?" I asked. "Well go ahead and do it." I made a 'come-on' gesture with my fingers. "Kick my ass. Let's see you do it."
He stood still, his face fuming, infuriated with shame and anger. He wanted to, that was obvious, but he also remembered what had happened last time.
"I'm waiting." I said impatiently. "When are you gonna kick my ass? It's sitting here right in front of you. Start kicking."