I flushed hotly. A mix of anger and something new – something strange and warm and slippery – was building inside of my chest. What was it? Why could Alex always provoke me like that, like I was nothing to him?
It’s because I am nothing to him, I realized sadly. Tears welled up in my eyes and by the time Rebecca had slammed the door and thrown Alex out of our apartment with a loud curse, I was sobbing with my face buried in my hands.
“Oh, no,” Rebecca said. She sank into a chair and put her hand on my shoulder. “Mol, I’m so sorry – look, in the future, this place is an Alex-free zone, okay?”
“It’s not that,” I said, sniffling loudly as I sucked my liquid snot back inside my nose. “It’s just…he’s right, Rebecca. I’m fat, and any guy who would want to date me is obviously some kind of freak!”
“Molly, no! You can’t think like that,” Rebecca said. “Look, you’re going to go out with Dan and have a great time, okay?”
“Okay,” I said sadly. “I’ll try.”
“I’ll kill that asshole if he ever speaks to you again in that same way,” Rebecca said. “Hell, I’m actually just kind of tempted to kill him anyway. Would you mind?”
I sighed. “Don’t bother,” I said. “Maybe he’s right – maybe I should be trying harder to lose weight. Maybe I could join Weight Watchers?”
“Molly, don’t,” Rebecca said in a warning tone. “Don’t do this – you’re better than he is! You know that!”
I sighed, frowning. “I guess,” I mumbled. “Why does it feel so bad?”
“Because he’s a jerk and an asshole,” Rebecca said. “I’ve been putting up with his shit for twenty-two years, and I’m not gonna take it anymore. He’s gonna be sorry for this!”
I nodded in agreement, but secretly, part of me was just wishing to see Alex again.
Chapter Three
Alex
I get it.
I know.
I’m difficult.
That’s just it, though – my whole life has practically been a cakewalk. As soon as I realized that my parents could never say no to me – and believe me, I got that pretty fucking quick – I stopped caring about what I said. I stopped caring about what I did, or how I acted. Knowing I could get away with anything made my life fun…for a while.
But sometime, it all changed. I don’t want to be a cynic, but I think it was somewhere around the end of high school. By the time I was eighteen, I’d been laid hundreds of times with dozens of different girls. Being a popular football player didn’t hurt my case, either. And when I started volunteering with the local fire team…well, basically I always had my dick wet. I never had to work for it. Girls came onto me like gangbusters, each one of them more eager to prove herself than the last. Getting laid was easier than snapping my fingers.
It got old.
Of course, I never told anyone that. I never told anyone how bored I was becoming with my life, how badly I wanted some excitement.
But then I met a girl who I knew would ever have me. My sister’s best friend, Molly Peters. She was fat, shy, and awkward…yet, there was something undeniably hot about her. Even from the first time I saw her, I knew she would be my greatest triumph.
But after gently teasing and negging her for years, nothing worked. She remained aloof and shy.
That’s okay, I told myself as I straightened the knot in my tie. I hated wearing a tie. The best thing about being a firefighter was never having to worry about looking good for the job: it was more about staying alive. But sometimes, women liked to see me get all cleaned up.
I was feeling hornier than ever before as I pulled on a blazer and brushed my blonde hair away from my forehead with a little gel. I had a date with Sara Johnson. She was hot with bright green eyes, red hair, and a huge ass that I wanted to spank until she couldn’t walk. She was also a single mom – and rumored around town to be more than a little slutty.
Good, I thought. Giving my wrists a dab of cologne, I grabbed my wallet and shoved it in my pants. My cock was semi-hard already, just thinking about the way Sara’s tits would bounce when she rode me. I desperately wanted to get my dick wet, and I knew sweet little Sara was a good start.
When I picked her up, I climbed out of the car and smirked. Sara was standing in front of her house, looking nervous. She was wearing a tight black dress and her tits were on full display, proudly standing up and looking perkier than ever.
“Babe, you look so hot,” I said, looking over my sunglasses and making a show of trailing my eyes over Sara’s tight little body.
To my surprise, Sara grimaced. “I hate being called babe,” she said in a stiff way.
“Oh, well, sorry,” I said. I shrugged. “Most women like that.”