And fuck this raging hard on.
As Coach Granger used to joke when I got too tired to effectively catch passes, “Your mind is willing, but your body is weak.”
My mind knows we shouldn’t trust this girl. Shouldn’t have let her in, even for a week. She’s obviously too good to be true. But my body…
I grab a tissue from the box I keep under my bed and fist my cock. I have to take a shower in Mitch’s room this morning, and he’s not ever going to let me live it down if I walk in there with a beam.
I could claim it was just regular morning wood. But he’d know I was lying. We’d both know I was lying.
My cock is glistening with so much pre-cum, I don’t even need lotion. I jerk myself up and down. Fast and impatient. But nothing happens.
Not until I slow down, close my eyes, and let myself imagine…
Goldie with her plump ass in the air. My cock in her balls deep. She’s biting her lip because it hurts so good….
I explode without warning. So big, I know even before I open my eyes that one tissue won’t be enough to clean it up. Masturbating once won’t be enough either. The last few days have taught me I’ll be hard as a rod again at bedtime. And it doesn’t matter how irritated I get when Mitch wakes her up in the middle of the night. When I hear them, I’ll have to get myself off then, too.
A desperate urge comes over me. I want to kick Nico’s door open, grab her by the hair, and…
An image of Charlotte crying on my doorstep interrupts that fantasy.
“I told them it was you or me, and they chose you! Are you happy now? We’re breaking up because of you. You ruined everything!”
You ruined everything! Same thing my mom said to me after I killed my father in the middle of him beating her.
As it turns out, you can return kids. They took me away after that night. Didn’t charge me on account of me only being thirteen. But who wants a foster kid with a sealed file? That’s a red flag for sure.
Coach Granger was the only one. He pulled me out of the boys’ home when I was fourteen, and he called me Jebby like I was a little kid. Nobody had ever done that before.
Coach Granger gave me my brothers, and he taught me to play ball and work with a team. He also taught me how to be a man. To take responsibility for myself and not do anything else that would land me in jail after I got old enough to be tried as an adult.
But his wife was long dead by the time I came around. So he couldn’t teach me how to talk to women. And I’ve always been bad with them.
I can’t pretend I care about their feelings like Nico does, or act slick and smooth like Mitch. Hell, most of the time, I don’t want the woman we share to like me.
There’s something I can’t stand about knowing they’re only there for the money. That’s why I could never get on board with Charlotte.
She wasn’t an escort, and we weren’t paying her to be with us. But she demanded a lot. We paid her rent. Bought her jewelry and clothes. At least once a week, Mitch took her out on some expensive date. Places without prices on the menu where waiters snuck photos of you together and sold it online.
She probably didn’t mind the back-to-back orgasms. But mostly, I could tell she was in it for the lifestyle we provided. And as hopeful as Mitch and Nico were about all living happily ever after in these woods, I think that would have been a deal breaker too. Charlotte didn’t decide she couldn’t tolerate me anymore until we got serious about moving up here.
Goldie acts like she loves it here. While we’re working on the top floor of the house, she’s been filling pots and troughs up with soil and seeds for eggplant, lettuce, peppers, broccoli, cauliflower—hell just about every kind of salad you could name. Plus, she cleans up downstairs like she’s trying to do her part. Nico keeps “accidentally” giving her my tees, and I can’t say I hate coming downstairs to her doing domestic shit while looking sexy as hell.
But she’s only here for the money, too. Doesn’t matter how sad she looks when I don’t say anything back after she greets me in that cheery way of hers. Or how much Nico and Mitch have been laughing with her over the last few days. Or how my heart catches every time I glimpse her in the pot fields, looking for unfrozen soil in Nico’s coat and those crazy yellow straw wedges.