Page 50 of Undefeated

“I could cum just watching you put on your shirt. You were right. I know it’s been forever and a day, but you do everything perfectly, don’t you?” she sighed as she grabbed her panties.

I smiled and pulled my shirt over my head.

“Fucker,” she said as she pulled her panties over her feet.

As I reached for my hoodie, she slid her legs over the couch and attempted to stand.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she complained as she tried to stand.

“I carried you in, I’ll carry you out,” I said as I zipped up my hoodie.

I reached down, picked her up, and hoisted her tight to my chest, cradling her in my arms. Her body parallel to the floor, she reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck. She turned her head and looked up into my eyes.

“Shane, I don’t know how you’ll know when the time has come. You know, when I’m no longer vulnerable. But when you decide it’s time, as you say - know this. I like it rough. Think about that. And you better pray to God that you’re ready,” she said.

Kace might only weigh one hundred pounds and barely be five feet tall, but when the time comes…

Shane Dekkar is going to have his hands full.

I know that.

SHANE. I have no complaints about my life. Life, as they say, is what we make it. I make mine a series of lessons. I learn something every day - and what I learn allows me to live the next day without the same worries, problems, or concerns I have harbored in the past.

We are told to learn from our mistakes, and this will prevent us from repeating them. I live my life paying attention to all of what is around me. I pay close attention to the mistakes that others make and learn from them. It prevents me from having to make the same errors that they have already made. We never know what the future may have in place for us, but remembering the events of the past allows us to walk into the future without much hesitation or wonder. I feel today as if I have lived the lives of many.

When you least expect it, life may propose something to you. Something you might not necessarily be looking for, but without a doubt has the ability to offer your life some form of enrichment. When this time comes, all we can do is hope that we are living in that particular day with an open mind, heart, and arms.

Mike Ripton was one of life’s proposals of enrichment.

“So, she said, Ripp, you have a stain on your shorts. I looked down and was like, what the fuck. To tell you the truth, hell, I thought it was barbeque sauce. So she reaches down and tries to wipe it off. It was pretty cool she was willing to rub my leg, so I didn’t grab her or anything. Anyway, she brushes my leg and says, it looks like blood, and there’s something in your pocket. And it’s bleeding. I freaked the fuck out,” Ripp took a drink of his beer and a deep breath.

“So I start brushing my leg wondering what the fuck it is and it hits me. I got that fucking finger in my pocket. You carried Kace in the house, so I figured you two were fuckin’. I was like, ‘Shit. What to do.’ I turned, reached into my pocket, and pulled out the finger. When she wasn’t lookin’, I opened the grill and tossed that little nasty fucker in the grill. It fell through the rack and into the fire. About five minutes, and she starts sayin’ ‘Something smells like burning flesh.’ I acted like I couldn’t smell it,” he finished his beer and started rubbing his bald head with the palms of his hands.

I pulled my hood up and tugged it tight to my head. As I started to massage it into my cheeks, he picked up a fresh beer and continued.

“So that little motherfucker stunk up the whole yard. I’d already pulled half the chicken off the grill, but had the other half in there with that stinkin’ ass three month old finger. It’s smokin’ and stinkin’ and making me about half sick. The whole time, I’m acting like I smell nothing. She’s about to barf. I tell this bitch we were eatin’ grapes earlier, and that was a crushed grape in my pocket. But here’s the deal,” he placed his beer on the table, leaned toward me, and opened his eyes wide.

“I put that chicken on the other side of the platter. The finger chicken. And that’s the shit I gave to the girls,” he held his eyes open wide waiting for me to respond.

“God damn, Ripp. The girls? You fed that shit to Kace?” I asked as I pressed my hood into my face.

“Yep. Dude, I’m sorry, but it was just simple math. We had half the chicken that was unharmed. That’s a chicken and a half of the clean stuff. Luckily you weren’t too hungry. Only reason I’m telling you is because you didn’t actually eat any. Had you got into the dirty shit, I’d a kept my mouth shut,” he nodded his head and picked his beer back up off the table.

“I ain’t shittin’ ya. I’d a fed you that shit if I had to,” he said as he tipped his beer bottle up.

“Fuck. You sick fucker. Let’s keep this between us. Forever. I mean it, Ripp,” I said as I opened the face of my hood with my hands.

“Bet,” he said as he held out his right hand.

I reached out and shook his hand, confirming that this conversation stopped here, and would never be discussed again.

“So, after she eats that finger chicken, I ain’t sure I can fuck with her. She’s cute as fuck, but damn, dude. She ate the dirty shit,” he raised one eyebrow and waited.

“You fed it to her,” I paused for an instant, “And you cut it off the guy. You cut it off, and you cooked it, and you’re worried about her being gross for eating chicken that was cooked with it? Chicken that you fed her”

“See, that’s why I keep you around. You always keep shit so real. Yeah, never thought of it like that. I guess if they’re giving prizes for bein’ gross, cuttin’ that fucker off and cookin’ it trumps the finger chicken, huh?” he asked.

“I’d sure think so,” I responded.