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A little bit of this, I think, pouring a couple glugs of rum. And a whole lotta that, I think, emptying what’s left of a carton of pineapple juice into my cup.
I read pineapple juice makes your cum taste sweet, so the more the better, methinks.
Not that I have bad tasting cum. It’s actually pretty sweet on its own. I’ve tried it.
Now, Clark, on the other hand…his cum was pretty gross. But sucking him off got me extra yard time when Bruce wasn’t around, so it was a sacrifice I happily endured.
I wonder if Vale’s cum is sweet.
I sigh at the thought, taking a hearty sip of the liquid goodness.
Vale, Vale, Vale.
Why am I not even surprised that’s where my head went?
If my brain was a museum, three-fourths of it would already be covered in shrines to Vale DuPont, completely eradicating all the passions and trinkets that came before, like a quick-spreading infestation of the most delicious kind.
Oops, scratch that, I mean, Riviera. He’s a Riviera now. My bad, my bad. One day I’ll get it to stick.
To be perfectly honest, though, it’s getting hard to remember there even was a before.
Or rather, an in-between.
Like the past six years, give or take, was just one long fever dream. One so tragically empty of the boy with the cute stern face and the nearly black eyes. The boy I once tasked myself with protecting. My brother.
He’s bigger than you now, a voice reminds me.
Much bigger.
I grin around the lip of my cup at the thought.
Those arms…
They could easily pick me up. Throw me over his shoulder. Hold me up as he pounds into my ass with that huge cock of his.
I felt it. Through his khakis. It wasn’t just big, it was hard!
I can’t wait to see it and feel it and taste it…
And those hands! Holy Cher Horowitz, those hands.
I reach up and brush my thumb over my neck, recalling the feel of that monstrous grip squeezing my throat yesterday. Reveling in the memory of our little bathroom rendezvous.
He somehow managed not to leave bruises; the reddened fingerprints have long since faded.
I wish they didn’t. I want to feel the press of them forever.
Groaning, I roll my eyes back as I turn around and drop my head against the cabinet with a thump.
He was your brother once, a voice pipes up.
I roll my eyes. Barely.
He ruined your life, another voice singsongs, as if trying to burst my bubble.
Pish posh! I silently snipe back with a wave of my hand, before taking another big gulp of my drink.
So I ended up being tossed between juvie and the psych ward for a few years. Was it really that bad? Was it really his fault? Smelly Ol’ Rick had it coming. I was always going to snap. Vale just…sped things up a bit.
