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“Bagel Bites, Gatorade, for the Impetuous.”

I am a nineteen-year-old virgin living at my dad’s. Of the four girls in our neighborhood, Pamela is my princess. Her tits are the size of grapefruit. I think her tits are English and Italian; with skin a warm honey hue. Her perfect teeth are so white and lickable, like hard candy.

I am working on a half-pipe in my backyard. It is the worst fucking skateboard ramp ever brought to fruition. I sort of half-ass everything, and I hate most humans especially the ones that do extravagant wood work. What a waste of skin these sawdust warriors are. You can’t go to them for anything except a new rocking chair or television stand. But to me, they are not true artists, just a dime a dozen Home Depot groupies who love straight lines.

I see through my gate holes, Pamela’s favorite orange tight t-shirt flickering behind the planks. These fence planks are reddish from the rust of my dad’s sprinkler systems. If the water wasn’t so filthy, looking like ‘Mars juice’, I would try to get them to spit across Pam’s chest; soaking her fabric to reveal those two sculptures that hang beneath her soft chin.

I let her in; she walks up and down my piece of shit ramp. “I thought each side was supposed to be curved,” she said.

“I suck. Can your dad fix it?”

“My dad hates you.”

“What about your dad?” she said.

“My dad hates me too.”

I hear the whistling of Rob. Whom I consider the neighborhood bully. Rob abuses his victims with mere words, which is worse; because you can get ‘beat to shit’ on the inside, and nobody knows about it.

I pray he is walking his ugly, arrogant poodle past us. He has screwed every girl on the block but Pam; and to me; she is a sacred fish. With a tough Italian side that takes none of Rob’s bullshit. The only girl I ever seen call him “pussy” back. I; on the other hand, am a timid, neurotic wimp; but I feel like I can do some brilliant fucking. I think that’s what women may misjudge; that introverted nuts can fuck ten times better than those open-mouthed jocks.

Rob’s white whistling fades under an owl’s hoot. I stay alone with Pam; we bask in the Florida sun, listening to the mockingbird’s bicker. Her knockers shimmy as she runs amuck over my sorry half pipe.

“You want a board?”

“Sure.”

“Get mine, in the grass over there.”

“No shit.”

She ‘tic tacks’ the middle and avoids the two flat inclines.

“Try dropping in.”

She carries my 1980’s Mike Vallely. Tucks the back truck into the edge of the ramp and leans forward. The board scuds off, landing her on her ass.

“Fuck me!”

I ran with a dick pushing out my boxers and into my cargo shorts.

“You okay?”

“I broke my ass.”

“That would suck, an ass like that; broke, a tragedy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Chris…help me up.”

I casino şirketleri try, and she pulls me. On to my knees, her left thigh propping up my burning nuts. Our lips smudge at first. It tickles. My dick loses consciousness and forms a fresh marble cocoon: the hardest boner of my life.

Her jeans, so tight, like it’s skin. We are pretending to fuck. And I reach under her orange shirt and find soft tits that I have craved for three summers. The right one like cold jelly. I love it collapsing in my palm. I am feeling like a bad boy and I am drifting like sea weed in a current. My entire body just riding a soft electrocuting current releasing from her warm tits.

His voice enters like an ice cube sliding down my spine.

“Chris?”

“Dad!”

“I can’t find Randy.”

Randy is his old, black-potbellied Dachshund that often flattens herself like a pancake to sneak under the fence.

“Where did you see her last?”

Three in the afternoon and my dad is toast. I am experiencing his breath’s wine and garlic like an unwarranted shit cloud.

“Randy!”

My dad standing there, leering at Pam dusting Myakka particles off her ass. I see his dick push out his sweat pants. This horrid site under his ‘Mr. Bill Show’ garden shirt in broad daylight. If you could fuck with a stare and a stance, he is doing it.

I hear Randy’s collar jingling over the fence under a canopy of my dad’s banana trees. I hop over and see this open space. It is perfect for a picnic blanket and a private place to fuck. I hop back over, strangling Randy’s pudge with my arm. I put her down and ponder: I have to plant this seed in Pam’s brain.

“Pam, come check this out.”

Pam used to be in gymnastics before a car accident fucked her back. A disc in her spine was all torn up and needs titanium repair. But she hopped the fence with agility.

“This would be a great place for a picnic bench,” I said.

“This is where you want to fuck me?”

“What?”

“Wut!” she said. “I am not stupid.”

I kept looking for a smile like a spider watches a fly yarn itself up in a web. If the word “fuck” and a smile happen in the same sentence; good news. And; her beautiful oval face, now pulling back her voluptuous lips, for her teeth to glow like Alaska. I am in.

“Chris!”

His voice flies over fence and stings me like a disgruntled hornet.

“Yes Father?”

“I made bagel bites for you and Pam.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Becker”

My dad is an engineer and only speaks using ‘three to five’-word sentences. This is followed by six minutes of silence. No response here is no shock.

“Going to the store.”

“Okay dad.”

“Need anything?”

“A six pack…please, please, please…”

“Will see.”

My dad drives off in his beat-up RX-7 that every pizza delivery man tries to buy because casino firmaları of some unique rotary engine under the hood. And my car stays put: A 97 Camaro with a smooshed driver’s side door and a dead engine. It happened when my drunk ass drove into the McDonald’s drive-thru sign. Trying to get a Big Mac to sober up cost me a suspended license for a whole year.

“Can I ask you?” I said.

“Huh?” Pam said.

“My dad takes like an hour in the produce, and I was thinking maybe we go swimming.”

“I don’t know what that has to do with your dad being at the store.”

Pam only swam once in my pool for my birthday party last year. She wore a two-piece black bikini. Every kid on the block followed her around like puppies.

“You want to swim?” I said.

“I would.”

“You are going home?”

“It is the summer silly.”

“Okay?”

“I wear my bathing suit underneath.”

“I will get towels. Want a beer?”

I return to see her in the pool. Wearing that hot black skimpy bikini. Her firm tits are squeezing together on the top and spilling out on the sides like soft rubber. Her tummy is flat like a skating rink’s surface made of filet mignon. I am walking down in, (I will give it a 74-degree estimate.) gripping two cold Coronas. And my Velcro zipper, on my brand-new lime green trunks, has opened enough for my entire hard-on to be loose.

“Oh Lord!” I said.

“I didn’t see that much.”

“Is that a small pecker joke?”

“Who refers to dicks as peckers?”

“My dad.”

“Really?”

“When I was younger, my dad had this small beanbag frog with red and blue cock and balls. I found the cock and balls to be ominous on first discovery. No other stuffed animals had genitals.”

“Ominous beanbag frog genitalia?”

“My father made it ten times worse when he said, ‘son, that is a frog’s pecker’.”

She is laughing.

I am calculating my dad being gone approximately twelve minutes. In my mind: We kissed a half hour ago. She just saw my erection come at her like a torpedo. How hard can rounding the bases be?

My dad’s archaic banana-yellow rotary phone is ringing. I should have never given him a cell phone. I bet he is calling to ask what kind of beer.

Pamela backs herself against the shallow end’s wall. Facing a fierce brightness; she sips and opens up like a sunflower in a pond. Her tits, firm and loose, wet in the summer’s oven. Both eyelids down like a movie theater screen, leaving two bottom slits, I feel staring. A corner of her lip wrinkle into a smile. I am moving in. Her tongue is beer cold. Everything inside her mouth is slippery, tasting like chalk and mint. I barely touch her top and it truncates into a black string. Both grapefruit tits on full display. I play with them by fingers and mouth. And my triceps and neck burn.

We are sidestepping to the shallowest güvenilir casino part of the pool. I am sliding her black bottoms around her bare feet. Her legs are blurry like two fleshy pillars dug into the moon. While my head is diving like a submarine, I see her shaved pussy and kiss it. I bite it, sucking on it. It is prickly and chlorinated. My tongue is getting lost inside wiggling currents; I swallow water.

Inside this title wave, I prop her to the patio edge. With her enormous bulging tits, and a swollen bubble butt, I smear it like paste. And now spreading her legs, I see her pussy to bobcat eyes, all opened up sailing in the Atlantic breeze. My mouth and cock are going in, both at the same time. The once still pool surface under my ass is wobbling back and forth like an angry ocean.

“This is what fucking is?”

“This is your first time?”

“Oh baby.”

I am finding this spot of joy-filling lightning bolts. Each one, each second, zapping me as I suck her bubble-gum lips and sway her tits with my cock driving pelvis. Creating and listening to this violent watery sound may mimic a spiraling crocodile death-gripping his prey around a swamp’s surface.

“I think I am about to…”

A shit-cloud of garlic and wine rode in on an untimely fleeting gust. Pam is moaning and I am watching her smiling get serious. My swelling head is now directing my palms and fingers to grope her marshmallow tits. I polish down the little fat wobbling on her ass with some anger.

I am fucking her spread eagle as an idiotic naked nineteen-year-old with his asshole father standing behind him.

“Chris. I got you Coronitas because they were out of Coronas. Okay?”

“Oh Fuck! Oh Fuck!”

I am dizzy and my father looks like a cartoon character. With leering that continues photographing Pam’s bare tits.

“Chris?”

“What dad? What the fuck?

“Did you need condoms? I was just at the store, son.”

“No.”

“I got bagel bites, Gatorade, and…”

“Dad!”

With my dad leaving and Pam lighting a Camel Light. “Pam.”

“Yes.”

“You let me come inside of you. You are irresponsible.”

My dad returning in hi pink bathing suit, holding Randy in one hand, and a portable speaker blasting Bob Marley’s “Could this be Love” in the other.

“Dad, I should have worn a condom…right?”

“You’re a ding-dong son. You just threw your life away.”

“What do I do?”

“Worry. That is what I would do.”

“How come nobody…like you or she stopped me?”

“You did the stupid shit and you blame us?”

“Yes dad. You are always on my case about everything!”

Pam is walking out of the pool still naked. My dad’s bloodshot eyes locking on to her like a radar. Strutting her ass and tits around my own dad?

I am worrying I need to be a man. Realizing that nobody is going to be around while I make dumb-shit decisions. I feel like drowning myself. Both Pam and my father right now are enemies, offering nothing but indifference. I must take charge.

“Dad, quit looking at her and Pam, put some fucking clothes on!”

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