Quake3World

sucks

ok

I hide behind the rocks & watch her take her clothes off. Her bodys lumpier than it used to be but that doesnt matter -- my cock jams itself under the waistband of my underwear. Hurts. Kneeling in the sand, I loosen my pants, spit on the ugly things head and start wanking, grunting and going all red in the face. Feel myself. A pretty picture.

Her tits swing bending over to pile her clothes neatly folded on the beach. The cleft of her ass is hairy. I want to suck on her ass, stick my tongue in the sweaty groove of it, lick her assholecherry. A seagull passes over my head, lobs of a globule of runny shit almost hits me. Only makes me wank harder.

She steps ginger-dainti-prissily into the water. Her nipples are hard. I want to bite them off look so good. She walks into the water knee-deep & dives her ass flashing white before disappearing below the surface of the greeny water. She stays under... I slip my fingers around her like waterweeds, slimy & cold, & she gasps my finger jams into her cunt dry at first but my digit soon wets her & shes as slippery as an oyster my weedy fingers fingering her the sticky goo of her hot cunt my face mashed against hers & I rub my cock against her ass until she begs me to put it in her which I do & she explodes gulping little seagull sounding cries into my chest as I pump into her --

Course that doesnt happen.

When she dives I dash out behind the rock, run as best as I can with near-bursting-cock, & grab her white cotton panties from the pile of clothes on the sand. Run back behind the rock. Jam the crotch of those panties into my face & inhale deep whilst frigging myself like some sort of demon. Wrap the cottony fabric around my dick & come.

I want to return the panties, sticky & gross with my jizz, slip em back inside her jeans, but shes surfaced by now so I just leave em there behind the rocks & sneak off.

Stay away from my sister, ya stinkin little cunt, Brady says before smashing me in the face with his meaty fist. I go down & swim around in the view of boots and shoes & ugly feet looking up at Bradys gross drooling face & just hope he doesnt decide to kick me in the teeth or the spine or anything. The rest of the pub doesnt even seem to notice that Im lying on the sticky floor. Brady & his pals glare at me for a while more & I try to convincingly whimper a bit & they leave, satisfied. I get up & ask Kate the bartender for some ice to put on my face. Shes sorta sympathetic, I guess, & I wonder if I can get anything out of it, standing there with a pint-glass rammed up against my already swelling-up eye & her looking soft & gooey. Well sort of. Not enough, I suppose. I order another pint.

Letter came in the mail for me today. Mom left it on the table for me, along with her usual note re getting a job doing chores doing something anything, none of which I did, of course. Made myself some coffee -- gave the dog leftover still sitting on stove, all cold & disgusting, skim on top -- dog didnt like it much either. Went out & sat on the porch in the bright sunny (late) morning quiet drinking black coffee with lotsa sugar, eating a box of poptarts. Listened to my walkman. Supposed to have frosting for them, the poptarts, but couldnt find any of the damned little packets. Probably cuz I ate them all already, sans tart.

Letters from Hughy down south country, spewing on about Hitler again -- der fuhrers birthday coming up again or something. Tiresome, Hughy is, more often than not, threatening to come visit again -- his gran lives up here -- hes only amusing if I feel like pissing off the bleeding-heart-types with his displays of crypto-mystico-pseudo-fascism-crap. Included in his letter some lovely sketches of himself bashing the brains outta puppies with human femurs. Not sure what exactly he meant by them pics -- spose a headshrinker would have a field day with it. Or maybe not. Too mundane. Cliché. Fuck him.

Megs home for the summer, heard Brady saying other night, home from uni, her studies and all, looking at the stars. Astronomy. Or is it astrology, can never remember which ones which. Nah, astronomy. Stars. Should go see what shes up to, bet shed like the company, even mine, stinking little cunt that I am…

I should be getting work done, my nights free. It would've been so nice to stay down south, but it certainly saves on rent. Still, it's unlikely that I'll find any sort of decent employ up here. I just hope all my brains don't all leak out whilst I'm here.

"Snap out of it Meg," Rosemarie said, not unkindly, "we've customers," and so we did; a couple old biddies shuffling in for their afternoon tea and biscuit. Rosemarie chatted and laughed with them while I scurried about getting menus and water glasses and a pitcher to their table. They smiled up and watched my flitting-about-movements as if I could do no wrong, which I certainly hoped I was so. Paranoid that I'd drop something or spill something or spray someone, scald them with piping hot onion soup or an entire pot of tea, and Rosemarie would be disgraced and no one would frequent her teashop anymore and she'd go out of business. Foolish musings, foolish me, just the way I'm wired, sometimes. Sometimes.

"You're the Brady girl, isn't that right?" one of the little old ladies quavered when I set her raspberry scone down in front of her.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Thought t'was so," the other said, addressing her companion. She turned to me: "Your Auntie June was just telling us about you the other day, when was that now... " She fell into thought a moment and I stood there standing over their table, poised, teashop tableau, waiting for her to continue, wondering what June had been telling people now. "Oh, yes!" she lights up like a Christmas tree, "t'was last month, that news about the satellite, you know the one, the photos of Venus and all."

"Voyager," I said.

"That's it," the other old lady nodded.

"Right," continued the first, "and June got to talking about how you were studying the stars and all down in the big city and how everyone here was all so proud o' you and what a shame t'was that bloke down there broke it off and you all on your lonesome again."

"Yes," I found myself saying, "it is a shame... and was there anything else you wanted, then?"

"Oh no, we're fine, thanks, love," one of them said, "we won't keep you from your work," she patted my hand, while the other beamed at me, "babbling on... "

Got Blacky to fuck a sheep once, dared him to do it, & he did the stupit fucker. No way Im sticking my thing into a sheeps hole -- sheep are disgusting enough as it is, all caked in dried shit, just imagine their cunts. But Blacky did it cuz we egged him on & hes always one to do a dare -- always a good one to have around for that really immature thing that really needs doing -- theres always something really immature needs really doing -- he said it didnt feel no different to him than a chicks fanny, but what then does he know. Wouldnt have had any if it werent for his sister.

Im one ta talk.

Dont know how it is I get those I do, & even then, theyre pretty few & far between, & its probably just a mercy fuck in the first place. Not that I care, cunt is cunt, & beggars cant be choosers. Suppose if my brain worked right might have more of a chance with them, but maybe thats not so & its just my fuckt-up brain Ive got to thank. Theres always Jenny, though, can always do her. That one year, summer school, school half empty only the losers, the stupit people, & it was her got in trouble for letting me do things to her, letting her do things to me -- in the janitors closet all the other kids out for recess & she let me stick my hand in her panties & her snatch was all wet & gooey & Id rub her then suck my fingers, she liked that, when I sucked my fingers, when I sucked hers, when she sucked me & Id come in her mouth & shed always slurp back my spunk like it was milk, like she was milking me dry, like she could never get enough. She let me put it in her once there in the half-dark musty smelling closet with mops under my feet soap cleanser smell -- always makes me horny, now, that soap smell -- bent over and skirt flipped up over her ass & panties down round her ankles & she told me to fuck her fuck her cunt & I did, though it wasnt long, wasnt in there long, cuz I came so quick, once I pushed my dick between her legs & slipped it into her gash…

Hughy sez he might come up, I tell Blacky. Hes sitting on the porch steps rolling a j. Hughy was there when Blacky fuckt that sheep. He thought it was disgusting & left, dont know why, all the rest of us were laughing our gobs off.

Yeah? sez Blacky. Hes a bit fuckt-in-the-head, no?

Yeah, I shrug, but hes good for some damage.

Struth. Blacky lights up, takes a drag, passes it. What ya doin today?

Dunno. You?

Neh, he shrugs. Pass him back joint, he takes another drag.

Hear Megs workin at Rosemaries Teashop.

You that stupit? he coughs. Aint learnt anything from gettin the shit kicked outta ya other night? Besides, whats she likely to do with you?

Didnt get shit kicked outta me, I say sulkily, barely a couple punches. Just went down sos to make fuckin Brady happy. Dont bogie that joint, holding out my hand for it.

Blacky looks at me weird like, passes it, saying, Yeah, whatever. Dont say didnt warn ya.

One has to go away to appreciate things. The country around here is so beautiful. I guess I'd forgotten, although how that might be something one would forget, I don't know. I suppose it's not forgetting so much -- just one gets accustomed to things, one gets use to surroundings, aren't so aware, aren't so appreciative…

I wish I could have a thought that didn't end up with Grant, goddamn it.

Wish I could stop thinking about him. He's not worth thinking about…

The ocean never changes. The soft brown sand strewn across the patient rocks, constantly insinuating itself into every nook and cranny, wearing, rubbing smooth. The wind carrying that sweet, salt, decay smell -- sometimes I can smell myself in the wind, smell the ocean in myself... If the tide were in, I'd swim again, the water cold and buoyant, holding me like arms, like a body, like lying on, lying in some body…

The water is blue-black like a plum. The light of the setting sun glows from behind the hills, blurring their peaks, making them indistinct, haloed with a warm pink light. The North Star, Venus, already visible. Mars. Vega. The sea-wind on my exposed neck, my tilted-back head, the soft ache in the back of my neck, craning my head back to look up, pick out the stars slowly fading into visibility... the sea-wind on my throat, on my skin, slipping around me like fingers, like his touch, like his hands, his…

... why must I over-romanticize everything…

Weve all got the giggles, fits of em, & my stomachs hurting something fierce all clenched up like a knot in my gut sos I can hardly breathe. But its good. The exhiliration. Yeah. Cant stop giggling & we run, up into the hills, away from town, stumbling & tripping over our own feet like a buncha morons the cool air tasting sweet like honey, running up, up into the dark hills, & collapsing in a bubble of snorting, choking laughter in the grass.

Oh, that was sweet, Hughy sez, this maniacally idiotic grin plastered cross his face & stuck there like it was painted on & he couldnt crack it. That was sweet, he sez again.

Sure was, I say, though no doubt Im gonna get the shit kicked outta me again, next time Im down the pub…

We settle down a bit, stop giggling, well, I do. Blacky looks worried-like.

But it was worth it, eh? Hughy asks.

Oh yeah, I grin shit-eating grin. Definitely. Blacky grins too, but still worried some.

Ran into Brady in town, Brady & a bunch of his chums, & they had fun puttin the wind up us, razzin us & trying to provoke me. But I didnt do anything, right there in the middle of the street, surrounded by him & all his meathead pals. I was ready just ta forget it, they left us alone finally, but Hughys looking real pissed like it was some affront to his personal dignity, fact that Bradys into terrorizing me.

He stares after the group of em, walking away, & Im worried hes gonna do something real stupit like I dont know what -- & he -- we -- did, but least it wasnt right there when for sure they woulda beaten us silly.

Cmon, he sez, follow me.

Watchya gonna do? Blacky sez, nervous-like.

This way, & he starts running after Brady & his gang. Blacky & I give each other an oh-shit-look, were fuckt now, but follow Hughy anyway. May be a crazy fuck, but hes a friend, sorta. We are all preparing ourselves for a beating, when Hughy shoots down an alley.

Where ya going? I yell & he just waves us to follow.

We take this alley to the backlane & take it, running hard, & then Hughy points out a fire escape. Up there, he sez, onto the roof. Blacky & I look at each other again. Shrug. What the hell. Up we go after Hughy. & there he is on the edge of the roof, looking down on main street, & Im thinking What the hells he gonna do, when he turns & hes got his cock in his hand.

What the fuck ya doin? Blacky yells.

Shh, he hushes him, theyre just coming. Look. & theres Brady & his buds, strolling ever-so-casual-like down the sidewalk. Cmon, Hughy sez, get yer thing out.

Wha for? Blacky asks.

To piss on them, idiot.

Even though we are scared shitless, I am for sure, we cant stop giggling, even afterwards, lyin in the grass tryin ta catch our breath & half sick to the stomach with fear & exhiliration.

That was sweet, Hughy mutters again, shaking his head, like he cant believe himself what he did. What we did, the three of us standing there on that rooftop with our pricks dangling out & arching golden streams of piss steaming in the early evening cool off the rooftop out into the air & raining right onto Brady & his mates, right into their hair & down their face & soaking their shirts & of course they look up -- they look up -- which means, they only get more of it, right on their faces, & its like Im full of never-ending piss, its never gonna stop & it takes them forever to realize, to taste it or something, to realize were pissing on them, where its coming from, & theyre screaming like girls, abso-fuckin-lutely furious & we run & we run & we run laughing our faces off & so sick sweet, yeah, feeling so fucking good, lying in the soft grass face hurting from smiling so much, gut from laughing so much.

Lying in the soft grass, staring up at the stars. I wish I had my binoculars. It seems so long since I've actually looked up, looked up at the stars, and I guess I haven't since I've been here. Who knows why. Perhaps they're too reminiscent of... him. As if their light, their millions-year-old light, were tainted by him. But now, now, it doesn't seem to matter -- now I can lie here in the dark, in the quiet, in the soft grass, and stare up at the stars unconcerned with Grant. Maybe I'm over him, maybe I'm over him.

A scream jerks me upright, the shock of it in the quiet night. It sounded close -- what was it, an animal? -- but I can't see anything around me in the dark. I sit and listen nervously, even stop breathing, the sound of it too loud. And there it is again -- but it's no animal, it's a person. And the sound of more voices, angry shouting, familiar... my brother.

I jump up and run towards the sound, shadow shapes soon visible in the night, a knot of bodies clumped over something -- someone -- arms and legs moving, swinging, raining kicks and punches, and my brother, the lout, among them.

"John Brady!" I scream at the top of my lungs and as one the knot of bodies freezes, "John Brady, what on earth are you doing!?" and maybe my voice sounds like mom -- or even dad -- vocal reminiscence -- because John just bolts. Rather than face me, he just bolts and of course all his cronies immediately leap after him and I watch a moment, bemused, feeling... powerful... as they bound down the hillside.

A groan brings me out of my reverie and I quickly kneel beside the body in the grass. He's cowering, twisted foetally in on himself, shaking and at the touch of my hand he seems to shrink even more into himself.

"It's okay," I assure him, "they're gone. I'm not going to hurt you."

Gradually, like a flower, almost, he slowly, stiffly uncurls, unfurls. He's bleeding from a cut in his forehead. Without thinking, I wipe the blood away from my hand and as he looks up at me, realize: "Oh. It's you."

Her hands on me are like fire, like heat, like pain, pain & pleasure both, on my cuts & scrapes & Im so hard I dont really feel the hurt the pain or its turned into pleasure & Im sure Im gonna come just right there right then my cock fit to burst as hard as stone as rock as metal as lead in my pants. Her touch & the cool night air the breeze cooling the heat of my blood & her face framed by the starshine the stars glowing in the sky around her head & the smell of the ocean the smell of her the smell of soap the smell of her cleanliness smell of the stars around her head in her eyes --

It was you, she sez, cleaning me, sponging away the blood with a hanky or something, my t-shirt, maybe, Im not sure -- it was you, & she stops looks down at me, who took my underwear, wasn't it.

My cock wilts, a bit, & I swallow. Yeah, I say, it was me.

Oh, Jamie, she shakes her head & it sounds like shes gonna cry or something. Jamie, her hand tenderly cups my cheek, I wish you'd stop this. I wish you'd stop pretending this… brain damage or whatever it is you want people to think.

Why? I ask. What does it matter to you?

"How long do you think you can keep this up? How long do you think people will let you? How long before you go too far and do something you really regret -- or something people won't let you get away with? You can't pretend to be mentally -- or morally -- impaired forever."

"No? You don't think so?" I say sarcastically.

"No, you can't." She stares down at me sadly and I wish it were possible that I could kiss those lips, feel those lips pressed against mine, again, one more time. "And it matters to me," she continues, "because I don't want to be responsible. You have no right! You have no right to do this to me! It's over, it's been over for years, and you can't keep doing this to me!"

And with that she stands and stomps away, as best one can stomp in soft grass, and I cry "Wait! Meg, wait!" but she doesn't and I don't know what I'd say to her anyway -- just lie bleeding and achingly sore and watch as she stomps away through the grass, silhouetted against the stars in the midnight black of the sky.

the fuck

the aids can be rough, or so I've heard.

i didn't read any of that

Got Blacky to fuck a sheep once, dared him to do it, & he did the stupit fucker. No way Im sticking my thing into a sheeps hole -- sheep are disgusting enough as it is, all caked in dried shit, just imagine their cunts.

in the janitors closet all the other kids out for recess & she let me stick my hand in her panties & her snatch was all wet & gooey & Id rub her then suck my fingers, she liked that, when I sucked my fingers, when I sucked hers, when she sucked me & Id come in her mouth & shed always slurp back my spunk like it was milk, like she was milking me dry, like she could never get enough. She let me put it in her once there in the half-dark musty smelling closet with mops under my feet soap cleanser smell -- always makes me horny, now, that soap smell -- bent over and skirt flipped up over her ass & panties down round her ankles & she told me to fuck her fuck her cunt & I did, though it wasnt long, wasnt in there long, cuz I came so quick, once I pushed my dick between her legs & slipped it into her gash…

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