The giant, white, wide screen came to life as the movie started; and the projectionist fiddled with the focus until Elvis wasn’t blurry any more.
Darkness surrounded them. Time for Jack to make his move. He sat behind the wheel, not focusing on the movie while his mind raced. Should I put my arm around her? Maybe I should just kiss her. I wonder if I should go for a feel. What if Toby was lying to me?
Finally, he blurted out, “I like Elvis; he’s a real good singer.” Small talk, but he was so afraid and unsure of what to do.
Angela picked up on his nervous hesitation. She took control and touched her lips to Jack’s ear, and whispered, “What about me, Jack? Do you like me, too?”
The erection Jack had for the last hour and a half got even harder; his balls were bluer than Elvis’s blue Hawaiian floral shirt. “Yes, I like you. A lot.”
She lightly ran her hand over Jacks shoulders, and down his biceps; her fingertips sent surges of electricity throughout Jack’s body, all of which ended up in his groin. “I bet you have the biggest muscles in the whole school.” Her hand came back up his arm, then lightly down his chest, and then slowly back up to his face. She turned his face to hers.
“Would you like to kiss me?”
His mouth was dry; he swallowed hard and managed to answer a crackly, “Yes.”
He puckered up and put his lips on hers. She reclined back on the huge front seat; gently pulling him down on top of her, his lips never left hers. He put one arm under her head to keep his weight off her. His eyes widened when her little tongue parted his lips and explored his mouth. “Unbutton my sweater,” she whispered. His right hand wasted no time in finding the buttons, but he fumbled forever to get them undone.
She took his hand and placed it on her huge bra covered breast; he automatically squeezed one, then the other. Then she pulled her bra up and over those giant melons, and instructed him, “Kiss and suck on my nipples.” She did not need to tell the boy twice.
As Elvis sang Can’t Help Falling in Love, Jack was amazed when her flaccid nipple hardened in his mouth. He felt like Don Juan when she moaned, “Oh, Jack…that feels so good,” causing his nine inch manhood to throb, and ache against his blue jeans.
Angela knew the benefits of foreplay; she let that farm boy work her nipples like a piglet on its mother’s teat for fifteen minutes, from one nipple to the next. “Let me up Jack,” she eventually whispered.
Sensing now was going to be the time; he sat right up. She sat up too and fanned herself. “Boy is it getting hot in here.” She positioned her boobs back in the bra, and then pulled her pink panties off. Jack swallowed hard. He smelled that distinct female aroma, mixed in with lilacs. She guided his hand down between her legs. It felt hairy and soft, but also hot and wet.
“Right here,” Angela said, placing his hand on her trigger. “Not so hard…That’s better; just tickle this spot, real lightly. Back and forth. Yeah…like that,” she gasped out. “Oh Jack! You learn quickly! Oh…a little faster! Yeah! Oh! Yeah, Jack! That’s the way! Oh! Faster! Just a little harder. Oh yeah…Just like that! Don’t stop! Oh! Don’t stop! Oh…As fast as you can! Oh! Oh! Ooh…Goddamn Jack, kiss me! You’re making me come! Faster! Ohh…Jack…Yes! Yes!”
His tongue dove deep in her mouth; his middle finger went back and forth on her clitoris as fast as physically possible. Angela’s moans of ecstasy grew louder, and Jack hoped Toby could hear her.
Finally! The question Jack waited for since the movie started. “Did you bring a rubber, Jack?”
He produced the package from under the map, and displayed the condom to her as if it was the Heisman Trophy. “Why don’t you pull your pants off, and put that thing on? You got me all hot and bothered.”
Jack set the Sheik on the dash, and pulled his pants and shorts off. He sat bare assed naked, except for his white socks and T-shirt. He grabbed the small tin box that contained three condoms and struggled frantically to open it. He finally pulled one out.
Just as he placed the rubber to the tip of his hard-on, it went totally limp! Soft!
He could not stretch the condom over a soft peter. After several attempts, he had the entire cursed thing unraveled, which only worsened matters. He grabbed the base of his pecker and forced the blood to the head. He managed to pull the rubber halfway on to his half a hard-on.
“It’s on,” he announced.
Angela then reclined back down on the front seat and spread her legs wide apart. “I’m ready, Big Boy.”
Jack positioned himself back on top. Angela reached down to guide him in. “Wow! Damn, you got a huge cock!” She brought it to her opening, “Push it in, Jack.”
He pushed, but he only went softer, and his limp dick slid off her vagina and pointed at her belly button.
“It’s soft, and it won’t go in,” she complained, after several more failed attempts. She felt as though she was trying to shove a marshmallow through a keyhole. Then the rubber slid off completely.
“Sit up, Jack, let me work my charms on this big sausage.” Frustrated, she wanted so badly to feel this huge tool banging her insides.
Immediately, he sat up. Immediately she went down. The head filled her mouth as she feverishly stroked the shaft. Although he remained flaccid, he started moaning. In less than sixty seconds, he spewed. Not wanting his man pudding in her mouth, she turned away, as globs of cum flew onto the steering wheel, dashboard and windshield.
“You sure as hell won’t get hard now,” she bitched, and then got dressed. He followed suit, found the tissues he had stashed under the seat, and cleaned the mess.
Angela was not sitting beside him now; she was next to her window. “I’m sorry, Jack, I don’t know what to say.” Then she added, “I can go for that Coke, now, if you don’t mind.”
He muttered, “Okay,” and headed for the concession stand.
In front of Jack, in the food line, a boy had his arm around his date, and Jack thought, I bet he has no problem fucking his girlfriend. They looked happy together, and obviously, the girl loved her boyfriend.
He bought two sodas and a box of popcorn, shuffled his way back to the car, got in and handed Angela her Coke. They made small talk about the movie; at least she did. Jack didn’t have much to say; he half-heartedly ate his popcorn, sipped his Coke, and watched Elvis the Pelvis swing his hips. Neither one spoke on the way back to her house, either.
“Thanks for taking me to the movies,” she muttered, as she got out of the Merc. It was not the jubilant, “Thanks, Jack. I had a super marvelous time! Next weekend?” As he had fantasized she would say.
At Monday’s lunch table, Toby waited until he was alone with Jack, and anxiously asked, “How did your night go, buddy? Was she not as easy as I promised? A real nympho, huh?”
Jack gave him a little grin. “My dad told me if you don’t kiss and tell…You’ll get more kissing.”
“You sly little devil. Did she make you finger her first?” Toby wanted details.
“I’ll never tell.” Jack sure as hell was not going to tell a soul about the disastrous attempt at losing his virginity. Furthermore, he prayed Angela would not tell any of her slutty girlfriends. However, when Jack was walking down the hall to History class, two of her girlfriends giggled as he went by; and then they both glanced down at his crotch. The fucking bitch told!
He felt more embarrassment and humiliation now, than he did when the twins forced him to eat grass in front of the whole school. He was able to rectify that situation; but now, he felt totally frustrated, helpless. As if, he was only half of a man. Jack remembered a time when Dale called Scarecrow a “Prick.” Scarecrow came back with, “I’ll take that as a compliment. A prick is the best part of a man.”
Jack could not believe Angela would actually tell anybody about his impotency problem. That was a very personal and private issue. He turned his head over his shoulder so the giggling girls could hear, and he hollered, “Go to Hell…you fuckin’ sluts!”
They only giggled louder. Moreover,
they both pointed. Then Alicia Smithmeyer let her pointing finger droop.
Their laughter echoed briefly in the hallway. However, it seared deep into Jack’s brain; he heard their haunting, hideous laughter every day from that day on.
Every—fucking—day!
* * * *
Often, Toby came over to Jack’s house to lift weights. “You’re one strong son of a bitch!” he told Jack, after Jack did ten reps of three hundred pounds. Toby was three inches shorter than what his six foot, two inch tall muscular friend was. They had to remove one hundred and fifty pounds from the bar for Toby to do his reps.
“To get strong takes constant lifting,” Jack told his slightly overweight friend, who wore his hair a bit longer than the other boys in school. “The more you lift, the more you’ll be able to lift. And I’ve been lifting a long time.”
Toby struggled on the last rep. Jack, spotting the bar, helped him place it in the supports. “What do you want to do tonight? Hang out at Burger King?”
“I don’t know. That was kind of fun the last time we were there, though, wasn’t it?” Jack stated, with a big smile on his face.
“We’re lucky we both didn’t end up in jail that night,” Toby chuckled, remembering that night. Roughly two months after Jack’s drive-in fiasco, they pulled into the Burger King parking lot; Jack was driving the loud Merc. On their way into the joint, they spotted Angela Wilson and her new steady boyfriend, Ed Croyle, star quarterback from Jonestown High, the neighboring rival high school.
Tall, athletic, good looking and hung like a horse; she landed herself a nice catch. Angela was seriously in love; she had dreams of marriage, and having Eddie’s babies.
Jack parked his clunker, got out, and walked right up to the driver’s door and told Croyle, “Your big fat slut girlfriend likes it when you go like this on her stinky pussy!” Then he demonstrated by moving his middle finger back and forth real fast, while making a monkey face.
Without thinking, Angela shouted at Jack, “Shut your mouth, you fucking Jelly Pecker!”
Ed quickly looked at Angela with a pissed off, shocked expression on his face. Then he turned to Jack, “What the fuck did you say, Asshole?”
“Not only are you stupid, you’re also deaf. I said…your slutty girlfriend likes to be fingered like this!” Same monkey face, same finger action.
As Ed opened his car door, he shouted, “I’m going to kick your fucking ass, you big dickhead!”
“Yeah, Eddie, kick his fucking ass,” Angela encouraged her boyfriend.
Ed took a hard swing at his antagonizer. Jack pulled his head back; Ed’s fist missed Jack’s nose by a half inch. Ed swung as if throwing a Hail Mary touchdown pass with two seconds left in the game. He used so much force that he ended up half turned, with his back to Jack; who then put his size fourteen foot on Ed’s ass and pushed him, hard. Ed flew into the edge of his opened car door; blood gushed from the gash above his left eye and ran down his face onto his varsity jacket. Ed wiped his hand across his face, and then looked at the blood smeared on his hand. “Now you’re really going to get the shit knocked out of you, Asshole!” He charged Jack, to tackle him to the ground.
Jack timed it right, he took a step to his right, and using Ed’s own momentum, he pushed him to the ground. Angela hollered, “Come on, Eddie, get up. Kick his ass!”
The quarterback got to his feet and took a boxer’s stance. “Fight fair, you big Asshole!”
Toby then wisely warned Ed, “Hey Buddy, if you were smart, you would just get back in your car, and leave.”
“Piss off, Jerk. This fucker’s getting what he deserves,” Ed snarled back at Toby.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Toby shook his head and smiled.
Ed did some fancy footwork up to Jack, who was standing flat-footed, only now, he had his fists raised. Ed threw a couple of left jabs, which came up short. Then Ed faked a left jab, and threw a right punch. Jack fell for the ploy, and Ed’s fist landed on his jaw, making a smacking thud sound. Angela clapped. “Hit him again, Eddie! Kick his fucking ass!”
Getting punched in the face really torqued Jack. He shook it off, and then connected with two quick left jabs; then he drove a solid right fist through Ed’s nose. The quarterback went down on his back, out cold. Angela rushed to his side and raised his head off the ground. Ed’s face was a bloody mess; his nose angled grotesquely to the side and his right eye was swelling shut, but he was breathing. She looked up at Jack. “I hate you!”
“Nice girls don’t kiss and tell,” Jack said, smiling and wavering his index finger back and forth in the air. Then he added, “But you’re not a nice girl; you’re just a fuckin’ tramp!”
Apparently, the BK manager called the police; the boys heard a siren’s mournful wail in the distance. Toby suggested, “Let’s make like horse shit and hit the trail!”
They jumped in the Merc and Jack fishtailed out the lot and tore down the road. Four miles later, he had a decision to make, either stay on the back roads, or get on the new highway. “Jump on Thirty-Two, we’ll put some distance between us and the cops,” Toby suggested.
State Route Thirty-Two did eventually cut through Thomas Trotter’s farm, just as he predicted to his brothers years ago. Not only did the four-lane highway divide his farm in two, the ‘bastards used Eminent Domain to legally take twenty-five acres of my land.’ Of course, the state paid current market price for the footage, four hundred dollars per acre. Thomas put ten grand in the bank; but now he had only two hundred and twenty-five acres of land. Crossing the highway every time he wanted to work the fields of what remained of his North Forty plot became a giant pain in his ass.
The extremely loud Mercury took the on-ramp broadside. Jack straightened out his lead sled and tromped the gas; she topped out at one ten.
Toby looked over his left shoulder and saw the cop’s strobe light. “He’s gaining, put the hammer down.”
“That’s all she’ll do. It’s to the floor.”
The old Mercury was no match for the cop’s Chrysler Hemi. His cruiser hit a hundred and thirty and was on Jack’s rear bumper in two minutes with its sirens screaming and the bubble top spinning the red light. Jack pulled over onto the berm, next to a billboard. The cop pulled in right behind him with the strobe still going around and around; the light went across the billboard like a lighthouse beacon. The billboard read; “Ethanol…Fuel from corn…Fuel for the future. A message from The US Oil Company.” The petroleum corporation’s motto was a giant, smiling ear of corn; half husked to show the kernels. The brown corn silk looked like hair sticking out from under its straw hat.
The siren whirled to a stop as the state trooper walked up to the driver’s door; his right hand hovered above his unbuttoned holster. Officer Lucas passed for the stereotyped fat southern sheriff; glasses on a round face, a big beer gut, and he even spoke with a slight southern accent. His left hand shined a flashlight in Jack’s face. “You’re in a world of shit, Boy. We got you for assault and battery, resisting arrest, and speeding. Hell, I’ll even bet a month’s pay you been drinking, too. You can kiss your license goodbye.”
Toby bent over and leaned toward Jack’s window. “Uh…Uncle Bob, we ain’t been drinking.”
The state cop shined the light in Toby’s face. “Toby! What the fuck? What did you two assholes do back at Burger King? That Croyle kid is messed up pretty good.” He buttoned his holster; securing the police issued Smith and Wesson Thirty Eight Special.
The officer and Toby’s dad were brothers; he took Toby fishing as a boy. His wife could not have children; therefore, Toby and his uncle grew close over the years.
“Jack here was just trying to do Croyle a favor, and told him that his girlfriend was a no good slut. He flew out of his car, swinging at Jack. Jack pushed him to the ground, twice! I told the kid he best not mess with Jack; but the kid wouldn’t listen. And then he punched Jack in the face. Then Jack hit him back and we left.” Toby told his uncle the whole story, except the part about t
he monkey face and finger action, of course.
“So you’re saying Croyle hit you first?” The trooper asked Jack; and spit a large mouthful of brown tobacco juice on the ground. It splattered onto Jack’s whitewalls.
“Yes sir. I didn’t want any trouble. I pushed him away twice, but he hit me right here.” Jack backed up Toby’s story by pointing to the red mark on his jaw; proof that he was not lying.
“Well then, that changes everything; I think the assault and battery charges can be changed to self-defense. But did you have to hit him so hard? You broke his God damned nose, for Christ’s sakes.”
“Oh believe me, Officer; I could have hit him a lot harder. I just wanted to end the fight and not hurt the kid too badly. He just kept coming at me.”
“You’re just lucky Officer Malzi wasn’t in this district tonight. He would have added ‘driving a vehicle with no exhaust’ to the charges. That bastard would give a parking ticket to his own mother. I wasn’t sure if you stayed on the township road or took the highway, so I stuck my head out the window, back at the ramp, and heard you whizzing down Thirty-Two. I’d advise you to get your exhaust fixed. And the next time you want to try and out run a Hemi,” he said, smiling, “You’d better be driving a car with a big vee eight. Those straight eights don’t have the horse power like these new Chryslers.”
“Thanks for the advice, Officer. I am saving my money for a new manifold,” Jack said sincerely.
The trooper used his tongue to work the wad of side chew in his cheek. “Toby, if I pull you two over again tonight, I will arrest you.”
Another mouthful of tobacco juice splattered on the ground. “Now, take your friend and get the hell home,” his uncle warned.
“Yes sir, Uncle Bob…uh, I mean Officer Lucas,” Toby said, and smiled.
The next day in school, Jack noticed that Angela was no longer proudly displaying Eddie Croyle’s school ring on her necklace. He dumped the slut.
Jack smiled when another one of Scarecrow’s favorite clichés came to his mind, what goes around—comes back around—only to shit in your face!
Born of Greed Page 7
