Stinger (The Mandarin Connection Book 7)
Page 3
I’m not sad, just angry, as I squeeze the bitter tears from my eyes.
I swipe at them, chiding myself for being so foolish.
Because, I didn’t want to stop.
I wanted to just grab David-Keith’s shorts by the elastic, and pull them down past his knees.
I wanted to free the monster hidden within, so that I could run my tongue up and down its magnificent length.
I wanted to lick the tip, to caress his balls, and cram his entire manhood deep into my throat, gobbling it like an ice-cream popsicle.
I wanted to feel his warm spunk splattering on the back of my throat, filling my mouth with salty, tangy semen; feel it sliding down my lust-crazed, hungry throat.
I just wanted to inhale his scent, feel the pubic hairs ticking my nose, smelling his musk as I pushed my face against his groin, wanting him to pound me again and again until he’d come one more time.
I’d swallow him greedily, and then just stand up and walk off, watching as he looked on with surprise, or astonishment at my performance.
My braver self thinks that I could have done all of that, but in the end, I wussed out.
I wanted to do those decadent, sexy things with him so much, but instead, I had leapt up, crying, and left the magnificent specimen of hunky man that was my stepbrother.
I didn’t want to leave.
But, I had to…
It’s just so wrong, you see.
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CHAPTER FIVE
BEA
I give up.
After two weeks of fucking around with my design, I can’t make any real progress.
The idea behind it is insanely simple, really.
Like most animals, bees need water to survive.
They don’t exactly drink it, like we do.
They store it and take it back to the hive, for the manufacture of honey.
Most beekeepers put water in bowls out next to the hives, or situate the hives near a pond, or a lake.
We’ve done all of that at the Apiary, but every day, there’s a bunch of drowned bees in one spot or another.
It’s sad, and up until now, we’ve had to just deal with it.
Having a birdbath or a pond or some little containers of water near the hives is a good idea.
But, there’s no way to guarantee the freshness of the water that way, and most of the time they get all slimy with algae.
It’s a common problem, and many solutions have been proposed.
My first idea was really pretty basic – I tried to think of how to make miniature water bottles, like baby versions of the kinds used for watering hamsters or gerbils.
Wait, I didn’t mean teeny-tiny bee-sized baby bottles.
I mean, seriously, how silly is that?
Can you imagine bees flocking to the teensy little nipples on those bottles, waiting in line to get a sip of fresh water?
I chuckle at that mental image.
No, this idea works like an infinity pool.
It uses a simple water bowl, with a float lever, like a toilet, and a valve that hooks up to a gravity-fed or hose-fed water supply.
This bowl has a small nozzle that allows the water to flow across a tiled surface.
The idea is that, since the water is constantly flowing, it allows for a fresh-water supply constantly available to the bees.
And, the water is so shallow, because it’s flowing over a shower-tile like surface, so that the bees won’t drown.
And, since these are tiles, the algae shouldn’t form; if it does, it’s very easy to clean, right?
I just am stuck now on how big the tiles should be, in relation to the hive, and where to put them.
Should they be hanging on the side of the hive?
Maybe at an incline?
I envision a mass of sliding bees, like at a water park, going “Wheee!” as they slip along its surface.
Hmmm.
Sort of flat, or maybe vertical?
No, that means the water would just fall right down, and probably drag the little bees along with it.
Now, I can picture the bees falling, lemming-like, off the watery cliff to their doom.
(Did you know that whole lemming think was staged for a film? It was!)
Perhaps I should just place the device on a stand next to the hive?
Or, better yet, in the middle of several hives?
Ugh.
It’s just not coming to me.
I sit there, idly doodling on my pad, trying to come up with the perfect bee waterer.
It’s got to have a clever name, something that screams “BUY ME FOR YOUR BEES!”
Hmmm.
Sprinklee Bee?
A Day at the Beech?
Bees in a Pod?
AquaBee?
Oh, fiddlesticks…I’ll come up with it later.
Right now, it’s time to go watch my luscious twin stepbrothers kick the crap out of the Alabama Wildcats!
I can’t wait to watch them get stung tonight!
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CHAPTER SIX
BEA
Keith-David’s nickname is ‘Stinger’, because when he gets the ball and rushes the line, he tends to push deep into enemy territory.
His jersey number is ‘69’, as I already mentioned.
He’s been known to really knock some hell out of the tackles, linebacker and safety as he plows into them.
David-Keith’s nickname is ‘Thumper’, because he’s just really good at finding a safety or linebacker and ‘thumping’ them onto the ground.
His jersey number is ‘79’.
Funny how that worked out.
That they are identical twins sometimes works to their advantage, on the field, in that the players on the other teams will get confused.
Well, I guess it does.
Sometimes even I get lost watching them play ball, and it’s all I can do to figure out which is which once the dog-piling starts.
Good thing for those jersey numbers.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
STINGER
It’s game time, and I watch my dopey brother, trying to figure out what’s eating him.
He’s been acting kind of weird all day long.
During practice, he kept adjusting his cup, as if he were having some problem with his dick.
“Hey, Thump! Get your hand off your cock, and your head in the game!” shouts the Coach.
The quarterback, Jason Niles, is dancing from foot-to-foot, nervously, like he always does before a game.
We call him “Twink”, which is short for “Twinkletoes”.
Twink calls the play.
“Once we get the ball, let’s go for a 6-drop 3-hole, and Jersey can run downfield for the pass,” he says, nasally, pointing at our wide receiver, Jeff “New Jersey” Walker.
Jeff’s this huge player, who reminds people of Pittsburgh Steeler strong safety Troy Polamalu in his heyday, with the long dreadlocks, and that awesome build.
He looks like a walking dump truck, and most people see him as a defensive end, not a guy who can snatch a ball from the air with only two fingers.
His stats are really good, and he’s looking at a probable first draft pick.
Twink is pretty small for a QB.
He’s Jewish, which is another oddity, although he’s a really smart fucker, and all the cheerleaders want to marry him.
He plays the field, but isn’t serious.
We all know that the NFL scouts have him on their radar, not the least because of his GPA, but also for the fact his father owns one of the largest law firms in the state.
Jason is really good, too.
Twink is analytical, has pretty much memorized the playbook forwards and back, and is a great leader.
He’s also pretty damned generous, and the parties at his father’s estate are fucking legendary.
Especially when we win a game.
Which, for this season, we are already about halfway in, and we�
�re undefeated.
A lot of that is because of Twink, and my brother and I.
Don’t get me wrong.
We’ve a strong team, and our defense is very good.
But, it’s the offense that has made us what we are – undefeated this season, and State Champions the past two years running.
Twink and Jersey have made a lot of great plays, but Thumper and I are known to be the decisive factors for the overall wins.
It’s in our stats, and the Coaches know it, and the other players do as well.
We’re both hoping to get picked up.
I love playing football, and my grades in business administration are good enough.
Thumper’s even better academically, but he’s studying computer stuff, so it’s not really a fair comparison, because I think his courses are a lot harder than mine.
Of course, Bea gets good grades, too, but she’s only studying Education.
I know I sound like an asshole for saying that, but even she admits its pretty easy A’s for her.
The good news is that Thump and I hope to graduate this year, and Bea is only a couple years behind us!
Tonight, however, we are up against the Alabama Wildcats, which is one of the toughest teams out there, bar none.
The Wasps have a solid lead in the Division, but there’s always a chance that Lady Luck frowns on us.
The good news is that, historically, we’re about even in terms of wins with the Wildcats.
Plus, we are in the running for a major bowl game, after our nearly making the Division II finals last season.
I look over at Twink, and Thumper, and I feel the energy of the crowd.
The breeze is cool, and the stadium lights paint everything in stark relief.
We’ve won the first toss, so we choose to receive the ball.
The teams stride out to their places on the field, as the placekicker gets positioned for the kick-off.
Now, it’s time to play ball!
—————
We made a fair play on the kickoff, but had to hand over the ball on fourth.
Three plays later, we’ve regained possession.
Twink huddles us up, and gives instructions.
He claps his hands, and we break the huddle, taking our positions.
He gets down close behind the center.
Twink catches the snap, and passes it back to me.
I can see the defensive line pushing through our men, and decide to run straight up the middle.
Thumper is beside me, running full speed as we bulldoze into the crush of players.
I guess he’s got his cock problem figured out, finally.
At least, his head’s finally out of his ass.
I slam hard into a safety, and we both fall to the ground, and I grab the ball tight as the dog-pile forms.
Once all the players get up from crushing me down into the ground, I stand up, brushing some dirt from my knees.
I’m winded a bit, and wobble over to the huddle, for the next play.
We get a measly two yards on that last play, but there’s no flags.
Second down, with eight more to go.
It’s going to be a long game…
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CHAPTER EIGHT
THUMPER
The first half of the game goes pretty well, all things considered.
‘Twink’ Niles, our quarterback, allows a few interceptions, a fumble, and a shitload of missed passes to get away from him.
Stinger is doing okay, but once or twice it was a close call.
At the start of the game, there was a dogpile where Stinger completely disappeared at the bottom!
And only two fucking yards on the play!
At least there weren’t any flags…
For the third quarter, the coaches decide to send in some second-stringers, to give us players some time to regroup, and to give Stinger a break.
He’s been busting his ass, and getting pretty beat up in the process.
Each goal has been a tough gain, and Jersey and Stinger are showing the wear, with a couple of fumbles and a few interceptions.
Luckily, our defensive line is like a brick wall tonight, so the Wildcats are just barely ahead of us at the half.
I look around, at half-time, at the pretty cheerleaders, and the coaches, and all the usual activity that surrounds the game.
I can smell the sweat, and see the concentration of the other players.
We’re up against a real challenge, for this game.
The Wildcats are decent, with a 6-2 average, and it’s looking like we might have our asses handed to us if we can’t get a move on.
Coach Johnson and Coach Andrews are doing their ‘good-cop / bad-cop’ routine, but this is really just a matter of luck and timing, now.
Some of our second stringers are very good, but I personally feel it’s a mistake to let Stinger sit it out.
Of course, I am biased, just a bit…he’s my twin brother, after all.
The good news is that he probably will be put back into the game in the fourth quarter, as long as we look like we’re doing okay.
But, I miss having him out here with me.
I look over at Jersey, who is pouring a bucket of water over his long dreads.
He shakes his head like a terrier, the water flying everywhere, dousing the crowd and other players near him.
Jersey sucks some water into his mouth, then blows it out with a huge farting noise, and then he flips his head, and his dreads fly over his head and smack him on his back, staining his jersey.
He wipes himself off with a towel, watching the action and trying to find out the state of the game.
He eyes this one player on the Wildcats, who is a real son of a bitch.
The Frenchman.
—————
CHAPTER NINE
BEA
It’s not looking too good for the Wasps as we enter the fourth-quarter.
We’re getting down to the wire, and Frank and Mom are sitting in the bleachers, looking worried.
The Wildcats are really good, tonight.
They’ve managed to take advantage of our quarterback making a couple of bad passes, but there’s been two turnovers, and three interceptions to our advantage.
It’s a close game, at 24 – 21, with only a field goal in the beginning of the fourth that gave the Wildcats the lead.
The Wasps are at their own ten-yard line, and in possession of the ball.
Twink Niles gets the snap, and passes it to Thumper, who suddenly is blasted from the front line into the end zone.
He’s tackled, and flags are thrown on the play.
“Clipping!” cries one official.
“Off-sides!” comes another flag.
“Roughing the quarterback!” we hear.
I look over to where Twink is on the ground, groaning.
A timeout is called, as the medics run onto the field and tend to him.
“The Wildcats are taking their final timeout, with four minutes remaining on the clock,” an announcer comes over the loudspeakers.
Twink is put on a stretcher and taken off the field.
There are boos from the Wasps’ side of the stadium, and we can tell that the other players are looking worried.
I see Stinger and Thumper yelling at some of the players from the Wildcats, who are giving them the finger.
I am waiting for an unsportsmanlike conduct call from the refs, but nothing happens.
Suddenly, it’s the two minute warning, and the Wasps are down by five.
The Wildcats have the ball, and the quarterback throws a pass from their thirty-five yard line to a wide receiver.