Will to Live

by M. Christine

  WILL TO LIVE

  by

  M. CHRISTINE

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  Published by

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

  Copyright © 2017 by M. CHRISTINE

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-68299-224-1

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Kelly Martin

  Editor: Jess Costello

  Printed in the United States of America

  Acknowledgement

  With gratitude, I would like to acknowledge the brilliant influence of Ernest Greene, Anne Denbok, Lisa Jenio, and Morgen “Tex” Hagen, for their resourceful feedback, and a big thanks to the delightful Erotica Readers & Writers Association. Lastly, an enormous thank you to Kelly Ann Martin, Max Morales, and Pej Behdarvand for all their insightful help and encouragement.

  Chapter 1

  Terms

  “I need to eat some ass!” vented Yuri.

  He was talking to his pal Williamson Franco. They knew one another since they began arts magnet high school. Now they were both eighteen, graduated a semester early.

  Yuri wrung his hands, then rubbed his head, trying to relieve some stress. He blathered on about his troubles to Will, who was a good listener, a good friend.

  “A fucking cease and desist letter! Fuck international corporations!” Yuri tried not to hyperventilate by cupping his hands over his mouth and nose, breathing in and out to maintain his oxygen.

  While Will’s focus in school was visual arts, Yuri navigated the performing arts department very well, spearheading an amazing music group that was already immensely popular. Righteous Ding Dong was the name, and their live performances involved instrumentation, DJs, and a mesmerizing theatrical production. Now that Yuri was out of high school, his group was on the verge of a higher level of success, packing pretty big venues and releasing recordings that garnered positive press notice. Each show began with Yuri spinning music, and then “Ring Ding Dong” by Dr. Dre signified the beginning of Righteous Ding Dong’s set.

  Will was always a bright, extraordinary kid with a keen aura. Despite difficulty at home, he consistently did the right thing. At a very young age, he was able to see the forest for the trees. Now he was a man, and a great support for his riled up, creative friend.

  Yuri was livid because the current owner of the Ding Dong brand of junk food cakes was taking legal action to stop the use of the words ding dong in the name Righteous Ding Dong.

  “Gaaah! I’m dying here…need to shoot a load. Need to tongue chick ass!” he yelled.

  Will did not judge Yuri for this hankering. Since Yuri was something of a lad about town, he did his share of sexual experimenting, and really enjoyed submitting to a girl’s succulent ass. Will heard all the exploits and discoveries from Yuri, chuckling at them when appropriate, but he was mainly a good listener.

  Regarding the supposed trademark infringement, Will offered some sage advice: “If you change the presentation of the words ding dong a bit, like make it one word, no space, do you think that would fly?”

  Yuri’s grumbling suddenly became quiet.

  “Yeah, that might work,” he said. “I’ll ask my lawyer tomorrow.”

  Though the idea did calm Yuri, he was still tightly wound, so he followed through with his plan to procure a hookup with a female anus. He phoned Kendra, a girl he had sex with frequently. She was extremely hot and sophisticated sexually, though just a couple years older than Yuri.

  Will listened to Yuri’s end of the conversation with Kendra, his urgency very evident. It appeared his pleas were working, though she had an additional request to add to the arrangement.

  “You want wha…? Oh, hmm.” Kendra’s demand threw Yuri for a loop, but sensibly he thought quickly and kept his main fetish goal in mind. “Okay, I’ll bring someone.”

  “Will, I need a favor,” he said after he ended the call. “This babe is wild, out there, totally hot. She’s into my ass love, but wants a little more tonight, bit of daisy chain.”

  Though he hadn’t participated in group sex, Will knew—from Yuri’s incessant bawdy talk—about daisy chains.

  “Kendra needs another pair of pants, if you catch my drift. She sucks a mean dick,” Yuri said to tempt Will. “What do you say? I’d really be grateful…I’m still so tense!”

  Will did not think of himself as a slut, but the possibility of oral sex made Will swell in his trousers.

  “C’mon, I know you’re gonna say yes.” Yuri was almost jumping up and down. “Yeah?”

  “Okay, sure,” Will finally agreed.

  Once they arrived at Kendra’s sleek apartment, she got right to the point and explained the plan: although she and Yuri engaged in unprotected sex—they scheduled regular clinic visits to test for STIs—Will would need to use a condom. Kendra had a special chair Yuri bought for her with Righteous Ding Dong proceeds. The chair let Kendra sit comfortably, but exposed and parted her ass crack and pussy for Yuri to service below.

  “I’m not always a top,” she explained.

  Will, though green with this lingo, understood.

  “I’m very balanced. I like being top and bottom, often topping from the bottom—like now.”

  Kendra espoused her philosophical ideal of sex while she settled herself on the chair. She wore stockings, a garter belt, and stilettos, as well as a half-cup bra to complete the look. She beckoned Will toward her, her face level with his fly, which she deftly undid. When he looked down at this brunette vixen, he detected some Asian ancestry.

  Yuri was already set up under the chair, sighing at the sight of her slit.

  “While Yuri eats my ass, I’ll service your cock—with a rubber to be safe,” Kendra told Will. “Is that agreed?”

  “Uh-huh,” agreed Yuri with a muffle, his mouth already planted in her heavenly cave as he stroked his full-to-bursting cock.

  When Will’s hefty erection was wrangled out, Kendra was pleasantly enthused.

  She smiled lustily and fondled it before opening a Magnum-brand condom to fit over his stiff meat.

  “Gobble, gobble,” she said.

  Will enjoyed that, as well as the power his prick had over her demeanor. He liked how she began turning slutty at the sight of his hardness. She sank her skilled mouth onto the dick, but removed it right away and held it to the side of her face.

  “You’re eighteen, right?” she checked.

  Will nodded, exuding a magnetic confidence well beyond his years. The next moves confirmed that Kendra really knew the business end of a cock, sucking and slurping the girth immediately, with no coy lead-in. Her head bobbed, which caused her sexy high ponytail to wave temptingly. So Will grasped it at the super-tight hair elastic, gently but firmly pushing her skull in unison with her motion. Kendra did not object, in fact she let out an earthy groan, which caused Yuri to groan. Will had almost forgotten about Yuri, but his mind zoned back to the feeling on his dick down the chick�
�s throat, and was pleased that both her hands were busy stroking and squeezing his balls. No sound came out of Will—he kept her working, holding her head in place, watching her through calm, dreamy eyes. Kendra looked back at him, showing off her naughty oral delight, getting sloppier by the second. The lube coating the rubber mixed with her saliva made for a noisy blowjob, and Kendra’s makeup was smearing. She didn’t care though, she was an experienced player, and part of the fun of down-and-dirty sex was getting dirty. Will noticed her face getting more flushed, her fellating taking on a vacuum quality.

  Though it didn’t break the momentum of the dick sucking, Yuri hissed out a slightly high-pitched sigh, signaling his climax. He must have tapered off the butt French kissing, as Kendra extracted Will’s penis from her mouth, but never stopping the stimulation with her hands, and ordered Yuri to keep going, adding “stroke my clit.”

  Grateful for the release, Yuri complied. Kendra’s earnest sucking continued, her heightening pleasure indicated by some deep ooohs, stifled of course by Will’s penis in her mouth.

  “Don’t come yet,” Will said.

  He held the back of her head with both strong hands, guiding her and pumping her mouth. Will watched his manhood disappear a few times behind her lips and teeth. Between that sight and Kendra still shamelessly staring him in the eye, Will shot a load. He crammed his thick, lengthy cock in her mouth to the hilt, nestling her pouty lips into his pubes.

  It did the trick for Kendra too, for once Will completely invaded her mouth, she quivered all over, assisted nicely by Yuri’s attention to her clit.

  As her orgasm subsided, she rose, not minding that her pussy was dripping juice down the inside of her thighs, not minding that her face was wet and puffy. Will carefully tried to remove the condom, but she pushed herself close and grabbed his spent, partially covered cock, rocking herself against him in an endorphin high.

  “Thank you, Will,” she whispered, before giving him a light kiss on the lips.

  Yuri rolled onto his side and fell asleep momentarily, then awakened himself with a startling snore.

  “And thank both of you for helping me out,” he said, getting ready to leave. “I feel so much better.”

  Chapter 2

  Going to Bed

  Will came home at around one a.m. He was sober; his mom was half asleep on the couch with the TV on. Her bong was in reach on the coffee table near two empty beer bottles, and a mostly-empty bowl with cereal remnants—Apple Jacks—was precariously teetering on the edge. Will picked it up, along with the bottles, and carried all of it to the kitchen.

  The kitchen was neat except for some dirty dishes, and the open cereal box was left out. In one of the cabinet drawers that he kept in order, Will found a clothespin to secure the cereal bag to avoid staleness. He put the box into a cupboard. As Will continued tidying up, his mom stirred and mumbled a bit.

  Her name was Ginger. Will called her Ginger since he was about ten, which was the time he started taking more care of her than she did of him. That was when his older brother Paulson started making trouble: partying, stealing, incarcerated at one point. Paul spent a short time locked up in Downey, from which he was released physically unscathed, since he was curiously—and no doubt appropriately—known as Psychoclops within the facility. Fortunately for Paul, this ominous legend gave him a buffer of safety against jailhouse assaults. Psychoclops cleverly avoided prison time thereafter, and his moniker reverted for the most part to Paul, who settled into a life as a habitual drug user with all the sad, typical dings and whistles.

  Will was in the middle of washing the dishes when Ginger finally formed words.

  “Hey, honey, thank you for doing that,” she slurred. “Did Paul come home with you?”

  “I don’t hang out with Paul, remember, Ginger?” Will said with impatience. “He’ll come back when he needs something.”

  Ginger sighed. “He’s been gone for three days. I hope he’s okay…do you think he’s okay, Will?”

  “He’s likely all right. I’m going to sleep.” Will did a safety check in her lounge area for smoldering matches or cigarettes.

  He picked up her lighter from the floor and set it near the bong. Next, he locked the front door and an open window.

  “Good night, Ging.” Will kissed his mother’s head, and she patted his inaccurately, swiping at his ear instead.

  His room had a bookcase packed with comics, all in impeccable order inside plastic sleeves. There were a few that did not fit, stacked neatly next to the unit. Will had a vague plan to find another cheap or thrown-away shelf to store his library more professionally.

  He had other plans too. Will had been accepted to the prestigious Art and Design Polytechnic. The goal was to be in the illustration program, which covered all bases—digital, traditional, animation, book design, fashion illustration and more—to ensure a job and a great career. Most of all he hoped to be an animator. Even as a kid Will was always drawing, making art. He would often make his own comics. It made him feel high, but at ease. It was a great escape, and his attendance at the magnet high school was a blessing. He was ready to go to college, but the tuition part was still being worked out—though he was promised some financial aid.

  Will took off his pants and shirt, then reclined on the sheet with the blankets kicked away, underwear remaining. He was still warm from his three way, and wanted to cool off. He saw a couple of pornos in his time that featured two guys and a girl, but those scenes didn’t resemble the kind of threesome he’d just indulged in. Yuri wasn’t even in his view most of the time. It seemed the real connection was between Kendra and himself, and Yuri was having more of a sideshow.

  Will liked Kendra, enjoyed the chemistry ignited by their session. She simply liked interesting sex, and wasn’t hung up on anything—totally uninhibited. There was nothing sentimental about the encounter, and they’d each had a great time. In Will’s case, it was a pleasant surprise that gave him a mood lift.

  With this lasting sex high, it was easier for him to not let the burden of his family drag him down. He was the man of the house, the one who kept stuff afloat, but he wanted to sleep. Will had some image-sorting dreams at first, his brain replaying the evening’s events: going to Kendra’s apartment, Kendra swallowing his cock, Kendra kissing him. Then his REM settled on his art, and he watched himself sketch a peaceful home enveloped in deep tones of warmth.

  Chapter 3

  Will’s Doldrums

  The digital clock read seven thirty-five the next morning when Will was rustled out of a satisfying sleep. He heard his brother Paul’s dulcet voice down the hall, followed by Ginger’s worried words: “Where’ve you been? Are you okay? Do you want breakfast?”

  Will’s rested body tensed up with some dread. He wanted to sleep more, but knew he needed to get up to check on things. He made it to the hall, where his mom walked back toward him with a desperate smile.

  “Paul’s home. I’m going to start breakfast for him,” she reported, as if it was a cheerful start to a new day.

  Will went to Paul’s room at the end of the hall. He knocked, and there was a soft response, which Will interpreted as a clearance to enter.

  Inside was a stark mess. Although Will took care of cleaning the house in general, it was understood that he would not touch the squalor Paul chose to claim as his room. Will did ensure that food and stuff that would attract bugs was not left in there, but that was it. There was a slew of garbage under an unused empty desk with no chair, and a small gaggle of clothes in a corner that Ginger would launder for him about once a month at the Hi Ho Laundromat or Iggy’s Coinwash. Ginger would fold the clean clothes and leave them on top of his desk, but they quickly ended up piled on the floor. There was no bed. Paul did have a twin mattress, but he moved it into what would have been a nice walk-in closet, which was where he stayed when he was not wandering the city.

  Paul lay stomach-down on the dingy, sheetless mattress. Will noted that he was breathing steadily, and that his Dickies pants we
re stained with shit.

  “You should shower,” Will told him.

  “Yeah, okay,” Paul said.

  Will stood there a few moments more, and though Paul was aware of his presence, he conked out.

  Will went to the kitchen.

  Ginger stood at the toaster. She carefully put the two crispy bread slices on a plate as if they were delicate gems. The butter was out, but she hesitated. “Do you think Paul wants it dry? Or with a smidgen of butter?” she asked Will.

  He pointed to the butter instead of telling her, since he was tired and irritated to be awoken earlier than he expected. While Ginger poured orange juice, he surveyed the cabinets, noticing that food and supplies were scant. She sensed Will’s concern.

  “Your dad gave me some money,” she said almost inaudibly. “We can buy some stuff today. Oh, and I’ve got a little more product to sell.”

  This information was not a great comfort to Will, since the product was weed and various painkillers. This meant there would be people dropping in. Ginger did this for awhile. Though she justified it as “helping us get by,” much of her gain went to Paul’s habit.

  The “dad” thing was a source of hurt for Will. Although Ginger was compelled to add the suffix -son when formally naming her male children, their father was not named Paul or William. Their biological dad was Kevin, a white man who decided to take a progressive stand and move his other, publicly acknowledged family into a “historically underserved” neighborhood, so as not to shelter his legitimate kids from people of color. So, while his white wife and children lived that experience, Kevin secretly romanced many women living in that section of town, including Ginger. Though Kevin reputedly had affairs with up to thirty different single women, Will was pretty certain that Ginger, Paul and he were the only secret family spawned from him.

  In Ginger, Kevin found a sexy young lady who possessed an exotic brew of ethnicities: black, Latino, and, she claimed, Chinese. “James Brown had some Chinese in him, too,” she stated frequently.