by Anne, Betsy
Lach’s try-out goes so well, and the White Sox organization offers to sign him to the team. Our parents couldn’t be more proud of him. The team’s stadium is close to our dad’s fire station in Chicago’s South Side, so he can see most of his home games.
I struggle through my sophomore year. I fail two classes fall semester, and I’m on academic probation when our season starts. I’ve had fights with two of our pitchers, and been thrown out of a game for threatening the umpire. I guess I needed my babysitter after all. I finish the season, and decide to go back to Chicago. I’m never going to the majors, and that’s OK. I never had that kind of desire like Lach, anyway. Deep down I always knew I’d end up at the fire academy. I’ve always had such admiration for my dad and the men he serves with. My dad is the district deputy chief in one of the toughest areas in the city. I’d love to do that job right alongside him.
I get in the academy, due in no small part to my dad’s name, I’m sure, and I fly through it. I graduate at the top of my cadet class. I love it more than anything else I’ve ever done. For the first time in my life, my parents are happy with the decisions I’m making.
It was difficult for my parents to leave Scotland. We lived in a small town, the same town both my parents were born in. My grandfather had a nasty temper, and beat my father, his brothers and my grandmother mercilessly. He was a mean drunk, and he was always drunk, so he was always mean. Only after he died, did my father decide to leave. His mother was finally safe from his father, and my dad could leave for the states with a clear conscience. Dad couldn’t bear the thought of Lachlan and me living the same life he had. There are no options in a town like that, and we had potential.
My dad was never one to spare the rod, but he wasn’t brutal about it. We were properly punished, at least in his mind, for our transgressions. Usually it was Lachlan taking the beating for something I had done. Dad would never dare hit our mother. He treats her like she’s made of glass.
Even though I respect and appreciate it, I’ve never been able to see myself with one woman like that. My sex drive would never allow it. I had sex for the first time at fifteen with a nineteen-year-old waitress, and I haven’t slowed down since. Lach, on the other hand, is just like Dad. He started dating Lauren his freshman year of college, and they’re still together. He proposed to her last Christmas. My parents love her, and are excited about the wedding. She’s hooked me up with her friends, even though Lachlan warned her not to, and it hasn’t turned out well. Their wedding may be one of my biggest nightmares, all those girls in the same room gunning for me.
Her roommate at Illinois was a particular disaster. Lauren is pretty but plain, perfect for mild-mannered Lachlan, but her roommate was incredibly hot. She must have developed late, because she didn’t know she was gorgeous. I’m sure she was getting attention, but her self-esteem level had already been planted.
After much pleading on Lauren’s part, I finally agreed to a double date. Her name was Sara, and even though she was pretty, she had zero personality. We all went out for pizza, and she could barely speak. She must have been nervous; she was shredding her napkin under the table throughout the meal. I didn’t really care, she was wearing a skin-tight tank top so I was preoccupied by her tits, not her conversation. Lauren made a lame excuse about needing to study, so she and Lachlan left the two of us alone.
“I’m sorry about Lauren, she’s been trying to get me to date for a long time,” she said, finally speaking in a soft, bird-like voice.
“It’s no problem, I can drive you back.”
“She and Lachlan probably want some alone time. Do you want to go anywhere? Maybe take a drive around?” she asked, having perked up quite a bit.
“Uh, sure. Let’s go,” I knew what she was asking for.
I knew that she knew my reputation, and she wanted me. I called up one of my buddies who had his own place, for assistance with Code Green. That was one of our code phrases for having a girl who was ready to go, but needing a place to do it. He bailed for me, and left the key under the mat. I should’ve paid half his rent, I used his place that much.
Sara found her voice and wouldn’t stop talking all the way there. I didn’t make any pretense, I simply asked her if she wanted to go mess around at my friend’s place. She jumped in the car as fast as she could. I’ll admit I was flattered; she was really excited. I should have guessed why; she was a virgin.
When we got to the apartment, she asked for some alcohol.
“I think it will help me, I’m a little nervous,” she said. Her hands were shaking so hard her bracelets were making music.
“I’m sure I can find you something. You don’t need to be scared, I know what I’m doing,” I said, rubbing her shoulders trying to get her to relax.
Virgins who can’t relax can have an unpleasant first time, and I wanted it to be good. Hell, my reputation was on the line.
I found some cheap, heavy-duty tequila, and poured us a couple of shots. She choked and sputtered through the first one. By the fourth, she was downing it like an Irishman.
“Wickham, you’re so good looking, but you know that don’t you? I’ve heard my friends talk about how good you are in bed, and I really want you to be my first. Let’s go fuck,” her lipstick-smeared lips slurred.
I took her by the hand and led her to a back room with a bare futon and wine crates on the floor. She tried to seduce me in her innocent way, by removing her clothes slowly in front of me. It was like watching a kindergartener fumble with a zipper. I was more than ready to get the show on the road, so I offered some assistance. She had one of the best bodies I had ever seen: huge tits, a nice flat belly, and a firm ass. My cock started to pulse anticipating how tight her pussy would be.
The tequila had already kicked in, helping her relax and become aroused. I reached down between her thighs, and her panties were warm and damp. Thank you, alcohol, for making my job so much easier. I laid her back on the hard folded cushion, and slipped on the condom.
“You don’t have to use that, I’m clean. For my first time I want to feel what a real cock feels like inside me. I just had my period so I can’t get pregnant,” she said as she yanked at the condom I was still trying to put on.
What the fuck, why not?
I bent down and put my head between her thighs. I wanted to warm her up even more. I spread open her lips with my fingers, and I explored her beautiful, untouched pussy with my tongue. She was already wet, and I was making her even more pliable. I licked up and down the length of her slit up to her clit, firmly, then softly, teasing her wet opening. I sucked on her clitoris until she was close to orgasm. Once I thought her pussy was ready for me, I positioned myself over her. Teasing her hole with the head of my cock, I slipped just the tip inside. She clenched and it closed.
“Come on, baby, just relax. You know how good it’s going to feel. Give me that sweet pussy,” I whispered warmly in her ear, trying my best to open the lock.
It worked.
She melted under me, and her lips spread open. I pushed my cock inside, forcefully at first, and kept it there. She moaned and whimpered in a mixture of bliss and discomfort. I continued to lie still as her pussy clenched and tightened on my shaft, resisting the intrusion. When I felt her body relax slightly, I pulled out and started over again. Her beautiful legs wrapped around me and she began to move along with me. We grinded against each other slowly, and then the tempo began to rise with each thrust. She caught up to my speed until we were fucking for real.
She got the hang of it, and then some. I suckled her soft breasts as they jiggled in rhythm with my cock pushing into her sweet body. I always thought that a woman having an orgasm while losing her virginity was an urban legend, but she began to shake. Her pussy was so tight I could feel her walls start to quiver around me. I knew how to push her over the edge. I clamped down on one nipple with my teeth, and flicked my tongue forcefully over the soft pink flesh. That did it.
She let out a strangled moan, and rubbed her clit again
st my body as fast and hard as she could. I could feel her contract and release her pussy again and again through an intense orgasm. She clawed at my back, trying her best to prolong the sensation, until her body relaxed beneath me. I pumped two more times into her, and released cum into her once pristine pussy.
I’m not one to lie and bask in the post-coital glow. Once I’m done, I’m ready to move on. Leave or go to sleep. I don’t need to snuggle and I definitely don’t need to talk. I did have to drive her back, though, so I dismounted and looked around for my clothes. She seemed to have other plans.
“What are you doing? Do we have to leave just yet?”
“Well, I figured we should get going so my buddy can come back home. Besides, it’s getting late, I should get you back before Lauren has my head,” I said, as unemotional as I felt at that moment.
That’s when I heard the sniffling. I looked over at her, and her head was in her hands, and her shoulders were shuddering.
“That’s it? No hugging, no kissing? Wickham, please come back to me, and love me again. I love you!”
She started to have a full hissy fit. She was crying and yelping at me, “I love you, Wick, I love you!”, and working herself into a frenzy. I had no idea what to say. I don’t think I’d ever been that scared of anyone, including my dad, in my life.
She pulled herself up onto her knees and was pawing at my chest.
“Please, Wick, say you love me! I need you to say it! You took my love, now give it to me!”
Holy fuck.
Even for me, what I did next was shameful. I grabbed my keys and hauled ass out of there. I sent my friend a quick text: Hey, man, I may have left something at your place.
When I got back to our place, Lachlan was home already.
“How’d it go with Sara? She seems like a nice girl,” he said, focusing hard on the game on TV. I didn’t say anything, and he looked up at me. “What the fuck did you do now, Wick?”
Needless to say, Lauren was more than a little upset with me after that. I just pray that she won’t invite Sara to the wedding. Even after my shameful behavior, she hounded me for months. I did my best to apologize to her through Lauren, but I disappeared if I saw her around.
* * *
Lauren and Lach’s wedding is coming up. They’re doing it before Lach leaves for spring training. The season was hard on their relationship last year. Lauren was trying to adjust to changing schools, a job and never seeing Lachlan, although I think it was more difficult for him. He struggled between doing what he loved, and not spending time with Lauren. Lach is a relationship person. He needs people in his life at all times. Baseball is perfect for him in a way, because he’s constantly surrounded by like-minded guys. Not a lot of downtime alone.
He and I couldn’t be more different in that way. I struggle with living in the firehouse with so many guys. I enjoy time to be with my own thoughts, and I can’t even take a shit on my own there. I love my job, though, and the guys are great, but I could also live on a deserted island and be just fine. As long as an occasional ship full of swimsuit models that has lost its way occasionally stops by, I’d be happy.
I’ve been planning Lach’s bachelor party, and we’re having it at the station the weekend before the wedding. We needed someplace big enough to hold all the guys that want to be there. Lach’s teammates and the firehouse guys already account for close to fifty guests. That doesn’t include the guys my dad wants to invite, and our high-school buddies. Lach doesn’t want anything X-rated; he begged me to keep it clean and simple: friends, good barbecue, beer and sports on a big screen.
Lauren is having her bachelorette party this weekend. She mentioned that she wanted time to recover and not look hung-over at the wedding. I never thought she was that much of a partyer, but then again, I don’t really know her that well. She did her best to avoid me when we were all at school together. Whenever I’m around, she typically clams up. I always thought she was shy, but Lach said she only acts that way around me. I guess the stories about me make her feel uncomfortable. I want to tell her to shove it up her ass, but I love my brother, so I keep quiet.
Lachlan is worried about her, and that she’ll drink too much. He’s headed to Champaign tonight to see some friends who won’t be coming to the wedding. Once spring training begins he won’t have time to breathe, let alone chill with college buddies. He asked me to shadow her and her friends, just to make sure they stay safe. A friend at the station, Joe, and I get their proposed itinerary from Lach and plan our evening.
“Any of these gals single?” Joe asks with interest.
“I’m sure, but we’re not hanging with them. Our detail is to show up wherever they are and stay in the background,” I let a disappointed Joe know so he doesn’t get his hopes up.
Lach doesn’t want her to think he’s having her watched, but I know he worries about her. After dinner, they’re starting the festivities at Drop, an underground club near Lincoln Park that stays open until four. It’s a cozy place, so being inconspicuous will be difficult.
Joe and I head there around 11:30 pm. We have to make sure there’s a crowd so we can sneak in unseen. There’s a small line beginning to form outside, which is a good thing. That means it’s at capacity inside. After waiting about twenty minutes, we get in. It’s cold out tonight, and some of the girls wearing little clothing bailed on the line. I can feel the vibrations from the music pumping through my body; it’s extremely loud in here. It’s dark, too, so we don’t really have to cloak-and-dagger much. We go to the bar and grab a couple of weird shots, whatever the special is, and some beers.
Lauren and her friends are surrounding a small table, and it looks like they have bottle service. She’s wearing a bridal veil that’s already torn and hanging on to her hair for dear life. I’ve never seen her like this before, and I wonder if Lach has. There must be a reason for him to be worried; he’s not the jealous overprotective type normally. She’s wearing a very short dress with very high heels. I’m impressed at how women can walk in those things when they’re drunk. Her heavy makeup is already smeared, and the night is young. I’m not thrilled to be playing babysitter to her and her friends, but I owe Lach. He’d do the same for me in a heartbeat. Plus, I’m the best man. Isn’t something like this one of the official duties?
Joe and I pull off our best wallpaper impression, and cling to the wall near the bathroom. Joe’s a handsome guy, and quite a few women have come up to talk to us. I’m doing my best to keep my post, but Joe decides he’s ready to say “screw it” for the night, and he starts dancing with a lovely brunette. Lauren and her friends have morphed into a gaggle of loud, irritating drunks. I could end up being here all night, and by the looks of Joe and his new best friend, I’ll be doing it alone.
To ease the boredom, I plop down in one of the trendy stuffed chairs, and drink. A lot. There’s always a line of cabs outside, so I don’t have to worry about getting home. I would have left with one of these hot women, and been balls-deep into her by now, if this was my usual night out. It’s a nice change, though, sitting back at a distance, watching scantily clad women dance in front of me, asses eye level. Makes for a really good boner. Before I leave for the night, I’ll choose one to take with me.
Two of Lauren’s friends are headed my way toward the bathroom. Shit! I recognize one. I fucked her at college after a sorority mixer. She broke up with her boyfriend after our hookup, and she blamed it on me. The only reason I remember her so well, is because I took a class with her the following semester, and she glared at me for four months. I really don’t understand women. They make their own decisions, I’ve never coerced anyone, yet I end up being the bad guy. I’ve never promised a relationship, or even a date afterward. Half of these girls want a ring after one orgasm, but that’s not my problem, that’s on them.
As hard as I’m trying to hide my face behind my beer bottle, she spots me, levels her gaze and turns on her heels sharply in my direction. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Well, well, well, i
f it isn’t Mr. Scottish Asshole,” she says through a drunken slur, “what the fuck are you doing here?”
She’s staring right at me, hand on her hip, and wobbling like one of those car-lot inflatable air-dancers.
“You know, just chillin’,” I don’t owe her anything, so I refuse to take a role in her little poor-me, one-act play.
“I thought Lachlan was out of town. Are you two spying on us?” she asks with the hope that she’d be interesting enough for us to care.
“Nope. Just hangin’ with me buddy Joe. He left, though. Found him some good lookin’ ass to take home.”
“All you need to do is look in the mirror for some good-looking asshole!”
I know she’s trying to insult me, but it comes out more like a compliment. I can’t help but let out a laugh. She’s frustrated and turns to walk away. She grabs the arm of the other girl to steady herself so she doesn’t tumble in her sky-high shoes.
I know she’s going to go and tell Lauren, so I guess the jig is up. I flag down the cocktail waitress to settle my tab so I can head home. Fortunately, I have nothing to share with Lach. They got blitzed and danced, but stayed safe for the evening. I get my gold star for a job well done.
As I stand to leave, I feel a small hand grasp my wrist firmly. My head spins as I rise, I didn’t pay attention to how drunk I was getting
“C’mere you!” It’s a very drunk Lauren. “What the hell, Wick? Why are you here? Did Lach send you to check up on me?”
She’s trying her best to yell over the loud music, but I can barely make out what she’s saying. Her veil is long gone, as are the shoes she was wearing. She’s holding a drink of some variety in her hand, but it splashes all over as she talks. She pulls me over into the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It’s not much quieter, but the music is slightly muffled. She looks pissed, and doesn’t look anything close to the same person I know: Different hair, makeup, clothes and personality. No wonder Lach was concerned.
