Chapter #63The Hungry Ones by: Seuzz   You dress for school much as you dressed after church yesterday, except in flannel plaid pajama bottoms instead of jeans, and a white t-shirt under the camo jacket. You spent a lot of time brushing and fluffing your long, thick hair before wedging it back under your usual backward-turned ball cap. Wow, you think as you admire the effect in the bathroom mirror. You'd have to be a hundred-and-ten-percent gay, you tell yourself, not to instantly cream yourself if you saw me coming. In fact, you're turning yourself on so hard that you have grind your pussy against the sharp corner of the vanity just to tame the boiling itch you've given yourself.
And you do get a lot of hard looks from the guys as you stumble up the aisle of the school bus. (Marcos always drives Cristina to and from school, never you or Trina.) But no one says anything, because you always plop down next to Luis Castillo for the ride to school. To them, you probably look like a kitten curling up next to a bulldog in a spiked collar.
Not that Luis is the type to wear a spiked collar. It's not even really his personality. But he's a big guy, more than six feet tall, and hefty. Fat, if you want to get down to it, but it's the fat of a big, strong bull with a too-healthy appetite. Luis isn't a fighter, and he might not be able to break anyone on the bus who challenged him. But he'd hurt them enough that they'd never want to be hurt by him again.
But Luis himself is a sunny, happy sort of guy. His eyes and jowls roll up into a huge smile when he sees you tottering toward him, and he beams as you collapse onto the bench next to him. He throws a protective arm over the back of the bench, without touching you. "Morning, bedhead," he chortles. "You just get up?"
"It feels like it." You dig at an eye with a knuckle. "I got up, like, five minutes ago. I thought I was gonna miss the bus." In fact, you've been up more than an hour, showering, dressing, fixing your hair, and carefully putting on just enough makeup to make you look good without looking like you're wearing any makeup.
"Jeez, I wish I looked as sexy when I wake up five minutes before school." He leers at you, but it's not creepy or mean, just friendly. While Robert and some others cooled on Alana after she dropped him for Marcos, Luis stayed friendly—probably because he and Marcos, though they've drifted apart, were friends in middle school.
"Thanks. I just wish school started at noon." You yawn, and it's for real, because you were up early. "Or two o'clock."
You and Luis compare notes on the day to come—you share a second-period math class—but part as soon as you dismount the bus, for he heads to the music wing for band practice while you head to your locker to change out books. You linger there until the bell rings, in case Marcos drops by, but he doesn't, and you have to rush to first-period Physics.
* * * * *
Your classes and Marcos's don't have a chance of intersecting until after lunch (which, again, he always takes with Cristina, and you and Trina have to keep your distance), and it's not until the break between fifth and sixth periods that you feel a hand on your shoulder, and turn to find Marcos grinning into your face. Instantly, your heart leaps for joy.
He is lean and sharp-featured, so that when he concentrates on someone it's like he's boring into them with lasers. He's giving you that laser-like focus now, and it nearly melts you as he stoops a little to put his mouth close to yours.
"Last night was amazing," he murmurs.
"I was so scared I was going to wake my grandpa," you whisper back.
"So, let's do it for real after school." He caresses the side of your throat; his hand is warm and strong. "Before he comes home."
"Oh, I want that so bad," you whisper. "I want you so bad."
A gleam of lust ripples over his eyes, and he rolls the toothpick he's sucking from one side of his mouth to the other.
That's when you notice that he's got a toothpick in his mouth. "Where'd you get that?" you ask.
"Get what?" He cradles the side of your head and gazes deep into your eyes.
"The toothpick."
"What? Oh, that!" He grins again. "Off'a Kirkham. I called him this morning and set up a little scene for us to do at his locker. You didn't hear about it?" You shake your head. "Yeah. I got in his face, made a big scene in front of everyone around, calling him a fucking pendejo, making him back down, made him give me summa his toothpicks. You know." He cups the side of your stomach with one hand, and rests the other hand on your ass. "Make him fucking apologize for the way he talked to you last week."
It comes back to you, the memory of David Kirkham, pushing in close and chewing a toothpick in your face, and muttering how fine you look, and how he'd like to take you out someplace off school property some time and show you a good time. You giggle. "He was awful."
"He's a real motherfucker, that's for sure." As Kirkham did, Marcos now leans in so close you can feel his warm breath curling from his nostrils over your face. "I'm so glad you told me what he said to you," he whispers. "'Cos we wouldn't be here, talking like this now, if you didn't—" He swallows hard, and his eyes start to water.
"I'm glad too," you whisper back, and breathe onto his face. He closes his eyes and trembles. "I'm so glad you went and took care of him. Because you love me. You do love me, don't you?"
"Yes." He swallows again, thickly. "I— You—"
"Because I love you. So much. For so much. And not just—" You surreptitiously touch one of your breasts. "'Cos you got this body for me. And this body"—you touch his chest—"to go with it. They're so perfect for each other. And for us."
Marcos sucks in a ragged breath, and pulls away.
"Yeah, okay," he says in a hoarse voice. "But I gotta stop this, or I'm gonna—"
You giggle again, and go up on tiptoes.
"First, though," you say, then put your mouth to his. But it's not only a kiss you draw from him. You bite onto the toothpick, and have it clamped inside your grin when you drop back down onto your heels.
"Thanks," you gurgle at him. "I'm gonna keep this. So I can give it to the next person we—" You wink at him.
* * * * *
There's not much to Alana's school days, and you pass through the rest of your classes hardly noticing them. You do have to take the bus while Marcos drives Cristina home, but he gets away quick and is rapping impatiently at your front door by four-thirty. That still doesn't leave you a lot of time before your grandpa gets home, so you're peeling of each other's clothes before you're over the bedroom threshold, and then you're on your back, bouncing on a groaning set of bedsprings as Marcos, naked and burning to the touch, mounts you. You are starving for each other, for the touch and heft of the bodies you have stolen, and for the actual scrape of skin against skin, and not just the memories of it. You almost cum the moment Marcos slides into you, and don't bother to stifle your gasps and cries as he thrusts feverishly inside you. Then he erupts and you bloom, and he is flooding you from the tips of your toes and fingers to the crown of your head with his essence, and you are gulping him down like you're half-mad with starvation. The bedsprings scream beneath you.
Afterward, when you are still tangled in each other's limbs, and are kissing and raking each other's hair out, Sydney mutters, "God, I don't think Marcos ever had one that good."
"Alana neither," you agree. You kiss and nuzzle and bite each other's mouths. "It was the most incredible thing."
"Mmm. You make me wanna feel it."
"Feel what?" You suck at his mouth. "I thought you said you did. Better than"—kiss—"Marcos ever felt it."
"I mean, the girl's side of it. You know I told you, Will, that I don't"—kiss—"do it myself."
"You're missing out. Except"—kiss—"it felt like you really"—kiss—"let me rock Marcos's world."
"But I wanna rock yours, Will. And I want you— Nnggh!" He arches his back, and you feel the snake waken and stretch and throb. "I want to feel you doing that to me."
"Except we can't switch masks. Didn't we put—?"
"Yeah, but I mean I want our next masks— I want you to be the guy, Will. And I want to be the girl who is"—kiss—"madly"—kiss—"stupidly"—kiss—"off-h er-meds"—kiss—"into her guy."
Mmm. Put that way, it does sound awesome. "Like who? Got any ideas?"
"Well, I was thinking about Garner. You know he's got that girlfriend—"
"The girl who plays soccer?"
"Yeah, and she sounds like a real tiger. And Garner'd be perfect for us. Best friend with Marcos and all. We could double-date."
"Except Marcos doesn't take Alana out on dates. They just hang out here." You clench yourself around him, and push your face into the crook of his neck, to inhale his musk.
"Well, that's a point," Sydney gasps. "But that's a problem with anyone. We'd have to do something about La Doña, at least."
Yes you could, by making her and Trina your next pair. Or your pair after Garner and his girl. Or after ... Felix and Janelle?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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