The biggest lessons can be the most painful . . . at first.
NB: This story is for ADULT amusement only. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature.
The Cruise just began…..
Enjoy.
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“What?! Come on Coach . . . you can’t put me with Nerd-a-bee! He’s like the worst kid in school!”
Darien Jacobs was a natural athlete, not to mention somewhat of a cocky prick. Believe me, I knew the type . . . I was the same way at his age. Darien and his pal Tim Simmons were the two kids in their Freshman Class most likely to become star varsity players, once their pimples popped and their bodies grew; there was no doubt about that, to me or to them.
The fact I was pairing each of them with the two boys in class most likely to excel at the trombone, or to win at chess, was my go-to move with the freshmen. The bellyaching was expected; and welcome in a way. Barnaby Barnes and Kyle Langley would put up just as much of a fight about this as the jocks, but not in front of the whole class like this.
“Barny’s your partner, and that’s final,” I said, my military voice coming out deep and echoing across the field. “You better find a way to make it work Jacobs.” I rarely flexed my intimidation these days, but every so often these kids needed to see the kind of strength and power that was standing in front of them, trying to help them.
And sure enough, the inevitable conversation with Barnaby Barnes took place behind closed doors later that day. I had to assure him the arrangement was in his best interest.
“But Coach,” he argued, “Darien hates me. He’s always harassing me and makes my life at school miserable!”
“Well Barnes, that’s all about to change. Just trust me and try your hardest to listen to him when he starts giving advice. If he gets to be too much, just cross your arms and stop. If you don’t both succeed as a team, he’ll fail. Of course you’ll fail too, but he’s the one with the vested interest. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
It wouldn’t be fine, at first, and there would be flaring emotions and maybe even a fight or two, but in the long run it would be the right move. I wished something like that would have happened to me back in the day. Maybe things in my own life would have turned out differently.
Instead, I had to learn some heart-wrenching lessons the hard way. Lessons so deep they are impossible to forget, and difficult to think back on. My own personal schooling would end up altering my entire being, and like so many of these fateful stories, it all began with a phone call . . .
***
The call came from the mother of my best friend Dan, letting me know he’d passed away from a drug overdose, less than unexpectedly.
Dan and I had grown up together as friends, teammates, roommates and soldiers. We excelled at everything together. Football, baseball, rugby, armed service and of course partying. We were a two-man team, sprinting through life at top speed, until Dan hit a wall of his own limitations.
He didn’t make it to the end of a Special Ops training exercise. Actually, that was an understatement. He literally cracked under the pressure, his bones and his soul. He gave up completely and accepted an honorable discharge after breaking both his ankles from a long fall. I tried to get him to push through rehab and retake the test, but his confidence was just as shattered as his bones.
He wound up addicted to pain killers after heading home, and when I was finally able to take leave, he could hardly even look at me he was so ashamed of how far he’d fallen. I vowed to help him as much as I could, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Once I got out of active duty life moved quickly, and then one day I turned around and he was gone.
The news crashed down around me, and the world suddenly looked different. It was a perspective shift, and for the first time in my life I wondered what the hell I was really about. I mean I was still the same bull-headed aggressive competitor I’d always been, but I started questioning everything around me. My first reaction was to drink away these questions instead of giving them much conscious thought.
My week went from bad to worse when I woke up in the middle of the night with no vision and a blistering headache.
I remembered going out that night with some guys to a club downtown. The music was cranked, and I had gotten more than a little loaded on Vodka shots and beers. The place was wild and thumping, lights were flashing, and girls were everywhere.
I remembered one particular chick; very hot, short pink hair; kinda small but she was all over me. She kept drinking from my drinks and rubbing her little body against mine. I hadn’t been too interested because the night was young and the place was overflowing with pussy, but she was persistent.
She had firm perky tits, and I seemed to recall having felt them up for a while and . . . did we end up in the bathroom? I seem to remember her pulling them out for me. Most of the night was a blur, and then somehow I ended up at home.
Now that my mind was coming back, I realized my arms were so stiff I couldn’t move. I slowly tried to roll over, but I was stuck. My eyes wouldn’t open either. Panic.
I quickly realized I’d been tied up, and tight! My arms, which are large and strong, wouldn’t even budge. It didn’t feel like ropes, more like long gripping sleeves restraining my movement. My eyes were covered, and as I tried to make sense of things I quickly realized I was also naked; in my own bed with a sheet up to my waist, but completely naked.
This wasn’t my first rodeo with kinky chicks, that’s for sure, so I tried to play it cool, as if I was totally on board. I was in a sitting position, with my arms behind me, and reclined against a pillow, but I couldn’t roll or sit up.
“Hey, um, anyone there?” I called out softly, thinking back to how many times I had woken up naked with no clue of the name of my bedmate. It never got easier.
It was quiet, but I heard some sounds from out in the rest of the apartment. Movement anyway. I tried again, and this time I used a lower, more commanding tone. “Hello . . .”
The movement stopped, and I heard footsteps. Soon the door to my room opened almost silently and I heard soft breathing.
“Are you just going to leave me here like this?” I asked, sure this was some kind of game. The person approached, and I sensed them next to the bed. Then she spoke.
“So,” came her voice in a condescending tone, “you’re the one and only Jerek huh? You don’t seem so tough to me, not anymore anyway.” I felt her run a hand from my shoulder to my abdomen, my skin sensing every touch along the way.
I had no idea who she was by her voice, and her tone seemed to imply that I shouldn’t have.
“Wait, who are you?” I asked, starting to get impatient.
“Don’t you remember Jerek?” she replied immediately, with a tone of disdain. “You had your hands all over me last night.”
“The girl with the pink hair, um, Amber . . . Alex . . . uh . . . ”
“April; not that I was expecting you to fucking remember, and don’t worry, it’s not even a real name.”
“What the hell April . . . or whatever your name is,” I managed with an increasing sense of frustration building in me, “what’s the game here?”
“The game,” she growled at me, “is that you are going to lie there like a pathetic piece of shit . . .”
“Watch your mouth!” I barked in warning.