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Dennis' Summer (Part 3)

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  • Dennis' Summer (Part 3)

    The next evening, in a loft apartment somewhere, rave music plays. Lines of coke on a mirror somewhere. Girls in black tops and cutoff shorts dance. Guys in polo t-shirts or Ed Hardy wear dance, sometimes with the girls, sometimes not. Everybody is stoned. A strobe light projecting from the corner.

    Adria Carris, 28 years old, smokes a Pal Mall and worries about her daughter. Camilla is at home right now, with Adria’s friend Millie. Is she giving Camilla the vitamin supplement like she asked? Will she put her to bed on time?

    Adria is concerned about her daughter and about Millie’s capabilities as a babysitter; they were so close in high school, now Millie’s gotten so condescending, seems to disapprove of the fact that Adria lives in a trailer and works at the grocery store, disapproves of all her life choices. Adria thinks that projection is the general behavior of all people. People project their own insecurities on to other people. Will Millie project her’s on to someone completely innocent like Camilla?

    But in another minute, after a few more drags, this isn’t what Adria’s thinking about anymore. She’s thinking about getting some pills. Her heartbeat is faster; she feels jittery in her legs. She needs it.

    And out of the crowd in the back of the loft, chatting with some pretty black-haired girl whom he kisses on the forehead, drinking a beer and moving through a strobe light like he owns the place, is her dealer, Dennis.

    Dennis tells her that he’s twenty-five. He’s a young-looking twenty-five year old. But not too much younger, she thinks. And that’s part of his appeal. They met a few weeks ago at rave. Dennis first sold to her there, and tried to get in her pants, too. She rebuffed him that time. But the second time he was different. Cleaner shaven, better dressed. Unlike almost any other man, he seemed to really listen to her. When she mentioned cutting off contact with her parents, Dennis looked down for a while before saying that he’d had to do the same.

    Needless to say, they’d had sex that night. Adria had vowed never again. You don’t fuck your dealer. But the next time she saw him he had upped his price and refused to give her a discount unless she fucked him. A tight spot there. She acquiesced. The next time it was the same thing, and the time after that. The last time she had told him that she was finding a new dealer and she wasn’t having sex with him anymore. Dennis shrugged and sold to her at the old price. Then he called her later that night and they met up at a diner, then a hotel where they…had sex again. That time they didn’t use a condom. Dennis said he’d had a vasectomy.
    He’d told her that he thought of her as more than a customer; that she was beautiful and intelligent.
    And also, fucking him had been a lot of fun.
    So now, as Adria watched him walk towards her, doing the thing where he pretended not to notice her, she closed her eyes and thought to herself,

    Adria, don’t this time, please don’t, no matter how much you want it, don’t have sex with him, keep screwing that other guy from Tinder, not this dirt bag.

    “Wake up,” she hears him say. She opens her eyes.
    Dennis stands above her.
    “Hi, there,” he says.
    “Hi Dennis,” said Adria. She feels her heartbeat accelerate.
    “You look bored as a rock,” he says.
    She shrugs. He takes her cigarette from her and takes a drag. He does a slow exhale that makes her smile.
    “Are you on Tinder?” He asks.
    “Why do you think I’m on Tinder?”
    “Because I swear I saw your profile when I was swiping left on some chicks.”
    “A girl has needs,” says Adria, looking up at him.
    A long pause. Party noises. Dennis kneels and kisses her on her lips. A long, steady kiss. He pulls away and brushes a lock of hair from her eyes.

    “I’ve missed you tons this week, Adria.”
    “I missed you, too,” Adria hears herself say. And she realizes she meant it.
    They look into each other’s eyes for some moments. As if by magic, Dennis produces a bottle of pills and shakes them in her face.
    In the next moment he’s standing and taking her hand in his.
    “Come on,” he says. “Let’s catch up.”

    *

    Later that night, at the party. When people exit the restroom, they pass the door to the master bedroom, the bedroom used for hookups. In this case, they know not to go in there. This is because mattress squeaks and shrill female sounds are audible. Two guys pass by. One mutters to the other,

    "It's that crazy kid who always comes here."

    His friend shakes his head.

    "Jesus Christ. He'll die or have a kid before his mid-20s...or both."

    They move on.

    Do you, reader, want to peek inside the room? Of course you do.

    On a large king sized mattress, Adria bounces up and down. She's riding Dennis' cock. They are lit by just a shitty, flickering lamp. As he works her waist with his hands and stares into her blue eyes, he thinks of all the lies he’s told Adria and that she’s swallowed, just like his cum. The lie that he’s twenty-five, the lie that he’s had a vasectomy, that he likes being around her, that he thinks she's a noble, brave person...

    Adria, clearly oblivious right now to all that is true and false, goes,

    "ah ah ah yeah ah ah ah FUCK ah ah AH FUCK AH AH AH-"

    Her hair is red. She has a nose-ring. A tattoo on one arm and another on her stomach. Her tits flopping in front of his face, back and forth. Her mouth open in what could be mistaken for an expression of someone watching T.V slackjawed…except she’s watching him, open-mouthed.

    And that’s one falsetto-ass pitch she’s got. Girls his age don’t sound like that. Girls his age don’t have pussies this wet, either…


    Damn, older chicks are fun...

    He runs a hand up her chest and dips his fingers in her mouth. She bites them. He does an Elvis-Presley with his pelvis; grinding it like the way he grinded, his cock thrusting into her faster.

    His cock is tingling. Just so he can forestall his own orgasm, he looks away from her face to her bouncing breasts. She's got trashy, soccer mom tits. They bounce and flop in alternating rhythms. He then thinks,

    How many pills have I got left now? Like ten? Twelve?

    Above his stomach, he dips a finger inside her, flicking it around her clit.

    Adria responds to this new development with,

    "HhHHHH-AAAHHHH HHH-AHAHAHAHA-"

    And a shifting, hemming and hawing mattress as Dennis bounces up and down, deep into her and deep out.

    We can see her slickness getting all over his bare shaft. We can see her thighs bucking around his waist. We can see Dennis looks up at her face again. As he holds on to her shoulder and looks in to Adria's green, already regretful eyes, do you know what Adria’s secretly teenaged-lover thinks?
    He thinks,

    I’m gonna cum inside her and get this chick pregnant.
    Goal number 1: knock up a milf.
    Then say the kid isnt yours
    she obviously fucks other guys too

    That sloppy wet mucking feel better mean she gets prego.

    Adria goes,
    “SHIT!”
    And squeezes her breasts together as her hands, close together, scratch Dennis’ chest.
    Dennis nuts inside her. He shuts his eyes.
    There’s the shit eating grin again.


    (End of Part 3)

  • #2
    The portion where he's thinking of getting the chick prego is what usually what men thinks of when they glaze at a beautiful teenage body which is hard to resist.

    Comment


    • tom8854
      tom8854 commented
      Editing a comment
      Except Adria is not a teenager. She's a 28 year old mother, ten years Dennis' senior.

    • wittyou
      wittyou commented
      Editing a comment
      She might have just tried speed reading your post that's why she didn't noticed that detail tom8854

  • #3
    A very interesting story! I enjoyed reading it since I would not be doing anything because of the situation in the world.

    Comment


    • clssc
      clssc commented
      Editing a comment
      I'm guessing that this counted as your required reading since it sounds like you're stuck at home?
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