Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two

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PREPPY I was beyond restless.
I’d decided that the reason I couldn’t sleep was because the mattress was too soft. I slid down to the floor, but I couldn’t turn off my mind. I only fell asleep for a short time on the tower with Dre, but it was the deepest sleep I’d gotten besides being in a fucking coma. When I woke up I spent a long time smelling her hair like the creep I was before deciding that the big black cock needed to make a comeback.
I was happy for her. For getting clean. For going to school. For wanting to help out her dad. No, I wasn’t happy, that wasn’t the right word.
I was PROUD.
But pride couldn’t stop the selfish thought that nagged at the back of my brain that missed when Dre was a junkie and a mess so that I could somehow come to her rescue again. There were two problems with that thought.
One, she didn’t need to be saved.
Two, I was in no fucking shape to be anyone’s knight.
Fuck, she was so beautiful.
Dre didn’t need a stitch of makeup. Her long lashes and plump pink lips made her a flawless natural beauty. The new glasses were like a nerdy bonus that brought more attention to her big dark eyes.
I wondered if she still wore the fifties style clothes, the heels, and my fucking favorite...the red lips.
I rolled onto my back and slid my hand down into my pants as I thought about those lips. I remembered what they felt like against mine. I regret never having had the chance to see them wrapped around my dick. I remember what her pussy tasted like more than I remembered what coffee tasted like. The noises she made when she was about to come assaulted my memory. That memory gave way to our first time. The way she fought back against me but loved every fucking second of it when I fucked her by the train tracks. It was then I realized she was almost as sick as I was. That moment of my life was better than any porn reel and over the years it had been my number one mental image to jerk off to. Yet after a few minutes my dick was still flaccid.
Not a twinge. Not a fucking spark.
I tugged on my balls and rubbed the sensitive strip of skin underneath them. I then brought my hand to my shaft and ran my palm over it, willing it back to life. I took a deep breath and thought about the way Dre’s tits bounced in my hand when I fucked her from behind. The way she moaned and tensed her thigh muscles when she was about to come.
Not a motherfucking thing.
I might have been alive, but my cock was still fucking dead.
I released my useless dick and let my head fall back against the carpet releasing a growl of frustration. It may not have gotten hard but I needed to come, to release. It was the only way I knew how to rid myself of the lingering bullshit in my brain and try to clear some space for all the other shit floating around up there.
You’re still healing, asshole. Get a fucking grip. I told myself.
When the sun was high in the sky and I could feel the heat of its rays through the closed window I finally gave up on both sleep, and a hard cock.
I made my way out into the living room.
The second I took that last step down I was assaulted by light. I shielded my eyes with my forearms from the onslaught coming through the front window. Using my palm to fight against the blinding rays, I shuffled over to the wall and reached out for the metal string so I could close the blinds, but it wasn’t there. Peeking through the slits in my eyes I realized the long off white plastic blinds that used to clank together when the air conditioning kicked on were no longer there. In their place was a more modern wooden shutter. I found the crank and turned it, sighing in relief when I again found myself in the comforts of the dark. I blinked rapidly to get rid of the stars still dancing behind my eyes.
I thought I was alone until I spun around to find Doe looking up at me from the kitchen. She gasped, covering her hand with her mouth as she looked me up and down, taking in my shaved head and hair free face for the first time. When she realized she was staring she averted her gaze down to the messenger bag she was organizing on the counter and cleared her throat. “ the clothes I brought you not fit?” She zipped up the bag and lifted her eyes to me, doing a better job of hiding her shock at my appearance, only her dilating pupils gave her true feelings away.
“I’m good,” I said, glancing down at my t-shirt and sweats. “I don’t need much. When did you guys remodel?” I asked taking in the new wood floors and fresh paint. Even the cabinets were the same but had been sanded and painted a bright white. “Looks like adults live here now,” I said.
“Which is funny because it’s overrun by kids,” Doe said with a smile. She pushed up the strap of her tank top that kept falling off her shoulder.
“Preppy, if you don’t like the color of the shirt or bow ties I can get you different colors, or you can come with me to pick out your own. There’s this new store called GENTS across the causeway with an entire wall of bowties, but it’s only open during the season so we’ll have to wait to go there when it’s open again in November. We might have to fight off some tourists for best pick of the new stuff they put out, but it could be fun.”
I shrugged. “Jeans would be good.”
“Remember when you bought me that dress for our ‘date?’” she asked, using air quotes when she said the word ‘date.’ “It fit perfectly and you didn’t even know my size. Shit, I didn’t even know my size. The skirt I was wearing was from the hooker ready section of goodwill and whatever hooker wore it before me had an ass that went on for days.” Doe lamented with a laugh. “That was a long time ago,” she added.
“To me that was yesterday,” I said.
The smile slowly fell from her face and she changed the subject. “Did you make a list of things you needed?” I loved that girl like a sister but the way she looked at me like I was a sad puppy dog with a broken leg was starting to piss me off.
“It’s on the counter.” I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.
“What the fuck is this?” Doe asked, waving the list around in the air.
“You asked me to make you a list of the shit I wanted.”
“I meant like groceries,” Doe jutted out a hip.
“What do you think that is?” I popped open the beer on the corner of the counter and cringed, holding a hand over my right ear until the echoing faded. I cracked my jaw like I was popping my ears on an airplane but I knew that a little jaw popping wouldn’t be enough to cure me of my aversions to sound and light.