I’d been grinding Visu down for days—teasing, poking—till he broke, voice tight with exasperation. “Fine, but hook me up with a girl I pick first.” Grinned wide—fuck, I’d cracked him open like a cheap lock. “'But' always stinks, huh? Not this time—think I’d stumble into that trap?” Laughed, sharp—“I’d love to be your wing woman, damn fucker.” Paused, smirked—“But you’re helping me too.” Deal set—anger from last night’s shame simmering low, defiance roaring high—time to spin this my way, play puppet master with a twist.
Tavern Pub again—just us, no sloppy crowd to dodge. Place thrummed—drinks clinking, chatter buzzing—and Visu scanned, eyes landing on her: full suit, sharp edges, older—Janani, he’d find out. “Her,” he said, hand stretching—fuck, not some giggling kid, a real score. “Get her for me—wing woman up.” Smirked—challenge on—anger flared, he’s testing me, but I’d ace it. Stood there a beat, cigarette dangling, playful buzz kicking in—shame a faint hum, defiance loud. Idea hit—fuck, I’d sell her a story, juicy and wild: Visu’s banging Mom, but he’s mine too—boyfriend, friend, whatever sticks—make her bite, hook her with the mess of it. She’d lap it up—someone like her, all polished and deep, needs a tale worth hearing. Grinned—perfect, twisted, my kind of game—anger fading, this was my turf now.
Strutted over, heels clicking loud against the worn floor, cigarette swinging loose—leaned in close, voice slick, eyes glinting with a spark I couldn’t kill. “Hey—see that guy over there, shy bastard—needs a night bad,” I said, nodding at Visu. Her eyes flicked up—Janani, broad forehead, makeup sharp but light, lashes long, maybe 40s, hair spilling free—tough, no soft edges. He’d tossed me that “fine” days back—grudging okay for a quick fuck, safe, no drama like the college pricks I dodge—but then flipped it, smirking, “Wing woman me first,” pointing her out—toughest bitch in the bar, suit crisp, eyes that’d cut you. Anger flared—he’s screwing with me, thinks I’m some dumb kid who’d crash and burn asking her—picked her sure I’d flop. Grinned wider—fuck that, I’d show him. “He’s eyeing you—good catch. I’m watching over there, and you’re bored as shit—another office drone night, huh?” She smirked, drink tilting—“What’s your angle, kid?”—ready to splash it or bolt, all business, too big for my game. Dropped it smooth—“He’s banging my mom—I’m trying to snag him off her, all mine”—bait tied tight, a sly lure landing easy. Her face twitched—shock, then curiosity—hooked her clean. “Hell, really?” she said, grip easing—defiance roared, I’d beat his trap silly. Took her back—“Worth it?” “Tons,” I lied, grinning—dropped her by Visu—“Your date”—they clicked—“Fucking her mom, huh?” she threw, and I cackled—“Gotta piss,” I tossed, slipping off—wing woman out, smirk wide—my game, asshole, eat it.
Stumbled back from Tavern Pub, head fuzzy from shots—Janani’s sharp smirk still bouncing in my skull—aimed straight for Visu’s room, not Mom’s side. Been sneaking over slow—first his couch, nicking his snacks, now this, my first night staking his bed. Umaiyal’s space was tight, hers and Dad’s—rules, shadows, suffocating—Visu’s was mine, messy, open, a win I’d clawed out step by step. Knew he’d be at Janani’s till dawn—fucking her silly, no doubt—so I sprawled on his sheets, shorts and tee, no bra, legs splayed—defiance roaring, my spot now. Light buzzed overhead, too bright—didn’t give a shit, crashed hard, smirking—Mom’s loss, my gain. Mind kicked up, giggling—Visu’s night, what a riot he’d snag. Pictured Janani strapping on some giant rubber dick—bright purple, thick as hell, veins popping—shoving it up his ass while he yelps, “Take it, shy boy!”—her cackling, pinning him missionary, no mercy. Grinned—then saw her stroking that flaccid dick I’d glimpsed at Kappa Kappa Gamma, pants down in that drunken haze—soft, droopy, kinda cute, my quiet buddy—not the hard one, nah, that’s a stranger. She’d tease it slow, liking its limp flop, coaxing it to dribble weak—laughed hard, rolling—poor Visu, stuck with that bad end. Regretted it quick—“Fuck’s it good for, just pissing?”—shook it off, still snickering. Then flipped it—him banging her, smug, till her husband storms in—big bastard, raging—Visu diving into a closet, pants tangled, peeking at them grunting sweaty—stifling laughs, he’d be fucked. Giggled—nah, too crazy—probably just dull missionary, her flat, him huffing—yawned, “Bet she’s snoring by now”—funny he’d pick tough but land lame. Drifted off, smirk fading—door creaked, snapped me awake—Visu, stinking, staring—anger flared, he’s back?—but I grinned, owning it.
Dawn broke—door creaked, Visu shuffled in, reeking of booze and Janani’s polish—anger flared, he’s back?—but I grinned, half-awake, owning it. He froze, seeing me—first time I’d taken his bed, not just camped out. Shame prickled—he’d rather Mom here?—but I tossed it off, playful edge cutting through. “Switch off the lights…” I mumbled, voice thick—paused, softer—“please.” He didn’t fight—just flopped on the couch, wrecked—anger softened, fuck, I’d kicked him out of his own bed. Felt bad, a twinge—he’s curled there, sweaty, muttering in his sleep—dreams twisting him up, probably that octopus shit he’d laugh off later. Then he jolted, gagging—rolled off, puked hot and rank on the floor—anger spiked, gross—but I bolted up, towel dripping from my half-shower, held his head as he heaved again. Dug out a Combiflam—shoved it at him—“Take it, dumbass”—watched him crawl back, dazed, eyes darting, lost—knew he wanted Mom, not me. Teased, sharp—“Janani’s still at her place”—grinned, torturing him—defiance roaring, let him squirm.
Days later, hauled my shit in—shorts, tees, a suitcase of random bras and panties I’d toss on when I felt like it—hooked my MP3s to his TV, speakers blaring—figured Mom must’ve told him not to stop me, her soft spot letting me slide. He didn’t fight, didn’t shove me out—just let it happen, sprawled on that couch like a beaten dog. Grinned wide—my room now, asshole, whether you like it or not.
0 comments:
Post a Comment