johnm
Member
Posts: 415
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This is the start of the story, which can be read without all the **** and oddities at the author's blog The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
ONE
Ariana was an LBFM, a little brown fucking machine, and had a tight ass that looked good in jeans, better in hot pants, and best of all buck naked with my dick ploughing it wide open, but the key point here is she was dating one of my friends, or at least what the kids used to call a "frenemy" – someone I hung out with a lot who I kind of couldn't stand. Which, I guess, is the main draw of this story, and why I've been desperate to get it down and tell someone, albeit with the names and certain details changed to keep things in the fiction section and me out of court.
Ariana was dating John, a guy I knew from an old job when I was at college. Convenience store work, dull as fuck but we got high together before, during and after shifts, and bonded over that, as well as a summer spent down in Mexico, where he picked up Spanish and I got lice. He was nice enough, I guess, and although our politics and tastes in music differed I can't really say why he got on my nerves. Maybe it was just the fact he was another guy and I'm competitive as fuck. I mean, I don't like hanging out with folk that much, but I do like to party, and I love to get laid.
So I liked John, I guess, but I liked Ariana more.
TWO
Now I should say that I was dating a girl at the time, too, let's call her Jane. Nice girl, but not someone I should have been with, although she was friends with Ariana and kind of set this whole thing in motion, so she'll turn up a few times here, but never in a torrid threesome, more's the pity.
"John's an asshole," Jane said, while we were hanging out in the apartment, doing whatever we were up to.
"How so?"
She sighed.
"Don't tell him I said, this, OK, or Ariana either."
"Sure."
I didn't give a fuck, and I loved gossip.
"Seriously, don't, but also...I don't like him, I just don't. I've seen how he treats her, like he's the boss, and she, well. I shouldn't tell you this, so don't –"
"It's OK," I said, "I won't."
"Well, he doesn't even fuck her anymore."
"What?"
This was news to me. I mean, John and I never talked about sex, not with our girlfriends, but Ariana was so hot, and really flirty, with all that Latin *****, I guess, that I couldn't imagine any guy not fucking her eight days a week.
"He smokes too much weed, she said, can't get it up."
This was news too – getting high always made me horny, and I hadn't suffered from a boner malfunction since I'd taken those pills across the border.
"So why doesn't she leave him?"
Another sigh.
"It's not that simple, is it? She can't afford a place on her own."
****. I'd been in that situation before, and it sucked, and the thing was, I was kind in the same thing then, but in reverse. I made enough money, but Jane didn't, so I picked up the slack in all areas, and I resented that, wished she'd buck up her ideas or at least spend less on junk food and contribute more to the rent, maybe work out too, lose a few pounds and visit a tanning salon, get her ass and tits brown, like this Ariana girl.
It was one of things that made me sure we'd never get married, that I'd hold out for someone who pulled their weight, or at least made the effort to.
That and kept her body in check.
Still, I was feeling more generous then, was probably high as fuck, and my mind flashed with the idea that Ariana could move in with us, and I'd bang her and Jane, my dick moving between them both and them fighting over my cum, both them doing it for love, lust or the rent, I really didn't care.
I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't jerked off to that idea before, or thought about it when I fucked Jane, closing my eyes when ploughing her from behind and imagining her face down in Ariana's hot snatch, or thinking about this other girl licking my balls, then me pulling out and cumming all over her face.
"That's too bad," I said, "and I can't believe he doesn't want to fuck her, I mean..."
My voice trailed off as Jane stared like she wanted to punch me while ******** a beer and eating a big bowl of chips I'd paid for.
Yeah, a whole lot of things needed to change.
THREE
I didn't think about any of this again for a week or so, maybe two, but then I was over at John's place, smoking weed and playing video games. Ariana was there, tight ass in a flowing skirt, keeping out the way of John, avoiding eye contact, giving minimal answers, all the while being overly polite with me, hugging me when I came, getting me a *****, asking about Jane, the whole thing.
I liked it, of course, because Ariana was nice, really friendly and very cute. I mean, she was straight-up beautiful – great hair, brown skin, almond eyes, full lips, easy smile and all the right curves, and she smelled like peaches and vanilla.
She made me want to learn Spanish, ditch Jane and move down south for good – el hombre del something or other.
But John seemed to be sick of her, and when she went out to run some errands he paused the game, got two fresh beers, lit a joint, sighed and passed it to me.
"Christ, she's a bitch," he said.
"OK," I said, ever the gossip hound, "I'm all ears."
FOUR
"Where do I even begin? She's pushing me to marry her. Her folks are flying up from Colombia next month, you know that? She wants to make a big announcement, make the whole thing legit, then we'll fly down there and seal the deal."
"What's wrong?" I said. "Ariana's great. She's a catch."
John smiled and shook his head.
"Yeah, right, you don't know the half of it, man. She's a nag. Doesn't like me smoking, doesn't like me ********. Doesn't even like me playing games. I'm 27, but she wants me quote-unquote grow up and get a better job, while she...fuck...do you know what her career plan is?"
I shook my head.
I didn't know anyone who had one.
"She wants to be painter, or a writer, and – and dig this – she wants to have kids and she wants me to pay for it all. I tell you, man, it's some kind of Latin thing, I swear, and I just know the minute she gets a ring on her finger thluuuump!"
He blew out his cheeks and held his arms out over his belly.
"She'll fatten up like a pig and be spitting out kids like watermelon seeds."
"Uh-uh," I said, "impossible. She's a vegan, right, and doesn't she run?"
He laughed.
"Trust me, man, I've seen it happen. Remember that summer in Mexico? All the girls are pretty then they take you home to meet mamá and she looks like 200lbs of refried beans and the dad's a sad sack who lives off beer and cigarettes, just waiting for the lotto or to blow his brains out. Well that ain't gonna to be me, compadre, I'll tell you that."
He finished his beer in two gulps then went to the fridge to get another.
"Fuck."
"What is it?" I said.
"No beer."
He pulled out his phone and started texting.
"It's OK, though, I'll get Ariana to pick some up."
We kept playing and smoking, and John kept moaning about Ariana until he forgot and we just focused on the game, shooting pedestrians and cops, blowing **** up and driving all over town. Grand Theft Auto: Mexico City.
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