It's More Of A Boy Meets Boy Kind Of Thing... But More Badass.

It's More Of A Boy Meets Boy Kind Of Thing... But More Badass. ch.1

I walked onto the dance floor and was engolfed by the crowd. They were close to smothering me, but it was too much ecstasy to pass up on. This was my place, where I belonged. The music didn't miss a beat as it changed, almost inperceptibly, to a louder volume. I thought my eardrums were going to burst, but I didnt care; that would just be another adventure. There was nothing I wasn't willing to try. And there was close to nothing I hadn't tried. 

I put my hands lightly on the hips of a petit girl, and she giggled, at least it looked like it, as she swayed her body seductively. She might have heard about my reputation, or maybe she thought I was 'cute'. Uh huh. I've been called a lot, from cutey, to hot ass mo fo. Admitedly, I was more than half naked and about a single article of clothing away from being kicked out at that point. But that was the past, and I could take drugs a lot better now. Move on with it, just move on. But that wasn't always easy to do, seeing as how I now had a rule to not smoke, snort, or inject anything in public. 

Okay, to tell you the truth, I don't inject, or snort. If anything, I barely smoke. But its the thought that counts, a hottie stuck in a rut wants to go out and make trouble, finds a little rumour about a bad boy who'll try anything you got, that's sure to end well- for me at least. And I don't leave my participants unhappy. In need of bedrest, maybe, but not unsatisfied.  

I got some real fun when miss Preppy Moneybags I'll-Make-Daddy-And-BF-Mad-By-Dancing-With-A-Hot-Emo-Guy's boyfriend came up and swung a fist at me. What? Rich people have long names. I ducked down and dodged the hunk of meat by centimetres... Then I laughed soundly in the music as I realized any other form of meat I wouldn't be dodging. I knew that my fun might be over for the night if Jackass didn't pull his girlfriend out of the club by her hair, and instead decided to drop her ass and just wail on me. Wouldn't be the first time I had to escape empty handed- it actually happened a good amount of time. What? I told you- I'm not really a whore, or a prositute. I don't take money for giving the privillage of using my body, and I don't give it to just anybody. I choose carefully and I know how to say no. My favourite variation of the word is kicking the douchebag in the balls. Oh, fun.  

You might have realized, I'm not picky in the area of gender. Its sure fun mixing it up a bit sometimes, but guys are SO much more fun. In theory, when I used to think about it, being a young little boy of fourteen and fifteen, having only gotten a fraction of what I got in three months, I used to think about how boring it would be with a girl, compared to guy. There was just so much more going on. You both got to let out something, and even if you weren't going all the way, there were many things you could do to each other a lot of guys didn't mind doing. One of the first 'acts' I did was on a skinny, tall guy giving me a hand job, then he told me to give him a blow job and I didnt know what to do. I wasn't sure if I was good or not, I didn't understand what in the world I was supposed to do, but when I came up, swallowing like I knew I had to, oh, you should have seen his face. We were on the bench in the boys' locker room, and he slumped against the wall looking totally wiped out. The most relaxed, calm look on his face. Cloud nine. 

'Did I do right?' I had asked heisitantly. 

'Oh, man kid, you have no idea' He said, because he was a year older, I was thrilled to have gotten to do anything with an older guy, even if he was kinda slow looking and had horrible grades (which I soon picked up the habit of having) and he didn't really say much to anyone; he was older, taller, and obviously more experienced. He had groaned there, just thinking about it, 'You've got skill. God, you're gonna be somewhere in the future.' 

I frowned now as I remembered that, ducking through the crowd. As the memory caught me up, I felt like I was there again, I was fifteen and I could smell the locker room smell, feel the rubbing fabric of my shirt as I fidgited, blushing, and I could still feel the wierd stretched feeling of my mouth.