Crazy Stalker

Chapter 9 - Don't Fade to Black

Warning! This chapter contains (mildly) mature content. Yeah, because we've already gone too long without a gratuitous sex scene. 

- Jake Villin -

I'm kissing Corrine Stone on the boardwalk.

It starts with the two of us mashing our lips together. I'm thinking to myself, what the hell is happening? Am I the one making a move on her? What do I do with my hands? Shoot, I didn't even get the chance to chew some gum to prepare for this.

When she finally stops, I think to myself — Shorty's finally coming to her senses. She's going to tell me she regrets everything.

No. That's not how it goes down. Not even close.

Little-Miss-Hot-Buns drags me onto the deserted beach with her. It's starting to drizzle, so no one in their right mind would be heading toward the water right now.

No one, except the two of us horny idiots.

Anyone with an ounce of common sense knows that making out on the beach is not as romantic as it sounds. I can't help but go along with it. Corrine's ass looks so plump and round in those skinny jeans. I just want to grab a handful of each cheek, have her wrap those beautiful legs around my waist. I want to kiss her against one of those sandy dunes until she's begging for more than just my tongue.

"Not afraid of a little rain, are you?" Corrine asks as she makes me drop our backpacks in the sand. I grunt in reply. I have my hands full, trying to keep my eyes away from her bouncy cleavage before the hardness in my pants pops the zipper in my jeans.

We leave backpacks by the wooden fences and giggle as we creep under the boardwalk. There, in the semidarkness, we hear lightning rumble in the distance. I'm about to open my mouth to suggest we retreat toward civilization, but Corrine has other ideas. She starts to fumble with the button on my jeans.

"Hold on," I interrupt, but my hands make no move to defend me against her advances. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure," she giggles back. Her fingers brush against the sensitive-as-hell lump in my jeans and I nearly come right there and then. Back int he day, I could go at it at a competitive level except I haven't had any for months. My body is aching for release. I haven't even watched porn since Maggy, my ex smashed my taillights and told me I am a good-for-nothing loser. Every fictional sexual scene just felt dirty to me after I left her. I don't know if men are even allowed to regret sex with a chick.

Nothing about Corrine reminded me of that period of my life. Everything about her, from her thick curly hairy to the intoxicating smell of fabric cleaner in her clothes, seems right. It is like we simply fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle. At that moment, my past completely slips from my mind.

It is as though the rain had come and washed all traces of Maggie's darkness away.

Corrine backs away and runs through the pelting storm for her backpack. She brings it back under the sheltering boardwalk and searches the front pocket of her bag. Corrine fishes out a Hello Kitty coin purse. From inside the purse' mysterious depths, her fingers produce a single Trojan condom. It looks absolutely ancient, but she tosses it at me.

"I got this from the guidance counselor at my old school. We were supposed to use it to practice with bananas. Maybe, I'll practice by putting it on you."

"Nah, I can help myself, thank you," I assured her feeling my face burn with embarrassment. Okay, I should have been the one to bring the condom. What kind of a motorcycle-riding-hooligan am I if I'm not even prepared for surprise sex on the beach?