One Lucky White Boi—Chapter 2


One Lucky White Boi—Chapter 2One Lucky White Boi—Chapter 2Dustin and me quickly toweled off, and got dressed, which meant jeans and tees, just still barefooted. We had decided some months ago that it was no longer ‘proper’ for such fine studly yung men to sit around half n a k e d in the house in front of their mother, lol. It wasn’t unusual on a Friday night down at the diner, which was fish night, to hear some co-ed say something like ‘either of the Dillon b r o t h e r s would be the ‘catch of the day’. So anyways—we climb the stairs into the kitchen, where mom is pouring coffee, and I reach for a box of Cheerios. Pouring up the milk for the two us us, he give me that little boi grin—just like he used to do back when he was 8 or so.So we’re just sitting there, mostly in silence, as Dustin and me begin eating our breakfast—as special and delicious as it was—something was up, and it was making me nervous. I began bouncing my right leg up and down, from the toes. So hard now that I was shaking the table. Dustin kept glancing over at me, nervous still himself. Finally—mom breaks the silence. “So honey—are you going to answer the question”? “Huh—what question”? In a feeble attempt at playing dumb. I begin bouncing my leg even harder now, a sign to only a few, including lil bro, that I was becoming agitated.“Are you bois using protection”? I can feel my temperature rising once again, and my chest and face went flush. “umm, uhh, no mom—uhh neither one of us is ‘seeing’ anyone right now” in a final attempt at bluffing out the question—I knew exactly what she meant. “Oh for christ sakes Matthew—with each other”!!That was it—she said it. Breathing getting shallow now, I still made a futile attempt at diverting the question. I mean jeez—was mom about to throw us out of the house ??? After I paid off the mortgage ??“Mom—what the fuck are you talking about”? Still looking down at my bowl. “Matthew, honey—a mother knows”“Knows what mom—what is it that you think you know”? Well, that was it—I had just pled guilty with that question. “Honey—you been banging your little b r o t h er since his 14th birthday—now–are you bois using rubbers when you fuck, or what “? Mom now, raising her voice just slightly. Dustin lets out an agonizing “ahhhhhhh” and literally melts from the chair, and slides under the kitchen table. He curled up into a fetal position, clasping his ears with his hands, and starts shaking his head back and forth. He never did deal with stress very well. Finally deciding that we were now officially ‘outed’, I look up at mom. “What do you want to hear mom—that your two all star jock bois are not only gay—but gay for each other”??Dustin lets out another cry of anguish. “ahhhhhhggggg”“No pendik escort honey—I already know that—just answer the question—are you using protection”? Finally deciding that the time to ‘fess up’ was upon us, I slowly and softly responded, “no mom—it’s not an issue. Dustin and me are exclusive” Mom gave a slight smile, and came back with “much to the dismay of thousands of ‘ladies in waiting’ throughout the Tyler kingdom”, trying now to make light of the ‘inquisition’. I blushed again, thinking how right she was, actually. I mean—the Dillon b r o t h e r s ?? Damm—anyone would do about anything to bag one of us 🙂 Mom begin clearing the table, and poured more coffee. I tap lil bro on the butt with the top of my big ass size 13 foot, and tell him to ‘come on out—it’s over’. Dustin crawls from under the table, and resumes his seat—taking a drink of his coffee, but still shaking so bad that he splashes it all over the table. Mom takes the cup from his hand, and replaces it with a tumbler, lol. Looking back, it was kinda cute. Suddenly there’s a loud rap at the front door. Finally seeing an escape route, Dustin bolts from the table hollering “I’ll get it”.In just a few moments, there’s a loud scream from the living room. “Dude !! what the fuck”!!! Still sitting at the kitchen table, I turn to my left and shout back “What’s up”? Dustin screams again– “oh fuck dude—what the fuck”? Just as I scoot my chair back, Dustin appears in the doorway of the kitchen with—Ricky ???????????????????? If you recall in the early chapters of ‘Jock Tales’, Ricky was the bat boi waaaaay back in my Pony League baseball days. Through the years, even though he had a few years on Dustin, they had grown to be, well, ‘best buds’. I kinda figured for a while that they were fooling around—but I never questioned him about it—sometimes a boi just needs his privacy to explore :)So anyway—Dustin is carrying Ricky with his arm around his waist, and Ricky’s arm is around Dustin’s neck. Ricky, clothed in just a pair of slinky b-ball shorts, looks like he had just been jumped by a whole street gang. Busted eye, swollen face, busted lip, and I notice some severe bruises on his back, and ribs. Mom let out a shriek, gasping as she catches sight of him. Helping Dustin to drag him over to the table, now fortunately cleared, I began barking out orders. “Dustin—run get some pillows. Mom—ice–ice–lots of ice”. We heave Ricky onto the top of the table, and lay him out. Mom starts a panic, “Oh my god—oh my god—Im calling the police honey”.“No mom—leave it—just chill”“But Matthew—-” “No mom—just chill, and help us check him out”.Finally ‘obeying’, we began to assess the damage—it’s kartal escort pretty bad. “Mom—call Mrs. Stanton—down at the free clinic—tell her ’emergency secret mission’–she will understand. Tell her to come here, and we need novocaine, some pain pills, and a stitches kit—do it quickly mom”. I get down, face to face with Ricky, and looking him steely in the eyes, ask, “Did he r a p e you dude ? Huh—did that sicko fuck r a p e you again”? Ricky, managed to nod his head up and down, and that was it. I snapI rip off my tee shirt—no point in getting it b l o o d y -still barefoot from the morning–and grab my car keys. Dustin yells out “I’m going with you”, but I turn and point at him– “NO–there’s no point in both of us going to jail—just stay here and help mom take care of Ricky”. Mom cries out “Honey—where are you going”? “It’s time to make this muther fucker pay up”, and bolt for the Camaro. Tearing down the road, fishtailing, I slam the gears up till I hit forth. It was only a few blocks to Ricky’s house, and I desperately hoped his ole man was still there.Approaching the front yard, I drove right up to the door, tearing up the yard. Bolting through the front door, I headed for the kitchen—the house was layed out exactly like ours. There he was—standing right in the middle of the floor, high on meth, as usual. . The Mrs. lets out a scream, and I noticed Ricky’s younger bro running up the hallway, but I give him the ‘pointing finger’, motioning him to go back to his room. I rear back my right arm to where my fist is just behind my ear, and deliver the most powerful punch to the side of his head I guess I ever did to anyone. Knocking him backwards onto the table, I lunge for him again, and grabbing him by the throat, deliver three more quick punches to his face. Then, dragging him from the table, give a couple of knee jabs to his stomach, and then five left jabs into his ribs. I fully intended to break as many as I could—I think later the report said three. With another square blow in his chest, I knock Ricky’s dad clear across the kitchen, backwards, knocking him into the cabinets. But, that still wasn’t enough. I continued pounding on Rick’s dad until I was nearly out of breath, then finally, grabbing him by the shirt collar, literally drag him down the stairs to the basement. Again—just like our house. Approaching the saw horses he had set up, I shove him over them, and order him to loose his jeans. He managed to get out a “what the fuck”, and I told him “I’m gonna show you the proper way to punk somebody out you cunt”. I reach around and pop the top button on his jeans. I hear a cry from upstairs, “I’m calling the police”, and I respond maltepe escort back with “Good—your worthless bitch ass shoulda done that years ago”, and proceeded to strip Rick’s dad of his jeans.Already fully boned up, with 11” of thick pulsating meat, I grab his ass, and slam it in—with all my might. With a full on jackhammer assault, I blast his ass with all the power and energy that I had left. Slam after slam, I begin to get dizzy, and faint, but I continue, making sure he fully understood the feeling of being assaulted by someone bigger than him. For nearly twenty minutes I continue with the assault to his ass, now rearing back with my right fist, and bring it crashing down into his back, right between the shoulder blades. After years of football, and boxing, I knew right where the pressure points were, and therefore, how to deliver the most pain. I struck him over and over, while still fucking, until I finally see the bruises coming up. Satisfied at last, I deliver one final v I o l e n t plunge into the depths of his guts, and unload. Shot after shot of my heavy jock cream go flying into Ricky’s dad, like a waterhose had been turned on him full force. Five more jabs, as I continue to unload my highly prized seed—and the thoughts that this sicko muther fucker was getting it for free, I finally fall backwards myself, landing in a pile of lumber. Jumping back up, I quickly stuff the monster back into my jeans, and zip up. Yanking him by the back of his hair, I pull him from the saw horses, and sling him onto the cold concrete floor on his back. Delivering a final three quick blows to his nuts, with my big ass sz 13 foot, I leave him lying there, barely alive. With difficulty, climbing the stairs back to the kitchen, I grab Ricky’s younger bro by the collar, and looking into his eyes, just say, “your with me, punk”.With a fear in his eyes of terror, and without a word, Marky follows me back out, and into the Camaro, and we proceed back to the house, leaving his mother still screaming. We arrive back at the house, and I just bark out, “get out”. Marky does as told, and we proceed into the kitchen. Mrs. Stanton is there, stitching up Ricky’s eye, and Dustin kinda whispers in my ear that she had already given him a shot, and he was calmer now. I grab Marky by the throat, and pushing him towards his b r o t h e r , still in a low throaty voice, command “look at him”.In only a few more moments, there was yet another rap at the door. “That’s prolly for me”. I walk to the front door, and open it to allow the four (four !!) officers in. “You gonna come quietly Matthew, or we gonna have to cuff ya”? “Prolly be best for you guys to cover ur ass—and do it by the book—no big deal”I turn around calmly, and let Officer Kelso slap the cuffs on me. Ding a dinga ding ding—-dinga dinga ding ding—Nnnnnn, Beeeee, CeeeeGood evening viewers, our top story tonight—local legend, and football hero Matthew Dillon charged with aggravated assault, R A P E, and attempted manslaughter.

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