Up to this point all my stories have contained someone or something I had first hand knowledge of. I find myself in uncharted waters with this endeavor, it is solely my imagination.
*****
I sat on the chair off to the side of the end of our bed staring at my lovely naked wife. Being six months pregnant the baby bump had become a small hill. Her breasts had enlarged, the areola/nipple area had not only gotten bigger, but darker as well. We'd known each other since 4th grade but had only been married just under two years. I often marveled as to why I'd been graced with my sweet Grace. She was the looker, I was the nerd.
We had shared our first ever boy/girl kiss during Sandy Stones birthday party at the ripe old age of 11. It was ten minutes before the party was to end, it was also the end of our pre-pubescent romance. We remained close through middle school, me being a nerd in every sense of the word I was picked on and picked at a lot. Grace would step in and save my bacon so to speak, to the extent of punching Mike Wilson in the nose once.
Her dad was transferred to Japan in our eighth-grade year, I was left to fight my own battles. My dad enrolled me in a self-defense course, not only did I gain confidence from the class, I began to grow into my body. By my sophomore year in high school I had bulked up, was 6'2", weighed in at 235, and though I still wore my nerdy glasses and excelled in my bookwork, I was no longer picked on.
I was the classical nerd right down to the pocket protector for my pens. What no one saw or knew was that as I had grown bigger, it wasn't only my height and shoulders, my cock had grown as well, being a solid 8" when hard. It was late in the school year that I saw a girl I thought I knew. It took a few days to figure out it was Grace, her father had transferred back to our town. She had no idea who I was, my metamorphosis was such that I looked entirely different. Someone apparently told her and on Thursday of that week she sat across from me at lunch.
"Malcolm, is that really you? It's Gracie, do you remember me?"
"I remember you Grace, how could I forget the first girl I ever kissed, and the last I might add. Girls are into jocks, not nerds."
Our friendship picked up right where it had stopped when she moved away. We walked together if both were going the same way, if she was overloaded I would carry her books, we would text and occasionally talk on the phone. At that point there was nothing romantic about us, we were good friends and nothing more. In our junior year Grace started dating one of the jocks and our visits dwindled to almost never. I accepted it and went on.
Grace and I didn't see each other much after that, I was lost in my books, she was lost in Timmy Shepard. We hugged at graduation and then went what I thought was our separate ways. Little did I know I'd run into her at a party my sophomore year in college. I never drank much, having gotten drunk once in high school I hated the loss of control and made sure I never got that way again. I love the taste of a good beer, but I also know when to stop.
Grace wasn't being as careful. She was walking with some frat guy who had his arm around her shoulders squeezing her tit. From the grimace on her face I knew she wasn't very pleased but seemed too wasted to stop it. I walked over, took his hand by the wrist and moved it off her tit. He got all puffy, all I had to do was deflect his worthless effort at a swing toward my face and push him backward. He went ass over tea kettle falling onto a coffee table.
Taking Grace's arm I asked, "You ready to get out of here, or are you with him?"
"I'm not with him, I only met him tonight."
I took Grace for coffee, as she sobered up she wanted breakfast at midnight. That sounded good to me as well, by the time we left it was after one. She told me where she lived and I dropped her off, her telling me she'd text me soon. Her soon and my soon are obviously two different things as I never heard from her again until mid-way in the second semester of our senior year. Her text appeared desperate, asking me to please come get her at a given address. Ending with the word hurry in capitols.
Having delivered pizza's my freshman year I knew exactly where it was and raced there. It was a party for sure, loud music, lots of beer and wine. I kept looking but couldn't see her anywhere. I finally asked a guy, his response sent me into a rage.
"That must be the bitch they took upstairs for a gang bang."
I ascended those stairs three at a time, seeing one closed door I barged through to find five guys with their cocks out and one terrified Grace on the bed. Clothes torn, sobbing and calling my name. I was pissed, so full of rage I didn't care who I hurt and started swinging, after the first two went down the others backed off. I was as angry at Grace as I grabbed her arm and drug her down the stairs.
"Where's your purse Grace?" She pointed toward a closet, I fumbled through them until she yelled it was hers. I took her out the door and tossed her into my car. Her blouse was torn open with her tiny tits on display. They'd gotten her jeans off and she had nothing below but a pair of ultra-tiny black lace panties, so I took my hoodie off and put it around her shoulders. We drove to my apartment, I picked her up in my arms and carried her to my flat.
The super was walking by and said something about no guests after midnight. I told him to fuck off. In the apartment I put her butt on the toilet, gave her a waste basket and told her to get that shit out of her stomach. She stood, slid her panties down around her ankles, quickly sat and peed a rain storm. I stuck my finger down her throat and held her hair back as she puked a quart or more of rancid bile. I had all I could do not to throw up just smelling it.
I had a washcloth ready to clean her face, I was ready to lift her off the toilet when she asked me to wipe her pussy. What the hell, in for a dime, in for a dollar. I took a few folds, patted her vulva and stood her up.
"Where are your panties Grace?"
"I don't know, they were here when I took them off." I thought to myself, well no shit Dick Tracy.
I put her on my bed, dug out one of my tee's, stripped her the rest of the way, slipped the shirt on, and put her under the covers where she instantly went to sleep.
I slept on the couch, when I woke I couldn't get the sight of her proud little titties out of my head, or the soft triangle of fur between her legs. I noticed it extended down along the sides of her labia a little bit. I was so turned on thinking about it I had a hardon. I found her panties behind the toilet, they were a mess, I looked at the size and ran over to Kohls. I found a three pack of cotton bikini panties and decided they'd have to do. As traumatic as her night had been I expected her to sleep late, which she did, not waking until nearly noon.
I knew she was awake when I heard her screech. Must have figured out she was naked beneath the shirt. As she stumbled out she looked confused.
I looked at her, "Good morning. Are you feeling better this morning?"
"Malcolm, where the fuck are my clothes? Why am I naked under this shirt and why the hell am I in your apartment?"
"Well thank you very little, you snooty bitch. I could have left you to be gang raped. As for your clothes, you had no bra, your blouse is torn apart, you had no pants on, your panties are a soaked mess, and it was you who texted me in desperation. There are clean dry panties in the dryer, help yourself."
I showed her the laundry area, she dug out the panties and slipped a pair on.
"Mac, I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean gang rape?"
I had put her torn blouse and soiled panties in a zip-lock and laid it on the dryer. I pointed at the bag and told her to look for herself as I walked back into the kitchen.
"How did I end up in this shirt, in your bed, did you screw me?"
'You're a real piece of work Grace. You self centered haughty tramp. You'll go to a party and agree to go upstairs and fuck someone you just met, but you're pissed off at me for getting you safely away from the five guys with their dicks out. Get you cleaned up, help you as you puked your guts out and put clothes on you? Fuck you Grace. I have an old pair of sweats you can wear, tell me where to drop you and I'll be out of your hair. Here's my phone, check the texts yourself."
I grabbed a bag of garbage that needed to go out and left the apartment. I was more disappointed than pissed. We'd known each other more than half our lives and she was treating me like I'm excess baggage. Walking into the apartment she was not in sight. I went looking for her and half way down the hall heard her on the phone.
"How could you leave me there Shiela? I don't care who you met or where you wanted to go, you abandoned me. I know I was plastered, all the more reason to take me with you. What? Are you fuckin nuts? If Mac hadn't come and rescued me from there I'd have been gang raped. No, we're not friends, not after what you did. It's all coming back to me now. Don't talk to me anymore Sheila."
I was leaning on the door jamb listening to her as she turned around. Her eyes were full of tears, as she walked to me she began to blubber and shake. Once more I would be her fall guy, her stalwart, her port in the sea of turmoil and heartbreak. As she fell into my arms sobbing I wondered if I would ever be able to walk away from my Gracie and just let the chips fall where they may. I scooped her up, laid her on the bed and lay down next to her. Stroking her hair, I asked her.
"Why do you do this to yourself Grace? You're one of the smartest people I know, but you're so smart you're dumb. You continue going to these sleazy parties, that are inhabited by even more sleazy people, you drink until you're vulnerable and then you cry foul. I don't get it Grace."
"I'm just looking for someone to love me as I am. Someone who'll take care of me and treat me nice."
"No you're not. You want to be popular like you were in high school, and you think being popular will lead you to mister right. How do you not realize all those supposedly popular people are as fucked up in their thinking as you are? You're the blind leading the blind. Not one of you is willing to look at your life for what it is and then change it."
She sobbed even more. I suggested she get up and dressed so I could take her home. She wanted to stay. Sheila was her roommate in the dorm and she was afraid to confront her.
"Mac, couldn't I stay here with you? It's only two more months until we graduate. I could sleep on a futon in your office. Please Malcolm, I don't want to be in that environment anymore. If you come with me to get my stuff Sheila won't confront me. Please Mac, I'm begging you."
Following lunch we drove to the dorm where I followed her to the room. I instantly knew what Grace had meant by confrontation. Sheila was a wound up nasty little spit ball. Her tongue could cut your throat. I finally told her to shut her ugly mouth or I'd do it for her. She stomped out of the room letting us finish packing.
Grace wanted me to turn around while she put on a pair of jeans. I reminded her that I'd stripped and re-dressed her the night before, I didn't think seeing the panties I bought and laundered for her were going to scare me. She was looking for a bra and top.