Better Off
They assured him he would better off afterwards
** There is no sexual contact between minors. All people participating in sexual activity are 18 years old or older. **
Inspired to some degree by the song
I'd Be Better Off
written by Johnny MacRae and Steve Clark. Performed and recorded by Doug Stone.
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"I be better off in a pine box on a slow train back to Georgia,
In the gray walls of a prison doin' time.
Think I rather die and go to hell and face the devil,
Than to lie here, with you and him together on my mind..."
Damn, I hate that song. It hits me every time I hear it and tonight is no exception. I never really drank before my life turned a sad country song clichΓ© but, here I am again for the third night this week.
"Hey Will!" Danny called out. He would probably consider himself to be my friend, but I know that I don't really have any friends. That would require me to allow myself to feel; something I am completely unwilling to do right now.
"Hi Danny, what brings you out on a Thursday evening? Don't you think Carla would like to have you home this evening?"
"She's worried about you, Will. Ever since Amy left, you just aren't the same guy."
"I'm fine! Go on home, Danny. Tell her I said hi."
"Think I'll set and watch a couple of innings of the game with you"
"I haven't even been paying attention to it. The Cardinals and I are having the same kind of year."
"Well, a beer won't hurt and we can catch an inning or two before I head out"
He ordered a lager and turn his attention toward the screen.
I turned my head that way but I wasn't into it. Nothing could hold my attention these days as I searched for an uncomfortable but at least bearable numbness.
As much as I tried to avoid the memories, they always came rushing back to me. That's why drinking had become my new pastime. Anything to not be able to remember. The tears didn't come much these days but the pain never seemed to disappear. There she was again; her face, her laugh, her sound, her smell... just her.
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Amy Stanley (nee Franks) was the love of my life and the bane of my existence. We had met in high school. Yeah, I guess I'm one of those jerks that believed that you could meet your soul mate before you move out of your parents' house. Our friendship started in the 10
th
grade. We were partnered together for a history project. Amy despised our history class and our teacher Coach Sawyer. We spent three weeks working together and became pretty good friends. We both ran in different circles so dating never really crossed our minds but I appreciated her carefree approach to life. We would hang out together when our friend groups bumped into one another in our small town. Both of us were smack dab in the middle of average physically. Amy is 5'4" and 125lbs. Her auburn hair has always been beautiful and a source of fascination for me. She has hazel eyes than wander from greener to more blue depending on her clothing and her mood.
By our junior year of high school, we would seek one another out. I was always attracted to Amy but I didn't feel like she reciprocated my interest. That year I had filled out enough to catch her attention. I was 5'9" and 167 lbs. of pure lean muscle.
Our desire for one another was intense but a boy raised in south Alabama knows that there are limits on far a gentleman can go with a young lady. Our year was filled with some incredibly passionate make out sessions. I became intimately aware of all of her curves; on the outside of her clothing exclusively. Her gait and her curves draw every eye in the room when she walks in. 34 C breasts, a slender waist, and I dream of genie hips were enough to capture my imagination and hold it hostage.
During the fall of our senior year, we both turned 18 and our education continued. I will, unfortunately, carry the memory of Amy's bare breasts with me forever. I say unfortunately because I will never find a set of titties that will entice more. I love her C cups. Her breasts with perfectly proportioned to her body, have light pink areolas with cherry red nipples. In all fairness, they might have been that color because of my lips and tongue.
Exactly two times after seeing them for the first time, I had her on her back wrapping them around my dick. We were both sitting topless in my truck when I made my request.
"Amy, baby, your boobs are so incredible!" (She hates the term titties) "Would you let me rub my dick between them?" She looked at me so wide eyed but her grin was unmistakable.
"Take it out, Will. I want to see it!"
"Help me slide my pants down, baby."
"Will, I like your willie," she giggled, red faced.
"He likes you too, Amy. Do you want to touch him or just rub your boobs on him?"
"Show me how, sweetie."
I took her hand guided it to my cock. Like the rest of me, it's pretty average. About 6 3/4 inches but with good thickness. It didn't look tiny in her hands and that made me feel pretty good.
"It's so hard and thick, baby!"
"You turn me on so much darlin'. After we've been together for an evening my balls just ache. I go home and jerk off three times before I can even think about goin' to sleep."
The flush swept up from her chest all the way to her face. "You make my panties so wet I have to change them before I go to bed," she mumbled. It was my turn to blush.
Thinking about her words, I whispered, "Are they wet right now?"