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Verse
Star
- Joined
- May 8, 2011
Darryl Wentworth was a shadow.
He was an ominous thing. A recent adult, he towered over most of his contemporaries and those he couldn't out-grow, he could out-fight. It made him feel secure, as though his father's affluence wasn't enough. And with his athleticism and youth, his skin was close to his bones, taut and springy. Handsome to a fault.
Because of all these blessings, he became rotten. He could have everything he wanted, so he took it. The respect of other boys was a given, and he got to get his frustrations out on them too. He liked to throw his weight around, and dabbled in things and acts that would have made his father ashamed. Though, Stephen Wentworth could be seen smiling at his son's violent antics, and in the past, the man had always bailed the boy out. It was hard to stop a force of nature like the young Wentworth.
Today he'd stayed home. College was a lot of work and while he had enough money to attend, he usually wouldn't. Unless it was to see and torment others. Most of them he knew already, since the local academy was also one of the nation's best. There certainly were people who wished he wouldn't go at all. He liked some of the female staff, so on occasion he'd be seen on the premise. There was something about older women that interested him. And the heartbreak of male students who thought they'd flee into academia when their other schooling was out. Somehow the stakes were higher when he tormented them and they had to pay tuition, too.
But he was all partied out, currently. It was about lunch time and he had only managed to get out of bed. A pair of boxer briefs guarded his much-used manhood, and he had a tanktop on. His black hair was a mess and he kept it back by tying it, though it was barely long enough. His prominent cheekbones and noble nose stuck out from the shadows of his morning face. Having brushed his teeth, he was rummaging around the pantry for some food. He lived here with his dad, and while Stephen kept his son with whatever he wanted, the man himself liked healthy food. It seemed Darryl had gone through his saving of junkfood, and was now trying not to consider the greener options.
He sighed and backed out, and came over to the fridge instead. He tore the cap off a water bottle and drank it quickly, compacting the plastic with the suction before letting it roll off his fingertips into the sink. The fridge door hadn't closed, so he stuck his head back in. The meats were tempting but the maid wouldn't be coming for a few hours. Mostly, he'd just flirt aggressively with her while she fried something up for him. He kneed the fridge closed dismissively, and sat on the island with a bag of trail mix. It was the only snack of his father's that he could stand. The sinew in his jaw jutted when he chewed, long legs dangling as he sat in the light from the window, looking out.
Who the fuck was walking up his driveway? She looked familiar. He frowned, annoyed to be bothered when he could see her ring the doorbell, and was about to lie down and wait her out, when he realized she had pretty good shapes on her. Not to mention the natural, dumb, amicable set of her face. He licked his lips of the mix and got on the kitchen floor. He wiped his mouth with a towel and threw that in the sink as well.
The young man who opened the door to the mother was tall, and hadn't put anything more on for her. The briefs would tell the tale of a rather large organ, even in its dormancy, and the tanktop showed off a long, athletic build, leaning toward the narrow side. He looked the woman over and decided he liked her even more, up close. "Hey. What can I help you with?" he asked and stepped aside, turning his back as he started walking in. Getting her alone with him would be the first step. But by her expression, he didn't expect he needed to do much to get her to come. She looked determined for something.
He was an ominous thing. A recent adult, he towered over most of his contemporaries and those he couldn't out-grow, he could out-fight. It made him feel secure, as though his father's affluence wasn't enough. And with his athleticism and youth, his skin was close to his bones, taut and springy. Handsome to a fault.
Because of all these blessings, he became rotten. He could have everything he wanted, so he took it. The respect of other boys was a given, and he got to get his frustrations out on them too. He liked to throw his weight around, and dabbled in things and acts that would have made his father ashamed. Though, Stephen Wentworth could be seen smiling at his son's violent antics, and in the past, the man had always bailed the boy out. It was hard to stop a force of nature like the young Wentworth.
Today he'd stayed home. College was a lot of work and while he had enough money to attend, he usually wouldn't. Unless it was to see and torment others. Most of them he knew already, since the local academy was also one of the nation's best. There certainly were people who wished he wouldn't go at all. He liked some of the female staff, so on occasion he'd be seen on the premise. There was something about older women that interested him. And the heartbreak of male students who thought they'd flee into academia when their other schooling was out. Somehow the stakes were higher when he tormented them and they had to pay tuition, too.
But he was all partied out, currently. It was about lunch time and he had only managed to get out of bed. A pair of boxer briefs guarded his much-used manhood, and he had a tanktop on. His black hair was a mess and he kept it back by tying it, though it was barely long enough. His prominent cheekbones and noble nose stuck out from the shadows of his morning face. Having brushed his teeth, he was rummaging around the pantry for some food. He lived here with his dad, and while Stephen kept his son with whatever he wanted, the man himself liked healthy food. It seemed Darryl had gone through his saving of junkfood, and was now trying not to consider the greener options.
He sighed and backed out, and came over to the fridge instead. He tore the cap off a water bottle and drank it quickly, compacting the plastic with the suction before letting it roll off his fingertips into the sink. The fridge door hadn't closed, so he stuck his head back in. The meats were tempting but the maid wouldn't be coming for a few hours. Mostly, he'd just flirt aggressively with her while she fried something up for him. He kneed the fridge closed dismissively, and sat on the island with a bag of trail mix. It was the only snack of his father's that he could stand. The sinew in his jaw jutted when he chewed, long legs dangling as he sat in the light from the window, looking out.
Who the fuck was walking up his driveway? She looked familiar. He frowned, annoyed to be bothered when he could see her ring the doorbell, and was about to lie down and wait her out, when he realized she had pretty good shapes on her. Not to mention the natural, dumb, amicable set of her face. He licked his lips of the mix and got on the kitchen floor. He wiped his mouth with a towel and threw that in the sink as well.
The young man who opened the door to the mother was tall, and hadn't put anything more on for her. The briefs would tell the tale of a rather large organ, even in its dormancy, and the tanktop showed off a long, athletic build, leaning toward the narrow side. He looked the woman over and decided he liked her even more, up close. "Hey. What can I help you with?" he asked and stepped aside, turning his back as he started walking in. Getting her alone with him would be the first step. But by her expression, he didn't expect he needed to do much to get her to come. She looked determined for something.