Verse
Supernova
- Joined
- May 8, 2011
Victor hadn't really wanted to come here. He'd rather spend the summer of his eighteenth birthday in a civilized place, with girls and booze and all the other things an actual city provided. But mom and dad had it in their heads that he was maybe getting too much of that. He didn't even know how they'd strongarmed him into stepping on that bus. But now he was in his grandparent's house, mother's side. Maybe mom and dad had been right. Vic had been getting into a lot of fights lately. It didn't matter that he won. They only saw the scratches and counted the bruises. Like you could make a name for yourself without them, on the streets at night. They didn't understand. They wanted him to be as sweet as he had been, when he grew up here, before mom and dad could afford their own place. And even after that'd he'd been a grandma's boy.
He still stayed civil with her. It was easier to keep up the facade, because they didn't see each other that often. Maybe mom had seen the way he was with grandma, or remembered how it used to be, and thought they could just regress him to that. Some sunny memories and her cooking, and he'd be right as rain. Put that shit in a child psychology book and sell it.
They didn't know half of what he did. Half of what he loved doing. He had these impulses now. When it wasn't to hurt someone, it was to fuck, and usually those two things coincided. The way he carried on, even the criminals of the city started to take notice. He got into places he shouldn't be, and made money in ways that his family would frown upon. But he could buy his friends rounds and he didn't have to rely on dad for cash. Doing all that shirt meant freedom. And Victor liked that. Almost as much a fucking.
And there was neither freedom nor girls here. He'd arrived late last night, and made a bit of chitchat with both his grandparents. He feigned fatigue even if it had been early for him. At least the bed was comfortable. He just messed around on his phone with his friends, complaining about the situation, before he actually did fall asleep.
It was morning now, and with his overly rested mind, all his vices were blaring at him to indulge. But there was no contraband here. Most he'd be able to find was grandpa's whiskey, and the old man would definitely know if his grandson pilfered from that. Victor sat up against the bedboard. He'd slept naked. He was all shoulders despite being rather skinny. Youth had eaten all the babyfat off him. His features were carved and his black hair from his father's side hung in his eyes. He huffed and groaned. Picked up his phone. He had messages sent during the night. A couple of friends who were up the hours he usual was. Some funny shit and a link to porn.
He knew he shouldn't, but he just didn't fucking care right now. He was so bored he thought he'd flatline. So he followed the link.
His friends knew what he liked. On the screen a milf with gray pubes was getting a pounding from a young guy, Her mouth was wide and there were wrinkles around it as she gave her deep moans to the air. He grinned to himself. Should have put it on mute or just put his pods in his ears. But he was fast running out of fucks to give, unless it was actual pussy.
He frowned and shrugged with a decision and kicked the blanket off. His legs were scored with muscle, despite their lack of heft. They were lengthy, just like the rest of him, just like the cock he grabbed, rising for the ambiance of the clip playing on the phone with his other hand. He started jerking the veiny, ugly limb, the fat head swinging until enough blood had flooded it that it was entirely hard. He grunted and hunched over the phone, his obese dick starting to ring a bit from the pleasure.
He still stayed civil with her. It was easier to keep up the facade, because they didn't see each other that often. Maybe mom had seen the way he was with grandma, or remembered how it used to be, and thought they could just regress him to that. Some sunny memories and her cooking, and he'd be right as rain. Put that shit in a child psychology book and sell it.
They didn't know half of what he did. Half of what he loved doing. He had these impulses now. When it wasn't to hurt someone, it was to fuck, and usually those two things coincided. The way he carried on, even the criminals of the city started to take notice. He got into places he shouldn't be, and made money in ways that his family would frown upon. But he could buy his friends rounds and he didn't have to rely on dad for cash. Doing all that shirt meant freedom. And Victor liked that. Almost as much a fucking.
And there was neither freedom nor girls here. He'd arrived late last night, and made a bit of chitchat with both his grandparents. He feigned fatigue even if it had been early for him. At least the bed was comfortable. He just messed around on his phone with his friends, complaining about the situation, before he actually did fall asleep.
It was morning now, and with his overly rested mind, all his vices were blaring at him to indulge. But there was no contraband here. Most he'd be able to find was grandpa's whiskey, and the old man would definitely know if his grandson pilfered from that. Victor sat up against the bedboard. He'd slept naked. He was all shoulders despite being rather skinny. Youth had eaten all the babyfat off him. His features were carved and his black hair from his father's side hung in his eyes. He huffed and groaned. Picked up his phone. He had messages sent during the night. A couple of friends who were up the hours he usual was. Some funny shit and a link to porn.
He knew he shouldn't, but he just didn't fucking care right now. He was so bored he thought he'd flatline. So he followed the link.
His friends knew what he liked. On the screen a milf with gray pubes was getting a pounding from a young guy, Her mouth was wide and there were wrinkles around it as she gave her deep moans to the air. He grinned to himself. Should have put it on mute or just put his pods in his ears. But he was fast running out of fucks to give, unless it was actual pussy.
He frowned and shrugged with a decision and kicked the blanket off. His legs were scored with muscle, despite their lack of heft. They were lengthy, just like the rest of him, just like the cock he grabbed, rising for the ambiance of the clip playing on the phone with his other hand. He started jerking the veiny, ugly limb, the fat head swinging until enough blood had flooded it that it was entirely hard. He grunted and hunched over the phone, his obese dick starting to ring a bit from the pleasure.