"You mean to tell me, you've seen three girls kissing at the same time?" The man in front of me says incredulously, as if saying I'm lying. He's a young guy in his early 20's, the sort that lives to impress other guys, probably because he's that insecure. The type that gets aggressive in front of a crowd but when it's time to actually fight, he runs away.
"Hell, any party that really gets going with college girls, you make the suggestion to a bunch of drunk girls and you are bound to see it," I tell him trying to show that I'm not enjoying this conversation. Before he says or does anything else, I know what he's going to do in an effort to impress me. And that's to get his girlfriend and 2 other girls to kiss while making a big deal out of it. I've seen guys act like this before, no doubt a cuckold thing in which he's wanting to have some sort of sexual experience with myself and his girlfriend. I consider that I wouldn't mind this, but in the end there'll be too much talking and I don't feel like hanging out with him that much.
The guy keeps talking, but I just start to walk away and down a nearby hallway of this apartment. As I walk, I half stumble, spilling some of my drink but catch myself. I'm not sure who's apartment this is, but it's crowded with lots of booze, drugs and loud music. That's one great thing about this huge, crappy apartment complex, there's always a party going on no matter the time or day. You just have to find it, especially today. It's freaking valentine's day, with everyone having sex and partying on the brain.
Holding my drink up high as I enter while dancing into this new crowded room, I lock eyes with a rather pretty thing. We both look at each other, silly smiles on our faces. Motioning with my head, I tell her to come on over, which she does, dancing with the music. She wears an unremarkable outfit of a tank top and a short skirt, much like so many other girls here are wearing, only with her it's clear she's not wearing a bra.
She moves right up to me, dancing in a very suggestive manner. I begin to dance along with her, our bodies pressing against each other passionately. Well, I wouldn't really call it dancing to be honest. As we keep going, I ponder that you would think I would feel tingles of love and the hint of excitement from this, but I don't. Instead this feels more like moves I need to do to achieve a goal. Like a secret handshake to get inside a special club. And what is the goal? That's to fuck whoever this girl is in the bathroom.
When we dance face to face, I can see the girl's eyes move up and down my body, clearly showing how she likes what she sees. I have no doubt part of it is because I am in very good physical shape thanks to my profession, but I know it is also because she spots the expensive clothes, the fancy watch and custom-made necklace. She can tell that not only am I good looking, I have money.
The dancing gets more and more lewd to the point I know if we don't go somewhere private we will have sex out here with everyone watching. I do enjoy openly groping her, not really caring if it is in public or not. To be honest, I'm too drunk to even notice if anyone is even looking as at one point I lift her top to see her tits.
After a couple of minutes of dancing, with her grinding her ass against my hard manhood, we do head for the bathroom. Dancing, groping and stumbling, we go room to room, looking for the bathroom but instead find a closet instead. Once inside it goes like it always does. She shows me that she is a pretty young thing here to prove she is free and independent by doing whatever she wants, whenever she wants, with whomever she wishes. And I am the good looking, 30 something fit man that clearly has money by the way I'm dressed. Girls like her and guys like me come together like magnets for some reason.
"You gonna give me my valentine's day present?" She tells me as she pulls me into the closet, eagerly showing how much she wants this. In a flash I've pulled off all of her clothes to expose that tender, young naked body of hers. After, she furiously undoes my slacks so my throbbing manhood can pop out, eager and waiting. With her chest pressed against mine, I pick her up, each hand grabbing her tight ass and lift her. And it's like this we fuck, with me holding her up and physically lifting and dropping her on my cock as she rides.
Like it normally goes with girls like her, she moans loudly, her moans almost sounding painful. If the music wasn't blasting so loud, I'm sure someone would come in to investigate. They get louder and louder as I pound her fast and hard. Her legs wrap around me as I do this, the clapping sound of our bodies getting loud enough to rival the music.
The sex is hot, furious and fast as she cums while riding my cock after a few minutes, no doubt thanks to something she took. Once she does, she gets on her knees to finish me off, showing me just how proficient she is at oral pleasing. She makes a point of showing how she can deep-throat too, showing how much experience she has at sex. After just a few minutes she finishes me off, willingly taking a facial so she can look up at me and laugh with my cum all over her face.
We both then get dressed, with her wiping off the cum with clothes hanging in the closet. Neither of us say anything as we quickly dress, not even asking each other's name. In fact, all of this is very mechanical, like it is a routine that we both know all to well. While I dress, I think of how much I enjoy feeling like this.
Once dressed, I pull out a few pills from the baggie in my jacket pocket and we both take them. I don't know why she wants the pill, but I just want the high I'm on to never drop. I like the feeling of my head being toxic waste and not letting me think. I like feeling like everything is at arm's length.
We exit the room, with the girl going to the right while I turn to the left. Moving past person after person, I find my way to what I think is the living room. There I spot a glass that's half-filled with booze. I can't remember if it's my drink or someone's else, but to be honest, I don't care. I take it and down all that's left in it, letting out a loud "Woohoo, it's fucking valentine's!" to show I'm ready to party.
Moving about again, I enjoy the party, where everyone is dancing and having a great time. I move about, not sure where I'm going or what I'm doing. I'm all smiles as I move along, telling person after person how good they look, and what a great party this is. Along my way, I stop to take shots with strangers, toasting whatever it is that they are happy about. When you look like I do, most everyone wants to be your friend.
This is a good party too, with everyone here wanting to dance and be happy as well as not talk. And as I walk about, I wave at people, wink at girls and fist bump men that claim to know me. I think many of them actually do know me because they keep calling me "The Spider," which sounds familiar. At the moment, I'm so drunk and high I can truly say I can't even remember what my name is, which I thoroughly enjoy.
"Hey bro," a man says angrily as he steps up to me. He steps right in front of me, inches away as if we are meant to kiss. I step back, finding that I'm so drunk that as close as he is, his face remains blurry. But he doesn't look familiar, not that anyone here does. All I can really tell is he is much shorter than me, which isn't surprising. I'm a professional wrestler after all, standing at 6'4 and 280 pounds of muscle.
"You fuck my girl?" He asks aggressively. I can see there's a girl behind him, which he's holding her hand. She is very blurry as well, but from her body language, she was clearly forced to follow him. She looks at the ground as if embarrassed or ashamed, even if no one here is even looking at us.
I look at the girl to see if I know her, but she doesn't look familiar to me, but that doesn't mean anything. In fact, I think I've had sex maybe 10 times today each with a different girl. One of which I think was in her 50s. So this chick might be one of them. Hell, she might be the girl that I just fucked in that closet for all I know.
"Did you?!" The short man demands to know, stepping up to me again. In a flash, rage rises and takes over my emotions. It shoots up from my core and erupts like a volcano, unleashing all those fiery emotions. The need to stay high and float on in a drugged cloud disappears as raw fury replaces it. I feel the heat move over my skin, turning everything red.
Furious at this little bastard for daring to accuse me of anything, I pull my fist back. Wasting no time, I punch the guy right in the face as hard as I can. I feel my fist break bone as it slams into the side of his face, knocking the guy right off his feet. He flies back, knocking over several party goers that were behind him like bowling pins.
"Yeah, I did fuck her," I yell, not sure if he's even conscious as he lays on the ground. I stand over him as his girl and others kneel down to check on him. They look concerned as if the man could be seriously hurt.
"And she loved it. Said it was the first time she had it from a real man," I yell angrily, having no clue if I did have sex with her or not. I then walk off, but make sure to step on the guy's crotch with my entire weight as I do.
I walk right out of the apartment, but not because I'm scared the guy has friends. Truth be told, even drunk and high my legit martial art experience would still come out on top against a bunch of other drunks. No, I leave because this party has now become boring. The fight will be the only thing people will want to talk about, and it'll no longer be a chill party but an amp'ed sausage fest.
As I walk down the hallway on the apartment complex, I begin to hope the guy has friends that will try to jump me as I would love to get all this anger out. Love to unleash even more of the rage that I feel. I mean, I was feeling just fine till he had to piss me off.
I live my life these days by a simple motto, and that's to always stay high. To always be moving and never slow down. If you stay in the clouds, you can never ever get rained on. That's the way my life is. Drinking, drugs, fucking and more keeps me high.
As I walk very unsteady in the hallway, I try to listen for sounds of the next party. I'm not sure what time it is, but that shouldn't matter. There's always a party here, somewhere. That's the blessing of living in a not so great apartment complex in downtown.
I'm not sure which is doing more to me, the drugs or the booze but right now I'm very comfortably numb which I love. Walking with my side against the wall for support, I walk down the hall, knowing if I just keep walking I'll find another party somewhere.
I stop after a few more steps and take another pill as I fear one of the ones I took is going to wear off soon. After I take it, I notice something that I didn't before. I think I know where I am. It's like déjà vu the way that I feel that I've been here before.
I have no clue how long I've hung out at this apartment complex, or how I even got here, but I think it's been over a week at least, moving from one party to another, sleeping wherever I blackout at. But now I have almost a 6th sense that I know exactly where I am. I glance about as if I'm going to notice some sign or landmark to refresh my memory of where I am.
My feet start to lead me to where I feel this déjà vu feeling the most. My tired and drunk mind seems to slowly awaken from its stupor with each step I take. For the first time in a very long time, I feel nearly sober and bursting with curiosity. This curiosity replaces the deadened feeling that I've felt for so long inside until I stop in front of one of the apartment doors.
This door. I know this door. I know this apartment. I reach to knock but this causes me to get off balance, sending my drunk and high body stumbling forward. The door is unlocked and opens at once at my weight falling against it. My muscular body stumbles forward straight into the apartment as I try to stop my momentum. Unable to help it, I fall hard on the floor, right on my face.
Using my strength, I push myself to my knees. When I look around, I see a fully furnished apartment with no one home. It's a nice apartment too, not fancy but classy. It makes it look like it isn't in the middle of a crappy apartment complex.
There's an end table in front of me with a picture on it and for some reason my hands go to grab it, even if my eyesight is still blurry. My heart begins to pound as when I grab hold of the picture, I instantly know whom it's a picture of. Immediately tears fill my eyes as my drunken state shatters away completely. I hold the picture in front of me with trembling hands so I can see it fully.
Loud, giant uncontrollable sobs come out of me, filling up the entire apartment with their sound. The sobs are a horrible sound too as they are louder than the music at the last party. Overcome with emotion, I collapse to the floor as I cradle the picture as if it is the most precious thing in the world.
The picture is of me, with my wife and my young daughter. It was taken at an independent wrestling show that I was working. It was a special day because it was the first time my daughter ever got to see me wrestle in person. She was so incredibly happy and proud that day, thinking her father was a superhero. And my wife was so happy too. So happy as I remember all the love in her eyes as she looked at me. To make it perfect, I just signed a contract which took away all of our money troubles. Signed with a wrestling company to make all of the hardship and troubles worth it. It was one of the best days of my life.
This picture was taken 2 weeks ago and my wife was quick to frame it and put it here. And 1 week after she did, they were hit by an 18-wheeler on the way to surprise me by going to one of my shows. Both died instantly, just like the driver of the truck. The 18-wheeler which was hauling gasoline then caught fire and exploded which took their bodies, so I never even got to bury them. I didn't have them, or a living person to blame.
Looking around, I recognize our apartment. Or should I say, my apartment now since they are gone. That's why it felt familiar. I've been gone so long partying that I forgot I lived here.
All around I see the home that my wife decorated, and I see the toys that belonged to our daughter. I see the apartment we were days away from moving out of to a nice house. And I feel the huge emptiness of the apartment as it wants them back to feel their love as much as I do.
It is fitting that it was today, Valentine's Day that I came back here. For my wife is and was my valentine...forever. I know I forgot that. I know I looked around for something to fill that void, but no one could ever replace her. No one could even come close.
Standing up, I take the picture with me to the kitchen. Once there, I grab the first bottle of booze that's on the counter. Not caring what it is, I start to drink it straight. As I chug, I try to push the thoughts of my wife and daughter out of my mind. I try to stop this pain.
I try to think of anything else. Of how I got over a million dollars from the insurance company. Of how I quit being a professional wrestler. Of how I've been able to fuck anyone I please after being faithful for so long while on the road. Of how I get to party as long and hard as I want to now with no one complaining about it.
After a fourth of the bottle is empty, I put it on the counter. The booze begins to do it's job, making me feel that all to familiar drunk feeling. To help it along, I decide to take another pill. I just want the pain to stop.
I love my wife. I love my daughter. And I miss them. Oh, how I miss them. In all my days getting beat up and whipped about I thought I knew pain. But I never knew there was pain like this. All I want to do is to forget. All I want to do is to stay high.
Drinking more, I stumble with the bottle being careful not to disturb anything in our home. Moving to the end table, I replace the picture, just as it was. I leave it just as she left it, wanting it perfect. Then I turn and head for the door, not wanting to see anymore of the shrine to when I was happy and in love.
"Gotta stay high," I say softly as I exit, my eyes still blurred with tears and my breath still shuddering. I put the bottle to my mouth, desperate to get rid of the sadness and hurt that I feel. Desperate to get rid of all the memories I have of when I was happy. Of when I was normal. Of when I was in love.
Eager to feel numb, I stumble forward, off to find the next party.
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