tagNon-EroticHurricane Party

Hurricane Party

byHeathen Hemmingway©

Some people in this world live a life of extremes. This story is about one of them, told through their own eyes.

I get really horny when I'm aggravated. Sometimes when I'm pissed off, sometimes when I'm antsy. Every time the girl from the end of the block walks by I get a huge hard on. Like a lightning bolt. The tv articles and books say I'm a sexual predator because getting angry makes me horny. That really kills me. I've never even had a speeding ticket. There's gotta be more people like me out there. I've been with a few girls, but it always felt weird. I just don't feel I'm in my place in bed with a pretty woman. Don't get me wrong. I love pussy. I daydream about it all the time. Every time the girl from the end of the block walks by I find myself wondering what hers looks like. I just don't feel right when I'm with a pretty girl. I can't help but feel she can do better than me, and that makes me feel like shit.

I've always been a loner. Most people seem to sense it right away. I don't carry around a big fake smile and try to win people over. I just try to be nice as it takes to get by and go on about my way. Alot of people try to chum up with me. I don't trust any motherfucker with a big salesman smile. Sometimes I think there is a sign above my head that says 'sucker' and everyone can see it but me. I work my ass off. I pull boxes at the p.o. at night, and work ten hours a day Monday through Saturday in the shipyard. Between my two jobs I've managed to put a nice chunk of money back.

It really amazes me. I stay out of people's way and don't bother anyone. I don't harass anyone, don't drink or party. I've never once been behind the wheel of a car when I was drunk. Matter of fact I can count on one hand the times I have been drunk. And get this shit, the fact that I don't make a big blip on the social radar makes me stand out. I just fucking love it sometimes. I'm no lawyer, but I am sure there isn't a law against being a quiet person.

I try not to feel guilty about watching the girl. I try to justify it. I never watch her for more than just a few seconds. She's tall. Her hair is long and jet black. It's so black it shines in the sun. Most days she wears it up in a bun. I think that's sexy. I've seen her with her hair down a couple of times. It's long and thick with nice curls. She always has these two little ringlets of hair hanging down, even if she is wearing her hair in a bun. She wears what I call business clothes. Always dark material. She usually wears a skirt and a white blouse, with one of those sport jackets made for women over that. It makes her waist and hips stand out nice. Her tits aren't big but they look great. You can tell she doesn't need one of those wonderbras. Tits like that are a wonder in themselves.

She has a sway to her walk. It reminds me of the way women in the movies walk when they are trying to seduce someone. It's really noticeable. She just has a sexy walk. Her tight little ass lifts and bounces every time she takes a step. One day about three weeks ago I saw her going by and her walk was all different. She looked like she was almost staggering. Have you ever seen someone who was drunk, doing their very best to walk like they were sober? That's what she looked like. Ok, I admit that day I watched her for more than a second.

What I saw really pissed me off. She had a bruise under her right cheek, just below the slope of the jaw. She had a compact in one hand and a little makeup brush in the other. She was covering the bruise in a hurry as she walked past my apartment building. She must have been leaving home in a hell of a hurry if she didn't have time to cover that big shiner. She's a pretty girl, so I find it hard to believe she would leave the house without her face on unless there was something wrong. I've had my licks before, and I know that bruise didn't come from slipping on a wet bathroom floor or tripping in heels. Last time I took a shot like that, the guy was trying to knock me out. Looks like a hard right uppercut that didn't quite reach its mark.

I can't stand myself for saying this, but dammit seeing that bruise almost made me cry. God only knows how she felt about it. It pissed me off, and sure enough as she walked out of sight I was sporting a huge hard on. When I get pissed off and get an erection I feel like the most pathetic thing in the world. I don't want to fuck anyone. I just want to crawl up in a hole and die. I'm sure a bunch of high dollar shrinks would slap a label on me in a heart beat and claim I'm some kind of rare find. I think I'm just a real fucking loser.

Here's the bad part about the whole situation. Her boyfriend lives in my building. The next floor up to the right. I can hear him and his buddies partying all the time. And they do party all the time, mind you. I have a big screen tv and I can hear them over it clear as a bell. I never turn it up too loud, but even at higher volume I can always hear them above me. He has these two slack face looking buddies that hang at his place all the time. I can tell they don't work. They're soft all the way around and think they're bad asses. My hands bleed sometimes from the abuse they get at work, and I wouldn't hurt a fly. They've never had to live through any hardships, never had to go hungry. I guess since they wear Abercrombie and listen to gangster rap, it's enough to convince them they are bad asses.

I've been trying to distract myself lately. I watch tv every now and then. Usually I watch The History Channel when they have a show about world war two. Then again when do they not, now that I think about it. I also like Discovery and the classic movie channel. I collect things, too. In my spare time. Over the past couple of years I have started collecting replicas of ancient eastern weapons. Swords, katanas, naginatas, sais. All the names sounded exotic to me. The ninja and samurai weren't just masters at fighting. They were also masters at making.

Two weeks ago I bought on an authentic manriki. It's a hand made chain. The links are all filed down and honed razor sharp. On both ends of the chain is a porcelain handle about four inches long. The warrior wielding it would swing it like a whip, then when it wrapped around the arm, leg or neck of the opponent, he could snap it back and it would cut right down to the bone. Even take the limb or head right off. I got it from one of those pawn shop dummies. He didn't even know what it was. I got it for twenty dollars. I did some searching online, and if this thing is the genuine article it's worth about seven grand.

Every time I look at it, I am convinced it is the real thing. It's really my pride and joy. I can just imagine who held this thing, who used it. Maybe this one was ceremonial or a gift. The porcelain handles have tiny little flowers painted on them. Whatever they used to coat the porcelain is some pretty good shit. Both handles shine like they are wet. The white is clear and clean looking. The blue flowers look like the kind you see on those old Chinese tea sets. I always handle it carefully. It'll cut the shit out of you in a heartbeat.

I've seen her walking by with the boyfriend a few times. I don't think either one of them has a car. Every time I see her I try to distract myself somehow. Today she walked by and I suddenly decided I needed to watch tv. I like this tv. Not so much because it's big and fancy, but because it's big and fancy and it's mine. I went to the mall after work one day looking for a new tv. I was standing in front of this tv looking it over. A smarmy looking sales guy walked up and gave me the routine. He took one look at my dirty work clothes and told me I was welcome to apply for store credit. I pulled a knot of hundreds out of my pocket and asked him how long it would take to have it delivered. Sometimes saying nothing at all is the best response you can give.

So anyway I clicked on the tv. The first thing I see is a weather screen with a huge white blemish in the middle. Great. I can't fucking believe this. Another hurricane is on the way. This is the fourth one recently. I'm just about sick of the whole damned hurricane experience. According to the weather channel it's two days away from the east coast, gaining strength as it goes. Looks like I'm going to miss more work. I hate missing work. Something tells me this hurricane is going to be a huge pain in my ass.

I hear a sudden thumping noise from above me. It's probably the asshole and his friends watching another football game. Seems the only thing they enjoy more than watching a game is yelling at it. I hear another thump, and then hear raised voices. One of them is a woman's voice. I turn off the tv and listen. Two voices, the words muffled. A few words come through loud and clear.

"Goddamnit Eric. I can't take you any more!" The female voice says. She is almost screaming.

"You can and you will. Stop your bitching Lidia." The male voice yells in angry response.

Lidia. Her name is Lidia. Pretty name. More muffled words, sounds like she is crying.

"No hell I won't! Why did you have to hit me? You haven't worked in three weeks and it's my fault? I can't lose my job Eric. I can't and I won...." Her words are cut short by a flat sound. I can hear two or three fast clicking sounds, then a thud. The motherfucker slapped her then she staggered back and fell. I can hear alot of babbling back and forth, both trying to talk over the other. She's crying, he's yelling.

"Don't you dare complain to me. You can't get by without me. You can't wipe your ass without me you stupid bitch. You need me." He screams.

"Eric why do you have to be this way? I can't live with you like this. I love you but goddamn you I fucking hate you." She is crying more than talking now. God that sound hurts so bad.

I hear another sharp sound, and her cries draw out into one long wail. I can picture her lying on the floor on front of him crying. Her black hair splayed about her, her eyes red and puffy with tears. It occurs to me that I've never seen her close enough to tell what color her eyes are. Suddenly I hear loud footsteps and the slam of a door. Her footsteps are clicking down the stairs to the ground floor. Before the entrance door slams shut behind her, I hear her voice clearly.

"I don't need you."

Ch. 2

I've been sitting at my kitchen table for about three hours now. Just thinking. I've given up any attempts to distract myself. The sound of her crying keeps echoing through my head. Her boyfriend's voice is like an angry buzzing in my ears. I've been having some pretty disturbing thoughts for the past few minutes. I know I should feel guilty about even thinking like that. Every time the sound of her sobbing resonates through me I feel like my blood is boiling. Right now I'm having a hard time feeling guilty about anything. I've entertained foolish thoughts like approaching her. Telling her that she can find help in her situation. Telling her she can get out of it and be safe. But I'm a loner, you see. She'll take one look at me, see my eyes and then she will be afraid of me. It's just that way. It's the most frustrating feeling in the world.

I'm going to lie down for a while. It's useless trying to sleep, but I have to at least get some rest. I've always been a restless person, but since their fight I can't think about anything else. I guess I'll try the most dependable distraction known to man. I'll lie here and daydream about pussy.

When I was twenty two I worked with a girl named Sharon. I was working at a small seafood restaurant. She was a hostess and expo. When she wasn't greeting people and seating them she was helping the servers run food to their tables. I was amazed by her the first time I saw her. Have you ever seen a girl with perfect skin? It seems to almost glow. It looks soft beyond description. She had long blond hair. And her eyes. Let me tell you, this girl could hypnotize a man with those eyes. They were a pure crystalline blue. Just the slightest smile and look from those eyes turned my legs to water.

I was working the cook line. I was the new guy so I got the shit detail most of the time. She was nice to everyone, and all the guys were hot for her. She was only seventeen, though. I remember that she never used her 'untouchable' appeal to tease anybody that I ever saw. I thought that was pretty impressive of her. She had a great body and could have had men running around after her with no effort at all. Instead she worked her ass off. She worked after school five days a week and a few hours on Saturdays.

Most of the guys at work were really hot to get into her pants. I heard several of them ask her when she was turning eighteen. She just smiled and told them soon enough. She wasn't buying into their stupid come-ons. Telling them when she turned legal was like declaring open season on young pussy. Not letting them know her birthday was very smart of her. It kept the guys at a safe distance.

She had nice tits. Big and well shaped. Alot of women with big tits have just that, big tits. Size isn't everything. A pair of big sloppy saggy tits doesn't do anything for me. Hers were shaped perfectly. They stood proudly. The slope and fall of her breasts was enough to make me ache to touch them. You could see the shape of her nipples even through her shirt and bra. The girl didn't really flaunt it. She just had it.

Truth be known she was well built all the way around. She reminded me of a really hot softball chick. Well developed legs. Plenty of muscle but still very nice. Her ass was rock solid. Her waist and hips had that violin shape. I was very taken with her, but there was no way in hell I would have told her. She was always nice to me when she would pop in the kitchen long enough to pick up a plate of trays or snag a bite to eat.

One busy Friday night she struck a conversation with me. She was on her break. I was re-stocking my station near the end of my shift. I forget exactly what happened, I was too immersed in watching her. I think we were talking about a movie we both had seen. No, wait. I do remember now. We were talking about music. She told me she liked The Mamas And The Papas. I was surprised she even knew who they were. We chatted for about ten or fifteen minutes. When her break was over she said bye and surprised the shit out of me by giving my her number. The whole time I was trying my damndest not to look at her tits. I know that pisses women off sometimes, and I can understand why. Her tits had a way of bouncing when she moved. It was really hard not to stare at them. I think you could put a Greyhound bus on her chest and those tits would still be standing tall.

I got off work about ten. As I was leaving I got some shitty looks from the other guys. Oh, well. Fuck 'em. I went home and cleaned up. I must have stared at that telephone for an hour before I got the nerve up to call. She answered the phone. I can still remember how the anticipation felt. She erased my anxiety when we started talking. She was just about the nicest person I have ever met. Even to today. Over the next few weeks we talked alot over the phone. We formed a pretty amazing friendship. Even her voice was pretty to me.

I was slowly building up the nerve to ask her out. Nothing that could be considered a date, mind you. I always kept her age in mind. Last thing I wanted to do was hurt this girl by trying to start something between us that simply wouldn't work. I decided I would invite her to the planetarium. It seemed pretty innocent. Not like a club or a bar. Alot of people there. They had laser light shows with themes. One of them was the Pink Floyd laser light show. I had been wanting to see the show, but honestly I didn't want to go alone. When I finally worked up my nerve and asked her I was completely shocked by her response. We were at work, so I expected her to politely decline me.

"Sure, I would love to. I've told my mom all about you. She was wondering why you haven't asked me out yet." She told me.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I told her I didn't want to take anything for granted. That was just a lame way of saying I was too shy to ask until now. She asked me why I had never asked when her eighteenth birthday was. I told her it didn't matter. I was happy to be able to hang out with her. She took her driver's license out and showed it it to me. She was smiling. I looked at the date on the license. She had turned eighteen three weeks before I called her that first time. She was looking at me with this complacent grin.

"My mom's in Mobile until tomorrow night. You want to come over?" She asked.

I think my jaw hit the floor and shattered. I told her a stuttering yes. She hugged me and kissed me. I could feel her tits rub against my chest. I didn't think any off the other guys had seen us, but as I was leaving that night I heard someone behind me mumble.

"Fucker."

Yep, they saw us.

I arrived at her house about eleven. She answered the door wearing pajamas. I thought that was the cutest thing. Then I saw how the snug fitting pajama pants clung to her ass, the word cute didn't come to mind. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples were standing out like perfect cones under the fabric of her pajama top. Next thing I knew, we were making out out on her couch. I started easing my hand inside her shirt. She always had ways of surprising me. She took the shirt off herself and smothered my face in her tits. I felt like I was obliged to show some kind of restraint. I didn't want her to think I was some slobbering kid.

"Suck on them all you want. That's what they're for."

And that's exactly what I did. I gripped and squeezed her tits while I sucked her pert nipples. She moaned and cooed happily. I couldn't believe it but she seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was. She stopped me long enough to pull her pajama pants off. She wasn't wearing any panties. Her pubic hair was a lighter blonde than the hair on her head. I started rubbing her pussy. I slid my finger inside her and she started sucking on my neck.

She stood and led me from the couch to her bedroom. She laid down and tucked a pillow under her head. She didn't say a word. She spread her legs and closed her eyes. I took a long moment to look at her. Her skin, her hair, her hips and stomach. Her breasts and her legs. Even her belly button was arousing. And yes her pussy. Her pussy was so fucking fuckable. I can't think of any other word to describe it. I started licking her pussy. I was surprised by the size of her clit. It was perfectly pink. It was about the size of a pea. I licked it and she jumped. I haven't met a woman since who has such a sensitive clit. I licked her clitoris, sucking it and teasing it. She came like a rocket a few minutes later. I mounted her and slid inside. Her pussy enveloped my cock in intense delirious friction. She pulled me close to her and welcomed my cock. Moments later and I was pulling out of her as I was about to let go.

The words 'I'm sorry that was so short' were about to come from my mouth, but before I could speak she grabbed my cock and began jerking me off furiously. My orgasm seemed to multiply inside me when she touched me. I came like a fire hose. Cum shot onto her stomach and tits. She kept stroking my cock until I was spent. I could barely move, now that I think of it.

"I can tell you're stressed. It's ok." She said softly.

One of the most arousing things I have ever seen was her lying there with a placid look in her eyes, my cum dripping down between her cleavage. She pulled me close to her and we lie there in a big sticky happy mess. We lie there for about an hour then took a shower together. She let me wash her hair. I really enjoyed that. I lathered her with soap head to toe. After we rinsed off I sucked the water from her nipples.

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