The Best Erotic Stories.

Angry Chair
by Stardog Champion

Vic Domenichi was my best friend growing up. Along with Vic, and a couple of other guys who formed our clique, we were pretty much inseparable during our high school years. When we were 15, it was Vic that took the heat when we got busted for blowing up mailboxes that Halloween with firecrackers. He was always the one in our circle of friends that could talk his way out of anything.

One thing Vic unfortunately couldn't talk his way out of was his the paralysis below the waist that he was burdened with. Vic is now 21 and confined to a wheelchair for what probably was going to be the rest of his life. A great deal of guilt over that fact has continued to burden me ever since that fateful night last Summer when the accident happened.

* * * * *

I had dated a girl named Katrina on and off during my last two years of high school and first semester of college. That Christmas, we made the mutual decision that it just wasn't going to work out and decided to break up for good. As we grew apart, I realized that I had made the right decision that she really wasn't the type of person I wanted to grow old with. I started to ask myself why I had even dated her in school, but I kept coming back to the fact that I was that proverbial unquenchable teenager, and Katrina was a pretty damn good fuck. She was also attractive enough that I got a lot of admiration and jealousy from the other guys at school.

When other things started coming together in my life during my first year at the University of Missouri and I realized there were other 'fish' in the sea, I felt a lot more comfortable cutting the strings to my relationship with Katrina.

Sometime during the Summer break between my Sophomore and Junior years of school, I met up with Vic for a weekend at home and we headed out to a party. Vic had broken up with his longtime girlfriend that Spring and when we arrived at the party and I saw Katrina, my ex there, a very bad idea (in hindsight) popped into my head.

I decided to try and fix Katrina up with Vic. After initially being hesitant with the idea, as the night wore on, I could see the two warming towards one another.

For about two months that Summer, Katrina and Vic steadily became an item and seemed to gel quite nicely. Sometime in early August of that year, the wheels suddenly came off the budding relationship when Katrina broke it off without any explanation why.

Vic called me a few days later and seemed to be distraught over the situation but not on the verge of doing anything drastic.

I told him about another party the next weekend that one of our mutual high school friends was throwing and told Vic it would probably be a good place to meet some new women and work the bitterness out of his system over the breakup with Katrina.

Once we arrived that Saturday night, all seemed to flow smoothly for a few hours. We drank, danced and schmoozed every available girl that would give us the time of day and I noticed a rapid improvement in Vic's demeanor.

Almost as quick as his mood improved, suddenly it seemed to regress in one fell swoop. As Vic starred blankly across the crowded backyard, I followed his sightlines through the maze of drunk kids until I laid my eyes on what my buddy was glaring at.

On the other side of the party, I saw Katrina leaning up against another guy, presumably the one she had dumped Vic to start going out with. Right then I got a very queasy feeling in my stomach and I knew I should immediately take some action to get Vic away from the situation.

When he wasn't receptive to my pleads to leave, plan B was maybe to find the prettiest girl I could to dance with Vic in an attempt to possible make Katrina as jealous and angry as Vic was feeling.

For a while, that seemed to work. Vic danced a few slow grooves, actually sloopy slow grooves, with a couple of other girls at the party. I occasionally looked over at Katrina and I could tell she saw Vic there, appearing to have a good time while she was there with her new boyfriend who didn't seem all that interested to take her out and dance. Instead they just stood there against the fence looking completely bored. I could see her bristle when he asked her what was wrong. Here she was with two of her ex boyfriends at a party and they were seemingly having a blast while she was stuck just standing around.

At some point Katrina must have just gotten fed up and tried to leave. The guy she was with evidently didn't want to run on Katrina's schedule and seemed to be resistant to her desire to ditch the party. As Katrina made her way for the backyard gate to leave, her new boyfriend took off after her and the two started yelling at each other, loud enough to bring the party to a halt.

When the guy went to grab a hold off Katrina's arm to keep her from walking away, she angrily snapped her arm back and took off even faster for her car. Something seemed to snap within the guy and he took off after Katrina with a strange look of instability in his eyes.

It was then that the chain of events began happening at a speed to fast to stop. The whole party had grounded to a halt as Katrina and her boyfriend yelled at each other. When Katrina tried yanking away from the burly guy the second time, he dug his fingers into Katrina's elbow joint, literally lifting her into the air as he cruelly twisted her arm behind her back.

Letting out a shriek of intense pain, Katrina was clenched helplessly against the man's chest as he angrily snarled at her. I was so focused on the agonizing scene, that the trace of Vic running past me was only a white blur.

Before I knew it, Vic had jumped on Katrina's new boyfriend's back, causing all three to fall to the ground in a rolling heap. Katrina was able to wiggle herself free but as she limped away from the scene she was holding her arm as if it had been seriously hurt. She yelled incoherently at both boys as they fought each other, over her.

After the rest of the crowd had gotten over the initial novelty of seeing a real brawl at the party, several guys, including myself, moved in to try and pull Vic, and the other guy whose name was Devin, apart.

As we peeled the two drunks away from each other, I got an initial jolt of glee seeing Katrina's new boyfriend bleeding from a nasty gash above his left eye. I smiled down at Vic, trying to think of the right words to congratulate him for such an effective and macho display.

With the other guys trying their best to pull Devin away, I reached down and extended my hand to Vic to help him up to his feet. When my hand closed around his, something in the pit of my stomach told me that the grip just didn't feel quite right. When I clenched my shoulder muscles, trying to pull Vic up, his legs simply didn't move. It was as if he was dead weight on the ground. I then looked into Vic's eyes and an overwhelming urge to cry overtook me when I saw the confused fear darting through my best friend's watering eyes.

* * * * *

Official word came about 7 the next morning. When Vic had jumped on Devin's back and knocked the big guy off balance, Devin's weight had fallen backwards, trapping Vic beneath him at an awkward angle. When the two started rolling around in the drunken scrum, through some cruel stroke of fate, Vic's neck was pinched sideways and his neck was broke.

With Vic's parents, 2 brothers and sister gathered in the hospital waiting room, we were all informed that Vic would probably never walk again.

* * * * *

I spent a lot of time with Vic over the rest of that Summer, at least as much time as I could considering I hard I found it to be around him in that condition. I felt an extreme amount of guilt for Vic's misfortune because I was the one that originally fixed him up with Katrina when I knew full well what kind of girl she was. I also felt an unnerving sense of my own mortality being around someone who had such a virility in life being stricken down the way Vic had.

Vic seemed to be making the most of his situation however. He had began lifting weights, playing wheelchair basketball and was even considering applying to 'run' in our local 10K later in the Fall. I watched Vic go through various stages of denial and acceptance that summer. The angry fits as well as the desire to still make the most out of the hand he was dealt. There were also those gray days of Vic pitying himself, those were by far the worst. Although he didn't talk about it, ever, I could tell there was something festering underneath the surface.

My guess was that Katrina, the girl that he had instinctively tried to go and help as she was having her arm nearly broken at the party, hadn't even done as much as called, visited, or sent a note of 'thank you' to Vic for trying to help her out. There sat my best friend in a wheelchair for the rest of his life because he tried to help a woman in a difficult spot and didn't get as much as a hint of appreciation. I ground my teeth together every night trying to fall asleep, cringing at how it must be killing Vic every time he looked down and saw what had happened to him.

When I left that Fall to head back to the University of Missouri, I said my goodbyes to Vic and promised to see him when I came back for Christmas. He seemed in good sprits when I left him that afternoon in his living room. I even commented on how buff he had gotten from the constant upper body weight lifting.

* * * * *

I went back to college late that August with Vic's fortunes foremost in my mind. After getting back to school and starting my Junior year grind, between trying to get my schoolwork done, working my 25 hours a week and getting plastered on the weekend, I kind of slacked off on the occasional checks of my fallen friend back home to see how he was doing.

That insensitivity and thoughtlessness on my part, made it that much tougher on my consciousness when I returned home for Christmas break. Upon seeing Vic for the first time after I got back, my heart sank right into my belly. He just looked so beaten, both physically and mentally.

The buffness from the weight training that was evident when I last saw him was completely gone and the perkiness he had exuded had been replaced with an indescribable, morose aura.

It didn't help matters that word had spread through town that Katrina and the guy she had left Vic for were setting a wedding date. Apart from the cruel satisfaction I got from imagining the 'fun' her life was going to entail, subjecting herself to being married to that abusive asshole, it tore me apart seeing Vic as a permanent casualty to one of Katrina and her soon to be Husband's violence cycles.

I knew the school Katrina was attending would be letting out for Winter break in a few days as well and I hoped against hope that nothing else would happen.

* * * * *

After spending two straight afternoons with Vic, I beat myself up, continually blaming myself for originally fixing him and Katrina up, for not doing something sooner to stop him from jumping into the fray the night he was hurt and not doing more during the Fall to stay in touch.

As I laid awake in my bed at about 3 in the morning, suddenly a constructive idea finally popped into my head. My drowsy eyes shot open wide as my gaze fixated on the ceiling above me.

Somewhere up there in the attic, there were several boxes of my accumulated junk from growing up; sports trophies, certificates of achievements, outgrown clothes and a couple of well used girly magazines. In the mix with the rest of all those memories was also a series of Polaroids that I had kept as a keepsake from my on and off again relationship with Katrina.

I felt my heart began to thump harder in my chest as the bud of an idea germinated in my head. it wouldn't do anything to help Vic get his ability to walk back or help pay off the medical bills, but it would perhaps give him a reason to look forward to the next day and also a little internal smile from some small level of revenge against that thankless bitch we both used to date.

* * * * *

The next morning after Mom and Dad left for work, I grabbed a big glass of ice tea and headed up into the crawl space that served as our attic to look for the special Christmas surprise Vic and I were going to drop on Katrina. Sure enough, after about an hour of looking around, I found 9 square Polaroid pictures snugly hidden inside my senior yearbook.

As I cracked open the yearbook, I fought back the urge to sneeze as 3 years of accumulated dust tickled my nose. Clearing a place to sit on the cluttered floor, I plopped down and prepared to take a little visual stroll down memory lane. Dropping the nine 3'X3' square images on the floor in front of me and scattering them about so that I could look at all of them at once, a flood of carnal emotions crested in my libido.

Katrina was never a particularly shy girl, in or out of bed. Being the youngest child in her family, she was the type of person that always pandered for attention, especially from guys. The frozen images on the Polaroids in front of me were definite examples of that.

It had started out simply enough when Katrina and I were 17. She always dreamed of being a model, an unreachable goal frankly, and she would often go around constantly flirting and posing, trying to get me to take pictures of her in various forms of undress. It wasn't long until that habit took root in our bedroom. As I looked down at my collection of memories in front of me, there were a few pics of Katrina in her skimpy bras and panties, there were two of her ass proudly displayed right in front of my face and I even snapped off one where my faceless erect cock was straining towards her in the picture.

There were also a couple of Katrina laying on the bed, her mouth completly full of cock as she looked up into the camera's flash with wanton lust. I also was able to snap one off of her standing above me on the bed, stripped naked and pandering for me to take a shot of her tweaking her nipples with one hand and holding her pink vaginal lips far apart with the other.

I couldn't help giggling to myself when I saw the final picture of Katrina laying naked beside me, the obvious traces of my sticky ejaculate clinging to her chin and chest as she laughed for the camera like the lustdrunk girl she was.

I anxiously worked the Polaroids back into order and slapped a rubber band around them, preparing them for the trip over to Vic's so we could lay out our plan.

* * * * *

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA......Holllyyyyyy..fuccckinnnn..shhhiittt..Are these real?" Vic asked, as every muscle that was able to move in his body jiggled joyously.

"She never wanted to get photogenic with you?" I kidded, trying to contain my own evil joy.

"I never had a Polaroid camera....I thought she was just kidding when she said she wanted to be in a porno flick," Vic giggled, a tear of laughter dripping down his cheek.

"The girl can be a hooch at times," I said as I walked into the kitchen to get us both a drink.

"She know you have these Jon?" Vic asked curiously.

"I told her I burned them after we broke up, even showed her some of the ashes of some other pics I burned to make it look like hers," I answered slyly.

"You Dawg," Vic amusedly replied. "So what do you intend to do with them on the net?"

"Not exactly," I answered.

"What then," Vic hesitated. "...Blackmail?"

"Its crossed my mind pal...but when you really get down to it...what does she really have to offer. No money, it frankly doesn't interest me to get any more sexual favors from know after seeing what she's been with and all...hehehe" I retorted sarcastically. "I'll tell you what I will do though...I'd pay 5 bucks to see her reaction when she finds out what we are going to do with them."

Vic looked at me incredulously for a few seconds before replying. "OK...I'll bite...what do you have in mind?"

I took the back of Vic's wheelchair and pushed him through the living room, out the front door and onto the spacious front porch to enjoy an oddly warm mid December afternoon.

Southeast Missouri, where Katrina was going to school, was still in finals and I knew she would probably have to stay until the end of exam week knowing her weak academic prowess. Since it was Thursday, that gave Vic and I only 24 hours or so to get our plan hatched before Katrina returned home.

"What kind of 'little impression" are you talking about Jon?" Vic asked, desperate to find out where I was headed with this. I handed Vic one of the beers I had grabbed from the fridge and popped the top for him while I leaned in beside him and dropped the photos down on the table in front of us.

"Ohhh...I don't know...I thought maybe we could just show Katrina's mom and dad as well as her soon to be fiancé just how the light of their lives has been working her way through school..sort of a present to them for standing behind her so faithfully.. you know," I said, laying out my plan slowly.

I had nothing against Katrina's folks, they had always been relatively nice to me. They couldn't help it if their daughter had turned out to be a filthy, dirty, disgusting, brutal, skanky, bottom-feeding, trashcan whore. I had spent about half a year seeing Vic in that shape, brooding over the unfairness of it all and I was desperate for something to at least even up the pain meter a little. As I sat there on the porch, sipping Budweiser with my friend, I looked into his calm blue eyes and saw a slight twinkle of intense light as we laid out exactly what we were going to do....

* * * * *

Friday, Dec. 19th was a cloudy and frigid day, totally opposite of how the previous day had been when Vic and I sat on his front porch and hatched our plan. As we sat in my car at the far end of Meadowbrook Lane, waiting for the postal service to finish it's appointed rounds, we both gazed periodically at the two stuffed business envelopes resting on my dashboard.

One was formally addressed to the Kingstons, (Katrina's parents), while the other simply had five words printed on the outside of the envelope, "These are for you honey". That package was going to go to Devin, Katrina's fiancé.

At about 1:45, the US Mail did its daily run through Meadowbrook and then the small red, white and blue jeep disappeared around the corner. I started my car and slowly eased up to the Kingston's mailbox, casually dropping our are package on top of the other mail.

"One to go, " I laughed heartily to Vic as I hit the gas and pulled away.

Weaving my way through the suburban streets of St. Louis, I grabbed the second care package from the dash. I handed it took Vic who took it in his weak grip. I looked over at him as he clutched the naked pictures of Katrina in the package that was going to be a special gift for her future husband. Vic's face looked just like a small child's who was entering Disney World for the first time.

"Devin lives about three miles from here...son of a bitch doesn't even work so I'm sure he's probably home waiting for Katrina to get back...probably on his fifth joint of the day too..." I said more to myself than to Vic.

"Won't he be surprised," Vic replied cockily.

I drove by Devin's small apartment first and saw that his Camaro was in fact sitting in the driveway. He was definitely home, he never went anywhere without his red and white, 8 cylinder pride and joy. I passed Devin's place, bringing my car to a stop about 100 yards down the road with a patch of woodline blocking the view from his apartment to where I parked.

"'s what we'll do Vic," I said softly, feeling as if I was a prisoner preparing to make a run for it. "I'm gonna make my way through that patch of woods there, sneak over to his car, then I'm going to put the envelope underneath his wiper blades. When you see me cut through the brushline on the way's Devin's phone number right here...dial it on my cell phone and tell him in your best disguised voice that he really ought to go take a look at his car."

"You sure you'll be OK Jon...what if he's looking out the window?" Vic askled worriedly.

"Chance I'll take pal...besides we gotta hurry! I wanna get back to Katrina's parents' place before her Father gets home around 3 and checks the mail."

* * * * *

My parents and I had thought seriously about my enlistment in the Army after I finished high school but luckily I was accepted to the University of Missouri and I didn't have to enjoy those three years of excitement. As I tiptoed through the brushline of Devin's property, bent at the waist, doing my best stealth impersonation, I eased up to his sturdy muscle car and proceeded to plant my special delivery.

Placing the envelope as gently as I could under the wiper blade on the passenger side, I anxiously looked up at the window of the apartment, counting my blessings that no one was looking out.

As I turned and darted back through the woods, for just a moment feeling the adrenaline pumping through my entire body, I kind of regretted not going through with the Army option. The sensation of doing something with a clear purpose in the face of real danger was rather addicting.

Bursting through the woodline and tripping my way back to my car, I reached my hand out to take the knob and climb back in. Before I tried opening it, I saw that Vic still had the receiver up to his ear, smiling broadly as he talked to the Devin on the other end. I stood outside the car, collecting my breath and waited for Vic to finish up his short conversation.

He looked up at me through the driver's side glass and gave me a wry smile as he clicked the phone off. Watching as Vic hung the phone back up, I opened the car door and eased back into my seat.

"Did he buy it?" I asked breathlessly.

"I dunno," Vic replied honestly." He sounded as high as a kite. I told him cryptically that he'd better go check his Camaro. He seemed to perk up when I mentioned his car..hehehe."

"All..right, let's wait a second, give Devin some time to get his shoes on and get out to the car...then we'll do our best to inconspicuously drive by and see how our little package has been received."

As we turned around and headed back the other way, past Devin's, Vic and I realized we could have driven a tank down the road and the asshole probably wouldn't have noticed.

Easing by at 20mph, Vic and I rubbernecked to our right and watched as Devin digested the care package I had dropped off five minutes earlier. Straining our necks to look, we saw that Devin was sitting on the hood of his fire engine red Camero with his back to us. The white envelope the pictures had been put in was laying in a mangled heap on the driveway and Devin was shuffling the Polaroids in his meaty hands like a confused dealer shuffling a deck of cards.

Dangling from his left hand was the short and too the point note that I had attached to the contents of the package. It read....

Dear Sir,

It appears you and well as about 500 other guys, have something in common. Did Katrina say the same thing to you as she told me, my brother, my next door neighbor and the pizza delivery guy...'You might not be first big boy, but you can certainly be next'...!"

Speeding off once we were out of sight, anxious to make our way back to Katrina's parents house before her dad got home, Vic and I both giggled vociferously in the knowledge that the guy that had caused Vic's paralysis was in the process of seeing the woman he was preparing to marry do some of her best work on cheap square film.

Crisscrossing my way back through the suburban neighborhoods, I was lucky I didn't get a speeding ticket busting my tail to get back to the Kingston's residence before Katrina's Father got in from the insurance agency he worked at to check the day's mail.

Turning back onto Meadowbrook Lane, Vic and I quietly eased into the same parking space we had waited an hour or so earlier for the postman to pass. The Kingston house sat silently in the stillness of the cool afternoon, almost as if it was waiting for its inhabitants to return home as well.

Vic and I fought the gnawing temptation to continuously turn our heads to see if some old biddy was watching us from her window or if a cop was making his daily rounds through the affluent neighborhood.

The DJ on the radio came on to introduce song and in the process of doing so, also said it was 3 o' clock. "Poor guy should be home any minute," I said, my voice tinged with guilty excitement.

" think this is right...I mean the S.O.B. hasn't done anything to us...he can't help it if his daughter is a complete nut case," Vic said, playing devil's advocate.

"I know...I know," I replied reluctantly. "I feel as guilty as shit about it Vic...but you know, the girl doesn't have a damn thing to her name and as we've both seen first hand, she doesn't have a conscience either. If it wasn't for the blind kindness of her folks paying her tuition, she'd be down on the streets downtown blowing guys for a buck tonight."

We both shared a guarded laugh as we watched and waited for Larry Kingston's gray Audi to slip down the street.

Sure enough, being as predictable and meticulous as the insurance agent he was, at a quarter after three Larry Kingston swung his car onto the asphalt incline of his driveway. After wearily pulling himself of his car, lugging his black briefcase out behind him, Katrina's father slowly trogged down the steep incline, making a slow beeline for the newspaper and mailbox planted beside the street.

I could feel the barometric pressure inside my head drop noticeably as Vic and I collectively held our breath watching Larry Kingston take step after slow step, moving towards the surprise of his life.

Just like the businessman he was, Larry pulled his copy of the Wall Street Journal out first, followed by the St. Louis Post Dispatch. Both Vic and I sighed nervously when it began to look as if Larry was going to completely ignore the mailbox.

Suddenly, a lightbulb seemed to go off over top of Larry Kingston's graying head before he took a step back and absently reached for the mail box opening and pulled out a handful of accumulated sale circulars and bills along with one special, personal insert.

Lugging the handful of mail in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Larry made his way up the steep driveway. He seemed to pay no attention to the daily postal haul in his hand until about halfway up the walkway. Suddenly, his already slow pace creeped to that of a sloth.

"Think he saw it?" Vic asked.

"I think he's on the hook pal," I answered with more than a hint of quiet excitement.

Right before Larry got to the foot of the front porch's steps, he stopped dead in his tracks. I felt eerily like I was inside his head as he studied the strange white envelope in his hand.

The same words Larry Kingston was reading on the outside of the package, echoed in my head as he continued to glare at the greeting.


Foreboding words I know, but if your going to turn somebody's world upside down, might as well go whole hog.

Larry turned and sat down on the porch steps, his gaze fixated on the outside of the white package. An instant later, his small fingers disappeared into the glued fold of the envelope, ripping the package apart.

In the process of ripping our special delivery open, all the other mail in his hands fell to the ground at his feet in a messy cluttered heap. Unfazed by the pile on the ground, Larry pulled the typed note out of the envelope, bringing several of the photos out with it.

He seemed to recoil as if a snake had been inside the package , jumping backwards slightly as the four photos that Vic and I had included fell to the ground. Larry briefly seemed torn as to what to look at first, the folded note in his hand or the scattered Polaroids mixed in now with the sale circulars laying at his feet.

His curiosity over the photos eventually won out. Laying the folded note down beside him on the stair, Larry reached down and gathered the pictures that had fallen out of the envelope.

Vic and I watched from a few hundred feet down the street as Mr. Kingston literally looked as if his mental plug had been pulled out of socket. He sat there motionless except for the eerily slow shaking of his head back and forth as the reality of what was contained on that film registered in his shocked brain.

Vic and I both erupted with a burst of guilty laughter as we focused intently on Larry Kingston's shocked expression. Thankfully our car windows were up to keep out the late Fall cold or the whole neighborhood would have heard us roaring.

We sat there for the better part of 20 minutes watching Katrina's father sit in disbelief on the stairway to his porch, shaking his head occasionally, ignoring everything else going on around him.

Almost as if we were watching a scene take place in slow motion, Larry reached over and unfurled the type written note we had enclosed as well.

"Look at his lips moving Vic...can you believe it...he's so out of it...he's reading the note out loud," I said incredulously.

I had the contents of that note memorized in my head;

Hey Ole' Pal,

Before your lovely and beautiful daughter returned home from college...along with her semester grades, just thought I'd be kind enough to share with you what she's been up to instead of studying. If your worried about sweet Katrina flunking need to you can see, she's got PLENTY of other talents!!

Thanks Mr. Kingston, Concerned Citizen!!

Katrina's Father lifted his creaky body up and turned robotically towards the front door to make his way up the steps. He paid special attention to fold up the photos inside the note and slowly disappeared into the house. As Vic and I were leaving, we passed Katrina's mom on her way home from work as well...Oh to be a fly on the wall...


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