Playing with Bad Boys

The DJ at the reception had a perfect record, Shannon thought: every song he'd played was one she hated. Of course, she hadn't wanted to come to the wedding in the first place, but since it was Robert's old college roommate who was getting married, she really didn't have an option.

Where was her husband anyway, she wondered? Ah, there he was over by the bar, deep in conversation with some guy she didn't know. "This is worse than going to somebody else's high school reunion," she thought morosely.

"Hey, PK!" a female voice yelled from the doorway, and Shannon's head shot up in surprise. Looking around she spotted a young woman her own age with a drink in her hand.

"Tracy!" she squealed. "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in forever!" The two young women embraced excitedly; then Tracy turned toward the man who'd accompanied her.

"Hey, Darren, this is Shannon, my best friend forever from back in high school. Shannon, this is Darren, my boyfriend."

As Tracy made the introductions, Shannon looked the young man over with interest. He was a little over six feet tall, with jet black hair combed back from his face. His jaw was covered in dark stubble, and a silver earring flashed from one ear. Unlike most of the men at the reception, Darren was clad in tight black jeans and a black leather bomber jacket worn over a black t-shirt. "Tracy's found herself a bad boy," Shannon thought enviously.

The couple joined Shannon at her table and the two women began to talk animatedly, while Darren ignored them and scanned the surroundings in amused contempt. It quickly became apparent to Shannon that Tracy had already hit the bar several times, judging by how loudly she was talking, but Shannon was just glad to see a familiar face in the throng.

When their conversation paused, Darren took advantage of the opportunity. He turned to Tracy and pointed at Shannon. "You said her name was Shannon. Why'd you call her 'PK' earlier?"

Tracy laughed a little too loudly. "Because she's a Preacher's Kid," she said, "and we never let her forget it."

The truth was that there was no way anyone, least of all Shannon, would ever forget that her father was the minister of a Methodist church in suburban Philadelphia. His position meant that she was expected to behave as a role model for others. But like so many offspring of religious figures, she responded by rebelling every chance she got in every way that she could find, to her parents' unending dismay.

In school, despite being bright and quick to learn, she performed poorly and was a constant disciplinary problem. By the age of fourteen she was already sneaking out of the house to meet up with the type of boys of which her parents did not approve. She experimented with pot and alcohol, but fortunately did not have a tendency to addiction. She was similarly lucky with sex: a pregnancy scare early on drove home the importance of contraception, and although she continued to be sexually active, she always made her partners use protection.

Her parents were not aware of just how loose her morals were, but they despaired of the crowd she ran with, especially the boys she dated. "Why can't you find a nice young man?" her mother asked on more than one occasion, but her attempts to set her daughter up with dates she considered more suitable were met with open defiance.

It was in Shannon's junior year of high school that an event altered the direction of her life. Her boyfriend at the time had arrived to pick her up for a date, but when Shannon walked out to his car she found another girl in the front seat. Despite her date's fervent assertions that he was just giving the other girl a ride, Shannon flew into a jealous rage and refused to go, retreating to her room to sulk. Later that night she was stunned to get a phone call with the news that her boyfriend and the other girl had been killed in an automobile accident.

Even though they hadn't liked the boyfriend, Shannon's parents insisted that she go to the funeral. As she sat in the pew during the service, she felt a welter of emotions: sorrow at the boy's death, guilt at the angry thoughts she'd had that night, and most of all fear at how close she'd come to losing her own life.

That last emotion caused her to reexamine her lifestyle and make significant changes. Still a rebel, she nevertheless began to keep her defiance in check. At school she started to focus on her studies, and even got a summer job to bring in some income. She also toned down her partying, being especially careful around drugs and alcohol. As her parents watched their daughter's transformation, they agreed that the accident, tragic as it was, must have been an act of divine intervention.

Thanks to her innate intelligence and the work that she had put into her last year-and-a-half of high school, Shannon was able to score high enough on the placement test to get into the Community College of Philadelphia. She began commuting to the main campus, working toward a degree in Business Administration.

Emboldened by the changes he saw in his daughter's behavior, Shannon's father began to encourage her to take part in some of the activities for singles that his parish offered. Although she showed little enthusiasm, her father went so far as to introduce her to Robert Cunningham, a young man in his late twenties who'd begun attending church there.

Robert was tall and clean-cut, with wavy brown hair. Although he was handsome enough, Shannon was only mildly attracted. He was far too preppy and conventional for a young rebel attracted to bad boys. But her attitude changed after she learned that the quiet young man was an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Numerous movies and television shows filled her head with images of danger and derring do, and her interest in him grew accordingly. Robert, in turn, was entranced by the attractive young woman, and the fact that she seemed to share his attitudes and values only increased his desire.

Soon the two of them were a couple, and Shannon's parents could hardly contain their joy that their prodigal daughter had returned to the fold. By the time Shannon graduated from Community College, she and Robert were engaged.

"And now we're living happily ever," Shannon told Tracy. Her friend instantly picked up on the sarcasm in Shannon's voice.

"So where is your hubby, anyway?" she asked Shannon

"You mean SpongeBob SquarePants?" Shannon replied with barely concealed contempt.

"What did you call him?" Tracy asked with a giggle.

"SpongeBob SquarePants," Shannon repeated. "I call him that because he's a total square and he's sponging up all the fun out of my life!" she said bitterly, and Tracy couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, Shannon, I thought you'd married a cross between the Lone Ranger and Eliot Ness!" she teased.

Her words clearly provoked Shannon. "It's more like I married a CPA!" she said spitefully. "No, that's not fair -- an accountant would be more exciting than Robert. I don't know what he does-- he never talks about his work. And when he comes home, all he wants to do is relax and hang around the house. There's no excitement in my life, no fun at all."

She was about to say more when she spotted her husband heading their way. Robert had been talking on his cellphone, and now he had an apologetic look on his face. Before he could speak, however, Shannon introduced him to Tracy and her date. "Tracy was my best friend in high school," she said, and Tracy grinned.

Robert shook hands and then turned back to Shannon. "Honey, I'm really sorry but we're going to have to make an early evening of it. I'm on call tonight and something has come up at work."

Shannon had been none too excited about the wedding reception, but the idea of spending another night at home watching television just added to her foul mood. Before she could respond, however, Tracy intervened. "You don't have to take her home, Robert. Darren and I can give her a lift. Let her hang with us for a while."

Robert looked at Tracy uncertainly; Shannon hadn't told him much about her high school days, but his impression of Tracy wasn't wholly positive. He wondered how much the young woman had had to drink, although her boyfriend seemed sober enough. But something about him made Robert uneasy. As he hesitated, Shannon chimed in, "Come on, Robert, I really don't want to sit around the house all by myself on a Saturday night. When the reception is over, I'll catch a ride back with Tracy and Darren."

"Alright," he said finally, "but it'll probably be pretty late when I get in, so don't wait up for me, Honey."

With that he kissed her and then went to pay his respects to the bride and groom. As soon as the door closed behind him, Shannon turned back to Tracy with a look of gratitude on her face. "Thanks, girlfriend. I would have screamed if I'd had to spend another night at home. Let's go get another drink."

Before they could do so, Darren spoke up. "You don't really want to hang around this morgue, do you? Let's go somewhere and have some fun."

"Yeah," Tracy enthused, her eyes shining, "let's blow this place and go find a little excitement."

Shannon hesitated momentarily -- this wasn't exactly what she'd told Robert they'd do. But then she dismissed her reservations. "If he's gonna go off and play G-man, there's no reason why I can't go out and have a good time for a change."

As the three of them went outside, Shannon was surprised to see Darren and Tracy head for a motorcycle. "I haven't ridden on one of those in years!" she exclaimed. "Can we all fit on it?"

"Sure," Tracy said enthusiastically. "You get behind Darren and I'll sandwich you in."

"What about helmets?" Shannon asked.

Darren laughed. "Helmets are for sissies."

He swung his leg over the bike and then turned around to stare openly at Shannon as she hiked up her skirt and climbed on behind him. It only added to the naughtiness of what she was doing, and she felt a little thrill shoot through her at the idea this bad boy might find her attractive.

As soon as Tracy had snugged in behind her, Darren took off, revving the powerful engine and peeling away from the wedding party. When he took a sharp turn at high speed, Shannon squealed involuntarily in a mixture of fear and excitement, clinging tightly to the sinewy frame in front of her. Darren turned to give her a knowing grin, and Shannon wished again that her husband was more like him.

By the time they got where Darren was taking them, the combination of the engine's vibrations and the lean male body clutched so closely to her had begun to work on Shannon's libido. But as she swung off the bike, she reminded herself somewhat regretfully that Darren belonged to Tracy.

When the three of them entered through the below-street-level door, Shannon realized their destination was a dance club. The pounding music and flashing lights immediately took her back to her wild younger days, and she almost skipped across the floor as they made their way through the semi-darkness.

Tracy immediately headed for the bar. "Hey, I wanna do some shots. How about you guys?"

Before Shannon could answer, Darren grabbed her hand and leaned over to speak into her ear above the noise. "Wanna try something way better than booze?" he asked forcefully. "You'll like it, I promise."

Shannon pulled back and looked into his eyes. They seemed to bore into her, and she found that she wanted to prove herself to him. "OK, what is it?"

He grinned. "Allow me introduce you to Molly."

When Shannon looked at him in confusion, he did something quick and supple, and suddenly he was holding two pastel-colored tablets in the palm of his hand. As she watched him, he took one of them, popped it in his mouth and downed it. She stared at him a moment more, then made her decision and swallowed her own tab. "You're going to love Molly," he laughed, and she felt as though the two of them were conspirators. Then he turned toward the bar, corralled Tracy and yelled to the two of them, "Come on, let's dance."

The three of them squeezed their way into the crowd and began dancing together. At one point Shannon leaned in to yell into Darren's ear. "What about Tracy, doesn't she like Molly?" He shook his head in the negative. "Booze is her thing," he yelled back, and sure enough Tracy disappeared again only to reappear shortly clutching another shot glass in her hand.

After dancing a while, Shannon began to feel a sense of warmth and well-being come over her. The music seemed to mesh with her mellow mood, and the rhythms of the lights blended with the motion of her body as she danced to the driving beat. She crowded closer to Darren and Tracy, and the three of them felt like one being to her. The sensation was amazing, unlike anything she'd felt before.

After a while she vaguely noticed that Tracy had found a vacant chair and proceeded to pass out. Darren went to check on her, and Shannon felt a slight sense of loss. But he quickly reappeared and now began to devote all his attention to Shannon. A feeling of euphoria came over her, and as the music flowed on, she wished the night would never end.

Sometime later she groggily watched as Darren picked up Tracy's inert body and threw it over his shoulder. Then he took Shannon's hand and led her out with him to his motorcycle. He propped Tracy on the seat in front of him and drooped her over the handlebars; then he motioned to Shannon to swing on behind him and fired up the big bike.

They could have ridden for minutes or hours; Shannon had no sense of time. All she was aware of was the rush of the wind, the vibrations coming up through the seat and the warmth of the body in front of her. Finally they came to a stop at an apartment building somewhere in the city, and then Darren was carrying Tracy again as Shannon followed. Once the three of them were inside the apartment door, he unceremoniously flopped the unconscious woman onto the couch.

Shannon came up behind him and wrapped herself around him, still swaying to the music in her head. Darren turned and looked at her hungrily, and Shannon instantly felt a matching heat within her. Without a word he pulled her into the bedroom and began kissing her hotly. She ran her hand over the front of his jeans and then began frantically tugging at his belt. He began pulling at her clothes as well, and in their haste they tumbled onto the unmade bed. He brushed some dirty clothes onto the floor and then continued to undress her. Both of them were desperate to feel the other's body against them. As soon as they were both nude, they began touching, licking and biting each other with a feral hunger.

Normally it took Shannon a lot of foreplay to arouse her fully, but now she felt an immediate and almost unbearable need to have him deep inside her. She moaned and twisted her body until he was between her thighs, then arched her back so that his surging cock found her pussy and slid inside. She was so wet that he penetrated her to the hilt in a single motion.

She lay back and began to moan, enjoying sensations that seemed simultaneously familiar and unique. Even as she thrilled at the pleasure of his penetration, a strange lassitude came over her. Instead of pumping her hips to increase the friction on her "special" spot, she felt content to have his cock slide around inside her. The feeling of his body sliding against her was exquisite; she wanted it never to end.

At times they rolled over and she found herself on top; then, after a while he would pull her back under him. It seemed to go on and on, and Shannon vaguely wondered how he could last so long. But she felt no impatience or urgency for an orgasm; instead, she reveled in the feelings flowing over her in sensual waves. At one point he reached over and grabbed a bottle of water. When he handed it to her, she drank from it eagerly, all the while continuing to writhe against him in her desire to maintain their intimate contact.

Finally, just as she was beginning to feel exhausted, his tempo increased and he began to pump into her with greater power. She felt herself caught up in his urgency and pulled her legs back further, opening herself completely for him. She felt her pulse pounding and the pressure in her pussy building to an unsustainable high. Then she heard herself screaming, "Oh yes, oh yes, oh fuck me, oh yes, ohhhh!" and she came and came and came. It was as if the whole long session had somehow built into a tsunami that swept her up and carried her away, and she was caught up in an orgasm like she had never experienced before.

When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Darren pulling on his clothes. She lifted herself up on her elbows to stare at him groggily. "That was incredible," she said. "It felt like we made lover forever. Just how long did it last, anyway?"

He glanced at his watched and smirked at her. "About two hours," he said.

Her mind balked at that. "No! We were fucking for two solid hours?"

He gave her a sly grin. "I told you you'd like Molly."

She slumped back down on the bed, cupping her pussy in her hand. "I will never be the same," she said in exhaustion.

Then the implications of what he'd just told her sank in. "What time is it?" she asked apprehensively.

"Nearly two," he said over his shoulder.

She gasped. "Two o'clock? Omigod, I've got to get home!"

By the time she had frantically pulled on her clothes, Darren was waiting for her. As they hurried through the living room to the apartment door, Shannon noticed Tracy still passed out on the couch. "Thank God for that!" she thought guiltily, not wanting to face the girlfriend she had just betrayed.

The trip to her house took only fifteen minutes, but to Shannon it felt like an hour. As they rode, she desperately tried to concoct some plausible excuse to explain to her husband why she was so late, but she still wasn't thinking clearly and could come up with nothing.

When Darren pulled up in front of Shannon's home, she hastily swung off the bike. She wanted to say something to him, but her thoughts and emotions were so jumbled that all she could do was mumble, "Thanks, I . . . just, thanks." He grinned and quickly pulled away from the curb with a wave.

Then, as she turned toward the house, the fear she'd been suppressing really hit her. She did her best to unlock the door quietly, hoping desperately that Robert would be asleep. If she could just somehow slip into bed without waking him, she thought, maybe she could come up with some excuse in the morning.

But, to her surprise, when she peeked in the bedroom Robert wasn't there. She thanked her father's God for this undeserved blessing and hastily tore off her clothes in the dark, hiding them in the bottom of the laundry basket. She wanted to get a shower but she dared not take the time in case Robert caught her and realized how late she'd been out. Instead she threw on her nightgown and dove into bed, heaving a deep sigh of relief at her close call.

Just how lucky she was became clear when she heard Robert's key in the door only a few minutes later. Suddenly, a frightening thought crossed her mind: "What if he wants to make love?" She'd worn her panties to bed and stuffed tissues in them to keep from leaking on the sheets, but nothing would save her if he began groping down there.

Then it came to her: the best way to forestall such a catastrophe was to take the initiative herself, not with passion but anger. So when he tiptoed into the bedroom, she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. "Where in the hell have you been?" she stormed at him so fiercely that he involuntarily took a step back.

"I told you," he stammered, "I had to go out on business."

"You've used that excuse too many times before," she snapped back. "I'm beginning to think you're seeing someone."