The Bully Pt. 01

Growing up in a chaotic, brutal family, I was always comfortable resorting to violence in order to resolve conflict. As a kid I got into a lot of fights, losing just as often as I won. I was large for my age and wasn't afraid to throw my weight around, which actually probably prevented a few fights from even happening.

When I was sixteen a new kid joined our High School. John was two months younger than me and I took an instant dislike to him. He was a good looking guy, and being a new student he always had girls around him. I was probably acting out of jealousy, but a couple of weeks after he joined the school I had a run in with him, and ended up kicking his ass. I was a couple of inches taller than him, and outweighed him by thirty pounds or so, in addition to having had the experience of being in multiple fights. Most of my class witnessed the beat-down, and after I walked away several girls helped him up and consoled him. After that day I picked on him relentlessly, kicking his ass several more times over the next year or so, although much of the time he just ran away.

My best friend Billy was a student at the local Karate Dojo, and informed me that John had started training there. I thought it was funny and would jump him from time to time, taunting him about his martial-arts training. Several months elapsed and the first thing I noticed was that John appeared taller. I wasn't sure if it was his improved posture, as his self-confidence increased, or if he had undergone a growth-spurt. However, having already established my physical superiority over him, he fled the scene whenever I chased after him.

I turned eighteen as a senior in High School, and being the proud owner of a used Honda Accord, started dating this girl in my class. Walela, or Lela as she preferred to be called, was a month older than me, a dark-skinned, black-haired beauty, who was a quarter Cherokee, a Native American Indian Tribe. We were both sexually inexperienced, having made out just a few times, despite spending much of our time together. As our relationship blossomed, Lela asked me if she could wear my Letterman Jacket to school. In the United States, this particular article of clothing is worn in High School and College to represent school and team pride. I had earned mine on the Lacrosse Team, and allowed Lela to wear it to school, to signify our status as a couple, which is a very common occurrence in High School.

I think most of us would agree that our first time being in love was special, but I fell especially hard for Lela and I knew that I would eventually marry her. In fact we talked about it on numerous occasions, and as our relationship progressed Lela used the promise of matrimony to highlight the importance of her virginity.

"That is the greatest gift that a woman can give a man," she told me on more than one occasion. "And I want you to take mine on our wedding night."

Much to my annoyance, Lela was also friends with John, and they were study partners as they were enrolled in some of the same advanced placement classes. Like most eighteen year old males, I possessed a jealous streak, and it often surfaced when Lela hung out with John. For her part, Lela seemed to enjoy my jealous outbursts, viewing them as affirmation of my love for her, and after a few months of us being a couple, she started to stoke my fire when it came to my feelings towards John. Lela would make random comments about John, knowing that they pissed me off. When she complimented his good manners, or his taste in clothing, I would immediately respond by getting angry, and Lela would get her much needed validation. I would react by taking it out on John whenever I saw the little punk, and Lela asked me to leave him alone on several occasions.

Of course, I ignored her, and continued to make John's life miserable, even going so far as to go over to his house and threaten him, while his parents weren't there. Shortly after Lela got her driver's license, she began to be a lot more independent, and started to spend even more time with John. I knew that they were just friends, but it still bugged me, and when Lela was invited to John's eighteenth birthday party, I tried to intervene. On the day of John's birthday, as she was getting ready, I allowed my jealousy to get the better of me.

"Lela, why do you hang out with that pussy?" I asked. "Everyone at school will think you guys are fucking, now that he is eighteen."

"We are just friends, Mark," Lela said quietly. "Although now that he is of legal age, maybe I will give him a blow-job for his birthday," she taunted me, fueling my jealousy.

"I don't want you to go tonight," I said firmly. "Stay home with me."

Lela was adamant that she was going to attend her friend's birthday party, and we ended up having a big argument about it. Once it became apparent that she was going, I stayed home, stewing in my juices as Lela took an Uber to John's house. Around eleven o'clock that night, she texted me to see if I could give her a ride home, and I drove over there to pick her up. When I arrived the front door was open so I let myself in, and followed the sound of music coming from the back yard. The party was winding down, with all of the under eighteens having left, and about six High School seniors remaining, two guys and four girls, including my girlfriend.

John and Lela were over by the fire pit, engrossed in conversation, and they didn't even know I had arrived. I had been wallowing in self-pity all evening, and as I saw them together my jealousy surfaced and before I knew it, I was consumed with rage. I approached them rapidly from behind, grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on, which happened to be a stainless-steel ice-bucket, and hit John as hard as I could on the back of the head. John fell forward and slumped to his knees, dazed and unable to defend himself. Taking advantage of his disorientation, I dropped the ice-bucket, and rained a few blows down on him, causing him to fall from his kneeling position to the ground. Lela was trying to get me to stop, but I pushed her away roughly, and she also stumbled to the ground. Grabbing John by the hair, I pulled him up onto his knees, and as he struggled to gain awareness of his surroundings, I threatened him.

"Did you get your birthday blow-job you little pussy?" I shouted at him, as the small gathering of High School students watched on, too fearful to intervene.

Emboldened by his lack of pushback, I threatened to make him suck my cock, and I pulled his face into my crotch and held it there. I didn't have any homosexual tendencies, and was only interested in humiliating John, but as I ground my crotch into his face, I developed an erection. As the High School seniors looked on, I made a big show of unzipping my jeans as I continued to threaten the kneeling, still-dazed man. I never made John blow me, but I did wipe my cock-head across his lips and nose, just to prove I could have. Lela was very pissed at me, and was quite vocal about it.

"Go home, Mark," she said firmly. "You are not welcome here. I will get an Uber later, after you have calmed down."

A few days went by, and as the story of my domination of John spread around the High School, it seemed to get exaggerated with every retelling. Random students would approach me and ask me if I had really butt-fucked John in front of his mom. It was ridiculous really, but I just nodded and confirmed every crazy rumor.

One night after Lela and John had been studying together over at her house, I intercepted the two of them as they walked to her car. Even as I approached John, with my fists clenched and my posture signifying my intended aggression, he seemed different. The first thing I noticed was that he was definitely taller. He had bulked up too, presumably from the physical demands of his martial-arts training. As I stormed up his driveway, he made no attempt to run from me, but rather stood his ground, adopting a basic defensive Karate stance. I immediately began to throw punches, and while I occasionally made contact, he managed to deflect most of them, and actually struck me a few times in the ribs and kidneys with his fist. Lela was screaming at us to stop fighting, and while I didn't feel like I was getting my ass kicked, I was quite relieved when the next-door neighbor came up to us and pulled us apart. I had expended a lot of energy with my ineffective strikes and was panting to get my breath as the neighbor stood between us.

"Let's go, Lela," I instructed my girlfriend. "I'll deal with you later, John," I added in a threatening manner.

"You leave, Mark," Lela said in a hushed tone. "What are you even doing here? We were just studying."

I didn't want my hatred of John to interfere with the relationship with my girlfriend, so I ended up leaving the scene, and heading home. Lela ignored my texts that night, although in the morning she allowed me to pick her up and run her to school which was our normal routine. When I got to school, I noticed the strange looks from a few of my classmates, and when I ran into my group of buddies, they informed me that word around the school was that John and I had got into a fight, and that he had got the better of me. Peer pressure is a very strong motivator when you are eighteen years old, and humiliated by the prospect that the majority of my school class believed that John had won our fight, I went gunning for him. I caught up with him at lunchtime, on the basketball courts, and even though our last encounter had been a close call, I challenged him to a fight.

John seemed very relaxed as I called him out, and as he removed his shirt, I questioned the wisdom of my decision. John had packed on at least twenty pounds over the last few months, most of it apparently muscle. Now that I could no longer rely on my brute strength and weight advantage to physically dominate him, I tried to use the element of surprise, swinging a wild punch, as he handed his shirt to one of his friends.

A sucker-punch is never the favored way to win a fist-fight, but I was going to do whatever it took to change the perception that John had kicked my ass. He had obviously taken his martial-arts training seriously, because not only did he block my punch, but as my energy was deflected to the side, he thrust his fist forward, and connected with a solid blow to my ribs. Gasping for breath, I lunged desperately at him, a move that he countered by stepping aside and elbowing me in the back of my head.

John thoroughly embarrassed me that day, easily beating my ass in front of most of our peers. He took his time too, pummeling me all over my upper body, until I was in tremendous pain, before sweeping my legs from under me. After I hit the floor, he kicked me a few times, his anger at having been bullied by me for so long, outweighing the self-restraint that martial-arts training instills in you.

Finally, in a considerable amount of pain, and under the relentless assault of his kicks, I pleaded for him to stop. It was the lowlight of my High School experience, and as I held onto his legs to prevent him from kicking me any more, John bent over and spat on me. Emboldened by the cheers from the crowd, who were witnessing the changing of the guard at our High School basketball courts, John grabbed me by the hair and bashed my face into the hard surface of the sports court, knocking me unconscious.

When I awoke, I was in hospital, and while my injuries were not life-changing, it was apparent to my entire High School that John had totally dominated me physically. On my return to school, I was treated much differently, while John's status was elevated to that of Alpha Male. I kept clear of him after my comprehensive beat-down, and while he never physically harmed me, John harassed me continuously, forcing me to change tables at lunchtime, or to move seats in the library, as soon he entered the room.

Lela and I were still dating, although she spent a lot of time with John too, even though she insisted that they were just friends. Lela and I had more opportunities to be alone as our parents gave us increased freedoms, now that we were both eighteen. Of course, being young teenagers, we used our alone-time to make-out, experimenting different ways to make each other feel good. Our minimal sexual interaction was always a fumbling affair, an almost pre-determined struggle between me, driven by my constant hard-on, pushing for more play, and Lela, driven by her desire to remain virtuous, resisting my increasingly aggressive advances.

One night, after an extended make-out session while my parents were both at work, we were both naked except for our underwear. Having been in this situation multiple times in the past, I knew the drill. Lela would resist my advances, and as I leaked a copious amount of pre-cum into my briefs, she would finally relent, and give me a handjob. Always a rushed affair, she would use baby oil as lubricant, clench her fist around the shaft of my cock, and allow me to fuck it, as if it were a pussy. I never lasted long, usually blowing my load across my bedsheets within a couple of minutes, as she lay there completely unfulfilled. In my defense, Lela never asked for any reciprocation, not that I would have had any clue how to provide it anyway. This went on for a few months, the cumulative frustration piling up as she rebuffed my requests for sex.

Occasionally Lela would allow me to dry-hump her, which was undoubtedly much more pleasurable for me, than for her. Clad only in our underwear, I would lay on top of her in the missionary position, and grind my pelvis furiously into hers, until I exploded in my briefs. The whole event typically lasted less than five minutes, after which I would roll over in abject embarrassment, unable to look her in the eye. Of course, being a man, I wanted more from Lela, and as I became more sexually frustrated, I got more aggressive. I always regretted it when I lost control of myself, and Lela began to avoid coming over when my parents weren't home. She also began to spend much more time with John.

John was very popular in High School, and having grown to well over six feet tall had no shortage of female admirers. Now eighteen years old, he began to experiment sexually, and just before we graduated he had slept with the majority of the High School Cheerleader squad, which consisted of the prettiest girls in the whole school. John and Lela still hung out, but they were just good friends, although I could tell that my girlfriend liked him, which pissed me off.

As the Winter Formal Dance approached, there was a palpable excitement around the High School. Letterman jackets were one way of demonstrating that you were in a couple, but as the most popular jocks seemed to have their Varsity Football jackets draped over the shoulders of a different cheerleader's shoulders each week, it wasn't recognized as any kind of long-term commitment. Attending the Winter Formal or the Prom as a couple, however, identified you as being paired up, and I was so excited for the student body to recognize Lela and I as being in a committed, long-term relationship.

We took a few pictures together about a week before the event, Lela looking angelic in her beautiful gown, even as it was quite demure. We had gone dress shopping together, and while I had encouraged her to show a little leg, or maybe put her pert breasts on show, she had chosen a very modest gown. Hanging loosely around her perfect body, it neither flattered or showcased her lithe, taut frame. Obscuring her breasts from view, with the hem falling just beneath the knees, it was the perfect way to signal her virtue, particularly when combined with her chastity ring. The final touch was the addition of tights, full-length pantyhose almost ensuring that her purity was intact after the dance.

It was well known that many High School Seniors lost their virginity at the two, school-sanctioned events. Despite the presence of chaperones, and the strict requirement that anyone under the age of eighteen leave the dance with a parent or guardian, the students who were considered adults in the eyes of the law, were free to come and go as they pleased. Predictably, this freedom led to the illicit consumption of alcohol and drugs in the numerous off-site parties. Held in hotel rooms in close proximity to the dance, these virtual love-nests were also the scene of many a young woman's first sexual encounter, and countless virginities were lost on the night of the Winter Formal.

Lela and I were both eighteen, and I had a credit card in my name. While the limit on my card was low, it was sufficient to rent a hotel room, and about a week before the dance, I called the Marriott and did just that. Requesting some fresh flowers to be installed in the room on the day of the event, and asking for a box of Godiva chocolates, Lela's favorites, to be left on the pillow, I was hoping that my thoughtful gesture might reap some rewards in the amorous department.

One night, a few days before the Winter Formal, Lela came over to my house so that we could study together. My mom was home so my girlfriend was comfortable hanging out in my room, as long as I left the door open. We were engrossed in our work when my mom came up the stairs and told me that she was running to Costco for a few things. The interaction between Lela and I had been non-sexual as we studied, but as soon as my mom left the house, I began to put the moves on my girlfriend. Lela resisted me as I wrestled her onto the bed, and even though our play-fighting began very innocently, once I was erect, all I could think about was busting a nut. Hoping to enjoy a dry-humping session, or maybe even a hand-job, I began to pester Lela for some release. For her part, she was adamant that this wasn't happening, and as my frustration grew, I lost my control.

Forcing her down on the bed, I managed to get the outer-layer of her clothes off, although I tore her shirt in the process. Once she was clad in just her bra and panties, I mounted her in the missionary position, and began to thrust into her, in the hope of a dry-hump release. By this time she was trying to fight me off, and I sustained some scratches in the process. I never considered the prospect that I had taken something from Lela without consent that day, my teenage frame of reference obscured by my overwhelming desire. However, as Lela resisted my advances, and continued to ask me to stop, I dry-humped her furiously, extracting my cock from my briefs shortly before I blew my load. Changing from dry-humping to masturbation, I ejaculated across her stomach, covering her bra with semen in the process. It was a tremendous orgasm on my part, mainly because it was the furthest I had ever gone with a woman. After I came, I rolled over onto my side, and as I decided how to voice my apology, Lela jumped off my bed, grabbed her clothes and ran downstairs in just her underwear. A few moments later I heard her car disappear down my parents' driveway, and the reality of what I had just done hit me.

Predictably, Lela ignored my texts, which began as a simple apology. However, as my remorse intensified, the texts turned into a justification of what had transpired, including a blow by blow account of the encounter.

The following morning, I was overcome with remorse, and as I read my texts from the previous night, I developed a pit in my stomach, as I realized that I had completely incriminated myself. To compound matters, my mom told me that my Letterman jacket had been left on our doorstep. It was a little disconcerting that she had returned it, but I figured when I saw her in person, I would patch things up with her. We often drove to school together, but she wouldn't respond to my texts on this particular day, so I drove alone. When I arrived at school, I headed straight for the lockers, both to store my excess books for the day, and as it served as the main area for socializing before class began. To my surprise, Lela was sat with John and a few of his football jock friends, and she was wearing his Letterman jacket. In the hyper-codified world of High School this could only mean one thing, and Lela was announcing her change of loyalties to the entire student body.